#maeve's completed requests

[tlou-reid]

you found me ✰ spencer reid

warnings ✰ gunshot, violence, mentions of maeve, hospitals, mentions of death, mentions of religion and god, angst let me know if i missed any please

summary ✰ spencer is the one to reach you after being shot by an unsub

notes ✰ inspired by you found me by the fray. please send requests here. & this is not edited

spencer wasn't sure what dropped first: him or his gun. he could still hear hotch yelling after him, instructing him to not to go in. first not to go in the black suburban you always made jokes about. then, not to go in the yard of your home spencer had been begging you to move out of. then, not to go in the door of the house that he'd held open for you so many times. now, he could hear hotch's voice telling him not to go in the room, but he sounded like he was underwater. when spencer opened the door he could see morgan holding the unsub to the ground while he got him in cuffs, but, as soon as his knees hit the floor next to your body, everything in his peripherals went blurry.

he knew he should be doing the medical things he learned years ago, back during his training, but he couldn't. he was frozen, unable to do anything but stare at the gunshot wound beneath your left rib. his eyes started to well up with tears as his hands reached out, applying pressure, as if he could stop the bleeding himself.

as soon as his shaky hands landed on your body, all he could think of was maeve. how could he do this again? another person he loved, bleeding to death, all because of him. he felt so selfish. for everything. for moving on from maeve. for falling in love with you. for putting you in this position. for thinking of another woman while you bled out under his hands.

"reid, move," hotch's voice cut through his thoughts. spencer wasn't sure how long he'd been kneeling over you, but it was long enough for medical first responders to get there, get inside, and be ready to take over the job he was failing to do. still, he couldn't bring himself to move from his position. hotch had to pull spencer away, letting the medical team move in and get to work.

despite the tears welling up in his eyes, spencer hadn't starting crying. until now. he was sitting in the floor, with hotch behind him with an arm still wrapped around him when the first sob wracked his body. his whole body jerked as he wailed. hotch didn't know what to do, so he just wrapped his arms around spencer, holding the crying boy to his chest as if spencer was his own son. spencer's bloodied hands reached up to hold hotch's forearms, looking for something to ground himself.

the rest of the day was blurry. time seemed to be moving with super speed, but also not moving at all. spencer felt like a bystander in his own life as he watched them load you into the ambulance. he couldn't move his legs when they asked who was riding with you, so it was prentiss who climbed in, giving him a sad look as they closed the doors.

he rode in that stupid suburban, and neither him nor hotch uttered a word. the ride was completely silent. it wasn't the comforting silence like when you and spencer would sit on the couch, each holding your own book and just enjoying being around each other. this silence was scary. he could feel his heart beat in his temples, his stomach was churning and he couldn't stop tapping his foot. hotch didn't complain about his fidgeting the whole ride to the hospital.

they met prentiss in the waiting room, where she explained that you were in surgery now. there was no update on your state, and the rest of the team was waiting on a phone call from one of you guys to explain what was going on. morgan had called to inform prentiss that the unsub was in custody, and his other victim had passed. spencer didn't say anything in reply. instead, he moved to sit in the chair farthest away from where hotch and prentiss were standing, not wanting to listen to the details of the case.

this case was not one that should have even been on the BAU's radar. the local police knew who the unsub was, they caught him on camera after his first attack. there was no need for a profile, and definitely no need for the BAU to be spending their time on something as simple as a manhunt. until you called. you thought someone had been following you on your walk around the neighborhood, and it was proven that you were right. there was no solid reason why you were the next victim. there was relatively no similarity between you and the other victim, you just happened to be in the wrong place. when his larger frame pressed himself into the door, there was no stopping him. he shot at you, knocking you down, and eventually unconscious, while he looked for anything valuable in the house. spencer didn't know what he was trying to take, and he didn't really care either. all he cared about was you getting better.

one hour turned into two, and then two turned into three. he had somehow convinced prentiss and hotch to leave. he just wanted to be alone, and after a long phone call with garcia, he was. he had started to pace and his thoughts started to wander. he wanted someone, something to blame. sure, this unsub was the one who shot you, but what about the police? the ones who didn't try hard enough to find this guy before he was in your house? what about your neighbors? who weren't keeping an eye on you while you walked, even though you did numerous favors for them? what about him? a law enforcement officer that you were in love with but who wasn't there to protect you?

and lastly, what about God? being a man of science usually kept him from turning to a higher being. but a desperate man will take any chance he can get, and the best word to describe spencer right now was desperate. desperate for you to be okay. desperate for you to make it out of surgery. desperate to be next to you. desperate for someone to blame. so how could God do this? how could he allow something to happen to you? how could he punish spencer after all the good he had been trying to be doing for this world?

his thoughts went wild for what felt like years, but was only a few more hours, before the doctor was coming to get him. "dr. reid?" her voice came into the empty waiting room. his head snapped right to her. "she is out of surgery, she'll be waking up soon. you might want to be in the room when she does."

spencer stomach dropped the way he did earlier. he picked up the sweater vest and tie he had discarded on a waiting room chair and hurried to follow the doctor. when he reached the room, he was shocked at how peaceful you looked. despite all of the noises from the machines, the hospital room was the calmest place he had been in in the last 24 hours. spencer made himself comfortable while he waited for your eyes to flutter open.

and when they did, his eyes were on yours. he couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. it took a few minutes for you to adjust to the room. the noises, the bright lights, the lack of understanding where you were. the last thing you remembered was hitting the ground after having a gun pointed at you. after a few minutes, you turned to face him, "you found me." you smiled, despite the dryness in your throat as you spoke.

"just a little late." spencer shrugged, trying to downplay the guilt that was burrowed in his stomach. he reached forward, rubbing a few fingers along your cheek. "what happened?" you asked, wanting the whole story. spencer explained, leaving out a few parts. you didn't need to know how he couldn't bring himself to help you, or how he cried in hotch's arms, or how many times he had to wash his hands in the hospital's bathroom sink to get your blood off of him.

"that's kinda crazy," you couldn't help but laugh. spencer was mildly uncomfortable at your reaction. "so, when do i get to go home?"

"you don't," spencer begun, "you're moving out, like i have been asking you to." he could see the confusion written across your face. "you're moving in with me, that way i know you'll be safe." he smiled at you, excited at the idea. he had been wanting this for a while. "now get some rest," he said with a gentle tone, "i'll find us something to eat." despite the fact that he hadn't eaten in almost a day, he waited for you to be asleep to leave the room.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x reader #spencer imagine #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

[moonstruckme]

i recently found your page and i became instantly obsessed, you're such a good writer!! i'm not sure if you're taking requests rn (if you're not, ignore this hahaha) but i saw a post somewhere saying that when spencer is in love he loses the sense of direction 😭 we saw moments like those with lila and maeve (like he starts walking but then it's the wrong direction <33) and i was thinking about that with bau!reader!! they're on a case and he gets distracted by her and starts walking on the opposite direction or says something wrong and the team is all like??? because he never gets things wrong and maybe morgan teases him or something like that

sorry for the veryyyy long message!! i just thought it could be so cute, and you would write it perfectly!! obviously if you want to write it in a different way it's okay, i would be happy if you wrote it (but again, if you're not feeling it it's completely okay!! 💗) thank you and have a good day :))

Thank you sweetness <3

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 539 words

There’s an eyelash on your cheek. You’re staring at the board, and your lips are all pursed, and you’re sitting forward on your elbows, and there’s an eyelash on your cheek. Spencer has no idea how you haven’t noticed it, sitting there with both ends curled upward, precipitous on the curve of your cheekbone.

You’re saying something to Hotch about the overly gruesome nature of the case, how it points to a connection with the victims. Your cheek moves as you talk. The eyelash looks like it should be a breath away from falling off, and yet it stays stubbornly in place. Spencer really, really wants to get it for you. It’d be such a tiny gesture, the quick brush of his finger underneath your eye, so brief no one would have the chance to question it. He wonders if you believe in wishing on eyelashes. He’s seen you throw salt over your shoulder more than once, but you claim it’s more a habit from childhood than actual superstition. Still, you’re more a romantic than you like to let on. But the origin of the salt tossing is more rooted in Christianity, Spencer thinks, whereas the practice of wishing on eyelashes is more recent and often suspected to be rooted in Paganism. It supposedly emerged only in the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries, when someone in the British isles spread word that blowing an eyelash off your finger was the equivalent of blowing away the Devil, and eventually the belief morphed into good luck and wishes. Spencer wonders what you’d wish for. 

“And it’s pretty clear what this is hailing to.” Prentiss’ voice is weary. 

“Paganism,” Spencer says quietly, absentmindedly.

“What?” 

Spencer blinks, returning to the room to find the entire table has turned to look at him. “Sorry, I—I was thinking about something else.” He glances at the board. “Jack the Ripper. The degree of mutilation is the same.” 

“Right,” Hotch says, instantly back on task. “And if we’re right, he’s going to act again soon. Wheels up in twenty.” 

Spencer picks up his bag, but doesn’t leave the room. “Hey,” he says as you stand, stepping closer to you. “You’ve got an eyelash.” 

You blink, almost knocking it askew, but hold still as Spencer brings a hand to your face, brushing it onto his finger. 

Your cheek pushes upwards as you give him a lopsided smile. “Thanks,” you say.

“Wanna make a wish?” 

You make a soft, amused sound. “I don’t believe in that, and I know you don’t either.” But when Spencer holds up his fingertip, you lean forwards anyway. Your mouth purses prettily, a tiny little o, and you blow softly. It’s a small puff of air, but the eyelash whirls off into the air. The both of you track it until it reaches the ground. You quirk an eyebrow at Spencer as if to say satisfied? and go, passing your hand along his arm fondly as you exit. Spencer follows after you like you’ve got him on a leash, and it’s only once he’s in Garcia’s office that you say “Do you need something, Spence? I just came to bring Penelope something,” and he realizes he’s completely forgotten where he was supposed to be going.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #bau!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

[fortheloveofwonderland]

My Reply | S.R

This one was a request from the lovely @reidsaurora-replies for my milestone celebration which got wildly out of hand. I think I damn near used every lyric of the song in this one. Also, Maeve does not exist in this universe. I felt like his phone calls with her were too similar to the letters with reader and not needed

Summary - Spencer writes his deepest tragedies down on paper for his pen pal. After ten years of exchanging letters and some divine intervention from JJ, the two of you finally come face to face.

CW - this one covers most of Spencer’s canon storylines including Tobis Hankel and his drug addiction, his moms illness, his fathers abandonment, getting shot in the knee, his headaches, Emily’s “death”, prison arc, Mr Scratch and Emily’s kidnapping, angst, interfering friends, lots of literary quotes.

WC - 6.3k

Making friends was always something Spencer Reid had been inherently bad at. He was always too young or too smart which always seemed to put people off of forming friendships with him. 

When he joined the BAU, his team called themselves his friends. But Spencer knew if he’d met any of them outside of work he would have nothing in common with them. 

They were simply friends by proximity, which admittedly was better than having no friends at all. But he couldn’t talk to them about everything, afraid to scare them away with talk of his mothers illness or his fathers abandonment. 

And sometimes he just needed to talk to someone. 

It was Garcia’s idea that he sign up for a pen pal. When she found out about his mom during the course of the fisher king case, he’d confessed that he didn’t feel comfortable talking to the team about such things. 

At first she’d actually suggested talking to someone online, she had many online friends who she talked to in various chat rooms. But after almost an hour of trying to explain that to the technophobe doctor and getting little more than a deep frown in response, she changed tact. 

A pen pal appealed to Spencer greatly. He already wrote daily letters to his mom and found it somewhat cathartic, getting his thoughts down on the page, but he never bothered her with the darker stuff. 

The idea of a faceless person he’d never meet reading his deepest, darkest thoughts was actually intriguing to him. And so with the help of Penelope he found himself a pen pal. 

In his first letter he’d just introduced the basics, his name and age, what he did for a living and that he lived in DC. 

He went on to explain how hard he found it to make friends and the difficulties of talking to his already established friends about the darker parts of his life. He ended the letter with a quote from To Kill a Mockingbird.

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view…until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.” - Harper Lee.

He received a reply little over a week later. 

Your name was Y/N and you were twenty two, three years younger than him and a grad student at Columbia University. You told him you would be happy to read whatever he sent you, that you were more than willing for him to write to you about the things he didn’t tell his friends. 

You signed off with a quote of your own quote from the book Infinite Jest.

“You will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realise how seldom they do.” - David Foster Wallace. 

And so he did just as you said and he wrote another letter. 

His second letter to you was five pages long. He went into great detail about his mothers illness, how he’d been left to deal with it alone at ten years old. He wrote about how he’d made the decision at eighteen years old to have her committed to a sanitarium. 

He told you about growing up as a child prodigy in Las Vegas and how hard that was. You were the first person he ever told about Alexa Lisbon and being tied naked to a flagpole. 

He spoke about the events surrounding Elle leaving the team and how it didn’t feel complete without her. 

He ended the letter by apologising profusely that he’d wasted your time with his long winded rambles and said he hoped to hear from you soon and scrawled a quote from The Great Gatsby.

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald.

He said he would understand if you didn’t reply. But you did. 

The letter took two weeks to arrive and you explained that it was because you wanted to really process his words and give each and every one of them the time they deserved. He read the last few lines of your letter over and over again in a loop even though they were etched into his memory after only one glance.

I wish there was something I could say, to erase each and every page you've been through,

even though it's not my place to save you. 

“When I get lonely these days, I think: so be lonely. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.” - Elizabeth Gilbert - Eat, Pray, Love. 

He wasn’t familiar with the book and so he’d gone out and brought it and read it cover to cover within an hour. 

Reading your letter made Spencer feel understood for the first time in his young life. You didn’t pass judgement on him. Spencer found that between the pages of your letters he found a kindred spirit. 

The letters continued back and forth for several months until one day you didn’t receive a reply. His last letter had been penned to you on route to a case in Atlanta, which you’d responded to the day you received it. But there was radio silence from Spencer. 

You shouldn’t have been as worried as you were, but you couldn’t help yourself. His letters had become such a huge part of your world, often rereading them hundreds of times just to make sure you didn’t miss any little nuance on the page. 

His handwriting was ingrained within you, his scrawly, sometimes barely legible penmanship danced behind your eyelids every time you closed your eyes. His letters had rapidly become the best part of any day. And for over a year you didn’t receive a reply. 

After a while you’d stopped holding out hope every time you collected your mail. Eventually you gave up ever expecting to hear from him again. Maybe he didn’t need you anymore. Perhaps he’d made a real life friend, maybe even a girlfriend and you’d been rendered ineffective. 

But then little over a year after you sent your last letter, you found an envelope in your mail slot with the familiar handwriting you adored so much and the DC postmark. 

Y/N,

I don’t really have any excuses, all I can say is I’m sorry. I have written you fifty three letters over the course of the last year but never mailed a single one. They are piled up on my desk, addressed and even stamped, but I couldn’t bring myself to mail them. 

I’ve been struggling, I can’t lie to you. I can’t even lie to you through a letter and tell you I’ve been fine because I haven’t. I think you would see through my prose, know that I wasn’t being truthful. And you’ve never given me a reason to be anything but honest with you.

The case in Atlanta was one of the hardest I’ve ever worked. I’m not going to beat around the bush, I’m just going to tell what happened and hopefully this letter will end up with you and not in the pile on my desk. 

I was kidnapped by the man we were hunting down. I spent two days tied to a chair being beaten within an inch of my life but a man with multiple personalities. In fact, that’s not strictly true. I wasn’t beaten within an inch of my life; one of the personas killed me. 

I’m not entirely sure how long I was technically dead before he revived me but obviously not long enough to cause permanent neurological damage. Irreversible brain damage occurs after four minutes without oxygen so it stands to reason it was less than four minutes. 

But during that time, my life flashed before my eyes, including every single word of every single one of your letters. 

One of the alter’s drugged me in his own way of trying to save me. Drugging me was supposed to help with the pain, both mental and physical. I fought it at first, desperate for him not to stick that needle in my vein. But after that first hit, I stopped resisting. 

I think you can probably already see where this is going. You’re incredibly smart and you seem to know me so well. After I shot Tobias Hankel dead I took three vials of dilaudid from his corpse. 

I should have prefaced this by saying I am now ten months sober, and offered up the good news first. But there were several months that I continued using the drug in secret, hoping it would aid in erasing the memories of it all. 

It took a case in New Orleans in which I met up with an old friend Ethan and ended up almost destroying my career for me to decide to get sober. I’ve had a lot of difficulties in my life, as you know, but getting clean is the hardest thing I have ever done. 

And now for the first time in months I’m craving again. Maybe that’s why I’m writing to you, determined to send this letter this time. I need to know that everything is going to be ok and you are the only one that I will believe it from. 

My team tries. Now it's all out in the open, they try to help. But you don’t even need to try. Your help is so effortless, so easy and I’m in real need of that right now. 

His letter went on in this vein for another six pages. He also included several pages of handwritten poetry which he had copied out of a book to send you. With each word you consumed you felt your heart breaking for him a piece at a time. 

And he signed off with a surprising choice of quote from The Lorax.

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” - Dr Seuss. 

You spent the next month or so trying to cultivate the perfect reply, but for the first time in your life, words failed you. 

It was three days after Spencer received his one year sober chip that your letter arrived. 

I got your letter and the poetry you sent me, postmarked in December of last year. I really hope you’re doing better, all your friends close by your side, one step closer to recovery.

I hope by the time you receive this you are close to one year sober, but if you didn’t make it you need to know that’s ok too. Life is full of ups and downs Spencer. If you didn’t make it this time you will the next time. Or the one after that. 

If you relapsed I need you to not beat yourself up over it. You will be ok, Spencer Reid, for that I am certain. 

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.” Maya Angelou - I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. 

***

When he got shot in the knee, he wrote to you from the hospital. He told you how hard it was for him to turn down pain medication when he was in so much agony. But he was over two years sober now and he wouldn’t do anything to risk a relapse. 

Your reply spoke of how proud of him you were and how you knew it couldn’t have been easy for him but you hoped the fact you were proud went some way to aid him. 

He told you it meant more to him than you would ever know. 

Then he started having headaches and the letters became sporadic. When he did write he told you how painful it was for him to try to focus on the words in front of him. 

I’ve seen so many doctors and no one can tell me what’s wrong with me. It’s like they think I’m making it up, like this pain isn’t real. 

On my good days it’s a dull throb but on the bad days it’s nearly paralysing. I’m so scared that this is a precursor for schizophrenia. I'm still young enough for my first break, and it is a genetic illness. 

I love my mom but I can’t turn out like her, Y/N, I just can’t. I'm so, so scared. 

But your letters are the greatest comfort to me. I don’t think there are words to describe how much they mean - I will try to surmise it with a quote from Charlotte's Web -

"'Why did you do all this for me?' he asked. 'I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.' 'You have been my friend,' replied Charlotte. 'That in itself is a tremendous thing.'" - E.B White.

You could feel his fear through the pages. His handwriting was somehow even harder to read than usual and sentences often tapered off with no ending. There were whole passages scribbled out so violently his pen had ripped the paper in places. There were crude drawings of brains and dark rain clouds in the margins. 

Spencer, 

I am so sorry you are going through this and that no one can give you the answers you seek. But this isn’t the end for you, even if it is schizophrenia, you can still live a full and normal life. 

If you'll just hold on for one more second, if you just hold on to what you have, you will wake up tomorrow. Behind every rain cloud lies the sun. As Victor Hugo said in Les Miserables -

“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.” 

In his next few letters he seemed to be getting better, his headaches slowly dissipating until they only hassled him every once in a while. Things seemed to be looking up for him. 

But then one of his best friends died. 

His detailed letter told you all about Ian Doyle and Emily’s history with him and went on to conclude how she died on the operating table. 

I’ve been through a lot of trauma in my life, lost a lot of people close to me but never like this. I’ve never had to bury someone I love and honestly I don’t know how to move past this. 

My initial reaction has been dilaudid. It's the only thing I can think of to take the pain away. 

Tell me not to do it, Y/N, please. Please tell me that this grief will get better and that using drugs again is not the answer. Please help me stay clean. 

"When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time — the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers.” John Irving - A Prayer for Owen Meany

It took you longer than it should have done to formulate a reply. You felt pressured, like his sobriety hung in your hands. You hated that his friend had died but you didn’t think it was fair of him to put this on you. And you told him such.

Spencer,

I am sorry to hear about Emily, I know how close the two of you were. I’m no expert on grief, I can’t tell you how to deal with this.

You know full well that using dilaudid again is a bad idea, you really don’t need me to tell you that. Honestly, I’m a little frustrated at you for putting this on my shoulders. 

I am always here to help Spencer, in any way I can but sometimes I think you expect too much from me. We’ve been trading letters back and forth for the better part of five years and I don’t think you’ve ever really asked me about myself aside from those first initial letters.

And it’s fine, you needed this friendship more than I did. But over time this has started to feel so one sided and I don’t always look forward to your letters as much as I once did. 

I realise this is not the best time for me to be saying these things but I can’t hold back any longer. I’m glad I can be someone you can turn to but I have my own life, my own issues and I have no one to talk to about them. 

You put too much pressure on me Spencer and it’s a lot to take. I’ve tried to help shoulder your misery all these years but it’s starting to bring me down. All I can say is you need to wake up, you've gotta believe; you can't give up. Time keeps going on without us, long after we're dead and gone.

And you finished it with a simple quote from After You by Jojo Moyes.

“No journey out of grief was straightforward. There would be good days and bad days.” 

It was no surprise to you that you didn’t receive a reply. 

***

Y/N,

It’s been two years and I’m sorry for that. Two years, one month and eleven days. The truth is your last letter was hard for me to read as you can probably understand. 

The hardest part of reading it was the fact that I knew you were right. I’ve been selfish all these years. I’ve treated you like a sounding board for my problems and never once asked how you were. 

It's taken me time to write this because I wanted to get to a better place before I responded. I was angry at first, I felt like I was being abandoned again and my anger would not have been conducive. 

Then I was hurt, hurt that the one person I thought would always be there for me had turned their back on me. I displaced my grief over Emily’s death onto you and anything I would have written in that time would have only been the rage fuelled epitaph of a grieving man. 

And then once I dealt with those emotions, life simply got away from me. Emily was alive and well, her death was faked to get Doyle off of her back. Again I was angry about being lied to by my friends but eventually I was just happy she was alive. 

Then I turned thirty and had a crisis of faith I suppose. I guess with my intellect I always assumed I would be doing something more with my life and turning thirty kind of threw me through a loop. 

We had some changes to the team, new agents coming and going. All in all things have been somewhat hectic. 

But that’s not why I’m writing. 

I am writing because I really do want to know everything about you. I want you to be able to open up to me the way I always have to you. I want to be your shoulder, your repreve. I really hope I haven’t completely blown our friendship and I hope to be the kind of person who you can talk to. 

These arms remain stretched out to you and maybe someday you'll accept them. Maybe it's too late to save a young girl's heart that's long stopped beating. But I hope that it isn’t. 

“You have been in every way all that anyone could be…if anybody could have saved me it would have been you.” Jennifer Niven - All the Bright Places. 

You wanted to tell him it was too little too late, that after two years of silence you weren’t interested anymore. 

You wanted to simply not reply, ignore him entirely like he’d done to you. 

But you couldn’t. And so you replied. 

It was your longest letter to date, depicting in great detail how he’d made you feel over the years and all the hardships you’d faced without having someone to vent to. 

But getting to write it all down had been purifying, and by the time you were finished you weren’t mad anymore. 

I am willing to give this another shot, but things have to be different. If we’re to continue this friendship then it has to be a two way street. 

But I can’t pretend that I haven’t missed your letters because I have. I see pieces of you between the words, parts of yourself I’m not sure you realise you leave on the page. 

I’ve painted a picture of you in my mind's eye and even after two years with no letters, I’ve carried that picture with me wherever I go. 

I feel like I somehow know you better than I know myself and I hope going forward you can start to know me the same way. Charlotte Bronte once said -

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.” - Jane Eyre. 

***

Spencer didn’t know how it happened, he only knew that it had happened. Over the course of all the years writing to you it was almost a surprise it hadn’t happened sooner. Or maybe it had and he just didn’t realise until now. 

Spencer Reid had fallen in love with the woman who wrote her prose to him. 

It had been ten years of letters, every single one of which he kept in their envelopes in date order in the bottom drawer of his desk at home. 

Those letters were his lifelines on bad days, the one thing that kept him tethered. He didn’t even know what you looked like, even what you sounded like but he loved you. He loved you with every fibre of his being. 

And he couldn’t stop himself from telling you exactly what you meant to him. Even if it inevitably destroyed what the two of you had, he couldn’t stop the words from flying across the page. 

So that’s pretty much everything that’s happened these past few weeks. Mom’s doing ok but obviously it's a huge adjustment for her and I’m not entirely sure how long I can keep her living with me but for now it works.

How did the interview go? I have absolutely no doubts that you blew them all away with your presentation, you’re a hard person not to fall in love with.

Your presence in my life has brightened my every waking minute. You once told me that behind every rain cloud lies the sun; you are the sun behind my clouds. Your letters bring me back to life, your handwriting penned onto my soul. 

Is it foolish of me to be in love with someone I have never laid eyes on? William Makepeace Thackery said in Vanity Fair -

“It is better to have loved wisely, no doubt: but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all.” 

I suppose that’s as good of an answer as any. 

***

Five days after he penned his love confession, he was arrested in Mexico. Once all the drugs had left his system, only after he was extradited and arraigned and placed at Milburn was he able to dwell on the fact he never received your reply. 

And being trapped in a cell gave him way too much time to think about that. 

It was possible you had replied, maybe even just to tell him he was crazy to even think he could be in love with someone he had never met. But he was sure you wouldn’t have even bothered to respond, thinking him a lunatic you needed to cut ties with. 

After a month in prison on one of JJ’s visits she brought a letter with her which she had found in his apartment. She recognised the handwriting on the envelope from several she’d seen him reading over the years. 

She wasn’t allowed to give him the letter but she offered to read it to him. At first he’d declined because he had no idea what to expect from your reply but after several long minutes he’d decided to let JJ read it to him. 

Spencer,

I am pleased to hear your mom is doing well but I do think you know that this solution won’t work in the long run. You say you live in a one bedroom apartment? You and I both know that you can’t sustain having your mother live there permanently. But I know you and I know you will figure out what’s best for you both.

The interview was amazing and they offered me the job on the spot. If it wasn’t for all your help with the presentation there is no way I would have gotten it, so thank you so much for that. 

As for the other thing…

For some time now I have been wondering about feelings I didn’t understand. You’ve been such a large part of my life for so long and even though we’ve never met I feel like we have, if that makes sense? I feel like in my heart I know you. My heart knows your heart.

Falling for you was as inevitable as the sun rising each morning. Perhaps it is foolish but I believe Thackeray knew what he was talking about. And I also believe Emily Bronte was talking about me and you when she said, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” 

Spencer had interrupted JJ then, when she was smiling from ear to ear as she read your words out loud. 

“That’s enough.” He cut her off, burying his head in his hands.

“Wow, Spence, I had no idea you’d met someone.” 

“I haven’t met anyone. She is simply a woman at the other end of a series of letters.” 

“How long?” JJ placed the pages down in front of her.

Spencer looked up at her, a small blush on his cheeks. He didn't want to be talking about this, least of all on the other side of a plexiglass screen with his other inmates nearby but he responded all the same.

“Ten years.” He shrugged. 

“Ten years?” JJ sounded incredulous. “Ten years of letters and you’ve never met? Why?”

“I, uh, it never really came up.” It wasn’t a lie, you’d never once discussed meeting in all those years. 

“Is it like a distance thing? Does she live far away?” 

“No,” He sighed with a shake of his head. “She’s in New York.” 

“New York!” She huffed. “New York is a five hour train journey, Spence!” 

“Jennifer, now is really not the time for this.” He lowered his voice as JJ’s had garnered eyes in their direction. “There is really no point in discussing this as we have no idea when or even if I’m going to get out of here.” 

“Don’t say that.” She shook her head.

“It’s true.” He shrugged sadly. “I really can’t think about all this right now, ok? Just take the letter back to my apartment and pretend you didn’t see it. Please?” 

If it weren’t for the desperation in his eyes she might have argued it. But she didn’t want to waste what little time she got to spend with Spencer fighting.

“Ok.” She relented with a small roll of her eyes.

“Thank you, JJ.” He offered a tight lipped smile. “How are the boys?” 

JJ filled him in but she wasn’t really focused anymore. In her head, she was already penning a letter of her own…

Y/N,

My name is Jennifer Jareau, JJ, and I work with Spencer at the BAU. I’m not sure if he’s mentioned me to you or not. He hasn’t really told me too much about you if I’m honest. But I have learned that he has strong feelings for you and you for him. I’m wondering if I can make a suggestion…

***

When you received the strange letter from Spencer’s friend JJ in response to yours, you’d been initially extremely confused as to why he was letting his teammates read your secret correspondence. 

But when she’d gone on to tell you that Spencer had been arrested along with all the details surrounding his incarceration and how she’d read your letter to him during their visitation, you started to understand. 

But then a few days later, before you had a chance to reply to her, you received another letter from Spencer with a postmark from Milburn Correctional Facility.

Y/N,

Maybe Thackeray and Bronte were right or maybe they were wrong, I can’t say for sure. What I can say with certainty is that I can’t carry on like this a moment longer.

Something has happened to me, it won’t be hard for you to figure out what as soon as you see the postmark. I am not willing to get into it or explain how I ended up here. But I have no idea how long I am going to be inside and I don’t want the rest of our communication to be sent through a string of guards who will pick apart each tormented sentence. 

I ask you not to write me back. This has to be the end of the road my dear. This letter has to be our last. I don’t know how much longer I will continue to be able to live like this. Each day my hope dies a little more and I’m sure I won’t make it out of here alive. 

I am writing simply to say thank you. Thank you for all your years of listening, for all your patience and kind words and your hopeful prose. In my darkest hours you have shown me the light, dragged me out of the shadows of my own creation. 

I love you for all that you are and all that you have done but even you can’t save me this time. This really might be the end for me and I don’t want you to blame yourself. You are the only reason I made it this far in this treacherous game we call life. 

Take care of yourself, continue to live your absolute best life. And in time I pray that you forget me and are able to love someone far more tangible. 

All that is left to say can be summed up by a quote from The Miniaturist - 

“You are the sunlight through a window, which I stand in, warmed. My darling.” Jessie Burton.

You replied firstly to Spencer, his heartbreaking words more pressing than JJ’s letter. You kept it short and to the point, knowing that various other prison guards would read it before it even made it to his hands. 

I appreciate but can't accept this thank you note that's sealed with your last breath and I won't stand aside and listen to you give up. 

You are stronger than that Spencer Reid and if I know anything about your team from all the years of hearing you speak of them it’s that they are the best at what they do and they will prove your innocence. 

Just remember what Ernest Hemmingway said in A Farewell to Arms -

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are stronger at the broken places.” 

You will be stronger at those broken places, Spencer, I have no doubt about it. 

And besides, if you don’t make it out of there, how do you  propose to ever meet me? 

Whilst on a role, you grabbed a clean sheet of paper and started scrawling again. 

Jennifer,

Thank you for your letter. I have spent some time musing on your suggestion and I think you might be right. 

I think it's time for me to take a trip to DC…

***

Spencer never opened your last letter because he had no intention of replying to it. If he didn’t read it, he could pretend you had never sent it and he wouldn’t be tempted to write a response. 

Instead he stuffed it between the pages of his book and tried not to think about it. 

After two and half months his team proved his innocence and he was released but he was thrown into the deep end of trying to find his mother. 

And even once he found her unscathed, he was rapidly thrust right into Scratch’s web after he kidnapped Emily. 

Taking the elevator back up to the BAU alongside JJ after they’d escorted Emily to the hospital it already felt like a lifetime had passed since he left prison. And all he wanted to do was chronicle all of it to you. 

Maybe once the dust settled, once he’d wrapped his head around everything that happened he would open your letter and send you a reply. 

But for the first time in ten years, Spencer didn’t want to drag you into his mess. 

JJ was strangely quiet as the elevator made its ascent. He didn’t even want to be here, he’d planned on going straight home after leaving the hospital. He hadn’t slept in his own bed for two and a half months and he couldn’t wait to collapse into it. 

But JJ had insisted that instead of him getting the metro home, if he popped back to the BAU with her to collect some paperwork, she would drive him home. 

And honestly he was just too exhausted to decline. 

JJ’s eyes were hyper focused on the digital floor numbers as they got higher. A few seconds after it displayed number five, one floor below the BAU, she turned and looked at him. 

“Don’t hate me for this.” She blurted out. 

“Excuse me?” Spencer frowned, too tired to try to understand what she meant. 

“I couldn’t just let it go.” She shrugged, a guilty smile on her lips. 

“Let what go?” His frown deepened. 

Her eyes flicked back upwards as the number five rolled into the number six and the elevator started to judder as it prepared to stop. 

“Just remember I love you and that’s the only reason I interfered.” She shrugged as the elevator stopped entirely and soon the doors were peeling open. 

Spencer looked away from her and out of the open doors to where someone was standing just a few feet back. 

Spencer’s eyes landed on the stranger only it wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew exactly who this person was standing on the BAU floor. 

He remembered the way JJ had read him your letter and how you’d told him your heart knows his heart. 

Well his heart knew yours too. And he knew the heart beating a few feet away from him was yours. 

“Y/N?” He croaked, slowly stepping out of the elevator but not too close to you. 

“Spencer?” You smiled at him, the kind that reached all the way to your eyes. 

Neither of you noticed JJ slipping quietly away, wanting to give you some privacy. 

“What are you doing here?” His brows were furrowed and he was rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“You’re friend JJ wrote to me. She told me everything that happened to you. And she made me realise that ten years is too long to wait for a first meeting.” Your voice was like honey to Spencer’s ears. 

Your prose was beautiful, but hearing the words from your lips as you stood in front of him in all your ethereal glory was more than any letter could convey. 

“I…I am actually speechless.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. 

“You? Speechless?” You giggled and Spencer felt the sound all the way to his heart. 

“You’ll come to learn I am much more of a wordsmith on paper. In person I am incredibly awkward and often trip over my words. I ramble when I’m nervous or clam up entirely, no in between. I spout facts and statistics rather than have a meaningful conversation. I am much more comfortable writing my words down on paper than speaking them out loud.” He let the words spill out of his mouth, proving his point entirely. 

“I’ve waited ten years to hear your voice. Please never stop talking.” You smiled so brightly at him he felt like he was floating. 

You were here in front of him, not just hidden between pages of letters. You were real, tangible; within his reach. 

And suddenly the last thing Spencer wanted to do was talk. 

He took a few tentative steps towards you and cautiously raised a hand to your cheek. You sighed in content when he cupped your face and nuzzled against his palm. 

“I could talk to you about anything and everything all day long, my love.” He smiled, inching his face closer to yours. “But at this moment in time I have one slightly more pressing desire to do with my mouth rather than speak.” 

“Oh yeah?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. 

The warmth of your body and your smile encompassed him. As he looked into your eyes, finally looked into your eyes, every bad thing that had ever happened to him slipped away. 

“Love starts as a feeling, but to continue is a choice. And I find myself choosing you, more and more every day.” He quoted Justin Wetch’s Bending the Universe. 

“Spence?” 

“Yes Y/N?” 

“As sweet as that is, I thought there were more pressing desires to use your mouth for?” 

“If you insist.” He smiled and quickly closed the small space between you.

When his lips finally met yours it felt like all the pieces of the universe were falling into place. 

For ten long years you’d communicated in the pages of letters, constructing replies to what felt like one sided conversations that were confined to only live on paper. 

As the kiss deepened every single one of those words seemed to float in the air around you, spiralling like a tornado made of a decade worth of missives. 

He swore he could hear each and every word whispered to him in the voice he’d longed to hear all these years as he kissed you like you were the most important being on the face of the earth. 

And when he pulled back and mumbled I love you against your lips, it was the easiest reply you’d ever given. 

#milestone celebration #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

[boldlyvoid]

prompt: reader (or another character) taking care of spencer during a depressive episode

Home is where ever I'm with you

tw: depressive episode, Spencer going non-verbal/one-worded when he needs to speak, mentions of spencers anxiety/depression, his past trauma with maeve, case talk, food mention

wc: 1.8k

Morgan drives him home and walks him up the stairs to his apartment, “can I have your keys?” He asks, reid just nods and hands them to him. 

He unlocks Spencer’s apartment and turns on the lights, waking up Spencer’s girlfriend who’s sleeping on the couch. “Hey…” she rubs her eyes, thinking it’s just Spencer. He didn’t know she was over, she came over when he said he was on his way home, and she failed to wait up for him. 

“Hi?” Derek answers, “who are you?” 

“I’m—

“Y/N,” Spencer finally speaks, he’s been nonverbal since the case ended. It was a bad case. He got a little hurt. All he wanted was to see her and it’s like she knew that. 

“Oh,” Derek knows this is the person Spencer’s been talking to for a while now, he remembers all the times he caught Spencer staring at his phone with a smile. This was his new love. 

He drops his bag on the ground and rushes over to her, burying his face in her neck and holding her impossibly close. She wraps her arms around him, “I’m here, I’ve got you, baby.” 

“Thank you,” Derek shoots her a smile, backing up towards the door. “Have him text me later when he’s feeling better?” 

“Will do, thank you, Derek,” she shoots him a smile, knowing him from all Spencers stories. She gives him a little wave as he closes the apartment door, and then they’re alone. “Do you want to eat, have a shower or go to bed?” 

“Shower,” he whispers, pulling back he looks at her with such sad eyes. “I’m tired.” 

“So we’ll get in the bath,” she whispers, cupping his face in her hands. “I’ve got you.” 

She gets him into the bathroom, helps him strip down and she puts a towel over the closed toilet seat. He takes a seat while she runs the bath water, he has the coolest bathtub. His apartment is so old yet a lot of it is newly renovated, his tub is one of those old claw-foot tubs, it’s pretty big and they’ve fit in it together before. 

She reaches into the cupboard under his sink and gets the pail she uses to wash his hair when he’s sitting down in the tub. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, it won’t be the last either. The first time she had to take care of him, he felt so awful, he felt like a kid… but from what she’s heard about his childhood, even as a kid, he didn’t have someone to take care of him like this. 

She helps him into the tub, she sits on a little stool outside the tub for a moment and then he looks at her with pleading eyes, he wants her to get in too. So she carefully strips and gets into the water right behind him, letting him rest against her chest. She has a washcloth and she covers it in soap, she runs it along his chest and his shoulders, washing the case off him. She kisses his head and right behind his ear, “You can talk to me whenever you’re ready…” 

He hums, he knows. He’s just unable to get any words out yet. That’s completely okay. It must’ve been really bad. The last time that this happened, he had to kill someone. That’s the worst part about the job. He hates it. He firmly believes that no matter what someone did, they don’t deserve to die. People can be rehabilitated, they may not be able to change, but you can learn more from a killer when they’re alive than when they’re dead. More people get saved with their prison interviews. 

“Scoot forward,” she requests and he does. She gets the pail and fills it with water, “tilt your head back for me?” 

He listens again, letting her run the water over his hair so she could wash it for him. He reaches out for the shampoo and hands it back to her, she lathers it up in her hands and starts to run it through his hair. It lathers up… fine but his hair was greasy, she knows if she washes it out and does it again, it’ll actually work this time. So she rinses it out, reapplies the shampoo and watches it bubble up a lot more. He leans his head back even more, clearly enjoying the way she’s managing his scalp. She keeps going just so he can feel some semblance of peace today. He deserved it. 

When she does rinse it out again, he sighs, “Thank you.” 

“You know I’d do anything for you, Spence,” she whispers before pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Nothing happened,” he whispers back. “I’m just low… I think I need to go back on my meds.” 

“We can call and make an appointment with your psychiatrist in the morning,” she suggests. “Is it just depression or is there also anxiety?” 

“Both,” he says with a nod. “I listened to my meditations on the way home but it’s still bad.” 

“Do you want me to order you that good salmon rice bowl and get you some more magnesium supplements?” 

“Would you mind?” He worries. 

She leans over his shoulder and turns his face to the side. “Spence, I’m never going to mind.” 

“Thank you,” he says with tears in his eyes. 

She simply kisses him, “Do you want to get out?

He nods moving away from her so she can get out of the tub first. She’s quick to dry herself and then hold open a towel to wrap around him once he stands up. She picks up her clothes from the floor so he can step out and not get them wet. “I’m going to the bedroom, I’ll see you in there?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, taking a moment to brush his hair in the mirror. 

She sets out his favourite comfy clothes and gets into a pair of her pjs that stay in his room for times like these. She changes first and then heads back out to the living room to get her phone so she can order them some food. It’s not too late, so it’ll be no problem getting a delivery. When she makes her way back into the bedroom, Spencer has all the lights out except his little fairy lights, he’s changed into the outfit she picked out for him and getting into bed. She smiles at him, “Comfy?” 

He nods, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, love,” she says again, never tiring of all his appreciation. She hops into bed with him. “The food will be here in half an hour… did you want to watch something or read? Maybe listen to some music?” 

He sighs, thinking it over. “You can pick the show. I just want to sit with you.” 

“Okay,” she understands that. “I love you, you know?” 

He nods, smiling building, “I know… I love you.” 

She leans over and shares a kiss with him, she cups his cheek and runs her thumb over his prickly facial hair. When she pulls back, she keeps rubbing his cheek with her thumb, “You’re okay, you’re safe, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Those are 3 things she knows his anxiety and likes to tell him lies about. His brain convinces him she won’t stay if he’s ‘hard to take care of.’ His brain makes him think that he’s constantly fighting for his life… the adrenaline in his body is too strong, so a simple “you’re okay” or “you’re safe” can change his whole mindset. She’s sat in with him at therapy, she’s learned all the things that set him off and what makes him comfortable, and she’d do anything to make sure that he stays safe. That he stays alive and with her. Even if one day he decided he didn’t love her anymore, there’s nothing she wants more than for him to keep living. 

He snuggles into her side, she opens up his laptop and heads right to Netflix, resuming where they were in Grey’s Anatomy the last time she was over. Sure, this shows intense, but the plot is fun to follow, he can tell her what medical facts aren’t true and even try to guess the endings. He loves how she’s already seen it all yet she won’t ever tell him if he’s correct with his guesses… but he’s good at his job, he can tell when she’s trying to pretend he isn’t right. It’s fun for them. 

And then their food arrives, they both head out to the kitchen to put it on plates, get real silverware and put their drinks in a glass with ice. They put the laptop on the tiny kitchen table, sit side by side and eat in silence while their show is on. She watches him eat the whole plate, she sees the colour return in his cheeks and his eyes start to get heavy when the carb dump starts to rush through his veins. He’s tired. But she makes him stay up another hour so the food can digest before they head back into the bedroom. 

“Can you text Derek,” she suggests, handing him his phone. “Tell him you’re doing better and thank him for the ride home.” 

“Okay,” he takes the phone from her and does just that. “Derek says thank you for taking care of me.” 

“It’s my pleasure… maybe we can go out for lunch with him this weekend?” She suggests. 

He nods, “Yeah… if I’m feeling better.” 

“Of course,” she would never rush him. “I’d like to meet everyone at some point.” 

“I like that you don’t know them,” he admits. “Then you can’t get hurt.” 

There’s another anxious thought. 

“I’m not going to get hurt,” she assures him. She wraps her arms around him and looks up into his eyes, “I promise, I’m not going anywhere. I will kill someone with my bare hands to come home to you.” 

He manages to smile a bit, “Me too… maybe we could live together? For real?” 

She lights right up, “Yeah, yeah I would love that. I mean, maybe not here… this place is already crowded when I visit, but we could start looking for a new apartment together?” 

“I’d like that. I’d like to start something fresh and new with you. I think we deserve a happy little place just for us,” he explains, its the most he’s said tonight. He must be feeling better. “I love being with you. I wish you were here all the time.” 

“Me too, Spence, that’s why I ran over here tonight,” she shares. “I felt like you’d need some us time.” 

“You’re too good to me,” he wraps her up in his arms. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“Me either.”  

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid smut #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid self insert #Spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

[radiant-reid]

Three

A/n: I didn't include 13x01 even though it happens right after, just because i wanted this more focused on the characters than the plot so that's why it's not here.

request (simplified): spencer and reader had started dating before everything went down and when he is taken to prison she finds out she's pregnant. The only person that knows is Emily and she doesn't want to tell spencer because it would just cause him pain to be locked inside. By the time he gets out, she already has a bump but he assumes she moved on with someone else. Once it is over she asks him to talk, he tries to tell her he understands and that he is happy for her so that's when she's like "spence, it's yours".

Summary: Three wishes, three requests, three things to say, and three people

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst then fluff)

Content Warning: pregnancy, prison arc, maeve arc

Word Count: 3.1k

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From the moment Y/n found out that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico, her life had been Hell.

There was irrational anger initially, wondering why he hadn't told her about the times he left the country on his personal passport while they were spending nights together in her apartment. Then sadness that he didn't trust her enough despite their regular morning coffee dates.

And then fear.

And with fear: helplessness.

Because despite the love she had for him making her feel like her whole world was complete, it became increasingly apparent that there was nothing she could do to help him.

She can barely stand looking at him- for her own self-preservation- when he comes into the BAU after a lengthy legal battle with the Mexican police, and calling in potentially every favor they're owed.

It was the most stressed Y/n has been in her entire life, and she knows she has to do something to alleviate it. Unfortunately, halving the problem means sharing the problem, and she finds herself walking up the steps to Emily's office as soon as she's in instead of being by Spencer's side.

"Y/n, hi." Emily ushers her in, walking away from her desk and sitting on the couch. The look on Y/n's face tells Emily she needs a friend, not a boss. "I've been meaning to ask how you are."

Y/n picks up on the careful phrasing. Emily's not teasing them for the relationship she suspects exists. She's worried about her friend and not wanting to push her too far.

Y/n doesn't know how to say it. Emily has been his friend for almost a decade, through a faked death, reunion, and years spent apart.

So she blurts it out. "We're in a relationship, and I'm pregnant."

Emily can't control the surprise in her facial expression, eyebrows raising and jaw-dropping. She had really only considered Y/n would tell her they were dating, that she was scared for Spencer's well-being because he was more than a friend, not that she was scared of his well-being because he's a soon-to-be father.

Emily reaches out to touch her hand, squeezing it softly to comfort her. "Does he know?" She asks, even though she thinks she knows the answer.

Spencer would have mentioned it. There was nothing more he wanted than to be a father. They had discussed it after Henry was born, when he turned 30, during JJ's wedding, when she saw the team after Morgan left, and when she came back after Hotch left.

"No." Y/n answers, lightly crying. She wasn't sure if it was the pregnancy hormones or the fact her baby daddy was in prison.

"It will be okay," Emily assures her, wrapping Y/n in a hug. "I promise, we will get him out of there."

They both know she can't make that promise.

They both don't comment on it.

"I, uh- h-he said he needed to go to Houston for his mom." Y/n starts telling the story between tears and resultant hiccups. "And he called me that night, but I didn't pick up." That was something she'd been feeling guilty about, knowing that if she answered, they would have gotten one last conversation together. "So he left me a voicemail saying he'd be home the next day. I was busy putting a surprise box together for him. It's got the cutest onesie that says 'hi, daddy.'" Emily smiles with her, and it's only then that she realizes she's also crying. "I actually went a little overboard, so you all have carefully selected onesies waiting for you." She's smiling a little, trying to readjust her focus onto something happier. It's quickly spoilt. "And then we were back here."

"I'm so sorry," Emily says, hugging her again. "And I'm really happy for you, Y/n. You're going to be the best mom ever."

That makes Y/n chuckle slightly. "Don't let JJ hear you say that."

She shrugs with her own grin. "She'll get over it." She jokes. "Seriously, whatever you need, I am here for you. Anytime."

"You couldn't break my baby daddy out of jail, could you?" Y/n jokes so she doesn't break down again. Spencer told her she had a problem with that, but she's slipped back into old habits because that's what helps.

"We'll get him out," Emily assures her again. "And sweet baby L/n or Reid or L/n-Reid or Reid-L/n will have a very present dad."

"I hope he or she will have a very present godmother, too," Y/n says, confusing Emily. "Hopefully one who doesn't fake her death again..."

Emily understands that, and her surprise is happy that time. "It would be an honor. Also, I did attend an Ivy and Spencer didn't."

That makes her laugh through her tears again. "That was on my pros list." She jokes.

"You have to stay with me, though." Emily insists. She can't stomach the thought of her friend being alone, sad and pregnant. "Or I can stay with you."

Seeing her apartment has been difficult for Y/n. Every single inch of it reminds her of Spencer. "Yours." She requests. "And thank you. I appreciate it."

"Of course." Emily nods before her face changes to a more concerned expression. "What do you think about telling him?"

That question had been on her mind for a while. "How is he, Em? Honestly."

She picks at her fingernail and it's the response Y/n was desperately not hoping for. "He's not good." It's not a lie, but it is a drastic understatement.

"He can't know." She decides, and Emily breathes a silent sigh of relief at not having to talk her out of the decision to tell him. "But what about them?" She questions, nodding to the door.

"That doesn't have to be right now," Emily assures her. "Whenever you're ready."

Y/n tries to slow her rapidly beating heart and shallow breathing. Talking about it had not helped at all. "Okay." She says calmly. "Let's get to working getting him out of there."

~

They get to work every day, trying to get Spencer out while working their usual caseload. Y/n doesn't notice much of a difference in being pregnant besides all the stressing and then the stressing about stressing and what that's doing to the baby on top of it. And the increased fatigue. She wishes she had Spencer there every moment, and imagining his reaction is the only thing that helps her keep going.

When she starts showing, she has to tell everyone else, so Emily calls them into the briefing room.

"Is this about Spencer?" JJ asks, the concern on her face mirroring everyone else's when Emily and Y/n walk in.

"Sort of," Emily says, only confusing them more.

Y/n speaks softly as she breaks the news. "I'm pregnant, it's Spencer's, and he cannot know."

Their faces all change to unreadable expressions aside from Penelope who's trying to control her excitement. It's difficult to know if the right thing to do is to hug and congratulate her like they would have done in normal circumstances since Spencer's in jail, and it's clearly not an ideal situation.

"Congratulations," JJ says first, noticing Y/n's increasingly alarmed expression. She's also always known Spencer wanted to be a dad, and she gets up to hug her friend tightly.

Everyone follows after that, having a moment of delight in amongst the chaos of Spencer's arrest. They don't even bother to let money change hands on their bets if they were a couple. Rossi won, though, and he doesn't need the money.

Things get messier the longer Spencer is in prison. They all know he's struggling, and they all try and avoid telling Y/n, but she knows every time Emily steps out of the room to take a phone call that something has happened. And it's never something good.

After three long months of torture, Spencer's out. His final challenge is saving his mom and then getting the girl, but after all that he's been through, it doesn't seem insurmountable.

He hugs JJ, Luke, and Penelope at the prison, holding them for extra long to readjust to the feeling. He's too grateful to be out to be wishing Y/n was there. Every single freedom, he's going to be appreciative of.

Then there's the drive back to the BAU, a drive he's taken many, many times before. Penelope's as happy as she can be, all things considered, and chatty, telling him about all that he's missed. He knew how much he underestimated being able to call her up and hear something witty made his day better, so seeing her in person is incredible.

One key person she's leaving out is Y/n.

He's had a lot of time to think in prison. It's basically all he does, and when he's not thinking about how to survive or trying to remember the events of the motel room, he's thinking about her.

They weren't labeled when he went to Mexico. Somehow he had a way of falling in love without labels, but this time it wasn't going to end with her dead on a warehouse floor.

He's hoping his luck will come in threes when he wishes for his mom's safe return and for Y/n to be interested in him. She was before, she'd told him a million times, but he knows his whole world has changed, so all he can do is pray that they still sync.

"How is she?" Spencer asks when Penelope finishes complaining about how annoying Luke has been. He and JJ share a look in response to Luke's fond expression.

"She's..." Penelope's never been good at keeping secrets, but she would never cross the line with this. Not when it's not trivial gossip about the third-floor white-collar crime team. "You need to talk with her." She settles on an answer, approved by JJ and Luke's nods.

The pit of dread hits his stomach. It doesn't ever sound good when someone wants to talk. It's even worse when that person is your former or possibly still girlfriend.

It's when he sees her in the board room that he knows what Penelope means.

Y/n's pregnant.

Obviously pregnant.

And his heart plummets as fast as his stomach does.

Spencer's mouth goes dry in the search for something to say to her. There's nothing he can articulate as much as he wants to scream that he's in love with her. He cannot afford the time to ask her about it, and he cannot afford the heartbreak of learning she's already moved on, having someone else's baby.

He has been wishing he could go back in time for a while, but nothing like seeing her bump makes him furious he hasn't built a time machine. She's everything he ever wanted, and he longs to be everything she wants.

Then Cat is having his baby, and that is something he never expected to say, but the obsessive psychopath is taunting him with comments about his baby. He wants her to shut up, so he can close his eyes, touch her, and pretend it's his baby with Y/n. His paternal desire has never waved until he realizes he can't love the baby inside her, even if it is his when Y/n's also bringing a baby into the world.

Maybe she'll let him be an uncle, best case scenario a godfather. Still, that means he'll permanently have to be part of the guy who gets to live his dream life. He'll watch them raise the sweetest baby, babysit so they can go out on date nights, and maybe watch them get married. Every one of those thoughts jeprodizes the happiness he thought he could get back.

And he can't blame her for it. Who wants to wait for a convict? Maybe, he decides, she thought he was guilty, and even though he got released, there's no coming back from that.

He's forced to push it down and ignore all those dark feelings until this nightmare is over, which feels improbable. When his mom is recovered safely, he can finally breathe a sigh of relief at some of his problems being solved.

He stays with her until she falls asleep, guilt-ridden and assuring her she's safe. When she is asleep, there's a nagging urge in his brain to leave and go see Y/n. He just wants to congratulate her as a friend. Or that's what he tells himself. And it's most of the reason, but he wants to scout her boyfriend to make sure he's good enough for her.

"Hi." She says, opening the door and stepping to the side. "I was going to call you tomorrow. Well, technically today."

She's had the burning urge to touch him since she saw him but she resists, not knowing where they stand.

Spencer's not used to having his watch on his wrist, so he checks it. "Oh, it's late, I'm sorry. I can go." He offers, and it's more so he can avoid the discussion rather than her comfort.

Y/n shakes her head, sitting down on the couch. He notices how similar everything looks, like she's still the only one that lives there.

He looks awkward just standing there, next to the massive elephant they're ignoring, so she directs him next to her. "Sit, Spence, please."

Spencer wants to pace, it's become his way to relieve stress without anything to distract him, but he does what she says, wanting to please her as much as possible.

"How are you?" She asks, although it's a stupid question. Not only because he's clearly not well, but because he's going to tell her he's fine.

"I'm not mad at you," Spencer tells her, no longer able to suppress his thoughts. He's been running over what to say, but when he starts talking, any perfected speech is torn to shreds. She gives him a skeptical look, like she's questioning why he could be upset, and he feels even more like an idiot for assuming he's still allowed to feel things for her. "I came to say congratulations. I want you to be happy, and I'm so thrilled that you're having a baby. I understand why you couldn't be with me. It would have been selfish for me to ask you to wait. I'm glad you moved on, and being in your life, as a friend is all I can ask for." He stops before he runs out of breath which also helps him not say something stupid.

Y/n's still looking at him like he's an idiot, and she is kind of wondering if he is one, but her face changes when she understands the connections in his thoughts.

Two things stick in her head; Spencer doesn't think the baby is his, and he believes she could love someone else. Both are wildly untrue.

"Can you wait here?" She asks, her heart rate quickening a little now that she has to tell him what she thought was obvious.

Spencer nods apprehensively, anticipating her next move as bringing out her boyfriend to meet him. To his surprise, she comes out with a lilac box, shallower than a shoe box but with a bigger cross-sectional area.

She hands it to him with shaky hands, but the most significant indicator of her nervousness is how she's biting her bottom lip. It worries Spencer. Everything stresses him anyway, but over the past few months, when people are nervous, it means something alarming has happened.

So he tears his eyes away from her to open it cautiously. He could not have been more surprised by the content; a tiny onesie, miniature Converse, a giraffe toy, a positive pregnancy test, and an ultrasound picture.

"This is for you." She tells him.

He looks up at her, and she's crying, and he's crying, and it's a mess, but it is perfect.

"I'm going to be a dad?" He confirms, sobbing.

"You're going to be the best dad." She corrects, trying to wipe up her tears as his fingers trace over the words on the onesie delicately. "Spencer, I could never love anyone the way I love you, and I cannot imagine having a baby with anyone else."

"I thought you were with someone else." He admits bashfully.

She shakes her head, reaching out for his hand. She's missed touching him, feeling his soft skin in hers. "I'm in love with you." She reminds him, knowing he's going to need to hear it more than once.

"I'm in love with you, too," Spencer says, cupping her cheeks and gently kissing her. The kiss is slow and full of the longing they've had for months. He pulls back with the widest smile he's had for months. "Anything you need, Y/n, I'll do it. Are you eating? Vitamins? Water? Ultrasounds?"

Y/n giggles at how quickly he's moved to dad mode. "There's only three things I want." She tells him, earning a nod from a dedicated Spencer. "Firstly, no more impromptu trips to Mexico." She says it like a joke because they both know he'd never do that again. "And I want to live with you. I really don't want our baby to grow up in two different houses and I want you to see him or her every day."

"Yes." He agrees before divulging into rambling, excited words trying to keep up with how he's feeling. "My mom is going back to Las Vegas, so we can m we can live in my apartment or yours. Actually, we should just get a house. A proper house near good schools with a yard. I'll find some, but I really don't care where we live, as long as we're together."

"Slow down." She says, squeezing his hand. "We'll figure it all out." She assures him.

He nods, letting the best type of chaos continue in his head. "There's one more thing." He realizes.

"There is." She agrees, moving his hand until it touches her bump. "Feel our baby."

Spencer's crying again as he gets off the couch and kneels in front of her, pushing up her top and gently holding the developing bump. "Hi, sweet baby." He says softly. "I love you so much, your mom is a superhero, and I cannot wait to meet you." Those are the three most important things he can think to say.

It's impossible for Y/n not to cry when Spencer is so Spencer, and all the hormones inside her don't help. He gets up before leaning down to cup her cheeks and lead her into a kiss.

"You've made me the happiest I've ever been in my life." He tells her sincerely.

"Well, I kind of intend on doing that for a little while longer, if that's okay." She offers.

Spencer acts like he's considering it before landing on his answer. "Yeah, okay."

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[erissheiress]

I Swear It

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Warnings: 1 swear word, implications of postpartum depression (barely mentioned), Beron (barely), angst, arguing, happy ending

Summary: Eris has been on a mission for a while, and comes back to find his family struggling. (Also introduction of my child OC's)

Word Count: 1421

Taglist: @reetriestbr @pandabiiissh

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Your mother in law sat before you, cradling her youngest grandchild in her arms. The fire was dying slowly, but neither of you paid it much attention, instead letting it gradually fade by itself. Winter had arrived and made its presence known immediately, barely allowing time for the Autumn Court to transition into the colder months. Cold days like this were more suited for staying indoors by the fire with those you love, drinking mugs of hot chocolate or tea, and quietly basking in each other's presence.

You watched your baby coo softly in her grandmother’s arms, her little noises making your heart burst. In your own arms, your eldest two children nestled into your side, their fists clinging to your dress. The scene was almost perfect, besides lacking one detail. Your husband and your children’s father, Eris, had been away for weeks now, fulfilling his duties as Heir to the Autumn Court with his father.

Every night you'd go to bed alone, and wake up with two pairs of arms around you, little elbows prodding your stomach. Before, you would be awakened by gentle kisses on your skin, but now sleepy mumbling and soft cries pulled you from your slumber each morning.

You truly missed Eris, but had to get used to being without him for the time being. His absence was mostly felt through your children, when they'd seek your comfort, missing their father.

At least your youngest child, your darling girl, was unaffected, although the lack of a relationship between her and Eris worried you slightly, as he had to leave only a couple of months after her birth. She slept soundly across the room, and you pushed the worries to the back of your mind, lest they overwhelm you completely.

"Mama?" Your second child, Hugo, mumbled, rubbing his bleary eyes with his fist. 

"Yes, my love?"

"Is Daddy home yet?"

Across from you, your mother in law quietly sighed, knowing what your answer would be. She knew all too well what an absent father did to a young child.

"Not yet, baby, soon." You brushed a hand over his red curls, an inherited gift from his father.  Hugo just nodded, burrowing further into your side. In the distance, a grandfather clock chimed, and you took a deep breath.

"Time for bed, I think." 

Maeve and Hugo couldn't even argue, too worn out from their snow day, bellies full of hot chocolate, marshmallows, and gingerbread. Slowly you sat up, pulling Hugo into your arms, and holding Maeve's hand to guide her to her own bed. They kissed their grandmother and their baby sister, before allowing themselves to be put to bed by you.

"G'night, Mama."

"Night, Mama."

"Goodnight, my loves." Quietly slipping out, and back down the corridor. The Lady of the Autumn Court was standing now, smiling down at baby Alysa. 

"I think it's time for me to retire as well, love," She said, carefully handing you your daughter.

"Of course, sleep well." You kissed her cheek and watched her leave, leaving you alone with Alysa in the firelit room. "I think it's time we go, princess, don't you agree?" Her nose twitched in her sleep and your heart grew in size.

"I'll take that as a yes then. You've had a long, hard day." You continued to whisper to her as you walked down the corridor, nonsensical comments. Talking to your baby was supposed to improve their speech in the future, you had read, and you found yourself enjoying your one-sided chats with your daughter. Especially when she gazed up at you with those beautiful, familiar eyes. 

The fire was lighting in your room, a maid clearly having just been there, for which you were grateful. Slowly, you lowered her into her bassinet, stroking her soft cheeks.

The door opened softly. Quiet footsteps. You didn't turn around.

"How is she sleeping?" Eris' voice was quiet in the dimly lit room.

"Fine, she sleeps through the night, thankfully."

"I'll get her if she does wake up."

"She doesn't like strangers." A low blow, but necessary. Where was Eris when Alysa cried her tiny lungs out and Hugo and Maeve cried from the overwhelming noise? Where was he when you were so exhausted and overwhelmed that you sobbed into your pillow in the early days of his departure, or when the postpartum feelings lasted longer than they had after your first two births.

"I'm not a stranger…"

"You held her as a newborn, she won't remember you. She barely tolerates the maids that have been there since her birth."

"Darling…" a hand on your shoulder, turning you around.

"What, Eris? What do you want me to say? That I missed you? That I was drowning when you left? You cannot just return all of a sudden and expect things to be as they were. Maeve and Hugo miss you desperately, Alysa doesn't know you, and I… "

"And you?"

"I needed you." Your voice was barely audible as you confessed, avoiding his eyes. “This recovery…has not been like the others. Your father-”

“What about him? Has he done something?” Eris’ eyes flamed, his mind clearly racing with possibilities of his father’s actions.

“No, Eris, he has not. He visited after you left, to see the children. Hugo received most of his attention, of course. Called him your heir.”

“He knows that Maeve is my heir. She is the eldest.”

“It hardly matters. Hugo is a male, and that is all Beron sees. Otherwise, his visit was fine. Nice to have company, no matter how awful the person.” Another earned blow.

“I will see him.”

“So he can give you another reason to leave?”

“Y/N, please, I had no choice.”

“I know that! You had no choice, I’m fucking aware, what I’m frustrated about is that you expect things to be the same as they were. Did you think I would not be angry?” 

Alysa stirred, making soft noises in her sleep, reminding you to keep your voice down. 

“I will make it up to you. To our children.”

A wave of exhaustion washed over you. Exhaustion, frustration, and also acceptance. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”

Eris looked uncertain, standing in his own room. “May I-”

“I don’t care, Eris, sleep wherever you want. She’ll wake in a few hours to be fed, anyway.”

“My love, I can’t sleep if you are upset with me.”

“I’m just tired. So, so tired. Goodnight, Eris.”

No more was said, sleep hitting you almost immediately, the exhaustion of motherhood more powerful than your frustration. When Alysa awoke, Eris was not in the room.

. . . 

For the first time in a while, you woke up in an empty bed. Alysa cried softly, soothing easily once you picked her up from her crib and put her to your breast. You quietly walked down the corridor, to your children’s shared room, until they get older. 

Eris was in Maeve’s bed, his tall body barely fitting in her small bed. She was held tight in his arms, as Hugo lay on Eris’ strong chest. The three of them slept soundly. Alysa’s cry made Eris’ eyes flutter, making eye contact with you. 

“You look comfortable.”

“So comfortable,” he said, looking the exact opposite. “I went to Beron last night.”

“You did?”

“No more missions for a time, not until I make up for my actions. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you after Alysa, I’m sorry that she doesn’t know me. Please, my love, not sleeping with you was torture.” He got up slowly, careful not to wake up Maeve or Hugo. Walking to you, holding your face in his calloused palms.

“I needed you…” gradually the wall began to crumble, as tears began to stream down your face. You held your baby girl close, a protection of sorts.

Eris looked like he was on the verge of tears as well, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I have failed you, without a doubt. I will make it up to you, my love, if you’ll let me.”

He took Alysa from your arms, carefully holding her in one arm, using the other to pull you in close. “A second did not pass where I did not think of you. I’m so sorry.”

“Please, stay.”

“I will, my love, I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

“I love you.” Wiping the tears from your face, looking up at your mate, the father of your children.

“I love you too, darling. I am yours forever. I swear it.”

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #a court of thorns and roses x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar #my writing #mate!reader

[strawbeerossi]

I seen that you write angst and I have an idea to share with you because of some personal things that I went through with my own family.

Do you think you can write something about fem!reader and Spencer finding out that one of their children has leukemia? Maybe with death involved to show how intricate this situation can affect families? I know it’s a very loaded topic so I completely understand if you don’t wanna do it but I think you’d master the topic beautifully based off of your angst writing. ❤️

I hope you’re doing alright today, Tay

First off, I’m so sorry for your loss, lovebug. I hope I do this justice and thank you for trusting me with this topic. My DMs are open if you ever need to talk. 🩵

And I'm good today, thank you, honey.

Vilomah: Bereaved Parents

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After their son succumbs to his illness, the Reid parents have to navigate the grieving process together along with the team who are there to help.

Content Warning: Child death, leukemia, details about a hospital stay, extreme grief after loss, a child’s funeral, parental grief, mentions struggles with eating, spousal argument, lots of tears, descriptions of feeling empty and depression, the team is there for the Reids, spousal comfort, hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 3.3K

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I cried like a baby writing this. I hope I captured what you were looking for anon.

“Memories saturate my heart and the story of you spills from my eyes.” – Grace Andren

There were many horrors that Spencer faced in his line of work; murderers, rapists, cannibals, the lot of it. He was also faced with grief more often than not, losing Maeve and Gideon being the two most notable times where he was forced to face the fact that everybody dies at some point, no matter who they are. 

That wasn’t enough to prepare him for the cruelest thing life had to throw at him. Benjamin was diagnosed with leukemia when he was just two months shy of four-years-old, more specifically it was Chronic Myeloid Leukemia. 

The first few months were seemingly okay. He was responding well with the treatment, his little body growing stronger with each passing day. There were plenty of ice cream days to celebrate whenever Ben could function as good as he could before the cancer. Not to mention all the gifts his aunt Penelope would send.

There was hope, so much hope that Y/N and Spencer didn’t let the thoughts of losing their son loom over their head.

That was until he got sick again, this time much worse. It happened suddenly, Ben went from eating some fruit snacks and watching a movie to losing consciousness and growing pale. Spencer never thought he could get home faster than what he did when he got the phone call. Emily sent him home immediately after hearing the news, telling him to get home to his family and that she would check in.

The next few weeks were spent in the hospital, the bright lights being harsh on the eyes of the sore eyes of the Reid parents. Y/N didn’t sleep but for a few hours a night, any small movement or sound from Ben or his machines waking her up. Spencer had grown to not sleep for that long, surviving off maybe an hour a night and ten cups of coffee to push forward the following morning.

However, the suffocating realization of the inevitable was starting to soak in. Spencer wanted nothing more than for his son to make a recovery but as a man of science, that hope dissipated as he noticed the signs. People got better before death, so whenever Ben was showing all the signs of surging, it was enough to kill Spencer.

Even after they had a conversation with their doctor, the woman telling them that surging typically happens one to two days before death, it was like Y/N wouldn’t take that. She would say that he was fine, that he was healing. 

It was denial. 

The day they lost him was the hardest of them all. The air was suffocating that morning, there being a bitter winter chill. Spencer had gone to work, as usual. There was a case, one about a man who was killing women who resembled his birth mother after she rejected him from her life. He was distracted, like any father on the verge of losing his child would be.

He knew he shouldn’t have gone to work but he was losing his mind, being overwhelmed with the knowledge of the inevitable. He liked to think that if he and Y/N didn’t discuss it, it wasn’t real. As a man of science, he knew the risks of believing something like that.

Still, he gave himself false hope. 

However, his heart stopped beating for a split second as he could feel his phone buzzing, the world freezing around him as he couldn’t hear the others around him. He knew what this call was. It took JJ shaking Spencer’s shoulders to snap him out of his thoughts. “I have to go.” 

Making it to the hospital, he dreaded going inside. However, he was running through the hospital doors not bothering to check in at the front desk as he was going as fast as his legs could carry him to reach his son’s hospital room. 

Judging by the heart wrenching screams of agony from his wife on the other side of the door, Spencer knew what to expect as his shaking hand was opening the hospital door. The sight of his wife cradling their son was enough to make him drop to his knees. 

The nurses and doctors looked at the small family, feeling the sting of heartache as they’d gotten to know the Reid’s over the past year.

Spencer’s legs were like jelly, the tears cascading his face being enough where he was sure he could fill up the hospital room in tears, enough to drown in. They were able to stay as long as they wanted to, even if it was hours later. 

“Do you have his blanket?” Y/N asked, voice raw from the screaming and uncontrollable sobbing from before. “I don’t want him to get cold..” She whispered, looking at their son who looked like he was sleeping against his father’s chest. “In the bag.” The words were shaky, the father keeping his son close while letting his forehead rest against Benjamin’s smaller one.

After they were laying the little boy down again, Y/N was slowly putting the blanket over the child before she was leaning down to kiss his forehead, which had begun to grow cold from the hours his parents took to say goodbye. The parents clung to one another as they were being forced to walk out of the hospital. 

After that, their life lost all its color. Waking up to an alarm rather than to a happy little boy jumping on their bed just wasn’t the same. There was no laughter in the house, no warmth. The atmosphere was just as cold as the weather outside. No matter how many days that Penelope came over with baskets filled with small goodies to try and lift their spirits, or how Luke would come by to check in and bring food over that the two parents just couldn’t stomach.

The day of the funeral was when every ounce of denial was fizzing away. Next came anger. Y/N was moving a bit slow, honestly not wanting to rush and be greeted with the sad looks of their friends and family. Spencer was ready twenty minutes prior, wanting to rush the grieving process and just accept everything immediately, even if it was impossible.

“Please hurry up.” His voice was laced with irritation, making wife look up from her shoes as she was playing with the strap. “I am hurrying..” She spoke softly, a frown on her face as she slowly got the shoes on. “You don’t have to have an attitude, by the way.” 

That was the start of something ugly.

“Well, you don’t have to take thirty years and expect Benji to walk through the door.” The words were deep cutting, very uncharacteristic of the loving man she married.The words had his wife stunned in place, her mouth falling open. “You don’t have to be an asshole and keep reminding me of where we are going.” She spat, moving to brush her hair back before standing.

“You can’t keep acting like things are going to change. He’s gone, Y/N. No matter how bad we want him back, we will never get him back.” They were growing angry at one another at the wrong time. Before the yelling could start, there was a soft knock on the door. With a soft sigh, Spencer was turning around and heading to the sound of the soft knocking. 

The sight behind the door was enough to make his heart clench. There was Derek, the man offering a sad smile. “Hey, kid. I came to pick you two up. How’s the missus doing?” He asked, chuckling as Spencer was rushing to tightly hug his best friend, his hand slowly patting the younger male’s back. “Hi Derek.” Y/N offered a weak smile once she was closing the bedroom door. 

“Hey mama.” His voice was soft and careful, heading over to wrap his arms around the woman before kissing her cheek. “I was thinking that after everything, we could all go out to lunch.” He wasn’t stupid, he could tell that the two parents were neglecting themselves, he’d talked to the team. 

This was a sensitive time, so he understood. However, he wasn’t going to sit idly by either. He’d be damned if he let them both slowly waste away. Benjamin sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted that. 

“I don’t know, Derek. I don’t think I can deal with everyone looking at us with pity. You know how many people have told me that they hugged their babies tighter because of this situation? It hurts. Not nearly as helpful as people think..” The woman spoke while slowly rubbing her face.

“It’ll just be us. The team, our family.” He attempted to coax both parents, the two not being able to get out of it in the end.

The three eventually made it to the graveyard where they were confronting the one thing that they didn’t want to face. The Reids were approaching the plot that they’d purchased for the family, Y/N having to collect herself at the sight of the coffin waiting by the open plot. 

“There you two are,” Penelope looked like she’d been sobbing already, her arms wrapping tightly around both parents. That was where the floodgates broke, both of them tightly clutching onto the blonde enough to suffocate her. 

The ceremony was beautiful, despite the flood of tears and pain deep in the chests of all that were closest to the child who they were laying to rest. It was something honorable, Benji even having his uncle Aaron there to say a final goodbye. Even surrounded by love, there was still an emptiness, a void that would never be filled. 

What came next made things worse, the parents having to say goodbye as soon as the casket was being lowered in its plot, Y/N and Spencer wrapped up in one another’s embrace while their hands were clutching each other’s clothing. The wife was letting her head rest against her husband’s shoulder, their tears soaking one another’s clothes and hair.

It was just them now, with the ghost of their sweet angel who would keep a watchful eye over his parents, whether they knew it or not.

Dave was approaching the parents, his hand resting on Spencer’s shoulder as he cleared his throat to catch their attention. “I want you both to know that I will be here for you both, always.” David Rossi, the father of the team, it seemed. As well as being uncle Dave to all the kids, Benji included. 

“I heard that you two agreed to come to lunch.” He spoke softly, eliciting a small smile from Y/N. “We are.” She said softly, truly unable to say no to him. “We are having it in my backyard. Why don’t you two ride with me?” He suggested, making both Spencer and his wife look at one another.

They weren't getting out of this, so they complied and followed behind David.

The only problem was that so many amazing things happened in that backyard, Benji’s baby shower being one of them.

“Baby Reid is getting so big,” JJ gushed, her hand on Y/N’s swollen bump as the woman laughed in content. “Isn’t he? He’s also been kicking the hell out of my ribs, I feel like he's punishing me.” Y/N joked.

Finding out that she was pregnant was the best thing that ever happened. Of course, there were jokes of Spencer and Y/N not even waiting a year after they got married before she was already pregnant.

It was funny, really. Spencer was highly convinced that the baby was conceived on the first week of their honeymoon, the two being a little too into that talk while they were in the middle of sex, the filthy words of her being swollen with his baby becoming literal.

Diana was thrilled the moment that she saw her son and his wife on one of their visits, the woman being more thrilled at the prospect of her little Spencer having a child of his own. She would say that she knew before they even told her. 

“Mothers always know, Spencer. We are animals, we can feel things.” Were her exact words, something that she said Y/N would understand one day.

“Bella!” David smiled, the term of endearment being a newer one that he used for Y/N after the pregnancy, something about how she looked gorgeous because she was glowing. It was sweet, she had to admit it. “Hi, David.” Y/N grinned, her arms wrapping around the older man in a hug before she was pulling away. “You and Penelope did a beautiful job, by the way!”

Almost as if she were summoned, the bubbly blonde was hurrying over to flash a smile. “There you are my gorgeous girl! How are you feeling?” She asked, her hand cautiously rubbing her baby bump once Y/N gave her the okay.

“I’m doing good, actually. This boy is gonna be the death of me though. I was craving dirt the other day.” Her nose crinkled. “Weirdness. However, this baby is a Reid so that’ll explain it better than anything else.” Penelope joked. 

“It’s actually more normal than you might think. One theory links pica cravings to iron deficiencies. Another theory suggests these cravings develop as an adaptive response to the way the immune system changes during pregnancy.” Spencer smiled while letting his arms wrap around his wife from behind, his lips pressing a kiss to her cheek before his hands were coming underneath the heavy bump, lifting it up gently to take some of the pain from his wife’s back.

It was enough to make the woman sigh of relief as her head was tilted back against his shoulder. “You are such a lifesaver.” She breathed while briefly closing her eyes. 

Spencer was attentive and loving, paying attention to her much more after the pregnancy was discovered.

This was a dream.

This was a nightmare, the memories rushing back to Y/N as she was walking into the backyard where all those sweet memories lived. It was emotionally draining, so much so that her hand was reaching aimlessly for Spencer’s.

As soon as her husband realized what she was doing, he was slowly approaching his wife and letting his hand tightly grip onto hers. He didn’t realize how bad they needed this, to have a reminder that they still had each other. He figured it was implied but this made a bit of weight lift off his chest. 

“I know it may be a bit hard to laugh right now,” Penelope began as she was offering a smile. “But I know how much Benji used to love having dinner with all of us, no matter where we went.” She began, making a soft, sad smile spreading across Y/N’s face. 

“So, I figured that I would honor one of my favorite godson’s in the best way possible. Instead of boring adult food, I made extra sure to get the best of the best.” Being a four-year-old, Benjamin was just as picky as the next kid. 

“Don’t tell me,” Spencer began, looking over as she was happily showing off the meal she had catered. It consisted of all the essential food groups of a young child; chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, and french fries. 

Hank, Michael, Henry, the Simmons children and Jack were all over the idea of that. The adults, though, couldn’t help the soft laughter. “Benji would definitely approve.” Y/N offered a soft smile, shaking her head fondly. “Even up until the end, he had to have his nuggets.” Spencer added, a few tears springing up in his eyes at the pleasant memory, even in the darkest time of their lives.

“I don’t want that..” Benjamin wrinkled his nose as he was pushing away the soup that the hospital was giving him, making Spencer look up from his book. “It’s good for you, Benji. Try it.” He urged on, a smile as he put the book down after finding his bookmark. 

“Daddy, no. It’s yucky. It smells yucky.” He continued on, the four year old running the spoon through the bowl.

Like his mother, he was dramatic about it, gagging at the mere thought of eating what he was given. “I want chicken nuggets.” He whined out, now looking at his mother, who was sighing in content. 

“Take a few bites and try it! If you try it and you don’t like it, I’ll go get you some nuggets. Sounds fair?” She asked, keeping the stern tone yet offering a sweet smile, knowing damn well that he’d get his way in the end anyway. Even if he liked the soup.

“I’ll try it but I might be sick, mama.” He warned, looking at the broth with vegetables before he was taking a good amount on the spoon.

He eyed it over before pushing it into his mouth. Both parents couldn’t help the laughter falling from their lips as Benji pulled a face, looking offended he was even made to try it.

“Blegh! Nasty!” The animated child was pushing the tray table away as Y/N was already getting up to grab her keys. “I’m going! I’m going! Make sure that you watch your daddy, you know he likes getting into too much trouble.” 

As everyone had a plate in front of them, everyone was looking at the Reids, expectant of them to get up. Derek was the one who was already making two plates before placing them down in front of the two. “There you are pretty boy and pretty girl, no need to get up.” He knew what he was doing.

Even with the lack of appetite, Y/N was slowly picking up her fork before collecting a bit of the mac and cheese on her fork, slowly moving to push the fork in her mouth. She didn’t realize just how hungry she was before that bite. Of course, barely eating for two weeks would do that to you.

Spencer seemed to be on the same page, the two unknowingly eating like they hadn’t eaten in years. The group said nothing about it, although they shared collective glances and their eyes were glistening over with relief. 

They were eating enough to actually keep themselves alive, to keep themselves from falling ill and being stuck in the hospital being fed through IVs. After all they went through, they didn’t need to be in another hospital for a long time.

The rest of the day was spent with their family rather than them being locked up at home, real smiles gracing their features for the first time in forever. Being together in a quiet home was taking a huge hit at their mental health. 

This was what they needed. Their full support system. 

It was later on in the evening before Y/N and Spencer had gotten home, the two ordering takeout for dinner whenever they arrived at home. The wife was looking over the picture of their family that she had hanging up in the kitchen, a soft smile on her face. He looked so peaceful today, didn’t he?” She asked, her voice soft.

“No more pain, no more weakness.. Just peaceful.” Spencer added on, looking up from his hands. “Y/N.. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It was horrible to say,” He said as his wife was offering a gentle smile. “I understand. It’s hard right now but.. Spencer, I love you. With every fiber of my being. Please remember that.”

It was what he needed to hear, his head nodding. “I know. I love you so much, baby. Thank you. I’m here for you, even if you just need to cry and be taken care of.” The taller man was standing up before heading over to tightly hug his wife. “You’re so strong. So fucking strong.” He spoke softly while kissing the top of her head. 

All they needed to power through this together was each other, they would make it through this for Benji over all else. It was what he would've wanted , their love to persevere. 

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds thoughts #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid request #spencer reid thoughts #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader

[bau-drabbles]

masterlist/faq 💗

hi, i'm lia :) i really hope you enjoy reading these!! some of these might not make sense (written mainly at 12am lmao) so i do apologise if there's any mistakes/rushed. it will constantly updated so if there are any mistakes please don't hesitate to let me know 🤍

i'm always down to make new friends, please don't be shy to say hi or message!! :") i'd love to make new cm mutuals here ✨

requests/asks/drabbles/concepts are open!

i currently write for spencer reid and aaron hotchner but i'm not opposed to writing for the others, please feel free to ask. and if you'd like to be tagged for something specific or just in general, let me know <3 :)

mdni with any smut posts!! this blog is 18+ :)

spencer reid 🧸

best friends: fluff

meeting each other for the first time but he's completely entranced by you. much to your displeasure

say it again: fluff

being sick on a plane is never fun but your boyfriend is there to comfort you every step of the way

baby steps: fluff

the stars are beautiful but so is spencer reid, you have a hard time hiding the latter

keep me in your orbit, you'll know you drag me under: angst

it's simply much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch you at all. especially him

safety net: fluff

being in love is hard but spencer makes it all worthwhile

dancing with your ghost: angst

maeve's death affected spencer relationship with you more than realised, he just didn't know the true extent of it until jj points it out

whispered promises: angst

change is never easy, especially saying goodbye

request/asks:

do you like how i look? or just how i look on you?: angst

it's not easy having having relationship problems, especially when it stems from a woman he's loved for so long

only 1: angst

break ups are hard when you know deep down, you're not his one.

are you ashamed of me?: angst

loving spencer from afar is much easier than seeing him as he is.

insecurities: angsty fluff

spencer makes a comment a little too hurtful and it takes everything in you not to break down

soft moments with spencer: fluff

you find out your boyfriend is extra prone to accidents when he's away from you

struggles after prison: angsty fluff

prison was extremely rough, especially with self love and confidence but he's so lucky to have you by his side throughout it all

aaron hotchner 🦋

haunted, part 2: angst

emily, one of your close friends in the bau, comes back and after months of crying over her death you're not sure how to feel. it hurts the most when the deception also comes from aaron, the man you've loved for so long

the night we met, part 2: angst

what if haley never died that day? but what if your love for hotchner had to?

change your mind: angst

leaving the bau was difficult but leaving the man who holds your heart is even more worse.

goodnight n go: fluff/implied smut

drunk reader with oblivious/love struck aaron, the best type of mix

love me harder: smut

jealousy look good on hotch, so you've learned

requests/asks:

too many nights: angst

hotch loosing you because he's too stubborn, only realising how much you mean when you walk out of his life

you can tell me anything: fluff

having a sugar rush before bed is never a good idea. but your darling boyfriend will always entertain you

written in the stars: angst

being unable to be with hotch because of enemies but hotch is only complete and whole when he's with you

valentines day: fluff

spoiling aaron on valentines day <3

anxiety: fluff

hotch teaching you it's okay to be anxious, you're not alone anymore. you have him and the team

greedy for love: smut

your man is very stubborn but it's not an issue, you're an equal tease

making sounds: smut

aarons many sounds he makes in bed ;)

tender kisses: nsfw/fluff

small kisses with our beloved unit chief

saying goodbye: smut/angst

angsty emotional smut with aaron, clinging on to the reader before saying goodbye

hand in hand: fluff

running on a field hand in hand with your beautiful man, carefree and happy

picnics: fluff

a sweet picnic with the hotchner boys

soft hotch picnics: fluff

another picnic date with the hotch boys :)

aftercare: smut

how would aftercare look like with aaron hotchner? ;)

soft moments with hotch: fluff

staying back at the office and spending your evening in his company is a beautiful way to end the day

sweetest oblivion: angst

maybe hotchner isn't meant for you in this life

falling apart: angst. tw: implied suicide

you feel like you're falling into pieces and hotch can't quite save you in time.

dangerous love: angst

hotch can toxic with his work and it sucks to be on the receiving end of it all the time

3 + 1: fluff

3 times hotch pines for you and the 1 time the team do something about it

choosing between you and jack: angst

the choice is hard but it's one that has to be made

break ups: angst

its hard to leave a man you love with the entirety of your heart

nightmares: angsty fluff

hotch has a nightmare and you're the one he seeks

denying orgasms: smut

it's no surprise hotch denies your orgasms ;)

hotch cuddles: fluff

sweet sweet hugs with hotch <3

hurt/comfort: fluff

having a bad mental health day but hotch makes it all better <3

other 💌

spencer reid and his awkward smiles

your insta but you're dating aaron hotchner, part 1, part 2, part 3

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #david rossi #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader angst #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #aaron hotchner x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader angst #cm masterlist #masterlist

[leviswritingpage]

An Unhealthy Obsession-Story synopsis and requests

Brief Description:

You’re just a college student, trying to get by. Between a job you don’t care about, and lack of any relationship, there’s next to know excitement in your day to day. That might change however, when you attract the attention of a mafia family. At first, you didn’t suspect anything. Sure, you were meeting a lot of cool people in a short span of time, but nothing suspicious about that...right? 

-----

Suddenly, 9 yandere types become important parts of your life. And you? You’re their world. Reader will be pan in this story, and (spoiler alert) will end up with all of them. So heavy themes of polyamorous in this as well. 

-----

This is my first piece of writing I’ll be publishing, and it’s ambitious but. Had this idea in mind for a while. Was originally going to write it as a completely original work, with an OC to date the mafia family, but I’ve been falling into reader inserts recently. 

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What I’ll write for:

x reader stories with one or more of the characters, character interactions between multiple of these yanderes, how they met in the first place, and SFW scenes, violence, and different genres. Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc, reader of any gender (please specify).  

What I WON”T write for:

I will write NSFW eventually, but for now I plan to keep it SFW. Just until I get a better grasp of writing it, and do fully plan to have optional NSFW scenes for this series later. 

Character descriptions, pictures, and roles in the mafia below. 

Characters that will be involved in this and their picrew pictures:

Clingy:

Name-Finnian

Age-22

Gender-Male (He/Him)

Height-5’7

Role-Driver

Personality-Whiney, tends to pout and has a very “femboy” vibe. Can be pretty shy, and can fall a bit into the overprotective category. He dropped out of college, since he couldn’t find a field he wanted. Pretty indecisive in general, and has only fallen in love once…he doesn’t want to again. Can be blind to his own emotions, so when he starts getting clingy he’s the last to know it’s a crush/love thing. 

Obsessive:

Name-Nile

Age-19

Gender-Gender Queer/Gender Fluid (He/they)

Height-5’8

Role-Student (College-Elementary School Education) 

Personality-They are an aspiring teacher, but get in trouble for getting on their phone. They obsess easily, but fall out of that obsession even easier. Tends to hyperfocus on something for a few weeks to months, then abandons it entirely. They fall in love all the time. But again, they fall out of that love pretty quickly. And aren’t afraid to tell someone that.

Possessive:

Name-Ireena

Age-26

Gender-Female (She/her)

Height-5’2

Role-Vigilante

Personality-Very…very aggressive. Doesn’t know how to express emotions clearly, and she tends to sleep all day, then is awake “hunting” at night. The family is really the only people that see her. And she plans to keep it that way. Even her targets don’t see her often. Almost “assassin”-like. Gets angry at the littlest things, and takes it out on her targets. Most of her targets are people that are a threat to her family. 

Manipulative:

Name-Cleo

Age-28

Gender-Female (She/her)

Height-5’9

Role-Godfather

Personality-Comes off as cold, or callous. Hides her emotions well, so no one REALLY knows what she’s thinking. Will smile and lie through her teeth to get what she wants. Even to the point of fake crying at will, if it meant getting her out of “trouble”. She’ll end up flirting, but who knows if she really means it. 

Overprotective:

Name-Tatum

Age-25

Gender-Nonbinary (They/them)

Height-6’0

Role-Bodyguard

Personality-They’re deadpan. Rarely shows emotions on their face. Has a cute side, and that just so happens to be when they see small animals. Even big animals are called “cute”. They can see a wolf bigger than them, and still excitedly call out “PUPPY!”

Sadistic:

Name-Maeve

Age-26

Gender-Female (She/Her)

Height-5’6

Role-Cop/Mole

Personality-Acts really bubbly and kind. She’s always a “good cop” in that way. However…when she does “play” bad-cop? It’s downright scary. She’ll say threats that shouldn’t grace people’s ears, all the while having a chilling smile on her face. She can be rude to her family, and threaten to lock them up on the regular. Sometimes she’ll even pull over one of her siblings, just to see them squirm. But the second they see it’s her they leave. She lets them. Lets them.

Delusional:

Name-Hunter

Age-18

Gender-Male (He/Him)

Height-5’11

Role-Reporter

Personality-Can be overbearing, but he’s always looking for a new story. That’s how he comes across, that is. He’d rather a reporter than get bored and sit through classes in college. He interviews his family's next target, who are higher profile than that of others. He’ll put himself in danger for a story, but he knows he can fend for himself. Something. If anything else, he knows how limited someone’s time on earth is if his siblings figured out who hurt him. 

Self-Indulgent:

Name-Blake

Age-21

Gender-Male (He/Him)

Height-6’2

Role-Informant

Personality-Constantly meeting/flirting with new people. He drinks a lot, goes to parties, and acts drunk as hell. But he’s really getting closer to targets. Finding out information to report back to his family, before doing it all again the next night. Even his family doesn’t know if he’s talking to targets or partying for real. Probably a little of both.

Impulsive:

Name-River

Age-22

Gender-Male (He/Him)

Height-5’3

Role-Mortician

Personality-He HATES his job. If he’s too bored he’ll not show up. Or leave early. He’ll go and gamble for hours, and return to work with his new wad of cash. He’s very…very good at gambling. Mostly because his family knows of his gambling, and pays the casinos to let him make the best bet. He doesn’t even NEED any of the money. It’s just fun. Might steal a car and kiss a stranger. Who knows with this one.

#yandere x reader #x reader #mafia x reader #yandere mafia #yandere mafia x reader #levi's ocs #an unhealthy obsession

[saphirered]

Caged Birds Don't Sing

And here's the third and final part of this request! You can find part two here. I hope you have all enjoyed this little angsty piece as much as I have. Happy reading my darlings! 😘

You walk among the gore and decay, stepping over those who have left this world and the horrors that tore them away. You hear the wails be they cries of pain, of grief or relieve. You’re covered in grime, head to toe. The silk and gossamer had been exchanged for steel and leather but the burden is equally heavy. You just wander. No purpose. No direction. You hear the faintest echo pierce through your hazy mind. The world is numb. You are numb and waiting for it all to come crashing down, for the realisation to hit you viciously. You’re free. You’re free of her, free of it all. You were a fool to think it’d magically all be better. All those sacrifices you made, they were a blood price for this. The goal was reached but the price steep. You find your gaze connecting to the eyes of one who paid the price for your silence. The White Wolf of Doranelle steps up to you. You can see his lips moving. He speaks your name but his words are a distant echo. He grabs onto your arm and gently shakes you. 

Fenrys saw you walking among the corpses and chaos. You looked like an angel of death among them; reaping the souls of the fallen and walking them to the afterlife. Once upon a time he might have jested you looked horrible, that the battlefield did not suit you and you should return to your life of finery, that blood tarnishes even the prettiest diamonds. You might have clapped back but he knows now you won’t. You’re too far out of it. You don’t even respond when he calls your name. He realises why when he shakes you, when he sees that hand you had clasped over your abdomen move, and sees that blood and gore is not your enemy’s. You’re ashen, and have lost your radiance. You could never be plain but this must have been the closest you’d ever got to it. He’s all too aware how you straighten your back, you don’t even feel the pain anymore but still make it a point to appear presentable, as if you’re ready to meet your end.

“Have you come to finish the job yourself?” There’s an airiness to your voice. You’re ready. You know what’s coming. It’s all lead to this. “It’s okay, Fenrys. I’m ready to face the consequences of my actions.” Conflict crosses his features so you reassure him. You find it with yourself to take his hand and guide it to his sword. He doesn’t shake you off nor stop you. Still he looks conflicted. 

“I used to dream of this moment,” He starts holding onto that sword but then he takes your hand instead, placing it over your abdomen and keeps pressure on it. “But I was wrong. I know what you did. I know why. It wasn’t worth it. You did what you could to be selfless, to protect and preserve. You did it at the expense of so many others.” Fenrys thinks for a second while you take in his words. He continues no less. 

“How is it any different than any of this? Why do you deserve to die when we’ve done just the same? When I’ve done just the same in those years of service. It doesn’t make it right but I know I’ll be spending the rest of my days making things right. You are clever and quick witted. You see through lies and deception, and are a master of persuasion. You are stubborn and thickheaded and annoying but most of all you can be a complete and utter bitch. We need that. We need you.” 

“For now I would like to see the stars.” One last time… You don’t say it but something in your heart knows this to be true. The sun is close to set. You don’t even know how long you’d been wandering the fields. It might have been eternity. You knew it would end here on the battlefield. You knew this life of yours would come to an end with Fenrys standing there in front of you. That was your curse wasn’t it? You knew how it would end for Maeve but you never gave her the opportunity to get rid of those who would lead to her downfall prematurely. You had no intention of changing this moment of yours either. It’s best to not mess with the way things are supposed to be. You learned that lesson the hard way. 

Fenrys sees the solemn distance in your eyes. He cannot begin to imagine what runs through your head, not even now he knows the gravity of your life, of the burden you’ve carried ever since you met him. He doesn’t envy you. He simply nods and throws your arm over his shoulder and lifts you as if you were no more than a rag doll. If you wish to see the stars then you will witness them away from death and ruin. With what energy he replenished he takes you to the beautiful hills of some forgotten place. As the last light of the sun sets over the horizon and the grasses rustle in the wind he sets you down. He debates if he should sit down next to you but then he feels the gentle tuck on his sleeve. You stare up at him with bright and peaceful eyes and he finds himself lowering next to you. How is it in the aftermath of it all you have become the embodiment of peace among the chaos? How is he feels that pleasant relief and release now he is near you? 

Together you sit until the silver speckles fill the night’s sky. The air grows cooler, and the wind dances ever so lightly; the only sound of the rustling blades of grass banishing the echoes of haunted clashing steel. You feel warm and comfy and cozy so you slowly lay down and gaze up. An easy smile graces your features, even when you see Fenrys at your side. If someone had told you you’d be here right now in this very moment, you’d have called them fool. Yet here you are. Here he is and he stares at you with something you can’t quite place. There’s pity, regret but that’s as far as you can uncover. 

“It was easy to hate you for all she did to us. We couldn’t do anything about Maeve, loyal or not but you… I see now it wasn’t right- I don’t know- I think what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry it had come to this.” Fenrys stumbles over his words. For that smooth talking and quick-witted fae he is known to be he half expected you to give him shit for it. He’s surprised you don’t. You just smile up at the stars. 

“I’m sorry too. For everything. I wish I could have done better.” There are so many words you want to speak but don’t have the energy for to voice them nor does it seem to be the moment to bring up that horrible past now the healing can finally begin. 

He watches as you struggle to breathe a little. He adjusts, lifts your head and sits behind you so you may lean against him. Throughout his weeks of torture, you’d been the one to clean up the mess. You’d been the one to nurture his wounds and held him while he slept. He’d refused your help at first solely for the fact he hated you, or told himself he did. He meant what he said; it was easy to hate you, to blame you and tell himself you were the villain in the story. You patched him up. You’d given his brother a final resting place when no one else dared to. You’d lied to Maeve’s face about it too. You’d risked it all for him. How could he hate you now knowing what he knows? You’ve been so strong but so broken for so long. You deserve your peace. You deserve the one thing you asked for. He’ll keep you company just as you kept him. That’s what he tried to tell himself at least. 

Hatred can turn from many things. Fenrys is not ashamed to say he’d miss you if you’d become another casualty of this grand scheme of Maeve’s. You asked to see the stars for a reason, thinking it’d be the last thing you’d see. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t try. Your odds might not be looking good but he knows you’re stubborn. He brushes some tangles from your hair with his fingers. 

“Then do better. I dare you to do better, you stubborn little bitch.” He speaks with a laugh. You tilt your head backwards more to look at him and manage to raise an eyebrow, sniffling a snort.

“What?” You’re confused but something within you sparks beneath the surface of your skin. You’d never been one to back down from a challenge set by a furry bastard. A part of your mind asks the right questions; why should you stop now?

“You heard me.” He guides you into a sitting position and pats your cheek. “Think you can’t do it? You lost your game, sunshine.” 

“Fenrys, now is not-“ He places a hand over your mouth and your next words are muffled. You try to remove it but can’t get a grasp.

“No no. I expect a grand apology for all the years of slander of my esteemed character. Besides, if I’m going to do this ambassador thing, I need you to write me a good reference. It’s the least you could do.” He lowers his hand just in time for you to snort.

“Ambassador? You? You don’t even know the first thing about basic etiquette, let alone foreign etiquettes. You’ll start a war within the week.” There’s that spark again. There’s that life in your eyes, that chaos among the calm that he’s hated facing only to be reminded it was the only consistent thing, the thing he took joy in over all these years. It was easy to hate you and blame you but it was never truly satisfying. Fenrys had found great satisfaction in challenging you, teasing you because despite everything, you made a worthy opponent who would meet his challenge. You were a sparring partner in a fight none of his friends could match. 

“What you gonna do about it? Stop me? I’d like to see you try.” He crosses his arms and raises his chin in defiance. Your lips part and you scoff shaking your head. “You can spend the rest if your life looking at the stars right here or you can tell me exactly how I fucked up the precious table settings and ate with the wrong cutlery. Hell, you can even judge me for all the princess I’ll sleep with and haunt me for being banished from nations. Someone needs to know what they’re doing and I sure as hell don’t.” He’s not wrong. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and you do. When he looks forward on his own, all he sees is shortcomings and the need to learn. he could be taught and would be of course. And he’s not completely incompetent but when he looks at you, if he had you with him, he feels safe and confident. 

“Only an idiot would leave you unsupervised.” You’re not wrong and you can see the horrible scenarios play in your mind of Fenrys running half naked out of a country or greatly offending a court for not knowing their customs. He’d be a mess. You know no amount of tutors could put up with his bullshit or have the dog pay attention for more than five minutes. 

“Well then, hello there idiot. You’re my supervisor. Now let’s get you to a healer and a bath because frankly you reek of death.” You feel your heart beat in your ears, feel the rush of blood when he reaches out his hand and offers it to you. He needs you. And in a way you need him. You need Fenrys to remind you what it feels to be alive because that’s what he’s done. He’s taken many hurtful blows to your armour in the past but when you were at a loss, you knew him to be consistent, you knew what to expect and when it mattered most, you had each other despite it all, despite the hatred you had for each other. It won’t be an easy road but then again nothing about Fenrys is easy except maybe his tendency to share his bed with others. You sigh and close your eyes. You nod as you place your hand in his. 

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” 

“Eternally.”

“You better make it worth my time.” The look he gives you when you speak those words; the one that is filled with the most indecent thoughts, tells you enough. 

“You’re the only person who’s ever shared my bed and I haven’t fucked. We can change that.” He teases. Old habits die hard but he’ll never go out of his way to let you know you’re his type. Previously it would be followed by a comment of how your horrible attitude or the moment you’d open your mouth would be an instant mood kill. There’s no follow up comment. 

“I’d like to see you try.” You couldn’t resist the urge to make that comment, to set that challenge and while your initial thought is you’d regret this, everything else screams you won’t. You just won’t make it easy on him. Fenrys laces his fingers with yours, gently pulling your entwined hands towards him and therefore urging you forward. Cocky bastard. 

“How about a kiss first? I’m told it leaves the many wanting for so much more. You up for the challenge?” You don’t answer but instead close the distance and so his lips meet yours. He’s damned. He’s down the rabbit hole and falling forever more. He’s breathless. Few people managed to get him so and he’d be damned if he’d let you win that easily. He’ll still take great pleasure in this moment but when your lips finally part, he has the both of you falling through the worlds and reappear in the healer’s ward. 

“I hate you.” You groan.

“And you can hate me even more after you’re all patched up.” 

#throne of glass x reader #fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys #throne of glass fenrys #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fic #throne of glass #sjmaas #sjm fanfic #sjm fic

[anothermansjeans]

idk how you feel about songfics but i’m obsessed w tswift’s dbatc rn and i’m just thinking about spencer reid having a secret relationship that he leaves bc he’s afraid his so will be killed by an unsub but his so is like a local singer and garcias a huge fan and is like omg this song is so beautiful and sad happy ending or angst ending doesn’t matter i just think that song encompasses how i would feel if i loved and lost reid sorry for rambling anywayyy

i am a woman on a mission and ik you just requested this but as soon as i saw it i got immediate inspo

i also have a hotch x reader fic called death by a thousand cuts BUT i had to do this one as well 🫶 also i’m so sorry if it’s shit i’m so tired lmaoooo

I Can’t Pretend It’s Okay When It’s Not

spencer reid x fem!reader

When Penelope gushed about a local musician she absolutely adores playing at the cafe she visits frequently and forced the entirety of the BAU team to tag along, she forgot to mention what Spencer would deem the most important piece of information— her name.

At first, when they walked into the coffee shop already a couple songs in due to the team's later arrival (much to Penelope’s dismay), Spencer wasn’t completely aware of the angelic voice completing beautiful melodies. His main focus being on getting coffee into his system asap, while he was up at the counter, he tuned it out almost completely— again, almost. The moment he heard her speak was a completely different story.

“Um, so this is a new song…” the woman on the small five inch high stage started, “I actually wrote it a couple weeks ago after a very… difficult time in my life… a time I’m still actually going through, but I hope you guys have it in your heart to give it a listen with open minds. This is Death by a Thousand Cuts.”

Spencer slowly walked back over to the team, eyes wide and fixed on the woman he believes is the love of his life. The only problem being he has no right to call her his anymore.

Soft strumming of the guitar began, with low my’s being sung, and he heard a soft gasp come from his left. “Oh, this is gonna hurt,” Penelope said, one hand placed on her chest while the other hugged around her body.

“Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

Flashbacks waking me up

I get drunk, but it's not enough

'Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

'Cause I can't pretend it's ok when it's not

It's death by a thousand cuts”

Not even a minute in and Spencer feels as though he’s been stabbed through the heart. It’s difficult hearing it from her perspective. When he made the decision to end what they had, it was out of protection— it was so that she wouldn’t have to deal with the burdens of his job.

“I dress to kill my time

I take the long way home

I ask the traffic lights if it'll be all right

They say, "I don't know"

And what once was ours is no one's now

I see you everywhere

The only thing we share

Is this small town”

“You said it was a great love

One for the ages

But if the story's over

Why am I still writing pages?”

Spencer thinks back to their love story, back to when it began and the blissful moments, the rendezvous’, and the unasked questions about why they only ever had real dates inside and why no one on the team or anyone with any semblance of importance in Spencer’s life knew of them.

He thinks back to how happy she was, and how she was content with just being with him. How when her eyes lit up the first time he said he loved her, but also the dim the second he ended things.

He thinks about the nightmares he thought were over. How instead of Maeve being the victim it was now her. How if it wasn’t for those nightmares, the onslaught of “what-if’s” wouldn’t plague his mind. How if he had a less dangerous job, a job that didn’t take every ounce of life or happiness out of him, he would and could still be with her.

And as he thinks of these things, he suddenly becomes aware of the blazing eyes that had locked with his, and a tiny gasp is heard from the microphone before she starts playing with more vigor.

“My heart, my hips, my body, my love

Trying to find a part of me that you didn't touch

Gave up on me like I was a bad drug

Now I'm searching for signs in a haunted club

Our songs, our films, united we stand

Our country, guess it was a lawless land

Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

Paper cut stings from our paper thin plans”

It hurt. So much. And it was clear it wasn’t only him because each word she sang was aimed to puncture him. The tears brimming in her eyes were also evident. To anyone else, her words are curated from past

memories from someone who hurt her, but to Spencer, it was a message. A message that every single part of their relationship was taken into account while writing this song. A message that everything they’ve ever said or done had been tainted with the memory of him leaving her with no explanation.

“My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust

Trying to find a part of me you didn't take up

Gave you too much but it wasn't enough

But I'll be all right, it's just a thousand cuts”

He watches as she screws her eyes shut, and the sharpness of her words becomes duller as she sings on. He knew he fucked up the moment he walked out of her apartment the night he ended it, but he has never regretted it more than now. He misses her. He misses smiles, the laughter, the unconditional love that radiates from her. He would do anything to get that back.

He doesn’t realize he’s standing there, staring at her in awe mixed with sadness until applause is heard throughout the cafe and Penelope lets out a small “so sad and and beautiful,” while wiping under her eyes. He also doesn’t realize that after she announces a small break that he was walking up to her in a daze, the entire team behind him eyes wide with shock.

He also doesn't realize the first words he speaks to her are what they both longed to hear between the two for weeks.

“I miss you so much.”

She’s shocked to say the least. She’s completely speechless to the point where he begins to speak again due to the lack of words on her side.

“I’m an idiot— I’m, I’m so stupid. You’d think with an IQ of 187 I would be able to not make decisions like leaving the one woman I love the most in the world. Y/N, I swear I thought I was keeping you safe because with me and my job, that’s not always a guarantee, but listening to you and what you’re going through, I can’t— I know it wasn’t the right thing to do—”

“Spencer,” she finally cut him off, placing her hand on his arm and shifting her eyes to the people behind him who had been standing with him. “Later, okay? You can tell me everything later when we aren’t surrounded by a bunch of people.” The look in her eyes was genuine, but there was still hurt swimming in them. He wanted to say something, anything to ease it, but before he could open his mouth she grabbed the acoustic guitar and gave him a small smile. “And I miss you too,” she said before walking back up on the small platform and adjusting her mic.

While introducing her next song, Spencer slowly made his way back to the group who were going to ask the inevitable questions, but that didn’t stop the small smile from making its way to his lips, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, they won’t have to pretend to be okay anymore.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #anne marie answers

[cheezihouse]

I Would like to make my request: Zephyr and Maeve (wearing a bikini) are at a beach as Zephyr hugs Maeve's belly as their babies squirm

Two more questions

Is it okay if I request art of Ghouliette, Ghouly's character?

Which of your female characters are you comfortable drawing pregnant? Can you list em down? (I want to play it safe)

“Hellooo! How are my three favorite people?”

Please read below!!

I appreciate your request, I love Maeve and I’m happy to draw her! However, a big part of my character drawing is also my characters themselves. Maeve traditionally wears a niqab and keeps her clothes rather loosely- going as far as sleeveless shirts. I understand the appeal for a bikini, but did not feel it was justice to her character.

I was still happy to complete the project, but I did change the bikini aspect due to my own comfort and her character!

1. As much as I loved drawing Ghouliette, she isn’t my character and belongs to @ghoulys

We’d love to do some collab/trade art at some point- but she isn’t mine to consistently draw, and you can definitely find more fire art on his page!

2. My page primarily consists of tmpreg, as that is the alignment of most of my characters and I have more of a gravitational pull towards. My only female presenting character as of now is Maeve, but I hope to introduce more in the future!

I hope this helps with things, and I’m sorry if that is a bummer in anyway! Feel free to stick around if I introduce anymore fem characters!

#preggo kink #pregnancy art #cheezi characters #cheezis words #fpreg #this was an interesting spill to get into but im happy to clarify

[stranger-nightmare]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 | 𝐏𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

requested by my lief

A/N: we’re taking Queen Maeve’s comment about Hughie’s energy just screaming ‘raw dog me, I’m a bottom’ and were rolling with it besties, enjoy!!

“Aw, my poor baby,” you coo mockingly. “Rough day at work?”

Hughie just nods silently, his head shifting where it was buried in your lap. You hum gently and stroke his hair.

“You want me to take care of you, hmm?” You ask invitingly, knowing exactly what it was he wanted; what he needed.

He looks up your with his puppy-dog eyes, nodding again and murmuring a soft ‘please’ against your stomach. You stroke his face again and lean down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Okay baby,” you whisper, “why don’t you go get ready for me on the bed, yeah? And I’ll go get dressed.”

Hughie nods again before quickly getting up and padding his way over to the bedroom. You follow suit quickly after. Hughie strips immediately and moves to climb onto the bed, situating himself on all fours, his ass facing towards you as he looks back at you with need etched on his face. You smirk to yourself as you grab the strap and harness from the bottom of the cupboard, quickly shedding yourself of your own clothes and equipping yourself with the black harness and purple strap-on. You quickly spread some lube onto the dildo before making your way over to where Hughie was waiting for you.

“Hmm, that’s a good boy,” you hum as you reach the edge of the be.

You continue to hum gently, soothing and reassuring Hughie as you caress his hips gently, pulling him back so that he was lined up with your hips where you stood at the base of the bed.

“You ready baby?” You ask gently as you rub the tip of the dildo between his cheeks.

“Yes, please. Please. Need you,” Hughie mumbles pathetically, pushing his hips back against your strap.

“Don’t worry babyboy, I’m gonna take good care of you,” you coo as you slowly start to push into him.

Hughie whimpers and mewls, his arms giving way as he collapses onto the mattress, his ass lifting even higher as you start to fuck into him. You smirk to yourself lightly as you look at him, a whimpering and fucked-out mess already, and you’d barely even begun. You were going to fuck the living daylights out of this boy. This man who was willing to stand against Homelander despite being only mortal himself. This man who knew no fear when it came to protecting those he loves.

And he was a complete wreck under your touch.

If only the boys could see Petite Hughie now...

Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

#stranger nightmare #kinktober 2022 #hughie campbell #hughie campbell smut #hughie campbell imagine #hughie campbell x reader #hughie campbell x you #hughie campbell x y/n #the boys smut #hughie campbell x female reader

[frogspond200]

𝚈𝚊𝚗!𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Requested by: @xoxo-maeve-xoxo

Ask: Could you write yandere! Poly Huntlow × gn! Reader who like... DOESNT believe the two are obsessed with them?

Warning: General Yandere, Insecure Reader

──────────────────

Hunter and Willow are completely infatuated with you, but you can’t wrap your head around why. They’re both talented and unique individuals, and you often question why they’d choose you. They both have their own ways of expressing their affection, from Willow’s sweet gestures to Hunter’s subtle protective instincts, but you chalk it up to them being friendly or caring in general.

You use humor as a defense mechanism to cope with your insecurities. Whenever they compliment you or act affectionate, you make jokes or deflect with sarcasm, not believing their sincerity. Deep down, you’re afraid that if you take their affection seriously, you’ll only set yourself up for disappointment when they eventually realize you’re not as special as they think.

worthiness of their attention. You think, “Why would they like me when there are so many other interesting people out there?” This feeling of inadequacy often leads you to self-doubt, but you try to push those thoughts aside to enjoy their company.

Despite your doubts, you’re continually surprised by how devoted Hunter and Willow are. They go out of their way to spend time with you, make you smile, and protect you when needed. You secretly cherish these moments but try not to let your guard down too much.

You convince yourself that their affection is temporary, that they’ll eventually lose interest in you and move on to someone better. This fear haunts you even in the happiest moments with them. You haven’t fully accepted that they genuinely love you, even though their actions say otherwise.

Your internal struggle is a constant battle between your feelings for them and your self-doubt. You want to believe in their love but fear being hurt if it’s not real. Sometimes, you seek reassurance from them, asking if they’re sure about their feelings, hoping they’ll convince you it’s not just a passing fascination.

𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛

Hunter tends to be more protective when cuddling. He wraps his arms around you securely, often placing a hand on your waist or back to make sure you feel safe and comfortable. His touches are warm and reassuring.

Hunter displays physical affection by small, protective gestures. He might place a hand on your lower back when guiding you or subtly intertwine his fingers with yours when walking together. His affection is quiet but constant.

Hunter’s hugs are firm and comforting. He embraces you in a strong and reassuring manner, making you feel safe and protected in his arms. His hugs convey a sense of security.

When you all sleep together, it’s a cozy and intimate experience. Hunter likes to be the big spoon, wrapping his arms around you, and Willow, forming a protective cocoon of warmth.

𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠

Willow, on the other hand, is gentle and nurturing. She likes to spoon you from behind, holding you close with her arms draped over you. Her touches are tender, and she loves leaving soft kisses on your neck or shoulder.

Willow is indeed the better cook between the two. She’s a natural in the kitchen and loves experimenting with different recipes and flavors. She often prepares delicious meals for you and the others, and her dishes are always a hit.

Willow is more openly affectionate. She loves holding your hand, cuddling, and showering you with kisses on the cheek or forehead. Her warmth and affection are palpable in every touch.

Willow’s hugs are tender and full of love. She holds you close, resting her head on your shoulder, and often sways gently when hugging. Her hugs are warm and make you feel cherished.

Willow often rests her head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as she drifts off to sleep. Hunter keeps watch, making sure you all have a peaceful night’s rest.

#x reader #the owl house #the owl house x reader #huntlow x reader #yandere huntlow #yandere huntlow x reader #yandere willow park x reader #yandere x reader #yandere hunter headcanons #yandere willow park x reader the owl house #yandere willow park x reader toh #yandere willow x reader the owl house #yandere willow park #yandere willow x reader toh #yandere hunter the owl house #yandere hunter x reader #yandere hunter x reader toh #yandere hunter toh #yandere hunter #yandere Hunter x reader x yandere willow toh #yandere Hunter x yandere Willow x reader #yandere toh #yandere toh x reader #yandere the owl house x reader

[harlequinromancing]

Bergamot and Beans Ch1

AstarionxTav, Coffee/Tea Shop AU - set post endgame. First meetings, falling in love, eventual smut. (And a little angst!) No warnings apply.

WIP - subscribe on Ao3 or follow for more.

-

“You’re late,” Alfira said, removing her apron and levelling a disappointed look at Maeve.

“I know, I know!” Maeve huffed, throwing her satchel behind the counter and pulling an apron on. “I done got stuck talking to Master Sinclair, didn’t I? Y’know how he drones on in the evenings.”

Alfira strode away from the counter and picked up her lute, beginning to tune it.

“Maeve, you know I have no idea what any of these people are like, right?”

“I tell you about them all the time!” Maeve turned to Alfira with an exasperated look, pinning her wild red hair out of her face.

“Yes, but you know how you drone on.”

“Oh, shut it, you make me listen to every bloody detail of your life,’ she said, haphazardly clipping on her name tag.

“That’s because it’s far more interesting than boring old monks in a stuffy library… Oh. Wow…’ Alfira trailed off, looking over Maeve’s shoulder. She cleared her throat and continued. “You have customers, by the way.”

“Feck, sorry, okay, what can I–” Maeve turned to face the men behind the counter, plastering on a smile, and found herself momentarily dumbstruck by a strikingly beautiful elf. “…get you, gentlemen?” She hoped she had managed to brush it off as being flustered.

The more harried human of the pair spoke first, asking for a strong cup of coffee with a frightening amount of sugar. Maeve raised her eyebrows at his request - she pitied whoever had to spend time with this man after he consumed it.

“Sure thing, and what about yourself, sir?” Maeve said, turning back to the elf, stealing a moment to properly look at him. He was gorgeous, all perfect lines, and soft-looking hair. He reminded her of one of the marble statues she had studied years ago - the seductively handsome devils playing at being angels.

“Coffee isn’t really my drink.” He sounded almost bored, leaning against the counter, but there was a soft smile playing on his lips as he looked at Maeve. His red eyes seemed to stare straight into her, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. “Surely there’s something more… appetising?”

Well here at Bergamot and Beans we're known for our wide selection of teas! 23 flavours and counting,” Maeve said instinctively, gesturing to the shelves behind her.

Hell’s inferno, she thought, what a tosser I sound like.

“Elkazaran Breakfast’s the most popular,” she supplied, when he raised his eyebrows.

“Sure, why not?” he said, and looked almost… disappointed.

“Great, have a seat and I’ll get those ready. A copper each, thanks.”

They dropped the coins on the counter and Maeve turned away to prepare the drinks as Alfira started playing her set, the opening bars to Somebody’s Girl filling the shop.

When they were ready, she set them down in front of the two men, the human man thanking her far more graciously than a simple coffee delivery warranted. That, and his amusing order, earned the two of them what would be her only genuine smile of the night.

‘Enjoy! Let me know if you need anything else,’ she said, unintentionally directing it towards the pretty elf.

“Thank you, Eveaw,” he said with a smile, and far more warmth than she normally received from customers. She lingered for just a second, to savour the feeling, until two women walked in and signalled the start of the evening rush.

Maeve was already halfway back to the counter when she twigged to what he said. She looked down at her chest and read the name tag there: ‘MAEVE’.

It was upside down.

She muttered out a curse and tore it off, throwing it under the counter as she greeted the two women.

Several more people came in after, and by the time she had a break in service to come check on them, the men had already left. The coffee cup had been drained completely, but the lukewarm tea was almost entirely untouched.

-

Several hours later, Maeve pulled her hood closer around her face as she turned down a dark alleyway.

She stepped down a set of stairs to a basement door, and palmed a silver coin to a dwarven man sitting in front of it.

“Good to see you again, Morrigan,” he said in a low voice, opening the door for her. “You’ve got a nice crowd in there. Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks Darmund. Shan’t be needing it, if it’s anything like last week.”

Darmund laughed quietly, clapping her on the back as she passed through the door. The sound grew as she ventured deeper into the building, down another flight of stairs and through the twisting halls, until she emerged into a large, dark room filled with people and a smoky haze.

Lakrissa found her quickly, taking her cloak from her and ushering her to the edge of the ring.

“I like the new hair colour,” she said, twirling a lock of it around her finger, “the brown suits you.” She looked down at her fingertips, noticing the residue it had left there, and wiped it off on Maeve’s shoulder.

“Thanks. It’s only temporary. I figure now I’m making a wee name for myself, it might serve to be less recognisable down here.”

“Smart thinking. Now you're just another copper-a-dozen half-elf."

"Thanks," Maeve said dryly. "How's looking in the ring then?"

"Well, it sounds like you might finally have a challenge on your hands again, there’s a new fighter in your class with some real buzz. Betting’s against you, so you stand to profit if you win.”

Maeve tucked in the ends of her wrist wraps, flexing her hands to test the fit and watching her opponent do the same.

She looks strong, but slow, she thought.

Maeve was right - once she got in the ring and dodged a few pot shots, she was practically dancing around the other woman, teasing her and trying to goad her into a mistake.

One lapse and I’ll have her. It was almost too easy.

But then, through the haze over the other woman’s shoulder, Maeve spotted a flash of white hair across the room. Her eyes followed it, mind wandering to her interaction earlier that day.

There’s no way he’d be down here.

“Get your head in the game, Morrigan!” Lakrissa shouted from behind her. Maeve realised her distraction a moment too late as a fist connected with her jaw, hard .

-

Three evenings passed before Maeve saw the two men again at Bergamot and Beans.

“Not a fan of the Elkazaran Breakfast were you?” Maeve asked when they approached her.

“...What? Oh, uh, no, it was fine,” the elf said, taken aback. He wasn’t the first to be surprised by her sharp memory. “But nevertheless, I think I’m in the mood for something different today.”

“Of course, what tickles your fancy?” Maeve said with far more enthusiasm than required. She cringed internally as she listened to herself.

“You know what? Surprise me.”

His eyes travelled down to the side of her face, clearly catching the purpling bruise on her jaw. Maeve quickly turned her attention to the other man.

“And for yourself? Strong and sweet again?”

He was looking a jot less harried than the last time he was in, but still had an unmistakable air of disarray about him. Typical wizard.

“You remembered!” he said, brightening visibly. “Yes please.”

As they walked away, Maeve caught the beginning of their conversation.

“See Astarion, this is what a little loyalty gets you…”

Astarion. Maeve mouthed the name silently, filing it away for later. A pretty name for a pretty man.

This time, she double checked her name tag before delivering their drinks. Just as she had hoped, Astarion thanked her with extra emphasis on her proper name, so she risked a wink at him and earned a slight smirk back.

Returning to the counter, she kept an eye on the elf, watching for a reaction. He sipped his tea, looked decidedly unfazed, and continued his conversation with his very animated friend. Maeve didn’t see him touch the cup again.

Bugger.

--

Two nights later, right at the end of the evening, the bell above the door tinkled.

Maeve looked up from the book she’d been engrossed in for the last half hour to see Astarion again. But he was alone this time.

“The lemon green was a bust too then?” she asked, fatigue dulling her usual chipper work-voice.

“Not my favourite,” Astarion said with a chuckle, and she was struck again with that curiously intent stare of his.

“Keen to try something else then? A little more floral perhaps?”

“Dealer’s choice,” he said, waving his hands in her direction.

Maeve gestured for him to take a seat as he dropped a copper on the counter, and she turned to survey the shelves of tea.

She heard his footsteps a few seconds later than she anticipated, like he had lingered. Probably looking at my arse, she thought – he wouldn’t be the first.

Her fingers trailed across the jars of tea before settling on the jasmine. White flowers for white hair.

Maeve brewed two pots of it and when she turned to take one over to him, she jumped, surprised to see him sitting at the counter just a few seats down.

He appeared to be engrossed in a sheet of paper in front of him, a pair of gold reading glasses perched on his nose, but Maeve caught him smirk when she startled. 

“Thank you, Maeve,” he said when she set the pot down, a hint of ritual to his speech.

“Yer welcome, Astarion,” she said, holding back a wee grin.

He paused in his movements, looking up at her with narrow eyes, like he might say something. But he breathed out a little ‘huh’ and his face softened again, his eyes still on her.

“You’ll want to pour that quick, it’s a delicate wee brew, the jasmine.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you from yours then,” he said.

“Of course,” Maeve said, and tapped her fingertips on the counter. “Enjoy.”

She returned to her own seat, pouring out a small cup and inhaling the sweet smell of it, watching him over the rim of her cup as she pretended to drink.

When Astarion tasted the brew, he made a face that could only mean “Meh.”

Maeve chuckled into her tea, and he looked over at her.

“Big fan of that one, are ye?” she asked.

“I’m starting to think tea’s not the drink for me either.”

“Don’t be silly, love. Just have to find the right one, don’t we?”

“Three down, twenty more to go,” he said, nodding at the shelves of tea. 

“Hopefully it doesn’t take that many. I’ll have to go looking for some more options then!” she laughed.

“Gods forbid,” Astarion said, looking back at her with a slight smile. Maeve held his gaze for a moment, and when his eyes travelled back to her yellowing bruise, she looked back down at her book. 

They sat in relative silence for several minutes, Astarion taking one sip for every 10 of hers, until Maeve slammed her book closed.

“What a feckin’ idiot!” she muttered, taking another drink of tea to calm her down. She noticed Astarion looking over at her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It couldn’t have come at a better time, actually. This report was threatening to put me to sleep for the first time in my life.”

Maeve snorted indelicately into her tea, and luckily he spared her a remark.

“What are you reading then? Who’s the fecking idiot ?” he asked, mimicking her accent with surprising skill.

“Elminster Aumar’s Extended History of Faerun - you’d think the bloody man had never left Baldur’s Gate, what with how much he’s made up. Doesn’t know a feckin’ thing about The Whalebones…” Maeve stopped herself before getting too far down that path. Alfira could pretend to listen tomorrow. 

“Gods below, what convinced you to pick up that drivel?”

“Some silly bint working at Sundries. Gods, don’t get me started on her either.”

Astarion huffed a small laugh, looking away from her.

Maeve lifted the lid off her teapot, making a small noise of disappointment when she saw it was empty. Astarion slid his over without a word. 

“You’re sure?” she asked.

“You’ll enjoy it far more than I will.”

Maeve poured herself a cup, took a sip, and made a face.

“And you expected me to like that one?” Astarion teased.

“Been in there too long, it’s turned bitter now,” she said, and glanced up at the clock. “... d’ya want to try something else? On me.”

“How could I turn down such a tempting offer?” he asked, leaning forward to place his chin on his hands.

“This time I am gonna make you choose something though,” she said, leaning across the counter towards him. “Sweet or spicy?” 

“Well, I do like spicy food,” he said conspiratorially.

“I thought you might.”

Maeve prepared a single pot and set it on the counter between them.

“This one,” she said, holding out the open jar of tea to him, “is a divisive one. Technically a tisane, because it contains no tea leaves - but try telling the average punter that. Dark chocolate, chilli, and dates are what you’ll be smelling there.”

Astarion took a deep inhale of the scent, pulling a face that at least tried to appear receptive.

“Well it certainly sounds interesting if nothing else,” he said, and slid his cup over.

“That it is,” she said, making no move to pour. “And it needs a few minutes to really develop those flavours. So while we wait… Tell me, Astarion, what brings you in tonight? I suspect it’s not tea.”

“Well, Maeve . You remember Gale.”

“The wizard you been coming here with?” she asked, leaning against the counter towards him.

“The very same. He was terribly busy and insisted I come down so you wouldn’t forget about us. Something about maintaining our ‘customer loyalty’… Honestly I stopped listening after that. But… I suppose there are worse ways to spend an evening.”

“I suppose there are,” she said, letting a wry smile settle on her face. “And he doesn’t need to worry. Hard to forget someone who drinks coffee strong enough to kill me nan… Or a face like yours.”

Astarion huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Does that one usually work for you?”

“More often than not,” she admitted, laughing as well. “Probably not as well as it does for you.”

He fixed her with a stare, his face unreadable. “You are perceptive, aren’t you?”

“My stock-in-trade.”

He held her eye for a long moment.

“Interesting.”

Maeve scoffed. “Ah, I’ve been called worse I suppose.”

Guessing that enough time had likely passed, she poured out a cup for each of them, and took a drink, enjoying the slight tingle of the chilli. He watched her the whole time, without reaching for his own.

“Go on then, it’s perfectly safe now.”

He took a sip, and this time he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. 

“That one’s not bad, actually.”

“Aha!” Maeve exclaimed, slapping the counter. “We’re making progress! I’ll mark that one down in the maybe column.”

“You’re keeping score,” he said, levelling a playful look at her.

“Can you blame me? You’re a repeat customer even though I’ve not served you a single thing you’ve more than tolerated. How could I pass up an invitation like that? I will find something that you like,” she said, stabbing a finger down on the counter in emphasis.

“So you like a challenge, then?”

“It’s not even necessarily liking them … I just cannot abstain from them, no matter how hard I try.”

“I imagine that gets you into a fair bit of trouble.” 

“You’ve no idea.”

“I may have some.” 

Maeve narrowed her eyes, thoughts briefly flitting back to that flash of white she saw…

“Do you now? Surely not with the company you keep. How much trouble can you really get into when you’re with a wizard all the time?”

“He’d surprise you,” Astarion chuckled. “But I don’t spend all my waking hours with him. I still have time for… trouble .”

“And what kind of trouble is that?” Maeve asked, dropping her voice lower and leaning in towards him.

“Well,” he said, mirroring her actions, “there’s the usual excesses; drinking… debauchery… sex.”

He enunciated the last word clearly, staring into her eyes as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing along the edge of her jaw. 

Maeve held his stare, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an outward reaction, despite the momentary stutter of her heartbeat. He was clearly a practised hand at making people shiver.

“Does that one usually work for you?”

Astarion dipped his head, his shoulders shaking slightly as he stifled a laugh.

“It does, actually,” he said, looking back up at her. “And frankly, that gets rather boring. I quite like a challenge myself, as it turns out.”

“Well, Astarion, if you’ll indulge me in mine…” she trailed off, gesturing between them in invitation.

“Of course, Maeve. So what trouble are you getting yourself into, hmm?”

“Oh, nothing special. Burglary, larceny, affray.”

Astarion nodded his head seriously. He was hearing sarcasm that wasn’t there, just as she’d hoped. 

Maeve glanced up at the clock again, and stood up straight - she should have closed up about ten minutes ago.

“Alright, I should probably lock up now. Unless you’d like to finish that?” she asked, nodding towards his abandoned cup.

“No no, don’t let me monopolise your time any further,” he said, rising to his feet and letting her lead him to the entrance. “Will you be alright getting home? There are some dangerous people lurking around the Gate, especially at this time of night.” His hand came up, as if to examine the bruise on her face, but then he seemed to think better of it.

“I’ll be quite alright, thank you dear,” she said, lingering at the open door, waiting. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight Maeve.”

He started away, and she locked the door behind him. She lent back on the closed door for a moment, quickly replaying the evening in her mind. 

He’d certainly lived up to the little spark of interest that ignited when she first saw him. 

Maeve strode back over to the counter, throwing her apron at it and necking the leftover tea, before tidying everything away and heading upstairs to her apartment. 

-

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[handoverthekawaii]

We Go Together | Homelander x You | Chapter 21

Taglist: @hom3landr @theaudacitytowrite @lover1307

Note: This chapter contains brief mention of Biblical themes.

You and John part ways with Queen Maeve and Black Noir somewhere in rural Pennsylvania. Once it becomes clear that your group isn’t being followed, the captain of The Seven touches down in a strip mall parking lot and lowers his teammates to the ground.

While Maeve texts A-Train to come and pick them up, Black Noir wordlessly pulls a silver key out of his suit pocket and passes it to John. Then you and John bid the two Supes farewell, you embracing one after the other in teary hugs and thanking them again for helping to rescue you.

“Hey, no need to thank us,” Maeve says modestly. “We’re superheroes — this is what we do!” Turning to John, she adds,

“And whatever Vought was up to at that facility… is NOT what we do.” Maeve promises that she and Noir will grill Madelyn Stillwell upon their return, and they won’t stop digging until they figure out what else the company might be hiding.

“Keep me posted,” John requests, clapping both his teammates on the shoulder gratefully before lifting you back up into his arms.

As he takes flight, you catch a last glimpse of Maeve and Noir in the parking lot below. Noir is power walking across the parking lot toward a Buster Beaver’s Pizza Restaurant, and Maeve is following behind with a pretend-exasperated shake of her head. You have no idea what is going on, but you can’t help but smile at Noir’s singleminded focus. You’ll have to ask John about it later —

But not right now, because John is shooting up into the sky like a bullet fired from a gun. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his jaw set with determination as he rockets into the atmosphere. It would be impossible to speak over the howling wind, so you tuck your head beneath John’s chin and try to calm your nerves. I’m okay, you tell yourself. I’m safe.

We’re going to be alright.

John’s destination is the same place where Black Noir’s key unlocks the front door — a remote hideaway, high in New York State’s Catskill Mountains, where the Supe spends a couple weeks every summer. Noir has hosted private dinners for The Seven at this residence now and again, but at this time of year there’ll be no one around for miles.

It’s the perfect location to take refuge when you’re on the run from the most profitable corporation in America and need time to figure out your next move.

Your adrenaline levels had finally started to come down during the flight, but it is only when your feet hit the cedar front deck that you realize how utterly drained you now feel. When John turns away from you to open the door, you grab onto the porch rail tightly with both hands to steady yourself. You force yourself to take deep breaths, in then out, but the trauma and stress and existential dread of the day is catching up with you, and you are feeling a little worse for wear.

When John pivots away from the door to lead you inside, a bolt of terror courses through him at the sight of your drawn face and haggard, disheveled appearance. He has no idea whether you looked this unwell all day and he only just now noticed, or whether something more serious is wrong — could Vought have given you drugs that are just now fucking you up?!

John responds the only way he knows how, by leaning into his Homelander public persona and taking complete control of the situation. You hardly react as he swoops you into his arms, dashes into the kitchen, and sets you down on the marble countertop while he begins rifling through the cabinets.

A moment later, he deposits a paper plate of peanut butter crackers into your limp hands and tells you, “Eat a few of these for me.” [continued on AO3]

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