#do i know the circumstances of her going all Still Maeve But Very Much Not Maeve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dyns33 · 2 years

Text

Love

Context : The story takes place after season 2 (so careful, some spoilers ahead). Homelander agrees to let Ryan and Butcher go, not wanting to lose the public's admiration. When Edgar Stan asks him where his son is, he just smiles.

Vought makes believe that it was he who killed Stormfront, after she lost her mind and attacked civilians. The Seven are brought together, despite their hatred for each other, because of their contracts. Soldier Boy takes the place of Stormfront.

The Boys continue to fight against the supes, even if they are less active.

All of this does not matter in the following story.

Homelander was in love.

Well, he felt like he was in love. It had never happened to him before, so he had no real way of verifying that what he was feeling was love.

He hadn't really liked Maeve, although he had always found her funny and sexy.

He had just spent a night with Rebecca.

He had had a weird relationship with Madelyn, he had trusted her, he had wanted her to always be there for him, but her death hadn't really hurt him.

He thought he had loved Klara for a while, before realizing that he only loved the way she saw him. A God. But everyone already saw him as a God, that was nothing new. The only difference was that she was completely craaaaazy, and after a few weeks it had become boring.

Because Homelander wanted everyone to love him, he wanted everyone to respect him, to admire him, but he also wanted to be treated like a normal man sometimes. To be able to breathe, rest, not be perfect. To be himself. And that people would love him anyway after having see him like that.

Then he had met Y/N.

She worked for Vought, in the Damage Control department, so she knew him, she know him well, she knew his real story, what he could do, and how he could be. Yet she didn't seem to be afraid of him every time he entered the room. Unlike all of her colleagues, whose hearts were starting to pound very hard, the smell of their filthy sweat filling the air.

"Hello Homelander." she would say to him, smiling when she saw him. A kind smile, but polite. Respectful.

The first few times, Homelander thought she was stupid. Another ridiculous fan who refused to see what he was. Too bad, she was quite pretty, for a simple human.

It took him a little while to figure out that she was actually smart. Very intelligent, more than all the others. He had to talk to her to find out. But he liked talking to her, her heartbeat did not disturb their discussions too much.

Homelander noticed several things, in addition to her lack of fear. He learned that she knew very well that he was the strongest in the world, that he could twist her neck if he wanted, but she was not afraid, because she knew that he had no reason to do so, since she was doing nothing to annoy him.

He wasn't mad or an idiot, although he was still dangerous, so he didn't want to kill her for no reason. If he wanted to kill the others it was because they thought he wanted to kill them for no reason, looking at him like he was a monster. Not Y/N, who treated him normally.

She always asked him how he was. She was listening to him, really listening. She seemed to understand him, she kept his secrets and, most importantly, she never lied to him. Never.

Then she said a sentence that made him understand that he was in love.

"Doesn't that shock you ?" he had asked her. "The things we do sometimes. Some might think we're the bad guys."

"Nothing is ever black or white. You have to see things from a bigger angle, the motivations, the circumstances, the consequences. I know... what you've been through. It is normal that you want to let off steam every now and then, and you do it on criminals, so... While it's true that it's not always really necessary, the result is still that you save innocent lives, when you can. It's just that people would like everything to be perfect, which is not possible."

"Call me John." he had said stupidly, without thinking.

After that, without realizing it, Homelander had started following Y/N like a puppy. And not just in the office. He was following her everywhere, flying down the street. He wanted to check that she was not in danger, that she was okay. That she wasn't with someone else. He watched her when she was at her place, using his ray vision. He especially liked to see her relax in a bath, or sleep. He wondered if she was dreaming of him.

He dreamed of her, often. It had been a long time since he had dreamed. They were mostly pleasant dreams, in which they were together and happy.

Until the nightmare.

Everything had started well, they were in bed, Homelander between her legs, revelling in her moans and softness, lapping and pushing several fingers inside her. Until he pushes too much, too far, too hard. Panicking, he had brought out his hand with organs and the blood had started to flow without stopping. Y/N, either brave or in shock, was not screaming, but she was obviously in great pain. And he knew there was nothing he could do to save her. So, as he had done with Stillwell, he used his lasers to ground her skull and shorten her suffering.

He woke up with a start, and did not immediately understand that he had been dreaming. He hadn't had a nightmare since he was a kid, and he reacted like he did back then, destroying his room, screaming, crying, and asking where Y/N was when Ashley ran inside to know what was happening.

"Y/N ? From Damage Control, you mean ? I… I think she's home ? Why ? Something happened ? She did something ? Should I call…"

"No ! No... shut up and leave !"

Homelander had flown to Y/N's to check that she was alive, that she was fine, he stood watching her sleep for several hours, wondering what he could do to avoid the risk of hurting her. So that no one would hurt her. So that he would no longer be afraid of her dying.

If only she was like him, a supe...

That was how he got the idea. It was obvious though. Y/N had to become a supe. For that, she just had to take Compound V. Homelander knew how to do it, he had been created like that. He knew the right dosages, the time needed, for the drug to permanently activate the powers in a person.

Now, he couldn't predict what powers, it could be ridiculous and unnecessary powers.

But he was in love with Y/N. She was special. So he knew she was going to become a wonderful supe, a special one, he didn't doubt it for a second, as he injected the V into her arm while she was asleep, or when he gave her the time-diluted pills in coffee or tea while she was working.

Of course it was going to take a while, several weeks, and Homelander had never really been a patient man, but for Y/N he would stay calm and wait.

As he had expected, her powers were exceptional.

First of all, superhuman strength, as they discovered when she destroyed the bathroom door, breaking several walls and a window with it after she punched it. The poor darling had migraines, probably from the treatment, and she couldn't stand them anymore.

Then, extreme physical resistance. It was impossible to take her blood when she was taken to the infirmary, the needle breaking against her skin. Fire, electricity, ice, a punch, nothing could hurt her anymore.

On top of that, she had telekinetic powers, she could smash objects from a distance. People too. And make them levitate. With some training, she might be able to fly on her own. They would travel the sky together. Homelander loved the idea.

Before that, she had to be taken out of the Center, so that the doctors would stop asking her stupid questions, like "Did you take Compound V ?" Of course she had taken V, otherwise she wouldn't have any powers. They were insulting though, refusing to believe Y/N when she said she didn't know how it happened.

To help her, he had volunteered, coming to listen to her little heart to tell everyone that she wasn't lying.

It was then that they discovered her last power, as she looked at him with pain and hatred in her eyes, starting to scream.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to be able to read minds. Homelander didn't want to hide anything from her.

But he didn't quite understand why she was mad at him for making her a supe. He had done this out of love, to protect her, so they could be together.

He could only understand that she didn't like being locked up, questioned, watched like a lab rat. He would understand that perfectly. Homelander remembered Doctor Vogelbaum. His childhood. He didn't want his Y/N going through this at all.

But without Vought's help, she couldn't control her powers. What was causing her these terrible migraines, and which hurt her. He didn't want her to be hurt.

And she was hurt when she was seeing him, so he gave her some space, even though he came flying over the hospital to watch her from a distance.

Until she asked to see him.

Y/N was smart after all. She was still furious, but she knew it was too late, she couldn't get back to "normal", she was going to need help, his help, and she could trust him anyway, because he would never hurt her. Not on purpose.

Before entering her room, he warned the doctor and Ashley as gently as possible that they shouldn't talk to anyone about what they were going to hear. Homelander could have ordered them to leave, not to listen, but that was protocol, and he didn't want Edgar to get involved in any of this.

When he entered, Y/N tried to smile. She looked tired. Slowly, he went to sit next to her, taking her hand.

"Why ?" she asked simply.

Because I love you, he thought very hard. I love you I love you I love you. Stay with me forever.

"Everything will be alright." was his response.

"You really think that."

It was not a question. She knew he loved her, and she knew he was sure everything was going to be alright. He would make sure of it.

"They are listening." she whispered very low so that he was the only one able to hear her. He found it adorable.

"Don't worry about them."

"John..."

"Yes. Say my name."

"John, never do anything to me without asking me first."

"... I'll try." It was the most honest answer he could give her.

Then, unable to control himself any longer, he kissed her. It surprised her at first, she stiffened in his arms, before slowly relaxing, running her hands through his hair, on his cheek, on his neck.

Yes, Homelander was sure now, he was in love. He had never loved someone like this, except maybe himself, and he had never felt so happy, not even when the crowd chanted his name.

His joy was only disturbed when Y/N seemed to panic, pulling away from him to look at the door.

"... They left ?"

"No." he said, still hearing the beating hearts of the little vermin spying on them from the other side of the faceless mirror.

"... Ah, yes. It's weird, I... I couldn't hear them anymore."

It was enough to make him immediately forget his frustration at having been interrupted in the middle of a charming kiss. Because if Y/N hadn't read anyone's thoughts as he kissed her, it meant she really liked it. That she had been perfectly relaxed. That at that moment, there had been him and only him. Them. The most powerful couple in the world.

"Couple ?"

"Of course. You are mine, I love you, and you love me. You love me, don't you ?"

"Hmm..." Y/N muttered, wincing. "I... I think so."

It wasn't the most romantic statement in the world, but it wasn't a lie either, so Homelander decided to settle for it. For now. She added a shy little "Sorry John", kissing him tenderly, and it was his turn to forget for a moment that they were being watched, hugging her.

Not that there were witnesses of his gestures of affections and weaknesses embarrassing him, he had made it clear to them that they had no interest in talking about this to anyone. He had never been ashamed by anything, but he didn't want to make his Y/N uncomfortable.

So again, before going any further, he would be patient and wait until they were totally alone, to make love. Not to fuck, but to make love. It will be the first time for him. And maybe one day they'll have a baby together.

"John..."

Ah yes, could read minds, riiiiiight... Oops.

#the boys #homelander #the homelander #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #homelander fanfic #I love writing for this mad man

493 notes · View notes

spacedikut · 4 years

Text

lockdown lovers ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: lockdown!au. spencer goes from expecting his days to be filled with books, books and more books to books, an asshole cat, and a cute anonymous neighbour. 4857 words

a/n: i was so excited about this and stayed up writing it so i hope you like it too :)

masterlist

It’s three days into lockdown when Spencer notices the cat.

It’s a Maine Coon, he recognises instantly, but there’s this distinctive… dead look in it’s eyes. The body is huge – so fluffy it looks like the cat has a mane, ears invariably up straight and large enough that the eyes look beady in comparison. A mixture of white and grey throughout, the cat spends its days lounging across the windowsill of the apartment in the building next to Spencer’s.

He’s fascinated. How can a cat be so big, so ugly, yet so lovely?

He has to know more.

If he was anyone else, he’d argue the obsession is the fruit of going stir-crazy in his apartment. A lack of seeing his friends combined with having to work cases from home would be the perfect justification for Spencer to move his work station to the window facing the cat.

But this is Spencer. He’s happy being stuck home. He just likes the look of the cat.

He spends a good twenty minutes rifling through his stationary to find a piece of paper and the appropriate pen to jot a note for the cat owner. He thinks the owner must be stuck home, too, so if he sticks the note to his window and waits a day, he could know the cat’s name within twenty four hours.

They’ve had plenty of staring contests. Spencer should know his rival’s name.

So he does. He takes his time writing out the words “I like your cat. Do they have a name?” clearly on the paper, then spends a good five minutes deciding where on the window to stick the message.

He decides on the upper left corner. You won’t miss it.

The cat blinks sleepily at him as they watch Spencer tape the question up.

There’s an answer within three hours.

Spencer is too excited to be embarrassed at how enthused he was when he noticed the response.

Or when he saw the name.

Hi there! His name is Mr Darcy :) He’s a dick x

Spencer can’t help but profile the writing, the syntax, the grammar.

The first thing he notices is there’s a feminine lilt to the way you write – you’re a woman, most likely. The writing is slightly messy, indicating high intelligence, and the use of a smiley face and a kiss makes him think you’re younger in age. If you live alone, which you must because you live in a one bedroom apartment, he can safely guess you’re around his age.

And Mr Darcy… you’re a bookworm. At least for romance and the classics.

Spencer likes Mr Darcy. He has so many questions, suddenly, like how is Mr Darcy a dick and how old is he and why does he never seem to move from his position by the window and what is your name and who are you and do you happen to read a lot of books? Like Ray Bradbury? Please say yes.

He shocks himself. Maybe this quarantine is getting to him more than he realises. He hasn’t felt this excited since Maeve.

He hasn’t been this intrigued since Maeve. And the circumstances are similar, he realises.

No. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Spence.

He worries himself into a spiral when he begins thinking about how to reply. As if she can hear his whining, Penelope calls him.

They’ve made it a habit to call one another a lot. She recently taught him how to use his webcam and has been encouraging him to write more on his computer, rather than by hand.

“Good afternoon, my favourite Doctor.” She sings. He hears some shuffling in the background and can tell she’s baking.

“I need your help with something.” He cuts straight to the chase.

Her interest is piqued, “Oh? I am all ears.”

“Remember the cat I mentioned?”

“The ugly-but-beautiful majestic beast that, if you believed in reincarnation, would’ve been a high class gentleman in his past life? Yes. I think about him every day.”

“His name’s Mr Darcy.”

She lets out a screech, a mixture of a groan and moan that is filled with pure glee. “Of course he’s called Mr Darcy! Tell me everything. How do you know?”

He’s clearly impressed with himself when he says, “I asked.”

“Whoa.” Penelope freezes in her kitchen. “Are you, Doctor Germaphobe, breaking the lockdown rules?”

Spencer feels insulted. “No! Never! I stuck a note to my window, like in that viral tweet you sent me.”

She chuckles, “Well, I already told you I could’ve told you everything about Mr Darcy and the owner if you wanted me to. I am incredible.”

“I appreciate the gesture, Garcia-“

“But it’s morally wrong. Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. What have you said back?”

“That’s what I need your help with.”

Garcia is only a little surprised he’s asking her and not Derek. But, then, as much as she loves Derek, he’s a bit too.. much for someone like Spencer when it comes to love. Spencer approaches people gently, hesitantly, often giving the impression he doesn’t even want to be there.

Derek can have anyone on their knees within minutes.

Different tactics, that’s all.

“Alright, pretty boy. How long have you been talking? Purely through window messages? What else has been said?”

“Well,” He begins, clearing his throat, making eye contact with Mr Darcy, “We’ve only spoken once. When I asked for Mr Darcy’s name. You know, studies have shown that animals can form lifelong friendships with other animals, even if they’re not from the same species.”

“Spencer.”

“Most research has focused on chimpanzees, baboons, horses, hyenas, elephants, bats, and dolphins - but there’s no reason to think that friendship is exclusive to these species.”

“Spencer!”

“What?”

“You’ve spoken to them once?”

“Her. Spoken to her once. And it wasn’t speaking, it was writing.”

There’s a long sigh down the phone. “First of all, how do you know the owner’s a girl?”

There’s movement in Mr Darcy’s apartment. Spencer stares. “The way she writes.”

“Uhuh,” Spencer can hear her stirring something through the phone, “And what was the last thing said?”

Spencer’s eyes narrow – is that a person? Is that the owner? Is that her? Oh my god.

“Spencer? You still there?” Garcia looks to her laptop, checking the call is still connected.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. The last thing she said was his name is Mr Darcy and he’s a dick.”

“Oh,” Garcia smirks, “It’s sexy hearing you say dick.”

In normal circumstances, Spencer would register her comment and give a very distinct huh, but he’s distracted.

He sees Mr Darcy meow. A hand appears, petite, with fingernails painted yellow that have smiley faces on them. She brushes Mr Darcy’s fur back, pulling so the skin around his eyes tugs up high and he looks stupid. He seems to like it, though.

She must like smileys, he thinks.

Mr Darcy stands and stretches. He’s alarmingly long.

It’s silent on Garcia’s end, where she looks confused at the sudden silence. She checks again that the call is still connected.

“Spence?”

“Still here. Sorry. I thought I saw her.”

“Oooo,” She’s all giddy, “What does she look like? Is she pretty?”

“I couldn’t see her properly. I can tell she’s too cool for me already. This was stupid.” He sighs, “Forget I said anything. I’ll take knowing Mr Darcy’s name and move on with my life.”

Spencer moves to hang up, but is interrupted by a loud “No!” being shouted at him by Garcia.

“No, Spencer! No! You write something back to her right now and you form a friendship with someone that isn’t one of your colleagues. I love you with my whole heart, and you know that, but it would be good for you to expand your social circle!” She grins and bites her tongue between her teeth, “Aaaand.. this could be the start of a quarantine romance. God, I miss dating.”

At the mention of romance, Spencer visibly flinches. “I’ll see what I can do. I gotta go, Garcia, thanks for calling.”

“Love you. Please marry her so Mr Darcy can be the ring bearer.”

And she hangs up. He’s left contemplating whether he should respond, and what he should respond, as he watches the empty space where Mr Darcy is absent.

It must be dinner time for him.

+++

I’m curious as to how someone named Mr Darcy can be a dick.

That’s a good response, right?

Right?

It lets you know he gets the reference, he knows who Mr Darcy is named after, and leads you to continue the conversation. It’s perfect.

It’s taken him nearly two hours to come up with it. He feels exhausted.

He sticks it on the window, where Mr Darcy has returned to, and huffs out a breath.

He reminds himself to be calm and cool. This is simply a way to pass the time during quarantine, there’s no need to put too much pressure on himself to think it’s anything more or to put more effort than is necessary (he says, after spending two hours formulating a response).

Calm and cool. Cool and calm. Neither are words Spencer would ever use to describe himself.

Spencer stays up until nearly 1am reading. Just before he sleeps, he walks to the kitchen to get some water, and can’t resist checking to see if you’ve responded.

You have. He ignores the way his heart speeds up.

He used to share the windowsill with my other cat and a bunch of plants. Now he bites anything that attempts to move near him. He also likes to vomit on my pillow. My single pillow.

Spencer chuckles as he reads it. He remembers when the window was full of plants, and how one day they all just… disappeared. He assumed the person moved out, but now it’s funny to think that you had to move them all because Mr Darcy demanded he own that space.

He doesn’t recall ever seeing another cat.

Well, now he has to respond. He needs to know about the other cat!

He imagines Derek coming to him in an apparition, like some sort of angel, and saying, calm and cool, kid. Calm and cool.

Spencer decides he’ll reply in the morning. Cause he’s calm and cool, and totally doesn’t want to know anything and everything about you and the two cats you live with.

+++

The messages continue for days. Spencer learns a lot, despite his “attempts” to not profile you (“attempts” as in there was really no attempt).

He learns you were given Mr Darcy by a friend, he’s two years old, and your other cat is the recently adopted, affectionately named Stupid Sally. She’s a ginger cat, estimated to be at least four years old, and you refuse to believe there’s anything going on in that tiny head of hers.

Spencer catches a glimpse of Sally a couple of days after he learns her name. She jumps up beside Mr Darcy, bonks her head on the window, then is whacked by Mr Darcy and falls from the windowsill. Sally doesn’t make another attempt.

He still hasn’t seen you, though. The longer he talks to you, the more he wants Garcia to send him everything she can find on you.

But he has restraint. And fear.

He wants to know more, wants to learn more about the anonymous girl in the opposite building. He doesn’t even know your name, and he assumes you don’t know his, and he’s not entirely sure what number apartment you live in.

He considers asking to convert your conversation from post-it notes on windows to hand-written letters, but that reminds Spencer too much of Maeve and he can’t handle that.

Do you know how difficult it is for Spencer Reid, with all his knowledge and facts and ramblings, to limit himself and how much he says?

It’s torture.

The sun is blinding when Spencer pulls his curtain back, eyes navigating to see if there’s a new message waiting.

I haven’t asked, do you have any cats? Any pets? Mr Darcy would be a terrible boyfriend but Sally could use a lover :)

Before he can stop himself, his mind is whirring with the possible implications of your message. Does this mean you want to meet? You want to know about him as much as he wants to know about you? You’re interested?

He needs to call Penelope. He wants to talk to you so badly, learn everything there is to know, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The situation reminds him of Maeve and, although it’s been so long, he’s still mourning. He’s not sure he’s ready.

Turns out he doesn’t need to worry. You’ve got your own plan.

+++

“So,” Your friend sighs, flopping onto the couch, “You got his number? His name? Anything?”

“No,” You pout, “Not even sure he’s a guy.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

You playfully gasp. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I am insulted.”

She chuckles. She knows all about your curious neighbour - she’s the one that encouraged you to reply and keep replying. And now she’s the one trying to convince you to form an actual friendship.

“Just put your number on your window.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is?!” You scold, “Anyone could see it!”

“Yeah, but neighbour guy could see it. And text you. And be really cute.”

You can’t help but glance behind you, into your bedroom window, where the infamous window is. Mr Darcy lounges, completely zonked out with the sunshine keeping him warm.

“What’s the worst that can happen? Some random people text you and you, what, block them? That’s it. Easy.”

Life is so easy for extroverts, you think.

You grab your notebook, rip a piece out and jot down your number before you have a change of heart. You’re essentially double messaging through the medium of your window messaging. But who cares?

What have you got to lose?

+++

Spencer stares at your phone number for way too long. Mr Darcy, as if sensing Spencer’s battle, lazily lifts a paw and rests it against the paper, pushing it into the window.

Spencer dials Penelope’s number straight from memory.

“I was beginning to think you’d died, Spencer-“

“Is it a terrible idea to start texting with Mr Darcy’s owner?”

“What?!” She exclaims, “No! No no no no no! That is an incredible idea! Spencer, please tell me you’re texting her!”

Penelope’s excitement gives him a rush of confidence. She’s always so supportive, so encouraging. Penelope is the best.

“I’m staring at her phone number. I just- we know what happened last time..” He trails off, voice meek. He wants to pretend he isn’t constantly thinking about the worst outcome, but he is. He’s scared.

Penelope’s voice is soft down the phone, “Spence. You have nothing to be afraid of, okay? I’m so proud of you for even considering texting her. But if you truly think you’re not ready, maybe you’re not. But remember, this doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to. You can keep the conversation to cats and cats only.”

Spencer smiles even though she can’t see him. She’s right. It doesn’t have to be anything and, honestly, it’s likely it won’t be anything – after all, Spencer isn’t exactly confident when it comes to women.

She might also have a boyfriend. A husband. A wife. He doesn’t know.

He realises he’s started thinking way too deep about someone he doesn’t even know the name of.

“Does that silence mean you’re gonna text her?” Penelope questions, suspense and hope clear in her voice.

“Yeah,” He replies, glancing at Mr Darcy, “I am.”

+++

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: Hello. I’m Spencer.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner] hello??????? do i know a spencer?

Embarrassment flushes through him. What a weird way to introduce yourself, he chastises himself, Great first impression.

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s owner]: Sorry. I’m the one that’s been asking about your cats through the window.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: really? prove it

He wants to feel insulted that you’re so suspicious, but is simultaneously impressed that you’re so cautious. It makes sense to worry after posting your number for anyone to see.

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: Of course. I’ll put a note on my window with my number now.

He does just that, shuffling quickly and frantically like he does when his mind is moving a thousand miles a minute during a case. He slaps the note against the window, unable to resist hovering on the off chance he spots you.

His phone buzzes.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: oh hi spencer! im Y/N, owner of Mr Darcy and sally :)

He can’t help but chuckle at the sudden change of tone. You take stranger danger seriously, it seems.

Why does he find that so endearing?

He’s getting ahead of himself, again. Calm and cool.

They pick up the conversation from where the last note left off, where you asked Spencer if he has any pets of his own. He finds it much easier to talk to you like this, rambling and all, which you don’t seem to mind. Your texting style is distinctively different to his, making his phone vibrate multiple times as you send each sentence of your message separately. He prefers writing chunks full of information, all with perfect grammar and punctuation.

You teach him what ‘wtf’ means and when he sends a meme to Penelope with that caption she loses her damn mind.

She decides she loves you there and then.

A friendship blossoms. It’s odd, he doesn’t know what you look like and you admit to catching a glimpse of him when he showed you his number through the window, but other than that you have no idea what the other looks like.

You know so much about eachother’s lives, though, and so much about eachother. You know which apartment you both live in, he’s got a whole list of reasons why Mr Darcy is a dick and he kind of agrees, you even know that he’s an FBI agent.

Then it happens.

He discovers what you look like.

He wants to play it off as an accident, he really does, but that would be a complete and utter lie.

The area under the window opposite yours has become his new sanctuary. He spends way too much time there, reading and whatnot, and he tries to pretend that it’s so he can watch Mr Darcy all day every day, but there’s always been a part of him that wants you to walk by. Maybe stop right in the centre of the window, pause, let him get a good look.

That’s exactly what happens.

He’s doing some “light” reading before he moves to his bed, where he will continue to read, and he sees the main light in your bedroom switch on. You always have a light on – you’re scared of the dark, just like him, but the main light catches his attention because Mr Darcy looks back and meows.

Someone’s in the room.

For some reason, he can’t tear his eyes away. It’s not the first time he’s noticed someone flutter around the room, never managing to really show themselves. It could the best friend you told Spencer about, the one that you’ve been stuck living with the past month or so.

But it’s not.

A girl appears, wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts with still-wet hair. She dangles a cat toy before Mr Darcy, which he swipes at twice, then looks away, uninterested.

She rolls her eyes at that, then starts dancing and mouthing along to a song Spencer doesn’t recognise. Now he can’t stop staring – she’s captivating, whoever she is, as she prances around her room, arms flailing around and serenading a very unimpressed Mr Darcy.

This has to be you, he thinks. He doesn’t know why, but this has to be you.

Your passionate singing dies out. It’s the end of the song. Before the next one can begin, you happen to look up and through the window, straight at Spencer.

And you disappear.

You collapse. You definitely scream a little, dramatically falling to the floor and hiding under the window with your back to the wall.

Holy shit. You think. He’s cute and he saw me singing to my asshole cat.

He must think I’m crazy.

Spencer keeps staring at the now empty space of your window, Mr Darcy having been spooked by your exit.

He thinks he might be in love.

+++

Neither of you know what to say to one another after what transpired.

You’re too embarrassed, Spencer feels a little star-struck, and you’re both speechless.

Neither of you expected the other to be so.. attractive.

Your phone is thrown in your lap. “Do it. Do it now.”

In a daze, you blink up at your friend, “I can’t.”

“Don’t make me threaten you.”

You blink.

“I know where he lives. I will obliterate the lockdown rules to go talk to him and drag him here, then you can deal with this face-to-face.”

Your mouth falls open. “Are you insane?”

She unlocks your phone, opens your conversation with Spencer, and places it in your hand.

“Yes.”

+++

[From: Y/N :)]: did you at least enjoy the performance…..

Spencer’s whole body prickles when he sees you’ve texted him.

Maybe Penelope’s manifesting did work.

[To: Y/N :)]: I did. I didn’t expect our face reveals to be so…

I honestly don’t know what to say.

[From: Y/N :)]: s doctor reid speechless? am i that talented?

Spencer lies back on his couch, beaming at his phone like a teenager in a cheesy chick flick.

[To: Y/N :)]: You’re very talented. Mr Darcy clearly disagrees, but don’t listen to him.

And just like that, you’re back in the flow of things.

+++

When July rolls around, you and Spencer have been talking every day since March. Despite the monotonous, repetitive days, Spencer wakes up giddy when he sees you’ve texted him. He usually wakes up earlier than you, you have a habit of playing games or watching television until the early hours of the morning, and he loves to send you a fact to wake up to.

Your favourite are the animal facts. He got Amazon Prime just so he could buy a plethora of animal books and watch animal documentaries. All for you.

At one point, you evolved to phone calls. They don’t happen often and the first one was while you were drunk, but they’re fun for the both of you.

It had been a Saturday, you and your friend were having a movie marathon with wine and of course she brought up Spencer. She choked on her drink when you told her you haven’t heard his voice or seen him since the incident.

“You should call him,” She slurred, “Tonight.”

“He’s working on his jigsaw. I’m not going to interrupt.”

She gave you this incredulous look, asking Really?

“What?! I have respect for him and his jigsaws!”

“Have respect for yourself and how cute he is!”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

She sighed, placing her glass on the coffee table with a clunk, “Picture this: you’re helping him with the jigsaw.”

You couldn’t hide the slight upturn of your lips at the thought. You both love jigsaws, doing one with him would be stupidly romantic to you.

“Yeah.” She nodded ridiculously, “That ain’t gonna happen if you don’t call him!”

In your drunken state, you realised she’s right. You called him that night for a total of ten minutes before you passed out after calling him super handsome.

You both went to sleep feeling warm inside. Spencer called you again the next day, where the call lasted nearly two hours, and it went from there.

But now the lockdown rules are being eased. People are going back to work, meaning establishments like restaurants and hairdressers are opening up with limited capacity, all breathing beings expected to wear a mask.

Neither of you have mentioned actually meeting one another. You’re too nervous. What if he doesn’t like you? What if the image he’s created of you in his head is way better than you are in real life and he’s disappointed? What if he doesn’t want to meet you?

Spencer worries about the exact same things.

So neither of you say anything.

+++

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes Spencer’s mail gets sent to the wrong address. Perhaps to his neighbour, the person living across the hall, or someone on a completely different floor.

Twice, Spencer’s mail has been delivered to the apartment building next door. The building he now exclusively calls “Y/N’s building”.

Now it’s three times.

Unphased by the mask on his face, Spencer glances around the lobby of your apartment building and wonders what your routine is when you get home. Do you immediately check for packages? Look at the noticeboard? Or do you go straight up to your apartment?

Spencer walks to the reception desk, smiling politely even though the person can’t see it.

“Hi, I’m from the building next door. I think my mail was accidentally sent here?”

He clicks a few buttons, types a few things, then flippantly asks, “Apartment number?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Let me go get it.”

He takes his time leaving his chair and wandering through a door. Spencer glances around. There’s a few people, all wearing masks (Thank God), doing their own thing.

There’s two girls next to him. He eavesdrops, because he’s bored.

“I’m too used to living with you now,” The girl facing him pouts, “I don’t want to go.”

The girl with her back to him laughs, light and sweet, “You live a block away.”

“You know Sally is gonna miss me.”

Sally? As in…

“She’s gonna miss you only because you feed her too much and now she’s fat.”

Wait.

“C’mon, Y/N-“

Spencer blocks out the rest cause holy hell. You’re right there. You’re standing right next to Spencer, in all your glory, and you have no idea that he’s right there, too.

Should he say something? Should he introduce himself? Should he..

“Here, sir. My apologies for the mix-up.” The receptionist re-appears, handing Spencer his mail.

“Thank you.”

And Spencer leaves.

Except he doesn’t.

He stops outside the reception entrance, takes out his phone, and texts you.

[To: Y/N :)] This is weird but I’m right outside your building. I think you’re in the foyer and I’m too scared to approach you.

Two minutes pass before the building doors fly open.

Your head swivels back and forth. When you find Spencer, adorable and awkward Spencer, he can tell you’re grinning from the way your eyes bunch up under your mask. God, he knows you have the most beautiful smile. Everything about you is beautiful.

“Hi,” You breathe.

Spencer mouths a silent hi. You’ve taken his breath away.

“I-um. It’s good to see you in person.” Your voice is soft. It’s soft, and smooth, and so much prettier in real life. It’s already pretty through the phone, but the real version shoots straight to his heart.

He gulps, “Yeah, it’s.. Unexpected, but nice.” The corners of his mouth quirk up and he can’t tear his eyes away from you, “You’re even more gorgeous in real life.”

The compliment rolls off his tongue naturally because it’s true and from the second he spotted you he’s lost all logical thinking.

“I am?” You ask, gentle and hesitant, almost asking are you sure you mean me?

Spencer blushes, somewhat embarrassed by his confession. But he meant it, Spencer’s not the type to say things he doesn’t mean, and you don’t give him time to regret it-

“Would you like to get some coffee? If you’re free now?”

Would it be too much if he screams Yes?

“Yes. I’m free,” He ignores the mail in his hands, stuffing it in his satchel, “But let’s avoid Café Nero, I assume you still haven’t recovered from the nightmare latte you had there.”

You grin, which makes Spencer feel fuzzy, flattered that he remembers anecdotes from your texts.

Of course he remembers. You remember he has an eidetic memory.

You shyly brush your hair behind your ears, both sides, and Spencer spots the bright red of them. You’re flushed, just like him, and it fills him with confidence to know you’re the same mixture of excited and anxious about meeting him in person.

“W-what about your friend?” Spencer gestures vaguely to where he assumes she’d be, “Would she mind?”

“She’s the reason I ran out here, so… I think she’d be mad if we didn’t leave her behind.”

You smile at one another, a few feet apart. Spencer’s bumped into by the opening door of your apartment complex and stumbles, apologising profusely to the unimpressed woman that just stares at him.

Through the entire ordeal you watch Spencer, only him, and can’t stop the radiant, love-filled look on your face.

Maybe Mr Darcy isn’t such a dick when he’s the reason Spencer came into your life.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #mine #oh to be spencer reid's neighbour that he falls completely in love with during the lockdown

1K notes · View notes

house-of-galathynius · 3 years

Text

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

I would also like to apologise for how long it has been since I have updated this! I have been busy moving and also been having a bit of a bad time mentally and lost a lot of motivation to write. But I’m hopefully back and will be updating more frequently from now on!! Thank you for all being so patient and I’m sending lots of love to everyone who is still reading <3

@jesstargaryenqueen @sailorsassley @sjmships @tomtenadia @endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @fredweasleyhasadhd @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu @swankii-art-teacher @superspiritfestival @becarefuloflove @tanvee1231 @viajandosinalas

Chapter Seventeen ~ Heavenly

Chapter Sixteen ~ Chapter Eighteen

Aelin scrambled off of Rowan, practically diving to the floor to retrieve her clothes that had been thrown there. Rowan did the same, fumbling to the side of the bed to pull on his pants.

Her heart was beating a million miles an hour as she hurried to dress and place herself on a chair near the window. Rowan strode to the desk and sat himself back where he had been and finally answered.

“Come in.”

A young male hesitantly stepped into the room, Aelin grimaced as she realised what it must smell like in here. Not only that, but the scent that her and Rowan must be giving off.

“A letter arrived for you from Doranelle.” He moved across the floor to hand Rowan the letter. Quickly retreating back to the door to bow and hastily exiting the room.

Aelin let out a sigh and readjusted her blouse, straightening it up slightly and pulling her tangled hair over a shoulder.

Neither of them said anything, Rowan silently reading the letter.

Aelin didn’t know what to say to him. What had happened was unexpected, after the conversations she had had with Rowan about this exact thing… she shook her head slightly.

Aelin had lost control and Rowan wasn’t able to help himself either. The fact that they had managed that long without getting that far was a surprise in itself, Lysandra had said as much a couple of weeks prior. Exclaiming to Aelin that most newly mated pairs would hide themselves away for weeks, even months, to get the rawness of the mating out of their systems. Aelin had to then explain that it wasn’t that neither of them didn’t want to go there… but that there were rules and etiquette in the royal family, and they couldn’t be ignored because of a mating bond. Although when had that ever stopped her?

Aelin was brought out of her thoughts when Rowan cleared his throat and stood from the chair.

She hesitated slightly before speaking. “Is… is everything okay?”

Rowan nodded. He held the letter in his hands, his face furrowed slightly.

“It seems there has been some unrest in Doranelle, a few groups who had supported Maeve are causing trouble.”

Aelin nodded. “Do you need to go back?” She stood from her chair, stepping towards him. “I’m sure we can postpone everything.”

Rowan shook his head this time. “I’ll have some of the others go to check. I’m needed here.”

He made towards the door, Aelin grasping his hand before he could walk away completely. “I’m sorry… I know you wanted to wait until we had made everything official.”

Rowan shook his head slightly. “Can I be honest?”

Aelin let her grip on his wrist fall and nodded once.

“Your father and Orlon asked me not to let things go too far.”

Aelin was the one to shake her head this time. She stood there speechless for a moment before returning her gaze to Rowan.

“Did they say why?”

Rowan shrugged. “They were just concerned about the image of the royal family.”

“The image?” She blew out a breath. “They’re— we are mates!”

“I know. But I wasn’t about to argue with the king and your father.”

Aelin huffed. “It’s stupid.”

Rowan pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her and placing a kiss on her head. “I know, Fireheart.”

“We’re okay?” She murmured into his chest.

“Of course.” Rowan let her go and stepped back into the hallway. “Don’t forget dinner this evening.”

She smiled lightly at him and nodded as he strode away.

Aelin loitered in his room a moment longer, collecting herself before she headed down to the library. It didn’t give quite the same comfort as what being at Sam’s had given, but it would do. She breathed deeply, taking in the smell of the old dusty books that lined the shelves. A fire crackled away in the background and a warmth spread through her.

It felt like an age since she had been in here properly. When she had been with Sam she had not needed to come in here, nor had she wanted to… the librarians were still unsure of her after the accident in the Library of Orynth. Despite her many apologies and gifts of rare books from the continent, they had shunned her and made a point of not wanting her here. Although, in their defence, they had eased up in the last couple of years.

Aelin found a corner, close to the fire but hidden from anyone entering the library. She had piled some books into her arms as she had walked through the towering shelves and snuggled down into a leather armchair. She didn’t immediately reach for the books, instead she let her head fall back against the chair and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the librarians shuffling around, the crackling fire and the low howl of the wind from outside.

Her mind wandered a little. It was a little jarring how much had happened already today… first Lysandra, then Sam and then what had happened with her and Rowan.

She didn’t regret it. In fact, she felt relieved that he had wanted her as much as she wanted him. But she knew that he would be kicking himself for letting things go as far as they had, especially as it had been the middle of the day, in a bustling castle where she had no doubt people would be able to hear or scent what was going on. Still, she felt oddly relaxed… and excited. In one week she would be alone with him for real, and there would be no one to interrupt them.

But as her mind thought of her aline time with Rowan, she started to think of Lysandra and the position she was now in. Things had been so hectic that Aelin hadn’t thought of what the future would now look like. If things went well, Lysandra could very well be engaged to Aedion, they would likely move into one of the private houses nearby and raise their family. Aelin didn’t want to think of what could happen if things didn’t go well.

And then in one week she would be officially mated to Rowan. In less than three months she would be married.

Aelin was surprised by the shiver of anticipation that ran through her at the thought of being a wife. She had of course known that one day she would be married… but to be married to her mate, her soul-bonded— it brought a whole new element to it. And to know that he would be by her side through whatever difficulties came their way— it comforted her in a way she could not explain.

Aelin must have dosed off as she woke to someone lightly tapping her shoulder. Aelin blinked, adjusting to the light.

Orla, one of her ladies in waiting was loitering in front of her.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but Prince Whitethorn asked us to help you get ready for dinner. The time is fast approaching.”

Aelin sat up in the chair, unfurling her legs and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She glanced to the window on the other side of the library and noticed the darkened sky. She had been asleep for much longer than she thought.

She stood from the chair, feeling guilty that she would have to leave the books for the librarians to clear away. She mentally reminded herself to return tomorrow with baked goods for them.

Aelin followed Orla through the palace, winding up the stairs and into her rooms. Several others waited for her and they immediately pulled her down into a chair, brushing through her tangled hair. She didn’t protest when they dabbed some red onto her cheeks and some tint to her lips. She silently dressed in a velvet gown of deep blue, her sleeve ends rounded with gold. The dress was beautiful and one she had not seen in her wardrobe before. She mentioned it to the girls helping her.

“Prince Whitethorn had it delivered from the seamstress in the city.”

Aelin smiled to herself. Rowan was full of surprises it seemed.

She stared in the mirror, smoothing the dress and admiring the way she looked. She supposed she should get used to dressing up more— with a mating ceremony, a wedding, and not too long away a coronation, her coronation.

Orla came to stand beside her, smiling at Aelin. “Beautiful as always.”

Aelin nudged her. “I could never look this nice without you.”

They both turned when the door clicked opened and Rowan strode in. Aelin felt her stomach do a flip as she took him in.

Dressed in white shirt and black pants, his jacket matching the colour of her dress, he looked… princely. Which was a good thing she supposed, as he was in fact a prince. It took her a moment to regain her thoughts. She had only seen him dressed like this when they had first met, his usual attire being lose tunics and grey pants— clothes for comfort.

“Are you ready?” He was smiling at her as he spoke. The way he was looking at her set her alight— his easy smile and wandering eyes that were taking her in. She felt beautiful.

Aelin stepped forward and linked her arm through his own. She turned to smile at the girls behind her, who were grinning from ear to ear as they waved her and Rowan away.

The hallways were silent as they meandered through them. The only sounds coming from their footsteps and the howling wind outside. Aelin would always be grateful for her fire during the winter months, never having to go cold was a blessing.

Rowan did not speak as they made their way to what was normally the morning room. Rowan slipped his arm out of her own, his hand squeezing hers as he stepped to the doors.

“Lysandra warned me you might laugh… but I’m asking you to reserve any snarky comments until later.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “I promise not to laugh.”

Rowan gave her a hesitant smile back, but opened the doors.

Aelin could have cried— either from the overflowing amount of love she felt for Rowan in that moment, or utter bewilderment.

The room which was usually plain and frankly, rather boring, had been transformed. The long dining table that took up most of the room had been replaced with a circular one, covered in a light linen cloth. Atop the table were candles and a bottle of what looked like a fine Terrasen wine. It didn’t end there; candles were dotted around the room too, flickering lightly, whilst vases of winter flowers bloomed on the end tables.

Aelin turned to Rowan. He stood behind her, his cheeks slightly reddened, but his eyes on her. She shook her head slightly, going back once more to gaze at the scene before her. Never in her years had she had a partner do something like this— not even Sam.

“Do you like it?” Rowan rested his hand on the small of her back and led her further into the room. He pulled her chair out and guided her down.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I recall promising you dinner in the city. But with the weather and everything with Lysandra… I thought staying here was easier for now.”

He took the bottle of wine and poured her a glass.

“I know it isn’t much—“

“It’s perfect. You don’t need to explain yourself, this is utterly perfect.”

A couple of the fae that worked in the kitchens scurried into the room and placed a plate of what Aelin only hoped were the traditional Terrasen delicacy. Small pastries filled with herbed meat and potatoes, drizzled with a heavenly sauce.

Aelin thanked them before they ran off again.

“I don’t know if I mentioned how beautiful you look?”

“I think it may have slipped your mind.” She laughed and took a sip of the wine, letting the alcohol warm her. Rowan followed suit and they sipped in comfortable silence for a moment.

Aelin set her glass back on the table and admired the room once more. Noticing new details as she did; like the chess set positioned between two armchairs, a bottle of whisky placed just behind it.

She turned to Rowan. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Rowan chuckled lightly following her gaze to the whisky and shook his head. “I just asked Lysandra if she would give some suggestions. She said it was your favourite whisky to drink.”

Aelin gave a hum in response. “I think I’m going to go see Lysandra tomorrow. I’ve got a couple of meetings with various people and then my mother wants to have lunch to discuss wedding preparations.”

“I should probably see Sellene tomorrow. She’s been asking after me and I’ve been putting it off. I should also check that everything in Doranelle is fine… the message from Fenrys this morning was worrying.”

Aelin saw his shoulders sag, his brow furrowed as he thought.

“If you need to go back, we can arrange something.”

He shook his head. “I have some… friends, I suppose, who I can call on if things get worse. I need to be here.”

Aelin studied him a moment before responding. “Doranelle is still your home, I won’t make you stay here.”

Rowan took a long sip of his wine, twirling the dark liquid in his glass a couple of times before he swallowed. “I don’t miss Doranelle if that is what you’re thinking. I simply do not need to be there right now.” Another sip.

Aelin narrowed her eyes. “There’s something else. What is it?”

Rowan narrowed his eyes right back at her, earning a smile from Aelin.

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

She placed a hand over her heart as she spoke. “I promise I won’t laugh at you.”

“I can’t leave you. I don’t want to leave you. I’ve said it before, but the first months or years of mating are the hardest and being apart, even just for a day…”

As he spoke she felt the bond unfurl and spread over her, then the tug of that the line between them.

Before Aelin responded, the doors open and the palace staff came in carrying trays of food. They placed them on the table and Aelin listened as they explained what they had brought out. It all sounded mouth-wateringly good, and she thanked the Gods that Orlon loved good food, only employing the best cooks on the continent. She had only ever tasted something better when she had been visiting the Southern Continent, where the food had tasted divine and she left with the desire to return as soon as possible for more. Although many years had passed since she had been there— a trip was overdue.

Still, she dug into the food that had been laid out in front of her. Rowan followed suit; piling roasted vegetables lathered in butter, roasted chicken which was seasoned to perfection, then soft, fluffy potatoes and a thick flavoursome sauce that Aelin poured generously over everything.

Rowan seemed to do the same and the two of them filled their mouths, the only sounds came form the clinking of their cutlery on the china plates and the occasional moan of delight from Aelin.

She had practically licked her plate clean, Rowan laughing at her as she attempted to get every last drop of gravy from the plate.

“If you want more, I’m sure they can bring some up.”

“I want to save room for dessert, but this is so delicious.”

Rowan laughed again, reaching for her plate and stacking it onto his own.

“It’s not very princess like.”

She huffed, but sat up further on the chair and took the napkin to wipe her mouth., whilst also giving her dress a once over to ensure she had not spilt anything on it. Pleased that she had avoided ruining another dress, she placed her napkin down and took a sip of wine.

“What was the occasion for this? I’m not complaining, it’s really wonderful to spend time with you like this… but I’m just curious.”

Rowan shifted in his seat and reached to the inner pocket of his jacket.

Aelin sucked in a breath as he placed a small octagonal box in front of her.

“I know we’ve been doing things a bit backwards.” He stood from his seat and rounded the table to stand in front of Aelin.

“Rowan…”

He knelt down on one knee, one of his hands grasping her own and the other reaching for the box that he had placed in front of her.

“I wasn’t sure how to do this properly. Fae traditions are different from human ones; but I had some help from—“

Aelin interrupted. “Can you please open the box? I am dying to see it.”

Rowan beamed up at her, but did as she asked. He slowly flicked the lid of the box open to reveal a stunning gold ring. The band was intricately engraved with little lines and swirls, all leading to the middle where a raw emerald rested in the centre, encircled by another thin ribbon of gold.

Aelin thought she might cry at the sight of it. At the sight of Rowan on his knee in front of her, presenting her with a ring. She was taken aback.

“The band was my mothers. When I left… after that evening with Sam, I went back to Doranelle and found it amongst my mothers things that she had left for me. I took it to a goldsmith in Orynth to get it fixed, and I added the emerald— Terrasen green.”

“It’s where you went today?”

He nodded. He was still on his knee, still holding the little box open to her.

“Are you going to ask me?”

Rowan looked confused for a moment before he realised what she meant.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, will you do me the greatest honour, and marry me?”

She felt her heart burst at the words, at the promise of their future. She nodded once, and then again and then she slid off her chair, now knee to knee with Rowan.

“Of course I will marry you.” She barely got the words out before she was grabbing his face and placing her lips to his own. “I love you.” Another kiss.

He murmured his love back to her before he pulled away and held her left hand in his. He gently removed the ring from it’s resting place and grinned at her as he carefully slipped the ring onto her finger.

It was heavier than she anticipated, but it was beautiful. She stared at it for a moment, smiling.

“So this was the occasion.”

She admired the ring for a few seconds more before the two of them relocated to the armchairs in the corner of the room. Rowan poured them both a glass of whisky and Aelin savoured the taste as she sipped on the dark smokey liquid.

“In all honesty, I had not thought about doing this. Like I mentioned, Fae traditions are different and most couples will never marry in the human sense. And mates will usually just have a ceremony for the mating. Many feel that marriage feels insignificant in comparison to the bond.” He gazed down at her hand, which she had purposely rested on the arm of the chair, showing off the ring.

“I thought you said you had been married?”

Rowan thought for a moment. “In a sense, yes. But it wasn’t quite as official as what humans do.”

She was silent a moment. “We’re technically already engaged, you didn’t need to do all this.”

He sighed quietly. “I didn’t think it was important either. But Lysandra gave me a lecture about how it was important you knew I wanted to marry you and that I should honour the human side of you by proposing properly— even if we were already engaged.”

Aelin huffed a laugh. “Typical Lysandra.”

“She was right. There’s something quite satisfying seeing that ring on your finger.” He grinned at her.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “You Fae males are insufferable.”

“But unfortunately you’re stuck with us.”

85 notes · View notes

itevilhag · 3 years

Text

And In The End...

CREDITS TO THE OWNER OF THIS GIF.

Spencer Reid x POC!reader [I’m asian so...]

summary: for the first time in years after that tragic event that took your life and almost destroyed him, Spencer gets to see you again, and as happy he is to see and know you’re here he did wish it was under better circumstances, not when he is on the brink of death. Spencer goes on a journey with the reader on chosing whether he wants to stay or not.

a/n: this is btw a recreation of the scene with Maeve on season 15, so most of the dialouge included here are taken from there but there are a decent amount that is written by me please don’t hate me it still took me a long time to finish this. Also this is my first S.Reid fic so....

word count: 3.4k!

warnings: SPOILERS! SEASON 15 EP. 10

“Y/N,” Spencer called, his face contorting out of both confusion, happiness, and surprise as he saw your figure quietly sitting on his couch with your back faced towards him as if you were waiting for someone. For the first time in years after that tragic event that took your life and almost destroyed him he gets to see you again, and as happy he is to see and know you’re here he did wish it was under better circumstances, not when he is on the brink of death. Slowly walking past his body lying on the floor he approached you with a small playing on his lips which only grew wider when you finally turned around.

You had a smile of your own, the smile that had been etched in his brain for years, the smile that kept him going through tough times, your smile. Now standing in front of you, he took in your appearance, though nothing much had changed he still tried to carve everything single inch of your face on his brain. He took note of the way your skin glowed under the sunlight that was cascading down the window, the natural tint of pink that graced your soft cheek, the soft curve of your lips he longed to kiss, you were still the same woman he fell in love with years ago.

Before you even got a chance to open your mouth to greet him, he had already engulfed you in his arms, burying his head deeper into your neck as he clung to you for dear life.

“Well, hello to you too, Spence,” you hugged him back chuckling at his reaction, a smile plastered on your lips. You held him in your arms as tightly as you possibly can as the two of you rock back and forth in each others embrace.

“Y/N, It’s you. It’s really you,” he sniffled onto your shoulder, his voice muffled.

He finally pulled back from the embrace, letting his hands fall to his side, he was smiling so hard he feels that his cheeks might break “God, I miss you, so much. What are you doing here? How are you here- you’re dead,” he asked, and you can see the confusion in his eyes.

You met his brown eyes, and that’s when you got a good view of his face. His hair was longer, framing his perfectly handsome face perfectly, the shadows under his eyes were more prominent, he even grew a light stubble which you did find utterly sexy, but you have no time for that, he has no time for that.

“I missed you too, Spence, and yes, I am.” you laughed lightly at his remark “So, does that mean that I’m-” a wave of surprise and puzzlement immediately graced his features but you cut him off.

“No, no you’re not dead- well not yet at least,” you answered, as you slowly looked behind him, your eyes landing on his unconscious body on the floor, and you could’ve sworn that you heard him release a sigh of relief, which put a small smile on your lips “You have an intracranial hemorrhage, which is-”

“A bleeding in the intracranial vault, including the brain parenchyma and surrounding meningeal spaces, the overall incidence of spontaneous ICH worldwide is 24.6 per 100,000 person-years with approximately 40,000 to 67,000 cases per year in the United States,” he stated, your brows shot up in surprise and your lips subtlely curled up into a smirk as he cut you off and started to ramble about the statistics behind his hemorrhage “Y/N, my brain is shutting down,” he said, as he looked down to you, his brows slightly furrowed fear enlaced within his voice. But, then it soon faltered once he mentioned brain shutting down.

“Well, yeah, Spence, parts of it are shutting down, it’s struggling to survive. But, you’re still here, aren’t you? This means you’re still fighting,” you smiled lightly, and tried your best to assure him. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and nodded, he shoved his hands in pockets and averted his eyes away from you as he tried to comprehend and understand. Tried to get a hold of the situation that he is in.

“And, it is nice to know that you still haven’t changed since I last saw you. With the rambling and spitting out facts, same ol’ Dr. Spencer Reid.” you chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the tension that had made itself very comfortable surrounding the two of you, and you didn’t fail to notice the surge of pink tint that had spread across his cheeks which is then followed by a sheepish smile on his lips. But you know that he still had questions that he wanted to be answered under that sweet smile that he had plastered on his face.

“Hey, why don’t you take a walk with me? So that we can clarify and talk out some things.” you offered, and stretched your hand towards him, he hesitated for a second and displayed a confused expression, but something in your eyes told him to trust you, so he gladly takes it. You smiled up at him, you led him to the doors of his apartment and the next thing you know is that you two were at the cemetery, standing side by side in front of your grave, with your arm wrapped around his. Looking at the headstone with you right now, made him feel uneasy and torn and it only made the raging fear inside him even worse.

So distracted himself with a question towards you, to temporarily bury that feeling of fear inside.

“So, how are you here? How did you get here? What are you doing here, in my brain?” he asked, turning to you, his brows raised a little to display his curiousness. The words tumbled out of his mouth faster than you can comprehend.

“Okay, hey, Woah, slow down Spence, easy with the questions,” you chuckled “For the ‘how?’, I don’t know- I don’t know how got there. I just opened my eyes and then all of a sudden I was in a random persons apartment, at first I was confused, but as soon as I saw that bookshelf and that desk with all the case files sprawled everywhere, I immediately knew where I was.” you hear a low chuckle rumbled out of his chest, which prompted a smile form you.

“And, as for the ‘what?’ just a small answer, I’m here to help you. ‘Help you make the ‘choice’.‘Cause, this journey will definitely take a toll on tempting you on which way to go.” you said, looking at him sideways.

“The ‘choice’ huh?” he murmurs, and you hummed before uttering out a simple “Yep.”

"Hey, Spence do you wanna know my deepest, darkest secret?”

Looking back at your grave, as the cold winds brush up against your bodies, something came up to Spencer’s mind as it drifted back to that dreadful night once again. There is something he hasn’t resolved yet, with you.

“Let me take her place.” Spencer offered, trying to be careful with his words.

Diane asked her voice rising with a gun pointed towards your temple and a hand looped around your neck.

“You would kill yourself for her?” she pressed the gun further towards your temple.

“Yes,” Spencer answered loud and clear. But Spencer wasn’t careful enough.

“No.” Diane retracted the gun from your temple to hers and pulled the trigger.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” he apologized, turning to face you, your brows knitted themselves together as you were a bit taken aback by Spencer’s sudden apology, his voice breaking with tears threatening to fall to his cheek.

“For what, Spence?” you asked in confusion, rubbing small circles on his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

“I let you die. And it’s my fault because I wasn’t smart enough or fast enough to save you.” he averted his eyes towards the grass beneath the two of you, trying to avoid your gaze as he continued to blame himself for your death, which only made your heartbreak even more.

“Hey, Spencer, stop it. It isn't your fault, there was nothing you could've done, and it's okay,” you squeezed his hands in comfort, which made his eyes turn their attention towards you, the side of your lips slightly turned upwards as his teary eyes made contact with your soft ones. An idea came up to your brain, a small smirk eased itself to your lips.

He gave you a curious look and nodded before he responded “Mhm-hmm.”

“I love nineties rom-drams and rom-coms.” you shyly admitted, which prompted and heartily laugh to emerge from the both of you, and hearing his laugh again made your heart soar.

“The cheesier the better,” you laughed "and my favorite was about this angel who gave up his immortality because he fell in love with a human. But they only had one day before she was killed,” you explained softly, Spencer chuckled humorlessly as he saw the connection, he averted his eyes away from you again but kept the smile that’s been with him this whole time.

“I always wondered why that one stuck with me, and then we lived it.” you smiled, you lifted your other hand and brushed it against his cheek and tucked a stray curl behind his ear “But hey, do you wanna know something else?” you asked.

“What is it?” he asked curiously, and you hear a slight eagerness in his voice.

“Transferring to the BAU was probably the best decision I’ve ever made in my entire life,” he only smiled, and his silence signaled you to continue “because it led me to meet the team, meet you. And you, Spencer Reid, Is the best thing to ever happen in my life, with you and your rants that would go on for hours, your ramblings, your facts- gosh even your magic tricks!” you laughed, and he chuckled at that.

“and what honor and privilege it was because I get to spend the rest of my days with, the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI and…with you, Spencer.” you can already feel the burning behind your eyes and the tears that were threatening to be spilled but you tried your best to push them back.

“So don’t you dare be sorry, okay? I have no regrets.” you smiled and he returned it and nodded “Okay.” he brought your hand up to his lips and planted a kiss on your knuckles, the gesture made your heart melt.

“Hey, I know I’ve already said it but, I really do miss you, very much.” he chuckled.

“I miss you too, Spence,” but the bliss soon faded away as someone’s voice- wait no, Diana’s voice called to him.

Spencer.

Both of you were alarmed at the sudden call, which made both of you physically jump slightly, his grip on your hand tightening, his frown made an appearance once again, he looked terrified, and he didn’t even bother to hide it, he wasn’t focused on keeping his micro expression at bay at the moment.

“Well, that’s a very subtle way of telling us that the clock’s ticking,” you commented, you look over to Spencer who was still pretty tense, so you squeezed his hand in attempts to ease him “But, hey, Spence, we still have a decent amount of time together.” you reminded him.

“I need that,” he said, a small smile tugging on his lips.

You carefully looked at Spencer, and then suddenly he became transparent, you saw something in his eyes, something that he’s been holding onto which made your brows furrow slightly.

“Spencer, you’ve been holding onto trauma, a lot of it. But let me remind you something, what sent you on this journey is something different, you’re at a crossroads, and you’ll be tempted along the way on which way to go,”

“Can you help me through it?” he asked a small smile peeking on his lips with hope in his eyes, you nodded smiling lightly.

“But first, I need to tell you something you don’t hear enough of,” you hold on to his hand tightly, hoping that he would understand, you smiled “the world is a good place, Spence, and it’s even better with you in it.” He smiled back, letting your words sink in.

“You ready?” you asked softly.

“Yeah,” he replied.

[[[[[[[[[[[[[ ]]]]]]]]]]]]]

You and Spencer now find yourselves standing hand in hand in front of SSA Gideon’s grave, who you knew was Spencer’s mentor and [sort of] a father figure. Even though you didn’t get the chance to meet him when you transferred, Spencer’s amount of respect towards him says it all, so when his death became apparent, Spencer was the one who was affected the most.

“Why are we here?” he asked you, but he still kept his attention towards Gideon’s headstone “I made peace with Gideon dying.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” you asked softly.

“12 years, 7 months, and 23 days ago,” he recited, his voice firm and steady.

“Oh,” you chuckled “you’re not keeping track of disappointments at all.” you teased, which earned you a smile from him.

“My dad wrote me a note when he left,” he started “Gideon did the same thing. He was the one that convinced me to join the team, and then he left.” he chuckled humorlessly. You on the other hand, absentmindedly squeezed his hand to let him know that you’re there for him, he smiled softly at that.

He sighed heavily, as if he was trying to keep his tears at bay, but based on how his voice started breaking earlier on, he probably was keeping in his tears “All to believe in happy endings, I just- I’m sad he never got one.” he lamented.

“Oh no, he got one,” you laughed as you corrected him, and by the way he looked at you he was left a bit confused “He is obsessed with this octopus named Mildred,” which prompted a genuine laugh from you and Spencer “She was a prankster! And he loves hanging out with an 8 limb mollusk trying to figure out how she became playful and wise.”

When the laughter had finally died, you look back at Spencer again, he had a small smile on his lips, and you know that wasn’t caused by you, and you weren’t hurt by that, you know that Spencer was just trying to understand and make peace with Gideon and his death, and that’s okay.

“She evolved,” he said.

“Yep, Spence. We all have to,” you replied, reciprocating his smile.

[[[[[[[[[[[[[ ]]]]]]]]]]]]]

After your short quiet walk on the cemetery as both of you enjoyed the cold breeze of autumn, you and Spencer found a bench under one of the trees and decided to take a break and just rest. You sat there beside him, with your head on his shoulder and his head leaning on yours, you both enjoyed the peace that the place even though it’s a literal cemetery. While your brain was calm, Spencer’s wasn’t.

Ever since he saw you at his apartment, he was already second-guessing everything. Just being with you right now already tempts him to stay, and he knows that it sounds selfish of him to do because he has friends and family, his mom, waiting for him to wake up, but what if there’s nothing left for him to do there? What if he can just stay here with you? But then at the same time he doesn’t wanna lose what is still there, what he already has, his family and friends, but losing them meant staying with you, and staying with them meant losing you. He was just pretty much torn with everything at this point, and he knows that he doesn’t have much time.

You look at Spencer, and you recognize that look on his face, the distant stare, the deep furrowed brows and you’ve seen it in a lot of people “What are you afraid of?” you asked, and you feel him slightly jump under your touch telling you that he was definitely in deep thought.

“What?” he asked, snapping out of his thoughts as he heard your voice.

“I asked, what are you afraid of? Spence, I’ve seen that look on people’s faces far too many times than I can count,” you chuckled softly “It doesn’t take a profiler- even though I am one to not know what it means.” you smiled lightly, wordlessly encouraging him to voice what is on his head.

“It’s just that, if I die, I’ll let down my mom, the team, and everybody who depends on me,” he answered truthfully, and you hummed slightly before responding.

“Well, family’s resilient, and as for strangers, people were hurt before you joined the BAU, and they’ll get hurt whenever you leave,” you stated.

He chuckled faintly before replying “Guess I’m stuck,”

“More like frozen, from grief,” you see his face fall slightly before he turned away and avoided your gaze “Your father’s physical absence, your mother’s psychological one, me.”

“It’s paralyzing,” his brows furrowed.

“And how do you move through it when you can’t move?” you asked softly.

He narrows his eyes and looks around for a second trying to think “You go back to the beginning,”

“I grew up telling stories about who I was,” he chuckled softly, you sat there smiling softly as you listened “A son, a friend, student, teacher, genius-”

“ A hero.” you finish for him “Spence, you seek and gain approval from anyone. It’s time to stop.” you insisted.

[[[[[[[[[[[[[ ]]]]]]]]]]]]]

“Y/N, what if my brain’s bleeding out because there’s nothing left for me to do,” he questions, his were furrowed slightly.

“Spence, the world needs you to do what you love, have you done that?” you asked him, he paused, trying to think “I don’t really know…” he responded.

“Sure you do! What do you love?” you asked as you smiled at him.

“I love magic, ghost stories,” he chuckled as he raked through his brain.

“Fiddling with your pen like me? Adding too much sugar in your coffee?” you laughed, which he returned “Go on, what else?” you said, nodding at him to continue.

“Jell-O, Kumquats, teaching, learning, books, hope...making connections, making- making a difference,” he paused to look at you, his eyes filled with sincerity and adoration as you smiled softly while you listened to him intently “you, I love you.”

“Well, that’s a lot to love, Spence. And you can still have years ahead of you, and you can still keep doing the things you love and the things that make you happy. I mean the world is a big place, you can still have places to visit, opportunities to seize, a lot of books to read...people to fall in love with. There is so much you still can do,” you smiled up at him, taking his hand into yours, your fingers interlocking with his own “but that is entirely up to you.”

“Look, there is no wrong answer or wrong choice in all of this, but you have to decide. You can stick around in the blue marble or travel out to the great unknown. It’s time, Spence, what are you gonna do?” he only smiled lightly, his mind finally made up, and stood up bring you with him.

“Dance with me,” he whispered as he brought you closer to him, your hand making its way up to his neck, and his settling down your waist. As you two swayed cheek to cheek, he asked.

“Do you remember our one, and only fight?” he smiled down your way.

“About the world’s greatest poet?” you smirked.

“We were on the phone for like- four hours,” he responded with a smile evident on his face as you laughed at the memory “Spence, you need to find that kind of passion with someone again…”

“But first I need to know if your favorite is still-”

“E.E Cummings,” you answered “‘Whenever you think, or you believe, or you know, you’re a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you’re nobody-but-yourself” you quoted, a small smile on your lips.

“‘To be nobody-but-yourself- In a world which is doing it’s best, night and day, to make you everybody else- means to fight, the hardest battle that any human being can fight; and never stop fighting” he quoted back, with the tears already falling on his cheeks, he pulled you fully in his arms, your hands came up to lightly scratch the back of his neck, he sniffled as he buried his head deeper on your neck, savoring the last moment he has with you before he goes.

“I love you, Spencer Reid. I’ll always love you,”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer x poc!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x y/n #spencer reid one shot #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader

46 notes · View notes

eyeofthedrgn · 3 years

Text

A Heavy Battle Symphony - Chapter 4

New chapter! This chapter is slightly fluffy, still angsty, but much less than previous chapters.

Catch up here: Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1685

Chapter 4 - Forgotten

A little piece of paper with a picture drawn

Floats on down the street 'til the wind is gone

And the memory now is like the picture was then

When the paper's crumpled up it can't be perfect again

It was Monday, and he was healed enough that Maeve let him go to school. After a normal morning routine, Lorcan made sure he wore a hoodie that would do a decent job covering his neck. Hood up, hands in his hoodie pocket, head down, he headed to school.

He missed a lot of schoolwork. It was going to be a late night. Luckily, most of the teachers gave him until the end of the week to turn it in.

When P.E. came around, he went straight to the gym rather than the locker room. He found his teacher and handed him his doctor's note. Mr. Brullo sent Lorcan to the library to study. Lorcan was happy about that. He was able to catch up on some of his homework.

Lorcan's handwriting, luckily, wasn't hindered by his cast. Perrington at least broke his right arm, his non-dominant arm. That he was thankful for, if he could be thankful for anything that happened to him.

He was getting a headache from his pre-calc homework. Lorcan rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.

"Lorcan?"

Lorcan grunted and slowly turned to see Elide, who looked relieved to see him. That was interesting. "Oh, uh, hi."

"Aren't you supposed to be in gym?" Lorcan lifted his casted arm. Elide's eyes widened and her lips parted. "Oh." She swallowed. Fuck, here comes the pity. "How-" she closed her mouth. "How'd that happen? We thought you were sick." Why were they concerned?

He told the same story Maeve told the doctor. Something about getting in a fight and falling down stairs, and "you should see the other guy". She didn't seem to believe him, neither did the doctor.

"Can I sit with you?" Lorcan shrugged. She sat down and then proceeded to talk to him about what he missed in creative writing. He didn't realize her voice was so soothing.

"Has anyone signed your cast yet?" She was eyeing the black cast. "I have a silver Sharpie!" She pulled it out of her bag and held it up with a smile.

Lorcan huffed a small laugh. Not being able to say no to that smile, knowing he was going to get in trouble, well, what could really do to him anyway? So, Lorcan carefully pushed up his hoodie sleeve. She smiled brightly at him. He propped his head up on his hand, eyes closed and listened to her hum as she put ink to the black cast.

++++

It was hard to keep from asking Lorcan questions. Elide saw the handprint bruise on his neck, the exhaustion lining his body, and of course, the full arm cast. She thought about how his injuries were formed. Obviously, someone put their hands on him, but who?

She didn't know who he lived with besides his aunt. It was doubtful that a woman had done this sort of damage, but one never knows for sure.

As she put pen to plaster, she kept looking up at his face between strokes of ink. He had drifted off to sleep. His face was slack, a slight snore every time he breathed out. Lorcan looked so innocent like that and dare she say, gorgeous.

Having finished her artwork, she just watched him until the bell rang. She gently brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, delicately tucking it behind his ear. He didn't stir.

Elide wished there was something she could do to get him away from his more than shitty situation. Calling the police was probably out of the question, but that was really the only thing she could think of.

The bell rang.

---

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he felt his textbook being pulled from under his elbow. "Oh, shit. Sorry," Lorcan furrowed his brow as he started cleaning up his stuff.

"You looked tired, I didn't want to wake you, but it is lunch time." Elide smiled, "and you have to look at your cast!" She seemed so excited about it.

Expecting some nonsense, he was pleasantly surprised to find a nice line drawing from his elbow to his wrist. It was a row of detailed trees with her name under it. Lorcan looked at it with awe. He looked back at Elide, "You did that?" Obviously, she did that. Don't be stupid, Lorcan, he thought to himself.

She giggled. He thought her laugh was adorable. "Obviously." Lorcan's cheeks flushed while he finished packing up before they walked together to lunch in a comfortable silence.

---

He followed Elide through the lunch line, the lunch lady gave him an extra serving. He was probably looking a little gaunt these days having barely eaten for the past week. Lorcan started towards the empty table in the corner.

Apparently, Elide wasn't having any of that as she pulled him to the group table before he could go be alone. Everyone seemed excited to see him. His name was shouted amongst several other greetings. Lorcan felt a tug in his chest as he looked around at the friendly faces. Why were they always trying to be nice to him? And then his eyes fell on the silver haired boy, he instantly forgot what he was thinking. He stared at the green eyed beauty a fraction longer than he should have as he sat down.

Elide introduced everyone. Aelin, Lysandra, Manon, Dorian, Chaol, Fenrys, Connall, Rowan - the silver haired boy - and then Vaughn, who was the last one to join the table.

He was sitting between Elide and Fenrys. Lorcan kept his head down while he ate, feeling very out of place. Everyone was chatting around him, over him, leaning around him. It was a lot. He wished he was alone at the table in the corner.

Rowan spoke up, "Can I sign your cast?" Lorcan jerked his head up. The sleeve of Lorcan's hoodie was still pushed up, he had forgotten to pull it back down which was unusual, but under the current circumstances, it made sense.

Lorcan's heart sped and he suddenly felt warmth spread up his neck. It drove him crazy how much his body reacted of its own accord around Rowan. He wished it would stop.

There was no reason to deny him when the punishment was coming now anyway since Elide's Sharpie touched the cast in the library, so he just shrugged and moved his arm towards the center of the table, towards Rowan.

"Elide, can I borrow your Sharpie?" She handed it over with a nod and went back to animatedly talking to the other girls about something.

Lorcan was careful not to press into the edge of the table, as he adjusted his arm. "I don't think mine will be as pretty as Elide's. Sorry in advance." Lorcan just shrugged a shoulder. He watched Rowan do his little doodle.

Then Rowan grabbed Lorcan's hand to carefully twist his arm to get to a different part of the cast easier causing electricity to shoot through his skin. His breath hitched. The soft fingers lingering on his skin, he never wanted the other boy's hand to move. Lorcan's eyes darted to Rowan's face to see if he noticed anything weird. All he saw was intense concentration, the way his tongue stuck out just a tad and his brows stitched together. Suddenly he was too warm, chest tight, heart pounding. Hellas below.

"There!" Rowan smiled at his silly nonsensical line doodle signed with his name. "All done." That smile did weird things to his stomach and the absence of those warm fingers made all the heat he had just been feeling disappear. A shiver ran down his spine.

Rowan capped the Sharpie and went to hand it back to Elide when Fenrys grabbed it.

"Can I?"

"Yeah." He was screwed anyway.

By the end of lunch, his cast was covered in names and doodles by his... Friends? They couldn't be friends, could they?

As he walked to his next class, he started panicking. His chest tightening for a whole other reason than being in close proximity to a certain boy. A tightness that was only reminiscent of growing anxiety. He shouldn't have let anyone sign it. What was he thinking?

Fuck.

++++

"Lorcan," Rowan breathed as he saw the dark haired boy basically being dragged by Elide to their table. Everyone perked up at that and welcomed him back.

Rowan saw his pained expression. Then, he saw the cast and the light purples, greens, and yellows on his neck that Lorcan was obviously trying to hide with the hood of his hoodie. It looked like a handprint. A fucking handprint. His gut roiled at the thought.

But then Lorcan looked at him, and oh boy, those eyes were going to be the end of him. They were an amazing onyx, almost like pools of night. His cheeks heated and he hoped no one noticed.

He finally got the courage to ask to sign his cast. And when Lorcan leaned over to get his arm closer to Rowan, he noted the stiffness and slight discomfort that flitted over his face. There was so much damage to Lorcan's body that they couldn't see. It made him unbearably sad thinking about it.

For the rest of lunch, while everyone signed Lorcan's cast, Rowan just sat there silently, observing the beautiful dark haired boy. He'd catch his eye every now and then give him a small smile, which was never returned. His eyes just quickly flitted away. Lorcan, he learned was very hard to read.

Rowan wished they could hang out, just the two of them. He wanted to get to know him and help him. And know what those lips felt like, tasted like. How it would feel to thread his fingers through his long dark hair that was usually in a messy bun. Or just to hold his hand. Fuck, he had it bad.

____

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

#rowcan fanfic #rowcan #rowan x lorcan #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #heavy battle symphony #crackship

14 notes · View notes

pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 3 years

Text

Some thoughts on Zugzwang

A/N: This ended up coming in at just under 1k words, which means I consider this a drabble and not a full fic! It won’t read like my usual writing, it’s all in present tense and contains almost no dialogue.

I wrote this as a part of my Galaxy Universe (MASTERLIST), it can also be read as a free-standing BAU!Reader x Platonic!Spencer drabble though!

WARNINGS: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 08x12, regular CM things

Tossing it under the cut because of the amount of spoilers in this thing

You weren’t at Spencer’s apartment when he woke up. He had fallen asleep reading the night before after you had gone home. He was on his way to meet you when he stops to call Maeve because he had promised you he’d reschedule his date with her, and after the dream he had he knows he needs to do it then. He calls you as soon as he gets the message, he wants you to be there when he’s meeting with Hotch.

From that moment on, you’re essentially full Spencer support at the beginning of the case/presenting to the team because Spence is part of the victimology. You do what you can for the team to make up for the loss of Spencer’s brain, while simultaneously making sure he is not completely losing it.

Hotch sends you to the loft with Morgan and JJ. He reasons that if Maeve is there you’ll be the best person for her to talk to and also the best person to tell Spencer he’s right if she isn’t there. You want to stay with Spencer but can’t argue with Hotch’s reasoning.

As soon as the sweep of the loft is done and it’s determined to be an active crime scene, Morgan calls Hotch and you call Spencer. You try to be delicate and also stay honest about the fact that Maeve is actually missing, but Spencer’s anger about learning that Maeve was engaged is messing with his emotions about the whole thing. You go with Spencer, Hotch, Morgan and Rossi to talk with Bobby Putnam.

You get a weird feeling when Diane opens the door, but can’t sort out the cause before Spencer recognizes Bobby from the restaurant and Hotch is pushing him out the door. When Hotch comes back in he asks you to wait in the hallway with Spencer, and doesn’t explain further. You are the one who suggests you wait outside, claiming the older building is giving you the “heebie jeebies”.

You were going to tell Diane to leave when she comes outside but Morgan beats you to it, something you’re a little salty about because you’re still taking responsibility for maintaining Spencer’s sanity. You stay quiet while Morgan has his little heart-to-heart with Spence, it’s a Moreid bro moment that you decide doesn’t need interference. If Morgan had been saying something stupid though, you would have stepped in.

You’re with Spence when he makes the connection that Diane is the unsub. It relieves you a little bit, knowing Spencer’s head was clear enough to make the connections as well as the concrete direction the team now had to finding out where Maeve was.

You aren’t surprised or offended when Spencer picks Blake to do his cognitive interview. Alex is the most emotionally removed from the team just because she’s the newest, you know you would be biased and too wrapped up in making sure Spencer is ok to be effective if he had chosen you.

You stay with the rest of the team, trying to work on solidifying the celebrity stalker theory. It’s during this time that Rossi suggests you take a break- even just to drink a cup of coffee. You aren’t really given a choice, and as you’re standing in the kitchenette sipping at the hot liquid you realize the amount of tension you’ve been carrying all day (and hiding from Spencer). It’s a welcomed reprieve from the chaos, and you feel much better and ready to work when Spencer and Blake come back with their breakthrough.

You’re sent with Blake and Morgan to check out the Junior College that Diane works at. You’re still not super happy to be separated from Spencer, but both Rossi and JJ separately reassure you that he’ll be ok with them and they’ll call you if anything happens. Nothing turns up at the college, so you head back to home base to find Spencer building a geoprofile.

You agree with Hotch that Spencer shouldn’t be part of the takedown on account of his possible death, but as soon as Spencer explains his reasoning why he wants to be there, you’re strapping on your vest and very sternly telling Spencer not to take his vest off under any circumstances.

“Spencer,” you stop him right before you get into the SUVs.

“Yeah?” he turns around quickly, frantically.

“I trust you on this, but you’re the only you we’ve got. You deserve to have good things, and you deserve to live. Tell me we’re making it out of this in one piece.”

Spencer looks you up and down, obviously noting your sincerity by the way his breathing changes and his eyebrows raise, “we’re making it out of this in one piece.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” you sigh, squaring your shoulders, “let’s go get your girl.”

(A/N round 2: This almost directly leads in to my fic Cosmos)

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights @niallthedancingharry @shadyladyperfection @thatsonezesty13 @lexshead @ceeellewrites @howdycharlie @girlycakepops @fantastic-fans @canimarrypizzaornah @daisyflower138 @dyingrexx @taylormobley @bazzleslynn @tj-drinks-tea @willa-wonky @eddiesbifocals @itsafreakingtouque @tee-mbrown @reniescarlett

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #platonic soulmates

37 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

In the Bleak Midwinter {7}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: Warning: this chapter says the word “cock” multiple times. Alright. Cool.

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

Links & masterlists:

Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me

The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Lysandra couldn’t sleep.

It had been nearly a week of them all staying at the estate, and it was going decently, she supposed. They all got along well enough, of course, but tensions were high. Lysandra didn’t sit in on most of the meetings between the Cadre, only the ones that Rowan asked her to sit in on and those were few and far between. She liked it that way, though. Without spending so much time with the Cadre, she was able to spend more time with Aelin.

She had been doing well - well enough, anyway, considering everything. She was pregnant and exhausted while dealing the death of a friend and continuously being worried about her husband getting shot.

Lysandra was grateful she was still standing.

But Aelin was tough, and stubborn, and would carry on until she was given a reason not to.

These were the thoughts that crossed Lysandra’s mind as she lied awake staring at the ceiling.

Those thoughts, and the thoughts of someone else.

It was nearing a ridiculous hour, that much she knew, but it didn’t stop her from rising up from her bed and dragging her bare feet across the floorboards toward the door.

Once she opened the door, she hesitated.

He was probably sleeping.

She’d probably be waking him up, ruining his good night sleep.

Oh well, her feet didn’t seem to care because she was crossing the hallway and quietly knocking on the door across from hers. The halls were silent. Everyone else had turned in, it seemed.

Hopefully, they were sleeping well.

Lysandra waited a minute, and just as she was about to give up, the door slowly crept open.

Aedion stood there, his chest bare, smoking a cigarette. He stilled as he saw her, then slowly relaxed, lifting his golden brows.

“Hey,” he said, quietly. “You okay?”

Lysandra hesitated, then nodded. “I couldn’t sleep. I was hoping for company, but if-.”

Her words trailed off as he stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. She did so, without questioning it.

“Couldn’t sleep, eh?” he asked, closing the door after she walked inside.

“Not at all,” she said, sitting on the side of his bed. “Every time I close my eyes I see too much.”

Aedion nodded, slowly. “Understandable, considering.”

“I thought I’d seen what the worse this world has to offer,” Lysandra began, “but, I just keep getting tossed with new situations and circumstances that I don’t understand.”

Aedion was quiet for a moment, then he slowly walked to his bed and sat down next to her. “I wish I had something to say that made everything better, but I don’t.”

She chuckled humorlessly at his honesty, then gently took his hand. “I know. I just didn’t want to be alone, I hope that’s okay.”

Aedion faced her with a creased brow. “Of course it is. I’m always here when you need me.”

“You weren’t sleeping?” she asked.

“It’s only...like...one in the morning,” he said, taking the cigarette from his mouth between his fingers.

Lysandra laughed, quietly. She thought of the night of the gala, when their bodies were tangled together on her couch, fully clothed, without a care in the world. She had felt so free, felt so loved, felt so appreciated. But it had been cut short.

She would do anything to feel like that again.

“Want a drink?” Aedion asked, after she said no more.

Lysandra shook her head. “No, thank you.”

He nodded, then took his hand from hers as he stood. He walked to the other side of the room and dropped his cigarette butt in an ashtray. “You can stay here, if you want to. If you need company, while you sleep, if you don’t want to be alone.”

Lysandra slowly met his gaze through her dark lashes. “And where will you sleep?”

“Next to you, of course,” he said, without missing a beat.

Lysandra watched him for a moment, watched as he crossed one sockless ankle over the other before she laid back on his bed. “Good.”

The space grew darker as he blew out the candle on the far side of the room then meandered to the bedside table, where he blew out that candle, too. Next thing she knew, the mattress was shifting as he laid down next to her. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Lysandra turned to face him and found him already looking at her, sleepily.

“Surely you can’t be comfortable sleeping in trousers,” Lysandra whispered.

Aedion chuckled. “I could say the same for your robe.”

“At least I’m in my nightgown,” Lysandra said, quietly. “Would you like for me to remove my robe?”

“Only if it makes you more comfortable,” Aedion said, his tone matching hers.

A second passed before Lysandra sat up, slipped off her robe so that she was in nothing but her pale blush nightgown, then laid back down, her head resting on top of a feathered pillow.

“Better?” Aedion whispered.

Lysandra said nothing as she reached out to take his hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“You’ve been giving me space,” she said, quietly.

“I thought you wanted space,” he said.

In truth, she didn’t know if she wanted space or not, all she knew was that she loved Aedion Ashryver. She scooted closer to him atop the blankets.

He reached out, brushed her hair back behind her ear. “I remember the first day I saw you, you know.”

“The very first day?” she asked.

“The very first day,” he confirmed.

“And when was that?”

Aedion took a moment to reply as he brushed his fingers down her arm. “We were young. Fifteen or so. I was with Aelin. She was meeting you for something, I don’t remember, you borrowed a headband of hers or something, and I went with her. Then I saw you, waiting outside of her house on the sidewalk, and I remember you being so completely beautiful that I could hardly breathe.”

Lysandra rolled her eyes, although her heart skipped a beat. “You are so full of shit.”

“I mean it,” he said, laughing under his breath in the darkness. “I thought you were so beautiful, and I knew you were the woman I was going to marry you.”

“You thought you were going to marry me?” Lysandra asked, quietly,

Aedion was quiet for a moment before he said, ”I am going to marry you.”

Lysandra felt her cheeks heat, although it was too dark to notice. She could just see his outline, could just seek him out. “Kiss me.”

He didn’t hesitate. He leaned across the little way between them and pressed his mouth against hers. It was a soft kiss. Gentle. Innocent. Comforting.

But Lyasndra’s hands were wandering over his chest, feeling his warm skin beneath her fingertips.

They hadn’t gone any further than kissing the week before, had stayed polite - polite enough, anyway - and even then, Lysandra’s soul had been set on fire with excitement and ecstasy. Now, the tips of her fingers meeting his bare skin sent her into an entirely new revelation. His skin was soft, but scarred, hard from the lean muscle.

From the way Aedion sank deeper into his pillow, deeper into the blankets and the mattress beneath, Lysandra came to the conclusion that he liked her touch just as much as she liked touching him.

Their kiss deepened as Lysandra dragged herself on top of his body. His hands were instantly at her waist, holding her against him, gently, but urgently, his fingers sliding up her little nightgown. She wore nothing beneath, and the little growl that vibrated from him into her mouth let her know that it had not gone unnoticed.

Her heart began to race, but not from fear. She was not afraid of being with him, not anymore. She would let herself have this moment, would let herself melt into him and give him all she had left, because if the last few weeks had told her anything, it was that tomorrow was not guaranteed.

Not for any of them.

And Lysandra would not leave this world without loving Aedion Ashryver, and allowing herself to be loved in return.

His tongue brushed along her bottom lip, and when Lysandra leaned back, sat up, straddled his waist, he was watching her, eyes bright, lips swollen, chest rising and falling in heavy pants. He did not speak, did not move, as Lysandra slipped her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside.

Aedion let out a long, slow breath as his eyes grazed over her body, haltingly. She let him explore her with his eyes, let him breathe in all that she was offering. And then his hands were sliding up her thighs, and Lysandra was unbuttoning his pants, and he was sitting up, grabbing the back of her head, lacing his fingers into her hair, and crushing his mouth against hers.

She felt it too, that need, that want. She had never felt anything so urgently before. It was not like lust, although the thoughts she was having were certainly lustful; but, there was more to it. Being so intimate with someone she was madly in love with had a different effect on her entirely. She felt like every second that passed where her lips did not meet his was a second wasted, and every moment where her skin was not pressed up against his was completely and utterly pointless.

His trousers ended up on the floor and she felt him, hard, beneath her as her tongue swept into his mouth, the taste of tobacco and whiskey and ash igniting her senses.

Lysandra wasted no more time as she guided his cock inside of her and he filled her up, her hips sinking down until her ass was perfectly seated on top of him. He pressed his forehead against hers as she moved, held onto those hips with his hands, and then his lips were trailing down the side of her neck, her shoulder, her breasts until his teeth found a peaked nipple and he tugged, only to make up for the slight tease of pain with his soothing tongue.

A quiet moan filled the silence as she held the back of his head, his golden hair wild, her fingers intertwined in the tangled locks.

She breathed his name and he cursed, his voice low, before flipping her over onto the mattress, grabbing her hips, and pulling them into his with such a force that Lysandra cried out. And when he hesitated, surely thinking that he’d crossed a line, she was pulling him down on top of her, then he was moving, once more, keeping a steady pace as her eyes fell shut and her lips tumbled open.

It was simple.

Sweet.

Romantic.

And Lysandra couldn’t help but scold herself for taking so long to get to this point, with this man, her man. Because the moment was perfect.

They made love slowly, passionately, rode it out as long as possible until the early morning had come and gone.

~~~~~

Rowan snuck down the hallway, only stumbling for a second when he swore he heard Lysandra moaning from inside of Ashryver’s room. But he kept on, keeping the thought to himself as he opened the door of the master bedroom and slipping inside.

Aelin was sleeping soundly, the room in complete silence as he padded to the washroom. The room became lit and Rowan’s eyes slowly slid to the mirror.

He was coated in blood.

His face, his hair, his collar, his shirtsleeves, his hands.

He’d walked around the back of Arobynn’s old warehouse, trying to find something more about what Maeve was up to. When he saw the man, Rowan had pulled out his gun, but he’d only gotten the man’s arm, and his gun jammed. Good thing he was fairly good at defending himself, but there was something obscenely gruesome about taking a man’s life with your bare hands - even one who was attempting to end his life.

The others had found him a few minutes later, having heard the gunshot, but they were too late, Rowan had gotten the job done alone.

Although he should have probably been dead. Which, Rowan couldn’t decide if the man he’d killed would have been praised or scorned by Maeve, if he had succeeded.

Would she have been happy that Rowan was dead?

Or, would she be pissed that he couldn’t have stuck around a little longer to watch the others die, first?

Apparently, he’d never know.

With trembling fingers, Rowan began unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, his eyes drifting away from his reflection.

“What happened?”

Rowan jumped, spinning around to the threshold. “Fuck!”

“Sorry,” Aelin breathed, quickly, crossing her arms. Her face was pale, her eyes full of worry. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Her words were quiet, calm, for his sake, no doubt.

Rowan didn’t reply, but his jaw clenched as he continued with his buttons.

“Let me help,” Aelin said, and she didn’t wait for him to reply as she neared him. After starting the tub faucet, she was standing in front of him, pushing his hands aside and helping him get his shirt free.

Once the crimson-soaked fabric was loose, Aelin slid off the shoulder-holster that held his useless pistol, then his shirt. He didn’t protest as she knelt before him and untied his shoes, then helped him out of his trousers, as well.

“Tub,” she said, a quiet order.

Rowan sank into the warm water until the back of his head was resting on the cool porcelain.

“Why do I feel like this isn’t the first time I’ve cleaned someone else's blood off of you?” she muttered, kneeling next to the tub and dropping a rag into the water. She meant to be humorous, but Rowan saw the fear in her eyes.

Rowan said nothing, he just took another deep breath.

But Aelin was taking his chin in her fingers and forcing him to meet her gaze.

“I’m pregnant, Ro,” she whispered, “not made of glass.”

He had been extra cautious around her, and he knew it, and she knew it, and he knew that she knew it but he couldn’t help himself.

With a sigh, he said, “I know.”

Then she waited.

Stubborn woman.

“I ran into one of Maeve’s men,” Rowan said, grabbing the rag from the water and scrubbing at the blood on his hands. “It got a little messy.”

“Alone?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, and when she was about to scold him, he said, “The others were there, scouting, we split up. My gun jammed. They came after the first shot went off, but they were too late to help.”

Aelin let out a loose breath before asking, “Did Lorcan go?”

Rowan gave her a curt nod. “Did okay.”

Aelin nodded, then took the rag from his hands and started wiping off his neck. She froze a second later, and Rowan cringed as her fingers brushed along the cut on his neck, where Maeve’s man’s bullet had grazed his skin.

“You didn’t tell me some of the blood was yours,” Aelin mumbled.

“Hardly,” Rowan replied. “He missed.”

With a roll of her eyes, she kept washing him off, the water turning pink around him as she did so. She wiped off his skin, then his hair, leaving him a soaked mess in the then lukewarm tub. He watched her as she worked, with creased golden brows. She wore a thin silk chemise, her face had been cleaned, her chin-length hair held back with a simple headband.

She was so incredibly beautiful that it often left him breathless. He preferred her this way, in her natural glory, even though she made his heart stop beating when she got all dolled up, too.

“You’re staring,” she said, picking what was left of the dried blood out of his silvery hair.

“I can’t stare at my own wife?” Rowan asked.

“Not when she’s trying to be mad at you.”

Rowan scoffed. “And why are you pissed at me today?”

“Because you nearly got killed,” Aelin said. “I specifically told you when you left this afternoon to come back to me alive.”

Rowan snorted. “I kept my promise.”

“Except you showed up coated in another man’s blood,” she mumbled, pulling at one strand of his hair a little too hard.

“Damn,” he hissed, swatting her hand away.

Aelin’s lips tightened but her eyes were lit with humor. “Sorry, this little speck is really stuck.”

“Liar,” he muttered, but let her continue as he played with the faucet knobs with his toes. “What did you do tonight? While I was gone.”

“Me and Lysandra ate chocolate cake,” Aelin said, simply.

Rowan blinked. “An entire cake?”

“Is that judgment in your tone?” she asked, taking the towel at her side and drying off her hands as she eyed her husband.

“I would never judge you,” Rowan said, but he was smiling, softly. “Was Aedion around?”

“He was out with the horses,” Aelin said. “I think he’s grown fond of Midnight.”

“Hmm,” Rowan said, then pulled himself up into sitting position. “By the way, pretty sure they’re fucking right now.”

He stood up, the water sloshing in the tub around him. Meanwhile, Aelin stayed seated on the floor, gaping. “What? Who?”

Rowan pulled the drain plug and shrugged. “Aedion and Lys.”

Aelin blinked as Rowan reached around her and grabbed the towel, stepping onto the tile beside her. “And how would you know that?”

“Heard Lysandra moaning when I passed his room,” Rowan said, and walked out of the washroom into the bedroom, where Fleetfoot was looking at them both, annoyed, surely pissed that she had been awoken from her slumber.

Aelin sat on the foot of the bed as Rowan stood before her, drying himself off. “Oh my gods. This is brilliant, this is amazing.”

Rowan chuckled. “Don’t make a big deal of it in the morning. Wait for her to come to-.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Aelin said, looking up at her husband, exasperated. “Years!”

“Keep your voice down,” Rowan muttered, drying off his hair.

“I can’t, I’m too excited,” she said, in an abnormally loud whisper.

Rowan dropped his towel and caught Aelin’s gaze. “You’re more excited about them fucking then you were the first time we did it.”

Aelin rolled her eyes and reached out to pull him closer to the foot of the bed by his hips. “Not true.”

“Mhmm,” Rowan mumbled, but let her pull him forward, nonetheless. He stood between her open legs as she ran her hands up his abdomen, to his chest.

“I recall our first time being very magical...and the three times that followed, that night,” she said, grinning.

Rowan huffed a laugh. “My stamina was outstanding.”

Her grin widened as her hands snaked back down, past his hips, over his thighs, and around to his ass. Her face was close enough to his cock that he could feel her warm breath on the sensitive skin as she said, “And how’s your stamina now?”

With everything going on, Rowan had been neglecting his duties in bed. There was only so much time to think about sex when death hovered around him, a constant reminder.

“Are you talking to me or to my cock?” Rowan asked, his voice low.

The light in Aelin’s eyes danced as she snuck a hand around front to lazily graze her fingers over his hardening cock. “Whoever answers me first.”

Rowan shook his head, slowly, as he pushed her back onto their bed and crawled on top of her. She giggled, breathlessly, cupping his face in her hands. “You’re a dirty woman, Mrs. Whitethorn.”

“Only for you,” she whispered, and kissed him, slowly, deeply, her hands wandering down his back, back down to his ass. “Only for you, my love.”

~~~~~

Lorcan left the others the moment they had gotten back to the estate. After grabbing a full bottle of whiskey from the abandoned kitchen, he was going upstairs to his room, which connected to Natalia’s, where Lucy was sleeping in a crib.

He tried to be quiet when he opened his door, but he knocked over the coat rack just inside and it hit the floor with a clatter. He froze, keeping still until he was sure he hadn’t woken his daughter.

The silence went on.

When he assumed it was safe, he let himself inside and shut the door behind him. After finding his way to his bedside table in the dark, he lit a candle and set the bottle of whiskey down before turning around, and nearly pissing himself.

“Fuck!”

Natalia stood on the threshold, where the two rooms connected. Her arms were crossed, her eyes narrowed.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, shit,” he said, a hand over his chest to feel the rapid beating of his heart.

Natalia lifted her chin. With Elide gone, there was no one to translate between them anymore.

“I’ll try to be quieter,” he said, anyway. “Sorry.”

He plopped down on the edge of his bed and unlaced his shoes before tossing them into the corner. As he began to slide off his jacket, he realized that Natalia hadn’t moved. The plump old woman stayed where she was, in the doorway, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

Lorcan sighed and took off his hat before running a hand through his hair. He held up the bottle and looked at Natalia. “Want a drink?”

To his surprise, she walked toward him and sat a couple feet away on the edge of his bed. Lorcan blinked, processing her acceptance, then stood and retrieved two glasses from the little table that sat near the window. He poured Natalia a glass, then himself one. After handing one to her, he pulled up a wooden chair toward his bed and sat on it, backward, resting his elbows on the back of it.

He took a big drink, letting the liquid burn on its way down, welcoming it. Natalia sipped on her whiskey in silence, watching Lorcan, carefully.

“You know,” Lorcan said, a few minutes later, when his glass was already nearly gone. ��I’m grateful that I have you. I always have been. Elide loved you, and Lucy adores you. But now, that she’s….” His words trailed off and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Now that Elide is gone, I am truly grateful for you, Natalia. I am grateful that my daughter has you, because I worry that I am nothing without her.” He went on, knowing she wouldn’t understand, but she listened, nonetheless. “Without Elide….I don’t know, you know? She brought out the best in me, and I fucking love Lucy, but how can I be a father without her here, you know? How can I raise Lucy alone? What if I mess her up, or what if I make the wrong parenting decision? Lucy deserves the best, and I fear that I cannot give her that alone.”

After a moment of silence, Lorcan went to retrieve the bottle of whiskey and filled his glass, once again. When he turned around to resume his spot in his chair, Natalia was looking at him. Then, she said, with a thick accent, “You are too hard on yourself.”

Lorcan froze the moment his ass met his chair. He looked at her, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

He blinked, and a moment passed.

Then another.

Then, he asked, “Are you fucking kidding me? You speak English?”

Natalia shrugged and sipped from her glass.

And Lorcan, despite himself, howled. He laughed, unable to control himself, until his sides hurt and his eyes were blurry, on the verge of tears.

“Hush,” she snapped. “Lucielle is asleep.”

“You fucking speak English,” Lorcan said, staring at the nanny. “You’ve been understanding me the entire time. The entire fucking time?”

Natalia sat up straighter as she said, “I prefer my native tongue. English was pointless.”

Lorcan’s laughter faded as he realized what she was saying. When Elide was around and she could speak her native tongue, English was pointless. And yet, his smile lingered.

Natalia, the old hag. Never ceased to amaze him or scare him shitless.

“Why use it now, then?” Lorcan asked, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. “Why not pretend forever that you have no idea what the fuck I’m saying?”

Natalia took another sip from her glass before meeting Lorcan’s gaze. “Because, despite what you may think, I do not believe you are such a horrible man. I see the way you look at Lucielle, and I saw the way that you looked at your wife. You wish to convince everyone that you are a monster, but those looks….monsters are not capable of such adoration.”

Lorcan’s eyes fell away from Natalia as his jaw locked. He swore he wouldn’t cry in front of the nanny, not again.

“You are a good father, Lorcan,” she went on. “And you are not alone. You have everyone in this overly-priced mansion.” She looked around in distaste before taking another sip. “And you have me, too. Lucy will be okay, as will you.”

And when Lorcan met Natalia’s eyes, once more, he knew she was being honest. Natalia had been fond of Elide, and she of her. Natalia would not stick around with Elide gone if she did not believe the words she spoke.

With a subtle nod, Lorcan said, quietly, “Thank you.”

Natalia huffed and rose to her feet, brushing down the skirt of her robe as if there were wrinkles in it. “Now. Get some sleep.” She turned on her heels and headed for the door, where her room laid beyond. “You’ll need it. You have a bitch to kill.”

Lorcan stared after her.

She took her whiskey to bed.

~~~~~~~~~

@mariamuses @garnet-29 @writer-reader-traveller @rowaelin-cressworth @space-buns-arsinoe @negativenesta @empress-ofbloodshed @the-regal-warrior @starseternalnighttriumphant @westofmoon @sammyjojaaaa @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @carbconnoisseur @acer6437 @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cool-ish-nerd @mynewdreamwasyou @mourning-razorlust @thespiritualrider @rowaelinforeverworld @didsomeonesayviolin @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @queen-of-glass @the-dark-swan @http-itsrebecca @holdingon-21@babycardan @tswaney17 @mollycateoc @chemicha @bat-wing-rhys @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thespiritualrider @luna-the-little @morebooks-pls @shyvioletcat @hermajestyanna @a97girl @stardustsroses @queenofthemoon22 @alifletcher2012 @awkward-avocado-s @faerie-queen-fireheart @cwheart @lovemollywho @emilyrose111294 @nerdperson524 @sleeping-and-books @cursebreaker29 @flora-and-fae @feyrethedarklady @the-dark-swan @rowaelinforeverworld @sjmsstuff @januarystears @mis-lil-red @acourtofmoonlight @rowaelinforeverworld @courtofmaasdestruction @jjellybean @thewayshedreamed @wind-drinker @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @starseternalnighttriumphant @hurema @http-itsrebecca @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cityofchelsea16 @januarystears @iliketoasterstrudels @lightitup-bryce @yikesitsmaddie @feyrethedarklady @i-love-all-books @keshavomit @sleeping-and-books @scarznstars @http-itsrebecca @cat5313 @moondancer-204 @booklover242 @belamoonbeam @they-call-me-cuatro @b00kworm @mu-si-ca-l @thegayerpotato @abraxos-is-toothless @keshavomit @musicdreamer003 @superspiritfestival @sailorsassley @mymultiversee @alxanxah @viviaannvu123 @mysweetvillain @theghostlyharrypooperfan @highqueenofelfhame @shyvioletcat @maastrash

#tacmc ITBMW #lysaedion #rowaelin #elorcan #tog #fanfic #period au #1920s au #PB au

187 notes · View notes

unsaidmar · 3 years

Text

WC: 2.5k (long winded girl, I know)

Plot: They share stuff and it changes how they see things. Connection ensues.

CW: Mentions of death, illness, hospitals I guess, violence.

a/n: Hello y’all. This is part two of whatever the fuck is going on inside my pea brain. Hope you enjoy.

Part one, the meeting.

Two; It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

She laughed at the awkwardness of the text and the perfect grammar Dr. Spencer Reid maintained while texting. Ollie made a mental note to care a little more about the phrasing of her own texts, especially considering the circumstances. To say she wanted to impress him was an understatement.

“Good, germs are yucky.” Sent at 7:45 am.

“Also, hi. Good morning” Sent at 7:45 am.

Good morning? Too much too soon? She fell victim to her overthinking for at least twenty minutes after sending her last text, realizing she had to slowly build up the courage to ask about the next time they would be seeing each other, which apparently would have to wait, since Spencer had an inconvenient schedule and could be out of the state in a matter of 20 minutes. Ollie exhaled and stood up from her awful office chair to go and make herself some coffee, hoping to stop her mind from reeling and sending her into her usual never-ending pit of despair and anxiety that came with stepping out of her comfort zone.

A ping echoed in the room and her screen lit up, displaying a text from the one person she had been thinking about. Ollies mother would be crying laughing if she saw the state she was in, positively losing hair over the fact that a cute, smart, witty man was texting her back. A man she had spoken to for the first time not even 24 hours prior.

“I’m a nice person, I’m funny sometimes, I offered him coffee.” She whispered to herself, rationalizing every aspect of their interaction. “That’s how friendships start” She laughed bitterly. “I’m here… freaking… wishful thinking, and maybe he has a significant other… maybe he doesn’t even like women… maybe he just thought I was nice and he thought ‘yay, a new friend’… fuck” she plopped herself back on the chair and threw her head back.

Lia would have known what the right thing to do is, she would come up with a cool thing to text back on the spot, and she resented her absence like she had a million times before. Ollie had gotten used to writing her letters like her best friend was living somewhere else in the world and she would eventually read her friend’s attempt at keeping her updated, which she knew was not healthy and definitely not helping her move on.

The thing is, Lia’s death was not a surprise at all. It was a possibility to the point of actually being expected. She had been diagnosed as a terminal patient for a little over a year before she passed and almost everyone around her had made peace with the fact that she could go any day and that life would have to go on without her, but no amount of grief counseling and encouraging talks with Lia’s family could have prepared her for the unimaginable pain Ollie felt when it happened. She had heard about experiences that made the world turn upside down and how some life events made you go numb and make your legs give weight, but had never come face to face with a happenstance that painful.

She figured she was going to have to carry the burden of her loss till the day she died, and even then, the words “I missed you, till the very end.” would be carved in her grave.

Coming back from her spiral, she remembered how she fell down the rabbit hole in the first place. She took her phone with the intention of texting Spencer back and smiled at how stupid she had been to worry about seeing him again.

“Hey, arrest made successfully. Are you busy right now?” Sent at 7:57 am.

Sighing with relief, Ollie smiled and tried to sound casual with her reply as to not sound like seeing him again was the only thing she had been thinking about.

“I’m the boss, I can un-busy myself. Why? Were you charmed by my Keurig?” Sent at 8:00 am.

Spencer was not the kind to send sassy texts, or any text for that matter. This was completely new to him and he was determined to get it right, so he channeled the Derek Morgan that lived within him and prayed to whatever deity was looking out for him to make him sound cooler than he was feeling.

“I’m a sucker for coffee so, yes.” Sent at 8:05

“I’m a sucker for you, apparently” Ollie nearly screamed at how quickly that came out of her mouth. “Fucking loser, dear God” She shook her head, scolding herself and whatever hamster was in charge of her brain and thought process.

“Mi oficina es tu oficina, then. I’ll be waiting.” Sent at 8:07

Twenty minutes later, he was there, coffee cup in his hands. After what felt like no time at all, they were four coffee cups deep into their conversation and had learned a lot more about each other. Turns out Spencer had a day off after they landed from an away case, he had a thing with germs, his favorite color was purple and his co-workers were more his family than just the people he happened to work with. He liked a bunch of sugar with his coffee and had an eidetic memory that was as much of a blessing as it was a curse.

He was impressed at how this girl was not what you would expect her to be, every aspect of her seemed to make no sense and at the same time, it made perfect sense. This purple haired girl had ADHD and a PhD in history, she was the oldest daughter of two of the most stubborn Mexican immigrants and had a sister that made even the most patient of humans go mad. She loved music, and was not ashamed to admit that her taste in music was far from sophisticated. “I am Taylor Swift’s bitch; I know the words to every single one of her songs! Same goes for One Direction too” She argued when Spencer said that it couldn’t be that bad.

A blaring ring halted their conversation to an unexpected stop. Ollie picked up the office phone with an annoyed grimace and exchanged a few words with whoever was calling.

“Hold that thought, I have to go sign a thingy at the front desk” She dashed out of her office and left Spencer there.

For the first time, he felt compelled to look around and fixate on the details. There were a few old looking pictures and some newer ones with people who looked a lot like her. There was one picture that caught his attention, isolated from the rest like it deserved a spot of its own. In it, there was a red-haired girl that looked around Ollie’s age, one of her arms around her waist and the other one cradling her head that was laying on her shoulder. Ollie’s eyes were closed and the red head looked like she was caught mid-sentence. Stuck to the frame was a little post it note that read “I love you, head ass. -Lia” It looked intimate, they were clearly comfortable with that kind of physical affection, and if Lia hadn’t called Ollie a head ass in the post it, he would have assumed they were together romantically.

Ollie came back in a hurry, apologizing for having to run out like that and sitting back down to resume their conversation.

“It’s okay, don’t worry” Spencer assured her. “I was looking at your pictures, I hope you don’t mind” He said, suddenly very aware of how invasive that could be.

“Not at all, those are there to be looked at” She shrugged, bracing herself for the question she knew was coming. Somehow, talking about Lia with him did not feel as dreadful as it had all those times she was asked about it before, perhaps it’s just him and his calming presence.

Sure enough, he pointed at the picture Lia had framed for valentine’s day and asked, “Who’s that?”.

“That’s Lia, she was my best friend. She is my best friend.” She smiled fondly, something that had never happened before when talking about this specific topic. Maybe sharing Lia’s memory with someone who didn’t know her was different. “She passed away almost a year and a half ago. 468 days ago, to be exact. She was really sick, it was inevitable” Ollie let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, reaching for the post it and tracing the words over with her finger.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been”

“It was… heartbreaking. Even with all that time we had to process the news, it still took me off guard.” She shook her head trying to ground herself. “Anyways, that’s a sad topic. I don’t want to bum you out with it.”

He knew the feeling all too well, he had apologized to several people when he rambled about Maeve, feeling like he had said too much and gotten too personal. He was not about to let this beautiful, vibrant soul feel the way he had for so long. Like he still did, truly.

“Don’t apologize, I get it. You’re not making me sad” He felt like he needed to elaborate to actually convey the message. “I went through the same thing with someone I loved too” he said, looking down at his hands, the very familiar feeling of oversharing creeping in. As he looked up, he noticed the sad look Ollie was giving him, but if the profiler in him was right, she was inviting him to share, not to stop.

“Her name was Maeve. She… she was a geneticist. She helped me through a rough time and she became my friend. It’s a long story…” he looked away.

“I want to hear it, long or not. But only if you want me to.” She gave him the warmest smile she could muster, which convinced him to keep going.

“Um, I started getting some headaches a while ago. I went to a few doctors but none of them gave me an answer. I reached out to Maeve for help and… We bonded, I guess.” He took a shaky breath.

“You don’t have to continue if you feel uncomfortable” she whispered in the most delicate tone.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’ve never told this story before. Everyone in my life that I care about was there to see it.” He said, meeting her eyes so she could see how honest he was being. The man got a hold of himself for a minute, and continued.

“Maeve had to go into hiding. She was being stalked by some woman she met at work. Beyond talking on the phone, we hadn’t even met. I had no idea what she looked like and vice versa. This girl, the stalker… She wrote a paper, and Maeve dismissed it because it didn’t have a good enough foundation. When she started stalking her, she scared her into hiding and eventually started dating her ex-fiancé to try and get closer to Maeve, assuming he knew where she was. They ended up finding her and confronting her. She shot herself and the first person I ever loved. Right in front of me and my friends. The first five minutes I got with Maeve face to face, were the last.”

Baring his soul to a person he had known for a whooping 18 hours was the weirdest thing Spencer had ever done, so unlike himself it was almost funny. But at the same time, he felt like it had to happen. By no means did he believe in fate or destiny, but this one moment made him feel like maybe whoever does believe in that stuff, is not completely wrong.

She was not a therapist. She listened because she was going through a similar thing herself and her interest in Spencer’s loss was not rooted in psychoanalyzing him and helping him cope. She was just a mundane human that did not look at him with condescension and pity, she looked at him like she, too, had found a person who wouldn’t ask her “And, how does that make you feel?” in a monotonous voice. They both knew better than to assume they had all the answers.

“Spencer, that’s horrible. I am so sorry you had to see that. Jesus, fuck. I- “She thought about her next words very carefully. “That’s enough to crush anyone’s spirit” She looked at him like he was turning green. The reason being, he did not look like he was crushed. He had a beautiful smile that shook Ollie to her core, he was easygoing and conversation with him was carefree and it flowed easily. If he had not told her about Maeve, she would not have guessed the man sitting right in front of her was as affected as her.

“How did you manage to get through that?” Ollie questioned, fully intending to take notes.

“I don’t really think I have yet…” Well, time to come clean. Spencer thought. “The whole reason I was here yesterday, and a lot more times before that one, is because she and I talked about this museum. She told me about some conferences she had attended here and we made plans to visit together. Doesn’t quite sound like someone who’s over the whole thing.” He fiddled with his fingers, suddenly too aware of how cold it was. “How did you get through Lia’s death?”

“Yeah, well. I don’t really think I’m quite there either. Not like I’m trying, anyways. I can’t seem to get away from the Grey Roots either” Mental images of two little kids running around with dusty books in their hands came to her and she couldn’t help the small smile she broke into.

“I’m a hopeless romantic at heart, I have always thought that the way Lia and I found each other was pure magic. We met when we were in the second grade, right in this museum, we were on a field trip and we clicked. It was crazy to me that I actually met my best friend at such a young age, and the kind that lasts forever too. It sounds like when people meet the love of their lives on their first try. It sounds dorky, I know”

“It doesn’t. If anything, it sounds like you consider yourself lucky to have loved her like you did. We need more people like that, people that believe in magic.” Spencer reassured her with a shrug. He wished he could believe in cute stuff like that, but he was happy Ollie led a life that made her believe.

“Yeah, but us crazy people, we get our hopes up too easily. Sometimes it hurts.”

“Tell me about it.”

And just like that, in the not so well-lit office of the head Conservator of the Grey Roots Museum and Archive, something in the world had shifted.

#spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x latina reader #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds #bau #fluff #spencer reid headcanon

19 notes · View notes

raevenlywrites · 3 years

Text

The Ties That Bind 13 of ???

I couldn’t settle after the oaths. I just couldn’t. The ground seemed to hum with power, and as much as I wanted to do my part to be agreeable, I could not focus on peace talks while my head sang with ancient resonance. I felt half-blinded by ghosts, though as Zane had said scent wasn’t the word, sight wasn’t right for what I was sensing either. It was as if my body was trying to inhabit a different life, moving through steps that were not my own. Something important to the Shardae magic had happened here, and under other circumstances I might have been intrigued, even followed where it led. But I could not focus on either it or Zane, so eventually I gave up on both and asked to return to the farmhouse. If Zane was disappointed to leave this place of such significance to his people--and apparently mine--he didn’t show it.

I sent Karashan towards the serpiente lands and Raymond to the Lyssia farm, both looking out for the serpiene guards that would be coming to join Adelina and Zane. The rest of us walked with the serpiente, I in deference to their lack of wings, and my remaining guards split between ground and skies as was their formation when I was in the fields. So we had plenty of advanced warned when Raymond returned with news of a small army.

Army was too strong a word for the score of soldiers, but it was exactly the word for their intent. They had swarmed the Lyssia farm and set up a base--so that my mother and her branch of the Royal Flight could land in safety.

The air in the farmhouse had shifted considerably. Where the Ladies Lyssia had been careful but relaxed around myself and Zane, they were positively on edge around my mother. Maybe the difference was the swarm of soldiers, but having felt exactly this way in my mother’s presence myself, I was fairly confident she was the cause.

Power poured from her, responding to the emotions we usually kept so carefully leashed. It would take a song to give it concrete shape, but there were battle cries as well as lullabies in our body of hymns.

I held to Zane’s hand tightly, partly to extend my shield of control to him, partly to keep my body firmly in line with whatever shot any soldier might take. I knew I couldn’t guard him from every angle, but this was the best I could do.

My head still rang with power, distant echoes of that long forgotten memory we’d raised in the ruins. It wasn’t as blinding as it had been, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking in someone else’s footsteps. The wind seemed to whisper in the forgotten tounge as the wings of so many soldiers filled the skies. They circle like vultures, I thought, scenting death on the air. It served to fuel my determination. No more blood would be spilled. I had sworn it.

So had Zane.

We approached my mother hand in hand, her fury lashing out to reach us at the sight. I stood firm, bolstered by the power of my vows and Zane’s hand in mine. I wished I held Rei’s hand in the other, but I understood the man at my right needed to be free to react to whatever may happen. He would always be my soldier first and friend second. It saddened me to know that this war had taken him from me even as he walked beside me still. Raymond on his other side was another ghost, the memory of Vasili so strong in his presence here.

I was filled with an overwhelming sense of having done this before, having faced down this queen before. Only her face kept swimming, the golden aura of her power going ghostly white, silvering with the patina of false memory. I shook it away, even as it cried out at being disregarded. I couldn’t untangle these ghosts right now. I needed to be present.

“Shardae.”

One word held the entirety of my mother’s displeasure. Question, condemnation, concern, command--my mother could get so much mileage out of so few syllables. I’d always wished for such clarity of purpose when I spoke, dreamed of the day I could address the Council or even a single General with such authority. But when I answered her now, I felt my voice cling on the way out, made small by something inside me that did not know how to be anything else.

“Mother.”

“We were most distressed at your letter,” she said, voice utterly void of emotion. It had all leeched into the power that was coursing and snapping around her. “Once we had actually received it.”

Beside her, her closest guards flinched. Just a tightening around the eyes, but it was there. I wondered if standing that near to her was hurting them, or if they were recalling a fuller fury when she’d been given word that her daughter had acted outside her authority.

It was such an odd dance between mother and me now. Something had gone out of her at Xavier’s pyre, burning away as completely as the body of her last son. She’d told me then that my time as queen had come. But then there were moments like this, or when she’d ordered us away from the Mistari camp, that her insistence she step down seemed so... empty. How was I supposed to lead our people without the backing of their current queen? We couldn’t survive a war on two fronts. We just couldn’t.

“We appreciate your concern for Zane’s wellbeing,” I answered, deliberately misinterpreting her meaning. “As you can see, my healing--“

“Danica, please.” Her words cut mine down, slicing through the sorry lie as cleanly as the paper it had been written on. “I don’t know why you felt the need to concoct such a ridiculous ruse. It’s idiocy is what had me tearing through field and forest looking for you. I’d thought it the work of traitors; I know my own daughter would never pen something so ridiculously and obviously false.”

I felt my own anger try to rise, the urge to scream building in the back of my throat. This was why my speech always came out so small; if I gave it any rein at all, it would roar out of me, years of things unsaid pouring out in a vicious wave.

Zane squeezed my hand, distracting me from my control. My eyes darted to him for only a second, but I thought I saw him smiling. Was it his arrogant mask, or was he trying to encourage me?

I gave up trying to craft a delicate response. I simply spoke my mind.

“Why is it so ridiculous, mother? Why is it so hard to believe that if I received word of someone in need of my aid that I could go to them? I sat with Gregory Cobriana even though there was no hope of saving him. Why then would I not sit with Zane Cobriana, if he asked me to come to him?”

Zane’s hand tightened in mine again and I squeezed back, wishing I could give him a smile as well. But I had to keep my composure, both for appearances and for the sake of the power that danced so erratically in the air.

“I was hurt, Nacola,” Zane said, startling us all. “My heart was sick with despair--“

“How dare you!” a guard snapped, though whether it was at his lying to the queen or addressing her by her first name, I couldn’t say. Beside me, Zane said softly, “Adelina.”

I dared to glance at his other side, where Adelina had slipped into that carefully ready pose. With a mad giddiness, I realized it could just as easily be the beginning of a dance as a fighting pose. My heart ached to see Maeve’s kin so ready to fight. Those white scales were the most beautiful in the firelight, dancing with hot reds and golds to compliment the cool blues and purples of my lady’s power--

I shook my head, violently, trying to dispel these double visions. The power was too thick, I couldn’t breathe.

“Enough,” I gasped, though it somehow rang through the space, even though I’d barely had breath to send it on its way. It rode on the eddies of power like a wing on the wind, going where the currents pulled it.

“We should not fight like this,” I said, feeling the words as both my own and not. I gave up trying to dispel the power and just let it guide me. “I would not stand against you, mother of my heart, but neither will I stand with you in war.”

My mother shivered, shimmering in the power that swirled thick between us. Its silver light snaked across her skin, forming almost patterns, almost letters--

“You know I do not desire war,” she said, and again, the words sounded echoed, doubled back on themselves and twisting with whispers of wind. I clutched Zane’s hand tighter. I desperately needed its grounding, something solid and real to keep from falling to these ghosts. I had never seen such magic before--never seen any magic at all. But I had also never stood at the scar between my mother’s power and mine. Maybe that was the difference.

“Then we have no reason to fight,” Zane said, startling us all. Her voice--his--was a misstep, a tiny dissonance in the building song.. But I felt the tide of it, and would not let it slip away. I had sworn to Emune and Raymond on this very ground that this war was ending. I called on that and the words Zane had just spoken to me in the ruins, and hoped they would be enough to shape whatever power we were weaving.

This war was ending.

“These hands are sworn to peace,” I said, feeling my words take us further from that ringing place where the ghosts of the past tried to swallow us down. “Kiesha’s kin has sworn to help me build a peace, and before two of my flight I did so swear that I would reign in peace.” It was an odd choice of words to call on Zane’s ancient ancestor, but it was too late to question the names of power I was drawing on. So much of magic was simply instinct, clinging to whatever ancestral knowledge still guided us.

“So, mother,” I concluded, feeling the power condense as I prepared to hand it off, “will you leave peacefully, or will you have me foresworn?”

Or will you risk my words turn back on me, I added silently to myself, and have me never rule at all?

The air was thick, with power, with tension, with those spidery silver lines that seemed to be the weft of fate itself. I clutched at Zane’s hand in mine, and again was startled by the timber of his light tenor voice against the memory of richer alto that was supposed to go with those scales.

“And I as well. I have sworn to do no more harm save to defend myself, and as Arami of the serpiente that extends to all my people as well. I gave that oath to the heir of the Tuuli Thea, and will give it again when she becomes queen.” He squeezed my hand and gave me a wink, completely at odds with the serious nature of the moment. “Just to make sure it sticks,” he added wryly.

“Enough of this,” my mother said, sounding only like my mother once again. Zane’s wrongness seemed to shattered whatever contest of wills had been building between us--no doubt his intention. “Shardae, this is no place to conduct royal business. If you wish to treat with the serpiente prince further, can we at least move these discussions somewhere more secure?”

“Secure for you,” I heard Adelina mutter, and felt Zane’s spine stiffen. But she had a point.

“We had been intending to spend the week somewhere more neutral,” I said with forced lightness. “The rest of Zane’s guard are already on their way. So unless you intend to invite them all back to the Keep, I think Zane and I are good out here, thanks.”

My mother bristled. “You can hardly expect me to let you spend a week in the wilderness with a serpiente-- Andreios, speak some sense into her.”

I boggled at that. I’d expected her to order me, dismiss me, bodily drag me back to the Keep even. But to entreat Rei?

To my utter shock, Rei took my free hand.

“Until Danica declares me her pair bond, I can only speak as her guard. The Arami has sworn not to harm her. I don’t like it, but it’s not my place to forbid her from doing things I don’t like. I’m sorry, my queen, but your daughter is as headstrong as yourself. No one has ever been able to talk either of you into doing anything you don’t want to. Unless a fight breaks out and I am forced to bodily evacuate her, I don’t think there’s any appeal I can make that I have not already tried.”

Except for that one, I thought, understanding now why he’d taken my hand. The kiss in the ruins hadn’t changed anything for me, but apparently it had been all the go ahead Rei needed to declare himself my pair bond. It made me want to snatch my hand away, but as he’d also said, that was mostly stubbornness. I was grateful for his show of support, and felt powerful with both men on my side. Surely my mother would see now that the tide had indeed shifted, and it was time to let me rule as she kept saying I should.

“So that’s it then,” she said more than asked. “I just return to the Keep and try to calm the tide of frantic people with the reassurance that you just want to take a little camping trip with the Arami of the serpiente?”

“I don’t think Danica cares much for the idea of camping,” Zane said with his false cheer. “The woods didn’t seem to agree with her.” To me, he said more quietly, “If your people need you then you should return. We can continue our talks another time. There’s no need to lose what ground we’ve gained here today through stubbornness.”

I bit back a sigh. “I don’t think you understand my mother. After this little stunt, I’ll be lucky to have only four guards on me at all times. There will be no getting away, and absolutely no way she’ll let you come to me.”

“Is she queen here or you?” he shot back.

Fair enough.

“Prepare the court,” I finally answered her. “Let them know that once Arami Zane’s escort arrives, we will all be returning to the Keep to continue our talks.”

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon @rainydaydarling

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes

#raev does fic #hawksong fic #the ties that bind #hawksong

14 notes · View notes

asktheheirofslytherin · 3 years

Note

“Yes Nathaniel can be a handful, but he’s also very good at keeping the rest of the boys out of trouble. At least when he’s not the one that’s causing the most of it, but he��s been settling down quite a bit and recognizing his role and responsibilities in our household. As far as decor it’s mostly been myself and Maisie, though Luna being so interested in botany made sure she had her say with the garden." As the tour goes on they reach the library and Iona finally begins to tell her story, "I’m not married, I very nearly was a few years ago. However a week before our wedding I found him bedding another woman. I wasn’t so much feeling heartbroken as I was feeling betrayed, I had trusted him. But it wasn’t just my trust he broke it was my family’s trust too. I was one of seven and my father one of eight, and we are a very close and protective clan. Three of my brothers, two of my younger uncles, and I think it was five male cousins confronted him one night. Then no one heard from him again and my grandmother had a lovely new addition of black dahlias (flowers of betrayal and negative emotions) to a newer section of her garden bed. His parents were even so kind as to pay us for all the cancelled wedding plans, my dowry, because it was officially arranged after we both decided to accept each other after courting; as well as the money they were gifting to us for a honeymoon, and the money they’d set aside to place in a trust for his children. Then they, and the rest of their family left town for good, I think they even moved to America. I’m very cautious to put myself in such situations now and am quite happy on my own. I’ve not completely crossed love and marriage out, but I have stopped seeking for it and accepted if it is going to happen for me then it will. Besides, I’ve got a house full of kids and that’s quite a lot for any serious relationship. It hasn’t stopped Aofie though, I think part of why she came to help was to be closer to a larger social scene." As she’s finishing he noticed quite a few ancient magic books in a language he wasn’t familiar with, but before he could ask anything the small child Maeve barged in with muddied shoes, "Cerby wants me to ask why you smell so strong of snakes, we searched the garden but couldn’t find anything big enough or enough to smell strong enough AND it got better when you came in!"

“I am glad to hear that the boy is beginning to take some responsibility. I have witnessed some unfortunate circumstances where this is not the case. Though your parenting may be a touch better than others, I daresay.”

The Dark Lord smirked at Iona’s mentioning of the garden bed. “Ah, your family is passionate and loyal - if not reactive. I see where the boy gets it from. Still, better his disregard for you be discovered before the wedding that after. There are many pureblood marriages that simply...pretend all is well. Not that I have completely understood. But then again, love is foreign to me. I never expect to marry - never expected to father a child. I suppose if something were to happen to Bella’s husband, there would be pressure for me to take care of her - and as a leader, I may very well bow to that pressure.” He laughed dryly. “Do not tell Bella this. The last thing I need is for Rod to...mysteriously perish of unknown causes.”

“Love,” he said again, a touch of disdain on his tongue. “What emphasis people place on it. I do not believe marriage has much to do with love, truly.” He paused, considering the books on the shelves. “It has everything to do with uniting families, preserving bloodlines, ensuring loyalty.” He shrugged, reaching out and taking a book off a nearby shelf, flipping through it with interest. “You have plenty of children already, if not from your own body,” he mused, “But as a new family to the area, alliances are wise. You have Maisie and Aofie for this, however. So truly, you have escaped need. I am certain Delphini will introduce Maisie to the right sort of boy - and if you so much as hint to Narcissia and Lucius that Aofie is looking to wed, well, they’ll have a shortlist of candidates by breakfast.” He looked back down at the book in his hands. “What language is this? I had initially assumed Welsh, or Gaelic, but it is either an old dialect or something else entirely.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow when the small child came bursting in, recalling the days Delphini would engage in similar behavior.

“Does he now?” Voldemort asked, closing the book and setting it back upon the shelf. “How very observant of him. My familiar, Nagini, is a very large serpent indeed. I am not sure of her exact whereabouts now - though most likely hunting rodents in those wonderful grounds of yours, or else found access to the foundation of the manor - but I suppose she is not far. She is beside me a great deal, after all.” Voldemort looked at the child curiously. “I can speak to Nagini, you know. I am a parselmouth, one who speaks the snake language. I could call her to us if you like, and you could meet her? Cerby would have to promise not to startle her, of course. Can you speak to Cerby like how I speak to Nagini?”

#voldemort #iona #library #cerby #maeve #nagini #sorry this one took a little bit!#i like this story #i also like how voldy is oddly good with children #lmao #nerdettezebracorn333

6 notes · View notes

multiharlot · 4 years

Text

too little too late / s. reid

summary: spencer and y/n have been together for about eight months and she’s beginning to pick up on some things she wish she could remain oblivious to.

warnings: nothing really, light cursing, definite angst, this one is a long one. lmao sorry (2 part imagine. so be on the lookout.)

masterlist

part 2

y/n’s pov

there was always a little piece of her in everything we did. i had somehow become a third wheel in my own relationship. i had taken the backseat for someone who wasn’t even here anymore. i should have known. i should have known the moment i brought him along to get my haircut.

“how do you feel about blonde?” i ask, flipping through the color book.

spencer shrugged and looked over at the book, gently pulling it from my grasp.

“how about black?” he suggests, turning to the back of the book with the dark hair samples.

at the time, i didn’t think anything of it. and i didn’t think anything of it when he had also slyly suggested bangs. i never thought anything of it when his team came over for dinner one night and morgan had pointed out how i eerily resembled my boyfriends deceased ex-lover. i never thought anything of it when spencer would lock himself away, rereading her letters or running his fingers over the book she had gifted him. perhaps it was because i didn’t want to think of it. i wanted to deny it until he had more time to make room for me in his still heavy heart. losing a lover wasn’t an easy thing to cope with, and i had no idea what he was going through. so i only thought, that this was how it was supposed to be. i let myself believe that this sort of treatment was normal. but it’s not.

“hey spence?”

“hmm” he hums tiredly as he tightens his grip around my waist.

i drag my finger over his smooth forearm, tracing the veins bulging through his skin.

“i love you”

“mmm love you too” he mumbles into my neck as he slowly drifts off into sleep.

this was the night i finally had to admit to myself that maybe this man wasn’t as good for me as i thought he was. as i laid in bed, facing my exhausted lover, i placed my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb softly over his stubbled cheek and letting my hand travel from underneath his jaw and into his hair. a content sigh falling past my lips as i studied every inch of his face. as if i had to memorize it before it could dissipate from my view. a gentle and tired smile reaches spencer’s face and he opens his mouth slightly, sucking in a breath of air, and mumbling softly as he exhaled.

“maeve...”

my hand froze and i quickly retracted it from his soft brown curls. my heart plummeted into my stomach and my throat tightened. spencer sometimes talked in his sleep, and it was one of the things i grew to love so much about him. one of the many things. but as he continues to mumble her name amongst the sweet nothings that escaped his lips, i had never hated his quirks more than i did right in this moment. i shifted my body onto my back and spencer pulled me closer, her name still escaping his lips from time to time. this made my mind race. what had she looked like? was morgan right? do i actually look like her? was that the only reason why spence was with me? i hadn’t actually realized how long i had laid there, staring at the blank ceiling, but before i knew it, the sun began poking through the blinds in spencer’s bedroom window. i still found my body paralyzed from the emotions when spencer’s phone rang out. i quickly turned my body away from his, closing my eyes and i listened to him groan and grab his phone from the table.

“hello?”

“yeah...yeah okay i’ll be there.”

he lets out a long sigh and throws the sheets off of his body. i kept my eyes closed as i listen to his rummage through the room. eventually, i hear his footsteps come closer to me and he runs his hand through my hair, his hand traveling down to my shoulder and he shakes me gently.

“hmm?” i hum out, too afraid to look into his eyes.

“i have to go, but i’ll call you. okay?”

“hmm.” i hum, flipping my body away from him.

he lets out a chuckle before i hear him exiting the apartment. i release a breath that i hadn’t realized i was holding and sit up in bed, staring at closed closet doors. the letter filled box screaming at me through screens of the door. i threw the covers off of my body and searched through the articles of clothing and pulled the small shoebox from the back end of the closet, carefully opening the lid and flipping through the opened envelopes. every part of me wanted to read what the letters had said, but i had decided that i had already gone far enough into invading his privacy. but between the envelopes, i found what i had been searching for. the small 4x4 wallet sized photo of a beautiful woman. i looked as though he had taken the photo from a print out of a new article, but she was beautiful. far more beautiful than i could have been, no matter how many times i cut my hair, no matter what color i chose to dye it. no matter how many boxes of contact lenses i had purchased to replace my glasses or how many new articles of clothing i purchased because spencer had told me how much he enjoyed seeing them on me while we were at the store. i wiped my wet cheeks and tucked the photo back into the box, every bone in my body had began to shake with anger and embarrassment. angry at what a fool i was to fall into his tricks. embarrassed that i hadn’t noticed what exactly he was doing. i was giving my all to someone who was giving me nothing in return and now i had been run dry. i took a deep breath and put the box back into the closet. i stood from the ground and grabbed a piece of paper from his desk, writing out the note.

spencer,

i cannot compete with someone who cannot be here to claim their victory. i refuse to continue playing the fool. i love you. and i tried to understand your pain. i tried to help you through your struggles despite the hurt you inflicted on me every time you turned me away to pine after someone who couldn’t possibly respond to you. and maybe i’m being harsh right now, but it’s been years since she passed, spencer. you had so many chances to not continue this relationship. i had left the door open for so long, yet you insisted that you were ready for this. and i let myself believe that you were. but i can’t keep pretending to be somebody you need. i can’t continue being a surrogate for the love you lost. i won’t keep laying next to you when my name isn’t the name that’s leaving your lips when you fall asleep. i can’t stay with you when i’m not the woman you’re dancing with in your dreams. i hope you find peace, spencer. everyone deserves peace. just please don’t try and find peace in somebody else again.

y/n

a sob escaped my lips as i neatly folded the paper, leaving it on top of his desk. the morning sun was still high and bright in the sky. i grabbed my phone from the side of the table and dialed my best friends number, i knew he wouldn’t be awake right now, and should this be any other circumstance, i wouldn’t be calling.

“y/n? why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” he groans, making me chuckle as i wipe the running snot from my nose onto my sleeve.

is that gross? yes. do i care? not particularly no.

“trevor? i umm...i need you to come get me.” i whimper as i walk around his home, collecting my things that were placed sporadically throughout his apartment.

“what? what’s wrong? where are you?” he rushes out, i hear his keys jangling through the other end of the phone as i ran my finger over a framed photo of us that was placed gently on the mantle.

“i’m at spencer’s. i’ll tell you when you get here.” i sniffle.

“yeah. okay. i’ll be there soon. do you need me to stay on the phone?”

“no...just...get here.”

i hung up the phone and take the photo from the frame, deciding to leave no memory of us. as if we had never existed. because that’s certainly how it felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*10 months later*

“daniel, baby, please breathe.” i smile, placing my hand on my boyfriend’s broad chest to withhold him from his continuous rambling.

he chuckles, taking a deep breath before nodding his head.

“i know i know. i’m sorry. this guy just...i moved here to get away from the big town crime. yet here i am, dealing with some rambunctious serial killer.” he frumps, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

i give him a gentle smile and clean up the plastic containers littering the small coffee table in his office where we were taking a quick lunch break after i had finished my all night shift at the hospital.

“yeah well, you have the fbi coming in. they’ll help you figure this out.” i say as i throw the containers into the garbage.

“and i have my beautiful trauma nurse girlfriend who will definitely come save my life if i have a panic attack over this?” he asks, a dopey smile on his face.

“of course.” i giggle, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

there’s a soft knock at the door and one of his deputies pokes his head into the office.

“hey guys, sorry to interrupt but that fbi team is here.”

daniel looks at me apologetically and i wave him off.

“go greet them. i’ll finish cleaning up in here and then i’ll head off.”

“okay. thank you. and let me know when you get back home please?”

i nod my head and he stands up from the couch, placing another kiss to my lips before walking out of the office. i had met daniel about a month after moving away from quantico. we had met on my first day at the hospital after he had sprained his wrist after tripping to get a cat out of a tree. i was originally very hesitant to get into another relationship so soon after spencer, but daniel had proved to be ten times the man spencer ever was. daniel showered me with the love and affection i never got from spencer, and he always reassured me when i needed it. he was so patient with me and took good care of my fragile heart. soon enough, i found myself in love with the small town sheriff and had long forgotten about the man who took my love and ran with the wind. that was, until i walked into the middle of the small office and came face to face with the bau.

“y/n” morgan gasps quietly and my eyes skim over the team, eventually meeting spencer’s.

my heart skipped a beat and my hands turned into fists at my side as i gripped tightly onto the pants of my scrubs. i felt a hand on my lower back and my vision shifts upwards to my curious boyfriend.

“you guys know each other?” he asks, flipping his line of sight from me to the team.

“yeah ummm...i didn’t know you brought the bau in...” i mumble, and daniel nods cautiously.

“yeah i did...are you okay, y/n?”

i cleared my throat, grabbing daniels button up and dragging him down to my level, standing on my toes as i whispered into his ear.

“spencer’s on this team.” i whisper quickly before releasing him from my grasp.

“oh...oh” he says, his eyebrows raised as his eyes fall onto spencer.

i quickly elbow his side and smile nervously at the team still standing in front of me.

“well, ya’ll have a serial killer to catch, and i have z’s to catch. i’m really tired, so i’m gonna head home. but it was nice seeing you all.” i smile, nodding my head awkwardly as the deputy leads them into the back of the station to set up.

spencer’s gaze never pulls away from me and i shift uncomfortably.

“hey, are you sure you don’t want to stay at my house?” daniel asks worriedly.

i roll my eyes, placing my hand gently on his cheek.

“i will be just fine. nobody will mess with me knowing i’ve got a mr. beefy boy as a boyfriend.” i wink, bumping my hip with his.

“yeah, stronk beef cake will protecc and attacc.” his deputy snorts, making me throw my head back in laughter.

daniel rolls his eyes and grabs my chin, pulling my face up and pressing a swift kiss on my lips.

meanwhile, spencer and morgan stood at the table, both staring intensely at the sheriff and the woman who used to look at the resident boy genius the same way she looked at this small town sheriff.

“looks like you’re too little too late, kid.” morgan says, placing an empathetic hand on spencer’s shoulder.

“i lost one love, i’ll be damned if i lose another.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #x reader #reid x reader

409 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Spencer Reid Fic Headcanons Q&A

Well, here is my nearly 7,000 words worth of answers for headcanons on my stories! Thank you to the Anons, @dreatine, and @thatgeekwhotalks for submitting so many wonderful questions! I love you all very much!

Here to Misbehave

Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place and at any time?

Reader. While Spencer is basically always capable of being turned on, there are many situations where he would be uncomfortable. Reader would care much less. Basically the only way she would be completely against the idea is if there were unwilling participants nearby.

Who is more seductive when they are drunk?

You’re going to see this in the story, but I’ll tell you anyway - Reader is more seductive. Spencer basically turns into a giant pile of mush that won’t stop talking about how much he loves his girlfriend. She’s the one who has to convince drunk Spencer to let her do anything, because he gets distracted every five seconds (again, distracted by telling her how much he loves his girlfriend).

Who is louder in bed?

Reader. Unless she’s gagged. There are some times when Spencer is louder (usually Sub!Spence), but Reader cares significantly less about being heard, so she’s usually louder. If they knew no one could hear them? They’d probably be evenly matched.

Who asks for more cuddles? Who’s the first to initiate cuddles?

Spencer. He’s the one who initiates more often. Reader claims she only does it because he seems like he needs them, but it’s really because she wants them; he knows and lets it go. Reader generally has a hard time admitting she needs gentle intimacy (something he is very aware of and tries to make up for). That’s why it was a big deal when she first asked him to just hold her.

Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

Reader makes fun of Spencer for being sappy all the time, and he reminds her that she loves it. This cycle never ends. Even if/when (cough) they’re married, she constantly makes fun of him for being so in love with her.

Who starts a food fight in the kitchen?

READER. Spencer is disgusted (and kind of pissed lol), but also feels the undying urge to beat her. Afterwards they both clean the kitchen and each other happily.

Who initiates duets? And who is the better singer?

Reader always makes Spencer sing, even though they’re both bad at it. She’s much, much better than him, though. They like to listen to each other sing. She makes fun of him because theoretically, he should be good at singing, since he can remember all the words and how the notes go. But he sucks, and she loves how it’s one of the few things she’s better at.

Who starts the hand holding?

Spencer. Like I mentioned before, she has a really hard time requesting or initiating gentle intimacy without sex. He gives her an out by initiating it for her whenever he thinks she needs it.

Who grabs the others butt?

Tied. He grabs her butt all the time in public just because he loves how no one would ever believe that he did it. She does it because she just loves touching him. She’s not nearly as sneaky about it.

Who slides their arm around the other’s waist?

Reader puts her arm around him a lot. It’s basically a half-assed hug from her. She also does it anytime she gets even remotely sleepy.

Who likes to put their fingers in the belt loops?

Reader. She would basically always be holding them if he let her. He makes jokes about how she’s basically holding his pants up better than the belt (until she takes them off).

What’s something they like that may be surprising to others?

For Reader, she like to play strategy based board games with him. He didn’t believe it at first, either. For Spencer, he loves watching sitcoms with her (this will be in the story!)

Who is more likely to cheat?

I want to preface this by saying that neither would ever cheat. They both love each other very much and would both reach out to their partner before it reached that point.

That being said, Reader. Only because she is more aggressive in her pursuits. She would still have to essentially be blackout drunk, and even then I don’t think she would be able to go through with it. Spencer I could only see emotionally cheating, and even then I think he would have left Reader before it reached that point.

They love each other okay 😭

Dark Side

Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

This will be in the story! The answer is honestly both. Bambi is more of a target than Spencer, but if she ever saw someone mess with Spencer, she would definitely fight for him. Her methods are much less physical than Spencer’s, tho.

Also, Spencer would let Bambi try to fight her own battles at first. He trusts that she’s strong and capable of protecting herself.

Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

It depends on the pun. Super technical/scientific puns are more often said by Spencer, and Bambi would cringe at most of them. When Bambi makes super technical/scientific puns (about psychology), Spencer just wants to jump her bones.

Bambi makes the pop culture references and puns that, once Spencer understands what they mean, he hates. Eventually they both start to find them genuinely hilarious.

Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

Spencer, just because he’s taller. There are times Bambi demands to try and he just gets hit in the head a lot. He suffers through it for her, though.

If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do?

I think they would go to London.

Bambi would want to go to the Freud Museum, and Spencer would hate it. He’d spend the whole trip asking her why she bothered studying someone who’s been so discredited (despite her explaining that’s why she’s interested! And it’s history, Spencer!)

To make up for it, she would surprise him by taking him to the Down House (home of Charles Darwin). She’d also book them a private Doctor Who sightseeing tour and pay the guide extra so that Spencer could tell her everything, instead.

Who would take the pictures?

Bambi. Spencer breaks every camera he touches. He also doesn’t like being in pictures, but will take them with her (so a lot of the pictures are selfies). Occasionally he’ll snap a candid of her and she loves it even though it’s blurry. Most of the pictures taken are of their view, rather than either of them.

Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place and at any time?

Spencer! This one should be pretty obvious (lmao). Although he’s less risky now than he was when he met her, he’s still pretty adventurous. She acts like she hates the idea, but she definitely is excited by it.

Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Bambi. She loves the chance to take care of him under any circumstances, which is why she tries to keep it relaxing. Problem is, someone taking care of Spencer awakes all of his urges (since it basically never happens, he’s spent his whole life taking care of other people, even his own mother), and he has to have her immediately. She usually lets him.

Who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to go put some clothes on?

Spencer is basically never naked, so it’s Bambi. Since he lives in an apartment, he’s always concerned about all the different situations someone could walk in, or that he’d have to quickly evacuate. He wears pajamas basically all the time, and was shocked to find that Bambi basically doesn’t own any.

He tells her to put clothes on, but they’re always his clothes and they never stay on very long.

Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Bambi. She’d wait until he fell asleep because she’s worried about him not getting enough, even when she’s angry. Afterwards she would get up and leave. She’d wake up in the morning to him desperately trying to fit on it with her while he apologized.

Who thinks they are not good enough for the others love?

Surprisingly, Bambi. She always wonders if she really did take advantage of Spencer, and if he would have ever considered her to be anything special if he’d met her before he went to prison. She never talks to him about it, but he can tell she’s worried about it so he constantly reassures her.

Who’s more afraid of losing the other?

Spencer. He’s petrified that he’ll make a mistake and lose her either by someone taking her (cough cough), or hurting her badly enough that she can’t be with him anymore. It takes him a long time to really open up about his problems because he’s worried she’ll start to view him as more of a client than a boyfriend.

Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

Both of them. Spencer more often than Bambi. As he starts to actually unpack his trauma, he worries less about it and Bambi starts to worry more. At one point she worries that once he’s better, he won’t want to be with her anymore (essentially, that he’ll view her as a therapist instead of a girlfriend lmao).

Who starts randomly slow dancing with the other in the kitchen?

Spencer dances with her every chance he gets because he remembers that he never got a chance to dance with Maeve, and he never wants to wonder with Bambi. She comes to expect it and will put music on whenever she wants to dance with him. At one point, she jokes that they’ll have their first dance planned way before they get married. He gets very embarrassed but excited.

Who holds the other just above the ground and kisses them?

Spencer picks Bambi off the ground and kisses her all the time. Basically whenever she gets sad, he picks her up and carries her around.

Who says shitty puns and sex jokes just to see the other giggle and blush?

Bambi. Despite Spencer’s demeanor during sex, he gets very flustered when she brings it up or is raunchy outside of the bedroom. He never expects it, so she likes to mess with him.

Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

Spencer said it first, and she immediately said it back. It was completely random, and neither of them made a big deal out of it. It was like they’d said it a million times before.

He’s also the one who ends arguments with “Because I love you.” Mostly because she knows if he’s using that line, he has an actual answer that’ll prove her wrong. It’s his way of letting her win, so it always successfully ends the argument.

Who starts the hand holding?

Spencer, technically. She kept staring at his hands until he held hers. Eventually she admits that’s not why she was staring, but that she enjoys it nonetheless.

Who grabs the others butt?

Bambi grabs and smacks his butt all the time. He jumps and blushes every single time.

Who slides their arm around the other’s waist?

Spencer pulls her close to him whenever they aren’t holding hands. She occasionally has to stop him. She’ll link arms if she’s worried he’s getting too touchy.

Who likes to put their fingers in the belt loops?

Bambi. It’s a (not at all) subtle way of telling him she wants them off.

Who likes to write the other’s name on their wrist?

Bambi won’t necessarily write it on her wrist, but she doodles his name in her notebooks often. At first he’s worried when he finds it because he thinks she’s keeping client notes, but then he realizes they’re really just teen-romance doodles (including her signature with “Reid” instead of her last name).

Does Bambi have a nickname for Spencer? If so, what is it?

She occasionally calls him Prince Charming to be funny. Otherwise, she calls him “darling” or “dear.” He always makes a joke about the latter (because Bambi is a deer).

Why did Spencer make first move to Bambi in the prison? What was it about her that he felt a connection to her that made him act that first day?

For one, she was just the first person he’d really seen and she was very beautiful. But beyond that, she immediately recognized that he was a good person, which was something he really, desperately needed someone to tell him.

She never doubted his intelligence or moral character (even when she should have). He could also see that despite not being scared of him, she was very… jumpy. He thought it was cute and wanted to experiment with it.

I also didn’t show their initial interaction, but she was generally interested in learning more about him and his work. Not to profile him, but because she recognized he was being dehumanized and wanted to offer him some reprieve. That really touched him and it made him a lot more vulnerable than he would have been with a more transactional person.

Was he surprised that she let him have sex with her in the prison? Did he honestly expect her NOT to come back?

At that point, he was kind of fucking losing it, so I’m not sure he ever really stopped to consider whether she would want to or not. He figured she would make it obvious if she didn’t want to. After every single one of their interactions, he was convinced he’d ruined everything and she wouldn’t come back. She felt the same and was always worried he’d turn away her visits.

After the events of Part 2, did Bambi and Spencer talk about what happened when she called out Flower?

Yes and no. They spoke a lot in generalities about their hard and soft boundaries. It did change how their later sexual interactions went. He was much more vocal about what was going to happen and she was more obvious about whether or not she was enjoying it.

For awhile, they used the red/yellow/green method to test how far the other was able to comfortably go. They also had a period where they only had vanilla sex to protect his psyche (and remind him that he doesn’t have to hurt her to make them happy).

How did that conversation go? Is that when they decided to become an actual couple or did they both know back at the prison that they were meant for the other?

Spencer’s joke about the husband was only half a joke; he really did wonder how wrong he’d been about her since he only got to see her very briefly. Although he wanted to be with her since the prison, it wasn’t until after the Flower situation that she asked him if they could be in a relationship. He was initially too stunned by the question to answer. When she asked again, he said yes.

Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

Bambi buys him the nerdiest gifts ever. She doesn’t even understand half the references, she just knows it’s something Spencer talked about before, so she gets it for him. Half of it she just keeps at her place so that he’ll feel more comfortable there.

Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

Both of them! Since they both call each other Dr. (last name) when introducing them to others, they mix up their names all the time. Bambi always jokes that once they’re both Dr. Reid, things will be way easier.

Who spends almost all their money on the other?

Bambi spends a lot of money on him. She wants to make sure he always has something to remember her by. She also wants him to experience things with her – especially considering it doesn’t happen often. So when they go out, she usually goes pretty hard.

Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

Neither of them, honestly! If anything, Bambi kind of wants him to be more naked, more often. Since he’s usually pretty self conscious, she likes the opportunity to surprise him with praise. She’s known to pop up behind him and put her hands up the front of his shirt.

Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

Both of them. They’re chaotic as hell. Even worse, their all-nighters never really seem to coincide. Bambi is more likely to get more sleep, even if it’s still not much.

Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

Bambi is a terrible cook, but an excellent baker. So while Spencer would tell her it’s okay, she would already have made the cookies to eat instead of dinner. His sweet tooth is usually pretty okay with it.

Who is more seductive when they are drunk?

Bambi. Spencer is surprised, because she usually is the more reserved of the two. When she drinks, he jokes that she becomes an entirely different person. He assumes that persona is more similar to what she was like as a teen/young adult.

Who is louder in bed?

Spencer. Bambi is very quiet, and enjoys hearing him more than she enjoys expressing herself. Spencer loves when she does make noise, because it shows just how overwhelmed she really is.

Who is more protective?

Spencer. Bambi gets pretty protective of him, but also knows that he can take care of himself. While Spencer wants to give Bambi a chance to take care of problems herself, he often finds himself unable to wait. He would throw hands for her in seconds. It would take a bit more for her to become violent.

Who talks to the other while they are sleeping?

Spencer talks to her while she’s sleeping often. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that she’s a light sleeper. Sometimes when he suspects she can hear him, he’ll only talk to her in other languages.

Who drives and who has the window seat?

Bambi usually drives! Just because she likes to, and he doesn’t.

Who falls asleep in the others lap and who carries them to bed?

Spencer falls asleep in her arms a lot, but she can’t carry him to bed, so they just sleep on the couch. On the off chance she’s the one curled in his lap, he would definitely carry her to bed.

Big spoon/Little spoon?

They share the little spoon spot about 50/50. If one had to win, it would be Spencer as little spoon. Any chance for her to baby him and make him feel loved and vulnerable, she will jump on.

Most common argument?

Conversations about the zodiac and personality tests. They argue about whether or not one is more justified than the other. Basically any psychology topic ends up in a playful fight. She just hates that he’s always right, so she’ll argue whatever side he doesn’t take until he can’t handle it anymore and jumps her.

Favorite non-sexual activity?

Holding hands while they both read their own books. A close second is walks the two take in the park.

What is their favorite feature of their partner?

Bambi loves how expressive his face is, and the way he uses his hands when he talks.

Spencer loves the way she’s always humming and singing when she thinks he isn’t paying attention. Sometimes when he’s having a hard time falling asleep on a case, he’ll think about her humming to help him fall asleep.

What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Spencer starts calling her by her real name more often. Bambi is much more affectionate (hugs, holding hands, kisses on the forehead/cheek).

Who wakes up first? Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Bambi. She usually wakes up with the sunrise. Unless Spencer has a case, he sleeps in late and basically never wants to leave. She keeps a book on her bedside table so he can cuddle with her until he’s ready to get up.

Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Spencer always wants to hold her hand. Whenever she lets go because she needs to do something, he gets very sad. She tries not to take too long.

Who initiates kisses? Who kisses the hardest?

Bambi initiates, Spencer kisses harder. If Bambi kisses hard, she is really turned on. Like, they better get in private real quick.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Spencer whispers inappropriate things to her all the time. No one ever believes her.

Who needs more assurance?

Spencer. He’s always worried she’s going to realize he doesn’t deserve her, or that he’s not interesting enough for her.

What would be their theme song?

This one is easy because it’s what inspired the fic! Dark Side by Phoebe Ryan.

Don't turn on the light and stay with me tonight I don't want another version Don't be a better person Don't want nobody perfect So pull me beneath the surface 'Cause I'm in love with your dark side

Has Bambi met Diana? If so, how was that meeting?

She hasn’t yet, but when she does, it goes well. Spencer was hesitant because he didn’t want Bambi to see what he might turn out to be. In the end, Bambi was very patient and enjoyed hearing Diana’s stories. She’s never bothered when Diana doesn’t remember her, and says she loves the chance to meet her over and over again.

Also, did Spencer, on some level, hope to get Bambi pregnant after he had sex with her in the prison and the time in part 2, considering he has an impregnation kink?

In the prison, probably not. Too many logistics that would be problematic if she got pregnant. Outside of the prison, yeah, he did. He wanted to dominate/claim her in any way he could. He was also very emotional in Part 2, so the idea of being with her forever sounded really ideal.

Schrodinger’s Relationship

Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

Spencer is always trying to sleep in her lap. Always. He’s like a cat; he falls asleep there so often and she just has to sit and suffer because she wants to get up but he looks so cute.

Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

Reader walks around the house naked all the time and Spencer always freaks out because she leaves all her blinds open and she’s just like “who fucking cares?” Then he gives her a 20 minute lecture on stalkers and peeping toms.

Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

Spencer burns everything he tries to make her. Reader is actually a pretty good cook, although she eats at the bar way too often. When Spencer found out how much she loves baking, he almost made a joke that it didn’t seem to suit her, but got distracted by picturing her in a maternal setting.

Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

Surprisingly, Spencer steals her clothes a lot because she wears things around the house that are way too big for her (he also usually shows up straight from work and has no other clothes). She basically lost all of her basketball shorts, sweatpants, and big t-shirts.

Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

Reader has always wanted to do a road trip across the country, so Spencer is trying to buy her a small gift from every state. He’s like halfway there thanks to work. She plans to buy him one in each state once they finally get to go.

Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

This one is the same for all of them, since Spencer is referred to as “Reid” all the time, it’s easy for his girlfriend to tag “Reid” on her own name, too. Less so a problem for this Reader as Dark Side, though!

Which one gives the other their jacket?

Spencer gives her his jacket often, but every now and then she’ll drop her oversized clothes over his shoulders when he’s cold or sleepy. He snuggles it like a toy.

Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

This wasn’t shown, but it was Spencer! She was having a really awful day, so he stayed after (per usual). Although she was the one to start the conversation and vent about her day, Spencer was the one who basically told her that she deserved to be treated better. Reader asked if he knew any willing men, and he (ahem) volunteered himself.

How good would your OTP be at parenting?

They would be the coolest and most chaotic parents ever. Reader would let the kids get away with everything, but they would be (for the most part) very well behaved. She would try to get them to get into trouble with her as they got older. Eventually, their idea of getting into trouble was things like correcting their teachers and grammar mistakes in graffiti. Spencer was very proud.

Who said “I love you” first?

Reader was the first one to say I love you, and it was a mistake. She was so embarrassed she covered his mouth and kicked him out. He shouted it back from the hallway.

Who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

Reader. After she got over the initial embarrassment, she says it nonstop now. Spencer knows she does it to win arguments, but he still lets her win every time.

After part 2, did the situation with the team get better for the Reader and Spencer? Who was the first to come around? And did JJ and Emily ever confront Spencer on catching him and the Reader finishing having sex?

Emily was the first person to come around. Her and Reader had a heart to heart at the bar a few nights later. Spencer and JJ had a talk, with the latter agreeing that both of them had been hard on the other.

At first, JJ and her were just cordial until one night JJ desperately needed a babysitter and asked Reader, who was so touched by the fact she trusted her with her kids that the two finally apologized to the other.

JJ and Emily are still mortified about what happened in the office, and Reader likes to bring it up often. Spencer is super embarrassed about it, but also a little proud, so he lets her.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Both of them. All the time. At first, it’s mostly Reader, but as time goes on, he gets way raunchier than her.

Who needs more assurance?

Reader. She regularly feels like she isn’t good enough for Spencer since she’s not as “impressive.” He regularly reminds her how much he enjoys how different they are.

What would be their theme song?

Bad Girls by MKTO!

She gets what she wants, she takes what she needs She all over me She kinda mean but ain't a problem to me A little bit of hell, but she got me in heaven She my bond girl, I'm MKT-007

I love them bad girls doing bad things Lookin' hot with an attitude Love them bad girls like a bad dream Shouldn't want them, but I do

Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

Spencer. He’s terrible at it, but he does it, anyway. Reader loves to listen to him, and always encourages him to sing with her in the car.

Who initiates kisses? Who kisses the hardest?

Reader to both. She is very aggressive with him in general.

Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Spencer. He wants to show her off all the time (because he’s so proud a crazy cool lady like that loves him, but also because he knows it means a lot to her).

Who wakes up first? Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Spencer wakes up first, and Reader wants to stay in bed a little longer. She works late nights, so he always lets her.

Who rocks the Ferris Wheel seat and who flips out and begs them to stop?

Definitely Reader, lmao. Spencer refuses to go on them with her now. He’s also scared of being in elevators with her (and usually kisses her in them to distract her).

Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place and at any time?

Spencer is always horny, but Reader is the one more willing to do it in risky situations. She’s very convincing.

Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Spencer has to convince her to do it, and she always turns it into sexy times. He’s always trying to find an excuse to praise and cuddle and baby her. She always turns it into a joke.

So, how many times has Spencer come into work with hickeys and scratches? Does the team even bat an eyelash?

He doesn’t do it as often after they had a sexual harassment training on professionalism. That was mortifying. Rossi also had a talk with him. The worst. Now she keeps them mostly hidden. Whenever he wears a scarf, they all know.

Has Reader met Diana? If they have, what were their reactions?

Yes, she does meet Diana. Spencer is shocked by how calm and patient she is, and Reader gets mad at him for it (because of course she can be nice and maternal, asshole!) Diana loves how goofy and fun she is.

If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

They would go on the road trip across the country! Reader would take a BILLION pictures, and demand Spencer take pics of her at landmarks (even though he’s terrible at it).

Who is embarrassed when they have to wear glasses and who thinks they look super cute?

Reader hates having to wear glasses. Spencer thinks she looks adorable in them. She also loves his glasses - he rarely wears them because every time he does, she tries to have sex with him lmao.

Late Nights & Bar Lights

Who spends all their money on the other?

Reader. The funniest part is she spends it on experiences she forces to Spencer have with her. Things like… going to amusement parks, watching movies he’d never otherwise see, etc. She also buys him lots of keychains, pins, stationery, and fancy pens. He basically always has at least one gift she’s given him on him at all times.

Who is insecure about deserving the other's love?

Spencer! It’s not that surprising considering who he is as a person, but… He’s always seen Reader as a super beautiful unattainable goddess who shouldn’t even look twice at him. Despite being super submissive in bed, outside of it she constantly showers him in praise and shows him off to everyone who will listen (including cashiers, family, and the rest of the team, all of whom are forced to listen).

What would be their theme song?

Bones by Galantis 🥰

You bring an energy I've never felt before Some kind of chemical that reaches through my core Feels like as far as you and me, I've never had a choice You feel like home.

You’re like the opposite of all of my mistakes Tear down the biggest walls and put me in my place I know, that kind of comfortable you cannot replicate You feel like home.

Ribcage

What happened after? Did both the reader and Spencer go to therapy?

Spencer was put on paid administrative leave. His sabbatical was moved up so he could stay with Reader. They did both go to therapy, and he taught at university for a semester until Reader returned to work.

Was Spencer able to properly tell the Reader that she was love of his life?

Yes! Not long after the situation, the two moved in together (out of her fear and also because they wanted to have a more serious relationship). Within a couple years, he would propose to her.

Were the team a little concerned with the aftermath of Spencer's rage?

Yes, but no more than they were with Hotch and Foyet. If anything, they were less concerned considering Spencer’s history with his girlfriends. Mostly they were just thinking “Thank god she’s alive.” Since Spencer was so open to therapy and an extended sabbatical, they knew he would be okay. They still stopped by and checked in on the two of them often. About halfway into the time off, they actually got worried Spencer wouldn’t want to come back because he was so happy spending time with her.

Body of a Goddess

Has what Spencer did, help with her body positivity? Has she become more confident? Do they start making love with the lights on?

While this was the first time he’d done it in awhile, he continues to do things like this more often. Each time it gets a little bit easier. He can’t fix her problems by himself, but he does continue to find more ways to make her feel beautiful.

When they do eventually have sex with the lights on like it’s no big deal, it means a lot to both of them. She doesn’t actually even notice until much later, when he brings up how happy it made him.

Does he share any insecurities he has with her?

Yes! He does this often, but is worried that it will distract her. He usually does it in a funny way, to show her that we’re our own worst critics.

Different Kind of Daddy

After he got the news, what changed for Spencer? Has his desire for the Reader grown exponentially? Was he afraid of hurting her? Did the reader reassure him?

Not too much changed in their dynamic - it was already pretty solid. While he was more attracted to her, most of that attraction was not necessarily sexual more than it was intimacy. Things like holding her more often, wanting to bathe with her, wanting pictures of her. He was afraid of hurting her, especially since they were used to more rough play (which she didn’t really want to stop, but he was uncomfortable with it).

Reader often reassured him that her and baby would be fine. One day she got tired of waiting and just straddled & rode him like an unhinged woman. After that he got a lot more lenient.

What has he done to prepare for the arrival?

Mostly normal things. He already knows a ton about the pregnancy and birthing process because he learned it when JJ was pregnant. He started looking at and buying more baby related things as the pregnancy went on. Mostly they did it together. The only thing he did by himself was buy small trinkets for her whenever he had to travel. He also started behaving more conservatively at work (taking less risks).

How protective did Spencer get with the Reader? More possessive? Did he confront anyone who so as much looked at the reader in a wrong way?

Very. While he wouldn’t ever get upset or hostile with anyone, he definitely didn’t like her being in any situation without him that was even slightly dangerous. He didn’t even really like her going to stores without him in the later months. He freaked himself out by looking up information about crimes against pregnant women.

But overall, he kept a handle on it. She did everything normal, anyway.

How was Spencer when the Reader first started showing? Pride? Horny?

He definitely felt a lot of pride. She would constantly wear maternity shirts that were nerdy or explicitly said she was pregnant. They made him happy. She also bought maternity specific lingerie, which was the most turned on he was the entire pregnancy.

For the most part, seeing how she looked while pregnant stirred up a lot of complicated emotions (Will I be a good dad? Am I supporting her enough?) but also a lot of very happy emotions (He never thought he’d get here, he loved other people knowing she was his). You know how it goes.

Repentance

Did Spencer and the Reader eventually get together?

Yes! While nothing happened that night, they started seeing each other more often (and not just when they were sad!). Eventually, he asked her on a real date. Their progress was very, very slow. It took them like another year before they actually started seriously dating and announced it to coworkers (who already been knew).

Has Spencer become more affectionate with the Reader?

He stopped holding himself back. Reader had to remind him often that most people don’t touch their friends like he does. He didn’t really know, since he doesn’t normally touch anyone. It was part of him realizing how much he liked her.

Does Spencer finally believe he's found true love with the Reader?

I think, eventually, yes. But like I said, it took a very long time. Spencer and Reader both had a lot to work through before they could give themselves to the other. They didn’t want to rush into things and make juvenile emotional mistakes.

Jazz & Jealousy

What did Spencer do after meeting with Ethan at the end? Did he join the reader?

He eventually climbed back into bed with her, but she was too tired to even notice at first. In the morning they wake up very hungover, but cuddling very intimately.

Did Spencer play the piano for the Reader?

Yes! The next time she went to his place and saw the keyboard, she made him play for her. She sang though (he’s terrible at it).

Who is the most affectionate?

In public - Reader. She’s known to be more aggressive/domineering of the two of them to other people, so they keep up that charade in public. Sometimes the role reversal slips through, though, and people are always weirded out by how easily he can get her to do anything.

In private - Spencer. He’s the first one to touch her and the hardest to get to stop.

Big spoon/Little spoon?

Reader is the little spoon. She also likes to face/hug him a lot. She’s also known to lay halfway on top of him when he’s on his back.

What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

Reader loves his fashion sense. She always tells him he looks like a sexy librarian or a professor. He gets embarrassed, but secretly likes how much she enjoys how he dresses since he’s always insecure about it.

Spencer loves her laugh. He always tries to tell jokes and keeps track of what she laughs at around other people, so he can try to make her laugh more often.

What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Their communication gets way fucking better. They also start performing better together on cases. Half of the tension at work is gone (and replaced with another kind…). Otherwise, she hugs him a lot more. Everyone notices.

Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

She calls him Tomcat sometimes as a joke when he gets feisty and reminds her of the way he was at the Jazz Festival (where they heard “Tom Cat Blues”). He’s since started calling her Duchess in return since she made him watch Aristocats with her.

Who worries the most? Who needs more assurance?

Reader. She always worries about Spencer getting hurt because she feels she relies on him more than he does her.

Who initiates kisses? Who kisses the hardest?

Spencer to both. Reader would much rather tease him with the cold shoulder. She likes to feel desired.

Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Reader. Like she did in the story, she holds his hand whenever he gets anxious. The first time she does it for no reason he gets confused and points out that he’s happy. She responds, “Me too, that’s why I wanted to hold your hand.” It makes him even happier.

Who wakes up first?

Reader. She blames how much coffee he drinks. She’s a morning person.

Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Spencer. She brings him coffee in bed to get him up. Only works like half the time

Who says I love you first?

She does. Since she made Spencer admit to liking her first, she only thought it was fair. He was relieved, because he was scared to tell her (he didn’t want to rush anything).

What would be their theme song?

Body & Soul by Billie Holiday! The song Ethan sang. He picked it because he could tell the two of them were clearly pining for the other.

Thank you again for all the questions! If you have any others, please feel free to join us on the Discord!

#headcanons #writing #reid request #answer #answered

90 notes · View notes

cicada-bones · 3 years

Text

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 15: The Healers

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Days passed, and the rhythm of them was strange, off-kilter. But not unwelcome.

Rowan and the princess no longer sat in silence on the ridge each day. While they didn’t fill entire afternoons with conversation, speech flowed much more freely between them now. Something had changed. Something imperceptible, but vital.

Yet still, her shifting remained elusive.

Those iron bars remained rigid, locked tight. Fear either had no effect or shut her down completely, anger just made her impossible to deal with, and if these weeks had accomplished nothing else, they had shown that she was completely unable to find any peace within herself. She still couldn’t accept her own identity, and Rowan had run out of ways to try to force her to.

The three times she had managed to make the shift had been when Rowan bit her, when they faced the skinwalkers, and her complete loss of control when faced with the dark creature. The only time she’d even gotten close to control had been with the skinwalkers, but as Rowan had no interest in putting either of them in mortal danger again, that wasn’t a particularly helpful insight.

However, there was one more thing he thought he could try. The girl was the heir to two mighty bloodlines, descendant to Brannon and Mab. She wasn’t only blessed with fire magic, but also water. Perhaps there was someone else close by who could help him.

It was a fifteen mile walk to the healers’ compound. Fifteen there, and fifteen back. Thirty miles, all at a mortal pace. This had better be worth it.

Rowan had visited the compound nearly as often as Mistward, checking in with the Head Healer and the soldiers stationed there, picking up reports, and distributing orders from Maeve. The camp lay on the border of Maeve’s lands and the mortal kingdom to the north, where both human and Fae peoples could reach them. As a result, while it was mostly populated by Fae or demi-Fae, humans could often be seen within the keep, both gifted and mortal alike.

It was where Malakai and Emrys sent those who were injured but could still travel, where anyone within several dozen miles would try to go if they were sick or hurt. Therefore, Rowan didn’t only want to ask after the princess – he also needed to find out if any other demi-Fae had escaped the clutches of the dark creature, and come here for treatment. Or if the healers here had found any bodies of their own. Perhaps Rowan could solve both of his problems at once.

The Head Healer at this particular camp was an old female named Namonora. He’d met her numerous times over the years, had even been treated by her, though that had been long ago, and wasn’t a time he recalled with much grace. Though he knew that she was kind, ancient and wise. A good female, who didn’t use her power or influence to manipulate, the way so many immortals did. She was not one to waste time playing games – not when lives could be on the line. It was quality Rowan appreciated. Particularly considering what he was about to ask of her.

While it was a hospital, the fort also served as a school, and a home to the many Fae who lived, worked, and taught here. So all kinds of people bustled about, carrying books and papers, cloths and bandages, stringing children along at their heels or crying quietly in out-of-the-way corners. It was a place filled with life and death and noise, and so while the wild princess’ eyes immediately lit up upon their arrival, Rowan was somewhat uncomfortable in the chaos.

He soon left the girl to wander the grounds and went off to find the Head Healer. It didn’t take long. Namonora was in the thick of things, instructing a pupil on the correct way to set a broken limb while watching over another as they applied a poultice to a daunting gash, then began to stitch the gruesome wound closed.

He quietly approached, not wanting to disturb any of the healers, but Namonora’s clever eyes soon took notice of him. She pulled aside another senior healer to fill her place and walked over to meet him.

“Prince Whitethorn. Greetings.”

Rowan inclined his head, “May we speak, somewhere out the way?”

She nodded, striding quickly into the hall and towards a small, empty office. As they entered, Rowan quickly shut the door with a gust of wind. Namonora turned her sharp gaze back on him, raising her eyebrows in a silent inquiry.

Rowan answered her unasked question, with only a slight hesitation. “I’m currently stationed at Mistward, and recently four dead demi-Fae have been found near the fortress. Has word of this reached you?” His voice felt colder than usual, icy at the inconvenience of having to ask for the old healer’s help.

Namonora’s wrinkled face fell, her lily-and-mint-and-rain flavored scent darkening with sorrow. “Yes, Malakai sent word, a few weeks past. I had not heard that the numbers had gotten so high, however.”

“Did he mention the circumstances of their deaths?”

“No – I didn’t realize there was anything to mention.” Her clever eyes glanced over him as she spoke, efficiently assessing. But not in the way of a warrior – in the way of a healer. Her gaze didn’t pierce, only searched. Evaluating a patient. Rowan wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she saw in his hard features.

His jaw tightened. “All four were drained of life, and left as withered husks. There were no marks on them, besides dried blood around their mouths and ears.”

“The skinwalkers? I heard they are beginning to leave their mountain haunts.”

“No this is something different.”

The healer slipped into some hidden, calculating part of herself. “You said ‘withered.’ What does that mean, exactly?”

“Their skin was dried and wrinkled, far beyond the reach of their age. It was almost as though they had been left in the desert sun for weeks on end – only none had decomposed beyond a few days. Both scavengers and bugs avoided them, which was inconspicuous in itself. And there was this…smell. That covers them. Not only death, but the scent of the creature that killed them.”

“So you are sure that they were killed – and did not die of disease or another health problem? Sometimes, overuse of magic can cause victims to contort in strange ways.”

Rowan shook his head, saying, “I am sure that it wasn’t a series of burnouts, I could recognize that easily. And I doubt a disease – ”

“Would be able to kill people in such a strange grouping,” the healer interrupted, nodding at him, “All demi-Fae, all scattered throughout the wild, no other cases outside these four, and a very quick onset – death would have been almost immediate. And for a health problem, such as a new kind of blood infection or tumor, to take four completely separate individuals, all under such strange circumstances, is so unlikely as to be functionally impossible.”

Rowan nodded in agreement. Those were the conclusions he had drawn as well.

“Still…” the healer mused, “It is hard to be sure. Would it perhaps be possible for a victim to be brought to us for examination, should another be found? We can investigate the body and discover beyond doubt what the cause of death actually was.”

“Of course.” Rowan’s voice was dark as he mentally kicked himself, he should have thought of that weeks ago.

Namonora nodded, her lips tightening. “Still, I hope that we do not hear from each other again. I would rather this remain a mystery forever than for another Fae to suffer this fate.”

Rowan dipped his head.

“Do you have any ideas about the culprit, Prince? Is it perhaps some new immortal foe, or just another powerful Fae who has lost their way?”

Rowan hesitated, unsure. “I think…there is a chance that I saw the creature. The scent was similar. I never got a close look at it, but the female I was traveling with did. She described it as looking like a man, with eyes that were completely black. It created this cloud of darkness, so deep that I couldn’t see her within it. When she finally escaped, she was different. Pale, and sickly. Afterwards, she said that the creature made her relive her worst memories. All the bodies died with expressions of pure terror on their faces as well. It’s almost as though the creature kills through fear itself.”

Namonora’s frown deepened. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

“And no one has come to the fortress bearing a similar story?”

“None. I would remember. Anyone who met this dark creature either did not come here, or did not survive their encounter.”

Rowan nodded gruffly, his jaw tightening.

The ancient healer’s face turned towards the window, looking out over the grounds where Rowan could just barely see the princess. She was walking among an arrangement of tents, following a group of pupils as they made their rounds through the sick. Namonora’s brow furrowed, her scent filling up with fear and anxiety as she looked over all these people who were now in danger, people who she was responsible for.

Who he was responsible for.

Namonora turned back to look at him, her old eyes shrewd and thoughtful. “I have heard tales from long ago, ancient stories of creatures from the deep dark. Beings that fled from the wars of other worlds, and slipped past the watchful eyes of Mala and Deanna and all the other gods of this realm.” Her voice was soft, as if she called the words up from deep within. “They are darkness made flesh – said not to bleed, not to hurt, not to die. They are evil, and Maeve protects us from them with her own dark magics.”

Rowan almost shook his head at the old healer. He had heard many such stories – they were fireside tales, fabricated from encounters with much more ordinary foes like the barrow wights and skinwalkers, and then stretched beyond reality and into that nebulous range of myth and legend. Maeve may even have even invented them in order to solidify her standing among the Fae, where the peoples’ fear of her could easily turn from respectful into hateful.

But then Namonora continued. “More and more often, we receive patients from the west, and they bear news of things stirring there. Old things. Perhaps now they have come east.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Where have you heard this.”

“A few weeks past, a traveler from the Red Desert. She would not tell us any specifics, but she spoke of things, dark things, rising in the south. And then another, from the Dead Islands, bearing the same news.”

“Adarlan?”

“Perhaps. And yet, perhaps not.”

Rowan shook his head slowly. It was hearsay, nothing else. “Regardless, the creature is here, whether it came from the west or down from the mountains or from deep within the eastern caves.”

Namonora nodded, spooling herself back into the confident leader she had been only a few moments before. “I wish you luck on your search, Prince. I will let you know if any come bearing news of the creature, though I am sorry that I cannot be of much more help.”

She turned to leave, thinking the matter settled. But Rowan held out his hand for her to stop, forced to halt her retreat. He was not done.

“There’s something else. This isn’t the real reason I was stationed at Mistward.” The healer cocked her head, Rowan’s stomach sank. “Maeve has asked me to train a demi-Fae female in her power, and I’ve been having some…difficulty…in helping her access her shifting.” Rowan tried to hide his reluctance to ask for help, but doubted he succeeded. This ancient healer had been teaching for far too long not to see right past his defenses.

“Are you asking after my medical or educational expertise?” Namonora’s sharp gaze roved over him once again, reassessing, her eyes glinting with the gathered knowledge.

“Perhaps both. The girl is stubborn, and has some kind of…block. Between her and her power.”

“Hmm.” The corners of the healer’s lips curved into a small frown as she considered his words. She turned to look out the window once again, only this time her eyes sought out the princess. The girl was now speaking with a woman who was sitting on a cot, her arm in a sling. The woman laughed at something, while the princess responded with a small smile, the warmest Rowan had yet seen her give, though her eyes were still dark. Seeing her there, among others of her like, made Rowan feel more alone than he had in weeks.

“Are you asking on her behalf, or yours, Prince?” The healer’s question startled him, and Rowan turned to face her, only just now realizing that Namonora had been observing him watching the princess. “It is possible that the girl isn’t trying, that she doesn’t want to make the shift at all. Doesn’t want to train, to become a warrior. Perhaps this life,” she looked pointedly at Rowan, “is not what she wants for herself.”

His voice was tight, “The girl is already a warrior, so she has no other life to choose from, and she’s not unwise enough to drag this out on purpose – she knows that she’s entered into an agreement that she cannot break.”

Namonora’s lips tightened, and she nodded. While she lived in the outskirts of Maeve’s kingdom, away from her court, the healer was not oblivious to her ways. Though she respected Maeve, she did not love her.

So instead of pressing, she just said, “Shifting involves the piercing of the veil that separates the two forms of the soul, Fae and animal. To shift, one needs to find the peace within themselves, to fully inhabit the one form, and so, travel into the other. I am sure that you know this.”

Rowan nodded, a quick jerk of his head.

“There are some physical maladies that can prevent the shift, but they are very, very rare. It’s much more likely that the girl has some kind of emotional imbalance, or residual trauma, that is making it difficult for her to access her other form. All work through such things in their own way, and at their own pace. There is a chance that the female will never be able to overcome this barrier, and will always feel its effects.” Namonora’s eyes found Rowan’s. “There is not much one can do to help, besides provide support, and attempt not to add to their burden.”

Rowan almost snorted – he didn’t think he’d met anyone less in need of coddling than that girl. She could handle her ego all by herself. But the healer’s gaze did not leave his, seeking to communicate something further, something without words. And it set his teeth on edge.

There were precious few Fae that did not know Rowan’s history, and Namonora was not one of them. She had been the one who healed him after Maeve pulled him from his years of aimless wandering. Had helped restore his body from the weak, half-starved mess he had been. She knew very well what had caused him to become the cold, hard male that sat before her. Perhaps that was why she found it easier to deal with him than so many others.

Rowan could feel his muscles tense as the silence lengthened, but the wise female did not pursue the matter. “May I pass on some good, general advice?” she asked softly.

Rowan nodded slowly, while the healer’s minty scent enveloped him, her green eyes still on his.

“People tend to learn better when you align their own motivations with that which you are trying to instill in them. Discover what emotions drive this female, discover what she wants. And use that to help guide her shift.”

Rowan’s lips tightened as he nodded once again.

“Blocks in magic are mental, and therefore emotional. The female will not truly be able to overcome this challenge until she overcomes whatever created it. But still, if you find what drives her, what spurs her to action, you may find her a path over, or around the block.” Namonora seemed to look right through him, pushing aside his barriers and digging right into the truth. “But it will not go away on its own. She must face it, and only then will she be able to find the peace.”

Rowan absolutely could not escape the impression that the healer wasn’t only talking about the princess anymore. An impression that was solidified with the female’s parting words.

“And Prince?” She seemed to hesitate momentarily, then said, “You cannot atone forever. Do not let your grief destroy what remains of your life – there is hope still, hope for a brighter future. Do not let that spark go out.”

Rowan’s jaw clenched tight, and he left the office without another word, the force of the healer’s gaze burrowing a hole into his retreating back.

She was wrong. There was no hope for him. He had been left completely alone, to fill the aching chasm in his chest with a feeble oath to a dark queen. But as Rowan rounded a corner, and the princess came into view, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps he wasn’t as alone as he used to be. That perhaps the spark the healer had spoken of did not belong to him, but to her.

And it was his responsibility that it did not go out. That instead, it flourished.

···

Rowan arrived back at the fortress that evening to the news that another body had been found. The girl had already returned to her room when Rowan met Malakai in the kitchens, where the two males were speaking quietly before the hearth.

Rowan barely caught the words, “I’m so worried, Emrys – ” before the males took notice of him, and they broke apart. Malakai’s face was grave as he relayed the information, his scent filled with sorrow and anger. Emrys stood by quietly, supporting his mate while stirring something fragrant on the fire.

This report was no different than all the others – an unknown demi-Fae male was found dumped in the wilderness – only this time the intelligence came from a scout stationed at another fortress almost forty miles to the southwest. The body was emaciated, near water, and only a few miles from the sea. The neighboring fortress then sent a missive to Malakai, having received his warning, with the location of the body and a promise to continue to apprise Mistward of any further discoveries.

Rowan then informed Malakai of the news he had gathered from the healer’s compound, and of Namonora’s request to see one of the bodies. Luckily, the healers’ fort was closer to the new body site than Mistward, meaning that whoever moved the body of the demi-Fae would only have to ferry it three or so miles through the wilderness, instead of nearly twenty or thirty – a much more manageable task. Malakai promised he would dispatch a pair of sentries, with orders to purchase a wagon in a nearby town, after Rowan had a chance to visit the site.

Even so, Malakai’s scent was permeated with sorrow and anger and shame – just as Rowan did, Malakai felt responsible for every day that passed while they failed to capture the creature, and to protect the fortress and its neighboring lands. That was their purpose – and the more weeks that passed, the higher the death count grew, the greater their shame.

And so, before he departed the kitchen and left the two males alone to comfort each other, Rowan said, “Malakai, I – ” He paused, and huffed a sigh, then shook his head. The words were dead things in his mouth.

Rowan wanted…not to thank the male, but to say that he understood. That he also would fight for the fortress, and the people within it. But the words would not come, and so instead he just said, “We will visit the body tomorrow, if you send the sentries around midafternoon you should miss us.”

“So Elentiya will go as well, Prince?” Emrys asked.

Rowan nodded and left the kitchens without another word.

But then he reconsidered – the site was over twenty miles to the southwest, much too far to travel on foot with the princess. Even if she miraculously managed to shift, the distance was a lot for a young demi-Fae. Forty miles in a single day would take up nearly half their time, and that was if she was in her Fae form. Which was far from assured.

But the body was very close to a seaside village, and the girl was right – there was a high probability that the townspeople knew something. It was hard to believe that creature could travel so widely without being spotted, especially since they had already seen it, and escaped once, and at the time they hadn’t even been looking for it. Such a strange being would surely be a source of gossip in a slow, sleepy village so far from the capital.

But it was very unlikely that they would talk to Rowan. The humans of Wendlyn tolerated Fae, mostly out of necessity. They would not trust him, or deign to speak with him except for under the direst circumstance. For too long, malicious Fae had taken advantage of the mortals of Wendlyn, using their superior strength to take what they wanted with little to no consequences. While Rowan, and others among Maeve’s court, had taken it among themselves to punish such rogues, their effort had on the whole been too little, too late. It would take many more centuries for trust and camaraderie to return between the two peoples, if then.

And Rowan was hardly a mild or approachable example of his race. He was just too powerful; the mortals would likely run in the other direction if he arrived asking questions about a strange creature that was killing demi-Fae down the western coast. So he needed the girl. A mortal asking questions would be easier for them to bear, even if she was unlikely to be particularly courteous. Though she had done well with the people in the healer’s fort – perhaps a new wave of politeness and contrition would overtake the girl. Though he doubted it.

He would have to take the girl. They could camp overnight, giving her a chance to rest between journeys, but there was no way that the girl could make it without shifting. Tomorrow, Rowan would have to see if the healer’s advice had any merit.

···

Rowan didn’t bother going to the kitchens to wait for the girl that morning, instead he went straight for her rooms, carrying a small pack with overnight supplies. The princess was already gone, but she soon reappeared, still chewing her breakfast. Her eyes were brighter than usual, their golden core molten and swirling.

He held the pack open for her, “Clothes.” She grabbed an extra shirt and some underclothes from her bed and stuffed them into the pack, and Rowan shouldered it. She looked surprised at the move – perhaps she had assumed that she was to be pack mule for their journey. But Rowan wanted her in the best possible mood this morning if he was going to try to convince her to shift.

They left the fortress in silence, heading through the misty trees towards the west and out through the ward-gate. Once they passed through the invisible barrier, the magic softly pulsing over his skin, Rowan stopped. He turned to the princess, pulling off his hood and saying, “Shift, and let’s go.”

The dancing in her eyes grew even more playful, though she still did not smile. “And here I was, thinking we’d become friends.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows, friends? But instead of questioning the princess, he just gestured at her to shift and said, “It’s twenty miles.” Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and he gave her a wicked grin in response. “We’re running. Each way.”

Although that now-familiar trepidation coursed through her scent, she didn’t give it one inch, instead saying, “And where are we going?” with exactly the usual level of insolence.

His jaw clenched involuntarily, but not at the girl’s rudeness – at the news he had to deliver. “There was another body – a demi-Fae from a neighboring fortress. Dumped in the same area, same patterns. I want to go to the nearby town to question the citizens, but …” his mouth tightened at having to admit this. “But I need your help. It’ll be easier for the mortals to talk to you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

He just rolled his eyes. Rowan understood the arrogance, though he didn’t have to like it. The girl was all ego. “Shift, or it’ll take us twice as long.”

“I can’t. You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“Don’t you want to see how fast you can run?” Rowan certainly did. The princess was small, but her muscles were lithe and strong. In her Fae form, she could even prove as powerful as any within Maeve’s warrior-court. And Namonora had said to motivate her to shift by aligning it with her own desires – perhaps her arrogance would prove helpful.

But instead of rising to the challenge, or even feeling some level of curiosity, the girl’s scent filled with despondence. “I can’t use my other form in Adarlan anyway, so what’s the point?”

He frowned at her. “The point is that you’re here now, and you haven’t properly tested your limits. The point is, another husk of a body was found, and I consider that to be unacceptable.”

Her scent shifted into a coppery mix of sorrow, and anger. She wasn’t heartless, surely she understood the necessity of finding the creature – perhaps he could work with that instead. Before, she had shifted to protect him from danger, to prevent his death. Maybe she could shift for the same reasons now, only without an imminent threat pressing upon them.

Rowan knew that she wasn’t scared, but still he said, “Unless you’re still frightened,” and pulled on the end of her braids. As he had suspected, the gesture pulled her anger to the surface, her nostrils flaring.

She snarled, “The only thing that frightens me is how very much I want to throttle you.”

But her anger at him had never been helpful, had only distracted her. He needed to take that anger and push it into something more productive – an anger on behalf of others instead of on behalf of herself. That could be the key.

So as that fury continued to roil and twist in her scent, Rowan said, “Hone it – the anger.” The scent of ashes and burning jasmine grew stronger by the second. “Let it be a blade, Aelin. If you cannot find the peace, then at least hone the anger that guides you to the shift. Embrace and control it – It is not your enemy.”

“This will not end well,” she breathed.

Fear began to eat away at the fury in her, but he did not let up. She was so close. “See what you want, Aelin, and seize it. Don’t ask for it; don’t wish for it. Take it.”

“I’m certain the average magic instructor would not recommend this to most people.” Her mouth was set, protesting to the last. But he could tell that she was beginning to relent – somewhere, she knew that she had to accept this part of herself, that she had no choice but to concede.

“You are not most people, and I think you like it that way. If it’s a darker set of emotions that will help you shift on command, then that’s what we’ll use. There might come a day when you find that anger doesn’t work, or when it is a crutch, but for now…” he paused. “It was the common denominator those times you shifted – anger of varying kinds. So own it.”

She looked at him for a moment, then took a long breath. And another. And another. Aelin turned deep within, anchoring herself, searching, hunting –

Then, discovery: she brushed against that shimmering veil and this time she didn’t hesitate before punching through the barrier and into her other form. Canines shot out, points grew from her ears, and a bright light flashed as she completed the shift.

Rowan couldn’t help but grin as Aelin’s scent washed over him, stronger and more familiar in this form. Jasmine and lemon verbena and dancing flames, so much more potent now than even a few moments ago.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and Rowan moved, darting to her side and pulling her braid again. She whirled, but he was already gone, pinching her other side. She yelped, “Stop – ” and he was back in front of her, a wild invitation in his eyes.

He wanted to see her move, wanted to see her run – loose and free. He could still sense the cage; it was like she’d temporarily picked a lock, the bars were still waiting for her to return into their clutches. But for now, Aelin Galathynius stared back at him, completely free for the first time since he had met her. And he wanted to play.

Rowan shot left, but before he could pinch her other side she moved, faster than ever before, and slammed down on his arm with an elbow and whacking him upside the head with her other hand.

The hit didn’t hurt, but it surprised him so much that he stopped dead, blinking in shock. Aelin’s scent filled up with satisfaction as she smirked up at him, her new fangs glinting. He bared his teeth right back at her. “Oh, you’d better run now.” And he lunged, but before he could reach her, she turned and shot through the trees to the southwest.

He followed, slow and steady, waiting for her to find her pace as she leaped over fallen logs and ducked beneath low-hanging branches. Her anger simmered away, giving over to a wild abandon as she bounded through the underbrush, her body lithe and capable and as wild as the flames that pulsed from her, barely contained by her small form.

It was so similar to exercises he had done countless times, training faceless thousands, and yet it was completely different. Before, the run had been a necessity – a way to develop strength and stamina, or a method to maintain them. Now, the run was almost…enjoyable.

The pleasure of her freedom leaked over into his own body, and he could feel the absence of Aelin’s cage almost as acutely as she could. Her newfound liberty was intoxicating, and he could feel his own walls melting, the ice leaking from his limbs as he embraced her wildness. Rowan couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to feel such freedom, the last time he smiled from enjoyment. Now he found he couldn’t turn away from it.

Quickly, too quickly, she began to speed up, getting faster and faster until they were hurtling together through the trees. Every time Rowan drew close – either to poke her or pull her braids or tackle her, he did not know – Aelin would veer away, a golden streak among the oaken boughs.

After a few minutes, they hit a plateau, the ground flattening and hardening and becoming easy beneath their feet, a welcoming carpet rolled out to greet them. And suddenly, Aelin was flying. Her hair whipped out behind her in a golden ribbon, her simple, bright clothing a streak of light and color as she sprinted over the grasses.

Gods, she was fast. Fast as any of them in their Fae forms. Rowan no longer had to alter his pace, and his limbs began to stretch, his stride lengthening until the pair of them were running together, both free and unrestrained.

Aelin dodged a tree, throwing herself between two hanging branches, and she let out a whoop of delight. Her scent began to overwhelm him, each note burning with a happiness he had never sensed in her before. It was so vibrant, so different from her usual scent, that it startled him. He hadn’t understood how angry she had always been until he finally caught a glimpse of her scent that was completely pure.

And it bit at him, ate at him, poked and prodded and stirred him until he couldn’t stop himself shooting after her, lunging with a snap of his teeth. She dodged, and he lunged again, this time moving to run at her side.

Her face was open, her eyes shining with that same feral contentment he could feel pulsing through his own veins. And it was like seeing her for the first time. He had known she was good-looking, had understood that objectively, her sharp, clear features were pretty and striking. But he had not noticed how truly attractive she was until that moment.

Aelin was beautiful.

And together they flew, silver and gold streaks piercing through the lonely mists.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#WatE repost

12 notes · View notes