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[lostinwonderland314]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

The Epilogue ⭐︎ We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we made

Warnings: none really, fluff, lots and lots of fluff, pregnancy, a little (or not so little) time jump, dad!Steve, pregnant!reader, the 'teens' are in their early twenties, proofread but... poorly, please ignore any mistakes

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5.1k+

Author's note: This is it, friends. The story is done (sob), I'm so grateful for everyone who supported this story, who commented and filled my inbox with sweet asks, I appreciate every single one of you ♡ and @hellfire--cult my love, thank you for working on this story with me, I had the best time working on all these chapters with you, I love u

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

“Lego Head!” 

Steve comes scrambling down the stairs, panic in his eyes at the sound of your cry, his heart pounding with worry but also with fear at the frustration in your voice. 

He nearly slips on the hardwood floor as he rounds the corner into the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower he just took after he hurried home from work. He wanted to clean the kitchen and get started on dinner before you got home but time wasn’t on his side today. 

Steve doesn’t know whether he should smile out of adoration or tremble in fear at the sight of his pregnant wife, fuming at the unwashed dishes in the sink. 

You look so cute, no matter the mood you are in, you are just so goddamn cute, standing in your sundress, hand over your belly, wedding ring shining under the golden light of the evening sun. The frown on your face is adorable as you stare at him with furrowed brows and downturned lips. His heart flutters so wildly in his chest, after years of marriage and kids, his feelings only intensified, they kept growing, his love deepening more and more, each passing day with you. He is so damn lucky. 

He approaches you, glancing at the dishes he couldn’t get his hands on yet, he grabs your waist and pulls you closer, “I’m sorry, baby, I was gonna do them after the shower, I just got home from work–”

Your sniffle cuts him off and he instantly stops talking when he sees the tears in your eyes, your lips moving into a pout, guilt crossing your face as you stare at your loving husband. 

“I’m sorry! – I know you’re tired–”

“No, no, don’t cry sweetheart, I know you had a hard day too.”

“No, I snapped at you, I’m–”

Steve can’t help but smile softly as he shakes his head, cupping your cheeks softly, he leans in and presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly, taking your mind off the dishes that drove your hormones insane. 

A sigh of contentment falls from your lips, your eyes flutter shut and you melt so softly into him, placing one hand on his cheek, his stubble scratching against your palm. His scent, his body wash filling your senses and making your stomach flutter, making you feel at peace.

Steve smiles into the kiss as he feels himself calming down after the stressful day at work, your touch always brings him down, no matter how hectic and how bad a day has been, he always looks forward to coming home. 

When you part from the kiss, your husband nuzzles your nose, making you giggle through the tears that sparked in your eyes. He tucks your hair behind your ears and places his large hand on your belly, his eyes glowing with nothing but love and happiness. 

“Hi darling,” he whispers, greeting you properly now, he murmurs against your lips, kissing you once more. 

“Hi Stevie, I missed you,” you whisper, pouting at him in a way that nearly brings him to his knees. 

The smile never leaves his lips, his heart never stops to flutter. He kneels down and kisses your belly, whispering sweet nothings to his little princess. 

You run your fingers through his wet hair, gazing down at him, your heart swells in your chest. 

After running errands all morning and noon, you stopped by his workplace and he took you out for lunch at your favorite diner, he got you dessert too, even though it wasn’t for you as you had claimed but for the growing princess in your belly – he watched with adoration how you devoured that ice cream with such pleasure, just the way you do every night, when you’re both already in bed and a sudden craving of yours, has him jumping out of bed and tiptoeing down the stairs to get you whatever you or your little princess are asking for. 

He remembers it like it was yesterday, when you announced your first pregnancy, he was so clueless and confused when you kissed him goodnight and turned your back to him, when usually, you would snuggle against him, nuzzle your nose into his neck and hold onto him tightly. He was a little hurt, even, thinking he had done something wrong to have you facing away from him but when he slid his hand under his pillow while he was staring at the back of your head and he felt something lying beneath, he furrowed his brows for a different reason as he felt the plastic touching his fingers, when he pulled it out and held it before his face, his eyebrows shot up, his eyes widened and a gasp threatened to fall from his lips as his heart started pounding wildly, excitement and giddiness settling in his stomach. 

He needed to be one hundred percent sure that he was seeing correctly, so he turned on the light again, reached for the glasses he hated wearing so much, he didn’t even notice how you looked back at him with a soft smile on your face, he was too in shock about the two lines staring back at him. He knew what it was, he knew what it meant but he still needed the confirmation. 

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice shaky from the uncontainable excitement. He slowly turned towards you after he ripped the covers off himself, he placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you around, “darling, light of my life, my gorgeous wife, Blondie– please tell me that this is what I think it is,” he begged, eyes pleading as they stare at you with such love. 

The smile on your face, the tears in your eyes that were matching his own were enough of an answer but you nodded and whispered a soft ‘yes’, nonetheless. 

“You’re– You’re pregnant?” He whispered, eyes glossy and filled with a softness that had you trembling with emotions. “We’re having a baby?” He asked as his eyes flickered to your stomach that was covered by his shirt on your body, he slowly placed his hand on your belly, while still holding the pregnancy test with shaky hands. 

You answered by placing your hand on top of his, nodding again with a happy tear running down your cheek, one that he kissed away in an instant before he wrapped you in his arms, hugging you tighter than he ever has before as tears of happiness cascaded down his own cheeks while you both giggled. 

“Yes, Stevie, we’re having a baby,” you said softly, kissing his neck as he buried his face in yours, hand still lingering over your belly, protectively. 

He cried, he cried from joy and from love, he could not contain the excitement he was feeling. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, he wanted it from the moment you became his girl. But you both waited, waited for the perfect moment – you enjoyed your time alone with each other, you traveled around the country, stayed in your favorite cities, you spent a summer in Italy, just the two of you. 

You got married pretty early on in your relationship, you both knew what you wanted, there was no point in waiting to put rings on each other’s fingers but you decided to wait with kids, well, Steve was open to having them from the start, but you weren’t ready until about three months ago – the moment you have told him that you were off birth control, he pounced on you, ready to take you in every way possible, and he did, he did it a lot, not only that night, but all the following days and weeks, he took you absolutely everywhere, at any time. You thought that he was intense before but what followed after you told him that you were ready, topped everything that you had done in the past. 

He kissed your neck, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, he covered your whole face in kisses before his lips touched your own, he made you both giggle. “I love you, baby, I love you so fucking much,” he mumbled against your lips as his tears fell down on you, his soft eyes gazed into your own as his hand cradled your belly. 

“I love you, Stevie,” you whispered and brushed your fingers through his messy hair, adoring the way the glasses adorned his pretty face. 

More giggles fell from your lips when he started kissing down your body before he settled between your legs, lifting your shirt, he smiled before he pressed his lips to your belly, kissing it softly as he reached for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours, he looked up into your eyes, showing nothing but love for you. 

“Hey,” he whispered into your belly, “you’re probably the size of a pea right now and don’t understand a thing I’m saying.” 

His lips twitched at the sound of your sweet laughter, he squeezed your hand and held on tighter. 

“But hi, I’m your dad,” he whispered as another tear fell from his eye, nothing short of adoration for you and your baby, pride swelling in his chest the more reality was sinking in, “I can’t wait to meet you,” his voice getting higher, his heart beating faster, “and I love you and your mommy so much, sweetpea.” He spoke as he pressed another kiss upon your warm skin. 

There was no bump yet, but he already treated your belly like there was one, so much giddiness lingered in him at the thought of your future, of your growing family.

The family that he has now. 

“I missed you more, my love,” he smiles softly, feeling the urge to just lift you up into his arms and carry you up into your bedroom, get in bed with you and hold you in his arms. 

“Go lay down, I’m gonna get started on dinner.”

You place your hand over his, toying with his wedding ring. You shake your head, “I can help–”

“No, baby, my two girls need to rest,” he says, smiling as he rubs your belly. “Besides, Eddie is gonna be here soon with the–”

The door is banged open before he can even finish his sentence, startling you both before Eddie’s voice sounds through the hallway. 

“Children delivery!” 

Eddie steps into the kitchen, like he knew you’d both be here, carrying the two boys effortlessly, the older one of them on his shoulders and the other under his arms, already grinning at the sight of you.

“Daddy, Uncle Eddie taught me how to sword fight!” William exclaims, grinning proudly at his father while his little brother babbles away. 

“Uncwe Ewwie wade gookies!” Elliot smiles excitedly. 

Steve grins, eyes lighting up just the way yours do, you beam at your boys, smiling brightly as Eddie sets them down and they rush over to you, hugging your legs. You lean down and kiss their foreheads, brushing back William’s wild hair that resembles Steve’s so strongly, just like the hazel in his eyes. 

“Hi mommy,” he smiles at you before he kisses your belly, whispering a soft ‘hello’ to his sister as his brother imitates him, making you chuckle while your husband watches with adoring eyes. 

Steve crouches down to his boys and pulls them into his arms, making both of them giggle as he smacks his lips against their cheeks, greeting them cutely. 

Your best friend chuckles as he watches your youngest, how he wraps his arms back around your leg the moment Steve lets them both go, while William makes his way out of the room and brushes past Eddie, no doubt making his way upstairs into his room. 

“Did you bring us some of the cookies Uncle Eddie made?” You ask, smiling at your boy.

He shakes his head, pouting cutely as he looks between you and Steve, “I ate all gookies!” 

Chuckles fall from your and your husbands lips, sharing amused glances with one another before he leans down and picks up Elliot into his arms, tickling his belly, the little boy giggles loudly. 

“You ate all the cookies?” Steve gasps, beaming at his kid, “you’re the cookie monster, aren’t you?”

Elliot giggles and shakes his head at his dad. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie nods with raised eyebrows, stepping closer to the three of you, “he is a little cookie monster.” 

“No, Ewwie!” The little boy exclaims, hiding his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, yawning as he snuggles against his dad. 

Eddie laughs as he throws his arm around your shoulder, patting your belly softly, “alright alright, you’re not the cookie monster, buddy. But your sister is, your mom can eat a whole batch of cookies nowadays.”

Steve and Elliot giggle at Eddie’s words, while you glare at your best friend who grins at you, shrugging, “what? She has a sweet tooth, just like her mom.”

Eddie winks at you, the youthfulness still so deeply in his features, the playfulness in him still there, never leaving. His hair is just as long as it was years ago, if not longer, his band t-shirts still taking up most of the space in his closet, a few more rings adorn his fingers now, more tattoos on his arm and his chest, peeking out from beneath his shirt. 

“Mhmm,” your husband nods, smiling softly at you as he lets Elliot down when he starts wiggling with his feet, he runs out of the kitchen the moment his dad puts him down, following his brother upstairs. 

“Robin made you carrot cake, by the way, it’s in the fridge.” 

Your eyes widen, lighting up at his words. Your mouth waters instantly, stomach grumbling at the mention of your newest craving. 

Eddie chuckles at the expression on your face, the wide and excited eyes resembling the ones of a kid on christmas morning. 

“I’m gonna kiss Robin.”

“Uh oh,” Eddie laughs, staring at Steve who frowns at you playfully, “be careful, Harrington, Robin knows how to steal girls.” 

“Nobody is stealing my girl,” Steve shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your waist, he brings you closer and kisses your temple, “she’s mine.” 

You place your hand on your husband’s chest, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. 

“All yours, Lego Head.”

Eddie snorts at the nickname you have been using again lately, teasing Steve with it, every chance you get, but your husband only shakes his head with a smile on his face as his soft eyes gaze down into yours just as lovingly as they did back then, if not more. 

It’s been seven years, almost eight, that you and Steve had found your way to each other after denying the bond that had always been there, seven years of this, of lovesick smiles and a bond that is unexplainable to anyone who never experienced a love like yours. You and Steve share something otherworldly, almost like you were made for each other, like you were made with each other, you got something that nothing could ever come between, absolutely nothing, not even death – Eddie is convinced. 

Wherever one goes, the other will follow. 

He sees the love you share, he sees the way your eyes speak to one another, how sometimes, neither of you has to use words to know what the other wants or needs, there is an understanding between you, no matter what happens, no matter what is going on, no matter the peace or the distress in your lives, you got each other and as long as you do, you both will be okay. 

The vows you shared on your wedding day were nothing but truthful and honest words spoken from your hearts, your souls. No emptiness behind them, no promises to ever be broken but ones to keep not in force but in nature, nothing but love and adoration in your hearts for the other – maybe a slight possessiveness but only a healthy amount, a good kind. 

Yours and Steve’s wedding will always be something that Eddie looks back at with joy and humor because you weren’t freaking out, neither was Steve, you were both calm, both at peace, both giddy and excited for the day you had been waiting for. 

But Eddie, he was freaking out and so was Robin, both excited for their best friends but emotional at best. 

Eddie cried when he saw you in your dress, he walked you down the aisle with a blurry vision, tears he tried to blink away were falling. You and Steve giggled through your own tears at your best friend who placed your hand into your fiance’s palm like an emotional father, not ready to see his little girl on the altar. 

Eddie is so deeply lost in his thoughts as he stares at you both with a smile on his face, he doesn’t even hear the doorbell, only when you leave the kitchen, and Steve nudges his shoulder, does he snap out of it. 

“You tired from babysitting all day, Munson?” 

Eddie snorts, grumbling under his breath as he cracks his back. 

“You better not make me babysit six kids in the future, or I swear on my uncle–”

“You love my kids, Munson, stop whining.”

“That’s right, I bet my favorite one is gonna be the girl, I just know she’s gonna be a little rockstar, a metalhead like her favorite uncle,” Eddie grins proudly. 

Steve rolls his eyes, shaking his head in amusement. 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be her favorite?” He asks as he gestures to his boys running down the stairs when they both step into the hallway to see who rang the doorbell. 

“Max!” William smiles excitedly, running up to her to greet her, ready to talk her ear off about his day with Uncle Eddie. His brother giggles, throwing himself into Lucas’s arms who picks him up with a smile on his face. 

“Hey little Steve,” Lucas jokes as he ruffles Elliot’s hair, “how are you buddy?” 

Eddie sighs, placing his hand over his heart, a dramatic yet playful look residing on his face. 

“I thought I was the favorite.” 

Steve pats Eddie’s shoulder, “you’ll live.” 

“Hey red,” Eddie calls out to his ‘step’ sister who nods along to William’s words, a smile upon her face. “How’s little red holding up in there?” 

She scrunches her nose up, placing her hand on her small bump, “she’s making me nauseous.” 

Lucas nods with wide eyes, “mhm and very hangry.” 

Steve and Eddie chuckle while she glares at the three of them. 

“Don’t worry, the nausea will pass,” you assure her, knowing just how awful the nausea can be in the first few months, how the morning sickness can drive you up the wall. Steve knows it too, he found you crouched over the toilet one too many times but he had always done such a good job at taking care of you, always there to pull your hair out of your face and rub your back, even when you told him to get out of the room and save himself from seeing you that way, like he would ever leave you to deal with anything by yourself. – He cooked for you, even took it upon himself to learn how to bake to satisfy your cravings, he never came home empty handed, he still doesn’t, he does everything to sweeten your day, absolutely everything. Not because you’re asking for it, you never would, not because he feels like he has to, no, he wants to, he wants to see the smile on your face, he wants to love on you, he loves to spoil you. 

“Yeah, Blondie is the expert, she knows all about it, she’s only got like what? Three more pregnancies to go?” Your best friend cackles, making Steve’s cheek go red as the metalhead reminds him of the drunken night he told him that he would put six babies into you. 

Max and Lucas both chuckle while Steve groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You’re doing good with it so far, you’re already halfway through!” Lucas grins, wiggling his eyebrows between you and your husband, gesturing to your bump, while Elliot’s big eyes flicker back and forth curiously. 

“Daddy bought me a new skateboard!” William exclaims, tugging at Max’s hand as he completely ignores the conversation happening in the room. 

“He did?” Max smiles down at him. 

“Yeah! Let’s go!” He drags her away, excitedly, beckoning Lucas to come with him as well, to which he chuckles, still holding Elliot in his arms as he follows the little boy and his girlfriend, their voices echoing in the living room. 

Steve wears a smile on his lips, his eyes following them until they step out into the backyard. Tilting his head back to you, his eyes soften only further, he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way towards you, reaching his hand out to yours, he takes it softly and pulls you into his arms, kissing your temple, his chest flutters when he breathes in your sweet scent. 

A content sigh falls from your lips as you lean into your husband, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“Are you feeling alright, honey?” He murmurs, looking down at you with gentle eyes as his palm rubs your belly. 

“Yeah,” you smile, nuzzling further into him. 

“Right,” Eddie clears his throat, pretending to be annoyed by the affection you’re both displaying (constantly), “I’m gonna get going, I’m taking my honey out on a date.” 

“Ooh, where are you taking her?” You ask. 

“Nothing special, we’re going to the movies and then we’ll get some dinner at Enzo’s.”

“That’s nice, Eddie,” Steve shakes his head at him, any date, any moment is special when it’s spent with the right person, he knows it. 

“Yeah, I love a movie date and dinner!” 

Eddie chuckles at your enthusiasm, “yeah, you only do it like every week,” he huffs in amusement. 

“We love it,” Steve shrugs, looking down at you with loving eyes. 

“I know you do and well, I do too so I’m gonna go now,” Eddie says, patting Steve on his shoulder before he ruffles your hair and pinches your cheek, “take care of yourself, mama and listen to your hubby when he tells you to rest.” 

Steve chuckles at the way you slap your best friend’s hand away, glaring at him. 

“I get enough of rest–”

“No, you don’t, honey,” Steve shakes his head, “can’t rest for a single second, you always gotta do something.”

You pout at him, making his eyes soften only further. He leans down and presses his lips to yours before you can protest. 

“That’s my cue,” Eddie mumbles, he opens the front door, shouting a goodbye to the boys and to Max and Lucas. He winks at the both of you, grinning when you pull away from one another, “bye lovebirds, enjoy your free time while your two babysitters are keeping your nuggets busy.” He wiggles his brows and cackles, walking out of the door with an amused look on his face, he looks back one more time before he shuts the door, leaving you both to yourselves. 

Giggles and voices come from the garden, the sun is still high up in the sky, warmth seeping into the house through the open doors and windows. One peek out in the backyard, you can see William showing his newest tricks to Max while Elliot plays basketball with Lucas, squealing and giggling every time Lucas picks him up so he can shoot the ball into the net. 

“Hmm,” Steve hums with a smile on his face, positioning himself behind you, he wraps his arms around your waist, placing one hand under your belly and the other on top of yours, he leans down and props his chin up on your shoulder after kissing it, “let’s order dinner tonight and just relax.” 

You lean your head back against his chest, tilting your head to the side, you look up at him, eyes big and soft – something that still drives him crazy. 

“Relax?” You giggle when you see the smirk on his lips. 

He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing you softly, “I just want you all to myself for a moment, I missed you all day, darling.” 

Your eyelashes flutter, a sweet sigh falls from your lips when he continues to pepper your neck in kisses, you wrap your hand around his wrist, giving it a squeeze, “I missed you too, Stevie,” you whisper. 

“Ten minutes, baby, I want ten minutes with my beautiful wife,” he murmurs against your neck, sucking teasingly, making you melt into his arms further. 

Your heart flutters in your chest, a small but needy whine escapes you, “ten minutes,” you whimper.

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice, he smacks his lips against your skin once more before he turns you around and he cups your cheeks, leaning down, his nose touches yours, his lips brush against your own, “I love you so much, Blondie,” he teases you with the nickname before he kisses you softly, making you smile against him. 

You place your palm above his fluttering heart, resting your other on the back of his neck, “I love you so much, Lego Head,” you tease him back. 

He chuckles, leaning his forehead against yours, his soft eyes stare into yours lovingly. He reaches his hand up to your necklace, the one you haven’t taken off since he got it for you all these years ago. 

“Where are your glasses, honey?” You ask, sliding your hand from his neck to cup his cheek, thumb caressing his cheekbone. 

Steve scrunches his nose up, “I don’t like them.”

He didn’t even like the reading glasses he needed at first, he refused to wear them, claiming that he didn’t even need them. He was squinting his eyes like crazy, it was clear that he struggled to make out the words in the books he was reading, eventually he caved and started wearing them. 

But now he needs them for more than just reading and he hates it, he only puts them on when he’s driving and takes them off for everything else, throws them into the drawer in the nightstand and lets them sit there until he has to drive somewhere again. 

“Well, I think that you look very handsome wearing them,” you smile, licking your lips as your eyes flicker between his soft eyes and his very kissable mouth. “Very, very handsome,” you whisper and blink at him, innocently. 

Your husband smirks at the suggestive tone in your voice, his cheeks heat up, warmth surging through his body. 

“Oh, yeah? Well then, I gotta put them on for you… right now.” 

A squeal almost falls from your lips when he picks you up suddenly, carrying you up the stairs, bridal style, just like on the day you got married and just like on many occasions after. 

Steve kisses your cheek on the way up, grinning at you excitedly, lovingly. His heart swells when you hold onto him tighter, laying your head on his shoulder and nuzzling your nose into his neck. 

He adores you, he adores you so much, if his heart could explode from all the love he holds for you, then it would’ve burst by now. He always knew that he loved hard, before you got together, months and months after dating, but even now after so many years together, after creating this beautiful family, he keeps on falling, loving you harder, each day. 

It’s all he ever wanted. 

And you both had to go through such darkness to get here, he spent so many nights wondering if you’d both be here if things never happened the way they did, back then. – He hates to think of a life without you in it, he despises the thought with all his being. 

“Blondie?” He whispers after sitting down on your king sized bed, with you on his lap. 

“Yes?” Your voice is only above a whisper, soft and gentle. 

Steve grabs your chin tenderly, he looks into your loving eyes and smiles.

“I would go through it all again if it meant I’d get to be where I am, right now. I would go through the darkness, through Vecna, through the upside down… I would do it all over again if I’d get all this, you, in the end.” 

There are tears in his eyes and in yours, not of sadness, only of love. 

“I would do it all over again too, Stevie,” you whisper with no hesitation. 

“Yeah?” He asks softly, gazing at you with teary eyes. 

“Yeah,” you nod and lean your forehead against his, “anything for my love.”

His cheeks grow pink every time you call him that, heart beating wildly in his chest, he places his hand on your belly, stroking it softly. 

“Anything?”

“Mhmm, anything.”

“Be my forever,” he whispers softly, lips ghosting over yours in a smile, eyes big and sparkly – like you aren’t his forever already. 

“You already are, silly,” you peck his lips, making him grin against you, “you’re my forever.”

He cups your cheeks fully now, kissing you stronger and deeper, holding you like he will never let you go – and he won’t, he won’t ever let go. 

“And you are mine, Blondie.” Steve kisses you again and again. “My forever.”

It’s hard to believe you were once behind one of the mall’s pillars, hiding from his view, watching him serve ice cream in that stupid sailor outfit while you tried to earn up the courage to talk to him, to really talk to him for once in your life.

It’s hard to believe that he was once looking at you from afar, watching you walk through the hallways without glancing twice towards the same person, wishing you would look at him at least once.

Hard to believe that you two never realized you were performing a stupid dance, be it around each other or with each other for years and years, and now that dance is over. Is it? No. You are still dancing, but now, it’s synchronized, magnetized, and a dance that cannot be broken. 

A dance that now is shared with multiple people, with family you thought you would never have again, with family he thought he never deserved, with friends that stuck to you both like glue, and with your children that giggle every time you twirl around one another. 

But just because it is hard to believe, doesn’t mean that it would’ve never happened, that it shouldn’t have happened, that it wasn’t supposed to happen. You would have found your way to each other, even without the darkness that pushed you into each other’s arms, the darkness that allowed you to find the happiness and love that you share with each other now. 

Forever. And ever… And ever. In this universe, in the next, and the rest to come.

The End. 

♡

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @taintedcigs @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @thecreelhouse @maroon-cardigan @sherrylyn0628 @corrodedcorpses @munson-mjstan @moon-flowerrs @munsonlore @agirlwholovesrockstars

[lostinwonderland314]

honestly, it still hasn’t hit that we’re really getting more daredevil/karen/frank/punisher content. like….???? this is crazy?

[lostinwonderland314]

[lostinwonderland314]

You will never convince me they are not in love.

[lostinwonderland314]

KastleWeek

thursday, sept. 5 | forced proximity | the day of honesty

frank and karen being brought together in various situations where they can't just walk away, and are forced to confront their feelings.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know ('til the day that I die)

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone ('til the light leaves my eyes)

Can't change the weather, might not be forever ('til the day that I die)

But if it's forever, it's even better

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

@kastlenetwork

[lostinwonderland314]

Yours - 18+

Masterlist

Spencer never thought he’d be lucky enough to find you, but he has. You have all his devotion and all he hopes for in return is for you to let him stay yours.

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story contains strong themes and detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING: Smut: softdom! Spencer, grinding, hickies, penetration, PinV, unprotected sex (this can lead to babies & stds btw, avoid this by being fivehead and using a condom), creampie. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 5.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The question regarding the existence of soulmates is not a question that can be answered using science. Any individual’s answer to the question is more of a personal belief than a factual answer. And as a man of science, one would think that Spencer Reid would at least attempt to refute the ideology when asked. 

The ideology that he himself is not whole, but only half of an intertwined soul. That another person is not only his other half, but also his better half. Somebody with whom he shares such a natural, deep understanding, that he feels complete simply by existing in their presence. It’s one of those phenomena he can’t explain, but only this one, he’s confident is true. 

“Spence?” A light nudge accompanied by the whisper of his name breaks him away from his thoughts.

“Hm?” He blinks rapidly, focusing his eyesight on your curious face with a matching look.

The light from a singular bedside lamp only reaches half of his face. It casts a beautiful, soft contrast on his sharp features. The gold that’s usually hidden by the brown makes his irises look like sparkling pools of honey. Ethereal -not a word you would use when normally describing a man- but that’s how he looks. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” 

He hadn’t ever thought he could believe in such a thing. Mostly because he’d always been sure that he would never experience it. 

“Do you?” His voice carries your question back to you. 

You can hear the city buzzing outside. Cars honking angrily in a futile attempt to speed up the pace of the traffic. People conversing, arguing, laughing. Loud thuds of music from the upstairs neighbour who cares little about the piling noise complaints. Somehow, the hum of Spencer’s words is the only sound that your ears register. 

“I asked first.” You playfully scoff, breaking eye contact and swivelling your head straight.

Spencer mirrors your motions, both of you now facing the ceiling as you remain side by side on his bed. 

“Yes.” His answer is barely above a whisper. 

It seems that your bodies want to make up for lost contact. You can feel his pinky reaching out to touch yours as you meet him halfway. 

“Me too.” 

A comfortable silence takes over the conversation. Everything feels still. The only movement is that of his fingers grazing against yours. He’s touched you in far more personal places tonight alone, and this is still one of your most intimate moments. There are no expectations or hidden agendas. This is simply the two of you existing in each other's presence; his preferred way to exist. It stretches until another inane question makes its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Do you ever wonder if you’ll get to meet them in this lifetime?” 

He pushes his frame up and rotates to face you as he sinks back down to the mattress. His head rests on the arm folded below it. You turn your head back to him so that you’re both holding eye contact again. 

“No.” He mouths the answer, his voice hesitant to raise at first. “I wonder whether mine is a romantic bond or platonic.” 

Your stomach flutters at the insinuation and you shift to mirror his position this time. In the midst of shuffling, the two of you seem to have closed a good chunk of the distance between you. 

“What do you want it to be?” You whisper, entranced by his gaze. 

Two of his knuckles lightly skim your cheek before those fingers brush your hair away from you. The act alone is enough to make your face heat up, no matter how many times he’s done it before. He begins to lazily stroke your hair, scratching your head in the process. It gives you the same tingling sensation you get from some rare ASMR videos. 

You don’t follow up on your question, unable to remember anything that was on your mind beforehand. His touch, combined with the minimal lighting and close proximity provides you with a sense of security you rarely feel otherwise. Your lids begin to grow heavy and you're forced to break eye contact when the weight of them becomes too much. 

“That’s really distracting y’know.” You mumble, eyes closed and voice hazy. 

“I know.” He mutters, almost without sound. 

He can’t help his smile as he watches you drift to sleep. He’s studied every feature on your face at least a hundred times and he’s yet to find a single flaw. The fact that you’re okay with being this vulnerable with him is a privilege that he’ll thank any and every deity he doesn’t even believe in for. Faint snoring indicates that you’re now dead to the world, but he can’t let your previous question go unanswered. 

“Whichever one allows me to be yours forever.”

Waking up to the warmth of your body pressed against his is by no means a recent development in your relationship with Spencer. Your back is to his chest and his arm is draped across your stomach, trapping you against him. Not that you mind. You’ve been lying still as you are for almost a while now, your thumb caressing the side of his wrist. With a yawn nuzzled into your neck, Spencer attempts to pull you closer to him, closing distance that was never there to begin with. 

He can feel the rise and drop of your chest; you can feel the beating of his heart behind yours. Neither of you is fully awake yet, opting to enjoy the silence and comfort of the other's presence. Your bodies are so closely tangled that your skin is almost melding with each other. 

Almost. 

The unexpected brushing of his hardness against your ass sends a jolt of electricity passing through you, waking you up in an instant. If it were anybody else, perhaps you would’ve felt ashamed of how that passing moment made your insides jump. You definitely wouldn’t have arched your barely clothed cunt towards the obstruction. A sharp exhale fans across the back of your neck, and you can practically feel the corners of his lips pull into a lazy smirk. 

“Well, good morning.” A groggy voice leans into your ear and the grip on your belly tightens.

“Morning.” You breathe out, barely audible.

You feel yourself clench around nothing when a hot, sticky kiss lands just behind your ear. Your arch intensifies when another one lands below your jaw and you unintentionally grind against him. It earns you a low grunt from him, which only prompts you to repeat the motion without thinking. His head drops in the nook of your shoulder, taken slightly off guard. He meets you halfway the third time, and it sets both your hips in a slow motion of rubbing against each other.

He can hear you hum each time his confined erection strokes your bundle of nerves and it sparks a determination in him to get more out of you. His hand trails from your abdomen to your pelvis, stopping just at the band of your underwear. He tugs the fabric, not making any further moves until you allow him to. You know that if you don’t take control now he’s going to prolong his foreplay, something you don’t have the patience for right now. He always makes it a point to make you finish at least once before he even considers himself. 

Out of the four times you came the night before, three of them were with his head between your thighs. You can’t even count the number of times you’ve teased him about how he probably gets off on pleasing you more than you do. You surprise him when you grab his hand and push it away from you, swinging yourself around to straddle him. Your hands land on either side of his head and you lower your forehead to rest against his. 

“Nuh-uh!” You taunt and it makes him snort. 

His palms trace your sides, arms wrapping around you, pulling your torso down to him.

“You’re not allowed to touch me this time.” You add in a hushed tone.

“No?” His brows raise in amusement.

“No.” 

You barely breathe out the word when his arms drop from around you. A slight chill takes over the area.

“No!” You repeat in a whiny tone, pushing yourself to sit up. 

You’re looking down on him from this angle, and God, does he look beautiful. His fluffy, sleep-tousled hair frames his face beautifully, the faint light of the rising sun only adding to the sight. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it!” 

“I don’t know. You need to be clearer with what you want.” He chuckles. 

“I want you to stop being a little shit.” You retort, reaching for his hands.

You attempt to settle them on your thighs, but he removes them again. 

“I’m not allowed to touch you. Remember?” He emphasises the word allowed on purpose.

Both of you know that he’s the only one allowed to touch you and vice versa. Even if it wasn't something you both agreed upon, you’d never let anybody else touch you like him. If they even knew how to.

“You can touch me.” You roll your eyes, pulling his hands back to your skin. “But you can’t fuck me with anything other than your dick.”

Your curt tone doesn’t surprise him. He’s used to your boldness. Using your hips, he pulls you down onto his bulge completely. You don’t anticipate the sudden friction and it takes everything in you to not topple over on him. Spencer wasn’t prepared for the impact of his actions either, his head lolling back as he hisses sharply. 

“Yeah?” He questions through half gritted teeth. 

He’s painfully hard and the current view isn’t helping. He can clearly make out the shape of your curves under your flimsy t-shirt. How it drapes on the apex of your breasts, how the hem pools just above your thighs. His grip tightens against the plush of your skin. 

“Mhm.” You breathe out, eyes fluttering as you keep your core pressed to him. 

“Words, sweet girl. Use your words.” His breathing is laboured and it’s taking all of his willpower to not rut his dick back up against you.

The praise breaks you. You can no longer hold yourself up, falling into his chest. 

“Please fuck me.” You can only whisper in his ear, sending chills down his spine. 

He groans, grabbing you by the waist and flipping both of you around so you’re the one lying on the bed. It seems that he’s become just as impatient as you, if not more. He captures your lips in a deep, demanding kiss as he tugs his boxers just enough for his length to spring free. His tongue swipes your lips, seeking entrance and you grant it to him. He finds your kisses addicting. It takes an incredible amount of willpower to break them, but he does, sitting up on his knees. 

He parts your legs, placing one on either side of him and yanking you closer to him. You squeak in response, not processing the action until your cores are once again pressed together. You sigh when he pushes your panties to the side and runs a finger up your slit. A satisfied hum escapes him when he learns just how aroused you are. You sigh when runs his tip against you next, lining himself up with your cunt and pushing just the tip inside. Each of his hands intertwine with yours as he moves them above your head. He then leans in and plants a feather-light kiss on your cheek. 

“Like this?” He whispers in your ear.

He pushes in a little more and pulls out just enough for him to stay lined.

“More!” You whine, breathlessly, brows furrowing from anticipation.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t properly acknowledge your desperation and instead latches onto the skin under your jaw, sucking gently. 

You sigh at the sensation, arching more as his shaft pushes in again. This time, he doesn’t stop until he’s completely bottomed out. You moan and squeeze his hands, still intertwined with yours above your head. You never expect how full he makes you feel. Spencer squeezes your hands in return, still reeling in from how well your cunt accommodates him. He takes a minute, resting himself inside you to allow time for both of you to adjust to the feeling. 

He releases your skin with a small pop and moves a new spot on your neck. You think about how you’re going to have to use concealer to hide the marks he’s surely leaving behind and it makes you clench around him. The effect on him is instantaneous, a harsh groan vibrating against your throat and he sucks harder. The sound only makes your walls tighten more and it cues him to start thrusting. 

The initial pace is slow, but calculated; the kind that makes your joints loosen and jaw slack. He takes the opportunity to capture your lips in another long and consuming kiss. A loud moan ripples out from both of you and your hands deepen their hold on each other. Spencer’s not shy about letting you hear how good you make him feel and that drives you insane. 

Your hands instinctively try to reach for his hair, but he’s pinned you down tight. You whine into his mouth, pressing your fingers between his knuckles. Your whine fizzles out into a series of smaller whines when his hips speed up, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. 

“Mm–Spence–mmph–”

You try to break the kiss to speak, but he simply drops a quick kiss on your jaw before reclaiming his place against your lips. He’s too lost in the taste of you to pay full attention. It takes you a moment to find the willingness to try again, but you do. You arch your hips too high for him to be able to follow from this position, forcing him to slip out from you and try to remove your hands from his grip. His focus is brought back to you and he lifts himself back on his knees, releasing you. 

“What’s wrong? Have I hurt you?” 

“M-mm” You shake your head and push yourself up on your hands.

You then shift into his lap, draping your arms around his shoulders. He gives you a curious look, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I want to be able to hold you.” You admit with a slight shyness in your tone.

A light smile spreads across his face, brows arching in surprise. Being a genius and all, he’s always known he was needed in some way or another. You’re the first person who’s ever made him feel wanted, truly wanted. With no motive other than simply existing with him. It sparks a new desire, one you see light up behind his eyes. He leans into your lips, his hold on your waist tightening and he moves one arm to cradle the back of your head. 

You pull yourself flush against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as your tongues dance together once more. He lifts you up and places you back down against the mattress, mouth never leaving yours. You feel his palm raise one of your legs by the back of your knee and he’s entering you again. He rests that leg on his shoulder, while the other hangs by his waist and begins to build an unrelenting pace. 

You wail into his mouth at the intensity of his thrusts, eyes rolling behind closed eyes. It’s almost brutal, the way he’s slamming into you. Your hands desperately cling onto his bicep and shoulder, nails digging into the skin. His grunts and groans increase each time he gets deeper, if that’s even physically possible and it only makes you desperate for more. Your kiss breaks with a slight sting against Spencer’s lip. You didn’t realise how hard you were biting it in an attempt to stay grounded. 

There’s a shift in the atmosphere that you can’t explain. Even though Spencer was railing you so hard that even the bed had begun to cry out, there was an overwhelming sense of longing between you two. An ache to express how you belong to the other, hidden behind an uncouth sight. It’s compensation for those lack of words, a physical exchange expressing your biggest secret. He’s everywhere; your current position has you feeling Spencer in places you didn’t deem possible. 

His mouth works over whatever exposed skin it can access along your jaw and throat, leaving goosebumps and bruising stains in its wake. His cock is driving into you so fast that you swear it’s going to imprint on your walls. There’s a fire in you, one that only he can put out. Every inch of him can be felt within every inch of you. Now you’re truly melded with each other. 

“Fuck–oh my God!” You scream out, your nails digging harder into his flesh. 

He’s consuming all of your senses, at this moment you don’t know anything other than him. Eyes open or closed, all you can see is his sculpted face. You’re drowning in his scent. Melting at his touch. The taste of his kiss still lingers on your tongue. Your ears are flooded with the slaps of his skin meeting yours and your mixed moans and grunts. 

“Spen–fuck–gon–fu–cum!” 

He hasn’t even spared your ability to speak. With a short kiss, he brings his forehead back to rest on yours in a firm manner. 

“Me too, pretty girl.” He pants his sentence in broken pauses. “Me too.” 

He secures the leg on his shoulder from the back of your thigh and then brings the other leg on his other shoulder. It gives him room to drive himself deeper and makes you lose all control, every joint in your body threatening to fall limp. Your face contorts and you bite your lip, trying to control the flurry of screams. It results in high-pitched whines forcing their way out. 

“Spencer! I can’t–I can’t–I can’t” 

You can’t hold on any longer. 

“I know. I know.” There’s barely any voice accompanying his words. “We’ll do it together, okay? Where do you want me?”

“Inside–inside–ins-shitshitshit…” 

“Inside? Inside.” He struggles to keep himself together while talking you through it. “Ready?” 

You nod fervently and he steals one long, final kiss from you as he finally empties himself in your spent cunt. Your own orgasm crashes through in a long passing wave. You feel like you’re floating in the ocean with millions of stars as your only view for miles. He follows up with a few final thrusts, burying himself as far in you as possible. 

When you finally come to, Spencer’s pulled out and is lying right next to you. Peppering kisses over your face in intervals and muttering praises as strokes away hair glued to your face. 

“Did so well.”

“So good to me.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

For some reason, the water always feels nicer running down your body when you use Spencer’s shower. He’s a simple man; he doesn’t really have a lot of products to use besides the basic shampoo, conditioner, soap, and body wash. The exfoliators, masks and such were your initial additions that he keeps topping up after they run out. 

You haven’t said much since coming out of your euphoric state, only showing your gratitude and appreciation through small touches. Brushing a hand against his cheek, leaving a peck on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He doesn’t mind your silence. It doesn’t deter him from showering you with praise while he looks after you. You’re so disorientated that you’re letting yourself be guided from one instruction to the next. 

“Lift your leg for me, sweet girl. Hand on my shoulder.” 

He helps you act out his command, grabbing your wrist and draping it on his shoulder while helping you lift your leg. His touch is tender, but he’s careful to cover every area with body wash. 

“Good girl.” 

You don’t physically react, but his approval makes you swell with pride. Sex is the least intimate part of your time with Spencer. What you really enjoy is how safe he makes you feel. You know that even if you show him your worst and ugliest moments, he won’t reject you. You trust him with parts of you that you barely trust yourself with. 

Anybody who’s touched your naked body before him doesn’t matter, because not one of them has gotten to touch it past the realm of physical pleasure. To you, the act of washing one’s body is so private, so sacred that it can’t be trusted with just anybody. How many are able to look past the lens of sexual release and view your skin and bones as something to cherish? Not even you can claim to view yourself in such a precious way. 

But Spencer does. 

Even as pats you dry and wraps you safely in a warm towel, he doesn’t demean your worth. They’d be thoughts he could easily keep hidden in the comfort of his own mind, but the thoughts simply don’t occur. You don’t realise how long the two of you are standing there, leaning into each other's arms against the counter. Nor do you realise how long it’s taken you to mentally return to him. The first thing you do notice is so trivial, it’s almost laughable. 

“You’re out of apple juice, by the way.” 

Even you’d laugh if you heard yourself bring up something so random.

“Do you want apple juice? We can go buy some more.” He replies in a quiet mumble.

In his presence, you can think such thoughts without the concern of being laughed at. 

“No, I’m not gonna make you go to the grocery store just for apple juice.” You shake your head, expression oozing sarcasm. 

“I need to buy a lot more than apple juice. I’m pretty sure I don’t even have enough to make eggs or coffee.” He snorts, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Right. I forgot, Mister F.B.I.” You snort back, playfully poking his arm. “How was your time in Alaska?” 

It’s really common for your brain to malfunction around Spencer. You don’t feel the need to think or stay on alert if he’s with you. 

“Grim. Bleak.” He keeps it short on purpose. 

He doesn’t want to taint what little time he has with you focused on the gory parts of his job. Or any parts of his job at all. He spends too much of his time there as it is, so he’d much prefer to keep that part of his life separate from you. Spencer didn’t understand what it truly meant to live until after you came into his life. He’d never admit it out loud, but being around you made him realise how much of his soul his job steals from him, piece by piece. You make it whole again.

“How bad was it?” Curiosity still gets the better of you at times.

“Awful. You weren’t there when I woke up every morning.” He steers the conversation again. 

“Uh-huh.” You smirk, looking up at him. “You say that to all your girl-friends the morning after?” 

He takes a small step back, creating space as he cups your face.

“Even if I had the social skills required, when do you honestly think I would have the time between being at work and being with you?” 

“When you’re at work. Duh.” You tap his temple, playfully, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He scoffs, unamused. It’s something Spencer can’t honestly even imagine. You’re his solace, his best friend…his person. 

“Get dressed.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll stop by that bakery you love and get some food in your system. Hopefully before your suggestions start becoming more and more insane.” 

You don’t appreciate the awestruck look on his face when you’re certain you’ve got chocolate lining the corners of your mouth. You attempt to glare at him, but it doesn’t last and you find yourself fighting back a smile.

“Cut it out!” You groan, stringing out the end of your sentence. 

The trolley comes to a halt as you stop to grab your phone, but he snatches it out of your hand before you can open the camera.

“Hey–”

“I’m revoking your phone privileges until your urge to keep checking your reflection fizzles out.” He states casually, slipping the phone into his pocket as he reaches for a loaf of bread on the top shelf. 

“Revoking my– what are you my fucking mother?” You reach for his pocket, but he grabs your wrist before you can retrieve your phone. 

You try to use your free arm, but he traps that one in his hands too. 

“I don’t wanna walk around with chocolate around my mouth!” You whisper-shout, mindful of other shoppers passing by.

“For the fifth time, you don’t have chocolate anywhere on your face. It wasn’t there after you finished your shake and it won’t be there no matter how many times you check.”

You ignore him, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“You don’t believe me?” The look on his face is more entertained than shocked.

“Spencer, my fluffy-headed, genius bookworm, I would put my life in your hands if you asked me to but after that time you let me walk around with my lipstick smudged–”

“That happened one time!” He gripes, less concerned about his volume. 

“I looked like I came straight off the clock from a circus!” 

“It wasn’t that bad!” 

“Six hours, you let me walk around like that!” 

If he were to be completely honest, he was completely enraptured by your long tangent about why you despise dolphins. Most of it wasn’t based on facts and the parts that were, weren’t really a feasible argument since morals are a uniquely human concept. However, that was the day he uncovered how brightly you light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. He spent the rest of that time, subtly digging, trying to figure out the topics that made you glow so he could keep bringing them up. 

“There’s nothing there. Your face is– looks perfect.” He fumbles on his words.

“I can feel it!” You protest.

“That happens because–”

“Reid?” An unfamiliar voice calls out from behind you.

Spencer lets go of your wrists as you turn to face the owner of the voice. Two blondes, one behind the other. One of them is a lot more colourful and bold, with large statement jewelry and a pair of gorgeous platform heels that match her dress. The other is less vibrant, but with no less confidence and blue eyes that stand out like diamonds shining under lights. 

“Hey! What are you guys doing here?” 

You’re not a profiler, but you don’t miss the immediate shift in Spencer’s demeanour. He seems a lot more reserved and shy, as compared to the confidant and playful version of him that you know. 

“We’re picking up some things for my birthday bash this weekend.” The brown-eyed blonde chirps. “The one that I will definitely see you at, no excuses allowed!” 

“Right.” He gives an awkward, tight-lipped smile. 

Spencer loves his coworkers, he really does. They’re basically his family. However, he wants nothing more for them to go away right now. Not for any reason other than wanting to keep you away from them, because he knows them. For all their amazing qualities, there’s one that annoys him the most and that’s how nosey they can be. Especially when it comes to him. 

“Hi. I’m JJ.” The blue-eyed blonde takes the initiative to introduce herself, reaching out her hand for a friendly shake.

He knows it’s from a place of love. He’s the youngest member of the team, they all want to protect him, but he detests how they coddle him. He can already sense the incoming invitation from Garcia to her birthday. He knows that it won’t take long for you to befriend everyone on his team, because, well, they’re all amazing people. Integrating you with that part of his life is something he’s just not ready for. Not like this.

“I’m Penelope and oh my goodness, you are just gorgeous!” 

He enjoys how when he’s with you, he can exist in a separate bubble. Where all he is, is not the resident genius of the BAU. More than that, he knows of the dangers that come with integrating the two separate lives. He’s seen the losses that occur, whether they be by generic circumstances or unplanned deaths. And there’s nothing he can do to stop his worlds colliding, a fact he has to grasp as soon as he zones back in to find three sets of eyes staring at him, expectantly.  

“Right.” He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “These are my– um– this is Penelope Garcia and Jennifer Jareau, or JJ. We work together.” 

The introduction is hesitant and rushed at best, but you chalk it up to him being taken off guard. You want to gauge his mood, try and figure out where his head’s at, but that’s going to have to wait. 

“Oh my God! I knew it!” Garcia gasps dramatically, taking your hand in hers. “You’re the reason he’s always in a rush to leave now! It is so nice to meet you!”

Garcia’s not wrong. You are the reason he’s always in a rush to get away. You’re his escape from the harsh realities he faces every day. You’re unsure of how to respond. In fact, you’re not even certain as to what’s going on. Nobody else seems to match Penelope's enthusiasm. Spencer looks mortified, while JJ looks like she wants to drag Penelope away. Still, everybody’s too frozen to stop her. 

“Did you know that you have him checking his phone more than a lovestruck teenage girl? Him! One of the biggest technophobes I’ve ever met!”

This is also a fact. Spencer’s not an idiot. He’s not oblivious to the open-mouthed stares he gets every time he’s caught smiling like a dopey idiot after looking at the screen. He’s just never cared. It’s almost impossible to ignore any notification from you. He doesn’t feel great about that coming to bite him in the ass right about now. 

Given different circumstances that were more in his control, Spencer would be elated to introduce the most important people in his life to each other. This whole interaction is actually shorter than he feels it is, but for Spencer, time moves too slowly. He can sense how the safety of your company as he knows it, the most valuable aspect of his life, is under threat of being ripped away from him with every second that passes. Without you, Spencer would once again find himself lost. 

“Spencer, you have to bring her to my bash this weekend! Everybody would love to meet your girlfriend!” Garcia wiggles her eyebrows, eyes smirking beneath her glasses.

Because all he is, is yours. 

“Oh! Uhm–” You begin.

“No Garcia, she’s–this is…my friend..” He adds at the same time, unable to hide his stutter.

At least, that’s all he wants to be.

“Right…we’re just…friends.” You confirm with a half-hearted smile at the reminder of your reality. 

It was better this way. The two of you agreed on this at the start of your arrangement. 

Spoilers: Mostly just fluff, a sprinkle of angst, smut, lots of mutual pining, friends with benefits.

AN - I felt a surge of evil take over my bones when I wrote this and any events that unfolded were out of my control. This is not my finest work, but once I thought of it I had to share it. Also I know I said not to bother me about fics bc uni and I still mean that, I just don’t know what happened. It’s like I got a bit of inspo and couldn’t help myself. Huge thanks to @mrs-dr-reid for beta reading! FWB Writing Challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins Prompt - "I wanna be yours" by Arctic Monkeys

No bc writing that opening scene on the bed might be my favourite and u should tell me if u agree bc I wanna write more like that, but if u hate it then I won't.

Thanks for reading.

[lostinwonderland314]

fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end.  word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be. 

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all. 

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not. 

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide. 

And then he was free. 

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished. 

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened. 

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break. 

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met. 

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again. 

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit. 

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was. 

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be. 

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry. 

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming. 

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened. 

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped. 

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed. 

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again. 

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more. 

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him. 

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more. 

You couldn't complain. 

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch. 

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body. 

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later. 

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind. 

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you. 

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin. 

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered. 

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously. 

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face. 

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up. 

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away. 

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?" 

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again. 

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up. 

"Lots of people say oral," he defended. 

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head." 

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping. 

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping. 

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so. 

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?" 

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose. 

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests. 

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter. 

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him. 

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him. 

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have. 

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded. 

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone. 

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat. 

He liked to hear you. 

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either. 

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face. 

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest. 

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?" 

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body. 

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time. 

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make. 

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit. 

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin. 

"Touch myself?" 

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again. 

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head. 

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again. 

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you. 

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you. 

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could. 

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more. 

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it. 

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin. 

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't. 

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling. 

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome. 

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were. 

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. 

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating. 

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered. 

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after. 

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after. 

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck. 

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter. 

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again. 

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there. 

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips. 

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking. 

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here. 

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more. 

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move. 

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move). 

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second. 

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled. 

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little. 

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again. 

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure. 

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were. 

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots. 

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever. 

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that. 

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever. 

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly. 

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared. 

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely. 

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone. 

Thankfully, you didn't have to. 

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee. 

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub. 

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt. 

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless. 

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways. 

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach. 

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh. 

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. 

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort. 

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[lostinwonderland314]

KastleWeek

saturday, sept. 7 | bonus!

"I'm Persephone. Queen of the Underworld. She is married to that big Dude. Hades. He runs Hell, but she is in charge of Punishment. But I feel sorry for Persephone. Because even when she is back with the living, they are afraid of her, because of where she's been....Kinda funny huh. How many stories they have about princes need to get rescued from witches" -Sharp Objects

@kastlenetwork

[lostinwonderland314]

here are those cute garvez screenshots i was talking about 🥺 specifically the hand ones 🥺🥺🥺

(images are mine!)

he stops what he’s doing to help her save the life of a man that she had/has feelings for, because he loves her. he’s laying one of his hands on top of hers to show her how hard to press but she doesn’t want him to move his hand so she puts hers on top of his.

SHE DOESNT NEED TO BUT SHE DOES 🥺

when he starts to move away, she gets panicked again and he practically leans his forehead against hers, wraps an arm around her and makes sure that she’s got it under control before leaving.

HE LOVES HER SO MUCH :(

[lostinwonderland314]

Something Important: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wabi-sabi1090 @lostinwonderland314 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219

Comes After:

The Farm - Carmen recalls the first day you met.

Good People - Richie and Carmy discuss a potential relationship with you.

Pears - It starts when Carmy makes an order he doesn't remember.

Prequel to:

Mornings - Carmy sleeps better with you around.

Bubble - You have no idea that you saved Carmy's life.

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW) - Carmy tells you he lvoes you for the first time.

Doing Something - Carmy owns up to something he's been doing without telling you.

Carmen spends the entirety of Christmas Day in a state of euphoria because he’s in your apartment, in your bed, fucking you. He doesn’t know how it happened, only that it started with a kiss back in the Beef over some seasonal fruit and now you’re curled up in his arms, your head tucked under his chin as his fingertips doodle patterns across your bare skin.

This can’t be my life, he thinks because this shit, it’s just too good to be true.

But it is his life and it gets better because you don’t kick him out when you wake up, instead you take a shower together and your hands on his body, it’s the most sensual fucking experience of his life.

It ends up with the two of you back in bed, his damp curls falling over his features as he kisses every inch of you. He was shy the first time, he didn’t get to experience you the way he wanted, he was too caught up in the vulnerability of the moment, the act of exposing himself to you.

Now he’s bolder with his exploration of you, more focused, more detail oriented.  He spends the next couple of hours mapping you out with his hands and mouth, discovering what makes your breathing hitch, what makes you moan, what makes your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you say his name.

He leaves you sleeping in the aftermath, his lips brushing over your forehead before he searches your kitchen for food. You don’t have much but he manages to cobble together a meal out of what you do have stowed away in your fridge and the back of your cupboards.

“I hope you didn’t mind.” He says when he looks up and sees you lingering in the doorway, wearing nothing but a t-shirt advertising the farm and black panties. “I know it’s Christmas and I didn’t have a gift so…”

He gestures at the food he’s prepared and the smile you give him, it’s everything.

“You are the gift Carmy.” You say, your lips brushing over his cheek and in that moment he realises that you actually believe that, that you believe that he’s something to be treasured, to be cherished.

He makes love to you on the couch after that, your thighs hitched high on his hips so you take him deeper because Carmy, he’s starting to get a little territorial now, he wants to claim you as his own, to be the man that you come home to, the only one you fuck.

“What would you be doing?” He asks you in the aftermath as he lies underneath you, his fingers stroking lightly through your hair. “If I wasn’t here? How would you be spending Christmas?”

“Sleeping.” You tell him, your fingertips tracing over the tattoo on his chest. “I know it’s pathetic…”

“No.” He shushes you, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze. “Trust me I get it, I would rather have slept through every single Christmas I had with my family than endure that nightmare.”

He means it you can tell. You’re kindred spirits, the two of you, both fucked up in your own kind of way. Two ruined puzzle pieces that just seem to fit together.

“Carmen.” You say quietly as you meet his gaze. “What am I to you?”

“Something important.” He says softly as he tucks a stand of hair back behind your ear. “Something I don’t have words for just yet.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[lostinwonderland314]

blackfish | spencer reid

summary; being in the early stages of your relationship, spencer has yet to hear your passionate rambles, until you watch a documentary together and the topic of animals in captivity comes up.

warnings; fluff, so much fluff fem!reader, early seasons spencer, marine biology major!reader, start of relationship things, talking about animal abuse, animals in captivity, talks about orca’s and the documentary blackfish (i know the time line is unrealistic use ur imagination please)

an; self indulgent as a marine biology major and someone very passionate about the fact animals should not be used as apart of a circus act. Very very short, and sweet.

Your legs were resting over Spencer’s, the heels of your feet pressing against the side of the couch arm, while his hands massaged the skin of your calf gently, the credits to the documentary you had spent the last hour and a half watching together rolling over the tv. His hands were gentle and hesitate in every one of the movements, a little shy.

“Did you like it?” He asked, turning his head to look at you, thumb pressing against a tender muscle in your calf, the sensation causing a soft sigh of relaxation throughout your body, which contradicted the annoyance that had been filling you as the film went on.

You hummed, unsure of how to answer the question. “It was interesting.” You mumbled out, your head rolling to press against the back of the couch cushions. He smiled slightly as his hands continued to work out the tension in your legs.

“Yeah?” He hummed out. You nodded, interesting was a safe way to describe your feelings on the documentary you had watched. It wasn’t that it was bad, it wasn’t at all. And you had been interested, the entire time. Just the more the details were revealed the sicker the feeling got in your stomach.

He shuffled slightly, “What are you thinking about?” He asked, his hands pausing their massaging movements to instead rub gently over the smoothness of your skin. Obviously he had noticed the slightly sour look on your face and the way your mind seemed elsewhere.

“How horrible the human species are.” You answered honestly although you were aware Spencer was already aware of this fact. He worked to stop all the horrible things the human species did everyday. He witnessed it firsthand.

“Annoyed?” He asked. You nodded.

You shuffled slightly, pulling your legs away from where they had been resting over his thighs to sit up a little straighter, tucking your knees underneath you as your hands came to rest on your thighs.

“I don’t understand how anyone can look at animals in aquariums or even animal’s in zoo’s and think that it’s just.. okay?” You huffed out, annoyance lacing your tone as you spoke, every word coming out just as disgusted as the last. “i mean— These are wild animals and people act so shocked when they act like wild animals. Like that poor orca had been put through hell since the age of two— ripped away from his family and everything he knew, starved, beat up by other orca’s all for what? A quick buck?” You huffed out in frustration.

Spencer hadn’t expected the ramble but it definitely wasn’t unwelcome, your voice was laced with so much passion and intent, every word that left your lips showed how deeply you had thought about this. He had hummed in response, not wanting to interrupt.

“Marine mammals — they are isolated more in captivity than they aren’t which is absolutely insane since every aspect of their being is based on their social and emotional connections— I mean they have a whole part of the brain that human’s don’t have thats dedicated to their emotional bonds. Which means they feel everything probably double the amount that we do” You continued in frustration as your arms came to wrap around your stomach, and irritated pout on your lips.

Spencer raised his eyebrow but nodded, you were right. “They don’t belong in captivity” He agreed simply, you nodded passionately in response to what he had said. He couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face as you rambled, because this had never happened before. Normally you were pretty quiet, not in a way that you were shy or awkward, you just didn’t ramble a lot, not like he did. This was a nice change and he couldn’t help the way his heart swarmed at the sight of you getting all worked up over something you felt passionately for. He would listen to everything you had to say, and a million times more.

“It’s— so gross. Like it genuinely makes me feel sick how they take these animals away from their families and then exploit them for money. Like dolphins — Teach them tricks and then act like it’s just an extension of their natural behaviours — it’s not. You know marine mammals in captivity die way earlier than marine mammals in their natural habitats? Especially Orca’s. Orca’s could live up to 100 or even more and they hardly make it to 30 in captivity.” You huffed out.

“I didn’t know that” He did.

“And Orca’s— Oh my gosh. Each family speaks in their own set of vocalisations, no two families will communicate the same way. They literally have their own languages. And— and people want to throw Orca’s from different pods together in a pool and call them a family? They can’t even communicate with each other, or understand each other at all!! You know that can lead to aggression between Orca’s? Nearly half of Orca’s deaths in captivity is because of a different whale being too aggressive—“ You paused when you finally realised you were rambling.

Your cheeks burnt at the realisation, meeting Spencer’s eyes which were filled with nothing but love and admiration only furthered the burning sensation in your cheeks. “Sorry.” You huffed out sheepishly. “I got a bit carried away” you let out a laugh.

He shook his head instantly, his hand reaching out to rest gently against your knee, “No. Don’t apologise. Keep talking, what were you going to say?” He asked, almost desperately begging you to continue on with your passionate ramble, continued to further discover this side of you.

“I-“ you started but your brain short circuited at the look in his eye, pleading, sweet, gentle, loving, admiring. How could he look at you like that and expect you to be able to form a coherent sentence — you could hardly form a coherent thought. “I- forgot.” You huffed out.

He smiled widely, “Whales being too aggressive which can lead to that frustration being taken out on other whales, especially if they feel challenged or uncomfortable.” He finished for you, making your smile widen.

“You’re so smart” you huffed the compliment as if he wasn’t told it so often. He didn’t mind, it always meant more coming from you.

“Go on, angel. What else do you have for me?”

[lostinwonderland314]

Won’t See Me Again

Summary: Reader comes to pick up her father for his scheduled half day off. When it becomes apparent he forgot, the team sees what might be the end of your relationship. For some reason, Spencer is particularly bothered by this.

Tags: Somewhat angst, Gideon!reader, unknown daughter/half sister to Stephen, mentions of absent parenting.

You walk through the clear doors to an office you haven’t been in for over 8 years. It hasn’t changed much, if at all. You remember the days you dreamed of working here, the nights you skipped parties to study human behavior, the times you ditched friends to attend lectures or seminars for subjects well above your education level at the time. The times you snuck into those same seminars when you couldn’t afford the fees.

Maybe that dream still has a chance to come true.

As a child, it had started as a fascination with what your father did for work. Then, it was a way to get close to him - something to talk about with him. The older you got, the more distant you realized he was, and the more you clung to the one connection the two of you had.

You were the love child of what was practically a one night stand after what apparently had been a harrowing divorce. It was only somewhat comforting that he wasn’t any more of a father to your half brother, Stephen, than he was to you. Stephen at least had a present mother in his life though. You wouldn’t say you and your older brother were close by any means but you would bet you knew more about him than Jason Gideon did.

None of that matters right now though. You shake your head from your reminiscing, taking the stairs to your dad’s office. You knock and are met with silence. Slowly, you open the door to peek your head in only to find it empty. As you are about to turn around, a timid voice speaks up.

“He’s in the conference room, can I, uh, help you… Miss…?”

You turn to find a rather gangly man staring at you, his brown hair slicked back behind his ears. Your heart beat picks up a moment when met with someone so attractive before your eyes zoom in on the labeled coffee mug and you give an internal sigh to yourself.

“The conference room, you said? Hm, he must have lost track of time… thank you, Dr. Reid”.

You turn, ignoring the man who you logically knew you had no reason to dislike (and would probably get along quite well with) but were unable to not feel envious of. He’d only been in your father’s life for three years and already he had spent more time with the man than you ever had.

Meanwhile, Spencer cocked his head, wondering how in the world you knew his name and just who you were.

Then he realized he was letting a stranger, albeit an incredibly attractive one that he very much wanted to talk to, wander around the BAU, one who was looking for his mentor. Hurriedly, he trailed after you, realizing he hadn’t even gotten your name, too caught up in the color of your eyes. You reached the conference room before him and he can only stand awkwardly behind you, shrugging his shoulders at his teammates confused looks.

Only Hotch seems to know who you are, and Spencer catches a tinge of worry in his expression. It doesn’t take long to determine what’s caused the rare emotion when Gideon walks back in, file in hand.

“There you are! We were supposed to meet 20 minutes ago. I swear, one year I will buy you a watch with an alarm built in that you won’t be able to turn off on your own.” Your voice breaks the silence, and Spencer can somehow tell you’re trying to come off as teasing although your voice falls flat.

He watches as Gideon looks up, and his brow furrows.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

You feel as Spencer moves from behind you, going to stand between who you assume to be Derek and Elle. You try not to notice the quizzical expression on his face, or how only Agent Hotchner seems to know who you are.

“Today… it’s Thursday. The 4th. You took a half day off, remember?”

The team looks at each other and Spencer sees Hotch wince slightly. It appears you catch the facial expressions as your eyes narrow. You open your mouth but Gideon speaks first, cutting you off.

“Well, I’m sorry but we just got this case - I’ll have to reschedule. I am sorry sweetheart”.

You sputter a moment, your mouth opening and closing.

“Re- reschedule? We can’t reschedule. Do you seriously not even remember what today is?”

Gideon sighs, closing the file and is almost patronizing as he repeats that the team has a case. You straighten your shoulders, counting to ten in your head before speaking in a calm voice.

“Is it a hostage situation? Is it the first 24 hour period of a child missing?”

Gideon pauses, before indicating that it’s not. You continue, “Then statistically speaking, your team can afford for you to leave for 12 hours. Not even 12 hours. Whatever you miss I’m sure you can catch up on while on the plane.”

Gideon attempts to place an arm on your shoulder but you shrug him off.

“… you never even requested the time off, did you?”

Gideon sighs again, muttering out a strained “sweetheart, please”.

Briefly, you wonder what the team thinks about Gideon calling someone sweetheart. You don’t know the thought is going through Spencer’s brain - you seemed a bit too young for him to be dating you, and as far as he knew, Gideon only had a son.

You scoff at your father, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. You had hoped, just this once, that he wouldn’t let you down. You should have known better. Turning your gaze to the team you plaster on the fakest smile, approaching Derek with your hand out.

“I’m sorry, it was incredibly rude of me to come in and immediately talk to my father without introducing myself. I assume none of you even know I existed based on your expressions just now. Minus you, of course, Agent Hotchner - it’s nice to see you again, I hope Haley is doing well.”

Hotch gives a small smile, nodding his head towards you but focused on watching the way Gideon deflates behind you.

You state each team members name in turn, shaking their hands and introducing yourself. You wave at Spencer, and he wonders if you know he doesn’t like handshakes or if he has done something to you that he’s unaware of. He finds himself hoping it’s the first but also wishing you didn’t know, so he’d have the opportunity to hold your hand. Once introductions are done, you turn away from the team and find your father still staring at you hopelessly.

“Look, I’m sorry but we’ll reschedule, I promise, okay kiddo?”

“You can’t reschedule. This is an event. But don’t worry, dad, I shouldn’t have expected you to actually show up when you have missed every other life event. I’ll see myself out”.

You give the team a tight smile before turning on your heel to leave. Gideon grabs your elbow, and tries to talk to you in a low voice, as if the team hasn’t heard everything else you two have said. You don’t let him finish the conversation in private, your expression turning to utter shock.

You throw your arm out, pointing directly at Spencer as you speak clearly,

“He isn’t your child but you went to his third PhD graduation. If I remember correctly, you even took him out for a dinner afterwards. I am your legitimate daughter and you have missed my high school graduation, college graduation AND the one for my Masters. Why in the world did I ever think getting a single doctorate would measure up?”

“I’ll make it up to you when I get back,” Gideon tries to say.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hotch trying to usher the team out, as if he knows the conversation isn’t going to end well but you hold up your hand, shaking your head and halting their stilted movements.

“Don’t bother, Agent Gideon. By the time you get back, I’ll be out of this city and not even this team will be able to find me. I hope your case at least ends well”.

Once more your head turns to the team and you give them a stiff nod before you make your way out the door.

Spencer expects Gideon to go after you, feels like he himself should go after you and apologize for - well he doesn’t know what to apologize for but he’s sure there is something. Instead, Spencer watches you leave and Gideon turn to the round table, clearing his throat and giving the team a look that warns them not to say anything.

Only Spencer notices you stop outside Gideons office, removing something from your key ring and leaving it on the floor in front of his office door. Only Spencer notices you look back at the table and shake your head when you meet his eyes, your expression sorrowful before you straighten yourself up and walk away.

Spencer wonders if he’ll ever see you again. He doesn’t know how to explain his sadness when he realizes he probably never will.

Shout out to @hotchfiles for giving me (and probably most of us) the idea of a Gideon!reader! I know many of us are currently having the reader be Gideons kid so I hope this story is different enough!

[lostinwonderland314]

Please Let Me Be Enough

Summary: After missing an important date for something you can’t fathom, Spencer has to convince you that you’re the one for him.

Tags: angst with a happy/hopeful ending, feelings of worthlessness, feelings of not being good enough, mentions of season 8 love interest and spoiler of that arc ending, gender neutral reader, no physical descriptors - an outfit is mentioned that reader wears of Spencer's but it is described as being "extra large for him" (Think the XXXL hoodie he wears in season 15), established relationship, pet names, no y/n.

Around 4,500 words.

*The poll said angst with a happy ending, so I hope anyone who voted enjoys!

Hi! Thanks for reading! I welcome any and all feedback - yes, even constructive criticism! Be nice but if you think something is out of character or incorrect, let me know!

He doesn’t know how he doesn’t recognize you immediately, why it takes a few seconds to place the curve of your cheek and the way you stand.

Logically, he knows it’s because he didn’t expect to see you here. If someone had asked him to guess where you were, this wouldn’t have made the top 100 guesses. If it wasn’t for that “find your friends” app that Penelope had created and forced you two to download for “safety reasons”, he never would have come here searching for you.

Confused, Spencer quietly approaches, hiding his body behind a nearby tree, something deep inside him telling him to not alert you to his presence just yet.

From this spot, he can just barely make out that you’re speaking, your voice soft and broken.

“… and that’s the thing. I can’t even hate you, because I could never hate anyone for loving him. He makes it so easy you know? But sometimes - God, sometimes I wish we could trade places. Even if it meant I was dead, at least I would have lived in a world where I had Spencer Reid’s entire heart”.

Spencer is shocked at your words, confused that you could ever think he didn’t love you with everything in him. He knew things had been a little tense for the past few days, since he came home late one Friday to find you with red rimmed eyes, but this, this sadness, couldn’t be from just one night.

You pause for a moment and Spencer recognizes your shaky inhale, knows that you’re trying not to cry. You’re holding an umbrella above you to ward against the sprinkling rain, but something else hides at your side, and it crinkles as you move. You raise your arm to wipe your eyes, giving him a view of what you’ve brought here of all places.

Flowers.

A bouquet of flowers.

With a start, he notices they look exactly like the ones he just sent you today. He actually moves to step forward but stops once more at your voice.

“I don’t even like this kind of flower. Not even in my top five. But they were your favorites. I know that because every time he misses you, he sends them to me. I haven’t figured out if it’s because he feels guilty or because he wishes I was you.”

You bend down, balancing an umbrella on your shoulder, arranging the bouquet along the headstone in an artful way. As you do this, you continue talking, as if the bones lying beneath the dirt will actually answer you, your voice sad and wistful.

“I know your favorite book and passage, as well as which philosophers resonated with you. The songs you liked, and your favorite color. I know that you hated peppermint tea and have powered through novels you despised because you never wanted to leave something half-finished. I know all these things, because he carries you with him, in everything he does or says. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not begrudging the man for having a life before me! Everyone has a past… I just… I wish he would leave you there. God, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? Maybe that’s why he prefers you.”

Your huff out a self-depreciating laugh, shoulders shaking as you struggle to hold in your sobs. Spencer notices his hands are shaking as well, silent tears escaping his eyes. He lets them roll down his cheeks, too ashamed to even wipe them away. He catches himself against the tree at your next words, can feel his heart shattering at how much he feels he’s failed to make you feel his love.

“But I’ll never be you, and that’s the problem Maeve. That’s the issue. You’re Dr. Maeve Donovan, the most beautiful girl in the world, renowned geneticist and the love of my boyfriend’s life. You’re gone and you’re never coming back but he still picks you.  I can never be you so I’ll never be enough.”

Spencer hears you let out a painful sob, one he’s never heard from you before, and he watches as you raise one hand to cover your mouth in a futile effort to silence yourself. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t know if he can, his mind racing, his heart beating faster and faster and faster —

He doesn’t know what caused this. How he didn’t know these poisonous thoughts had taken root in your mind.

He still doesn’t know why you’re here, why you’re talking to the grave of his maybe-ex-girlfriend as if you have some shameful secret. Spencer realizes with a start that he’s been zoning out as his thoughts race, and when he looks back over to where you were, all he sees is the headstone, with the flowers he had sent you arranged all around.

Stepping out from behind the tree, Spencer looks around, trying to find you in the empty graveyard. He spots you as you are getting into your car, and he knows you won’t be able to hear him even if he yells your name, the soft rain of before coming down harder now. He rushes out to the street, ignoring the raindrops hitting his face and the puddle he absolutely stepped in – making a mental note that he should take Derek up on his offer to train more often as he pants – and hails a taxi. Maybe it’s his voice or the way he’s fidgeting, but the driver senses his urgency and Spencer pretends he doesn’t care as the man goes at least 15 over the speed limit. Anything to get back home and talk to you, to make things right.

As the taxi rolls to a stop, he throws cash at the driver, and rushes to take the stairs two at a time, making it to the apartment just as the door swings shut. He hastily throws himself against it, startling you as he pushes inwards. At the sudden intrusion, you raised your umbrella to defend yourself, and Spencer lets out a startled yelp as it crashes down on his head.

“Spencer! Oh my – I’m so sorry!”

You drop the makeshift weapon, mouth dropped open as you stare at your boyfriend in shock and regret. He’s wet – as if he’s spent 30 minutes in the rain and you have no idea why he would have done that. His eyes are staring at you widely and you can’t name the emotion you see swimming in them, but you do notice the small puddle forming where he stands.

“Why… Come inside, we need to get you changed. I know you said that rain doesn’t cause sickness, but it can’t be good for you!”

Spencer lets you usher him inside, watches as you run around grabbing him a towel and blanket. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until now, and he feels his eyes well up with tears watching you rush to take care of him, even though you think that you’re somehow not enough. You notice the tears forming along his lash line and gasp,

“Oh, please tell me I didn’t hurt you. I’m so sorry, I was turning to lock the door and when you pushed in I thought you were an intruder or someone had followed me and I hadn’t noticed and so I just reacted –”

Spencer drops the towel you had given him to the floor, stepping out of his soaked shoes and approaching you. He places a chaste kiss on your forehead, his large hands cupping your face as he leans back to stare directly into your eyes,

“I love you.”

You furrow your eyebrows, absolutely puzzled by what has gotten into your boyfriend. Deciding that your emotions were already drained for the day, you go along with him, leaning to brush a kiss against his lips.

“I love you too, Dr. Reid. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes though, okay?”

He hums, nodding only because he knows that logically, he needs to talk to you, and the conversation will not be a short one. Before he moves away though, he pulls you close to him, kissing you once more.

“Can we talk, once I get changed?” his voice soft and tender.

Hesitantly, you nod, your mind racing with what he wants to talk about. As Spencer goes to change, you make your way to the kitchen, making tea to both warm him up, and to give yourself something to do as you wait.

Spencer goes through the motions of drying off, and makes his way into your closet, searching for a particularly extra large sweatshirt of his he knows you often steal. As he’s looking through the variety of fabrics that are hanging, his eye catches on an outfit he’s never seen before, and his hand reaches out to touch the silky material.

It’s purple, his favorite color, and he can already imagine how beautiful you’ll look wearing it, and he wonders just why you haven’t modeled it for him before. He starts to imagine the two of you all dressed up, and where he would take you to show you off.

Suddenly, it hits him, the smooth fabric falling from his fingertips as he realizes just why he’s never seen this particular outfit before, and why you had been crying a few days ago.

He had missed your make-up anniversary date.

Your anniversary had been a few weeks before, but as it fell on a weekday, you both knew he would likely be called out on a case. You had suggested a make-up anniversary date for the following weekend – knowing that Jack had a soccer game on that Friday, so he was a teeny tiny bit less likely to be called out that night. You had teased him that you’d bought a new outfit, had hinted that you had bought something to wear underneath as well, and assured him that you had taken care of all the details. You had been so excited – and he had forgotten.

The team had returned from a case extremely late the night before, and the paperwork that he could normally breeze through took much longer than normal. It had been a stalking case of a high profile government employee, and the stalker had been murdering innocent people to get their attention. To top it off, the stalker had multiple personalities and he had felt as if all his past nightmares had piled on to each other at once. His mind had been swirling and when he had left work in a daze, he hadn’t planned on going to visit Maeve. One moment he was thinking of all the different aspects of his past and how lucky he was to have survived to find you, and the next he found himself before her headstone.

He hadn’t visited Maeve in a while, and while it wasn’t his plan for the night, he found himself telling her about the case and then about what new books there were, the new coffee shop down the street that gave him all the sugar he asked for. He told her updates about his life. About you. About how he thought she would like you, and how much better you made him want to be. He had spent over an hour talking about you when he realized the time, pulling out his phone to find missed calls from you. When he’d called you back, you had frantically asked if he was alright. When you found out where he was, your voice had changed, although you had tried to play it off as relief.

Suddenly, your words from earlier made more sense and he feels the panic well up inside him.

“You’re gone and you’re never coming back but he still picks you.”

“…picks you”.

That’s what you thought he had done. He hoped you knew he would never purposefully miss a date, especially for something like this. He replays every single word he heard you confess to Maeve’s grave, his mind picking up on details he hadn’t paid attention to. He doesn’t notice that he’s having trouble breathing, still standing in your closet staring at the purple outfit, until he hears you call out his name as you come into the bedroom.

You had partially expected to see Spencer fast asleep, or perhaps taking a hot shower. You had not expected to see him standing in your closet, crying as he stared at the outfit you had thought about trying to return.

“Spencer”… you call out again, not wanting to spook him.

He turns to you and whimpers.

“I’m so sorry”.

His shoulders shake much like your own did just an hour ago and you hurriedly set down both tea cups you carried, approaching him like he’s a wounded animal. Spencer launches himself into your arms, his face buried into your neck as he whispers apology after apology. The words run together and you can barely hear him anymore, but you understand all the same.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his own still brimming with tears.

“I didn’t pick her.”

You furrow your eyebrows and Spencer forces a deep breath into his lungs, and speaks quickly, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t get the words out now that he never will.

“I wanted to talk today, so I came home early and you weren’t here. After a while, I got worried, so I used that app Penelope made? The one that says where someone is?”

Your eyes widen as you realize he knows where you had been. You don’t think he’d be angry with you, and it isn’t as if what you had done was wrong. But if he had been there… had he heard?

As if he could hear your thoughts, Spencer continued,

“I… I heard you, not everything, you sounded like you were in the middle when I got there. You think I picked her because I missed our make-up anniversary night. Angel, I’m so sorry. It just slipped my mind, work had been intense all week, and the case was too much. I left work just thinking about it and my feet led me there. I didn’t plan it at all, I never would have… I’m so sorry”.

You step out of his embrace, your eyes finding the floor and he pays special attention to every micro expression you try to hide. When you look back up, your eyes don’t meet his, and you stare to his left, to the outfit still showing behind him. He waits, wanting to apologize more, to convince you of his sincerity, of his truth, but knowing you are working up the courage to speak.

“I waited at the restaurant for an hour. I’d left you a note here with the address along with a matching tie. They finally asked me to leave – it was that physics-magic place, the one you mentioned? They were having a Nicola Tesla night, and I ended up bartering with the owner for a reservation because they’re booked for six months. I took on some admin work, some marketing style things that they didn’t have done… but they, uh, well, it’s almost a show, you know? You’re at a private table, but everyone in the room starts at the same time. They couldn’t hold up the show for just me. And you weren’t there. So I left.”

You meet his gaze now and Spencer can see the hurt in your eyes. Hurt that he caused.

“Honey…” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“Why her? You, you just said that you were upset and your feet led you to her. What was so, so special about her?”

Tears are in your eyes but you’re determined to not let them fall. You’re hurt and you’re angry but most of all you’re scared. You’re so scared of what his answer will be, if this is the night you’ll officially lose him to a ghost of a memory.

“That’s not…” Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I ended up there but it’s not because she’s special or anything. I hadn’t been there in a while, and I think my brain knew I needed somewhere to go to just talk.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Spencer knows they weren’t the right thing to say. The tears you were fighting so hard against spill over, but when he takes a step towards you, you take a step back.

“72 days.”

Puzzled, Spencer cocks his head to the side, staring at you in utter confusion.

“That’s the last time you were there. I know that because that’s the last time you sent me those flowers. Her flowers. And because when you came home that night, you read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and E.E. Cummings. Her favorite author, and her favorite poet. The next day you wore the gray cardigan that itches because you knew she owned one similar.”

Spencer can’t help his mouth from dropping open, and he roughly swallows, his mind going over that day and wondering how it was that he had never stopped to profile himself.

He can’t find words. He has the entire English language at his disposal and he finds himself speechless.

“2,412 hours. 100.5 days. That’s how long you two had. Do you know, without calculating right now, how long we’ve had? Do you know the number of days? Do you remember our first conversation – our first phone call? What do I have to do to be good enough for you, Spencer?”

“I…you are more than enough for me” he whispers, his voice fraught with distress.

You snort at his words, wrapping your arms around yourself before remembering that it shows you’re defensive. Instead you move to the arm chair in the corner of the room, grabbing the large sweatshirt Spencer had been looking for in the first place and putting it on as if it were a shield against him.

“Maeve…was special. She was my first love. My first real relationship. But that doesn’t make you matter any less, doesn’t make you any less special and important to me. It doesn’t make me love you less.”

He looks at you with love shining in his eyes and it makes you angry. It makes you angry that he can say pretty things and that you want so badly to believe him when you have the proof that they aren’t true. You know you shouldn’t, but you voice the negative thoughts you’ve harbored for far too long.

“That wasn’t a real relationship”. You mutter the words softly, almost hoping that he doesn’t hear but wanting to say them out loud all the same.

“Pardon?” he replies, his voice sharper than before.

You inhale slowly, and count to ten before letting out an exhale. When you meet his eyes, he can’t name the emotion he sees in them, but he knows that he hates it.

“She wasn’t real, Spencer. You talked to her for days on end but none of it was real. You learned that she spent Fridays looking at a microscope and not on dates but she somehow didn’t ever mention the dates that led to her being engaged? You told her about one of your worst childhood memories but you censored it! You told her about your shirt being removed but never told her the rest. You both, both cherry picked what you would share and that’s not a real relationship!”

You’re frantic and heaving by the end, your hands waving as you talk, eyes wide as if you’re pleading with him to understand but not hopeful that he will.

Meanwhile, Spencer doesn’t know what to feel, his first reaction to become defensive and to fire back. He hasn’t responded and he almost misses your last sentence.

“But it was real to you. And that’s what matters. That’s why you pick her”.

You’re so quiet by the end, and you’ve given up on trying to appear as if you aren’t defensive, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking down at your feet.

At first, Spencer wanted to be angry. He wanted to rage and lash out against you that what he had with Maeve had been more than real, more than special, more than love. But then he looked at you, huddled in his clothes, staring at his mismatched socks with tears streaming down your face, and the bubbling anger cools. Left in its place is the desire to soothe, to fix, to love.

He approaches you, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against him. His large palm lands on the back of your head as he encourages you to lean against him entirely, your face in the crook of his neck. His other hand moves up and down your back in a soothing motion, while his head drops down to whisper in your ear.

“She was real to me. She was my first. You’re… you’re right. I’d never thought about what we didn’t share with each other. I didn’t want to admit that because then I’d have to wonder if she would have said she loved me if she knew all of me and I didn’t think anyone ever would, until I met you”.

You shake in his arms, your own arms encircling his slim waist and you bury your head further into him, trying desperately to listen to his heartbeat.

“You’re the first person to love me unconditionally. To be there when I don’t deserve you. I think of her fondly, and I think she changed me for the better. She… well, without her, I wouldn’t have told you I loved you so soon. She taught me not to wait, not to let an opportunity slip through my fingers. That love can be fleeting and sorrowful. You’ve taught me it can last and bring more joy than I ever thought I’d get.”

He pulls you away from his chest, cupping your face in both palms,

“Two years, and twenty days. Two years, two months, 6 days, and 9 hours, if we go by the moment I first saw you. It did take me an entire week to see you again, and have the courage to approach you. I’d planned out the conversation in my head but you didn’t stick to my script – and I was so flustered.”

You gave a half smile at the memory of him, coffee cup in hand and hair a mess as he approached you to talk about the book you carried. The same book you carried to avoid talking to strangers. Instead, it led to a wonderful first conversation, an exchange of names and numbers.

“I don’t know why Blake ever told you that I called Maeve the most beautiful girl in the world.  I did say that back then, but I never told you that in that moment, when I first saw you, I couldn’t come up with a single adjective to describe you because none of them were enough. I couldn’t hear anything but the sound of my own heart beating, and it was calling out for you. It sounds silly, and, and ridiculous, and I’m a man of science – of logic and structure – of rules. But the moment our eyes met, none of that mattered and I found myself wondering if fate and destiny might be real after all. By the time I had gotten myself under control, and had the thought to actually approach you, you had walked away”

His thumbs brush away the remaining tears from your cheeks, his lips press against your forehead softly.

“I got called on a case right after, and we landed in the middle of nowhere, late at night. I had been berating myself the entire flight for not talking to you and when we were in the car, I saw a shooting star. And, and I remembered when I was a child, my mom telling me to make a wish on a star and how even then, I didn’t understand how it could ever help. But that night, I made a wish to see you again. I even tried to make a bargain with it – with whatever magic the star had. That if I saw you again, I wouldn’t mess it up, and I’d approach you and get your name.”

He looks at you tenderly and you’re doing your best not to sob once more.

“You wished on a star…for me?” you whisper.

Spencer nods, smiling a smile meant only for you, kissing your forehead once more, then both your cheeks, and the tip of your nose. He presses butterfly kisses against your eyelids before his lips finally meet yours for a brief touch.

“I’m so sorry, for missing our make-up date, especially one you planned for me. I’m sorry for making you feel as if I was stuck in my past, instead of looking forward to a future with you. The flowers – her favorites – I never sent them because of that. I sent them because they mean love for all eternity. In some cultures, they represent divine perfection. It wasn’t because I missed her but because she reminded me to never take you for granted, to appreciate every moment I get to love you. You said that you wished you could trade places with her so you could live with my whole heart but you already have more than that. You have my entire soul, my every atom vibrates with love for you and only you. You are more than enough.”

You reach up to kiss him deeply, your fingers wrapping themselves in his hair.

“I’m sorry” you whisper against his lips and he just smiles at you gently.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry for ever making you doubt how much you matter, how absolutely incredible you are. I love you and I don’t want you to be anyone but you. I don’t want Maeve or anyone else. You’re the only one for me, from the moment we met until the moment our ashes turn to dust, and if there is time after that, you’ll still be the only one I desire. I love you.”

Another kiss, another long embrace. Spencer whispers his love to you, swaying side to side as you hold each other close, bodies molded together like puzzle pieces. Eventually, you move to the bed, lying to face one another, and continuing to whisper truths you have somehow kept hidden, baring the shadowy parts of your souls to each other. You tell him of your own love for him, of your fears and how afraid you are of losing him. He soothes every thought, and tells you about the future he imagines with you. He talks about buying a farm with cattle to pet, and laughs when you tell him you’re imaging him wearing chaps with a cowboy hat. He talks about an actual future, painting a picture so clear there is no doubt it will happen.

The last thing you feel before sleep claims you is his lips pressed against your head once more and the last thing you hear is his honeyed voice, reminding you that you will always be enough.

[lostinwonderland314]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[lostinwonderland314]

late / jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

hiii - feels like a long time since I've actually posted anything. this fic idea came to me kind of randomly - I've been seeing a lot of fics lately centered around making/having babies and I thought it'd be nice to write something angsty and fluffy catered to those of us who are childless and want to remain that way lol - as always, lmk what you think!

late / jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

word count: 3.5k

I do not have a taglist - if you'd like to be notified of future works please follow @vegaslibrary and turn on post notifications

warnings: mentions of periods, hints at termination (not said explicitly but it's there), talk of kids/pregnancy, angst and fluff !!

You shut the dishwasher before continuing to move about the kitchen as you cleaned up from dinner, one you would say was one of your best if you were going to toot your own horn, and your sights were set on the freezer for a little ice cream to go along with your movie before bed. You thought you should hold out, you’d left an invite open to your boyfriend to come here after his plans, but you decided against it. Ben and Jerry’s waits for no one.

You set it out to soften for a minute, pulling your planner from your bag to skim through your plans for the next day to make sure all your ducks were in a row and you were about to close it when you fixated on the date. “There’s no way,” you muttered to yourself, genuinely baffled by how far into the month you were. Your brow furrowed as you tried to comb through your memory but things had been so busy lately you were falling short so you switched to your phone and tapped on the pink app icon, eyes widening as you realized your first thought was true.

“No, no, no,” you sighed, walking to the bathroom with a quicker pace than normal and dropping down to look beneath your sink. “Don’t be expired,” you pleaded. To whom you were pleading you had no idea, but you breathed out a sigh of relief when the tiny text on the box confirmed you still had a while to use them. 

You checked the app again, scrolling back through the month and confirming what you’d hoped you’d misinterpreted the first time… but you hadn’t, you were in fact late. Ten days late. You had always considered yourself quite lucky, your period ran like a well oiled machine and your cycle was always twenty-nine days on the dot. Every so often you’d fluctuate, but only by a day, and for that you were grateful. You were always prepared, and you always knew if you ever fluctuated by more than a day it was cause for concern…

Ten days was more than cause for concern in your book, frankly as you stared at the test you thought you didn’t even really need to take it. You only kept them on hand because you were known for missing a pill here and there and you’d rather have to run to your bathroom in a panic than to your closest mini-mart, but you’d never truly had a scare before. You always assumed they’d expire before you got to use them. Oh, how wrong you were. 

Pregnancy was never on the docket for you. You knew from a young age you had no interest and frankly it scared you more than anything. You knew it was reckless not to switch to a more effective birth control, one that was foolproof and long-lasting but the pill you’d been on since high school hadn’t failed you yet so you’d put it off despite the fact that it had been on your to-do list. Right about now you were wishing you’d just booked the appointment and gotten it over with. 

You did the only thing you really knew to do at this moment and fired off a text to Natasha, your best friend for almost two decades. All it read was three simple numbers: 911. 

You heaved a sigh as you ran your fingers through your hair and chastised yourself for being so flippant. You knew you didn’t want this, and you knew the pill wasn’t perfect, especially not when you missed at least one per pack. Really, you’d just gotten lucky your whole adult life, and the fact that this hadn’t happened sooner was beginning to feel like a miracle as you really let the situation wash over you. You were broken from your thoughts by the sound of your phone vibrating harshly against the tile and you answered it before it even got through its first ring.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asked in lieu of a hello. This was one of the many reasons you loved her and why she was still your best friend after all this time. Unless she was in the air or on the other side of the world, a 911 text was responded to in the form of a call in five minutes or less. You also decided to forgo a greeting and simply held up the box and her eyes widened, “no, are you serious?” 

“Unfortunately,” you sighed and she considered her next question carefully.

“Have you taken one yet?” You shook your head. “Okay, so it’s just a suspicion, maybe there’s not even anything to worry about.” 

“Ten days, Nat,” you replied.

“Oh shit,” was all she said for a moment. “Hey, you’ve been eerily regular your entire life, maybe your uterus taking a hard earned break,” she tried and you chuckled at the attempt to lighten the situation with humor. 

“Or maybe it’s growing a person,” you said and she rolled her eyes.

“You haven’t even taken it, you can’t get all doom and gloom yet. Have you talked to Jake?” 

“Should I?” you shot back and she just gave you a deadpan look through the screen.

“Should you talk to your boyfriend, the one who may or may not have impregnated you, about the fact that he may or may not have impregnated you?” she asked rhetorically. 

“I just… it’s not like it’s going to go anywhere if it’s positive,” you sighed. “We haven’t talked about it, Nat. He doesn’t know how I feel and I have a feeling it’s going to ruin everything.” 

“How could you know that if you haven’t talked about it?” she replied with that face that told you she knew she was right, because she always was, not that you’d tell her that. “If this was some random hookup I’d say absolutely don’t talk to them about it, but this is Jake… you guys are getting serious and I think you’ll feel better if you do.” 

“That’s the thing, we’re getting serious. This is still so new, what if I lose him as soon as I tell him ‘yeah if you stay with me you’ll never have a family’?” 

“First of all, I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this but definitely don’t say it like that. Second of all, if you lose him because your goals for the future don’t align then he was never really yours to begin with. It just means your person is still out there and so is his.” 

“I know that was meant to be comforting but the thought of him having a person out there that isn’t me is making me nauseous.” 

“Sure it’s not morning sickness?” she teased and you scowled at your phone screen. 

“I’m serious, Nat… I know it’s early and we’re just starting to settle into a groove but I feel like he’s it, you know?”

“No, I really don’t know how my beautiful and smart best friend winds up being it for Hangman, but you know I love and support you and all your choices… including whatever you decide to do if the test is positive. At the end of the day the final say is yours, but I think you should at least include him in the conversation.” 

“I know, I just… shit,” you were cut off by the sound of your front door and Jake’s voice letting you know it was him. “I completely forgot he was coming over.”

“Talk to him, even if it doesn’t go well it’s better to know now, it’ll only hurt worse later… and for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’ll be whatever worst case scenario you’ve concocted,” she said before you hung up and Jake was just walking into to bedroom as you exited the bathroom.

“Hey, there you are sweetheart,” he said with that famous smirk of his that was now only reserved for you. He leaned in to press a kiss to your lips that you easily reciprocated, “you on the phone?” 

“I was, with Nat,” you answered and he chuckled.

“Swear you two can’t go four hours without checking in. I have no idea how you make it through deployments.” He’d tease but he loved how close you were, if you weren’t he’d never have met you. You would have never been dragged into the Hard Deck and he’d never have the opportunity to spend two long months trying to win you over. She’d swear until her dying breath it had been the opposite of her intentions, but Jake would always consider himself indebted to Natasha for bringing you into his life.

“Yeah well, she had to tell me all about your epic failure at the pool table,” you said and he laughed. It absolutely had not been the topic of your call, but you were glad she had been texting you about your boyfriend’s terrible game against Bradley as it was happening so you had something to say while you worked up the nerve to tell him what you were really talking about. 

“Okay, it was not an epic failure,” he said as he pulled his spare clothes from your dresser and began working on the buttons of his khakis, “but if it was, it was only because I didn’t have my good luck charm.” 

“She said you’d use some cop out like that,” you replied and he playfully rolled his eyes. He quickly pulled on his sweats and became acutely aware of how you hadn’t moved an inch since he arrived, and the way you were picking at a hangnail on your thumb. Normally, you’d have already jumped into bed and launched into a rundown of everything that happened during the day but you were silent, unmoving, and about to hit bone on your thumb. 

“Everything okay?” he asked as he shrugged his shirt on and you nodded, suddenly realizing how off you were being as well. 

“Just a long day at work,” you answered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and you should have known he’d see right through you. He always did, even before you were officially together. Jake had learned you and all your cues in record time and nothing got under his skin more than when you tried to pretend he hadn’t… like you were right now. 

“Wanna try that again?” He sat beside you and put a reassuring hand on your thigh, and the simple action had you letting out a sigh. 

“I’m late,” you said and Jake just nodded. Most men would have asked late for what? but as you’d learned over the past several months, Jake wasn’t most men and he didn’t need to prod to realize what you meant, especially when you were this visibly anxious.

“Okay, have you taken a test yet? Do we need to go get one?” He kept his tone even and measured, not wanting to add any more stress onto your plate.

You shook your head, “there’s one in the bathroom,” you answered. He hated the way you were avoiding his eyes and the way you hadn’t stopped picking at your hands.

“Let’s take the test so we know exactly what we’re dealing with, and then regardless of the result we’ll sit right here and talk it all out… how does that sound?” he asked and you smiled softly but it didn’t reach your eyes. He was always proactive, any time something came up he immediately sought out a solution and you weren’t at all surprised this was his response.

“I think that sounds good,” you said as you stood, “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here,” he replied and you knew from the look in his eyes he meant that in more ways than one. Seeing you stressed or overwhelmed wasn’t new for him, but this was something else entirely… normally you’d be frazzled over something work related and you’d vent to him and snap back to normal but you were completely withdrawn. He knew you were scared, frankly he was a little scared too, but he was suddenly worried he hadn’t made his feelings clear enough. There really wasn’t anything you could do at this point to send him running, and especially not this; he desperately wanted to know what was nagging at you so he could reassure it away.

You returned from the bathroom and took up your previous spot beside him, stick in hand, “two minutes.” you said softly and he leaned over to press a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, whatever it is we’ll figure it out. Everything will be okay,” he said and you nodded but he could tell his words just rolled right off you, not sticking in the slightest. He thought it’d be best to stay silent while you waited, he’d be able to get to the root of it once you both knew exactly what was going on.

The timer on your phone startled you and you silenced it as you took a deep breath. Jake slid his hand through your free one and intertwined your fingers, squeezing reassuringly as you flipped the test over. Negative. You exhaled in relief and dropped your head against his shoulder and he quickly lifted his arm to pull you into his chest. Emotion tugged at you despite how you tried to keep it at arm's length, and eventually you succumbed to the tears trying to break free.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay,” Jake whispered, kissing the top of your head and drawing soothing patterns along your back. He continued to talk, low reassurances that weren’t quite registering but the tenor of his voice eventually calmed you down and when the emotions finally ran their course he hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. “Talk to me, what had you so worried?” he asked gently, wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

You considered your options: you could say you were just terrified by an unplanned pregnancy and push past it, or you could do what you knew you needed to and be honest despite the fact you were somehow convinced it’d bring the end of your relationship. “I don’t want kids,” you blurted out and he was nearly as surprised by the sudden confession as you were.

“I- I never have, I… never envisioned that life for myself and I’ve never felt that thing people feel that makes them want kids. I know I’m like… broken or something, I know it literally goes against my biological nature to not want kids, I just don’t and I know that can be a deal breaker so I understand if you don’t want to stay-"

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he interrupted, his tone still gentle but not as soft as it had been earlier. “You are not broken. It’s perfectly normal to not want kids and you don’t need to justify that, to me or anyone else. This isn’t a deal breaker, sweetheart, I’m pretty convinced nothing is at this point,” he said and this reassured you slightly, loosened the knot in your stomach slightly.

“You don’t want kids?” you asked, your voice still timid and small. You didn’t want to ask but you needed to know, this was your one shot to get everything out in the open and make sure you were on the same page.

He thought carefully for a moment before answering. “I honestly haven’t given it a lot of thought. My life is so up in the air, literally and figuratively, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to picture slowing down enough to factor kids in. That’s not to say I’ve never wanted them, but I’ve never been attached to the idea.”

“Is it disappointing to know that if you stay with me you’ll never have that option? I don’t want you to have regrets or end up resenting me because I never gave you a family.” Jake’s heart cracked at the look on your face and the emotion thinly veiled in your eyes. In the back of his mind he knew this was coming from somewhere specific… At some point someone had made you feel like you were broken, had either said or made you feel like a life with you wouldn’t be enough without kids and he hated that. He hated that right now it seemed like you were just waiting for him to echo the sentiment and leave you stranded. 

“Sweetheart, if that test had been positive and you wanted to keep it I’d be thrilled to start a family with you, just as thrilled as I am to build a life just the two of us. I don’t love you because of your ability to provide me with a hypothetical family… I love you because you’re you, that’s always going to be enough for me.” Your breathing hitched as you processed his words, you literally felt the weight lift off your chest at the reassurance he really wasn’t going anywhere and it gave your heart the room to thud wildly against your rib cage.

“You love me?” you asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips and his eyes widened. In the heat of the moment he hadn’t realized what he’d confessed and he felt himself flush.

“Yeah, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it just now, or so soon- I do love you but this night has been emotionally overwhelming enough, please don’t feel like you have-“ he was rambling, and you were having a hard time keeping your enjoyment in check. 

Jake was a confident and assured man, it’s part of what drew you to him at first, but now he was a stumbling mess with crimson cheeks because he’d just confessed he loved you and you were sure he’d never been more attractive to you. Not when he sidled up beside you and bought every drink you ordered every time you were in the Hard Deck with that cocky smirk and those sparkling eyes, not when he boldly flirted with you every time he saw you despite Natasha threatening to have him shot out of the sky, and not when he threw an arm around your shoulder and called you his girlfriend with no real confirmation, he just knew you were his and he was yours. None of those moments of the smooth and charismatic Jake you knew compared to this sweet and bashful one in front of you.

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss, knowing he wouldn’t stop unless you did it for him. He responded instantly and you couldn’t help but giggle as you pulled back. “I love you, too.” you said and in the blink of an eye he regained his confidence, pulling you back into him and kissing you like a man starved. 

“You just made me the happiest man on earth, darlin’,” he said, pecking your lips once more. “A life with you is everything I ever dreamed of. We don’t have to talk about this ever again unless you want to… I just need you to know that I’ll remain the happiest man on earth so long as I’ve got you, no hypothetical children could ever make me regret or resent you.” 

You felt the need to be closer to him and crawled into his lap to wrap around him like a koala, squeezing so tight he let out a strained laugh. “I love you,” you said again as he held you close.

“I love you too, sweetheart… Now what do you say we get some snacks and ice cream and decompress with a movie night?” he asked and your eyes widened as you pulled back, suddenly remembering what you’d left on the counter. 

“My ice cream!” you yelled, disentangling yourself from him and sprinting down the hallway to assess the damage and he trailed behind you chuckling the whole way… he watched you frown as you looked at what had turned into soup and you pulled out your phone, mumbling something about getting it delivered because there was no way you’d go without a sweet treat tonight. He was paying attention, because of course he was, but as he stood leaning against the doorframe looking at you with a lovesick expression on his face he was thinking about the future. 

He saw nights at the bar, you heckling his friends better than he ever could and getting away with it in a way he never did. He saw travel at every opportunity and nights-in just like you were about to have. He saw romantic dinners and fights and nights of endless passion — and maybe he saw a dog down the line. He saw himself putting a big rock on your finger and buying you a house with a porch swing out back because he knew that’s all you really wanted, and it’s there on that swing you’d watch the sun rise and set over the ocean and truly start to grow old together. He saw it all, the good and the bad, in a split second while watching you lean over the kitchen counter, eyes glued to your phone as you scrolled through your options, and he couldn’t help but beam. ‘As if I could ever regret a life with you,’ he thought.

[lostinwonderland314]

Deserve it (Bob Floyd x reader)

Summary: After working hard, your boyfriend gives you several rewards.

Warnings: older BF Bob, slight daddy kink, definitely some dd/lg vibes in here, older BF Bob eats it from the back okay, fingering, language

“Hey sweet girl,” his voice was deep, the gravel showing off his age. The very sound made your knees nearly buckle.

Not that you had to worry about falling; Bob already had one arm wrapped around your waist, the other draped around your leg, long fingers gently tracing the soft flesh of your bare thigh.

His broad chest was pressed against your back, salt and pepper stubble gently brushing against your temple.

Despite feeling so small in his arms, you had never felt more secure.

When Natasha invited you to her co -worker's barbeque a year ago, you knew it was done out of politeness. You had just moved to the area and her sister, your best friend, wanted to make sure you were actually going out and meeting folks. Nat was doing you a favor, nothing more or less.

You just wanted to get through that night, to beat your anxiety over being the youngest person there by nearly a decade. The most you were expecting that night was a few conversations and drinks.

Meeting a real life prince charming that night was not on your Bingo card.

At first, you thought Bob was just being a good host as he spoke to you. That was the polite thing to do, considering he was in his late thirties and you were just a friend of a friend.

Even when he asked for your number, you tried to be realistic. You had been led on before, had placed your whole heart in someone just to be disappointed.

A year later, Bob had more than proved he was serious about his relationship with you. The age difference didn't make a huge impact, aside from childhood references and social media knowledge.

Bob was patient. He understood you hadn't been in a serious relationship until he came along. He was more than happy to guide you, never making you feel stupid or unworthy.

“Hi Robby,” you giggled, feeling his skin heat up at your special nickname. Only you got to call him that, just like only he got to call you his sweet girl.

Bob continued peppering your jaw with light kisses, his large hands continuing to gently stroke your exposed skin.

“How was your day? Did your presentation go well?” His attention to detail was one of the things you loved most about Bob. He was invested in all aspects of your life.

“It did! They're going with my proposal.” It was impossible to hide your wide grin, especially when Bob spun you around to show the matching one on his face.

You only saw that slightly crooked, honey drenched smile for a brief moment, as Bob pressed his lips against yours.

Despite dating for a year, his kisses still made your heart flutter. His hands would cradle your jaw, practically covering the entirety of your neck. He always bent his knees, not wanting you to strain yourself while trying to reach his lips, your comfort always at the forefront of his mind.

“Knew they would,” He murmured against your lips, “So proud of you, my smart girl.”

Your knees practically buckled at the praise. Some would have felt it was condescending, you disagreed. You loved that Bob was proud of you. In fact, you wanted it, wanted to be his good girl.

“Stay here, wanna show ya something.” Bob pressed a gentle peck to your lips before walking out of the bathroom.

You bit your tongue, holding back a comment about Bob buying you things. It was a battle you'd never win. Bob spent his money on you and Lego sets, and that was how he preferred it.

So when he showed you the tennis bracelet he had purchased, you just smiled. No comment on how his money would have been better spent elsewhere.

“May I?” He motioned to your wrist. You held it out so he could gently place it on your wrist. While it was simple, you knew the diamonds would sparkle once you were in light.

Once the bracelet was secure on your wrist, you threw your arms around Bob’s neck, head buried in his broad chest.

“Thanks Daddy.”

You could hear him sharply inhale through his nose, the nickname always drawing a visible reaction out of him.

“‘Course baby,” his hands moved from your back down to your hips, “Did you eat breakfast today?”

You nodded proudly, “And lunch!”

Bob dipped his head down to press a kiss on your forehead, “Been so good today sweet girl. Think you deserve a reward for it.”

You looked at your bracelet, confused, “I thought this was-”

Bob shook his head, a near Cheshire like grin on his face, “That's just because I wanted to. So tell me sweet girl, do you want a reward?”

You tentatively nod your head, heat flooding your face, “yes please.”

He's pleased that he didn't have to remind you to use your words. Bob places one last kiss to your temple before spinning you around, forcing you to face the bathroom counter.

Without even thinking, you lean forward, your chest brushing against the marbled counter.

Bob hums in approval. You've learned quickly.

He quickly kneels down, his large hands trailing up your bare thighs. He's able to effortlessly spread your legs apart, pushing up the hem of your skirt to reveal your bare cunt.

“Been such a good listener baby. So proud of you,” he cooed, holding back a chuckle at how your legs trembled at the praise.

You were so sweet, always wanting to be good for him. It had taken you some time, the idea of being with someone who truly loved you and wanted the best for you was a new concept.

You shuddered upon feeling his breath against your core. Unable to see him, all you can rely on is touch. His deft fingers gently parted your soaked folds, sending sparks throughout your body.

Your body lurched forward when Bob's mouth made contact with your entrance.

Prior to Bob, you didn't know someone could be so enthusiastic when it came to giving oral. It was always seen as something required before sex, not an act that could be enjoyed on its own.

Then you met Bob.

Bob, who cared about your pleasure more than his own. Bob, who didn't view sex as a thing, but as an experience.

The bathroom quickly filled with your breathless moans. Your chest was pressed against the counter, your soaked cunt completely at the mercy of Bob’s mouth. His large hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, sure to leave bruises.

Not that you mind. Having a physical reminder that you belonged to him was thrilling. You quickly learned that Bob loved marking you, nearly bordering on an obsession. Hickies, hand shaped bruises, bite marks. He couldn't get enough of your body.

“Taste s’good, s’fuckin sweet,” Bob groaned inbetween lapping up your arousal. A large hand snuck around the front of your body, long fingers quickly finding your clit.

Your hand found the back of his head, clutching his sandy brown locks in hopes it would be enough to ground you. His mouth felt like heaven. Each stroke of his tongue pushes you further and further away from clarity and closer to that pleasurable edge.

“C-close,” you gritted through your teeth. You didn't need to ask him permission, but knew Bob wanted to know when you were near.

He loved to watch you fall apart.

Just as expected, his mouth was replaced by his fingers, your cunt welcoming the stretch. His breath was hot on your ear as he was now leaning over you.

“So pretty like this,” he cooed, “I know, you're so close. Just let go sweet girl, I got ya.”

You gripped the edge of the counter as white hot pleasure coursed through your body.

Bob watched you in the mirror, memorized by how your body reacted to his nimble fingers.

What a long way you had come. At the beginning of this relationship, you were hesitant to allow him to see you in such a vulnerable state, to have him hear you let out such lewd sounds. You would ask for the lights to be off, would have buried your head into the pillow to muffle your sounds.

Now you felt safe to fully let go, to show him all of you.

“There ya go, that's it.” His voice was soothing, a sharp contrast to how his fingers were thrusting in and out of your soaked entrance, “Comin’ so hard for me, sweet girl. Fuckin’ love it.”

His hand continued its ministrations on your poor cunt, his lips ghosting over your temple. Your body leans into his, craving more.

Before Bob, the idea of coming twice in the same session was preposterous. Unrealistic.

Now it was the bare minimum.

This time when you came, your legs shook, your brain practically blacking out from the pleasure. You could hear how hard you were coming, lewd squelching sounds vaguely ringing in your ears.

“It's okay, I gotcha, Daddy’s gotcha,” He whispered against your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist to help you stand up as you recovered from your high.

“Made a mess,” you mumbled, able to feel how much you came on your inner thighs. But now your head was in a pleasure filled haze, only able to vaguely register that Bob was leading you to bed.

“I know, and I'll clean you up. But I want you to lay down first.” The back of your head gently hits soft pillows, your body melting into the mattress. True to his word, Bob returns with a warm washcloth, gently wiping you down.

“You wanna take a nap, sweet girl?” he murmured in between pressing gentle kisses against your forehead.

“But dinner-” you started, only for Bob to gently shush as he helped you out of your skirt.

“I'll move it back. You had a big day, you deserve to rest.”

“Robby?” You hummed, opening your eyes to find him helping you into one of his old T-shirts.

“Whatcha need, baby?” He asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Can….can I keep you warm? While we nap?”

This time it was his turn to blush. Bob nodded, quickly moving to take off his pants and boxers, laying down on the bed. He didn't need any help, watching you come twice had made him hard enough.

With his help, you were able to move into his lap, your hand finding the base of his cock, wrapping a hand around it so it could align with your entrance.

A content sigh left your lips upon being filled with his cock. You laid your head against his chest, your breathing slowing down as Bob traced shapes on your back.

You were always amazed by how well he filled you. So full, unlike anything you had experienced before.

Without thinking, your hips began to lazily grind against his, the movement causing his cock to shift inside you.

Two large hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips, stilling your movements.

“Later,” Bob said, eyes still closed, “Want you to rest now sweet girl.”

He was far from done with you. But Bob also knew you would need your energy for later.

Besides, good girls deserve a nap.

And you were his best girl.

------------------------------------------

@lewmagoo @sometimesanalice @charmedkim @thepurplelovewitch @sio-ina-bottle @sugajar @briseisgone @idontcare-11 @cherrycola27 @auroralightsthesky @ryebecca @bobfloydsbabe @hangmanapologist @sebsxphia @mxgyver @callsignspark

[lostinwonderland314]

KastleWeek

saturday, sept. 7 | bonus!

"I'm Persephone. Queen of the Underworld. She is married to that big Dude. Hades. He runs Hell, but she is in charge of Punishment. But I feel sorry for Persephone. Because even when she is back with the living, they are afraid of her, because of where she's been....Kinda funny huh. How many stories they have about princes need to get rescued from witches" -Sharp Objects

@kastlenetwork