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moonflower-31 · 1 year

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Choosing your way out is sometimes the best ending.

Put under reading because of its fucking length and the topic of suicide being a main part of it

And as promised, @snekverse is @'d

Content Warning: Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Going through with suicide, Body Dysmorphia, Grief, Brief Mentions of S/A

All the source I got was watching through MCD all the way into season 2

One of the first things you'll notice about Laurance is that he just. holds himself up to such a horribly high standard and is very self sacrificial.

Considering it took us 28 episodes (counting the nether arc) to find out that Joh was his adoptive father, and longer to find out that Hayden and Cadenza were his family as well, literally Cadenza had to be the one to say ANYTHING about their relation, he doesn't really put himself on the same standard/isolates his family and his loved ones from himself while putting them on a pedestal. Their allowed to show any type of being a human being. He can't. He doesn't grieve Joh, because that was his fault. He bottles the trauma of becoming a shadow knight, because that was his choice to stay back. He doesn't grieve Hayden when he thought he was dead, just becomes enraged, and he doesn't grieve when Cadenza's tells him not to. He called missing Ungirth sob stories. He has so much negative shit in his mind that he just fucking bottles all that up and never seeks help from anyone.

So, everything starts with the Shadow Knight Wedding, obviously.

Look, Laurance absolutely thought Aphmau was going to be put in a compromising position, while he was tied to the chair at the ceremony. Thoughts getting worse and worse of what is going to happen her, a lot of it was coming from his shadow knight side trying to trigger him into going berserk.

After an abrupt and horrible thought tearing through his mind, does Laurance finally snap, and his shadow knight comes screaming out.

His vision is red, and there's a sick glee about whats he doing, the blood that splatters against him, there's joy in him at how the king cowers as he backs to the edge and as he falls to his death, and as he approaches Fenrir, readying himself to tear him apart from limb to limb-

Aphmau kisses him.

Reality comes rushing back in and he registers what is happening. What he had done

Aphmau was crying.

She was apologizing.

She's apologizing to him. As though she was in the wrong, as though she was the one to just cause a goddamn massacre.

And then he looks at what he has done.

Upon looking at the carnage, at thi- this macabre red wedding he has caused, does Laurance come to a horrible realization. It's not safe for him to love her.

He can't love her, if this makes him slaughter so many. If it makes him put Aphmau in a compromising position.

He is the Shadow Lord's perfect creation.

He can feel the way the bridesmaids stare at him, as they hold each other and cower away from him. He hates it, he hates himself. Laurance wants to crawl out of his skin, tear off his skin and find a new one, because the one he has right now is so disgusting and tainted.

That's nothing new, his body had never felt like his ever since becoming a shadow knight

..... His hands are sticky with blood.

He is just the perfect creation of the Shadow Lord.

This is where the beginning of the end for Laurance starts, with the idea of dying and only gets much worse with the calling beginning. Everything is beginning to spiral.

He doesn't say anything about it to anyone. Laurance does what he does best, he doesn't look for help, instead he just bottles everything up, never letting himself lean on his friends for support.

He doesn't tell Aphmau about the nightmares he has.

He doesn't make himself a bother to anyone.

What Laurance instead does, (because he's not gonna straight up take his life at this point, there's still a lot of shit to do) is start studying of the relics to get Garroth out of the Irene Dimension and try to help Aphmau understand more of her powers in an effort to ignore the voices and self hate, just to find some semblance of peace.

It's only when they head to the Island of the Demon Warlock does the vague and fluid idea's of dying finally take some sort of shape when he discovers that Aharon has relics, he recognizes the relic he read about, and when he watched him pull aphmau and the kids out of the minor dimension. He realizes that Aaron has these types of things. With that something is finally takes shape.

Nothing happens immediately, everything actually goes a bit better, They find the island, and lil Lilith Garnet is found, Laurance is side tracked by the Tu'la invasion, avoiding the southern eastern wolf pack, and other things that makes it feel like things are turning out for the better.

And then the Calling began to occur.

(With re watching the series, I straight up think the interaction with that Shadow Soul in episode 23 is what triggered the calling, literally after that interaction everything went down fucking hill for Laurance and the Calling. That fucking phantom did some funky spooky shit to Laurance's mind and that fucked him over ultimately, fuck those phantoms.)

And that's the final nail on the coffin.

Everything with his shadow knight side begins to get worse and stronger, his urges to complete his transformation invade his mind like tar, invasive and consuming.

After he attacks and almost kills aphmau because he mistakenly was fooled by Zane disguise, does Laurance come to a horrible realization.

Laurance doesn't see where the calling will end with him.

And that's what really terrified him, the fact he doesn't know where this was going. He can't make sense of what's going to happen, the thoughts that swarm his head are getting more violent to the people he loves, towards Aphmau, towards Cadenza. He doesn't know if he can keep it under control.

It becomes increasingly clear that there is probably no good ending if he stays.

(AM: I'm worried about Laurance

AH: Whats wrong?

AM: He's just been... Distant. It scares me, sometimes.

AH: Why don't you go talk to him?

AM: Sometimes, I worry if I go look for him to talk, I'll find him impaled by his own sword.)

He decides that is he needs to go.

(Everyone thinks things are fine, because Laurance is back to being his perky and charming self, because suicidal people become happy when they decide on actually doing it.)

To make a long story short, he rifles through Aharon's thing, finding two he needs from what he had read, and then he sneaks into Aphmau's cabin and steals the fragment she has, giving her one final forehead kiss and saying goodbye to Lilith, he makes off into the night.

Aharon finds that he was stolen from first, irritated at first and knowing that Laurance has been missing, he waits for him to come back to get back the realm breaker and make laurance return aphmaus fragment.

He becomes horrified when he realized that Laurance stole his relic stripper

Things happen as they do in the original, a transformed Laurance uses the uses the fragment, stops Zane from killing Garroth and throws the three of them out into their dimension .

Garroths on the ground, kinda stunned, and he kinda just watches Laurance get up, and glances at him for a bit, before taking the relic he has in his hand.

L: Hey Garroth, tell Aphmau and Cadenza... Tell them... Tell them that I'm sorry

And then he rushes forward towards Zane.

------

There's a blinding white light and then a ear ringing boom rings out just as Aharon says that he thinks Laurance is in danger from himself.

(AH: No....)

Aphmau sprints to where the explosion had came from, there is only Garroth left now, finally finding it in himself to stand, hold the orange scarf that fell off Laurance, elation slowly turning into grief as Garroth begins

(Z; What is this, come to finish the job?

L: No, I'm not (pulls out the relic stripper)

Z: Where did you get that!? You'll kill us both!"

L:(in the most tired, but elated voice, with a matching smile) Good)

After the tale is over, Garroth looks at Aphmau, he starts to say something, but its interrrupted by a sob, and another, until his body is racked with them, and its finally what makes Aphmau be able to process of what they had just lost.

She screams and garroth holds her, sobbing so hard he's nearly hyperventilating.

....

The memorial happens 5 days later.

Cadenza is left in numbness, unable to process that she just got her brother back, only to lose him again all to soon, without even a single chance to say goodbye

Aphmau keeps the scarf for a bit.

So, who's the head of the shadow knight rebellion?

Well...

It's Amethyst, she faked her death because she gained her immortality because she ended up having to mercy kill her husband because he became so ill, it was cruel to let him live like that.

A: What foolish venture has brought you down here?

AM: Zane told us that Laurance was here, w-we thought that, maybe he

A: Aphmau... honey, Ro'Meave didn't tell you the full tr-... you don't understand, he.... he didn't come back- I... Not in the way that you think. This was a mistake, you all made a grave mistake comin'-

And then Amethyst freezes for a moment, a look of dread and alarm morphs on her and then snaps her attention back at the trio.

A: You three need to leave now!

She shoves Aphmau and Katelyn off the platform, as it goes, and tells Garroth to go and hide/Zane runs off out of fucking terror to the overworld as a figure emerges from the fire and nether rack.

Enter Gene.

G: Well, its not everyday we catch you outside of your keep.

A: And its not everyday I encounter a glorified lap dog, but here we are.

G: ... (In a very strained tone) Funny... Did you summon us here because your finally going to submit, to be our finally be our good and obedient soldier?

A: Odd, I didn't summon you or him out here at all, nor do I have any desire to sink down on your level, Eugene. A pet, I am not.

G: Well, guess we're going to do this the hard way then. Would be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to this.

Someone else comes stalking forward from the shadows, though he's in full shadow knight armor even with a helmet hiding almost entirely their face, except some cracks of it, its clear he's entirely different from the rest of the shadow knights as the edges his gear seems to be more sharpened to a fine point and a translucent cape flowing behind them.

Enter Shad

S: I've been looking forward to ripping you pathetic safe-hold apart

A: Should I be honored that I have finally prompted you to give it a try? After the abysmal failures of you're general? Then again, what do you expect from a child that's still throwin' a temper tantrum for not gettin' what he wanted after all these years.

G: (Seething) Why, You old bi-

S: Let her bluster, that's all she's got after loosing more than half of her little rebellion to us.

A: ...... (Takes out a long sword) I believe it is time for you to leave.

S: (Laughs and takes off his helm, readying for a fight) Now- Wha?

Aphmau and Katelyn made it to that small hill like in the original, just as Shad looked over in their direction.

They make eye contact

(A: YOU (garroth) , RUN!)

Though his skin had lost a fair amount of pigment and life, looking almost gray, eyes are now a glowing brilliant scarlet, with bright red veins deforming his face of its natural beauty. Hair lacking life or care, hanging limp and lifeless around his face. Despite looking like an actual walking fucking corpse, Aphmau recognizes who exactly this is.

She knows who this is by the second she sees him.

Its Laurance.

Katelyn and Garroth have to drag her back all the way to the portal.

(Alright I have no idea how the rest of this will go, cuz while Alina does exist in this rewrite/verse thing, she isn't the same as her original source and is merged with another character, so what the fuck the confrontation in the overworld is about with Aphmau and shad i do not fucking know at this point)

So once everything is, for the moment, over with, and Shad heads back to the nether and everyone else have a minute to catch their breath and kinda regroup does Katelyn finally says anything

Katelyn: .....What the fuck are we going to tell Cadenza?

Aphmau bursts into tears.

Garroth screams.

The beginning of a much worst tale begins here.

Alternatively, after the blast is over and the white light finally faded, Laurance abruptly wakes in a unfamiliar forest, its certainly not the forest that surrounds Phoenix Drop.

After a little while to reorient himself and shakily pick himself up and on his feet, Laurance stumbles/wanders the forest for a while, trying to figure out where he was and how he even survived the blast until he runs into a weird kid with black markings and purple and green eyes and… Someone who looks oddly familiar to his pearl.

END.

This was all inspired by the fic Die like A Hero by Alistair_Seacaster

#this...#i dont like this #why must you do this to me #my baby #my babies #tbh this is how it should've happened though with where jess was taking things.#but now I gues we'll never know

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moonflower-31 · 1 year

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Jokes on you, I simp for both 🤣🤣😭😭

garroth vs laurance

#aphmau minecraft diaries #aphmau garroth #aphmau laurance #aphmau #garrance

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moonflower-31 · 1 year

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'Brother in arms' oh they were in each other's arms alright

#I find it hilarious that in their mystreet counterparts it says they're canonically lovers #only makes sense they fucked in mcd #like look at Garroth and tell me you wouldn't hit that #Laurance has it all man #like if you and Aphmau don't want him i'll take him srs

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moonflower-31 · 1 year

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I am in love 🥰 😍 Thank you so much for writing thisss

Ashes to Flame

Summary: When the light of your world becomes faded, your friends search for a way to bring it back and their desperation leads to a startling discovery.

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

Warnings/tags: Soulmates, some angst, fluff

Word Count: Almost 4200

Author’s Note: This was written for @girl-next-door-writes Christmas/Birthday Challenge. I’m sorry I’m late on this, sweetie, and hope you enjoy it! My prompt was: “It’s never too late to be what you want to be.. unless you want to be younger, then you’re screwed.”

Special thanks to @sumara62 my wonderful beta and @nobodys-baby-now for listening to my whining and sympathizing with my inability to make deadlines (among other things).

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission. Giving credit does NOT count. Reblogging is ok.***

You couldn’t remember ever being this tired.

It was more than just weariness that had settled into your bones. The days bled into each other, the minutes stretching together in one long string of empty moments. It felt like you existed within shades of grey, everything around you saturated with cooler hues. The more time that passed, the bluer everything became. The world. You. Even the sun fell flat, the warmth on your face overshadowed by the ever-fading colors, and every time it set, you felt another piece of yourself disappear with it.

You had no idea what had happened. One moment you were awash in a sea of yellows, from the flickering candlelight to the faded parchment of ancient texts. You were doing a favor for an old friend of your father’s, burying yourself in lore that hadn’t seen the light of day in years, if ever. Your eyes closed for the briefest moment, your fingers trying to rub the dull ache behind them away as you tried to remember what daylight even was.

A sudden chilliness descended, something that was far more frequent than you liked, and you tried not to think of how many spirits likely roamed the old monastery halls. This cold snap hit deep, however, and a shudder tore through you, causing your eyes to immediately open. You blinked once, then again, stare widening as everything around you suddenly took on the tones of a faded, discolored photograph.

That had been years ago, and it had never been the same after that.

Keep reading

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moonflower-31 · 1 year

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YOU THINK I’M JOKING BUT I’M DEAD SERIOUS

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moonflower-31 · 1 year

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Just posted this on my other blog, read it if you know the fandom! If not, I highly recommend the video game Seduce Me the Otome by Michaela Laws. It's on the playstore and available on steam. The first game is free on pc, it's beautiful.

Journaled Confessions - James x Reader

A/N: My first fic on this blog! I can't wait to keep writing. For now, enjoy the first of many to come! I love this one with all my heart, and I hope you will too!

Pairing: James x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Cursing, mild violence (if you can call it that), self-doubting.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Do you ever get the feeling that you're destined to fail? That whatever you do, it's all gonna come back and bite you in the ass? That's how you felt trying to gather your courage to tell James how you felt.

You'd think it'd be metaphorically easy, confessing to a literal sex demon that he's all you think about at night. (Sorry Damien) But it's not. He's thwarted your efforts, whether conscious or not, every time you've tried to pull yourself together and tell him how you felt.

There were many times you could remember trying to bring up love in a conversation or trying to ask him a question only for something else to catch his attention and squander your confidence completely. Or he just changed the subject and you never got to attempt to tell him how you felt at all.

Living with him plus his brothers wasn't any help either.

"SAM! Give it back!" You shouted at the middle incubus brother who had snooped in your room and grabbed your journal. He was in one of his teasing moods, and unfortunately Matthew was out of the house. So you got the brunt of his attack.

Sam smirked at you, dangling the journal high up where you couldn't grab it. "Oh yeah? Why don't you just come up and get it?" He taunted. You growled, a snarl pulling onto your face.

"I swear to god Sam-!" You cursed, making another dive for your journal as Sam tried to dangle it closer to you. You failed to grab it as Sam pulled it away just in time for your hands to barely touch it. He let out a cackle of laughter, holding the journal up close to the ceiling, making you huff with annoyance.

"What? You afraid I'll find out all of your little secrets, Y/N?" Sam teased further. You were beginning to lose your patience. You now understood how Matthew felt when being teased by Sam. You really wanted to hit him somewhere it hurts. But you knew better.

Your one mission here, although you were losing, was to keep Sam out of your private thoughts. Although it wasn't a secret, you thought no one else knew of your crush on the eldest incubus brother. You couldn't help it, there was something about him that you just couldn't place. Something that made your heart jump wildly in your chest when the two of you would read together in the library on his days off or when he'd watch your favorite show with you when the other boys wouldn't. Something about your show being too difficult to follow, or whatever that meant. James watched it with you though whenever he could, discussing it in much deeper detail than anyone else could.

But you couldn't tell him about your feelings. They were silly! And besides, the boys meant a lot to you. You weren't about to ruin your peaceful co-existence with them by adding the awkwardness of a failed confession. So that was why you had to keep Sam from reading your journal. Because if your secret was in anyone else's hands, you knew for sure it'd end up back to James somehow. And then where would we be?

"Sam, just please give it back!" You sighed in exasperation as you pleaded once again for Sam to return your belongings.

"No way! You're acting too protective for me to give it back now. I wanna know what Miss Y/N Anderson writes in her little journal-" Sam teased again as he turned to give you a mischievous smirk, failing to realize how low the journal had gotten because of his distraction. You took your chance and reached out for the journal, finally getting a good grip on it.

Sam immediately began to pull back on it, making your grip loosen slightly around the journal. "Come on, I'm just playing around!" He teases again. You grip harder, pulling twice as hard to try and pull your private life from his hands. Albeit, you knew this was a losing battle. Once it was in Sam's hands, you were never getting it back.

"I don't want you looking at my journal Sam!" You shouted again, pulling as hard as you could, refusing to give up even when you knew you were losing. If you could keep James from knowing, even if just a little longer, it was worth the effort to keep your relationship as it was.

"What is going on here?!"

Suddenly you felt Sam's grip on the journal completely fall away, sending you tumbling back and crashing into the wall. You let out a groan of pain, a harsh throbbing beginning from where your head hit the wall. Your journal fell from your hands and laid on the hardwood floors as if cast aside.

James appeared in front of you in the next instant, his whiskey brown eyes filled with worry as he examined you for any injuries. You felt your heart tighten as you watched him, his skin seemingly glistening in the rays of the sun that leaked through the window a few inches to your left. His hair seemed perfectly fallen atop his head, despite being finger-brushed. His touch was gentle as he caressed your shoulders and touched your head to inspect for any damage.

"Thank god you're alright. I don't see anything concerning. Though I have to ask, what was so important to be shouting about?" James spoke beside you, knelt down to your level. His voice was exasperated and filled with mild irritation. You felt your heart sinking as you looked up at him through the corner of your eye, knowing he had no idea how you felt. He never would, and you knew that well.

Your lip quivered as tears threatened to spill from your eyes not from the pain from your fall, but from the fact that you knew you could never tell him how you felt. Usually you'd save these tears for late nights. But something about your feelings almost getting out had turned you into a faucet.

You covered your eyes with one of your hands, desperate not to cry. When your attempt failed, and you felt tears spilling into your hand, you let out a soft gasp and without a second thought you stood up and made a dash for your room, closing the door behind you.

You could hear both James and Sam yelling from behind your door, but you couldn't make yourself care. You locked the door and, for good measure, pulled one of the armchairs in the room to the base of the door to block it from being opened. Just in case they managed to get it unlocked somehow. Although that probably wouldn't help with Sam in the picture, but you weren't exactly thinking clearly.

You breathed heavily, slowly letting yourself sob as you cowered at the foot of your bed. You pulled your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees as you just let yourself cry harder than you can ever remember.

He was perfect. He was the perfect gentleman and you didn't deserve him. You just so happened to be the one he and his brothers had found after being injured by Malix. You were sure he'd treat any and all other girls the same. You weren't special.

You could hear James's voice soften as he continued to call your name and beg to be let inside. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to force his voice from your mind.

"Miss please, open the door. You… you left your journal out here."

You felt your body go rigid as fear entered you and your heart dropped completely into your stomach. How could you be so stupid as to leave your journal outside when it was the only place you poured all of your feelings for the man currently trying to coerce you into opening the damn door? What if he knew?

What were you thinking? He probably already knew! Now you'd never be able to face him again. You'd have to ignore him for the rest of your life.

You groaned and grabbed a pillow from the chair beside your bed and shoved your face into it. Like you could really ignore him for the rest of your life. James wouldn't allow that. If anything, he'd sit you down and then gently tell you that he only sees you as a close friend. God, you could already feel your heart breaking.

You could feel your cheeks brighten with a raging fire of embarrassment. Your cheeks burned as you will yourself to at least shout one last thing to try and remedy the issue. "None of it's real! I didn't mean any of it!"

The room was quiet for a moment, no sound came from either party on either side of the door. You thought for sure he'd taken your words and stood up to walk away. You kind of hoped he had. But that wasn't the case.

A gentle rustling sounded from behind the door, alerting you to the small space between the door and the floor as you saw your journal being pushed into your room.

You stared at it for a moment, unsure of what this was. You were surprised when James spoke up again.

"I didn't read any of it, Y/N. Please, will you let me in?" James replied in a voice that you knew was genuine. He was worried, and you could feel his words lifting your heart slightly out of hope that he didn't know about your hopeless feelings.

You stared at the door for a moment, almost as if you could see the man who was no doubt knelt behind it to try and talk to you. You felt your throat go dry, unsure of anything to say.

Before you could really discern what you were doing, you found yourself on your feet and taking hold of the chair that you had moved in front of the door. You stopped for a moment, trying to decide whether you should truly let him in.

Your heart gave a gentle thump, giving you your answer. You took in a deep breath, closing your eyes for the briefest of moments. When you opened them again, you pulled the chair away from the door and unlocked the door with a single click from the doorknob. You stood in front of the door, waiting for James to turn the knob himself. However, a moment passed and he still didn't open the door. Of course, ever the gentleman.

You took another deep breath in before you rested your hand on the knob and slowly turned it. Upon opening the door, you found James standing there with concern swirling in his eyes. His eyebrows upturned as he gazed at you, probably looking for some sort of answer for your behavior. You sniffled softly and took a step back, looking down at the journal you'd forgotten to pick up.

James's gaze followed yours, reaching down to grab it before holding back out to you. "I believe this belongs to you?" He spoke quietly. Nodding, you take the journal and press it against your chest. The two of you don't move for another couple moments, unsure of what first move to make.

Eventually, you moved first and walked over to your bed, taking a seat. James followed, taking a seat beside you silently. You felt your heart jump at his closeness, before quickly stomping out the rising embers of a crush you knew you couldn't keep stoking.

You sheepishly looked up into his eyes, not finding annoyance or any form of irritation at your behavior. You swallowed hard, wishing he would just say something. Anything.

How was this man real? Incubus or not, he was a complete gentleman and you didn't know how to handle it. Who could blame you for your little crush? It wasn't hard to not fall for him. What with his shining smile, his just messy enough to be sexy hair, his well-kept appearance, the muscles you had a hard time ignoring when he would sit or move. Don't get you started on his personality. He was absolutely perfect, treating you like the princess Erik had dubbed you. And yet, he never complained. He never had one measly complaint about serving or helping you.

But he didn't, obviously giving you the space to speak when you felt like it and to allow you to have his presence to help calm you in the meantime.

And what were you? A simple human girl who managed to have a panic attack over a stupid journal. You weren't sophisticated or well mannered enough for him. You knew that. You just couldn't be his type.

You felt the storm brewing in your chest grow stronger, making it hard not to continue crying now that you've stopped. You rubbed your eyes free from remaining tears, returning your hands to your journal.

"I…" you began, knowing that one of you had to say something or you were both going to stay silent for the rest of the day. "I'm sorry. You shouldn’t have had to see me like that." You managed to say just above a whisper. Anything louder was impossible.

James slowly moved closer to you, his eyes never losing their concern as they continued to gaze upon you. "Don't apologize for your feelings. They're a part of you." James spoke softly, not making any more attempts to get closer to you.

You sigh and look down again. Even now, he couldn't stop being the gentleman you had fallen in love with. You felt completely cared for in that moment, making opening up seem not so bad. You stopped yourself, determined not to burden James with your stupid feelings.

James swallowed for a moment, before he began to speak again as calmly as he could. "What I'm concerned about, is how you're feeling, Y/N. First, I rush upstairs after hearing you and Sam yelling, then you manage to hit your head and run off before I can even evaluate what the situation was." James was concerned about you, that was evident as his body subconsciously moved closer to yours as you tried to put some distance between you by scooting a bit away.

"I'm just worried about you. What did Sam do that troubled you this much?" James continued, his gaze never leaving your form. You continued to stare downwards, trying to think of a way to avoid your feelings. He didn't need to know. It was better that he didn't.

"It…" you began, sighing for a moment as you tried to recollect yourself. "It's nothing, James. Really. Sam was just playing around and took my journal after snooping in my room. It's not that big a deal." You explain, refusing to look him in the eyes. You hoped he would take the bait and drop the conversation, but that was wishful thinking.

James frowned. "But it's hurting you, Y/N. You can't tell me it isn't a big deal if you're still bothered by it. Especially to this degree." James expressed, laying a hand on your shoulder. You wanted it so badly to have caressed your cheek instead. The thought almost had you in tears.

"You don't get it… It isn't a big deal, cause it only affects me." You respond softly with a small white lie, sniffling as tears try to escape again. James's hand tightened a bit at your comment, taking a deep breath out of disbelief.

"What? You can't be serious, Y/N. Of course it affects us. Your well-being and safety are my brothers and I's top priority. You mean a lot to us. A lot… to me. " James spoke earnestly, looking away as he finished his statement. What? What did he mean by that?

You made yourself look at him, confused as to what he had meant. Before you could ask, he spoke again. "Just… just know we all care about you. Even Sam. Although he sometimes has a hard time showing it." James added, grumbling as he mentioned his middle brother.

You took another breath, your mind completely occupied with trying to decipher what James had meant before. "I… James…" you began, unsure of how to inquire what he had meant. "W-what did you mean before, when you said that I meant a-a lot to you?" You manage to ask. James's eyes widened at your question, swallowing nervously.

"I-I… it's uh…" he began, seeming to swap his demeanor with you. "You are special to everyone, t-that is…uh…" James added, his cheeks growing slightly pink with embarrassment.

You couldn't believe your ears or your eyes. Was… was James blushing? Avoiding your question as though there was more that he was keeping from you?

You scoot closer to him, a newfound confidence blooming inside you. Could he just so happen to feel the same? And you were just blind to it all this time?

"I know I'm special to you boys. But you said I was specifically special to you…" you reiterated, hoping that you weren't making the issue worse.

James blushed harder at your closeness, but he didn't move. He just swallowed and averted his eyes. "Y-yes…I…" he started, sighing in defeat. "There is no way I'm getting out of this, is there?" He asked no one in particular. You shook your head, a new playful mood taking hold of you. James looked up into your eyes, a smile pulling onto his lips. "Well at least you've cheered up." He says softly. You smile gently, staying silent out of respect for the eldest incubi.

James's whiskey colored eyes filled with doubt and a small twinge of… fear? You couldn't help but feel dumbfounded at that. Fear? Of what?

"Y/N…" he began, his eyes finding yours and staring intently into them. "You mean a lot to me. Our time together is my favorite thing in this world and the next. The thought of spending time with you, whether it be reading some new novel you've found or watching that show when the new episodes come out, it makes my day that much better just by thinking of you."

You felt your heart squeeze with a new hope. He… he really enjoyed your time together that much? You looked down at his hand that remained in his lap, finding it clenched tightly in a nervous fist.

James looked away, taking his hand and running it through his hair nervously. "I believe what I'm trying to say is… I… I like you a lot, Y/N. More than I probably should." James spoke, finally looking into your eyes as he spoke. In almost a split second, everything slipped into place. You stared at James, dumbfounded. Was he seriously confessing to you right now?!

James sighed almost in defeat, finding it in himself to look back into your eyes. "I don't expect you to fully reciprocate, Y/N. Please, don't feel that you have to. You just… you deserve to know that people care about you. More than you believe that they should." James expressed with a look of determination that quickly overtook his doubt.

You stared back at him, dumbfounded and in shock once again. This man was seriously surprising you again. He felt the same way? Seriously? Your silly little crush wasn't just a crush? You scrambled through your mind to try and communicate that you truly did reciprocate, coming up with blanks for a few seconds.

Then, it hit you. The realization almost hits you like a truck.

You pull your journal from your chest and quickly open it, surprising James with the sudden movement. He raises an eyebrow, confused as to what you're doing.

"Miss--What are you–" he started, never actually finishing his statement as you had flipped to the page you were looking for.

"Tuesday the 16th, I cannot keep living like this. Every moment I spend with him is another moment where I can't stop looking at him with the undeniable urge to kiss him. I can't hear him speak to me without wondering just what it would be like for him to call me something other than 'Miss'. I can't help but wonder what sweet nothings he would say to me and only me if only I were his. This is absolute torture. What did I ever do to deserve him?" You finish the page, flipping it quickly. James stares at you, unsure of how to even begin as you begin another page.

"Thursday the 18th, he sat beside me today. It wasn't that big a deal, we were just watching some new show. But I couldn't stop thinking about what it would look like if he were the guy I was watching on the screen and I was the leading woman. His love interest. And then he goes and smiles at me with that damned sunshine-personified smile that melts my insides and turns me into moldable putty. If he asked me to do anything, all he'd have to do is flash me that smile and I'm a goner.How can he not know the power he holds?" You read, not even looking at James at this point, turning to the next page and reading the next entry.

"Friday the 19th, I cannot keep doing this to myself. He just made breakfast. But he was such a gentleman while doing it. Don't get me started on how he looked in that apron, I can't get that image out of my head. He made my pancakes seperate from the rest, adding blueberries to mine while the others had plain ones. What did I do to deserve having this man in my life? I don't deserve him, I don't think I ever will." You finished the third entry, ready to go onto the next, but you saw James's hand lay itself onto your journal, stopping you from continuing. You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him, seeing him staring intently at you with his loveable whiskey brown eyes.

He didn't speak, his eyes seemingly searching for answers in yours. You look down at his hand and place yours on top of his. You gathered what confidence that remained in your chest and spoke up again.

"Page after page of my gushing over how much I like you and how much I wish I could just kiss you and it have no consequences. Pages of my shameless rambling over a man I have wanted since I met him. That's what I didn't want Sam to see. I didn't want him reading this and then going running to you. Because then… if you didn't feel the same?" You paused, looking away as you began to lose confidence with James's lack of a reaction.

"Then life wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't be able to look at you without knowing I screwed things up by having stupid feelings. I wouldn't be able to sit and read with you in silence knowing I ruined everything by having feelings for a demon when I'm just some measly human-" you continued to rant, growing frantic and slightly louder as you unloaded almost years of uncertainty upon the object of your affections.

The thing that stopped you, however, was the sudden touch of his lips against yours.

Completely blindsided, you widen your eyes at the sudden kiss. Soon, however, you melt into it, feeling James's lips soften and press slightly harder back against yours. You tilt your head just a bit, pressing your lips back against his own. You lean closer to him, raising one of your hands and placing it on the back of his head and pulling him closer to you. You don't feel the drain of your energy that you'd come to expect from an incubi kiss, but instead feel the spark of something in your core. Like a fire being relit after having been stomped out one too many times.

James lifts his hand from where it had laid on your shoulder and laid it on your cheek, cupping your face in his palm. Your heart began to pump faster in your chest, feeling as though it might give out. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him and practically into his lap. You didn't mind. You wanted this, you wanted to be as close to him as possible.

Your lips danced with each other, his tongue brushing against your lips and asking for permission to deepen it. You don't think twice. You press yourself closer to him, pulling his face closer to yours. It was perfect, the kiss was everything you dreamed of. It was a shame it had to end.

James finally pulled away after a few moments, panting as he had run out of breath. A string of saliva connected your mouths, reminding you of the previous moment's events He stared at you unblinking, his eyes slightly blown with a want. A need.

After a moment of catching his breath, James's hand left your waist and pulled your hand from his neck and held it close. "You… are not just…'some measly human', Y/N. You are everything to me. I will not let you put yourself down like that." He insists, staring directly into your eyes with a newfound determination.

"...James…" you reply, feeling your heart pounding again in your chest somehow faster than it had during your kiss.

"I wish I had known how you felt sooner. Then maybe we could have avoided you and Sam wrestling over a journal. Maybe then… this wouldn't have to feel so rushed." James added, his free hand leaving your cheek and rubbing his neck awkwardly. As he looks away from you, you lean in and press a gentler kiss to his cheek, catching his attention again.

"Nothing can change how I see you, Y/N. You are an amazing woman and I am honored that you let us stay here. That we are allowed occupancy in your home despite being what we are. You may not see it, but when I look at you I see the most beautiful woman in all five worlds. You talk of my smile? Yours could bring me to my knees if you commanded it." James rattled off in earnest, smiling brightly as he described just how much he cared for you. Maybe, maybe even loved you.

"It's okay, James. I'm fine. I told you, the journal wasn't that big a deal. I was just worried you'd find out and then-" you began again, quickly getting cut off by James.

"James… I…" you stop, smiling and gasping as you try to come up with a reply. He shook his head.

"You don't have to keep convincing me, Y/N. I am yours, for as long as you want me. I will remain by your side till the end of time should you wish for it." James replied, his hand reaching up to your cheek again and cupping your face. "You, are the light of my life. I don't know what I'd do without you." James looked into your eyes lovingly, almost squandering the remaining doubt inside your chest. His next words completely silenced them.

"I love you, Y/N."

You felt a sob catch in your throat and you immediately swallowed it, tears flowing from your eyes soon after. James widened his eyes at the sudden appearance of your tears, looking into your eyes in hopes that he hadn't upset you. Before he could speak, you lean in again and kiss him tearfully. His hesitance melted away once more as he gently kissed you again, somehow pulling you even closer.

"Oy, could you lovebirds knock it off? Somebody still needs to make lunch." Sam's voice echoed into the room, quickly ruining the moment. You didn't have to be Damien to feel the anger radiating off of James as he pulled away and turned to his brother with a hardened glare.

"Then why don't you make it, Sam? You're perfectly capable of cooking yourself." James retorted, clearly annoyed that his moment with you was ruined. Sam gave his eldest brother a look of annoyance.

"But isn't it supposed to be your job? I tried cooking and you got mad at me for making a mess!" Sam reminded, only making his situation worse. James huffed, almost growling.

"Then be careful to NOT make a mess while you do it. I'm busy." James snapped, his hold on your hand remaining but tightening at the annoyance of his brother. Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Fine. I'll just tell you that again later when you get mad that the kitchen's a wreck." Sam tossed back, soon after heading back down the stairs and clearly to the kitchen. James huffed again, turning his head back to you.

"I swear it's like I live with ruffians." James growled. You giggled softly and kissed his cheek. James soon let go of his anger and instead looked at you with love.

"I love you too, James." You spoke gently, catching him off guard for a moment. His whiskey irises danced with the wonder of your statement as he began to smile.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his smile bright and happy. You smiled back, realizing that no words needed to be said.

"JAMES! HELP! Sam tried to make spaghetti, and the sauce is literally everywhere!" Matthew's voice called back up the stairs, sounding urgent. You rolled your eyes, snickering. James grumbled and sat back, shaking his head.

"I cannot even take five minutes for myself." James muttered under his breath. He stood up, his hands leaving you reluctantly. You stood after him, standing beside him.

"It's alright. It's to be expected." You began, giggling as you thought of Sam somehow spraying the spaghetti sauce all over the kitchen. You place your hand in his and smile. "Nothing we can't fix."

James looked at you and smiled again, squeezing your hand. "Alright. Now let's see just how much of a mess we're dealing with here." He sighed, pulling you alongside him as you both made your way downstairs into the fray.

74 notes · View notes

moonflower-31 · 2 years

Text

Future Challenges

So I figured I'd share all the challenges I have written down to do in the faaaar future, depending on how fast I get through them. (If I do)

These are all legacy challenges and there are 108 of them. I will try to tag the creators if I can. I know some of them are deactivated accounts. Some of them just won't link so I'll make sure to mention when they're deactivated.

-=+=-

Numbers:

20 Gen. Disney Princess • @ simsxine

A Different Kind Of Jam • @ nadzicle

Alice in Wonderland • harleyquinnsims on ModTheSims

All That Weather • @ christiancloudy

Animal Crossing • @ asplashofsims

Animal Crossing • @ mysticallysims

Astrology Legacy • @ tainoodles

Autumn Legacy • @ mooshierooshie (Only has Gen 1 written so far)

Autumn Time • @ harvestton

Avatar Legacy • @ hessobbingincabo

Bad To Good • latenel on thesimsforums

Boba Tea • @ bestiejermaine

Cats And Dogs Flavor Legacy • @ viyaniah

Chromatic Legacy • @ starrynight-simblr

Cocoa Legacy • @ apollonsims

Colors Of Nature • @ gloamsims

Conspiracy Legacy • @ christiancloudy

Crayola Crayons • @ pixiegarden

Crybaby Whims • @ draeyad

Crystals Legacy • @ sinister-simister

Cycle of a Star Legacy • @ aboxfullofocs

Days Of The Week • @ simcloudlogic

Differences In The Family Tree • @ samtastic-sims

Disney Princess • @ bestiejermaine

Disney Sidekick • @ thedancingsim

Disney Villain • @ olivia-porta

Dungeons And Dragons • @ demonicrosebushsims

Eevee Legacy • @ bluupxls

Elements Legacy • @ simbee-archive (in the archive it's a tag option and you'll have to scroll down a bit but it's a text post and the one I'm referencing is the Updated Elements Legacy)

Elements Legacy • @ camisimming

Encanto Legacy • @ simswrapped

Everything BUT Normal Legacy • @ simsillie

Expansion Legacy • @ sims4expansionlegacy

Explorer Legacy • @ 1trashplant1 (Deactivated but the rules are easy to find)

F.R.I.E.N.D.S Legacy • ceinwynie on thesimsforums

Fairytale Legacy • just-a-space-guy blog (not tumblr)

Familiar Legacy • @ anxiousmoodlet

Family Dynamics • @ pastellapixels

Family Values • @ nuzzle-nip

Fine Line Legacy • @ misssimreno

Flower Legacy • @ kiwilyz

Flower Symbolism Legacy • @ coolunspokenforname

Follow The Yellow Brick Road • @ gottacatchemallsims

Fruit Legacy • @ simminglena

Garden Legacy 2 • @ cowplant-pizza

Gemstone Legacy • @ soundasleepsims

Generational Gardens Legacy • @ supernaturalsimmer34

Goth Rainbowcy • @ namea

Greek God Legacy • @ vesperzev

Halloween Legacy • @ anxiousplumbob

Harry Potter Legacy • @ clovervalley

Holiday Legacy • @ simssprout

Into The Woods • @ suxela (deactivated) @ simschallenges reposted

Isle Of The Midnight Sun • blanksim moved to @ softerhaze

It Girls Legacy • @ wlscarah

Life Berry Legacy • @ nothernobility

Lifelines And Legacies • @ urnooboo

Lifestyle Legacy • virtualee on wordpress

Loving Legacy • @ caththenerdo (Only has Gen 1 written so far)

Lucky 13 • @ iconsimmer

Marvel Legacy • @ midnight-whiskers

Mermaid Legacy • illusorythrall on wordpress

Mermaidia Legacy • @ hzele-archive

Mix'n'Match Legacy • @ starry-sky-sims

Mood Legacy • @ ciaobellasim

Mystical Legacy • @ phoinexviapink

Neighborhood Legacy • @ justkeeponsimming

Norse Mythology Legacy • @ lizardactuallysims

Not So Berry 2 • @ simmer-emsie

Not So Berry Expansion Legacy • @ Rebecka Karlsson on FB

Not So Berry • @ lilsimsie

Not So Berry Remix • @ ryebread-sims

Not So Berry Updated • @ sweetlysimss

Occult Legacy • @ serenabeaniesims

Olympus Legacy • @ honeyrose-sims

The Originals Legacy • @ happysimmer

Pastel Rainbowcy • @ sweetlysimss

Photograph Legacy • @ angrycupcakellama

Planets Legacy • @ connieefletcher

Planets Legacy • @ grnitefalls (deactivated) @ theworldof-sims-4-challanges reposted

Plumgo Legacy • @ plumgo

Post Card Legacy • @ sojuteatime

Rainbow Of Excellence • @ meggyreap

Rainbowsin Legacy • @ daisydezem

Secret Garden • @ sulx2

Seven Deadly Sins • @ simvanie

Sims In Bloom • @ a-sims-garden

So Sour Legacy • @ moresiana #sosourlegacy

Solar Legacy • @ neon-sims

Something Precious • @ precious-plumbobs

Sour Legacy • @ dizzywhims

So Sour Legacy • @ moresiana

Space Legacy • @ simsandstrawberries

Spice Of Life • @ niccymo

Spring into Summer; Fall into Winter • @ frecklesandpixels (deactivated) @ simmingbee reposted

Squishmallow Legacy • @ yeeyeecowboiiii

Star Story • @ phoinexviapink

Stardew Valley • @ chellplays

Stereotypes Legacy • @ carolinessimscreations (deactivated) @ jessimaysavefile reposted

Strike Out • @ spicasims

Such Colorful Lives • @ starry-sky-sims

Swiftacy Legacy • @ gillysims

Tea Legacy • @ stressedoutsimmer

Through The Ages • @ ericanoelle

Trinity Legacy • @ ayrthwil

TV Shows Legacy • @ simbee-archive

Undertale Legacy • @ melian

Very Berry Legacy • @ annymousstranger17

Whimsy Stories • @ kateraed

Whimsy Stories Expanded • @ lysiablr

Winx Legacy • @ macaroonsims

Wow We Love Space • @ hollisims

-=+=-

And that is all 111 of them!

There is so many, I don't know where I'll find the time. If any of these are wrong or you can't find them please let me know and I'll fix this post, enjoy!

Also, tumblr doesn't like a lot of @'s so I split them up lol

ps: I put them into alphabetical order because I thought it looked nicer :)

418 notes · View notes

moonflower-31 · 2 years

Text

Gabriel (Supernatural) Masterlist

Gabriel series, one shots and drabbles; from yours truly. Updated as of: 24/02/2019

Keep reading

428 notes · View notes

moonflower-31 · 2 years

Text

a few reminders because i’m tired and angry

fandom is a hobby, not a form of activism

adult women aren’t inherently creepy for being in fandom and having hobbies apart from raising babies and doing taxes

the vast majority of people pushing back against the worrying trend of instigating harassment over fictional characters and relationships aren’t incest supporters or pedophiles, actually

liking a m/f ship doesn’t make someone a dirty heterosexual invading your space

preferring gay ships doesn’t make you ‘’woke’’ and good

no one owes you a disclaimer that they are a good person who recognizes that their favorite fictional villain’s actions are evil and that they don’t condone those actions irl

liking a fictional villain is in no way comparable to advocating abuse/murder/genocide/etc and you’re a fucking idiot if you believe that

just because a woman is attracted to a fictional villain doesn’t mean she’s promoting toxic relationships or going to end up in a toxic relationship. assuming women can’t tell fiction and reality apart stinks of internalized misogyny

some rando’s a/b/o fanfics have none of the level of influence that popular tv shows and movies spreading propaganda have

no one owes you a detailed description of their traumas and mental health problems

abusive relationships are not the same as enemies to lovers ships

y’all need to chill the fuck out over people, relationships, actions and events that don’t actually exist and learn how to enjoy and discuss them like normal people

fandom is a hobby, not a form of activism

feel free to add more

103K notes · View notes

moonflower-31 · 2 years

Note

Has Pen Pals part 4 come out yet?

Not yet! Life has dealt me a difficult hand these past few months 😅

I hope you all understand. I'll try to get the inspiration soon, but it'll be a few weeks. Thank you for your patience!

3 notes · View notes

moonflower-31 · 2 years

Text

Pen Pals - Spencer Reid x Reader

Part 2

Part 3

Ongoing!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, normal stuff

Tags: @thatsonezesty13 , @egg-boy03 , @idjitlili , @meowiemari , @meganskane , @lonelyran , @rainsong01 , let me know if I missed you or if you wanna be added to the list!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.” - Confucius

“Alright, that should be the last of the paperwork. I’ll get this processed by my superior and then you’ll get to fly out to Stafford and move in.” The man in front of you spoke. His hair was slicked back and his eyes were kind. Making it easier to go through with the simple betrayal you had settled upon. You were moving out. Out of state and away from the farm. And you were taking at least half a year off before going to med school. If you even went at all.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Yarborough,” You spoke as professionally as you could manage, despite your legs shaking with anxiety. You hadn’t gone out to do something like this on your own since you’d had to apply for college through a computer at the library. Your parents were somewhat anti-tech in your house. The phones were one thing. But to have a computer in the house? Anything beyond basic cable? The devil.

“Of course. Since you’ll be applying to school again within the next year, your monthly rent will be lessened along with your agreement for one to two roomates.” Mr. Yarborough restated, reminding you of the agreement you’d just made. You hardly had any friends, being the loser that you’d been in both highschool and college. So, maybe some forced interaction would bring about something good.

“Thank you again for coming out here. I wish I had reliable internet access but unfortunately, I don’t.” You thank Mr. Yarborough, reaching out and offering him your hand to shake. The man smiled, stood up, and took your hand and shook it firmly.

“Why of course. As your agent I have contacts all across the country for real estate opportunities. Even out in Stafford Virginia.” Yarborough laughed, letting your hand go after a brief moment. “Though I assume that this will be our last meeting, since you’ll be moving in within the next two weeks or so. I wish you luck.”

You smiled warmly, awkwardly fixing your slid blouse sleeve back onto your shoulder as you tried to make it through this seemingly simple interaction. It was uncomfortable, the blouse was too. All the clothes your mother often picked out for you were overly feminine and were supposed to be ‘modest’.

Nevertheless, you let your hand return to your side and fixed the bit of your hair that had fallen into your face. You say your goodbyes as quickly as you could, heading back out to your borrowed car. You put your key into the slot and turn the car on. The engine roars to life, starting the familiar shaking the car always managed to do despite your father’s best attempts to fix it. It was semi calming, allowing you to finally take a deep breath.

You carefully backed out of the line of stores and rumbled onto the road. There was no point in starting the air conditioner or the radio, as neither worked. So you were stuck in the old car, waiting for the light to change. Stuck alone with your thoughts.

Part of you felt absolutely terrible for plotting your move behind your parents’ backs. But the other part of you knew it was necessary. If you didn’t leave the house, let alone the state, you would never have a life of your own. Your parents would control it until they died. Which meant whomever you married had to be a man who was good with his hands. They wouldn’t except anyone else. Gender or otherwise, despite your constant pleadings.

You’d barely even managed to get out of your chores this morning. Your father had been hellbent on you helping with yet another day of harvest, but you’d managed to convince them you were meeting with a guidance counselor for a medical school nearby. That was enough to keep them off your back and allow you to take the family car. Well, the only other car besides your father’s pick up. But that thing was untouchable.

At least you had the good news of your departure to Virginia in a couple of weeks. Soon, you’d be out of the nest and on your own. Finally. With enough allowance and odd-end job money saved up, you were sure you could afford a used car that was big enough to hold all your boxes in one trip. Which wouldn’t be hard since most of what you were taking was going to be books and clothes.

The reality hadn’t set in yet, but you knew it was coming. With your down-payment set in stone for Cresent Pointe Apartments, along with your appointment with a nearby used car dealership within the next week, you’d have a completely different life within the next month.

As the cars in front of you began to move, you took a deep breath, letting your mind wander to other areas of your life. You tried to think of anything you might miss. Anything you might long for once you’d left for good. But the daunting realization hit you with almost a feed-bag’s weight of force: There was nothing you were going to miss here. Nothing. You had no friends. You had no job that was going to miss you. No connections that meant much of anything. Just a college doctorate that you’d be taking with you regardless. It hit you even harder when you realized you weren’t going to miss your parents. You wanted to. But the thought of leaving them didn’t fill you with remorse or brief feelings of doubt for having to go so far. It filled you with dread that they’d find out you’d moved farther than you’d told them and they’d demand that you come home.

You blinked for a moment, mindlessly watching the road and soon turning to drive down the gravel road that would lead you back to your parent’s house within a mile or so. It was noon, meaning the mail would be showing up soon. You’d been trying your hardest to withhold your excitement for the past few days when the mail would arrive. Any hint that you had someone you were talking to that your parents hadn’t met, and you would be instantly grounded and told never to contact him again. They’d probably make you send a goodbye letter too.

But never the less, each day brought the exciting prospect that you could have a new letter to add to your other one. You wondered what he’d say. If he’d answered your questions about what to do. Where he worked. Even if he hadn’t, it was all very exciting.

It was with this excitement that you found yourself driving just a bit faster than you should be, quickly correcting yourself as you turned into your parent’s driveway and parked in the garage. You should’ve checked the mailbox when you’d been at the bottom of the hill, but you had a feeling your mother had the mail. Which slightly made you nervous. But maybe Spencer’s doctor title would ease their concerns. They could assume he was a doctor that worked with the med school you were supposed to be applying to.

You quickly turned the rumbling car off and exited it, heading inside through the garage door. You took your shoes off and placed them beside the door, craning your neck to look for any sign of your mother or the mail. Unluckily for you, you found your mother standing at the dining room table with the mail on said table.

“(Y/N), darling, you’ve got a letter.” Your mother’s voice called, seeming to already know it was you who had just arrived back. So you had gotten a letter, but your mother had it. Shit.

“I did? Oh, well thank you.” You said, hoping your excitement wasn’t bleeding into your voice as you approached her. “Can I have it?” You ask, growing worried when your mother didn’t immediately hand it over.

“It’s from some doctor. His name is Spencer Reid. Have you heard of him?” Your mother asked. “It might be spam mail. I want to be certain before I give it to you, dear.”

You cursed mentally. You knew this would happen. Your little story of Spencer being a teacher or doctor working with some university would have to work.

“Yes I have. H-he’s actually an admissions counselor. He works for OSU.” You say, lying through your teeth. Your mother’s brow furrows, not completely buying your story.

“How is he a counselor for OSU? His address is from Virginia.” Your mother asks, growing wary and suspicious. You had to fix this now. Or otherwise your letter would end up in the trash. And you’d end up grounded for lying.

“W-well, you can be an admissions counselor even if you don’t live in a state where that university resides. All he has to do is send letters and emails. P-promise.” You insist, praying that she’d take the false story and leave it alone.

Your mother looked back at the letter and sighed, shaking her head. “Technology these days. At least this man has the decency to still write hand-written letters.” Your mother scoffed, handing the envelope to you. “If it’s an acceptance letter, let your father and I know.” She then disappeared into the living room with the rest of the mail, leaving you to let out a sigh of relief.

That was way too close.

You stifled a giggle of excitement before you began to head up the stairs to your room. You headed into your room with the letter pressed to your chest, finally letting out a soft giggle as you closed your bedroom door. You rushed to your desk, taking a frenzied seat. You grabbed your letter opener, quickly ripping the envelope open and pulling out the letter that laid inside.

You took a deep breath, wanting to ensure you didn't rip the paper. Gently, you unfolded it and began to read with a smile cemented onto your face.

Hello again. It is a pleasure to hear from you. 26/09/2010

I was worried that my vast education had scared you away. Not many people find geniuses easy to talk to.

To answer your question, I am 28. I will be 29 this coming October. I suppose that should be enough proof that I am indeed not a ten year old. I hope I'm not crossing any boundaries, but may I know when your birthday is?

I am also very happy to have received your letters, however annoying it was at first. My mother signed me up for the penpal program when I was young. Somehow my name wasn’t given to anyone until you. In complete honesty, I’m glad it was you.

It is exciting to receive your first doctorate. Mine was Mathematics, an exciting course in my opinion. However, the more I received, the excitement dwindled. But I suppose that’s what happens when you go through something enough times. It becomes second nature. But don’t let that discourage you from taking another round of classes. It is important to keep learning, even if that information doesn’t come from hour long lectures.

I have an impeccable taste for any old literature from at least before the 20th century. The least technologically advanced, the better. No one seems to understand that, not even my friends. But at least I have my books to keep me company. I’m both surprised and happy to know we both share a love for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It’s hard to find anyone who loves him beyond his obvious works on Sherlock Holmes, however amazing they may be.

I work for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, or BAU for short. I’m what we call a profiler. We take studied cases of people and behavior clusters to catch serial killers. That, would be how I could figure out how many of Doyle’s books you’ve read, not my memory.

My PhD’s are Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering. Furthermore, my BA’s are in Psychology, Sociology, and most recently, Philosophy. Scared of me yet?

I can’t tell you whether or not to go to med school. It’s a good opportunity, but you shouldn’t do something you don’t want to do. Studies show that choosing a career path that is unfufilling can lead to cases of depression and mental illness later in life. Often causing what people tend to call a ‘Mid-life Crisis’.

My advice is to do what you enjoy. If med school isn’t for you, find another topic or major that interests you. I hear that Chemistry is an easier course than medical school. I do believe you’d be in lab more than you would be if you enrolled in med school. Chemistry, in my opinion, was one of my easier doctorates. So I can most definitely help you, should you go that far.

I can’t give much advice on whether or not to move out of your parents residence. I moved out at 18, although unwillingly. Moving out, early or otherwise, is shown to promote independence, ensure privacy if you choose to live alone, As well as ensure you can talk to and be who you want. You may miss your parents, but it is your life. You should get a say in how it goes.

I wrote a little too much for this one page, so I will have to close for now. I hope to hear from you soon. Don’t take too long to write, I’m eager to find out your decision on your next adventure. :)

Regards,

Spencer Reid

~~~

Since you’ve read his most popular works, Here’s some of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s lesser known works I think you would enjoy.

-The Tragedy of the Korosko

-The Maracot Deep

-Tales of Unease

-The Poison Belt

You giggle with an even bigger burst of excitement. He had written on both sides of the paper! He really got into his advice. It made you wonder if he felt deprived of that ability elsewhere in his life.

But an FBI profiler? Who would’ve thought! No wonder he could guess how you’d snuck a bit of research when you’d visited the library a few days ago. What? You were curious. You thought that he had been the doctor that had been the first name to pop up upon Googling his name and title based on his vocabulary. How lucky were you that you’d gotten a fricking genius as a penpal?!

You smiled at the list of books that Spencer had penned at the very end of his letter. Somehow, he’d managed to pick out the ones you hadn’t read as of yet. Though something told you that was his profiling at work.

His words seemed to resonate with you, reminding you that this life was yours. That no one could dictate what you do. (Other than the law, but some people disregarded that. You guess that’s where Spencer steps in.)

You didn’t have to listen to your parents. Whether they liked it or not you were going to move out. You were 23! Almost 24. It was time you left and started your life. They can’t hold you back anymore. You were no longer a child. The moment you stopped living under their roof was the moment your life would begin. The only reason you’d studied Biology for so long was because you wanted to prolong your time before your parents would expect you to enroll in med school. If that wasn’t any indication that you didn’t want this, then what was?

“(Y/N)? Honey? You’ve been up there a long time. Is it an acceptance letter?”

You jumped at your mother’s sudden voice, taking a slow breath. Maybe it was time you told them. Better to come clean now, than to drop the bomb on them later. You didn’t know what you were going to go back to school for, but it was definitely not going to be med school.

—-----

The jet’s engine had a slow hum that was easy to ignore, but calming to focus on. Spencer leaned his head back against the familiar seat, a book on the table in front of him now long forgotten. The genius had closed his eyes just a moment before, sleep heavy in his eyes. Within the last weeks, the team had been on two back to back cases. One in Atlanta Georgia, and then one in ‘their own backyard’, or Bristol Virginia. The only reason they were even flying back to Quantico was because it would be a five hour drive if they didn’t. A drive Spencer was glad they didn’t take. He hated driving.

The jet’s engine, something Reid had never tried to listen to before, he suddenly found himself analyzing what the different sounds might mean. Whether sounds meant differing movement, or turbulence. Despite his ability to read as quickly as he did, his eyes were tired and the letters had begun to swirl on the page. That had been enough to make him put the book down. No need to get vertigo from a book page, however good the book might've been.

“So, you ever gonna tell us why you’ve been rushing to get home after every case? You got a special friend?” Derek’s voice started up, pulling an subconscious groan from Spencer’s lips. He lifted his head, suddenly realizing with the way the light began to strain at his eyes that he was having one of his headaches. The headache was probably why he couldn’t read without the words doing cartwheels on the pages.

“I don’t have to inform you on every new person in my life, Morgan. I don’t recall you telling me every time you went home with a girl.” Spencer points out with a bit of an edge to his voice. Reid grumbled under his breath as he tried to convince himself to be present, rubbing his eyes free from the sleep that had tried to creep up on him. He grimaced as the throbbing in his head grew sharper, sending a heavy wave of dizziness washing over him. He hung his head lower, hoping to chase away any indications that something was wrong.

“Oh don’t do that, man. I just wanna know if our resident genius has a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. I won’t judge.” Derek spoke again. Spencer held back a groan, although glad to know he had support should he ever find a boyfriend rather than a girlfriend.

If he didn’t look up at Morgan in the next few seconds he’d ask what’s wrong. Then he’d have to formulate a lie to get him to back off. And currently, Spencer did not have the mental capacity to do so after how draining his headaches were.

Slowly, he lifted his head and forced himself to open his eyes, although he immediately squinted upon the introduction of the jet's bright light. “For your information, I don’t. I’m allowed to hang out with friends and it not be a date.” Spencer grumbles, squinting at Morgan. Why must they keep the jet so brightly lit? Especially at night? Couldn't they just dim the lights a little bit?

Morgan’s playful smile slightly fell at Spencer’s squinting, blinking in concern. “Well, I feel a little hurt you didn’t invite me to this 'hang out' of yours. I mean, I invited you out but you turned me down, kid. Brushing me off for somebody else? Kinda makes me think you got a partner.” Derek says, adjusting his seat closest to the window so that he could lay back a bit. He took his headphones in his hands, getting ready to place them around his neck.

“I don’t–” Spencer hissed, biting back the rest of his reply, as he realized the rest of the team had caught wind of their conversation. Seems like whenever it concerned him and his personal life, it was everybody’s business. He sighed, rolling his eyes. He leaned closer to Derek and lowered his voice. “I don’t have a partner, Derek. I didn’t invite you because there wasn’t a hang out to begin with. Some people still write, you know.” Spencer hissed, adding an edge to his voice to give some sort of hint that he was not a fan of this investigation into his personal life.

Derek raised an eyebrow, pausing in his attempt to put his headphones back around his neck. “Write? Like, letters?” He asked curiously. Spencer widened his eyes and closed them with the sudden realization of what he’d just admitted.

"Shit…" Spencer whispered under his breath. Derek’s smile returned brighter than ever, knowing and cheeky, Spencer put his face in his hands, groaning at both the pain and the annoyance that he’d just let his secret out in front of the team.

“Who’s writing letters?” Hotch suddenly asked, turning to look at them from his seat across from them.

“Apparently this ‘friend’ of Reid’s. They communicate through snail mail. That’s like, perfect for you, isn’t it pretty boy?” Morgan answered and teased. Reid let out another soft groan.

“Come on Morgan! I’m allowed to like simple things! It’s refreshing to actually write letters to someone other than my mom.” Reid insisted in a slightly higher pitched tone, his eyes wide as he quickly grew tired of Morgan’s meddling.

“Yeah, but it’s cute, man. So who are they? If they ain’t your partner?” Morgan asked, his teasing only slight. Spencer rolled his eyes, glancing to the other side of the jet to see if he had any back-up. To his dismay, he instead had two interested parties staring back at him in hopes he would figuratively ‘Spill the Beans’. They even had Garcia on the monitor, eyes filled with intrigue.

Spencer looked out the window for a moment and sighed. There was no getting them to let it go. Especially Garcia. “Okay well,” He started, causing everyone to lean closer. “I didn’t plan on it, but apparently my mom signed me up for this… penpal program thing when I was younger. They didn’t give my name out until a few weeks ago. Apparently switching to digital mixed up a few things. They gave it to a woman named (Y/N) (L/N). She contacted me, and I replied. We’ve been exchanging letters since.” Spencer explained, looking between the team for their reactions.

“That… has to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Emily spoke, looking from Reid to Rossi.

“You don’t get experiences like that every day. Did you thank your mom?” Rossi asked, his arms resting on his knees as he tries to face the rest of the team.

“Yeah I did.” Spencer replied.

“What’s she like? Is she just as nerdy as you?” Garcia asked, smiling. Suddenly, she gasps and her smile grows even bigger. “Did you want me to look her up for you? I’ll uncover everything! Right down to her favorite color-”

A brief wave of panic runs through him. “No!” He exclaimed suddenly. The team looks at him bewildered, causing a pit of anxiety to slowly form in his stomach.

“I-I want to find out more through her letters, Garcia. Not by an internet search.” He paused, taking a deep breath, finding himself smiling. “I don’t know her favorite color yet. Maybe that’s what I should ask next.”

Morgan smiled. “Atta boy. Takin’ it slow.” Spencer smiled back, relieved Morgan didn’t say more. Although he was slightly miffed that Morgan insinuated that they were actually long distance lovers.

“Alright, Junior G Man. Just know she’s just a click away.” Garcia reminds, her face lit up with a mischievous wonder. Reid turned his face away, finding himself unable to hide his smile.

“Does that mean you’re not gonna tell us about her?” Rossi spoke, looking back at the genius. Reid looked back towards the team with a smirk forming on his face that he tried to fight. He waits a long moment, making a face of consideration.

“Well? Come on kid, don’t leave us hanging.” Morgan spoke up. Reid further held back a knowing smile as he finally opened his mouth to reply.

“Sure, I'll tell you everything–" Spencer teased, rolling his eyes playfully. "No! Did you really think I was going to share her information with you when you just offered to snoop into her life for me? Heck no!” Spencer laughed again. “I’m allowed some secrets of my own, you guys.” Reid teased, causing the rest of the team to collectively groan in disappointment.

Hotch smiled softly for a moment, laughing. “I think it’s safe to say he’s not going to tell us any time soon.”

"Though there is room to hope you'll tell us one day, right Reid?" Emily asked.

Spencer chuckled. "One day, key word."

Spencer’s laugh slowly dies, his eyes still creased with joy as the team turns back to their activities. His smile remained on his face, glad to have finally gotten some payback for the years of playful teasing.

As Reid felt his laughter settle, he found that the thought of (Y/N) still left him with a fondness that he couldn’t quite explain. It couldn’t be what Morgan was insinuating.

Sure, Reid had partners before. Mostly girlfriends, but either way they didn’t last long. The relationships often ended on the other end, and often due to elements of his life. His job, education, PhDs, etc. Some of it was too daunting. Some of it was too time consuming. So he had closed off the idea of a partner, man or woman. If the opportunity arose, then he’d consider it. He found himself comfortable in his single life.

But this feeling… This feeling was different.

Reid decided to look back to his book, surprising himself when he didn’t feel his headache anymore. Scratch that, he did feel it, but not as strongly as before.

Guess that’s why distraction can be seen as a treatment, Spencer thought to himself. But it still doesn’t treat the base problem.

Reid let himself take a deep breath, feeling his chest rise and fall. They would be landing soon. Probably within the next hour or so. Maybe when he returned, he’d have a letter waiting for him in his mailbox. At least, he hoped so.

A jolt of excitement hit his chest. Only, it felt like it was something more. Then he suddenly felt a pang of panic follow suit.

No. He didn’t feel any sort of attraction to (Y/N). He just saw her as a friend. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d ever see her in person. The odds of that happening with (Y/N) living in Ohio, and him in Virginia, were slim.

Better to douse the embers now, before it erupts into an all-consuming fire that he can no longer control. Feelings were a territory unknown to Spencer. And they terrified him.

—-----

Once again, Reid found himself groggily walking up his stairs rather than taking the elevator. However tired he was, he’d always take the stairs if he could help it. Not that he was afraid of elevators… He just preferred to avoid them after his and Morgan’s instance with the malfunctioning elevator.

Nevertheless, Reid managed to arrive at his door with exhaustion as his only company. He had his mail gripped in his hand in a tight hold while he carried his messenger bag on his shoulder. He carried his go-bag in his other hand, setting it down momentarily to unlock the door. He hadn’t even stopped to check the stack for the familiar envelope.

Once the door was open, Reid picked his bag up off the floor and carried it inside. He began his nightly routine with locking the door behind him, and setting his mail on the table. Then, with unrelenting curiosity, he searched his stack of mail for the familiar gentle penmanship.

His heart jumped only slightly when he found the envelope tucked between an ad and a piece of junk mail.

Quickly, Reid picked the envelope up and turned it over. He pulled the seal out of the envelope with a smile, followed by the blue stationary. He laid the envelope on his dining table and sat back in his chair, unfolding the baby blue paper.

Greetings, Dr. Reid! 10/04/2010

No need to worry. No amount of education you have will scare away the likes of me. In fact, I prefer talking to people of higher IQ. Makes me feel understood.

Ooh! Three PhDs and three BAs and you’re still in your twenties? That’s amazing! You have to be a genius to manage that. I graduated on time like a boring person. But hey, who can say they finished their doctorate program in 3 years other than you? I’m sure it’s not that many people.

By the way, you don’t just ask a lady for her birthday. That’s like, rule number 2. Number one is to never ask a girl her age. They kind of go hand in hand.

That’s kinda cute that your mom signed you up. Maybe I can send you a thank you card along with my next reply so I can thank her. I just joined because I guess I needed a friend. Not that the college advice isn’t EXTREMELY helpful. I’m glad I got you too. I guess this means we’re friends now? Or are we stuck to ‘pals’?

I am so glad you agree on old literature. Anything after the 20th century is biased, although you can still find some rare gems. Like Sherlock Holmes and Edgar Allen Poe. But I guess you already knew that. You already profiled what I’ve already read of Doyle, so I wouldn’t put it past you to be able to guess what kind of literature is my favorite.

So you’re an FBI agent, huh? Tell me, do you guys really have a branch that watches search engines all day long for suspicious activity? That job sounds boring. I bet yours is way more exciting. Catching criminals based on science and behavior? Dream come true. Though I do wonder what you’d do if you weren’t FBI. I bet you get that question all the time.

I thought about what you said, and you should be proud. I took your advice and I’m deciding to go for a Chemistry doctorate this time. This way I can catch up to you one day. But I don’t know what I’d get if I went for a third round.

My parents aren’t… happy that I’m moving out. I expected that. They had complete polar opposite reactions too. My mother cried and begged me to stay while my father got mad and demanded that I change my mind. Like I’m going to just call up my realtor, who’s already in the process of getting my new apartment figured out, and say ‘Oops, nevermind.’

But you’re right. I need to do what I want to do. It’s my life.

One last question before I close this out, extremely important:

What is, your favorite ice cream flavor? Mine’s (F/I/C/F).

Hope to hear from you soon!

(Y/N) (L/N)

Spencer closes the blue paper, and discovers that his cheeks have begun to hurt from smiling for so long. He rubs one of them mindlessly, staring back down at the blue stationary he’d just closed. Maybe this is what it’s like having someone you can openly obsess over your favorite things with. Yeah. That’s probably what it is. It’s not like Spencer knew (Y/N) all that well yet. They’d only sent 5 letters in total. 2 being his own. He can’t fall in love with someone he’ll never meet. It was just destined for heartbreak.

This wasn’t going to be a problem. Spencer was sure he wasn’t crushing. It’s just admiration.

Spencer swallowed a gulp in his throat, standing up and stretching his worn out limbs. He glanced to his sink, sighing as he remembered that yes, he may have a day off, but that also meant dishes needed to be done. As well as laundry.

“Sometimes I wish I could blind myself to my own stupidity.” He grumbled to himself, resigning to leave the chores for tomorrow. For right now, he needed sleep. And lots of it.

What would he be doing if he wasn’t at the BAU? The question had been so innocent when asked, but it made Reid think. He knew he wanted to stay in the bureau. There was almost no doubt in his mind that this was where he belonged. But he’d never stopped to ponder what he’d be doing if he’d gone a different direction. If the FBI hadn’t been an option. He’d thought about it, but never in complete seriousness. The only time he’d actually considered something else had been when Gideon had left. Now? He wasn’t so sure.

Reid remained occupied in his mind as he continued his routine with brushing his teeth and changing for bed, thinking over the questions he’d been asked. It had been a long time since someone had asked him questions like that. Even silly ones, like the last one (Y/N) had cutely squeezed in between a serious topic and her closing. Maybe those were the kinds of questions he should be asking. To get to know her better.

Spencer sat down on his bed, picking up the blue paper he had laid gently on his nightstand. He laid back in his bed, resting his head on his pillow, and read it again. This time, he found himself staring at the poem left at the bottom. He smiled warmly, finally realizing the connection between his penpal’s emotions and the poems she picks. He folds up the letter once more, and places it back on top of his nightstand for him to read again in the morning in order to reply. For now, he read over the poem again in his mind. The poem sent to him by his newest friend.

Hold fast to dreams, For if dreams die,

Life is a broken-winged bird, That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams, For when dreams go,

Life is a barren field, Frozen with snow.

– Langston Hughes

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x y/n #spencer #spencer reid fanfic #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds family #criminal minds fanfic

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moonflower-31 · 2 years

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For those reading Penpals, I have a bit of a poll for you. I feel the need to give the reader a birthday, but I am unsure of when. I have a few options below, please vote if you can! I want Spencer to know the readers birthday for future references!

1.) 13th of May

2.) 23rd of September

3.) 8th of April

4.) 14th of December

If you have any other ideas, let me know in the comments! I'll close this poll in about a week. Probably the 20th of June. So vote while you can!

Tags: @thatsonezesty13 , @egg-boy03 , @idjitlili , @meowiemari , @meganskane , @lonelyran , @rainsong01 , let me know if I missed you or if you wanna be added to the list!

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moonflower-31 · 2 years

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Canon reasons why I believe Spencer’s father sexually abused him.

CW: nongraphic mentions of childhood trauma, csa, and repressed memories

Keep reading

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moonflower-31 · 2 years

Text

Pen Pals - Spencer Reid x Reader

Part 1

Part 2!

Ongoing! (But slow updates, srry)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Talk of being used for free labor? If that's anything?

A/N: Okay, guys, I got randomly inspired for this thing. Idk for sure about updates just yet, but I promise to get working on the next one for this and for IWFY. When inspo hits, it's gonna hit hard. So enjoy this! It's a bit longer than the last, but still. You'll get Spencer's next letter reply in the next installment. I'm also gonna start putting dates on their letters so we can follow along with the passage of time. Toodles!

Tags: @thatsonezesty13, @egg-boy03, @idjitlili, @meowiemari, @meganskane, @lonelyran, @rainsong01, let me know if I missed you or if you wanna be added to the list!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I remained too much inside my own head and ended up losing my mind.” - Edgar Allen Poe

The sun was blisteringly hot, as Ohio summers always were. This one was no different. Of course today of all days had to be the day your father had picked to start work on the farm. Leaving you no time to prepare for your incoming day of departure.

The past week or so had been…eventful, to say the least. After you’d graduated, you had hoped that maybe your parents would let up on some of their rules on studying. You had been right, but they were hellbent on you returning to school. Med school. Despite all the preparation you’d made for it, you weren’t quite sure you wanted to go through with your original plan. After all, it was your parent's dream. Not yours.

No matter the circumstance, the conversations you had with your parents always ended with them discussing when you would be applying for med school. Scratch that, the conversations you had with your mother, while your father just stared at you. His conversations only ever composed of farm work and how you should listen to your mother.

Now that you’d graduated, you didn’t know what to do. You were only 23. The sky’s the limit, as your bio-lab teacher, Mr. Underwood, would say. You just have to know when to jump.

Your only problem? You had absolutely no idea.

You reach up to your forehead, wiping off the sheen of sweat that had accumulated there. With a grunt, you forced yourself to lift the crate of feed bags your father had tasked you with carrying to the chicken coop. All morning you’d been working. From the minute Ronny, one of your family’s roosters, had woken you at dawn, you’d been hard at work with no breaks. Your father wouldn’t allow it even if you tried to ask.

“(Y/N)! Enough wastin’ around! That feed ain’t gonna move itself!” Abraham, your father, shouted from off in the distance. He was probably headed to his tractor to start the harvest. You internally groaned, the annoyance multiplied by the rare breeze blowing your hair into your face. This was why you usually wore your hair back, whatever the length. Your mother always insisted on having it long, though. The idea of cutting it was never up for debate. The longer your hair, the happier your mother was. Though you did dream of the day you’d escape the farm life and chop it all off. The look on your mother's face would be priceless.

“I’m not as strong as you dad! It’s gonna take me a bit.” You call back, grimacing as some of the wooden crate dug into your palms. You rearranged your hold, hoping to carry the weight in your legs if that made any sense.

Whatever it was you did, it helped. The burden of the crate’s weight was soon not as much an issue, and the crate was put beside the coop. The roar of the tractor made you internally wish you were something else. A fish or a bird, anything to get out of having to help your father carry the harvest to the barn where it would be put into more crates and then shipped out to be properly cleaned and made ready for people to buy at the grocery store. When the harvest day comes, you know to make yourself busy with a study group, or something. But school was not in session.

But then, as if the universe had heard your childish plea, you heard the backdoor swing open, and your mother call out to you. “(Y/N)! Could you go get the mail for me sweetheart?”

The task, simple and much easier than the task you knew was coming, you jumped at the chance to do something else. “Yeah! Sure Mom!” You called before your father could cry out in protest that your mother was taking away his free labor. He was already suggesting you go to med school online, so you didn’t have to move. More like he wanted you to stay so he didn’t have to cough up the money to hire farmhands.

Considering the amount of harvest your father’s farm produced every year, you and your father managed to get it all done somehow. Your family was well off in a way only a farmer’s family could be. But you knew that was only because they didn’t have to budget in a salary for helpers. Your father had wanted a son, as all men in your small town did, but unfortunately for him, you were the one and only child he was given. His brother, on the otherhand, had at least 6 boys. You’d lost count of how many facebook posts your aunt had made announcing another new ‘bundle of joy’. At least your mother’s sister knew her worth, and had decided to travel rather than to settle down and let a man control her life. You idolized her, and her gifts of international novels and special editions were everything.

You raced towards the mailbox, your mind soon travelling to the idea of a new package from said aunt. It had only been a month or two since her last parcel, but you could still dream!

Then you remembered your penpal letter you’d sent a few weeks prior. You wondered if it even got to it’s destination. People moved locations all the time. You hadn’t even stopped to consider that when you’d sent the damn thing. The thought that you could have a reply hadn’t crossed your mind at all since you’d graduated. Excitement quickly filled your bones and you raced faster down the hill towards the mailbox in the front of your family’s property closest to the road. You slowed your racing feet to a halt as you approached your family’s mailbox. The red flag was up!

An excited giggle erupted from your throat before you could catch it, making yourself pause and take a deep breath. There was no reason to get this excited over a response. Or over a present from your aunt. But the childish voice in your head quickly convinced you otherwise. You reached out with a grin, opening the box almost dramatically. To your triumph, there was indeed mail! But unfortunately, no package.

Only slightly disheartened, you grabbed the small stack of letters and started to look at the names of to whom they were addressed to. As you began to look, you started to head back up the hill towards your house, almost forgetting to close the mailbox.

The first envelope you looked at seemed to be an advertisement for a cruise. As if. It was addressed to your mother. Of course. She loved to dream. You put that one behind the rest and looked at the second. This one was addressed to your father, unfortunately. You then placed that one behind the previous and continued through the rest of the mail, almost losing hope that you’d be getting a response at all. Then, when all hope felt lost, and you had grabbed the handle to your front screen door, you glanced down at the last envelope. It was addressed to you!

With a dart of your eyes you checked the sender’s name, and your heart flipped as you read the name back as Dr. Spencer Reid.

Withholding the full extent of your excitement, you quickly opened the front door and grabbed your letter before dropping the rest on the dining room table.

“Thank you darling-” Your mother says sweetly, blinking in bewilderment as you run up the stairs to your room with an envelope in your hand. She raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

You close your door once you manage to slide into your room, racing over to your desk to open the small envelope. You pick up the letter opener your aunt had sent with the stationary and quite literally rip the thing open. At this action you take a brief pause. Maybe it was best that you calmed down a bit. You didn’t want your mother to get too curious.

After a deep breath, you open your eyes and pull the neatly folded paper from the now opened envelope. You place the envelope aside and open the letter. You read happily, entirely thrilled by the contents. So he was a doctor! Not a medical one, but neither were you! Your eyes continue to scale the letter up and down, your smile growing with each new fact. His IQ was impressive! And so was his reading speed. Not mention he was extremely well educated. Three PhDs? He really earned his right to be called a doctor.

So his address had changed. You were right. But it had somehow made it to him.

What fascinated you even more was his similar love for reading. Especially in another language. It was like you were meeting another version of you but, genderbent. Kinda.

Your eyes turned to the list of books the good doctor had left at the end of his letter. Your smile grew even wider, even though you already had over half of these books on your shelf already.

Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - (One of my personal favorites)

Beyond Good and Evil - Friedrich Nietzsche

The Illiad - Homer

The Raven and the Monkey’s Paw - Edgar Allen Poe

The Happiness Hypothesis - Jonathan Haidt

You smiled, happy to see your penpal enjoyed many of the same books and stories that you did. You read it over just once more before you decided it was time to put it away before your mother came in with the news that your father was asking for you. You searched your room for a moment, unsure of where to put the letter for safe keeping. Who knows? You may want to look back on them someday.

“I’ve gotta have something…” You mumble to yourself.

“(Y/N)? Honey? Did you get any mail?” You heard your mother’s voice suddenly call through the door to your room while accompanying a knock. A brief jolt of nervousness runs through you, worried if your mother found out about the letter she’d forbid you from sending another reply. Then you sighed with relief. You could just say it was a copy of your diploma.

“Yeah, just a copy of my diploma, mom.” You called back. Your mother seemed to accept it, not immediately doubting you.

“Mind if I come in?” Your mother asked suddenly. You felt your throat grow dry as your nerves rose again. It’s fine. You can hide the letter, you tell yourself. But where?

“Honey?” Your mother asks again, the doorknob slowly turning. In a panic, you open your nightstand drawer and shoved the letter inside along with the envelope. You turned back towards your mother, who now stood in your doorway facing you who stood in front of your nightstand. She blinked a few times, confused. There was no way she wasn’t suspicious now.

“Hey uh... Sorry. I was putting my diploma away. D-don’t need two versions of the same thing out and displayed, right?” You reply, mentally cursing your stutter. Again, your mother seems to buy your excuse, shaking her head and approaching you.

“I was just checking on you, honey. Did you need anything? I know you’ve been outside all day.” Your mother offered, reassuring you that she was merely curious. You hold back your sigh of relief, beginning to shake your head.

“No I don’t think there’s…” You begin, before you remember. “Wait, mom, do you still have that old jewelry box you wanted to give me a few years ago? The one with the hidden slots?” You begin. Your mother ponders your question for a moment, probably bewildered that of all things to ask for after a day in the hot sun, you ask for a family heirloom.

“I think so… why? Did you want it?” She asked, a slight tone of hope making your mother’s pitch rise. You quickly nodded, watching as your mother smiled and nodded back to you. “Alright, then I’ll go find it. Let me know if there’s anything else, okay?” Your mother walked back towards your bedroom door, making sure you knew you could ask her for anything you needed. Despite her shortcomings, she was your mother, and you loved her. Even if her views were slightly skewed.

“I know, Mom. I’ll be sure to ask if I need anything else.” You assure her, Almost pushing her out the door via the actual door. She sighed and stepped away from the doorway, smiling back at you tiredly.

“Alright sweetie. Just know your father is asking for you. I’ll leave the jewelry box on your desk.” Your mother informs and it takes every fiber of your being not to groan in frustration. Not getting out of it this time.

Without another word, your mother closes your door, and you’re left in your own excitement and annoyance. At least something good came of today.

—---

“Hey, pretty boy.”

Spencer lifted his head from his desk of reports, a little annoyed that his focus had been interrupted. His hazel eyes met the brown ones of Derek Morgan, a playful grin on his face. He didn’t reply, knowing Derek would soon tell him what he wanted anyway.

“Why don’t you come with Garcia, Prentiss, and me tonight? We’re celebrating a win.” Derek suggests. Spencer raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, a smile quickly finding its place on his face. As a side note, he did notice the lack of hair swinging into his face now that he’d gotten his hair cut. He didn’t hate it.

“I’ve worked with the three of you long enough to know that an ‘outing’ always leads to trouble. Largely, because it more than likely involves copious amounts of alcohol.” Reid replies, turning his focus back to his reports. He’d already almost finished them, as was his usual. Derek still had at least half the stack Reid had started with to get done. It gave Spencer a small twinge of pride.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. You never wanna go out with us. Are we no fun for you?” Derek teased.

“No, it’s actually the fact that I have done the research and calculated the statistics to know that when alcohol is involved alongside you, the night will more than likely end with me in a back alley with sharpie on my face.” Spencer, without looking up from his reports, quickly fired back.

“Woah, when did this happen?” Emily’s voice suddenly entered the conversation, her figure taking a seat at her desk. Her voice hinted with amusement, alerting Reid to the fact that she was also teasing. He wasn’t going to risk misunderstanding verbal and nonverbal cues again.

Spencer lifted his head, himself slightly amused. “October 23rd of last year Morgan had the brilliant idea to take me out as a ‘birthday present’ rather than just buying a book as he’d done before. I woke up in the middle of the night with sharpie drawn on my face and ditched in the back alley behind the bar. Morgan had already gone home!” Spencer regaled, pulling a smile from the man in question as he slightly spun in his chair while twirling his pen. Emily widened her eyes and huffed out a laugh.

“Okay, that’s a pretty valid reason,” Emily says, laughing as she turns to her reports to begin working. “Though we should hang out sometime soon. Even if it isn’t a bar to make sure our resident genius doesn’t have to scrub his face raw.” Emily’s smile grows as she jokes. Spencer rolls his eyes as Morgan lets out an extended ‘Ooohh’.

“See I didn’t ask for this abuse? Okay? Someone tell me it’s 8 o’clock.” Spencer retorted in protest, pulling a laugh from both of his co-workers. His smile is obvious though, amused by his co-workers and their teasing after years of growing used to it.

“What's the rush? You got a date waiting for you?” Morgan teased. Spencer rolled his eyes again.

“Not everyone is as entertained by the thought of a relationship as you, Morgan.” Spencer insisted. “No, I do not have a date. I actually have a ‘date’ with coffee and my bed. See, I can do metaphors.” Spencer insisted, turning again to his reports and writing a few lines.

“That…I’m not even gonna attempt it.” Emily spoke, laughing with Morgan at Spencer’s lack of understanding of references and sayings.

Unfortunately, that was where the conversation quickly died down and the three were left in silence. It irked Spencer greatly, especially since these ‘abandoned’ conversations had been a frequent occurrence since JJ had been whisked away to the Pentagon. It was like there was a piece of them missing. The team had run so smoothly that to take away one of their members was like taking away the main power source of a machine. Leaving him and the remaining members scrambling to figure out how to compensate.

Finally, a few minutes later, Spencer finished his last report and closed it triumphantly. He briefly checked his watch, happy to see the shorthand pointing at the 8. “See you guys tomorrow.” He says as he stands up and picks up his messenger bag and slings it on his left shoulder to rest against his right hip, waving goodbye to Morgan and to Emily.

“Don’t party too hard.” Derek called, pulling a smile back onto Spencer’s face as he carried his reports to Hotch’s desk.

—----

Exhaustion was starting to feel heavy as Spencer stepped into his apartment, the dim lights certainly not helping his case. He yawned tiredly, placing his go bag by the door as usual. He opened his messenger bag, remembering he’d grabbed his mail before heading upstairs. He places his messenger bag on his dining table, taking a seat to look at his probably over-due bills and mail.

Unsurprisingly, Spencer found his water and electric bill in the stack, setting them aside to get done tomorrow morning before he heads into work. Then, what catches his eye, is the slightly smaller envelope with the hesitant and light penmanship. He chuckles to himself, happy to see he hadn’t scared his pen pal away with his detailed account of his academic achievements. However, upon second glance at the sender’s name and address, Spencer is slightly taken aback at the new addition beside the name. Dr. (Y/N) (L/N).

Spencer smiles wider. So she’s graduated?

Spencer turns the envelope over, laughing to himself as he sees the envelope had not been sealed, and the seal had been folded into the envelope once again. He pulls the seal out and then the letter on the familiar blue stationary. Spencer then turns the delicate paper over, and began to read.

18/09/2010

Hello again, Dr. Reid! (How old are you by the way?)

It is so good to hear from you! I was almost sure you were going to throw my letter away. Like, who uses Penpalsrus.com anymore besides ten-year-olds? I’m glad I got you though. You seem interesting! I love Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, by the way. I’ve read more things than you could probably guess. Though with your Eidetic memory you might.

I love poetry too. I have a whole book of Edgar Allen Poe’s poems on my bookshelf. My aunt sends me all kinds of books from her library every few months. I think I have a Greek version of the Illiad somewhere. I could loan it to you if you wanted. Though my mother might not like the amount of money I’d be spending to send it.

So, you could probably read it already, but I finally graduated and I have my doctorate. I’m supposed to apply for med school this fall. My dad wants me to do it online so I can stay here on our family farm. Like I don’t do enough work already! I guess I don’t know what I want to do. My parents were the ones wanting me to go to med school. If I had any say I’d probably stick with biology and work in a lab. Or go back to school for Chem. Not that I don’t wanna learn about human behavior. It still fascinates me how people work. I study the brain in my free time for goodness sake!

What would you do? If you were in my shoes? I wanna make them happy, but this is my life. I can’t cater to them for the rest of my existence.

You don’t have to give me an answer, by the way. I guess I’m just venting? It’s not like you could somehow tell my parents that I’m secretly planning to move out when I go back to college.

What do you do for work, if you don’t mind my asking? A job that requires you to read people sounds amazing. Though I’d probably be happier in a lab.

What are your PhDs and BAs? Maybe you can help me with my next doctorate.

I should probably close this here. It’s getting kinda late. I hope to hear from you soon!

Sincerely,

(Y/N) (L/N)

Spencer found himself smiling warmly at the letter, not at all annoyed as he had been the first time he’d found out about his mother’s attempt to get him to socialize as a child. He felt he already knew (Y/N) better just from this one letter. The feelings she’d put into it were all over the blue paper. Not just in the words, but the lettering itself. The graphite wasn’t as light as it was the first time, however, it was still delicately written. The upper left hand corner had drops of wax on it, indicating she’d been writing by candlelight.

Spencer folded the letter back up, leaving the rest of his mail on the table, forgotten. He headed to his bedroom, placing the letter among the first in his nightstand. He reached up and loosened his tie, shedding his sweater vest as his mind swarmed with ideas on how he wanted to reply. He didn’t at first think he’d find a friend in this little endeavor. But he’d clearly been wrong.

She was into the books that he was. At the very least, Spencer had found a friend that he could discuss his favorite books with. But, secretly he hoped to create something he hadn’t had in some time outside the team or his childhood friend and rival, Ethan; a friend. Someone outside the team he could talk to without risk of putting anyone in danger as well as having an excuse to forget his current predicaments to talk with someone out of the loop.

Spencer sighed to himself, wandering to his desk and taking his seat once again. His mind was too active to rest. He couldn’t recall when he’d last felt as excited as a child to simply write to someone.

So, once he’d picked up a sheet of notebook paper and a pen, he began to write. And before long, he’d finished with a smile on his face and an ache in his wrist. Spencer yawned, stretching his arms out and rotating his wrist to soothe the ache. He stood up from his chair, resolving to make sure he put his reply in an envelope and mail it in the morning, along with sending his bill payments.

Finally, Spencer felt his mind begin to rest, and with it, the rest of his body. He slowly removed his work clothes and climbed into bed, reminding himself of the poem left at the end of (Y/N)’s reply. He said it aloud to himself as he felt sleep quickly reach him, carrying the poem with him into sleep.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To know that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

-Robert Frost

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