#and then ill find out everything and cry

[myighlou]

she ?

[laurrelise]

prove me wrong: tua s4 was a giant aidan gallagher thirst trap written and created by yours truly steve blackman

[repurposedmeatlocker]

Guess who just graduated university

[topp-dogg]

are there any choice out there who have that video of donghun crying while hes singing shine by pentagon??????????? i cant find it for the life of me but i need to show it to my friend

[hermitsdump]

that dream was fucked up can we pls go back to censoring my mom with kenjaku lmfaooooo

[athalantan]

Actually though that breaks my heart more? Knowing that it wasn't just one period of El's life in which My.st.ra caused them to beget children without their knowledge or consent. She has quite possibly done it many times over El's considerable long life. Maybe even before she birthed the Seven Sisters. All part of a plan to breed potential Chosen and otherwise worthy agents. As well as an eventual plan to groom a successor to El who, though still serving admirably, cannot and should not go on forever.

[zipquips]

.

[naenaex0xx]

I'm gonna explode

[just-spacetrash]

😖

[zipquips]

.

[kuiinncedes]

AKJDDNDSJDBDJJSHDHSJAJ

[phagodyke]

feeling worse this morning lalalalalaaa

[mywritersmind]

WANT ME IN RED - LN4

summary : Lando Norris is the bane of your existence, him following you into your drivers room yelling about on track drama is enough for you to spiral. What you don’t realize is that you both have been dancing around one specific issue, something that you solve. Something that involves his mouth on yours and his hands on you.

listen up : something everyone’s been waiting for… smut!!!!! p in v. dirty talk. unprotected sex. yelling. hot people doing hot things.

words : 2105

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Get the fuck out of my driver room, Norris!” He doesn’t listen. Lando slams the door behind him, storming after me as if he owns the place.

“What the hell was that!?” He yells at me as I roll my eyes, too mad to even speak. I’m sweaty, i’m sore, and i’m really fucking pissed off.

“I could ask you the same thing!” I spin around, my suit now half unzipped and hanging around my hips, “You cut into my line and you fucking know it!”

“Cry me a goddamn river, Y/n! A second later you ran us both off track and put me into the wall!” I bite back a smirk, the memory fresh and completely true in my mind.

“Deserved it.”

This makes him even angrier, his cheeks red and his eyes dark, “I cannot stand you!”

“Poor baby,” I fake sympathy, “Did you forget we’re racing to win?”

“I’m racing to win!” He points at his own chest, his suit undone and his hair wild, “One of us hasn’t gotten there yet.”

“I could have if you hadn't tried to do more than you’re capable of!” Another loss because of a bitch in orange got on my nerves. “Are you ever not an absolute cunt? Or is it just your nice fancy car that gives you all this false confidence?”

“Oh please don’t pull that shit! You lost because you’re batshit crazy!” I scoff, throwing my Ferrari hat down and stepping closer to him.

“It’s called aggressive driving but you wouldn’t know that, would you? Mr. gave a win away!”

He shakes his head, “Keep my moves out of your bitchy little mouth.”

“Can’t own up to your mistakes?” I pout, his eyes dropping to my lips, “Or is it your pathetic team that’s making you such a pussy?”

He’s backed me up into the wall, staring down at me as if he wants to hit me. Or worse, kiss me.

“Has the red dye gone to your head already!?”

“Has the vocabulary of only ‘papaya rules’ gone to yours?” I laugh in his face, “Get off your high horse, Norris, you’re not all that special.”

His arm braces itself next to my head as he leans in closer, “Wanna know what I think?”

I cross my arms over my chest, “Not particularly.”

“I think that you want me.” his voice lowers, his head dipping closer to mine, “And it fucking kills you.”

My heart is beating faster than in our cars. I stand my ground, blinking as if he has absolutely no effect on me, “Are you still sour that I said no to being your teammate?” He scoffs, looking away from me and giving me a face full of his hardened jaw, “Because it really was the idea of doing everything with you that made me physically ill. That, and I don’t look good in orange.”

His eyes find mine again before trailing down my body. “It’s gotta be better than red.” He catches his lip between his teeth, pulling at my skin tight fireproofs and snapping the fabric against my side.

“Do you wanna know what I think, Norris?” I look him dead in the eye, his body tensing as a smirk forms on my lips. I stand taller, leaning into him and whispering so close to his ear that my lips dust his cheek. “I think that you’re a horrible fucking liar.”

Our bodies are against each other now, waiting for one of us to make the first move. I snap my head back against the wall, his eyes zoned out as I grin to myself. I’ve got him and he knows it.

His gaze finally meets mine, dark and full of lust. “Admit it.” I say, looking up at him mischievously. His breath is calmer than I'd expected, but something tells me his heart is beating like crazy. Just the thought makes me want him even more. “You want me. Right here. Right now.”

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his head and closes his eyes. God… he looks hot when he’s pissed off and sweaty. Especially when he knows damn well that both of us want him to take it out on me.

I watch his head sway from side to side, thinking… contemplating. Then, he looks back up, his back hunched and his eyes at my level. I know what he’s waiting for. I know we both want it.

My eyes lock on his, “Wanna fuck me in red, Norris?

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. His lips are on mine in an instant, a hand already on my waist and shoving me into the wall. I’ve never kissed Lando before, every moment I've shared with him was one of us aching for each other.

Now that I have, I can confirm that the rumors are true.

He mumbles something against me but I can’t even register it because the second he runs his hand under my fireproofs and over my nipple, I groan. Christ, he’s quick with it. His hands are huge, exploring my chest, waist, and slipping below my race suit.

“Lan-” I’m about to tell him to slow down but my mind is quickly changed by his hand snaking up my leg and moving it off the ground so he’s gripping my thigh.

His mouth is hot against me, straying from my mouth but never leaving my skin as his lips navigate to my neck. My skin is on fire, a warmth that pools between my legs and makes me grind against him.

He clearly likes his, pushing me harder against the wall and tugging at my race suit. I bring Lando’s lips back to mine, grabbing his chin forcefully and not missing the breathless smirk that plays on his lips.

That look tells me all I need. I don’t really know how it happens so quickly, both of our rushed movements and hurried kisses end up in my race suit on the floor.

“You’re so-” Lando kisses my neck, making his hands slide down my waist to where he snaps my panties back against my skin, “Fucking… hot.”

“Everytime we’ve fought- you’ve wanted to fuck me, huh?” I moan at the contact of his hand to my core, sliding over the fabric and teasing me to no end.

“Every. Damn. Time.” I kiss him again, resting my hands on his neck as his fingers explore the thin black of my underwear.

I breathe against him, pushing him away which earns me a slight whine from his lips. My hand goes to his hair, his head leaning into my hand as I do so. He’s eager for me.

I push down and he goes right with my movement, his eyes locked on mine as one knee finds the floor. I’m testing him and he’s too pathetic to even care. He looks as if he’s drooling for me, his mouth slightly parted as his lust clouded eyes stay on me.

I can’t help but smirk, grabbing the collar of his race suit and pulling him back up. Like I've got him on a goddamn leash. He doesn’t look mad- just in a hurry. “Tease.” He says against my lips as the satisfying sound of a zipper rips through the room.

“Slut.” I say right back, my hand moving down his body and letting the suit fall below his waist.

I can feel him against me now. The Calvin Klein waistband staring at me as his dick throbs under the fabric. His hands are on me again, now onto my ass which he squeezes as if he owns it.

His hands are something worth fantasizing about, cupping my ass like it’s nothing as one of his fingers, too big for his own good, slides my underwear down.

“Tell me you want this.” He says quickly.

“I want you.” my words make him shiver, his underwear long gone and his dick staring right at me. “You want me?” I whisper, my hand drifting over him just enough for him to whimper in my ear.

“If I ever say no to that question, kill me.” His hand covers mine, dwarfing me as he positions himself to my entrance. He lifts my lips for me and in a moment of intimate silence, he pushes into me.

My head goes back instinctively as I feel him in me. He groans when I accidentally slip down the wall a bit, “Fuck, I hate you.” I love it when he lies to me.

He starts going now, pushing into me like i’ve always dreamed of. His hand slams next to my head as his head lulls in between us. I moan, watching his arm tense against the wall as he quickens his pace.

I can’t even tell if my feet are on the ground anymore, he’s holding me so tight as if i’ll slip away. As if I'd want to.

I moan louder as my body squeezes against him, matching his whines before he moves his hand over my mouth. “Fuck you.” I bite out before he pushes against me harder, mumbling my voice and making him grin.

“Check.” He chokes on a laugh, turning it into a whimper and taking his hand off my mouth, “Gotta stay quiet.”

I can’t do anything but nod, feeling him so intensely as I grind into him more, wanting all of it. “So fucking good for me.” He mumbles, watching his dick move in and out of me.

He starts going harder, that dizzy feeling overtaking me as I roll my eyes back, “Norris-”

“Say my name, Y/n.” His voice, deep and gravelly, makes me reach my high even faster. He dips his head to my neck again, practically biting me.

“Lando.” I force out as my whole body catches fire. I cum just before Lando, pulling out of me and releasing on my thigh. I watch the milky substance drop down my leg as my own mixes in.

We both stand there for a second, out of breath and in shock. And then Lando and I collapse onto the floor, my head slumped against his shoulder, not caring about the mess or our suits.

“Y/n!” A voice comes from outside the door, “Just making sure you’re okay!” It’s my best friend. “You have an interview in twenty-“

“I’m good!” I yell back, still out of breath and achy, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

Lando leans his head back next to me, “Next time, we’re fucking in my room.”

I scoff, “Next time?”

He whips his head towards me, “Don’t do that- That’s not fair!”

I smirk slowly, “All's fair in sex and racing.”

He shakes his head, his curls still damn and his cheeks flushed, “You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

He cleans me up after that, being much gentler than he was during the act. I watch his hands- god I love his big hands, especially knowing that they were just all over me.

He slides my panties back on, slow and steady as if he doesn’t want to hurt me. Or he doesn’t want to stop looking. Then my race suit gets zipped back up, only halfway because his hands still on me means my skin still on fire.

He glances at my neck, “Just- pull that up a bit.” My eyes widen when I realize what he means. Standing up quickly and rushing to my mirror I stomp my foot.

“Norris!” There aren't many, but one hickey would be enough to make the media go crazy.

He appears behind me, grinning proudly as he looks at his handy work. He pulls up the neck of my fireproof just enough so it’s covered, “There.”

“You’re a lucky man.” I turn to him, my arms crossed.

“Trust me,” He grins, “I know that.”

I check both ways before we both step out of my room, going separate ways in the empty hallway. I watch him walk away, turning back and watching me walk backwards.

“Norris.” I say, biting my lip and impulsively grabbing the hem of my fireproof, pulling it up so I flash him my tits.

He groans immediately, looking like he’s ready for another round already. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” I shrug, still walking and pulling my shirt back down. “See you next weekend, love.” I say the last word in a mock accent, teasing him.

I can hear the whine in his voice after I turn around to walk fully away, “Suck my dick, red!”

I hold my hand, flipping him off and laughing, “Maybe at a later date.”

[maccreadysbaby]

Some of My Favorite Ways to Describe a Character Who’s Sick

pressing their forehead into something cool or comfortable (this could be an array of things. the table, the floor, someones leather jacket, their water bottle, the countertop)

warm to the touch, or heat radiating from them (could be noticed if someone’s gauging their temperature with their hands, hugging them, or just generally touching them)

leaning into people’s touch, or just spontaneously leaning on them (like pressing into their hand when someone’s checking their temp, or just, like, literally walking up and laying their head on them from fatigue. bonus points if the character is usually feral and the other is scared to engage™︎)

falling asleep all over the place (at the dinner table, on their homework, in the car, in the bathroom — just being so exhausted from doing literally nothing)

being overly emotional (crying over things that don’t usually bother them, like their siblings arguing, or their homework, or literally just nothing)

stumbling/careening/staggering into things (the wall, furniture, other people. there is no coordination in feverish brains. running into chairs, hitting the door, falling over the couch, anything and everything)

slurring their words (could be from fatigue or pain. connecting words that shouldn’t be connected, murdering all of their conversations with the excessive use of ‘mm’ and ‘nn’ in place of words) (this is my favorite thing ever)

being overly touchy (basically like a sick kid — just hold them, please. do that thing where you brush their hair back out of their face, or rub circles on their back, or snuggle them. they won’t care. bonus points if this is also the feral character and they refuse to believe it afterwards)

being extremely resistant to touch (flinching away when they usually don’t so someone can’t feel the fever, not letting themselves be touched because they’re so tired they just know they’ll be putty in their hands if they do)

growing aggressive or being extremely rude (it’s a defense mechanism — they feel vulnerable and are afraid of being manipulated or deceived while they’re ill)

whimpering/whining/groaning (this was in my “characters in pain” post but it’s so good that i’m putting it here too. this shite is gold, especially if it’s just an involuntary reaction to their symptoms)

having nightmares caused by a fever and/or delirium (crying and murmuring in their sleep, or being awake but completely out of it and convinced they’re somewhere else)

making themselves as small as possible (curling up into a ball everywhere they lay, hunching over slightly when standing, wrapping their arms around themselves)

TW for vomiting below cut !!

sleeping in the bathroom floor because they keep getting sick over and over (bonus if someone finds them all weak and pitiful. bonus bonus if they find them there in the morning only to learn they’ve been there all night)

using their hands/other body parts to clamp over their mouth so nothing can come out (like pulling their knees up to their chest and using that, or like, their arm, y’know) (~maccreadysbaby who has emetophobia suddenly gets very awkward about this post~) (~yes i have a phobia of puke and still write this happening to my characters, shut up~) (~it’s about the hurt/comfort okay~)

sympathy pukers (people who aren’t the sick ones but get nauseous/vomit when they see someone else throw up) (~aka me~) (~okay I’m done now~)

dry heaving (it’s gross, but good for making your characters absolutely freaking miserable)

rolling/churning/spinning/cramping/ lurching and all those awesome words that describe what stomachs do when sick (i hate these words with a deep, fiery passion. but they’re good for writing or whatever)

[pathologicalreid]

here with me | s.r.

four times Spencer feels out of place in your house after being released from prison, and one time it's like he never left

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, post prison, crying, stephen walker's death, non-specified illness, baking, kissing word count: 3.58k a/n: i love this fic format i have been wanting to do it for ages. and here we are. as always-tell me how you feeeeeeeel

“I wanna stay home,” your daughter whined from her place at the kitchen table. She periodically reached to her sister’s high chair so that she could steal blueberries from her plate.

You hummed, pouring the egg mixture into the preheated skillet, “We played hooky yesterday, bub. We’ve gotta go back to school today.” Using a silicone spatula, you started to scramble the eggs.

She grumbled unintelligibly, dramatically sliding down the chair, “Livvy gets to stay home.”

Turning down the heat on the stove, you went around the counter and crouched in front of your five-year-old, “Well, Livvy’s two, and before you ask, Finn’s not going to school either.”

“Finn’s a baby, mom. He can’t go to school,” she told you proudly.

You frowned at your daughter, “It’s hard to be the oldest, honey. We can’t keep staying home.” Ruffling her hair affectionately, you get up from the floor and go back to the stove, you continue scrambling the eggs.

To your eldest, going back to kindergarten was a fate worse than death. It wasn’t strictly that she didn’t want to go to school, it was that she didn’t want to leave home. The sniffle from the table lets you know that this morning was going to be harder than you initially anticipated. “I wanna stay with daddy,” she cried, kicking her legs at the table.

Turning off the heat, you set the pan on a trivet before going back to the table, “I know,” you responded. Every time you thought you had run out of tears, new ones managed to find their way out.

Of your three kids, Eleanor was old enough to really feel Spencer’s absence. To your dismay, she ended up bearing some of the burden of her father being gone for three months. After staying with your parents for a few days, she was finally reunited with her dad yesterday morning, and they had been nearly inseparable since.

“Oh, Nell,” you sighed, cupping her cheeks in your hands, “I don’t know if daddy has plans today. He has a lot of stuff that needs to be done.

Pulling away from your touch, she frantically wiped the tears from her eyes, “I can do stuff too,” she whimpered.

She unwound your resolve like a ball of yarn, “I know you can, honey. I just…” you faltered. You had let her miss so much school over the last three months that the school had sent letters home, “We’ll just have to see.”

You sighed helplessly, standing back up and smiling softly at Olivia, who had successfully gotten blueberry juice everywhere. Returning to the kitchen, you put some scrambled eggs on Eleanor’s plate and put more in a bowl for Olivia, setting it aside to cool more before you give it to your toddler.

Putting the pan in the sink, you flipped on the tap before starting to clean it. While you kept a watchful eye on the baby monitor, you didn’t notice Spencer come downstairs and walk into the kitchen. In fact, you were completely unaware of his presence until he spoke, “Can I help with anything?”

You lost your grip on the pan, sending soapy water flying all over the kitchen as you frantically tried to catch the handle. Eleanor either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Olivia thought it was hilarious. “Oh,” you breathed as Spencer reached over and turned off the water, “You scared me.”

The two of you shared a timid glance, his hand ghosting over your waist as he walked past you to where the girls were sitting.

Biting the dead skin off of your lips, you finished rinsing the pan before setting it on a drying mat. You were wiping down the countertop when Finn finally woke up, and you dropped everything to go get him from his crib, almost like you were running on autopilot.

Unzip the sleep sack. Change the diaper. Get dressed. Cuddle him. Every morning. In that order.

Resting the groggy baby on your hip, you made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen, starting the bottle warmer and listening to the conversation between Spencer and Nellie.

“What if you go to school today, but on Friday we can both take the day off? We could go out for lunch,” he offered, crouching down so he was at her level.

She looked pointedly over at Olivia, who was happily eating the eggs that you assumed Spencer had given her, now thoroughly doused in ketchup, “Just us?”

Spencer nodded reassuringly, “If it’s okay with mommy, we can have a daddy and Nellie day.” He reached out tentatively and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, everything about him seemed so timid.

You looped around the kitchen table, ruffling Olivia’s hair before doing the same to Eleanor’s and even Spencer’s, which made Olivia giggle.

“Can I?” Spencer asked, nodding his head to the bottle that you had just grabbed from the warmer.

Blinking absently for a moment, you eventually nodded, handing Finn over to his dad along with the bottle, watching as Spencer cradled him, walking him around the kitchen while his bottle was clamped between his tiny hands. “Hey, girls, time to get dressed,” you said, forcing yourself to peel your eyes off of your husband.

Eleanor groaned but got up anyway, trudging up the steps while you followed with Olivia in your arms, feeling like you were missing something without Finn also in tow.

Nell made her way back down first, sitting on the couch and watching her dad, keeping an eye on him like she was afraid he was going to disappear before her very eyes. “Daddy?” She whispered, her voice barely audible from your place at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah?” He asked, you heard the sound of him setting the bottle in the sink.

She’s quiet for a moment before responding, “I missed you.”

Spencer’s footsteps stopped abruptly, “I missed you too, lovebug.”

You started to make your way down the stairs, letting Olivia go down on her own now that she wasn’t covered in blueberry. Eleanor looked at you with big eyes before helping her sister climb up on the couch. “Finny, Finny, Finny,” Olivia echoed.

Zipping up Eleanor’s school lunch in her bag, you sighed, hoping you were doing the right thing by sending her to school. “Hey, Nell,” you said, checking a new message on your phone, “Mrs. Jareau is here.”

JJ’s carpools had saved you multiple times while Spencer was in prison, you were just grateful she was willing to continue them.

Normally, she’d run out the door at the prospect of being able to talk to Henry, but this time she lingered by the front door, holding her backpack straps in her hands and staring at her dad, “Will you be here when I get home?”

He looked at you, a thousand emotions flashing in his brown eyes, and he squatted in front of her, “I’ll be here,” he said, holding out his pinky finger to interlock with her much smaller one. “I promise,” he said, kissing her forehead before standing up.

Once you knew she was off to school, you made sure Olivia was settled in on the couch and Finn was in his bouncer before going back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. You were placing dishes in the dishwasher when Spencer came back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning against the countertop and handing you a bowl to put on the top rack.

Taking the bowl, you didn’t look at him as you placed it in the dishwasher before putting a tablet in and pressing the start button, “I wish you’d stop apologizing.”

He stepped slightly closer to you, “I know. It’s just… watching you handle all three of them in the morning. It’s incredible,” he praised you. “I left you alone,” he said mournfully.

You shrugged, having never really thought of it that way, “You didn’t leave me alone. I had them,” you said, nodding in the direction of the living room, where Finn and Olivia were having a conversation that only the two of them could understand.

You sighed in relief as the shower water washed over you, an early afternoon shower just before Eleanor got home from school, the little ones were down for their naps, and you had to race against time before one of them woke up. It didn’t give you a lot of time to just sit under the running water, but you’d have enough time to wash your hair before you needed to pause the shower.

You had narrowly avoided disaster this morning when the girls’ breakfasts had been mixed up. Thankfully, you navigated a toddler meltdown that was triggered by the appearance of ham in her eggs. Poor Spencer was still confused even after you explained to him that she wouldn’t eat ham because it’s pink and pink is her favorite color.

It wasn’t something that made a lot of sense to you either, but the only person that it needed to make sense to was your two-year-old.

Rinsing your hair, you remembered how happy Spencer had been when he got Finn down last night. He’d spent the day talking about how babies don’t start to really recognize faces until they’re around four months old, and that was about how old he was when Spencer left.

Finn knew his dad. He’d even started reaching out for him when he wanted to be held but feeling comfortable enough to be put down for the night by him—it felt like a milestone.

The crying started right after you finished rinsing your hair, you quickly shut off the water and grabbed your towel off of the hook. Wrapping it around yourself, you dried off your feet before opening the bathroom. Sometimes when Finn cried while you were in the shower, you’d just bring him in with you to finish, but when you opened the door, his tears were already waning.

Spencer had gotten to him first, scooping him out of the crib in your room and holding him to his chest, “Hey, buddy,” he cooed softly, “What’s wrong?”

The baby chattered in response, gripping the cotton of Spencer’s t-shirt in his tiny fists and wiping his tears away.

“You’re alright,” Spencer whispered, placing him on your bed to undo his sleep sack, smiling at his son when he kicked his legs once freed. “You just wanted to be held, huh? Your sister was the same way when she was a baby,” he said.

Nell. He was remembering Nell as a baby, who slept best when she was being held and would cry if you were out of her line of sight.

Spencer turned around, stopping in his tracks when he saw you in the doorway, “Did you finish?”

You’d been caught, “Oh. Could you get a new soap from the hall closet? We’re out,” you fibbed, mindful of the way your hair was still dripping wet.

He frowned, “I just put a new one in this morning. Did you look on the caddy?”

Blinking, you shook your head, “No, my bad.”

You had already started closing the door when he called for you, “Honey?”

Pausing, you peeked out the door to look at him, “Yeah?”

“I’m here,” he told you, something urgent in his tone.

Your face warmed, the reminder of his presence making your heart race, “I—” you faltered, “I know.”

You had managed to get Nell out the door without a fight this morning with the promise of her father-daughter date tomorrow. Olivia was settled with her toys in your line of sight and Finn was in a sling. The baby hadn’t slept well last night, and you were fairly certain that he had a new tooth poking through. He seemed fine now, catching up on sleep while you wiped down the kitchen.

Spencer was across from you, filling out some required papers for his reinstatement hearing. He hadn’t fully committed to seeking reinstatement until you brought it up. Frankly, you were horrified by the fact that Spencer was under the impression that you would ask him to leave the BAU for any reason.

“What do you have planned today?” Spencer asked you, still focusing on the papers while making gentle conversation with you.

You raised your eyebrows briefly, “Really awesome exciting stuff.” You took a sip of your coffee before adjusting Finn’s sling. Very slowly, you were beginning to find a new routine with Spencer and the kids in the morning. Spencer was learning about everything that had changed, and you were learning how to give him more responsibilities around the house.

You needed to let go of the notion that you were still alone. Spencer hummed in response, laughing at your blatant oversell, “Like what?”

Smiling, you dried your hands on a tea towel before standing next to him, distracting him from his paperwork with the cuteness of a sleeping baby. “There is so much dirty laundry in this house,” you told him, “I’m surprised anyone has any clean clothes.”

“Anything else?” Spencer asked, placing one hand gently on your hip and pressing a tentative kiss to your lips.

You hesitated, “Uh, cooking?”

He looked at you curiously, “Cooking for what?”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you looked over at Olivia, making sure she was preoccupied before answering, “Monica and the kids.”

Realization dawned over Spencer’s face, “Oh,” he breathed. It didn’t surprise you that Spencer had conflicting feelings about Stephen’s death, given that he hadn’t known him that well prior to his arrest, but he and his family had grown close to you in your husband’s absence.

You nodded, “There’s a meal train thing going on for them, so I was going to make some stuff and drop it there later.” Tentatively, you smoothed Spencer’s hair back, needing something to do with your hands, “Maya used to babysit a lot when I needed extra hands. I just want to feel like I’m returning the favor.”

“Can I come with you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head back to look up at you.

Smiling softly at him, you answered, “Of course.” You sniffled, “If we time it right, we could pick Nell up from school at the end of the day.”

He squeezed your hip comfortingly, “I love you.”

You leaned down and kissed him again, “I love you too.”

The chattering woke you up, Finn in his crib talking to himself as you glared at the alarm clock. It was just past three in the morning, and the second thing you noticed was that you were alone in your bed.

You sat up in a panic, worried you had dreamt the past few weeks until your eyes found Spencer’s watch sitting on his nightstand. Rubbing your eyes, you dragged yourself out of bed before getting Finn from his crib, taking his sleep sack off to make him easier to hold, “Hey,” you whispered, “Let’s go find daddy.”

It didn’t take you long, Spencer was sitting on the floor in the hallway, his knees bent to his chest as he looked into Nell’s room, her space nightlight providing a soft glow into the hallway.

“If you move to the left about a foot, you can see both of them at the same time,” you informed him.

He listened, shifting over so that he could see Eleanor and Olivia at the same time, both of them sleeping peacefully in their beds. Spencer looked up at you, “Why do you know that?”

You slid down the wall, taking a seat next to him and settling Finn lengthwise along your thighs, “At the beginning of March, Nell brought home a virus from school and gave it to Liv, and then one of them gave it to Finn. So, I’d sit out here in the hallway and watch the girls with Finny in my lap,” you told him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Just so I’d be nearby if any of them needed anything,” you kept your voice at a whisper, rocking your legs in hopes that it would soothe Finn back to sleep.

Spencer didn’t respond for a moment, thinking through what you had said before finally speaking up, “No one told me they’d been sick.”

Humming, you smoothed the baby’s hair back, keeping it out of his face, “I didn’t tell anyone.” To this day, no one else knew that you had juggled three sick kids at once, “I lied to JJ and told her that I was keeping Nell home for a few days, and she didn’t push for more information.” No one had pushed you for anything in the past three months.

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Spencer asked, leaning his head on yours and resting a hand on your knee.

You didn’t want to, quite honestly. You hadn’t wanted to have to call your mom or anyone from the BAU when you needed help because it felt like an admission of sorts. Admitting that Spencer was gone long-term and that you were a solo parent. “I don’t know,” you lied, “I felt like I had something to prove to the world.”

Spencer swallowed thickly next to you, “Did it work?”

Shaking your head, you sighed a breath of relief at his presence, “No.”

He was quiet for a while, likely wallowing in a pit of guilt that he had been constructing for weeks, “We should get him back to bed.”

“Spence?” You whispered, closing your eyes and listening to the sounds of your quiet house, “Can we just stay like this for a little while?”

Humming a confirmation, Spencer placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, leaving his hand resting on your knee while the two of you remained in the hallway, enjoying each other’s company.

“We should’ve done cupcakes,” you said mournfully, turning on the oven light to see that there was something very off about the cake you’d put in the oven.

Spencer hummed, looking at the recipe again to see if there was something you had missed, “Why didn’t we do cupcakes?”

You huffed, “The Pinterest photo I found was of a cake.” It was a perfect cake, complete with a purple graduation cap made out of fondant that you could put on the top. The only problem was you had severely overestimated your baking abilities.

“So,” Spencer started, “It’s your fault.”

Scoffing, you tapped his chest with a silicone spatula, “It’s the fault of whoever posted the original photo!”

Spencer smiled at you, a dopey look in his eyes despite it being one in the morning. “We should’ve asked Penelope to do the cake,” he told you, flipping over the recipe you had printed out.

“We can make a cake,” you retorted, you were throwing a very small party for Nell’s last day of kindergarten—the first time you’ve invited a group over since Spencer was arrested. “You have three PhDs and you don’t think you can bake a cake?”

He raised his eyebrows at you, “This might come as a surprise to you, but none of my coursework ever involved baking.”

You grinned at him, “That does surprise me, it’s basically chemistry,” you challenged.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “Okay, come here,” he said, pulling you into his arms by the fabric of your t-shirt.

Realization fell over you as you scrambled to get away, “No! You’re gonna put frosting on my nose again.” It would be his second offense of the evening.

He followed you into the living room where you tripped over a toy truck, causing you to fall to the ground. When he offered a hand to help you up, you tugged him to the floor, causing one of the balloons that you had previously blown up to pop.

You covered your mouth to muffle your giggles, waiting to see if the noise had woken any of the kids up.

The kids were all so happy to have Spencer back, but your stomach twisted at the realization that this was the first night you’d really felt like you had Spencer back. You loved the kids, but you haven’t had a moment without them since February.

“Hey,” you said to Spencer, rolling over and flinging a balloon at him for good measure.

Carefully, you rested your chin on his chest, staring at him while he tried to calm his own laughter, “Hi,” he said back, ruffling your hair affectionately.

You took a deep breath before speaking up again, “I missed you.”

You hadn’t said it yet. You’d developed some misconstrued fear of making him feel guilty if you’d told him just how much you missed him, but it was the truth. You missed him. He smiled softly down at you, almost as if he had been waiting for you to say the words. “I missed you too,” he whispered.

Slowly, you lifted yourself up and pressed your lips to his, kissing him. It was more than any of the quick pecks you’d shared in the last few weeks, it was real. His hands dug into your waist as if he was afraid you were going to disappear, but you stayed there. You stayed with him, and you always would.

Up until the timer for the cake went off, your phone buzzing in your pocket when you finally pulled away. Breathing heavily, Spencer asked, “Is it too late to ask Penelope to do the cake?”

[artemisiasmuse]

princess treatment | rafe x low maintenance gf

cw: fluff, mentions of emotionally abusive family dynamics, slightly suggestive (mentions of sex but no details)

you’d always been treated as some sort of third parent, a therapist, a friend but never what you were: a daughter

that all changed when you started dating rafe

on top of being mistreated by your family, you’d never had a bf who treated you right

the first time rafe brought you flowers you cried, he thought he’d done something wrong but you were so touched you couldn’t say anything as you hugged him tight

he made sure to bring you flowers often, making sure you never ran out. you remember finding a flower from your bouquet in his car, asking him why he had it. “when it wilts i know i gotta get you more.” you’d proceeded to make him pull over.

it was like he was dead set on making you fall even more in love when he said, “as fucking great as that was, i don’t do these things for sex baby, i don’t expect anything okay?” you told him you knew that, which you didn’t actually since all the guys you had been with before seemed to be like that, and proceeded to kiss him some more.

to him treating you like a princess came naturally, he was never good at expressing himself so buying you presents, taking care of you, doing things for you was just second nature

in the beginning he thought it was cute how appreciative you were but when you still got shocked from his actions after months he realized you had just never been treated how you deserve

and that pissess him off

he makes it a point to treat you like an absolute princess, not even letting you open a single door by yourself, you don’t even remember the last time you put your heels on by yourself because he was always crouching down to help you before you could think about it

“rafe if you spoil me so much ill get used to it.” you murmured as you watched your 6’2 boyfriend lean down and gently place your heeled foot on his knee so he could buckle the shoe. his touch was always so gentle, as if he’d hurt you like this.

“that’s kinda the point angel,” he says it without hesitation, brows a bit furrowed as he looks for the best notch that won’t cause you discomfort. you think you might start crying again but you bite the inside of your cheek and kiss him when he stands up

rafe hates how your family treats you, but he holds his tongue because he knows you love them. it doesn’t matter to him if your family hates him, he knows he should seek their approval but he doesn’t think they deserve to dictate any part of your life

he’s holding back until your mom oversteps your boundaries in front of him and he just has to step in, taking over whatever thing she told you to do even though he knew your mother was perfectly capable. he guises it as being a good future son-in-law

“it’s okay rafe-“ you say it without realizing, so used to taking the load off of others. it’s reflexive and rafe shoots a glance that shuts you up.

“you can ask me from now on if you need anything,” he looks pointedly at your mother with a smile you know is fake. you just brush it off and think rafe is just trying to make a good impression. you don’t know he doesn’t give a fuck what your parents think. he even starts hating your sibling.

your brother is older than you but never acts that way. when you mentioned an older brother he expected someone protective of you. he was met with someone doted on by your mother, irresponsible and immature and uncaring of his sister. it seemed like you were the older sibling.

you’d been living with your parents while you both dated, you hadn’t seen anything wrong with it until rafe gets you to move out to live with him. your parents are against it at first but with the help rafe has been they have little reason to refuse him.

when you do move out you realize how much better everything is. you’re not your mother’s caretaker, or your parent’s marriage counselor, or even your brother’s mom. you’re you. and you can finally breathe. rafe doesn’t expect anything from you and it slightly unnerves you, how could he take care of you without expecting anything in return?

he pays for everything, even if you push back at first, he replaces your card in your wallet with his going as far as hiding your card and he knows you have a job and that you can afford it yourself but he doesn’t see why you have to

you’d gotten your nails done and shown them to him and when he didn’t see a charge on his card he pouted for a whole day until you gave in and agreed to use it next time

but rafe knows you’re holding back, he can see that you’re spending frugally. he doesn’t want you to, in fact nothing would make him happier than seeing a dent taken out of his bank account because of his beautiful caring girlfriend

you remember your first date when he got offended that you’d offered to split the bill, he was even more shocked when you thanked him profusely after for paying

when you whine about him taking your card he finally has to speak up, “baby, what’s yours is mine right?” you nod without pause, you loved when rafe drove your car or used your skincare. it felt so intimate and domestic like you were a married couple, the thought bringing heat to your face. “right, so what’s mine is yours.” and you can’t really refute that.

one day when he’s drying your hair after your shower, you can’t help but ask, “why are you so nice to me rafey?”

“i love you, s’that simple”

“i love you too but no one’s ever been this nice to me.”

“no one’s ever been as nice to me as you are either, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong right?” he always has a way of making you see his side so effortlessly you have to agree. you could never argue that rafe didn’t deserve the amount of love you gave him or more.

“yeah, thank you for taking care of me”

“‘you gonna thank me for the rest of our lives?” you just stare at him blankly and rafe watches the tears well up in your eyes. “hey don’t cry baby, you can thank me as many times as you want okay? just don’t go thinking you deserve any less than this.”

“i’m never letting you go.”

“i’m counting on it.”

on your anniversary, rafe buys you a car and even though you do thank him profusely and maybe cry a little it doesn’t turn your stomach with anxiety on how to thank him properly or that you don’t deserve it. instead you spend the night loving your boyfriend as much as he loves you. you realize rafe just has a different way of showing it.

a/n: instead of crashing out ab my family i wrote this :)

taglist: @ggraycelynn @clar2aa