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I just wanted to say that I absolutely ADORE you and your writing, been obsessed with your writing since ye olde 2021/2022. Whenever I’m sad I reread your fics. 😊 thank you.

oh my goodness - thank you so much 🥹

I’m so so happy they can be a comfort for you ! xx

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Not a question- just letting you know that I found Unless it’s You in our lords year of 2024 and it is one of the cutest things I have read in forever and you’re a great writer!

I’m so glad you found it and enjoyed it! Thank you so much for this sweet message :)

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The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

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…. DramaSchool!Remus one shot based on sexy dream I just had?

too much? we hate? we like?

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hey lovely i just wanted to say i loved you remus fics they’re so cute!!

You’re so sweet - I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed them! xx

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Just a Trifle

Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Fluff

TW: insecurity in relationships

It’s still odd to stay the night.

You’re not quite the girlfriend, but not quite…anything else. The two of you stopped seeing other people long ago, months ago now, though it feels longer. He teases you, touches you, kisses you seemingly whenever he can, but…you’re not his girlfriend. At least he hasn’t said and you haven’t asked. And it feels silly and stupid and immature to wait for it, to even want to, or, rather, need to call him something…to make him yours, feels silly. But still.

You don’t live here, though there are pieces of you, like demarcations of your existence all over the place. A cushion the two of you purchased together that you’d meant to take back to yours, but had looked just as sweet on his couch, especially the morning after the two of you used it to prop up your head as you laid on the sofa and he laid in your lap, playing with his hair until the both of you were asleep. Or the coffee creamer in the fridge; Remus takes his coffee black, so it could only be yours. Or the toothbrush in the travel case next to his in the cabinet, purchased just for you. Even the hand soap in the bathroom - ginger mandarin, another shopping date find - served as a symbol of your presence in his life.

And now it’s Christmas. Christmas Day had been spent with your respective families only for the two of you to end up back at Rem’s. Frankly, it’s been weeks since you were home. Every time you return, your flat is like a living memory, forgotten oranges rotting in the fruit bowl on the counter, bread going stale, always cold even when it isn’t cold outside because you turn the heating off. You don’t really live there, not anymore. Most of your clothes live at Rem’s, space in his drawers opening up, seemingly if it’s own accord. It had all felt so natural…so why can’t you ask?

It’s as though he’s determined not to notice your predicament. There’s no way he can’t, though. Right? The two of you sit on the couch with the cute pillow, the tv quietly playing “It’s a Wonderful Life”. You know he’s not really watching, he’s probably asleep with your fingers running through his hair - it’s his favorite thing in the world or so he says. Suddenly he sits up and kisses your nose as he is wont to do.

“I can hear your brain moving, bun,” he whispers affectionately, as though unwilling to interrupt the film. “I know we didn’t really talk about presents, but I got you something.” He stands briefly and walks over to the cabinet he keeps coats in near the door. The top is out of both of your reach, but he tips on his toes and blindly reaches until he pulls down a small, shabbily wrapped little box.

“Just a trifle,” he assures you in his quietly formal way. You stand rather than take the gift right away.

“Good thing I got you something, too,” you laugh quietly, suddenly shy. You go into the bedroom and reach into your overnight bag, long since unpacked and taking up space in the closet. You’d hidden the gift in there, deciding to keep it for his birthday if the two of you didn’t exchange gifts.

“On the count of three,” Remus states almost mischievously as he takes the small gift bag from you and hands you the small box. He counts and the two of you open. His is swifter, it’s in a bag after all, requiring less effort.

“Oh, thank you, doll,” he says softly, his mind clearly elsewhere even as he admires the record you’d picked out. But you can’t say anything. Because inside the tiny box is a small, thin key. Imprinted on the key is “3B”. That’s this apartment. This is a key to his apartment. You hear Rem take a deep breath, your gaze still locked on the key.

“It’s taken me too long,” he practically whispers, Jimmy Stewart’s voice still whirring from the telly a good deal louder. “And you’ve…you’ve been far too kind about it, really.”

“Not too kind,” you whisper, surprising yourself. “Never too kind for you.”

Remus smiles and pulls you to him, crushing the key between the two of you. “See? Far too good for me you are.”

“Too good to be…what exactly?” you ask, dreading the feeling of it leaving your mouth.

“To be mine,” he responds, his voice firm. “To be my girlfriend, my partner…I want you to live here. With me. As long as you’ll have me.”

You beam into his chest, your heart thundering.

“Just a trifle?” you giggle, looking up at him. He smiles down at you, pressing ever closer, eyeing your mouth.

“You know, a trifle? An ultimate token of my love an affection? A symbol of my need to have you near me forever?” he laughs as your eyes grow wide. “Whatever you want it to be.”

“I want it to be…I want it to be a step.”

“A step?” he asks, eyes flicking between your mouth and eyes, arms still holding you close.

“A step to forever,” you say, voice just as sure as his now. “That okay?”

“That’s perfect,” he replies, “perfect, my love.”

~~~

Happy Holidays xx

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Just a Trifle

Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Fluff

TW: insecurity in relationships

It’s still odd to stay the night.

You’re not quite the girlfriend, but not quite…anything else. The two of you stopped seeing other people long ago, months ago now, though it feels longer. He teases you, touches you, kisses you seemingly whenever he can, but…you’re not his girlfriend. At least he hasn’t said and you haven’t asked. And it feels silly and stupid and immature to wait for it, to even want to, or, rather, need to call him something…to make him yours, feels silly. But still.

You don’t live here, though there are pieces of you, like demarcations of your existence all over the place. A cushion the two of you purchased together that you’d meant to take back to yours, but had looked just as sweet on his couch, especially the morning after the two of you used it to prop up your head as you laid on the sofa and he laid in your lap, playing with his hair until the both of you were asleep. Or the coffee creamer in the fridge; Remus takes his coffee black, so it could only be yours. Or the toothbrush in the travel case next to his in the cabinet, purchased just for you. Even the hand soap in the bathroom - ginger mandarin, another shopping date find - served as a symbol of your presence in his life.

And now it’s Christmas. Christmas Day had been spent with your respective families only for the two of you to end up back at Rem’s. Frankly, it’s been weeks since you were home. Every time you return, your flat is like a living memory, forgotten oranges rotting in the fruit bowl on the counter, bread going stale, always cold even when it isn’t cold outside because you turn the heating off. You don’t really live there, not anymore. Most of your clothes live at Rem’s, space in his drawers opening up, seemingly if it’s own accord. It had all felt so natural…so why can’t you ask?

It’s as though he’s determined not to notice your predicament. There’s no way he can’t, though. Right? The two of you sit on the couch with the cute pillow, the tv quietly playing “It’s a Wonderful Life”. You know he’s not really watching, he’s probably asleep with your fingers running through his hair - it’s his favorite thing in the world or so he says. Suddenly he sits up and kisses your nose as he is wont to do.

“I can hear your brain moving, bun,” he whispers affectionately, as though unwilling to interrupt the film. “I know we didn’t really talk about presents, but I got you something.” He stands briefly and walks over to the cabinet he keeps coats in near the door. The top is out of both of your reach, but he tips on his toes and blindly reaches until he pulls down a small, shabbily wrapped little box.

“Just a trifle,” he assures you in his quietly formal way. You stand rather than take the gift right away.

“Good thing I got you something, too,” you laugh quietly, suddenly shy. You go into the bedroom and reach into your overnight bag, long since unpacked and taking up space in the closet. You’d hidden the gift in there, deciding to keep it for his birthday if the two of you didn’t exchange gifts.

“On the count of three,” Remus states almost mischievously as he takes the small gift bag from you and hands you the small box. He counts and the two of you open. His is swifter, it’s in a bag after all, requiring less effort.

“Oh, thank you, doll,” he says softly, his mind clearly elsewhere even as he admires the record you’d picked out. But you can’t say anything. Because inside the tiny box is a small, thin key. Imprinted on the key is “3B”. That’s this apartment. This is a key to his apartment. You hear Rem take a deep breath, your gaze still locked on the key.

“It’s taken me too long,” he practically whispers, Jimmy Stewart’s voice still whirring from the telly a good deal louder. “And you’ve…you’ve been far too kind about it, really.”

“Not too kind,” you whisper, surprising yourself. “Never too kind for you.”

Remus smiles and pulls you to him, crushing the key between the two of you. “See? Far too good for me you are.”

“Too good to be…what exactly?” you ask, dreading the feeling of it leaving your mouth.

“To be mine,” he responds, his voice firm. “To be my girlfriend, my partner…I want you to live here. With me. As long as you’ll have me.”

You beam into his chest, your heart thundering.

“Just a trifle?” you giggle, looking up at him. He smiles down at you, pressing ever closer, eyeing your mouth.

“You know, a trifle? An ultimate token of my love an affection? A symbol of my need to have you near me forever?” he laughs as your eyes grow wide. “Whatever you want it to be.”

“I want it to be…I want it to be a step.”

“A step?” he asks, eyes flicking between your mouth and eyes, arms still holding you close.

“A step to forever,” you say, voice just as sure as his now. “That okay?”

“That’s perfect,” he replies, “perfect, my love.”

~~~

Happy Holidays xx

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thanks, babes xx

hope you like it, anon!!

Have you seen an established relationship spencer fic where they go undercover in a regency roleplay house thingy while spencer has his thing with maeve and reader thinks hes cheating and reader gets kidnapped by the unsub but in the end they made up? Also i remember a tiny detail about reader being good with accents lol I cant seem to find it and its alright if you havent seen it lmao thank you🫡🫡🫂

Hi! Unfortunately that doesn't ring a bell. Maybe one of my followers knows!

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The only consistent thing about criminal minds is that I’m pretty sure every bathroom scene is shot on the exact same set

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Pride and Prejudice (2005) + tumblr posts (part 1)

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The Goodness, Love

Song Fic Inspired by the line: "Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you?" from 'Unknown/Nth' by Hozier Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAUfem! Reader Category: Angst/Fluff TW: mentions of when Hotch and Jack were in witsec due to threats from Mr. Scratch, insecurities, cursing, consumption of alcohol by legal adults

~ "Do you know I could crash beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you?" - Hozier ~

Having to stay in hiding due to the threat of Peter Lewis wasn't the ideal way to go about it, but it did mean that Aaron Hotchner got to finally be a stay-at-home dad to Jack. And, despite the fact that Peter Lewis was no longer a threat, the benefit of the time in WITSEC meant that Aaron was able to realize that that was exactly the life that he wanted to be living. Fortunately, his team being the amazing family that they are, completely understood. In fact, David Rossi insisted upon throwing him a going-away party. Rossi's house is stunning, as always, and the team really loves any opportunity to dress up and celebrate.

"Proud of you, you know?" Rossi says as he hands Aaron a whiskey soda.

"For finally retiring?" Aaron asks, smiling and taking the drink.

"For recognizing when it's healthy to step away," Emily Prentiss answers for Rossi, stepping up to the two of them.

"You're just saying that because you're in charge now," Aaron jokes.

Emily laughs and grins, "A little bit, but, no, really, boss. It's good for you. You look healthier than you have in years."

"Yeah?" Aaron nods. Emily is called away by Will and Aaron mutters to himself, "I wish everyone thought that."

"She definitely does, Aaron," David replies quietly, glancing as nonchalantly as possible over to you.

You, who hasn't yet spoken to Aaron other than a small wave and a "hi" when he'd gone into the office to formally resign. But you haven't spoken, not really. You'd entered the party - looking, in Aaron's opinion, rather ridiculously stunning in a deep, crimson summer evening dress that fits you just right, the just above ankle length skirt's ends fluttering in the breeze every so often - and murmured a shy and deeply impersonal, "congratulations, Hotch" before moving to the drinks table with JJ and Will. And this would've been entirely innocuous if you hadn't called him "Hotch".

Hotch.

Not what you'd typically call him. Not what he wants you to call him. No, he wants to return to the fondness and closeness the two of you had when he was on the team. But he doesn't know how to do that. And it seems as though you might not want to. He wasn't your boyfriend...he wasn't even close to that, but GOD he'd wanted to be. He still wants to be. He'd be happy to hold you in any capacity you'd be comfortable with, but this? This awkward and uncomfortable avoidance...this abject silence on which you've landed... It's almost too much to bear. Ever since they’d gone into WITSEC, Aaron’s heart had felt heavy. He’d thought it was because of Peter Lewis, but it’s still heavy now that they’re out of hiding. He's thrilled - beyond thrilled, really - to become a stay-at-home dad, but he knows he's leaving a whole lifetime of things behind. And if that includes you? He's not sure he'll be able to live with it.

"Hey," Spencer says, entering Dave's backyard. "Sorry, I'm late." Spencer gives Aaron a small hug and hands Dave a bottle of wine he brought.

"No worries," Dave assures him. "Tara's still running late."

"I'm sure," Spencer nods knowingly, straightening his navy blue cardigan, "traffic's dreadful."

"Hey, Spencer," you call jovially, waving to him from next to JJ. He beams and crosses to you, wrapping you in a huge hug.

And the ever so slight intimacy of this, the fact that he feels as though he could kill for a greeting like that from you makes Aaron almost throw up.

~~~

"Wondered where you'd run off to," your voice interrupts his thoughts. Aaron turns from where he's sitting, poised on the end of Dave's desk, staring out at his gorgeous view. The lawn, where the rest of the party was still taking place, wasn't visible from this window, which meant no one could see Aaron either, as he intended.

"I just, um, needed a breather," he lies uncomfortably. He feels like a coward for running away, but he could almost feel himself turning green as you greeted Spencer and then Tara with more affection than he dared to hope for since your slight coldness toward him had started. And a lawn full of profilers was hardly the audience to attempt to hide from.

"Sure," you say, and he tries not to take in your every move as you cross into the room, sitting down at Dave's desk, Aaron's back almost entirely to you. Neither of you says anything and it's just long enough that it would be almost more uncomfortable to break the silence.

Still, the silence feels like drowning. He wishes you could anchor him somehow. He can feel you staring at him, but can't bring himself to turn and face you. He needs you, but he almost can't bear it. He can't remember an uncomfortable silence with you because there never were any. Moments between the two of you were filled with work - he honestly had felt as though you could read his mind when the two of you were solving cases together - or easy conversation and laughter - he'd never known such a simple, straightforward comfort with anyone - or comfortable, companionable silence. Completely unlike this.

"It's a little odd, though," you break the silence, your voice, if Aaron's not mistaken, nearly cracking with the effort.

"What is?" he asks, barely looking over his shoulder, not sure his heart can make it if he sees you.

"You needing a breather from the people you're leaving behind," you almost whisper.

His brain is fully in control, ignoring the panging of his heart as he stands and turns to face you.

"Leaving behind?" he almost sputters.

You look away from him, biting your lip. You look almost ashamed, "Sorry, that's unfair."

"I'm not-"

You continue like he isn't speaking, standing from Dave's desk, still not looking Aaron in the eyes, "I know that Peter Lewis was...beyond anything really. And I know that Jack is the most important thing in the world and should be that's not wrong of you, and-"

Aaron crosses to your side of the desk, trying to "I'm not leav-"

"And I know that you have always gone above and beyond in this position and I know that you have lost...you have lost so much more than you deserved to lose, but-"

He steps closer, "I'm not leaving-"

"But...it's so terribly, terribly selfish of me, but Hotch I can't bear the thought of the BAU without you and...and while you were gone, it was hell. I was so worried about you and...and..."

You stop, taking a staggering breath. Aaron stops, just a breath away from you now.

"Aaron," he whispers when you don't start speaking again.

Your eyes, previously determinedly staring at his shoes, immediately jump to meet his own, "What?"

"You call me Aaron," he explains. "Not Hotch, never Hotch. Not from you, I can't...I can't bear it from you."

You swallow, but don't look away, "I...I couldn't call you Aaron. Not while you were gone."

"Why?" he asks, his hands itching to pull you to him, to take your hands, anything.

"Because," you rasp, a small tear falling down your cheek, "if something bad happened to you, I would never have to say that something bad happened to Aaron...to my Aaron."

"Your Aaron?" he asks, his voice barely above a breath, reaching up and wiping another tear as it rolls down your cheek, his hands awkwardly returning to his sides when he’s done.

"Yes," you reply. "And...now that you're leaving I can...it's so stupid, but I don't have to goodbye to...to my Aaron."

He stares down at you, not quite sure how to say what he needs to and knowing full well he can’t get through it without crying.

“I’m not leaving…” he starts, trailing off because he is leaving the BAU, but he begins again fairly easily, shocking for how heavy his heart feels, “I mean I’m leaving-I’m leaving the BAU. But I-I’m not leaving you. If you don’t want me to, that is.”

You stare at him, eyes wide as though you hadn’t expected it. Aaron doubles down, finding the strength to take your hands despite the shaking of his own.

“Because the thing is,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, so quiet he almost can’t hear it over how loud his heart is beating. “The thing is…is that I-I really rather like the idea of being yours. A-and if it suits you…I want you to be mine, too.”

You’re quiet still for only a moment before a tiny smile breaks over your lips, “Really?”

“Of course,” he sighs, his hands rushing to cup your jaw, “I-I’m so sorry I didn’t make that clear, but I would…I don’t think I’d be happy without you in my life.”

“I thought you…” you trail off, looking slightly embarrassed. “I was sure you’d forget about me.”

“Forget about you?” Aaron nearly laughs. “Oh, oh my girl, my heart would never let me forget you. It’s been carrying on without you for too long.”

You stare at him, a huge smile growing on your lips, “Well, then… I guess we’ll have to fix that.”

And as your lips brush against his for the first time, it’s as though the weight is finally lifted and Aaron’s heart feels lighter than it has in months.

~~~

~ You were like an angel to me.” - Hozier ~

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The Goodness, Love

Song Fic Inspired by the line: "Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you?" from 'Unknown/Nth' by Hozier Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAUfem! Reader Category: Angst/Fluff TW: mentions of when Hotch and Jack were in witsec due to threats from Mr. Scratch, insecurities, cursing, consumption of alcohol by legal adults

~ "Do you know I could crash beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you?" - Hozier ~

Having to stay in hiding due to the threat of Peter Lewis wasn't the ideal way to go about it, but it did mean that Aaron Hotchner got to finally be a stay-at-home dad to Jack. And, despite the fact that Peter Lewis was no longer a threat, the benefit of the time in WITSEC meant that Aaron was able to realize that that was exactly the life that he wanted to be living. Fortunately, his team being the amazing family that they are, completely understood. In fact, David Rossi insisted upon throwing him a going-away party. Rossi's house is stunning, as always, and the team really loves any opportunity to dress up and celebrate.

"Proud of you, you know?" Rossi says as he hands Aaron a whiskey soda.

"For finally retiring?" Aaron asks, smiling and taking the drink.

"For recognizing when it's healthy to step away," Emily Prentiss answers for Rossi, stepping up to the two of them.

"You're just saying that because you're in charge now," Aaron jokes.

Emily laughs and grins, "A little bit, but, no, really, boss. It's good for you. You look healthier than you have in years."

"Yeah?" Aaron nods. Emily is called away by Will and Aaron mutters to himself, "I wish everyone thought that."

"She definitely does, Aaron," David replies quietly, glancing as nonchalantly as possible over to you.

You, who hasn't yet spoken to Aaron other than a small wave and a "hi" when he'd gone into the office to formally resign. But you haven't spoken, not really. You'd entered the party - looking, in Aaron's opinion, rather ridiculously stunning in a deep, crimson summer evening dress that fits you just right, the just above ankle length skirt's ends fluttering in the breeze every so often - and murmured a shy and deeply impersonal, "congratulations, Hotch" before moving to the drinks table with JJ and Will. And this would've been entirely innocuous if you hadn't called him "Hotch".

Hotch.

Not what you'd typically call him. Not what he wants you to call him. No, he wants to return to the fondness and closeness the two of you had when he was on the team. But he doesn't know how to do that. And it seems as though you might not want to. He wasn't your boyfriend...he wasn't even close to that, but GOD he'd wanted to be. He still wants to be. He'd be happy to hold you in any capacity you'd be comfortable with, but this? This awkward and uncomfortable avoidance...this abject silence on which you've landed... It's almost too much to bear. Ever since they’d gone into WITSEC, Aaron’s heart had felt heavy. He’d thought it was because of Peter Lewis, but it’s still heavy now that they’re out of hiding. He's thrilled - beyond thrilled, really - to become a stay-at-home dad, but he knows he's leaving a whole lifetime of things behind. And if that includes you? He's not sure he'll be able to live with it.

"Hey," Spencer says, entering Dave's backyard. "Sorry, I'm late." Spencer gives Aaron a small hug and hands Dave a bottle of wine he brought.

"No worries," Dave assures him. "Tara's still running late."

"I'm sure," Spencer nods knowingly, straightening his navy blue cardigan, "traffic's dreadful."

"Hey, Spencer," you call jovially, waving to him from next to JJ. He beams and crosses to you, wrapping you in a huge hug.

And the ever so slight intimacy of this, the fact that he feels as though he could kill for a greeting like that from you makes Aaron almost throw up.

~~~

"Wondered where you'd run off to," your voice interrupts his thoughts. Aaron turns from where he's sitting, poised on the end of Dave's desk, staring out at his gorgeous view. The lawn, where the rest of the party was still taking place, wasn't visible from this window, which meant no one could see Aaron either, as he intended.

"I just, um, needed a breather," he lies uncomfortably. He feels like a coward for running away, but he could almost feel himself turning green as you greeted Spencer and then Tara with more affection than he dared to hope for since your slight coldness toward him had started. And a lawn full of profilers was hardly the audience to attempt to hide from.

"Sure," you say, and he tries not to take in your every move as you cross into the room, sitting down at Dave's desk, Aaron's back almost entirely to you. Neither of you says anything and it's just long enough that it would be almost more uncomfortable to break the silence.

Still, the silence feels like drowning. He wishes you could anchor him somehow. He can feel you staring at him, but can't bring himself to turn and face you. He needs you, but he almost can't bear it. He can't remember an uncomfortable silence with you because there never were any. Moments between the two of you were filled with work - he honestly had felt as though you could read his mind when the two of you were solving cases together - or easy conversation and laughter - he'd never known such a simple, straightforward comfort with anyone - or comfortable, companionable silence. Completely unlike this.

"It's a little odd, though," you break the silence, your voice, if Aaron's not mistaken, nearly cracking with the effort.

"What is?" he asks, barely looking over his shoulder, not sure his heart can make it if he sees you.

"You needing a breather from the people you're leaving behind," you almost whisper.

His brain is fully in control, ignoring the panging of his heart as he stands and turns to face you.

"Leaving behind?" he almost sputters.

You look away from him, biting your lip. You look almost ashamed, "Sorry, that's unfair."

"I'm not-"

You continue like he isn't speaking, standing from Dave's desk, still not looking Aaron in the eyes, "I know that Peter Lewis was...beyond anything really. And I know that Jack is the most important thing in the world and should be that's not wrong of you, and-"

Aaron crosses to your side of the desk, trying to "I'm not leav-"

"And I know that you have always gone above and beyond in this position and I know that you have lost...you have lost so much more than you deserved to lose, but-"

He steps closer, "I'm not leaving-"

"But...it's so terribly, terribly selfish of me, but Hotch I can't bear the thought of the BAU without you and...and while you were gone, it was hell. I was so worried about you and...and..."

You stop, taking a staggering breath. Aaron stops, just a breath away from you now.

"Aaron," he whispers when you don't start speaking again.

Your eyes, previously determinedly staring at his shoes, immediately jump to meet his own, "What?"

"You call me Aaron," he explains. "Not Hotch, never Hotch. Not from you, I can't...I can't bear it from you."

You swallow, but don't look away, "I...I couldn't call you Aaron. Not while you were gone."

"Why?" he asks, his hands itching to pull you to him, to take your hands, anything.

"Because," you rasp, a small tear falling down your cheek, "if something bad happened to you, I would never have to say that something bad happened to Aaron...to my Aaron."

"Your Aaron?" he asks, his voice barely above a breath, reaching up and wiping another tear as it rolls down your cheek, his hands awkwardly returning to his sides when he’s done.

"Yes," you reply. "And...now that you're leaving I can...it's so stupid, but I don't have to goodbye to...to my Aaron."

He stares down at you, not quite sure how to say what he needs to and knowing full well he can’t get through it without crying.

“I’m not leaving…” he starts, trailing off because he is leaving the BAU, but he begins again fairly easily, shocking for how heavy his heart feels, “I mean I’m leaving-I’m leaving the BAU. But I-I’m not leaving you. If you don’t want me to, that is.”

You stare at him, eyes wide as though you hadn’t expected it. Aaron doubles down, finding the strength to take your hands despite the shaking of his own.

“Because the thing is,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, so quiet he almost can’t hear it over how loud his heart is beating. “The thing is…is that I-I really rather like the idea of being yours. A-and if it suits you…I want you to be mine, too.”

You’re quiet still for only a moment before a tiny smile breaks over your lips, “Really?”

“Of course,” he sighs, his hands rushing to cup your jaw, “I-I’m so sorry I didn’t make that clear, but I would…I don’t think I’d be happy without you in my life.”

“I thought you…” you trail off, looking slightly embarrassed. “I was sure you’d forget about me.”

“Forget about you?” Aaron nearly laughs. “Oh, oh my girl, my heart would never let me forget you. It’s been carrying on without you for too long.”

You stare at him, a huge smile growing on your lips, “Well, then… I guess we’ll have to fix that.”

And as your lips brush against his for the first time, it’s as though the weight is finally lifted and Aaron’s heart feels lighter than it has in months.

~~~

~ You were like an angel to me.” - Hozier ~

Taglist: @shadyladyperfection @cielo1984 @rainsong01 @pessimystic-fangirl @saspencereid @andreasworlsboring101 @avidreider @aizawaxkun @babyspencersslut @no-honey-no  @andrewhoezierbyrne @subhuman-queer @ncsls0515  @uhuhuh @whatamidoinghp @spongeshxt  @itsametaphorbriansblog @vgirl-10123  @stand-tall-pineapple  @padsfirewhisky @ceeellewrites @dahliasbouqet @drayshadow @cal-ifornication-blog @theetherealbloom  @eevee0722 @questionmymentality @wintermuteway @ellesmythe @mac99martin @ssa-githae @cherrystay @calm-and-doctor @icedcoffee187 @devilswaldorf @annemijnisdancing @half-blood-dork @blameitonthenight21 @happyreid187 @goldeng1rl8 @meangirlsx @honestlystop @lastpasttheposts @avengers-ass-emble17 @bauhousewife @averyhotchner @underscorecourt  @fan-girl-97 @coolbeans3 @boxofsparklingmuses @allaboutsml  @ssareidbby @percabethfangirl @buckyluvbot @v-is-obsessive @tanyaherondale @usuck @mitchiri-nek0  @kaitlynpcallmebeepme @miraclesoflove @meganskane @babymetaldoll @ivebeenthinkingboutu @rockin2thebeats @infinite-tides @onlyhereforthefanfics  @g-l-pierce @thisiscalm-andits-doctor @art-and-thoughts @exhaleli @allthecolorsneverseen @measure-in-pain @acidicbloody @hotchnerxo @her-storybooks  @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @bilesxbilinskixlahey @wilbur-rabbit @twilightlover2007 @ssamorganhotchner @h0tch-r0cket @wheelsupkels @jhiddles03 @lovesammikinzz @scargarcia-magshotchner @chaoticconnoisseurgiver @baueoud @mischiefmanaged71 @gspenc @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @kajjaka @chickensrule  @marvel-mars @wanniiieeee @gublur  @rousethemouse @unionjackpillow  @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid @meowiemari​

[reidscanehand]

i think if i knew you irl i would want to be your bestfriend

this is the sweetest 🥹

ditto, lovely xx

[reidscanehand]

I Remember Halloween

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Category: Fluff/Comfort

Warnings: mentions of burnout and anxieties

Based on a single tiktok and this song

~ More and more I’ll catalogue my doubts ~

You could see the signs. Hell, you’d always been able to see the signs. Even when you and Spencer weren’t dating and were just co-workers, you’d been able to see the signs. You don’t see how anyone could miss any of Spencer’s tells, honestly, though he was terribly good at masking them when he wanted to. However, since semi-retiring from the BAU and focusing more on teaching, Spencer had been less careful, less guarded. It would annoy him if you said so, but you delighted in it - the openness, the guard finally down fully. Suffice it to say that when your adorable husband came home two weeks in a row, exhausted even after only teaching one class, you recognized it as burnout, even if he didn’t. Or wouldn’t - self care had never been Spencer’s strong suit. Which is why the element of surprise is entirely necessary, no matter how drastic it may feel. It was incredibly helpful that, despite living through a pandemic working in education and being a genius, your husband still is an abysmally precious mess when it comes to technology.

You’d originally thought to do a Friday, but with various friend and family celebrations almost every weekend until the end of the year, it made more sense - and frankly made it more fun - to cancel Spencer’s classes for a day and play hooky a little.

It’s a bright and slightly rainy Thursday morning - random, but purposefully so - in September. Your husband’s alarm goes off and he leans over, pressing a kiss to your temple, before getting up and taking a shower. Every so often, you’d join him in the shower, but not today. Today you get up and head to the kitchen.

You’d loved Spencer’s old apartment, but when the two of you moved in together, especially after the events of his last few somewhat traumatizing years with the BAU, a change felt necessary. The two bedroom, two bath bungalow you two found just outside of Stafford, Virginia was just as charming as Spencer’s old place. Antique, but modern enough to have better security than his old building (he is understandably a stickler for safety). The kitchen features windows looking out into your small backyard, Spencer planted a tree last year and you’re sure it was in order to watch the leaves change as fall arrives. The tips of the leaves are just beginning to yellow, the light rain a perfect background for the day you have planned. You turn on the stove and oven and open the fridge, pulling out a can of pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls and the package of turkey bacon. You begin cooking and you can hear your husband start getting ready and, just as you thought it would, the smell of the food draws him away from his typical morning routine (get dressed, make coffee, grab a granola bar if he remembers to) and brings him to the kitchen.

“Is there a reason,” he asks from the doorway, “that it smells…like, um-“

“Like fall?” you ask, smiling over your shoulder at him as you flip the turkey bacon in the pan. Spencer grins and you turn back to the food.

“Well, yeah,” Spencer says. “You planning a fun day alone?”

You wince a little at the small hint of jealousy you hear in his voice, thrilled that your response is, “No, not alone.”

“Oh,” he replies, a little shocked. “Is someone coming ov-“

“Nope,” you reply cheerfully, grabbing a mitt and pulling the cinnamon rolls out of the oven.

“Wait…wait, what?” Spencer questions, totally not distracted by you bending over like that.

“Come on, lovey,” you tease, turning to face him fully. “Put the pieces together.”

He stares at you for a moment and then looks almost overwhelmingly sad, “Honey, I have three classes today, I can’t-“

“About that,” you cut him off quietly. He arches a brow at you, but you cross to the end of the kitchen island, pulling out Spencer’s university laptop and opening it, clicking to his classes’ dashboard page on the school’s site and turning it around slowly, chewing on your lip just a little nervously.

“Dear Students,” Spencer reads after popping on his glasses. “Classes are cancelled until Monday due to slight illness on my part. Have a great long weekend - be sure to read ahead for Monday!”

There’s a slightly too long silence that makes you just a bit nervous.

“I know it might be a bit of an overstep, but you’ve just seemed so…so burned out lately and-“ you’re cut off as Spencer moves to stand right in front of you.

“You cancelled my classes for me?” he asks, a small smile poking at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you reply.

“So that we could…do what, exactly?” He attempts to keep his smile at bay, but is nearly beaming.

“Well,” you smile, “I thought we could eat some pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls and bacon and, I don’t know, maybe get really cozy on our super comfortable couch and watch Hocus Pocus, Corpse Bride, and Practical Magic? Maybe throw in Crimson Peak if we’re still going strong?”

“Just to clarify, you realized I was burned out and decided to plan a cozy fall movie day to make me feel better?” Spencer asks, almost incredulous, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“That would be it, yes,” you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Damn,” he mutters quietly, looking down at you.

“What?” you giggle.

“Nothing,” Spencer beams, turning his head and eyeing your lips, “I just definitely married the perfect woman.”

Your laugh is quickly quashed by his lips on yours.

~ I remember Halloween. ~

Tag List: @shadyladyperfection @cielo1984 @rainsong01 @pessimystic-fangirl @saspencereid @andreasworlsboring101 @avidreider  @aizawaxkun @babyspencersslut @no-honey-no  @subhuman-queer  @uhuhuh @whatamidoinghp @spongeshxt  @itsametaphorbriansblog @vgirl-10123  @stand-tall-pineapple  @padsfirewhisky @ceeellewrites @dahliasbouqet @drayshadow @cal-ifornication-blog @theetherealbloom  @eevee0722 @questionmymentality @wintermuteway @ellesmythe @ssa-githae @cherrystay @calm-and-doctor @devilswaldorf @half-blood-dork @blameitonthenight21 @happyreid187 @goldeng1rl8 @meangirlsx @honestlystop @avengers-ass-emble17 @bauhousewife @averyhotchner @underscorecourt  @fan-girl-97 @coolbeans3 @boxofsparklingmuses @allaboutsml @percabethfangirl @buckyluvbot @v-is-obsessive @tanyaherondale @usuck @mitchiri-nek0  @kaitlynpcallmebeepme @miraclesoflove @meganskane @babymetaldoll @ivebeenthinkingboutu @rockin2thebeats @infinite-tides @onlyhereforthefanfics  @g-l-pierce @thisiscalm-andits-doctor @art-and-thoughts @exhaleli @allthecolorsneverseen @measure-in-pain @acidicbloody @hotchnerxo @her-storybooks  @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @bilesxbilinskixlahey @wilbur-rabbit @twilightlover2007 @ssamorganhotchner @h0tch-r0cket @wheelsupkels @jhiddles03 @lovesammikinzz @m-mhotchner @chaoticconnoisseurgiver @baueoud @mischiefmanaged71 @gspenc @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @her-storybooks @kajjaka @chickensrule  @marvel-mars @wanniiieeee @gublur @aivilovio @rousethemouse​ @unionjackpillow​

[reidscanehand]

I Remember Halloween

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Category: Fluff/Comfort

Warnings: mentions of burnout and anxieties

Based on a single tiktok and this song

~ More and more I’ll catalogue my doubts ~

You could see the signs. Hell, you’d always been able to see the signs. Even when you and Spencer weren’t dating and were just co-workers, you’d been able to see the signs. You don’t see how anyone could miss any of Spencer’s tells, honestly, though he was terribly good at masking them when he wanted to. However, since semi-retiring from the BAU and focusing more on teaching, Spencer had been less careful, less guarded. It would annoy him if you said so, but you delighted in it - the openness, the guard finally down fully. Suffice it to say that when your adorable husband came home two weeks in a row, exhausted even after only teaching one class, you recognized it as burnout, even if he didn’t. Or wouldn’t - self care had never been Spencer’s strong suit. Which is why the element of surprise is entirely necessary, no matter how drastic it may feel. It was incredibly helpful that, despite living through a pandemic working in education and being a genius, your husband still is an abysmally precious mess when it comes to technology.

You’d originally thought to do a Friday, but with various friend and family celebrations almost every weekend until the end of the year, it made more sense - and frankly made it more fun - to cancel Spencer’s classes for a day and play hooky a little.

It’s a bright and slightly rainy Thursday morning - random, but purposefully so - in September. Your husband’s alarm goes off and he leans over, pressing a kiss to your temple, before getting up and taking a shower. Every so often, you’d join him in the shower, but not today. Today you get up and head to the kitchen.

You’d loved Spencer’s old apartment, but when the two of you moved in together, especially after the events of his last few somewhat traumatizing years with the BAU, a change felt necessary. The two bedroom, two bath bungalow you two found just outside of Stafford, Virginia was just as charming as Spencer’s old place. Antique, but modern enough to have better security than his old building (he is understandably a stickler for safety). The kitchen features windows looking out into your small backyard, Spencer planted a tree last year and you’re sure it was in order to watch the leaves change as fall arrives. The tips of the leaves are just beginning to yellow, the light rain a perfect background for the day you have planned. You turn on the stove and oven and open the fridge, pulling out a can of pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls and the package of turkey bacon. You begin cooking and you can hear your husband start getting ready and, just as you thought it would, the smell of the food draws him away from his typical morning routine (get dressed, make coffee, grab a granola bar if he remembers to) and brings him to the kitchen.

“Is there a reason,” he asks from the doorway, “that it smells…like, um-“

“Like fall?” you ask, smiling over your shoulder at him as you flip the turkey bacon in the pan. Spencer grins and you turn back to the food.

“Well, yeah,” Spencer says. “You planning a fun day alone?”

You wince a little at the small hint of jealousy you hear in his voice, thrilled that your response is, “No, not alone.”

“Oh,” he replies, a little shocked. “Is someone coming ov-“

“Nope,” you reply cheerfully, grabbing a mitt and pulling the cinnamon rolls out of the oven.

“Wait…wait, what?” Spencer questions, totally not distracted by you bending over like that.

“Come on, lovey,” you tease, turning to face him fully. “Put the pieces together.”

He stares at you for a moment and then looks almost overwhelmingly sad, “Honey, I have three classes today, I can’t-“

“About that,” you cut him off quietly. He arches a brow at you, but you cross to the end of the kitchen island, pulling out Spencer’s university laptop and opening it, clicking to his classes’ dashboard page on the school’s site and turning it around slowly, chewing on your lip just a little nervously.

“Dear Students,” Spencer reads after popping on his glasses. “Classes are cancelled until Monday due to slight illness on my part. Have a great long weekend - be sure to read ahead for Monday!”

There’s a slightly too long silence that makes you just a bit nervous.

“I know it might be a bit of an overstep, but you’ve just seemed so…so burned out lately and-“ you’re cut off as Spencer moves to stand right in front of you.

“You cancelled my classes for me?” he asks, a small smile poking at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you reply.

“So that we could…do what, exactly?” He attempts to keep his smile at bay, but is nearly beaming.

“Well,” you smile, “I thought we could eat some pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls and bacon and, I don’t know, maybe get really cozy on our super comfortable couch and watch Hocus Pocus, Corpse Bride, and Practical Magic? Maybe throw in Crimson Peak if we’re still going strong?”

“Just to clarify, you realized I was burned out and decided to plan a cozy fall movie day to make me feel better?” Spencer asks, almost incredulous, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“That would be it, yes,” you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Damn,” he mutters quietly, looking down at you.

“What?” you giggle.

“Nothing,” Spencer beams, turning his head and eyeing your lips, “I just definitely married the perfect woman.”

Your laugh is quickly quashed by his lips on yours.

~ I remember Halloween. ~

Tag List: @shadyladyperfection @cielo1984 @rainsong01 @pessimystic-fangirl @saspencereid @andreasworlsboring101 @avidreider  @aizawaxkun @babyspencersslut @no-honey-no  @subhuman-queer  @uhuhuh @whatamidoinghp @spongeshxt  @itsametaphorbriansblog @vgirl-10123  @stand-tall-pineapple  @padsfirewhisky @ceeellewrites @dahliasbouqet @drayshadow @cal-ifornication-blog @theetherealbloom  @eevee0722 @questionmymentality @wintermuteway @ellesmythe @ssa-githae @cherrystay @calm-and-doctor @devilswaldorf @half-blood-dork @blameitonthenight21 @happyreid187 @goldeng1rl8 @meangirlsx @honestlystop @avengers-ass-emble17 @bauhousewife @averyhotchner @underscorecourt  @fan-girl-97 @coolbeans3 @boxofsparklingmuses @allaboutsml @percabethfangirl @buckyluvbot @v-is-obsessive @tanyaherondale @usuck @mitchiri-nek0  @kaitlynpcallmebeepme @miraclesoflove @meganskane @babymetaldoll @ivebeenthinkingboutu @rockin2thebeats @infinite-tides @onlyhereforthefanfics  @g-l-pierce @thisiscalm-andits-doctor @art-and-thoughts @exhaleli @allthecolorsneverseen @measure-in-pain @acidicbloody @hotchnerxo @her-storybooks  @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @bilesxbilinskixlahey @wilbur-rabbit @twilightlover2007 @ssamorganhotchner @h0tch-r0cket @wheelsupkels @jhiddles03 @lovesammikinzz @m-mhotchner @chaoticconnoisseurgiver @baueoud @mischiefmanaged71 @gspenc @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @her-storybooks @kajjaka @chickensrule  @marvel-mars @wanniiieeee @gublur @aivilovio @rousethemouse​ @unionjackpillow​

[reidscanehand]

Your blog is not showing up in the searchbar :l I don't know if it's because you change your visibility settings or something else but :((

hey! it should be fixed now!

[reidscanehand]

Just to add to the last few posts.

PLEASE DO NOT PUT MY FICS INTO AI. PLEASE DO NOT STEAL THEM. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST.

I try really, really hard with my writing. I love doing it. I love doing it for myself and I love sharing it with you guys. I put a lot of effort into everything I post, including graphics and playlists. Please don’t take that away from me by comparing what I do to what a robot can pump out ten seconds.

Please encourage writers in the most uplifting way you can. Please reblog, please comment, please share your thoughts and feelings with us. Tell us what you like, what you hope for. Share your excitement for the fandom, for the fics, for our work, for our plot lines and ideas. We’ll share it back.

Writers, content creators, we work so hard for free and compared to how tumblr was years ago, we receive very little in return. Add a sideblog, share your favourite stories, write a little review, send your favourite writer some feedback and some love. It’s free - just like our stories.

Please don’t let AI and the assumption that tumblr has an algorithm that works like tiktok ruin content creators love for sharing their work.