#GAHHH like i didn't even realize it had been that long but i am SO sorry about that!! but oh well uhhh. jervis is more than likely going-

[mad-hunts]

like the tide, or perhaps like a capricious god as her fury did almost seem to measure up to one, matilda's mood always seemed to always be changing. and this was another way in which she was comparable to her father. one moment, she could appear to be the wretchedest of all of the mathis' children, and then the next... matilda was doing things like offering a metaphorical olive branch towards someone whom she didn't seem to care a lick about earlier that day. but this was not something that matilda thought to be exclusive to certain people. in her mind, everyone was like this, so most of the time she just thought it was a part of the very human condition to be temperamental.

but even with saying that, there was still one thing that matilda couldn't explain away with a debatably warped belief of who people are, and that was her propensity for being violent. so, if she were to somehow learn that jervis was suspicious of the water she'd given him, then matilda couldn't say she would blame the other. the very blade of her butterfly sword was usually doused in a poison made to paralyze her victims before they died. but even matilda upheld herself to certain 'standards' and one of those was not taking cheap shots at people; thus poisoning someone's food or drink? it was not something matilda would usually do, as that took all of the 'fun' out of fighting for her.

she really hadn't been doing much fighting at all lately however. a sigh slipped through her lips while she turned over her father's hand after inserting an iv into him, only to look at his palm. the execution of the guard he'd killed seemed to have not only left him with a slight emotional souvenir of guilt, but multiple physical ones as well. that skin was rubbed completely raw from trying to keep ahold of the chain barton strangled the man with and was even peeling in some spots. matilda made a mental note to patch that up for him, too, soon. she tended to try to intelluctualize her emotions rather than always hold them inside or bear them out for everyone to see... so, maybe that's why jervis looked at her now as if she were as calm as a glassy lake.

still, even if matilda wasn't quite as okay as she portrayed herself to be on the outside, she thought there was no use in looking at her (metaphorical) wounds forever. which led her to decide to bring up the sort of ridiculousness that was the news that day. looking back on it, matilda was surprised some of the clips that had been shown in there had made it to the final cut. there were some parts in the interviews they conducted that even made the broadcaster seem to want to laugh. the beginnings of matilda's teeth began to peek through her lips when jervis had asked her what they said, as that meant she could show him just exactly how much of a dumpster fire it was. a funny one but still a fire regardless.

pulling out her phone, matilda then crossed the room once more to settle near jervis, but just enough so that she could easily give him her phone when it was time. ❝ honestly, i think it'd be better if i showed you. i had taken a video of it originally to show my dad it. but since he's down for the count right now, i guess watching it again with you will just have to do. ❞ matilda didn't say that at all in a bitter way — quite the opposite, actually — as she took another swig out of her own water and slid the phone over to him. the cover of the video was about what you'd expect from someone who seemed to had rushed to record the broadcast. and by that, i mean it was just the slightest bit blurry.

matilda clicked the 'play' button on the video and turned her attention to her phone screen. they seemed to be in what your normal newsroom would look like at the beginning, with the main broadcaster being a woman with red hair done up as she addressed the audience, ❝ hello, and welcome back to the news-vault at two o'clock with your host, piper lochiel. today, we've received some shocking news that there has been two men found dead at the scene inside what looked to be a prisoner transport van. this van was heading to the highly controversial institute for the criminally insane, known as arkham asylum. and the police have said the main suspects are to not be approached in public if seen because they're considered to be very dangerous. ❞

yup, it seemed like barton was right about them calling the both of them something along the lines of 'dangerous.' two mugshots, one of barton who's hair was even wilder than usual and who looked like he'd just stumbled out of a luau party intoxicated, as well as one of jervis glaring at the camera almost judgmentally with an exaggerated frown and a big black eye (seriously, why did they always have to use the worst pictures of everyone on the news?) then showed up in the corner of the screen. matilda had to cough to prevent herself from laughing at the terrible choices of pictures they'd used in her opinion.

and it was just getting started, unfortunately. the video did look to be quite lengthy... though, she did plan on skipping through some of the more 'boring' parts.

Jervis watched Matilda approach his corner with a wary eye, every step measured, bracing himself for the unknown. His grip tightened around the pin he held. When she placed the bottle of water near him, it was a jolt—an unexpected gesture that caught him off guard, especially given her sudden apology.

Her words stirred something in him—a mix of emotions he hadn't anticipated. The beg-pardon, simple as it was, evoked a strange, reluctant sense of gratitude. Even though Matilda had already turned her attention back to Barton, leaving him alone with the water, Jervis found himself staring at the bottle, contemplating whether to trust this small token of peace. It reminded him very much of how he had hesitated over Barton’s falooda, not so long ago.

As he observed Matilda’s practiced care for her father, Jervis took a cautious sip from the bottle. The cool liquid eased his dry throat, and he couldn’t help but reflect on the tenuousness of their situation. Her actions, calm and competent, underscored his own vulnerability and the fragile balance they were all trying to maintain.

Then, Matilda’s voice cut through the thickening atmosphere with a teasing lilt, disrupting the tension that had built up like a stone tossed into a pond. The offer to share what the news had said about them introduced an unexpected levity into the room. Her mischievous smile was disarming, making Jervis almost forget the tense moments that had passed between them.

He considered her words for a moment before responding, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "What did those red top fuckers say this time?" he asked, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth despite himself. "I suppose I could use a good laugh."

Despite his many fears and grievances and the precariousness of their situation, Matilda's effort to bridge the gap with humor wasn't lost on him; it was a small step, certainly, but it made him feel a bit less like a monster lurking in the corner and more like a person.

[reidgenius]

Low Pain Tolerance | S.R. x Reader

image by reidgif <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Word Count: 1.4k Category: angst, hurt/comfort? Warnings: commitment issues, wildly insecure!reader (it's really just me) A/N: I haven't written for Spencer before, so please excuse any OOC inaccuracies and be nice okay! I am a long-time lurker/admirer of the lovely @pathologicalreid and am writing this for her cutesy margovember event :) Song Inspo: Low Pain Tolerance by Abby Holliday

You never enjoyed running.

Still, that didn't stop you from doing it often. Whether it be on the job or in a relationship, you ran.

To catch a bad guy. To catch yourself before you fall. To stop something terrible before it happens... You ran.

In this instance, you found yourself running from Spencer Reid.

"Would you look at me? Please?" he pleaded.

You knew if you were to turn around that you'd see his glassy doe eyes and be drawn right back in. You knew your weaknesses, and he was certainly one of them. The biggest one. That's why you stayed put, staring at his bedroom wall.

"I can't, Spence." You meant to say it with finality, but it came out more as a whimper.

"You can't look at me, or you can't-"

"Neither. Both."

As the holidays approached, Spencer had mentioned the idea of the two of you making a trip out to Vegas. "Just for a day or two," he'd promised. Though there wasn't much he treasured about home, you knew that his mother was there, and that was more than reason enough.

This evening, he'd brought it up again after letting you avoid the topic for weeks.

"It's only a matter of time before you figure it out," you admit.

"Figure what out?"

"God, Spence, that I'm only bringing you down!" you nearly shouted, though you hadn't meant to. The anxiety took over. "I'm like... gahhh! I don't know how to do any of this, I-"

To your dismay, he let out a laugh as you finally turned to face him. A real, genuine laugh.

"Bringing me down?" He looked at you with an earnest amusement. "Honey, I don't think you realize what you-"

"I'm scared. Okay? Is that what you wanted me to admit? That I'm scared of meeting her?" A single tear gushed down your cheek.

His brows knit in concern as he quickly thought of ways to disprove the common fears surrounding schizophrenia and it's manifestations.

"Baby, schizophrenia doesn't ma-"

"Dammit Spencer, it's not about that! It's- I..."

You found yourself stumbling over your words.

"I don't care about her diagnoses!" you laughed. (Of course, you did care, but that wasn't what was scaring you.) "I'm scared of this!" you said, waving your hands between the two of you. "I don't want to rush it. I don't want to get her hopes up..."

You let your legs give way to sit on the floor against the wall, your head in your hands, mumbling to the cold hardwood.

"I don't want to get my hopes up."

There was it. That was the truth.

You weren't used to it. You weren't used to someone asking you how your day was and really caring. You weren't used to the notion that a man would want to wrap himself around you at night and keep you close. You'd never been one to draw much attention from men. Or women. Or anyone, really.

Naturally, you figured that there must be something deeply and inherently flawed in you. Something Spencer had yet to discover.

So, being with him was... terrifying. You were constantly waiting and wondering when he'd conclude that you weren't as pretty as he initially thought, or as witty, or as intelligent, or kind, or...

And it would only be cruel to drag Diana into this. To have her think that perhaps her son had found his person. To have her thinking that she might be meeting her future daughter-in-law. It felt cruel to yourself, in some twisted way, to pretend that this was all going to last.

Spencer was typically a fast thinker, but your admission had the cogs in his brain working overtime. You were afraid of him? Of your relationship?

He padded over to join you on the floor, keeping a little distance so as not to scare you.

"Get your hopes up? You don't-" he gulped, "I mean... you don't think we're gonna- that this is gonna work out?"

Still speaking to the floor, you sigh, "I don't know, Spence."

You were exhausted. Incessantly feeling like you're on the brink of being "found out" can do that to a person. It's not that Spencer hadn't done all the right things. No, he was the perfect partner. But therein lied the issue. He was perfect. And, in your opinion, you were far, far from it.

You took a deep breath through your tears.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

Confusion. Utter shock. Things had been going so well with you the past 8 months. Spencer immediately began to wrack his brain combing through all the possible mistakes he could've made. Did he raise his voice with you? Had he forgotten some big milestone? Was he not giving you enough?

"Honey I-" he gathered himself, placing a hand on your thigh, "I'm so sorry. Can I ask... what makes you say all this?"

Though you were reluctant, you figured that now was as good a time as any.

"Spencer. I am not good for you! Good enough for you!" With each point, you illustrated by raising a finger, "I am impulsive and I complain and I get weird sometimes when you touch me and I can be a massive bitch and I never know how to-"

"Woah, woah, woah-" He snuck up closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his head atop yours, all while you kept rambling. "Why in the world do you say that? Not good enough for me? If anything it's me who isn't deserving of you..."

"No, you-"

He stopped you in your tracks just by saying your name in that beautiful way he does. Like its covered in honey and dripping with admiration.

"You are everything. You may think those things about yourself but I certainly don't." His thumb caressed your bare skin so carefully as he continued, speaking slowly so as to allow the words to really sink in. "You are the most generous person I've ever encountered. You care so deeply about people you love. You are courageous and willing to try all the weird foods I suggest even though you really don't want to." He smirked a bit at that one. "You have taken everything that life has thrown at you and navigated it with grace. You really are just... you're it. You're her. You're the girl - the woman - I've always hoped would come my way but never dreamed actually would. Honey, I've figured out everything I need to know when it comes to how I feel about you."

You sat there, warm under his embrace, pondering his words as he spoke. It's nothing he hasn't said before, granted, in much less grand and emotionally charged ways. But it was like you were really hearing it for the first time. You wanted so badly to believe him.

"I love you," he continued. "I love you so much that sometimes I am afraid of myself. Of what I'd do for you. You, god, you make me so much better."

"I love you, too. Too much," you squeaked out.

"No. Not too much." He leaned back to encourage you to look up at him. "You know I really mean all that right? Just the way you are. Quirks included?"

"I guess. And now I'm just self-conscious that I am so self-conscious..."

"You say that as if I'm not the exact same way!" he chuckles, trying to make light of what is clearly a shared wound. You'll deal with that later. Together, preferably. "Please, trust me. Do you trust me?"

And you did. You trusted Spencer with every cell in your body and hair on your head. There was nobody else you'd ever been so confident in. So, you nod against his chest as your tears begin to subside.

"Good. Now why don't we move this party up into the bed?"

"No offense, Spencer, but the last thing I want right now is to f-"

"No no no nooope! Not that, babe," he laughed. "Just wanna lay with you 'til this feeling passes. Is that okay?"

"Please."

And so, the rest of the evening consisted of cuddles under your massive comforter. Sweet admissions whispered in your ear. The tiniest kisses to your hairline and your shoulder and your nose and your wrists.

By the time you dozed into a worry-free slumber, you believed him a little more.

Perhaps you could let Spencer love you, forever.