#The ending to this case was kinda bittersweet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamiversee · 9 months ago

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 41 || The Cute Bartender

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, very cute fluff, & teasing.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.6k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOUR QUESTION REMAINS unanswered for quite some time. To constantly weigh out your options of who would be a better lover for you is going to take time.

But, as of right now, even if you wanted to choose Gojo over Choso, he's already made it clear he's not allowing that. He doesn't think he's good for you and, in case you forgot, you're technically supposed to hate him.

That being said, your choice is already made for you.

But none of that is important right now. You were allowed a break until the semester began again but, since your university's winter break was a span of two, almost three months, you were honestly ready to finish the list by late January.

Even though you said you were taking a break from the men, you still kept in contact with them. You'd text Choso on some days but he'd often scold you about how you wanted a break, which only made you want to talk to him more.

Then, you even had your phone calls with Gojo which consisted of him doing the same damn thing-- pestering you by saying 'As much as I love listening to you talk, sweets, you're supposed to be taking a break from me' which, was just as sweet as the messages Choso would send.

Yeah, you were definitely falling for both of them in your own way and nothing could stop that. Even so, you were ready to get back to the list.

There was one name left. You couldn't believe it. As of now, you were laid out on your bed, your delicate fingers curled around a pen as you went down the list of yours. Reading over each name reminded you of your experiences with them, whether it was good or bad, and you were surprised you finally made it this far.

At one point, you doubted you could even do this. So many lessons have been learned, so many personalities and so many situations have been experienced. It's almost, emphasis on almost, beautiful when you think back on it.

To go from a broke and regular college student to one whose life is filled with drama, good (for the most part) sex, and men who've somehow managed to fall for you. It's the kinda thing you never imagined for yourself.

Just one semester ago, you were worried about even landing a job and now look at you; you've managed the money from Gojo better than ever so you're truly set for quite some time.

With a sigh, you place the pen down beside your journal and trace your fingers over the final name; Nanami Kento. Once you sleep with him it's over. It's almost bittersweet to think about.

As you stare at your journal, you think you have a plan for it once the list is complete. A plan that you've talked to Gojo about and he's agreed to-- the two of you are going to burn the list.

Neither of you want any physical evidence of it so you think burning it once it's complete will prove to be a nice way to say goodbye to the memories that come with the list. Nowhere in your text messages or his do you two discuss the list explicitly, just in case someone were ever to go through your devices, and the only time it's been talked about aside from in person is over phone calls.

But, you're not worrying about that getting out. Someone would have to dig really deep to find the recordings of you and Gojo's phone calls. Like, to the police deep to find them. Or hacking your cell. But, you have no reason to worry about that, right? Gojo said he's not involved in anything illegal and you trust him (to some extent).

So again, it's bittersweet to think about this list finally coming to an end. It was like a game you had to play and knowing that the end credits were about to roll soon just made you feel odd inside. Yeah, you wanted it to end but as it was actually happening, it was like leaving a chapter of your life behind.

After all, you'll never be able to undo what's been done. You can't go back and change who you've slept with or how.

So, with that final little thought, you sigh again and then shut your journal. Getting up to put it away in its locked drawer compartment, you wonder what it'll be like to finally meet Nanami.

You have a good feeling about him.

And no, not one of those good feelings that result in disaster but, an actual good feeling. Something about the thought of this tall, blonde, and sexy man whose facial expression holds a stupidly attractive seriousness at all times just makes you feel calm.

You feel like you're going to be dealing with someone so mature that it'll ease your mind, kind of like how your mind was at ease when you first met Choso.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

And you had every right to be in good spirits about meeting Nanami because the man did, in fact, turn out to be one of the best and lightest experiences for you.

Despite how difficult he may seem, Nanami is just a man you couldn't catch at the right time. That was the only reason why you ever considered him to be 'hard' to seduce. And no, it's not some magical effect you had that made your efforts work, it was this genuine and raw connection that formed when you met him.

It was surely a night to be remembered.

A simple pair of black heels lightly clacked against the floor as you walked with your head held high into that damned nightclub-- the same nightclub in which you couldn't run into Nanami at the right time for the longest. This night was different though, as you had arrived before him for once.

It wasn't planned or anything but, your arrival to the building was before he'd gotten there. The dress you wore to accompany the heels on your feet was just as simple and was shaded in the same color; black. It was moderately tight-fitting and hugged your body just right.

Unlike some of your past dresses, it didn't make you feel like you were going all out and you thought you blended in nicely with everyone else that was there. Around your neck was that same necklace Gojo gifted to you on Christmas as you never really had the heart to leave home without it on.

Your excuse for wearing it all the time was because it was really pretty. It had nothing to do with Gojo of course. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself anyway.

Making your way to the bar, you took a seat in an area you knew Nanami to typically sit at and then you scouted the area for either him or the cute brown-haired friend he's always with. Finding nothing and no one, you sigh and decide to order a drink.

After which, you gave yourself thirty minutes before you'd leave and try again in another two weeks. You didn't even tell Gojo you were starting back up on the list yet so it's not like there was any pressure for you to seduce Nanami tonight, maybe that's what made everything so different.

Your nails tapped across the bar as you waited and at some point, you even made conversation with the cheeky bartender. The thing about this bartender is that you've seen him talk to Nanami plenty of times and you're pretty sure they're friends.

He had this really cute face and pretty brown eyes that made you feel safe in a strange way. Every time you see him he's got this beanie on top of his head and his clothes are always baggy, something you saw his manager scold him about a few times at one point.

Either way, today was your first time actually talking to him and you learn that his name is Ino Takuma and that he actually recognizes you, having paid attention to the few times you've been there.

"Are you waiting on someone, beautiful?" Ino had questioned you.

Oh yeah, and he's also been complimenting you nonstop from the moment you two began talking. It's in a friendly way, you think. It doesn't seem like he's flirting, just being kind, which you like.

You smiled at the man, "Is it that obvious?"

He makes this silly face in thought and you note how expressive he is. "Hmmmm, I mean for me, yeah. But that's only because I see you come here around the same time every two weeks."

"Yeah?" You meet his eyes with a smile on your face and he holds the eye contact for at least five seconds before he looks away. He's adorable. "So, you've really been paying attention to me all this time?" You ask before going to take another sip of your preferred drink of the night.

Ino laughs and the sound is so joyful it almost heals something in you. "I mean, nooo..." He drags out, smiling through his words before he shrugs, "I pay attention to everyone. And plus, how could I forget a pretty face like yours?"

You're still staring at him and you don't think you've ever paid attention to how much someone avoids eye contact before dealing with Choso. After that man, it's so obvious to you now when someone gets nervous to look you in the eye for too long.

"Is that a compliment, Ino?" You ask softly, the use of his name making his ears flush a cute shade of pink.

He clears his throat and wipes down a part of the nearby counter. There are not that many people at the bar tonight so that gave him the leisure to speak to you. "...Yeah," Ino replies, trying to focus on his small task instead of your eyes gazing at his face.

You hum. "Thank you," You say before moving to rest your chin in the palm of your hand as you rest your elbow on the bar.

Ino finishes his little task and then places the cloth he used elsewhere, finally looking at you now that your eyes have gone elsewhere, "He'll be here soon, by the way."

You blink and your eyes flick up to Ino's face, confused by his words, "Who?"

He flashes that friendly smile at you, "Nanami."

You're not sure if you should pretend not to know who Nanami is or if you should ask how Ino knows you're waiting on the man. For now, you swallow, "Nanami?"

Ino moves his hand up and over his head a bit, "He's like this tall, blonde," The brown-haired male gestures toward his eyes, "Wears these funky glasses sometimes?"

You bat your eyelashes at him in confusion, "Okay... Why uh, why're you telling me he'll be here soon?"

"You know him, don't you?" Ino asks, his thin and well-kept brows furrowing a bit as he innocently tilts his head.

"I know of him, I suppose," You answer vaguely, "But, why'd you think I know him?"

His shoulders raised a bit, "Cause' he asked me about you."

You swallow the sudden nervous lump in your throat, "H-He asked about me? Why? When?"

Ino chuckles at the worry in your face. To him, it just seemed like you were nervous in a shy sort of way, "He just asked me if you came here any other times. Like, times when he's not here."

"Why?" You ask.

"I dunno'," Ino shrugs casually, "I think you caught his attention." He adds on with a little wink.

Your lips pull into a straight line, "I highly doubt that."

"Why? You're pretty," Ino compliments yet again.

"Thanks but I've seen Nanami enough times to know that I have not caught his attention. Trust me, I know how men operate when their attention is caught." You scoff as you glance over to the dance floor and watch some of the people there.

Ino doesn't seem to understand what exactly you mean by that and his brows furrow, "You caught my attention, and yet this is my first time talking to you." He points out.

Almost naturally, as if you'd grown accustomed to flirting, your gaze trails back over to the cute bartender and you smirk, words slipping out of your mouth without thought, "I've caught your attention? How so?" You ask, unintentionally adding a sultriness to your tone.

He gulps and his eyes avoid yours yet again, "I mean you are an attractive woman. S-So I just mean it in that you catch more people's eye than you think. A-And uh, y'know, not everyone's gonna approach you first because sometimes attractive people make others nervous..." He stammers out.

He's so ridiculously nervous and it's the cutest thing. You lift your head from your hand and cross your arms over the counter, leaning forward a little and your chest unknowingly growing more visible as you do so, "Am I making you nervous right now, Ino?" You whisper.

Okay, now you're purposefully teasing him.

He chuckles, kinda awkwardly, "N-No? Pfft... I'm not nervous. Y-You-," He clears his throat, "You're not making me nervous."

You raise but a single brow and keep your gaze on him, "You can't even look me in the eyes while we talk."

Ino suddenly looks at you, meeting your unwavering gaze and sweating a bit. "I'm lookin' at you now."

You stare long and hard, right into those brow irises of his and he tries to stare back but, he can't help but glance to the left or right for a split second before trying to keep his eyes on yours.

A slow and taunting smile spreads across your features, "Barely." You point out.

He rolls his eyes and sighs, "Whatever. I wasn't nervous I'm jus' not good with eye contact."

You tilt your head at him and narrow your eyes, "That's not true."

"Eh?" Ino's brows push together, "How are you gonna' tell me..." He says with a pout.

You giggle, "You manage eye contact with everyone else just fine."

He moves for a nearby empty glass someone's placed down, and glances at you as he does so, "So you've been paying attention to me, then?"

Of course, your eyes have hardly left his. It's fun teasing someone like this, "A bit, yeah."

Ino moves with the empty glass to place it with other dirty ones, humming a little nervously, "Oh..." As he does so. Then, you watch him pick up a clean glass and move to make a new drink right in front of you.

"Is that okay?" You murmur. Your voice has this purposeful flirtiness to it and it does not go unnoticed, "Am I allowed to pay attention to you, Ino?"

He gulps, "Course' you can."

Your eyes drop to the glass in his hands as he pours alcohol into it and you smirk, "Ino..."

His gaze flicks to your face for a moment, "H-Hm?"

"You're shaking." You point out.

Ino nearly fumbles the glass in his hand entirely and you watch him miss the cup for a moment, a bit of the liquid he'd been pouring trickling onto his hand and then the floor, "Shit," He curses.

You chuckle slightly at first, earning a little pouty glare from the man.

Then as he goes to clean up you hear him mumbling to you, "That's not funny..."

Your chuckling proceeds to elevate into genuine laughter, "Yeah it is," You snicker, "You're adorable, holy fuck."

Ino's face is a little red as your words hit his ears and he drops down to clean the mess on the floor. After which, he pops right back into your line of vision, seeing you still laughing at him and pouting yet again.

"I am not 'adorable'," Ino grumbles.

You giggle, "Yes, you are."

He shakes his head and sighs in this sassy kinda way, "Am' not."

"Are too," You argue.

His eyes meet yours and despite being embarrassed, he's got a little smile back on his face, "Nuh-uh."

You nod, “Yuh-huh."

Ino then rolls his eyes, still smiling, before he puts all the items he had in his hands down to the side. You then watch one hand drop down into his pocket before his phone is pulled out. Ino unlocks the device and then places it in front of you, sliding it closer to you with an empty contact slot on the screen.

"Put your number in here," He sighs, smoothly requesting your contact info like it's nothing.

You raise a brow, "Are you asking for it or are you demanding it?"

Those almost innocent brown eyes of his trail over to yours and he holds eye contact for a longer moment, "I'm asking. I like talking to you so, can I get your number?"

"Hmmm..." You hum playfully, purposefully taking your time to answer, "Is this to be friends or something more?"

He's still looking you in the eyes, "Uh, friends? I'm not sure I could even handle a woman like you."

You raise a brow.

"I mean that in a good way," Ino clarifies.

You shrug and move to enter your number in his phone, "Thanks. I was only asking that 'cause I uh..."

He tilts his head and watches your fingers tap across his screen, "...Have a lot going on?"

"Something like that, yeah." You answer before you finish adding your info and then slide the phone back to him.

He picks up his cell and pockets it before shrugging, "I see, well, if this makes you feel any better, I always try to get people's numbers after a nice conversation with them."

You frown playfully, "Aw, so I'm not special?"

Again, he's flustered, "W-Well, I mean you are b-but I just-"

"Ino," You snicker, "I'm just teasing you, relax."

He rolls his eyes again and sighs, "You're driving me crazy."

For one last time, you tilt your head and give him this flirtatious look, "Am I?"

Ino looks at your expression and gulps, "Yes ma'am."

Okay, is it weird that a part of you wishes he was on the list too? Holy shit is teasing this man fun. Even so, you've got enough men to worry about in your life and you don't need to add to that.

You chuckle and your expression returns to something more platonic, "Alright, I'll stop then."

"Please," Ino begs quietly in a joking manner.

That makes you laugh again and this time, he laughs along with you. Then, you watch him go back to preparing that drink from earlier and he does it flawlessly this time, his nerves calmed after you stop all your teasing.

As the drink is finished, you sip on yours and then a pleasant smell slithers into your nose. It's cologne, a strong but ridiculously pleasant scent filling your nostrils. You blink a few times as you take in what you're smelling and for a second, you wonder if it's coming from Ino because he got kinda close as the drink he prepared was placed next to you.

Your question is answered within the next second though because you hear a voice that accompanies the scent. A deep, sexy, and soothing voice that makes your posture straighten due to how surprisingly close to you it is.

Nothing more than a simple, "Thank you," Was voiced but even so, it was extremely attractive.

Then, you curiously turn to where the voice came from, which was to your right, and you're met with your last target; Nanami Kento.

There he was, in the flesh, right next to you. Like, literally sitting in the barstool next to yours. And that drink Ino made? Yeah, it was his. Your eyes were all over the man, drinking in his features shamelessly.

The man seemed to be more muscular than you thought he was as the blue button-up shirt he wore clung to his body so delectably. The sleeves were rolled up near his elbows and you could see how muscular his arm was, veins decorating his skin as they became visible from his elbow and down.

The shirt was just hugging his body and you couldn't help but stare. Then, for a moment you look down at his pants. He wore these khakis that were just as fucking tight as his shirt and you swear you didn't mean to look at his crotch but because of the way he sat it was like your eyes were there before you even rendered it.

God, his pants hugged his thighs and you just drink in the way his hips push up slightly as he adjusts the way he sits. Holy fuck, you had to force your eyes up because you swore you could see his manhood, or at least imagine what he's hiding beneath those clothes of his.

So, your eyes went back up to areas more respectable to look at, such as his shirt, which you noticed he had enough buttons undone to reveal a teasing amount of his chest. His collarbone was so sharp and defined and you could only imagine the rest of his body.

Then, you trailed up just a bit more to his neck, then his jaw which was sharp as fuck, to his defined cheekbones, and then his eyes-

And shit.

He was already looking at you.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

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dradrianmilk · 1 year ago

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Great dreamling dynamic is dream sees hob for the reunion in 2021 and he just.. cant leave. Cant get himself to leave and wait another 100 years. Hob is so excited he even gets to have another meeting and he nearly dies for real when dream just kinda follows him upstairs at the end of the night like a stray cat! Hob is trying so incredibly hard to not make a big deal over it afraid of another 1889 even if his stranger seems so different now... they continue their meeting in hobs living room sitting next to one another on a small couch and dream brings his now socked feet up on the couch to hold his legs to his chest and hob bites his tongue so he doesnt tell this powerful supernatural force that he looks so fucking cute right now. Hob will extend this meeting as long as he can but hes ready to pass out hes so tired. Dream catches him yawning and instructs him to go to bed but hob is stalling trying anything to get his stranger to stay. Its ends up hob falls asleep despite his best efforts and wakes up in his own bed, bittersweet that he got to see his stranger again but accidentally cut their meeting short... he hopes dream will still come around for 2089 instead of now waiting until 2121. Dream is still on his couch. He turns to look at hob when he exits his room and gives a slow blink. Hob is so fucking confused but he rolls with it with a grin and prepares them a big breakfast and dream can feel the love and affection pouring out of the cup of tea alone. Its exactly like feeding a stray cat, because he keeps coming back.

The more affection hob gives dream the more often dream comes around. Hob is so glad this is the case because he has so many hugs to give and having dream as a regular fixture in his life now is one of the best things thats ever happened to him. Hes waiting at their table for hob to get home from work every day now and when hob kisses him for the first time dream cant stand to be apart from him for more than about 4 hours at a time before a near cataclysmic breakdown. Hob doesn’t get scared off, not in the slightest. He quite enjoys the obsessive focus in fact because his own all encompassing adoration for dream seems less creepy in comparison.

Coworker: uh hey whatcha got there??

Hob, holding hands with dream for the past 12 hours straight: a smoothie.

#dreamling #dream x hob #hob × dream #morpheus x hob #hob x morpheus #hob gadling #dream of the endless #doctors notes #text

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uranometrias · 6 months ago

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wait for your love, spencer reid (pt. 2)

this is the second part to this. tysm for all the love on the first part, as well as all the new follows. this literally took so long, and i'm literally so sorry. i suck, but i hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. xx

you can read the alternate version for jj right here.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader | spencer reid x bau! reader | s7 team x bau! reader (platonic)

summary: following the dismissal of the case against the bureau, you're trying to get back into the swing of things. that moment of realization that comes with discovering the love you feel for someone else isn't reciprocates is never fun. but it's a truth you're meant to accept nonetheless, with a bit of help from your dearest friend spencer, you find that through a conversation about the realities of music and their hidden messages getting the courage to move on is not quite as difficult as you might have initially thought. especially when there's someone like spencer reid waiting on the other side. except of course, things always get difficult when it seems now as you're moving on, the past object of your desires is believed to feel the same way you always have.

content warnings: this is the sequel to angst lol. it's still very kind of angsty, but not as bad! it doesn't exactly end with spence/reader running off into the distance together, but i think it has a very bittersweet & sort of hopeful ending, which i felt made the most sense for a storyline like this. sometimes people have feelings for people that don't like them back, and sometimes it's just something we have to deal with.. sad but true. && i didn't want spence to seem like a rebound for reader, so i tried to go the route of her slowly putting the pieces together that maybe spence had romantic feelings for her && going from there. still spencer somewhat confesses his feelings for reader, hints that hotch might actually like reader, jj/reader reconciliation, because it needed to happen soz! she might have feelings for y/n too idk... she's kinda pulling everybody. this feels kinda melodramatic, but also idk i want epic romance vibes so i tried my best xx

i also love how hotch was such a focal part of this story and never physically showed up once... hmm.

tagged the people that asked for part 2 xx

@stvrlitsky , @cocopuff213 , @aaronhotchnerlover , @ofagathachristies , @blurpleuni-squid , @wolf-phoenix-lover , @babyspiderling , @queermaxwooo , @jihyowrrld , @minkyungseokie , @silentjudger , @btskzfav , @barbeddreams , @ah-blossom , @darker-december

It had been about a week since the court proceedings, you'd been more than a little surprised to find that you all managed to walk away scot free. You still hadn't managed to work up the courage to place your resignation papers on Hotch's desk, probably because you still hadn't gotten up the strength to face him or anyone else for that matter. You weren't outwardly abrasive, you'd offer small nods of greeting when you showed up in the morning, waves as you left.

But everyone knew that it wasn't the same.

Penelope had been trying to get you out for a night of bonding with her, Emily, and JJ, and you'd been keen on turning her down. You don't think you were quite there yet, the wound however surface level was still fresh. Looking at Emily, only reminded you of your grief, how much you had missed her. Looking at JJ only reminded you of how she hadn't had the courage necessary to tell you the truth. You'd tried to take their positions into account, look at things through a different view, but it hardly worked. You just wanted to be left alone.

Spencer was still the only one privy to the thoughts you had about ending your career at the FBI, and everyday he seemed to be holding his breath. It had become a habit to catch him staring at you with his face pinched up like he was deep in thought. It was partially why, even as your eyes skimmed over a file, you knew that he was looking in your direction. "Spence." you mutter quietly, eyes not quite meeting his as you highlighted something of importance in blue.

He sits at attention, back straight, eyes wide. He looked like a puppy that'd been caught doing something bad and was waiting for punishment. "You're doing it again." you exhale, and then you finally manage to peel your eyes from your work, eyebrow raising as you take him in tiredly. "Do you need something?" and he bares down on his bottom lip, almost as if he was thinking over his next move. He stands tall, grabbing hold of his chair and tugging it until it was planted on the other side of yours, before he sat down politely.

"Are you okay?" he's talking quietly, likely to salvage a bit of your privacy. You'd become a bit of a walking attraction in the bullpen, everyone seemed to follow every one of your actions with their eyes. You tap your highlighter against your desk, head tipping to the side as you scrutinize the man. You didn't know exactly what was going on with Spencer, but you had a small inkling, it was nothing more than an internal feeling if you were completely honest about it.

Your sister had been asking about him quite constantly lately, and after learning that day in the courtroom that for some odd reason the duo spoke over the phone, it made you pay a bit more attention to the certified genius than before. "I'm fine, Spencer. Just like I was when you asked me yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that." you keep your tone light, not wanting him to think that you were by any means annoyed with him. "What's going on?"

"I guess I keep waiting for you to disappear." he admits, head nodding involuntarily. "You're here right now, and you look fine." he continues, and you like listening to him, even if he was breaking one of the rules, and choosing to profile you. "So shouldn't things feel different? Better at least, like before?" he asks, and you don't expect that. Maybe he wasn't profiling you at all, and instead was expressing himself to a friend. "At least a little bit?" he asks, and you think it over.

"I don't think it'll ever be like before, Spence." and you hate to be the Betty Buzzkill, but it's as true as you can be. "How can it?" and Spencer's eyes jump across the room, landing on Emily who was not so subtly watching the two of you speak. You follow his gaze, and blink harshly when Emily's eyes connect with your own. It forces you to look right back at Spencer. He looks pensive, and you wonder how long he's been working up the courage to say more than 'Are you alright?'

"She was dead... and now suddenly she's not. That's great, but I grieved my friend, and maybe I'm not done grieving the Emily I knew before." and it's the first time you're admitting this aloud. "Our Emily, not the- Interpol Superspy." and you huff. "And look, I know I should be grateful, how many people get back the people they love after death?" and Spencer doesn't answer. "But is she really back? Is she really still our Emily? And how long before she's ready to pack up her stuff and take off? I'm not opening myself up to that again."

Spencer thinks your point is valid, he at one point had insisted that he had the worse abandonment issues on the team, but you had been right there through most of it. You were, in your own way protecting yourself from being hurt again. He couldn't fault you for that, none of them should. "I understand." and truthfully he does, and he's glad that at least you trust him enough to be upfront about it. "There's nothing wrong with shielding yourself from heartache, I just don't want you to close off completely... not from all of us."

You falter, and Spencer hates that he can't just say that he doesn't want you to close off from him. He didn't want this situation to change the way you behaved with him, he couldn't handle losing you.

"I won't." you promise. "And I won't do anything to jeopardize what we do here, I've got enough self control to be civil." you add with a small smile. "I haven't quite decided what a future at the bureau will look like, but I am willing to give things here a chance to get better." and you do love your work, Profiling was something you enjoyed doing, you wouldn't toss it away, unless you absolutely had no other choice. "So you don't have to worry about losing me, Spence." and you hold your breath, mostly because it's a bit audacious on your part.

He offers you a half smile, and you notice the way he visibly relaxes. Still, he doesn't want you to feel obligated to stay somewhere just for his sake, so he feels the need to be honest with you. "I'm not worried." he promises you, and it's a tiny fib, one that could become true if he grew just a touch more confidence. "Even if you did decide to leave one day I would put in the work to keep you in my life." and his smile stretches across his face now, and reaches his eyes. "You're not someone anyone would want to lose." your stomach twists.

"You're not either, Spencer." and you say it firmly, mainly to show just how much you need him to believe it. "I'd just make it my job to take up all your free time outside of work." and his face feels incessantly warm, like he'd stuck his head directly in the stream of scalding shower water. The funny thing about you was that you were oftentimes one of the hardest on the team to read. He figured that because he spent so much time hyper focused on you that he'd get better at it. He still hadn't, and you still managed to leave him stuck.

Comments like the one you just made were common for you, but the meaning behind it always escaped him. Were you flirting with him or were you just being nice? Was it possible that you knew that he had feelings for you? Were you using him as a rebound after the mess you'd found yourself entangled into with Hotch just months ago? The thought of him merely being an emotional rebound made him sad, disappointed, and insecure. But then he's taking in your expression, how despite your confidence you still look shy, and reels it in.

You had never been that sort of person, maybe you were just as oblivious as he was. "I'd be okay with that now." and you look a bit surprised, but also pleased. You nod your head slightly, leaning forward just a little in your seat. Spencer isn't sure if he's moved too quickly, but he's got no room to second guess it now.

"We should do something." it's not at all what he'd expected you to say, and he's surprised, it's more than evident on his face.

"Who? Us? Just the two of us?" he asks, and you find yourself offering him an amused sort of glance.

"Yeah, it could be fun." you insist, and you're not trying to play with his feelings, at least not in the traditional sense. Spencer Reid was no rebound. "It's not often we have days off, you know?" and you lean against your palm, head tipping slightly to the side. "Only if you want." you add, hoping that this addition would make him feel a touch more comfortable. It seems to work, because he untenses just a bit.

"Y-Yeah." he nods his head slightly, hair moving with the action just slightly. "Yeah, we should definitely do something." he agrees, and your smile is bright, clearly pleased at the turn of events. "When would you?" his eyes jump to his watch, and he shakes his head. "Obviously, not right now." he says and you're staring at him a bit bemused, because Spencer Reid was nothing if not a bit unserious.

"There's this music store I've been dying to check out." you say, and you witness Spencer's eyes seem to brighten. "It's sort of right on the strip, if you don't mind going with me to look at some vinyls and cd's for my collection, we could just go-" and you're eyebrows are raised, "And see what happens? There's a lot you could do..." you finish, and Spencer's already nodding his head in agreement.

"T-That's..." and he clears his throat, you think to keep you from acknowledging the fact his voice cracked in his nervousness. "Yeah, I don't mind that at all." he agrees politely. "Did you know that in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, record stores only sold gramophone records, but over time they've sold other formats like eight-track tapes, compact cassettes, and compact discs." his hands curl into one another as he relays this message and you snort.

"Did you know that there's a national record store day? It started back in 2008." and he's a bit surprised that you're shooting him a fact of your own, and one that he wasn't actually aware of.

"Really?" he questions, and your eyes sort of crinkle, smile broadening enough to show off both rows of your teeth.

"Don't tell me that I know something the brilliant Doctor Reid doesn't." you tease, and his eyes roll, though his entire demeanor remains lighthearted. "So, what's your poison?" you sidestep, but just barely, your work ignored as you focus all your efforts on keeping this conversation with Reid going.

"My poison?" and his mind of course drifts to alcohol, a bit of a confusing pivot in the conversation. "I don't really see myself as much of a drinker." he admits truthfully, and he's confused when you're laughing, hand flying up to cover your mouth as his face contorts.

"I meant your favorite music genre." you correct. "And I know you're partial to classical," and you try not to stretch your eyes. "It's great when I need to concentrate, but I wouldn't exactly say I'm dying to put on Bach and Tchaikovsky in a regular setting." you explain, both hands resting against your cheeks as you await the hopefully longwinded answer he'd have to give you.

"What if that's my only answer?" he asks, and you scoff.

"It's not." you deadpan, and he exhales through his nose. "I know you and Morgan have that understanding about music..." you explain, head cocked to the side. "He got you to listen to Nas." you remind him as he purses his lips at the reminder. "And Garcia's always sending music recommendations." you proceed as Spencer shoots you a look that clearly reads 'What's your point?'.

"Are you really telling me that out of every genre of music that's ever been released to the entire world, the only genre that's ever stood out to you is the one where old men sit behind a piano and twinkle the keys to their hearts content?" Spencer's releasing another one of those quiet laughs, this one is clearly full of exasperation though.

"I think they're doing a little bit more than twinkling keys." he corrects you, and you know that. You'd only said it to get under his skin just a little, he was fun to mess with. "Classical music is one of the only genres that seemingly does so little and is able to express the full spectrum of human emotion and life experience." he explains, and you fight your smile, leaning in just a bit more to show you were focused. You weren't sure what was happening or if anything was really happening at all, and it was all in your mind.

But you were finding that you didn't mind just listening to Spencer go on and on about whatever he wanted. You thought a lot about what had happened outside of that court room, how he'd listened to you. Really listened to you, and had never once made you feel like the emotional failure you'd imagined yourself to be. You couldn't say that in the span of a week all of your feelings for Hotch had vanished. That'd be bullshit, because deep down you knew it wasn't that easy.

And sometimes you wished it could be, sometimes you wondered why you had to fall for Hotch when Spencer was right there.

Still, whether or not you were being forced to come to grips with the fact that Hotch was not, and wouldn't ever love you the way you loved him, you couldn't deny that it was nice to have a friend there. Spencer wasn't coming to you with heavy confessions and tear-streaked cheeks begging you to look and see that he was perfect for you, which is why you think you like him even more. You knew a lot of times it was hard, rare even to find someone who would just care for you without expecting anything in return. That was Spence to a T.

"Go on." you instruct, and you find that despite the way you'd baited him into this conversation, it was well worth it. He didn't get a lot of time to just be Spencer, and with no clock over your heads, no rush for time to solve a case, you figured it was the least you could do. Especially after he'd spent the last week trying to show you how much he cared.

"I just mean that in classical music, it's actually very common to have one piece of music encompass an entire host of emotions, experiences, and subject matter." he expresses, and you hum, nodding along. "And it's all because most classical pieces use a similar formula that uses textures, dynamic colors and key modulations to express things certain words can't properly articulate." he proceeds. "That's why certain sounds and notes manage to adduce certain reactions." he seems finished.

"Oh, yeah?" you press and he nods limply, seemingly awaiting the moment you offer some jab regarding his oversharing. "I guess Mozart and Beethoven were really onto something." you mutter, and he snorts. "Still, I'd much rather listen to something a bit more obvious." you admit, not that you had a real problem with Classical Music.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I'm just saying... music's always sort of been the perfect tool for expressing everything you might need to say." you counter. "And while I agree that music in any form does a great job of invoking certain emotions, sometimes you don't want to guess what someone means." you admit, and it's partially (mostly) because you had never been good at reading in between the lines. Things always made the most sense when they were plainly spelled out.

"Or maybe that's just a me thing." you correct. "I've found that I always enjoy things when they're a little more laid out... there's no way to misunderstand when it's spelled out for you, right?" you ask and Spencer's lips curve down into a slight frown. He's not pitying you, mostly just sympathizing with how torn up you must have been about everything. Especially as your eyes instinctively are drawn to the shut doorway of Hotch's office. Spencer thinks that's when reality sets back in and hits him like a brick.

Because he knew something that you didn't. Something that would probably make everything better for you, but would undoubtedly double his heartache. In truth, he, much like everyone else on the team tried their hardest to ignore just how obvious you'd been about your feelings for hotch. spencer more than anyone.

He remembered how things had changed a few months back, how you'd started to move on all for the rug to be pulled from up under your feet. It had been outwardly cruel, undoubtedly. because while everyone else on the team seemed to be just fine with 'don't ask, don't tell', Spencer had been unable to not pay attention to the way Hotch had actually changed too. Did he hate him? Absolutely not... and he knew you didn't either, because despite how idiotic the plan was, he hadn't done much besides give you more attention.

And Spencer guessed the act of giving you more attention had unsurprisingly ended with Aaron Hotchner realizing it was something he actually enjoyed. Hence the sudden change their boss underwent.

He supposed that was the worst part about it all, the fact that everyone had the right to tell you that "nothing had happened", and there was nothing you could do about it. Because in the grand scheme of things nothing really had happened. Hotch was no heartless womanizer, Spencer couldn't even imagine the man flirting with anyone, let alone stringing someone along for kicks. Still, that didn't change the fact that you'd gotten your hopes up, and now you were back to your own harsh reality.

Not because it wasn't a real possibility, more so because Hotch was self destructive, and sabotaged himself and his happiness at every turn. Spencer wants to stay quiet, to bask in the fact that you were slowly on your own terms getting over Hotch, and paying more attention to him, but he can't do that. He'd hate it if someone did it to him. So instead he decides to throw you a bone, push you in the right direction. "Why haven't you just talked to him?" it's not what he had meant to say. He had meant to play the role of the supportive friend.

He'd wanted to pat you on the back, mumble some agreeance that would validate how you were feeling, and possibly give him cool points. Instead, here he was about to push you in the direction of someone else. He supposed that's how stupid love made you.

"What?" you exclaim, and Spencer doesn't know what's so exasperating about his question. It was obvious that you needed to, it wasn't fair that you were slowly deteriorating on the inside whilst trying to maintain some semblance of being a "team player". He said 'screw the team' if it wasn't genuine. And clearly, from the way you'd still been icing out JJ and Emily, it wasn't. Not fully anyway. He'd never rush you to get over it, mostly because it'd make him a hypocrite. He still cringes at the thought of the tears he'd shed to JJ.

But, that was his own problem.

"Hotch." he lowers his voice a little, because it's just now hitting him that the two of you have been slacking off for a while now. Emily wasn't exactly focused in on the both of you anymore, but every so often, he'd find that she still look up every few moments. JJ, Derek, and Rossi had made a habit of leaving their respective offices, eyes glued to what was apparently becoming unit news. "You should talk to him." he says simply as your eyes cross dramatically.

"What's there to talk about?" you ask suddenly distracted by a smudge on the corner of your desk.

"What happened." he says simply. "I mean, don't you think there might be some explanation you might be missing?" Spencer tries, and you curl into yourself just a little bit.

"It's still work hours and he's still Hotch." you deny, and Spencer's lips push to the side, an obvious sign of his slight discomfort about what he was going to say next. "He's not going to want to talk about it." you admit. "And what exactly do you say in a conversation like that? Oh by the way boss, I was in love with you, and it kinda felt like maybe you felt the same, except oh wait, it was just a ploy to keep me from realizing you were lying about Emily being alive?" you say sarcastically. Spencer huffs in retaliation.

"Yes actually, you could say exactly that. Maybe you'll learn something you didn't know before." he deadpans, and your nose curls. You cut your eyes over at the man, who's not amused.

"I kinda thought you'd be the last person pushing for this sort of confrontation, you know?' you admit before you can really help yourself. You watch as Spencer's face seems to set into one of surprise, his cheeks and neck slowly gaining a red sort of tint to them.

"What do you mean?" he questions, and your mouth parts just slightly. And you think the same way he's been gentle with you is the exact same way you need to be gentle with him, so you pivot, head shaking from side to side.

"Nothing." you say firmly. "Forget about it." you say quietly, and then you're looking back at your paperwork. Spencer, embarrassed finds himself fiddling with his fingers, trying to scold his heartbeat back into submission. It suddenly felt way too cramped sitting at your desk.

"You should go after work." he says, and your eyes snap back to him. "Talk to Hotch after work, I mean." he says and your stomach feels a bit tight. "I think it'll be best." he proceeds, and you frown.

"You do?" you question, and you try not to sound despondent.

"Y-Yeah, I do." he agrees despite his stutter. "Things like this don't go away on their own, you know?" and you chew on the inside of your lip, and feel that gloom cloud from earlier making its way back.

"I thought we were supposed to be hanging out today, Spencer." you start and he blinks owlishly, long lashes nearly caressing the tops of his cheekbones.

"We could always raincheck." he says, and you stare at him just a bit blankly. "It's not like it was a date or anything. They were just plans..." he adds, and your teeth chomp down on your bottom lip. He doesn't really know how to read the look on your face, but he knows that he feels like he's being noble.

"Just plans." you shrug your shoulders dismissively. "Right." and then you pick up your pen. "Well if that's what you want, I guess it's fine by me." you add, body curling into itself as you position yourself away from him.

"Isn't that what you want?" he questions, and you cut your eyes.

"Do you think I'd be sitting here if it was?" you keep your voice level, but your leg is bouncing. You're not quite sure why, maybe because Spencer was being Spencer. You supposed your comment that made it clear that you knew that he had feelings for you had scared him. Now, he was trying to protect himself, but you weren't so hungry for a relationship that you'd string him along for the sole purpose of getting over Hotch. You would've made this call had you figured it out or not, and you supposed the fact he didn't get that was what sucked. "I'm not that pathetic." you add with a quiet scoff.

"It's not about you being pathetic." he denies. "I don't think that about you., I just know that you're in a vulnerable place. You had real feelings for him, and I think it'd be best for you to get it all off your chest correctly, before you start projecting all those leftover feelings to the first person you can." and he doesn't mean it in the way it sounds. In fact the statistics about rebounds would sound a lot worse, but as usual, he's horrible at communicating exactly what he feels.

You blink. Once, twice, three times.

"I can't believe you just said that to me." you say, and you're abruptly standing up, mostly because you're about to cry like the fucking baby you were. Spencer's certain this is a new record for how quickly things could go left just because he couldn't shut the hell up. What he'd been trying to convey was that after a rejection, it was much easier to mistake platonic feelings for romantic ones. He had been a consistent shoulder for you to lean on since everything went south.

He didn't want you to think that he was being nice to you only because he had feelings for you, and convince yourself that you felt the same all because you refused to fully shut the door with Hotch. But he'd never actually meant to make it seem like you'd be so desperate, and especially not with him. "Y/N, wait. That's not what I meant-" except you're already leaving, taking in the shaky breath that told him he'd stupidly made you cry.

"L/N?" Emily's calling as you pass her, but you don't respond to her either. Instead you're rushing off in the direction of the bathroom, likely to calm yourself down. Emily's eyes are immediately snapping over to Spencer, and her eyebrows are furrowed. He instinctively looks away, internally cursing himself out.

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"Y/N/N?" you're surprised to hear JJ entering the bathroom, and you're hurriedly moving to splash at your face with water to keep it from looking so puffy. Still, JJ was as perceptive as she was pushy, so it's clear she's already put it together that you're crying. "Hey, is everything alright?" she takes on that motherly tone she uses with Henry, and the rest of the team when they're feeling down.

"I'm fine." you insist, and she doesn't look convinced. She takes a tentative step towards you, standing beside the sink you were occupying. "Seriously JJ, please just leave me alone." you partially beg.

"I know you're upset with me, but you're still my friend." she reminds you. "I'm not going to leave you in here when it's clear you're upset." she exclaims. "So you can talk to me or not, but I'm not going anywhere." she deadpans, and you sniffle, rubbing harshly at your cheeks. They're sensitive to the action, blood rushing to your face.

"You're so annoying." you mumble, but there's no bite. It makes JJ snicker, and it's a step in the right direction you're sure.

"It's my job." she retorts with a shrug, and she leans her back against the sink beside you, legs crossing slightly. "Is everything okay?" she tries again, much more gently as you frown. No, everything was not okay. You hadn't actually expected to be sitting here crying over Spencer's remark, but you supposed that the fact he believed you'd ever use him as a rebound had kind of hurt. You supposed it also didn't help that he'd so callously canceled your plans.

You'd actually started to look forward to hanging out with him.

"Do you think I'm desperate?" you question haughtily, and JJ's eyes widen, surprise overtaking her features as she turns to you fully.

"Of course not." she denies firmly, blonde ponytail bobbing with all her intense animation. "What would make you think that?" she pries, and you cut your eyes just slightly.

"You guys could have trusted me with the truth." you counter, and she falls silent. "And even if you couldn't there were so many other ways to keep me from finding out about Emily. Ways that didn't involve making me look like an idiot to the rest of the team." you mumble crossly, and you blink enough that you feel like your lashes are crumpling into your cornea. it forces you to drag a hand over them roughly, rubbing harshly at your eyes until the sensation left.

"That wasn't what we were trying to do." JJ tries, and it doesn't really matter what exactly she was trying to do. What mattered was what had happened. "You know that." she adds, and you think she's trying to appeal to the part of you that knew the type of people she and Hotch were. The ones that had proven their loyalty to the team for years and years. "Is this about Hotch?" she says and you wince because the problem wasn't that simple.

And you didn't understand why everyone seemed to think so.

You weren't some girl that couldn't handle rejection, what bothered you the most was that Hotch and JJ had felt like they couldn't trust you, and it bothered you that Hotch had felt like he had to play along to some stupid fantasy to ensure you'd play your role. And it especially bothered you that you'd mourned your friend Emily and everything you thought you knew about her, and all anyone could focus on was the fact that you liked Hotch and he didn't like you back. As if your entire world stopped all because of it.

"No, it's not about Hotch." you deadpan. "I wish you guys would just stop being so casual about it." you add on as JJ's mouth parts.

"Y/N... it's not really something that you'd ever really been subtle about. Everyone knows." and she's still trying to be gentle, despite the fact that the words still managed to slice at you.

"So that makes what you guys did, okay?" you shoot back. "Is that really the hill you want to die on?" and you're growing crosser. "This isn't about not being liked back by a guy, this is about me believing that the people I spend most of my days with have my back. How are we supposed to be a team when I can't trust you?" you press. "Because you never would have done that to Spence." you add, and JJ blinks, mostly because she doesn't know how to counter that.

"You didn't have to do it to Derek or Rossi or Penelope either." you remind her. "So what was it about me, about this that made your only course of action rubbing salt in a wound that I was doing a damn good job of healing all on my own?"

"I-I don't know." she admits, and you suppose it was an answer.

"Yeah, well I don't know if I have the patience to wait around for you all to figure that out." you mumble.

"What are you saying?" and JJ's blinking a bit more, eyes misty but not quite showing any signs of shed tears.

"I'm saying that before I didn't know if I wanted to stay here anymore. I love my job, but I don't love how it makes me feel now." you say plainly. "When Elle got like that and ignored her gut it got someone shot." you say, and it sounds melodramatic, but it doesn't feel that way at all. JJ gasps, though it's faint. "I just don't want to wait around for that to happen to me." and you inhale sharply, shuddered breath wracking through you as JJ stares at you clearly gobsmacked.

"But-" and she can't quite grasp the words. "You can't just leave." she exclaims, and it sounds like she's pleading. "Look-" and she's starting to sound just a little desperate. "Look we never wanted to hurt you, okay? And-and none of us..." and she stops to make sure she's staring you directly in your eyes. "None of us want to lose you, Y/N." she insists. "I-" and she's shaking her head again. "Please don't do this." and she sounds the same way Spencer did when he said it. Your nose twitches, "We just got the team back together." she mutters.

"JJ, that's not fair." you huff at her, and she's not really trying to be fair. She just doesn't want you to leave.

"I'm so sorry that we hurt you." and while most apologies that start that way are usually rife with deceit, JJ sounds more sincere than she probably ever has before. "And I'm sorry if it feels a little flat, especially with you already having a foot out the door." she sighs, "It wasn't okay, but-but I know how Hotch feels about you. How the entire team feels about you." she reiterates. "We can't do this without you, we can't." she emphasizes sternly. "And maybe that's selfish to bring up, but we all care so much about you." she promises.

You want to cut her off, but she doesn't give you the chance.

Classic JJ.

"Do whatever you need to! Take as much time away as you need, hate us forever if you have to, but please don't- don't walk away from what you do here." she exhales shakily. "And-and for the record, whether it helps or not... we didn't sit around discussing your... feelings for Hotch." she tells you quietly. "It wasn't some master plan that we composed, and-and I don't know... it couldn't have all been fake." she whispers, and you wonder why she's changing her tune, because just last week she was telling you that 'it wasn't real'

"JJ-" you finally manage and she's shaking her head.

"I'm serious." she insists, and your nose crinkles up again.

"Stop." you deadpan. "You're being really mean." you huff, and you begin to click at your nails just slightly. JJ thinks you're a little bit exasperating. Too stubborn for your own good, but she wont push.

"Could you just listen for one second?" she exclaims, and you're pouting as she grows more overwhelmed at it all. "I wouldn't lie to you about this." she insists, and you wonder why she, and Spencer have taken this sort of stance with you. It should make you hopeful, right? Oh, there was some chance that Hotch felt the same way as you. Except you can't be happy about it, because he's not the one that was sitting here telling you this. It was JJ.

What had you told Spencer earlier? 'There's no way to misunderstand when it's spelled out for you, right', and emotionally exhausted or not, you meant it. Which meant you refused to do the work for him. If he couldn't say it, if he couldn't admit it, than it was as if it wasn't true at all. Which is why you exhale, blinking away whatever bleariness tried to keep itself latched to your eyes. "I love you for trying so hard, but I'd rather you didn't." you instruct sternly.

JJ inhales deeply, audibly expelling the breath from her nose. "That's what you're missing, Y/N." she begins, and she reaches out, hand cupping your shoulder. "I'm not trying to do anything. Everything I've said today I meant. You're important, and you're a lot to lose." she admits. "If you're going to leave, leave because you hate the job, do it because you don't feel fulfilled any longer. But don't let this be what makes you throw in the towel, Y/N." she says and you huff again.

You were doing a lot of that today. "We'll make up for it." she begins, and then she sighs. "I'll make up for it, however long it takes." and you think her pivot from sharing the blame to taking it all for herself makes you feel a little less like you were being ganged up on. She was no longer the spokesperson for everyone involved, and was back to just being JJ, your friend JJ. "Please?" she tries again, and it's not like her to beg, which tells you all you need to know about how serious she was.

"We should get back to work." you mumble, and it's not quite the answer she's expecting, but at the very least it was a promise that you both still had until the end of the day at the very least. She doesn't have the strength to fight her smile, arms looping around you in a move that's much too invasive for your still sour mood, but you don't slight her for it. You instead let her hug you, because obviously it meant a lot more to her than you knew. She'd missed you.

"Alright, alright. That's enough." you tease, moving to lightly push the blonde off of you as she exhales.

"Can you blame me? I thought you were gonna hate me forever." she admits honestly, and you crinkle your nose.

"Guess I'm softer than I thought." you reply, and she waves you off at the remark. Still, despite this slight turn in the direction of your relationship with JJ, you still couldn't feel all that settled. But, you know hiding out in the restroom was by no means the best choice. So when JJ moves to leave, you tail her, surprised when on the other side is a nearly pacing Reid.

"Spence?" JJ exclaims in surprise, the tawny haired man turns to you both. He's immediately looking past JJ to take you in. JJ follows hos gaze and whistles under her breath, deciding that her job was done. She offers you a hopeful sort of look before she continues on towards her desk, leaving you and Spencer mostly alone.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and you're subjectively alright, for the moment. You're better than you were, but not as good as you could be. You're not anywhere near where or who you were before, but you suppose after what the team endured there wasn't much that could be done about that last bit. "I'm so sorry." he's exclaiming, and of course, he means it. He always means it. "I didn't mean to-" and he doesn't really know how to articulate all his thoughts correctly.

He's good with words, knows facts and statistics and data, knows what runs through his mind when he thinks about you, and knows what he wants to say. It's when he opens his mouth that things go awry, because despite all his grand attempts, he always manages to screw up when it came to expressing the emotional side of things. His pep talks sometimes fell flat, and a lot of times he missed the mark when it came to cheering someone up. But, he'd never wanted to be a person who hurt you, so he needed to fix it.

Even if it ruined everything forever.

"I wasn't trying to insinuate that you'd-" and he motions between the both of you. "I don't think that you see me as a rebound." he finally vocalizes. "That would mean you'd have to see me in a potentially romantic way." Spencer's voice is as steady as it often was when he was giving a geographical profile or helping to relay some form of fact or evidence during a case. Which said a lot about his intentions, and how serious he was about you not misunderstanding him.

"I was merely trying to note that a lot of times in circumstances where we're faced rejection from someone we hold to a high regard, it's really easy to misinterpret our own feelings and latch onto people before we really mean to." he expresses, and your chewing on the inside of your cheek, albeit subtly. "For example, because you've established me as someone who you can trust during this time, it'd be really easy for you to misinterpret what you think you feel for me." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inwardly.

"How could I possibly do that? They're my own feelings." you retort.

"Because, the first thing people do after a breakup, is they seek validation, or a new way to boost their esteem and self worth." he doesn't quite lecture, but it's clear he's intent on your knowing all of this. "And that doesn't necessarily mean that you're vying for me as a potential person to bounce back with, but a lot of times when you don't process the end of a previous emotional bond, your view of the entire new dynamic can be warped." he proceeds, and you're still not really understanding his point, instead you're feeling more silly.

"What are you saying, Spencer?" you question quietly.

"All I'm trying to explain is that I don't want you to tell me that you want to go out and listen to me promenade facts unless it's what you really want to do." he says, "I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to play along, because you think we're in the same boat... where we- we love someone that we can't have?" he presses, and he winces once it's out, you think you may have started holding your breath. "Does that make sense to you?"

You nod your head limply, and you take in his words. You find that your little hunch about your dear Spencer was correct. You also note that it doesn't quite scare you the way you'd initially believed it would. "Spence, I wouldn't do that to you." you remind him, and he nods too.

"I know that." he promises. "At least not consciously, but our minds can play tricks on us. You could think that this is what's best, moving on... forgetting about- about everything that happened." he presses, and your lips form into a thin line. "And then wake up in three weeks and remember why you fell in love with Hotch to begin with."

"Or-" and his eyes widen.

"Or?"

"Or...I could choose to stop waiting around for someone to not be afraid to love me." you counter. "I could- I could choose to hang out with my friend, Spencer and be okay with whatever happens after that. I could- We could do that. And it could be okay." you purse your lips. "Because, it's what I want to do. Nobody's entitled to my feelings but me, and you know what that means, Spencer? It means that if you think that you might love me, you need to be okay with that." he looks a bit startled that you're saying it so bluntly, but stays quiet.

"And you need to know that sometimes your statistics are gonna be wrong, and sometimes the guy that's too scared to admit how they feel doesn't get the girl." it's a shock, you can't say that you've fallen out of love in a day, you can't say that you've fallen in love in a day. But you do know that Spencer Reid managed to invoke a hope inside of you that you hadn't managed to feel in a long time. He made you girlishly giddy, and you liked talking to him, you liked listening to him, you liked the way it felt when you'd made plans together.

And maybe there was no such thing as a happily ever after where everyone gets who they want, maybe in three weeks you would wake up and find that you and Spencer were better off as friends, but you weren't going to hold up your life in the hopes that maybe someday Aaron Hotchner would wake up and decide he was finally ready to love you out loud. Not when there was a chance to take your own life, your own emotions by the balls and do with them what you wanted.

"He doesn't?" Spencer asks, and you're not quite sure you can place what emotions are resting on his face and in his eyes.

"We can find out." you offer, and it's not some heady and heavy declaration of unyielding devotion, but wasn't that sort of how every relationship started? With some decision to take a chance. Maybe, you didn't really know. "There's this music store I've been dying to check out." you say, and for the second time that day Spencer seems to brighten right in front of your eyes. "It's sort of right on the strip, if you don't mind going with me... there's a lot we could do…" and the small change is almost everything. It's scary, causes a pit in your gut.

Still, it's a nicer feeling than uncertainty and the hollowness left behind by idleness. "Are you in?" you ask, and Spencer is already nodding his head, smile reaching his eyes as his pretty teeth reveal themselves to you, eyes twinkling in a way that's very very beautiful.

"Yes." he agrees with a simple nod. "I would-" and you think it's cute the way his smile refuses to leave, and sweet the way he's suddenly grown nervous all over again. "I'd like that-" and his voice cracks, and earns him a laugh, your own demeanor seeming to change as your excitement starts to brew in the depths of your chest.

"Good." you beam.

"Good." he repeats, and there's a small moment, a flicker where you're certain you both look nervous, frightful of what came next. But it only lasts a second, because you're both suddenly being called by Derek, a resounding 'Pretty Boy, Pretty Girl' forcing you out of your bubble and back into the fray. With another shared smile you find yourselves in step, making your way back towards the heart of the bullpen where the rest of the team is huddled. It's rare when work is so light, but you know as well as everyone else, you'll all take advantage of it.

When Penelope smiles at you, you smile back, and it's real.

When JJ plants herself on top of your desk, the two of you actually laugh, spilling secrets and trading gossip like nothing's ever changed.

When Rossi calls you Piccola, you relax even more into the familiarity of being surrounded by your teammates.

When Derek slings an arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss to the top of your head, you remember why you loved your job.

When Emily calls your name and waves you and JJ over to the group, you oblige, meeting Emily's eyes with no mirth left behind. When she calls you by your nickname, you feel that familiar swarm of familial adoration filling your chest, and recognize that things with her would be okay. You find that in the grand scheme she is still your Emily.

When you find yourself standing next to your boss, his usually stern and stoic persona shed in the presence of the team he considered family, you hardly bat an eye. When he smiles at a joke you make, you're pleased, but the anxiety, the panic that tormented you is all gone. The butterflies are too, replaced with the respect you remember.

And when you find yourself looking across the circle and meet the pretty brown eyes of one Spencer Reid, you feel it when your heart tremors, just a little bit.

And you think, in the end, you made the right decision.

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harmonysanreads · 8 months ago

Note

I'm not sure if requests are still open since it's early in the morning where I'm from and idk how our timezones work, please delete this if it isn't orz. If it isn't too much trouble, a dainsleif fic mayhaps 🙏😔? I miss him so much and he didn't come home this patch, can be a short drabble ^^.

Not sure if it's leaning on your "things in consideration" list, but the prompt can be:

You've been under his radar for years but now that he's tracked you down, an unknown child who mirrors his blue Khaenriahn eyes guards you with his small and very fragile life. Those eyes... They're eerily familiar.

(side note: Dain isn't the type who thinks children automatically have a heart of gold lolol. He's kinda a hater when it comes to children cept for Yaoyao /jjjj, maybe that's some extra spice to add for the reason why reader is so terrified and left as soon as she had the opportunity?)

Reconteur

yandere!dainsleif x reader

cw(s) : yandere, implied female reader (the narrative is not gender specific but the word 'mother' has been used once)

wc : 1.7 k

this was an interesting challenge for me because this is one theme i've not done before, with a character i've also never written for! i'm extremely sorry for the wait as i got distracted by hsr :') and thank you so much for requesting<3

a delightful illustration by the loveliest person <3 (spoiler alert!)

Stories are truly spectacular.

They're capable of preserving bygone memories ; changing, adapting and sometimes, becoming far too distant from reality. Like saplings of the tree which extends its roots throughout Teyvat and, their seeds are welcomed by the flighty wind, soon to be cultivated by the torrents of time. The present will one day become history and that history will be archived for posterity to learn and criticize. One such story inspires much intrigue, dressed in charming rhetoric and is thus cataloged among fairy tales : a bittersweet tale of a Knight and an Angel.

And in classic format it goes — once upon a time, a defiled Knight cried out to the heavens, for he could not win against the temptation of seeing the forbidden pearl. This blatant defiance earned him but a curse of eternal agony and soon, he begged the skies for salvation. The clouds softened and sent him a little Angel, who quelled the fires of his pain bit by bit, until it became an infinitesimal dot in the Knight's soul. Brimming with gratitude, the Knight offered his very being to the Angel's service and of course, they lived happily ever after.

Now suppose, fundamentally speaking, if fairy tales are but stories and the retelling of history follows the same pattern — who are the storytellers?

The victors, of course.

The dull thud of pages colliding shut assuages Dainsleif, for the story which now finds itself beside children's bedside tables serves no other purpose than to instigate dulcet fantasies, losing credence before the trials of history. It brews a litany of feelings in his numbed heart until they intertwine and transform into a yarn of befuddling human emotions ; echoing in his ears that this is what his past has become.

Albeit, this hardly astonishes the Bough Keeper. When a war ends and the winners hoist their flags, they'd obviously be privy to recounting their glories — none of them would ever write that the Knight in the story had never begged the heavens for forgiveness and no such Angel was sent. Instead, he'd seen fit to snatch the Messenger that'd implored him to return to his right mind and one would think that Celestia had taken great offense in this act, but no one batted an eye.

That is because the Messenger, too, was forsaken by their home, a fallen angel with no wings and no divinity left. Whose existence became synonymous to that of a firefly and the Knight, became the darkness that allowed it to glow. When two broken individuals unite, they either complete their flaws or destroy one another and sadly, in his case, it was the latter.

But is it such a sin to wish for a normal life? Dainsleif muses as he passes by giggling groups of unassuming humans, desperate vendors trying to sell their wares and many more individuals who might carve their places in the next epics of Teyvat. Often is it said, you only learn to value things after they leave your grasp and while his memory does erode day by day, he'll forever remember that Angel's — your countenance, how the corners of your lips used to curve before they did no longer, how every word of yours bewitched his decaying mind and built it anew.

He was an ant chasing after the fragrance of sugar, a mindless bug blinded by a speck of light, an apophyte clinging desperately to the bough, a sinner. And sinners do not deserve luxuries called normalcy, love or a home. The aftereffects of the Cataclysm that befell his homeland drove uncountable masses to nihility, some embraced their hatred while others rotted in corners of this world. It is testament to Dainsleif's willpower that he'd not been conquered by insanity yet. Indeed, he's always practiced rationale and patience ; which have also aided him in his prolonged search for you.

He investigated till every rock of this wretched world became his acquaintance and he kept on hanging to the last traces of your existence. But, as every expedition led to a dead end, he was forced to accept a lamentable realization, that he missed you. He missed you so much. He'd vowed to never kneel before those who took everything from him, at this point in his life though, he found himself one breath away from begging that floating island — if only it'd bring you back to his side.

Rain. It'd rained before that catastrophic day and on the eve you trespassed in his life as well. Would you laugh if you saw him in this state? Or, would you coax him up from his knees and shield him from the rain? A hoarse chuckle leaves his lips, how shameless does one need to be to still expect comfort from the being they hurt repeatedly? He'd rather not hear the answer.

“Mister?”

The sky growled at his misery but he could not differentiate it from a mocking sneer. He blinked upon feeling the absence of raindrops falling on his person and raised his head to stare.

It is as though the stars gazed at him back, “Why are you kneeling on the ground on a rainy day, mister?”

Dainsleif stared owlishly, his mind momentarily ceased to comprehend the present. The boy that'd reach his knees at most if Dainsleif had been standing returned his gaze in equal interest. Though the man failed to decipher those familiar eyes, it seemed that the boy had reached a conclusion.

“Oh, you must be in pain! Here, take one of my apples.”

The Bough Keeper jolted at the fruit that was shoved to his hand, in the blur of his confusion he'd not taken note of the bag full of apples clutched by the boy's other hand.

“My mother said that an apple a day would keep the pain away—ah, or was it the doctor? Anyway, please take it and don't look so sad. I should really be returning now…!”

Dainsleif opened his mouth (To protest, to question or to thank? He didn't know.) as the boy dashed away, the pitter-patters of the rain lulled his footsteps and left the man a great deal dumbfounded. He looked at the apple, now glistening with rainwater and recalled the boy's words. On normal occasions, he'd be tempted to immediately evacuate the vicinity after that mildly embarrassing encounter but, the memory of the starry gaze that rendered him speechless implored him to follow the boy's tracks.

At this point, his mind was operating on instinct, tracing the footprints of an unknown child without purpose would be the farthest thing he'd put on his agenda in his current state. The dense forest swallowed his form until it finally gifted him with a clearing, a small source of light peeked past a half open window and enticed him closer.

“...re…were…y…?”

The man only came to his senses after hearing muffled voices, standing before what he assumed was the door to the thatched cottage. For a second, he debated whether to continue this rendezvous but resigning that he'd come too far, he decided to take a peek through the window.

The rain lulled just enough to not be an outright nuisance, succinct yet unforgettable — there you were, separated by but a weak wooden structure and Dainsleif's stupefied mind. You are there. Are you really there? Right before his eyes, emerging out of nowhere after he turned Teyvat upside down just to find some reassurance that you're still alive? Your eyes narrowed in that familiar frown and rubbing a towel through a boy's hair—

Wait, what?

Fine strands of blonde clung to Dainsleif's forehead, a few drops of water dripping down to join the small puddle under his feet. He gaped like a fish at the scene and at the boy who led him to this epiphany, completely forgetting vigilance.

“Did you talk to anyone, son?”

Flowers bloomed in his heart at the sound of that familiar lilt and his breath hitched as he processed the contents you uttered. Son. You called that boy son. In the light of your humble abode, he noticed the boy's golden locks of hair that he'd previously foregone and a conclusion crawled its way to his mind. He has a child. He has a child? Dainsleif knew you have a knack for unpredictability but this level of surprise was not what he was expecting upon your first appearance after all these years. He dwelled on the question of how it was even possible for a while, he recalled the boy's eyes ; those characteristic star-shaped pupils would never lie. Voices reached his ear again and he decided to cast aside these questions for a later time.

“I did, but the man looked so sad all alone in the rain! So, I gave him one of the apples because I didn't know what else to do. I promise I didn't talk too much!”

You paused for a while, a cautious query followed, “What did he look like?”

The boy copied your silence this time, finding great interest in your nails before exclaiming, “Pretty ordinary!”

Dainsleif didn't know why but that gave a sting to his heart, he looked back to you to see the unreadable expression on your face slowly shift to a soft smile. You affectionately ruffled the boy—his boy's hair, the action somehow softened the ache in his soul. Until he remembered that he was ignorant of his own son's name. He was one who preferred to form his opinion of everyone from a neutral point of view and while he's not one to excuse children's behavior just because of their age, seeing his own son speak half-truths at this stage raised many more concerns to be dropped in the pile.

You're not someone who'd preach dishonesty to a child but considering the situation you are currently in and the things this child must've seen, he found himself understanding. The skies rumbled and Dainsleif barely pushed back the urge to kick down the door and take his family to where they belonged. But seeing the smile that he'd yearned for so many years, he hesitated. You'd fought hard to earn this little happiness and acting on his impulses now, however justified they might be, would be dishonoring your efforts. And judging by your reactions, he can already sense that you won't just sit idly by for him to pounce on.

So, he'll be patient for bit longer and when the time is right, it'll seem as though his family returned to his arms out of their own volition.

#requests: batch two #answered #beloved-brynn #yandere dainsleif #yandere dainsleif x reader #dainsleif x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #something in my heart tells me that dain gives off girl-dad vibes #buuuut since you mentioned it #tbh dain is so real for that opinion like.. have you seen children these days 💀

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blenderfullasarcasm · 10 months ago

Note

"You haven't laughed in a long time, so I guess I was staring cause I forgot what that looked like."

They're gettin' lunch in Heiji's favorite okonomiyaki place (the one that must have been blessed by somethin' powerful because he's never once run into a case there, even when he's hangin' out with Kudou), because he and Kudou have spent the last few hours figurin' out who killed the jerkass manager at one of the fancy stores a few blocks away. It's already three in the afternoon and they're starvin'. Okonomiyaki is fast, cheap, close by, and, most importantly, murder free.

(Probably. Who knew, with Kudou's luck.)

Kudou's squintin' down at the menu, studyin' it carefully like there's more than ten options. He absentmindedly raises one hand to push up his glasses, but ends up pokin' himself in the nose because he doesn't hafta wear 'em anymore.

Kudou blinks rapidly, surprised, then glances at Heiji like he's hopin' he didn't notice.

Heiji snorts and grins back at him smugly. No such luck there.

Kudou scowls at him and sets his menu down pointedly.

A waitress appears instantly, takin' his movements as a cue to ask if he's ready to order.

Kudou obviously isn't, or maybe he's just in th' mood to annoy Heiji, because instead'a telling her what he wants he glances over at Heiji and says, "Why don't you order for me, hm?" like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Heiji thinks Kudou should suck it up and get his eyes checked. He rolls his eyes and orders for him anyway. "Two'a my usual, thanks, Tanaka-san."

Kudou frowns and starts to open his mouth, but Heiji's already wavin' him off. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Extra green onions on mine, nunna them on yours."

Tanaka jots their orders down on her notepad and shoots 'em both a brief smile before leavin' to take the orders to the kitchen.

"That's not what I was going to say," Kudou says, even endin' his sentence with the stupid Tokyo 'sa' for emphasis, because he can never just let Heiji bask in the sweet, sweet satisfaction of finally bein' one step ahead'a him.

"You told Ran-san you were allergic to 'em to get outta eatin' 'em," Heiji reminds him.

Kudou scowls so hard it's almost a pout. "Maybe I like them now," he argues.

Heiji rolls his eyes. Yeah, right.

"Keep actin' like that and I'll call her back and tell her you're gettin' a kid's meal," Heiji grumbles, then thinks, oh shit.

He probably shouldn't joke about that yet.

Heiji looks up to apologize for puttin' his foot in his mouth, but before he can even open his lips, Kudou cackles.

Heiji can't help but stare, drinkin' in the bright sound of Kudou's voice as he laughs his ass off. He's actually wheezin', the elbow he's got braced on the table the only thing keepin' him from fallin' out of his chair, and his blue eyes sparkle with mirth when he glances up through his eyelashes at Heiji and starts laughin' even harder.

He hasn't seen Kudou laugh this hard in...ever, probably. Definitely not since he returned to his body and told Ran-san everything and she'd told him she needed time. (Kazuha woulda kicked his ass if he'd hidden from her in plain sight and lied to her face for years, so he's pretty sure Kudou's getting off easy.)

Heiji has to join in, even though the joke wasn't even that funny.

...He should probably stop starin' at the curve of Kudou's mouth, Heiji acknowledges to himself as Kudou's laughter starts to wind down.

(He doesn't, though.)

"What are you looking at me like that for?" Kudou asks, once he's finally stopped wheezin' long enough to take a couple deep breaths and suck in some desperately needed oxygen.

Heiji shrugs faux-casually. "Jus' haven't seen you laugh that hard in a minute, 's all. Kinda forgot what it looks like."

Somethin' a little bittersweet flashes behind Kudou's eyes, there an' gone again so quick that Heiji almost thinks he's imaginin' it.

Kudou clearly doesn't want to dwell on it, though, 'cuz all he says is, "Maybe so," before abruptly changin' the subject. "What did you order for me, anyway?"

Heiji smirks at him. "Why don't ya try deducing it, Heisei Holmes-san?"

Kudou's eyes flash again, but this time they're bright with the excited spark of challenge accepted.

---

written for this prompt game

#yeah i know technically it should be reiwa holmes now but that just doesnt have the same ring to it #heishin #hattori heiji #kudou shinichi #detective conan #meitantei conan #dcmk #case closed #tumblr ask game #send me asks

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fortheloveofwonderland · 3 months ago

Text

Rusty | Chapter 24 FINAL | S.R

Previous Chapter

A/N - not originally where I planned to take this it felt right for me to take the fic in this direction. There is a happy ending but I guess it’s kinda bittersweet?

Summary - Spencer takes one final blow in regards to his health and Luke makes a decision. Will you and Spencer get your happy ending or were you just too rusty?

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - heavy hospital talk, swearing, terminal illness, DID, catheterisation and urination, medication, lots of tears, hints at oral (m receiving), penetrative, unprotected sex.

WC - 6.3k

Chapter 24 - Bless the Broken Road

Over the next few days, Spencer started gaining some independence. But with the ups came some terrible lows.

He was gradually weaned off of the ventilator, which was an experience in itself. Doctor Wells was confident in his ability to breathe on his own. However his chest x-ray hadn't yielded entirely good news and she confirmed her unfortunate findings with tissue samples. One thing at a time. She would get Spencer off the vent and then have the conversation.

He was given a mild sedative to relax his airways and calm his nerves. He was conscious but hazy which was for the best.

His tube was suctioned one more time before Doctor Wells started slowly decreasing the ventilator's support and monitoring his response.

His lungs kicked back into gear albeit leisurely. At first he struggled to remember how to take his own breaths, still heavily relying on the ventilator and gasping a little between each staggered inhale and exhale.

Doctor Wells continued to lower the machine, while he desperately fought to breathe on his own. Once the machine was completely disconnected, the tube still down in his throat in case he needed the vent suddenly, he was subjected to spontaneous breathing trials.

For over an hour he was watched closely by the doctor while he sat in bed and simply breathed. Every now and again he would gasp, stutter out a ragged breath and heave air back into his lungs.

She reminded him to stay calm, to just let it happen naturally which was hard given he’d had something breathing for him for nearly a week.

She monitored his oxygen levels and vitals and was pleased with his progress even if he didn’t think his breathing felt at all normal. She assured him it was all par for the course.

After she was suitably pleased with his breathing, his lungs feeling like they were ready to expand right out of his chest, she informed him she would be extubating him.

The feeling of the breathing tube being removed from his throat caused him to gag violently and cough so hard it burnt. His breathing became completely erratic and he silently begged to just be hooked back up to the machine.

It’s too hard, can’t do it alone. Can’t remember how to breathe on my own. Can’t do it. Can’t remember. S’too hard, please?

“Doctor Reid, you’re doing great. It’s okay to feel some anxiety, it’s perfectly normal. Just breathe in and out like you’ve been doing your entire life.”

At first he was inhaling too sharply, through his nose and sending the air spiralling too quickly into his exhausted lungs.

Why can’t I remember how to breathe? Been doing it since you were born. It was six days, you can do this you fucking idiot.

After several long minutes his breathing started to return to something close to normal although he had to concentrate extremely hard on each breath.

Doctor Wells provided him with a nasal cannula although instructed he try to only use it when he really felt he needed it.

She explained it would be an adjustment. His respiratory muscles needed to generate the necessary force to move air in and out, and those muscles had been depleted whilst on the vent.

“Can you try swallowing for me, Doctor Reid?” She asked him once he started getting his breathing somewhat under control.

He did. And it felt magnificent. He did it again. Then she handed him some blessed water for his extremely dry throat but told him he had to sip slowly, despite wanting to guzzle it down.

The water was glorious, quenching his hideous throat and mouth. It was such a wonderful reprieve and he relished every second.

“Do you think you can try and talk for me now?” Doctor Wells encouraged after he finished the cup of water.

He rolled his cracked lip between his teeth - a small action he’d missed being able to do - before gently nodding his head.

He cleared his throat and sucked in a breath which caused his lungs to freak out and he started coughing.

Another cup of water and several minutes of trying to calm him down he sat back against his pillows feeling a little light headed. But he persevered.

“H-hello.” His voice was so croaky he barely registered it was his own.

It made his throat tickle and he almost succumbed to another coughing fit but thankfully breathed through it.

“Great, and again?” Wells prompted.

Does she have any idea how difficult it was just to say that?

He fought the urge to huff another breath for fear of sending his lungs into a panic again. He’d wanted his first words to be to tell you how much he loved you but since your first time visiting him yesterday you were yet to return.

You’d stayed with him for a few hours and talked to him while he listened and dozed in and out of sleep. You talked to him about Willow and Rusty and Copper, told him Grant and Luke were staying with you and how weird it was. He continuously tapped away on your hand, repeating his morse code mantra.

dot-dot. dot-dash-dot-dot. dash-dash-dash. dot-dot-dot-dash. dot. dash-dot-dash-dash. dash-dash-dash. dot-dot-dash.

And to his knowledge he hadn’t dissociated or slipped into one of his alters once the whole time you were there. However, as soon as you left the old ghosts had reared their ugly head and chatted amongst themselves until he willfully fell asleep.

Doctor Wells was watching him expectantly, waiting for him to speak. He had no idea what he was supposed to say, it was a very strange and new experience. But despite everything, he forced his voice to cooperate.

“H-hello, I am S-Spen…Spe-Spencer Reid.” The effort with which it took him to say those five words caused a heat to spread to his lungs again and he was huffing and puffing once they were out.

Doctor Wells was quick to hand him the nasal cannula which he gratefully took from her, stuffing the little tubes inside his nostrils and deeply inhaling the sweet, sweet oxygen. And that was when she decided to deliver the blow.

“Doctor Reid…Spencer,” her expression changed and Spencer knew that look, he’d used it so many times in his FBI career.

Bad news. She has bad news. Oh god I’m dying aren’t I? Oh fuck you’ve really done it this time.

His head started to spin, his vision blurring.

No, no don’t dissociate now, you need to understand what she has to say.

He focused himself on his breathing, squeezed the bedsheets in his hand. He needed to stay present, stay focused. The fuzzy edges of his vision became slowly sharper.

We can do this, just be Spencer.

“W-what is it?” He spoke breathily. “Just tell me, please?”

“I’m afraid there is no easy way to say this.” Doctor Wells sighed. “During your chest x-ray we found some scarring on your lungs and the diagnosis was confirmed by having your tissue samples analysed. I’m afraid it appears you’ve developed pulmonary fibrosis, I trust you know what this is?”

Spencer’s jaw clenched. He focused on keeping himself as Spencer, not allowing the alters to take over. Not now, he needed just a moment to deal with this himself.

“I-I…” hardened, thickened lung tissue, makes it hard to breathe, harder over time. Shortness of breath, coughing fits, constant fatigue. “Y-yes.”

“It is terminal, Doctor Reid, and it is progressive. However, we caught it early and although it's not curable it is treatable. It is possible that you can live for years with this disease if properly treated.” She smiled softly, her tone laced with melancholia.

“But it w-will kill me? O-one day?” He stuttered.

“I’m afraid so. And we have no way to know how long that will take. The average life span is generally three to five years, but I’m hopeful you can beat those odds.”

He sucked in the oxygen through his nose, biting back a cough. His breaths were coming in short, sharp bursts.

Better get used to that, never going to be able to breathe properly again.

“I want to get you started on medication right away. I’m going to prescribe pirfenidone which will help slow the lung scarring, but won’t be able to reverse it. We can set you up with at home oxygen therapy once you are discharged, portable oxygen cylinders with nasal cannulas that you can use when you feel the need.

“I can enrol you in a pulmonary rehabilitation which will help you stay active without over exerting yourself and will improve how easily you will be able to do every day tasks. This sadly doesn’t end well, Doctor Reid, as you know. But with your age and the fact we caught it early, I do believe you can live a long, relatively normal life.”

“But not as l-long as if I didn’t h-have this, right?” He felt the tears well in his eyes.

“Right.” She agreed.

Well done, Reid you did it. You wanted to kill yourself and ultimately got your wish. It's just going to be a slow, painful death while your lungs steadily give up on you.

“I, uh, can I b-be alone, p-please?” He let the tears fall, rolling his head on the pillow away from the doctor.

“Of course.” She nodded and he heard her push the chair back.

“And I d-don’t want…my friends, d-don’t tell them this. I’ll t-tell them when I’m ready. N-not yet.” His chest stuttered with each painful breath. Was it normal that his lungs hurt more now he knew this?

“Of course Doctor Reid, that’s your call. But I will say that it helps to have people around while you’re dealing with something like this. Your life will be exceedingly different now and you will need people to aid your adjustment. You aren’t going to be able to do all the things you used to do, accepting help from people who love you will greatly improve your quality of life and even lengthen it.” Doctor Wells spoke but she could see he was no longer listening.

She could tell by the glazed look in his eyes he wasn’t even Spencer anymore.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his fractured mind, Spencer registered her words. But his presenting alter wasn’t listening.

“Look what you’ve gone and done you fucking puta. After everything you survived, this is what you’re going to let kill you? Mierda, what a waste of such a perfect cock sucking mouth.”

Lea-leave me al-alone. I c-can’t. Can’t. Not now. P-please just let me pro-process.

Spencer Reid who wasn’t Spencer Reid cried himself into a fitful sleep while his slowly dying lungs tried desperately to keep him alive a little while longer.

***

Three days later Spencer was dealing with his diagnosis the way he always dealt with things - by ignoring them.

He’d started PT to aid his breathing for his disused lungs which he thought was pointless seeing that they were giving up on him anyway.

He was off his catheter and allowed to move about as long as he had his portable oxygen tank at his disposal.

Coming off of the catheter offered him a distraction from his illness albeit not a particularly nice one. The feeling of having a full bladder was an uncomfortable and new experience. He’d gotten so used to the catheter draining his urine constantly he’d forgotten what it was like to need to go.

He often found himself not quite making it to the bathroom before he expelled himself, once in bed and a few times on the floor on route to the toilet. And when did go it was painful and oftentimes he wasn’t able to empty his bladder to the extent he needed and was left feeling dissatisfied.

It was slowly starting to pass, he was at least able to make it to the bathroom before urinating himself now but the slight discomfort remained.

He was prescribed pirfenidone for his pulmonary fibrosis and after a few meetings with Doctor Vikram she put him on a strong dose of olanzapine for his DID which was yet to go away.

He’d refused at first, desperate to not be reliant on an antipsychotic used to treat schizophrenia. But as the days drew on and the alters grew louder and louder in his head, he decided he would do anything to make it stop.

He was eventually able to shower which was an absolute godsend. And finally after nearly two weeks in the hospital, Spencer was allowed to be discharged.

Honestly it felt like an absolute lifetime since he’d last stepped outside. The air seemed fresher, crisper somehow.

Spring was in full bloom and he wished he could properly smell the flowers over his nasal cannula which was attached to the little canister of oxygen that Luke insisted on wheeling for him even though he was perfectly capable.

He still hadn’t told any of you about his diagnosis, he simply lied and said he’d need the oxygen for a little while until his lungs would get back to their full capacity, knowing they never would.

Luke drove home, Grant sitting up front and you in the back with Spencer, hand in hand. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, slipping the nose cannula out and letting it hang around his neck.

He wasn’t supposed to use it all the time anyway, only when he really needed it. Although his lungs did noticeably burn when he wasn’t using it.

He just wanted to enjoy this moment with you, knowing it would all soon be over. None of you had discussed what happened now but you all knew it was inevitable.

It was late and so Spencer offered Luke and Grant to stay one last night, more out of wanting one final night with you before Luke carted you away to federal prison.

Grant cooked a large meal for which Spencer barely touched, he had other things on his mind. After you’d all eaten, he removed his cannula once more and let himself take in a fresh breath.

All eyes were already on him. You were all far too smart and all knew he was keeping something from you.

He closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose before opening them and looking back around the table.

“Luke, I need you to do me a f-favour.” Spencer spoke breathily.

“Anything man.” Luke quickly replied.

“I need you t-to call the team. I n-need to tell you all some-something and I can only say it on-once.” He panted as he spoke.

You whimpered pathetically, reaching out and clutching his hand at the implication. Luke swallowed thickly, glancing at Grant as he freed his phone from his pocket without a word. He called Emily and put the device on speaker. It rang three times.

“Hey, Alvez. How is Reid?” She was speaking rapidly.

“I’m h-here, Emily.” He spoke before Luke could.

“Reid, it's so good to hear your voice.” She smiled as she spoke.

“Prentiss, are you with the team?” Luke’s voice cut in.

“Uh, yeah we’re all at the BAU, why?”

“Can you g-gather them please? Need to…p-please?” Spencer whined, pressing his knuckles to his chest as a wave of pain pulsed through him.

“Of course, give me a minute.” Her tone was laced with the fear you all felt in the room.

You clutched Spencer’s hand tighter, already feeling the tears well in your eyes, knowing whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be good.

A few minutes of thick and tense silence passed before Emily was speaking again.

“We’re all here, Reid. The whole team is here.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his cannula and holding it to his nose whilst taking a long pull on the liquid heaven that was his oxygen. He let it hang again from his neck and looked around the room. If he focused hard enough he could imagine the whole team was here with him.

“I don’t know h-how to say this other than to-to just s-say it.” Breathe, remember to breathe. “The d-doctor found scar-scarring on my lungs. She dia-diagnosed me with pulmonary fib-fibrosis.” Struggling, he picked the cannula back up and inserted it fully into his nose. “My lungs are going to slowly shut down. The thin w-walls of my l-lungs air sacs are t-thickening which m-makes it harder for t-them to get o-oxygen to the rest of my body.

“The t-typical prognosis is th-three to f-five years, but D-Doctor Wells is h-hopeful I might out-outlive those odds. But either way this…this is going to k-kill me one d-day.” Breath, just breath. “I’m on m-medication to slo-slow the sc-scarring and I w-will need supplemental ox-oxygen. I…uh…I just needed you a-all to know. I n-need you all to know that I lo-love you all. And, uh…yeah.”

He closed his eyes against a wave of tears and tugged the cannula back out of his nose. He leaned back in his chair, feeling your hand trembling in his own. He heard you sob loudly as the words sunk in.

Across the table a few tears had escaped Luke’s eyes, the eyes he couldn’t tear off of Spencer. Grant was gripping his shoulder, clinging to his boyfriend while he silently cried.

Down the line was a lot of gasps and cries he discerned as belonging to Penelope and JJ. He heard the mutterings of “oh kid,” from Rossi and various other sentiments from the others.

“Oh my gosh, Spence.” JJ sobbed, he could imagine her holding her chest the way she did when she was sad.

“Is there anything we can do? Anything at all?” Tara was speaking now, tone laced with concern and heartbreak.

“Boy wonder, my heart, my soul.” Garcia was crying too.

More words came swarming down the line but Spencer couldn’t comprehend them. They all had a lot of questions but Spencer was too exhausted to answer them right now.

He promised to stay in better touch with them and he would answer everything in due course but right now he was too overwhelmed and when he got overwhelmed his ghosts like to come out to play.

He was still getting used to his olanzapine and had slipped into one of his dissociative personas once or twice in the last few days but thankfully it was already starting to become few and far between.

He heard the voices still regularly but mostly in his head and they didn’t often come to the surface. But maybe that was more due to the fact he had far more important things on his mind.

After the call ended he took in the teary eyes around the table as he pushed his chair back. He grabbed the handles of his wheely canister to steady his shaking legs, the cannula still hanging around his neck. You jumped up and placed your hands on his chest. He bowed his head and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“I just need some fresh air.” He mumbled to you with a small smile.

He knew he ought to be spending every second he could with you as come morning Luke would be taking you away. But right now he just needed a second to gather his raging thoughts before he became someone he didn’t want to be.

He wheeled the oxygen out onto the back porch, Copper following behind him. He cautiously lowered himself to the swing chair and Copper jumped up, immediately curling up at Spencer’s side.

Spencer’s breathing was a little fraught from the short walk but he tried to calm it himself rather than constantly relying on the blessed oxygen, no matter how much he might like to. He brushed his knuckles over the smooth coat of Copper’s neck trying to keep the others from taking over his rampant thoughts.

“This is all your own fault.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“You’ve not just hurt yourself but the people you love too. You’re no better than any of us.”

Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters anymore.

He cast his eyes out in the dark across the expanse of land down the hill. Eventually his breathing started returning to normal, or at least what was his new normal. He was surprised he was allowed any semblance of peace from the three of you but after a little while he heard the screen door open and close behind him.

Spencer glanced up at the man who looked so much older than his years right then. Spencer imagined he didn’t look much better himself. Luke offered him a sorrowful smile as he pulled a wicker chair over to sit in front of him.

“Hey,” Luke whispered, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Hey,” Spencer replied.

“Love you, you know that right, cariño?” Luke sniffed heavily.

“Love you too, querido.” Spencer sniffed too but it caused him to cough a few times before he managed to stem it.

“Life is just so fucking unfair.” Luke shook his head, his sadness suddenly replaced with malice. “This shouldn’t be happening to you. After everything you’ve already been through this should not-”

“Luke,” Spencer’s wispy voice cut him off before he could start ranting. “It’s my own f-fault. I tried to dr-drown myself, this is my ret…ret…retribution. Probably shoulda just l-let me die.”

“Don’t say that, please don’t say that.” Luke’s tears returned and scored hot and heavy down his cheeks.

“I’m terminally ill, I don’t get to ma-make jokes?” Spencer smiled wistfully.

“Only if they’re funny.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Do you want me and Grant to stay out here a little while? Just until you get yourself sorted with your meds and everything?”

“No off-offence Luke, but that sounds incredibly fu-fucking awkward.” He panted.

“Fair enough.” Luke agreed. “Is there anything I can do?”

Not arrest my fiancé. Don’t take her away from me.

“No,” Spencer shook his head, patting Copper’s back. “Right n-now I’d really just l-like to take Y/N to b-bed and try and not def-deflate a lung in the p-process.”

“Now who's making it awkward?” Luke frowned, wiping his tears. “We’ll take the guest room downstairs tonight I think.”

“Appreciate it.” Spencer reinstated his cannula and Luke helped him to his feet while Copper jumped up too.

The two men stood under the sky, beautifully alight with the glistening stars peppering the otherwise black blanket above them.

Luke reached out and cupped Spencer’s jaw lightly and the younger man hummed at the contact.

“I’ll always…always…” Luke choked.

“I k-know.” Spencer breathed. “I’ll always t-too.”

Luke nodded, leaning closer and brushing his lips across Spencer’s in the most featherlight kiss he could almost believe he imagined it.

But he knew he hadn’t.

Spencer was soon turning on his heels and wheeling his canister back towards the house with Copper trotting behind while Luke remained still on the porch.

Once Spencer was gone he pulled his phone out again and redialled the familiar number. This time she answered on the second ring.

“Hey Alvez,” Emily Prentiss had without a doubt been crying no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

“Prentiss, sorry to just keep piling it on but…” he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Effective immediately, I quit the BAU.”

***

Spencer didn’t know if it was the lack of oxygen filling his shattered lungs that made him light headed or if that could be attributed to the fact he had just experienced the most intense orgasm of his entire life.

He was on his back, panting around the cannula which was most certainly keeping him alive at that moment, staring at the ceiling while you laid next to him, curling into his side.

“I d-don’t have any wo-words.” Spencer breathed as you placed kisses on his bare chest.

“Hmm, I did my job then.” You laughed a little wistfully.

It was your last night together and Spencer wanted to feel everything with you before it was too late. So ignoring the voices in his head, he had finally succumbed to feeling your mouth around his shaft.

It had been so long since he allowed someone to do that to him, he’d almost forgotten how incredible it could feel. You’d made him come in no time at all and you’d swallowed every last drop of him down. But he needed more.

He lifted your head from his chest and kissed you, tasting the remains of his seed on your tongue. He rolled you on top of him and it was easy to feel he was already halfway to erect again.

One hand took purchase on the back of your neck while he kissed you as fervently as his lungs would allow while the other dipped between your legs, gasping at how wet you were from simply pleasuring him.

The gasp caused you to pull away from his lips, concerned he was struggling to breathe, which truthfully he was in spite of the cannula feeding him oxygen. His fingers slid between your folds as you looked down on him with slightly sad eyes.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” You whined as he brushed over your sensitive clit.

“I don’t care.” He shook his head. “Y/N, this is o-our last night together. I n-need to feel you on-one last time. P-please?” He whimpered in that breathy voice you were already growing so accustomed to.

“It could literally kill you Spen…oh fuck” You moaned as he pressed deftly against your bud.

“I h-honestly don’t care. If th-this is how I die then I’ll con…consider myself a l-lucky man.”

“Don’t joke.”

“Who’s joking?” He suddenly removed his hand from between your legs and wrapped it around his fully hard cock. “P-please princess, ri-ride me? We can go n-nice and slow and I’ll be f-fine.”

Or I’ll die. But at least I’ll die doing what I love.

“Spence, I really don’t want my last memory of you to be of you dying while I’m riding you.” You huffed.

“If this whole t-thing has taught me a-anything it’s that our time is fin-finite. L-life is not a gu-guarantee. But love…love is infinite. And I l-love you more than wo-words can say. Let’s remember us this w-way.” He sucked in a breath around the cannula. “Whadda you say pr-princess? Hop on up here and g-give me something to rem-remember.”

Your eyes were wet with tears as you looked down on him. Life was intrinsically unfair. In less than twelve hours Luke would be carting you away while Spencer was left here to die a slow and painful death.

Time was finite, you knew that to be true now more so than ever. And if Spencer wanted you in that way one last time, who were you to deny him that.

You bowed your head and captured his chapped lips in a kiss while moving his own hand aside so you could grip the base of his shaft.

You lined him up with your entrance while sitting back on your haunches. Spencer’s eyes fell between your legs and he watched in slack jawed awe as he disappeared inside of you inch by glorious inch.

He slowly bottomed out inside of you, your ass nestled on his thighs. He smiled up at you, breathing in through the cannula as he took in every intricate detail of your body.

You were a work of art, sculpted by skilled hands just for him. You were magnificent in your beauty, an ethereal creature for whom he surely didn’t deserve.

He loved every single tiny piece of you from your head to your toes and every wondrous curve in between. Even if your time together had been short, he treasured every second of it and would for the rest of his life, however long that might be.

He gave you a soft nod, encouraging you to move. You were slow and steady in your movements, careful to listen out for any ragged breathing from him.

Every time his pants got a little too violent you stilled to allow him to catch his breath.

With each leisurely roll of your hips Spencer swore he felt himself ebbing impossibly deeper inside of you, reaching places he swore couldn’t be real.

The gentle tapping of his blunt head against your cervix over and over again in a blissfully sluggish rhythm caused you to teeter closer and closer to your brink.

Spencer held eye contact with you the whole time, laying perfectly still as he didn’t think his lungs could cope with any unnecessary movement.

In truth his chest burned in agony with each aching intake of air but he didn’t care. All that mattered was the way you felt sheathed around him, rutting against him, clenching around him.

By the time his second orgasm snuck up on him, pinching in the pit of his belly, he was light headed again but this time it was most certainly from lack of air.

With a few more rocks of your pelvis you both came undone, reaching your peaks simultaneously. Spencer spilled his seed inside of you while your walls tightened around him, sending shockwaves through his entire body.

You rode out your orgasms together but once you were starting to come down, you noticed the frantic heaving of Spencer’s chest and his slightly blue tinged lips.

“Oh my gosh, Spence?” You threw yourself down to the bed, stroking his messy hair off his face.

“I’m f-fine. S’fine.” He closed his eyes.

“You're not fine!” You cried, gripping his face.

“T-tired, okay? I’m s-sorry. Maybe…was a bit m-much. Worth it t-though. Okay. I’m o-okay…love y-you princess…”

You didn’t sleep. Not even a wink. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him all night. You stared at his chest to make sure he was breathing and if you couldn’t see any movement you’d hold your hand above his mouth and nose until you felt his breaths against your skin.

The fear and adrenaline coursed through you at the thought of his lungs collapsing because of his insistence to have you one last time.

The flood of relief washed over you when he opened his eyes the next morning, smiling sleepily up at you through his lashes.

“You scared me to death last night.” You spoke in hushed tones.

“Hmm, sorry p-princess.” He panted, his hand rising to entwine in your hair and draw you in for a kiss.

You cuddled for a while draped in that sleep addled bliss before you both became painfully aware that your time was almost up.

You helped him shower, massaging every inch of his body much like you had done all those months ago back in Bandera. It seemed like another lifetime ago now.

Afterwards you dressed and you assisted him carrying his canister downstairs, feeling much like you were walking the plank.

Luke and Grant were already up, the front door was open and Copper puttered about on the porch while Grant heaved his suitcase into Luke’s rental.

Luke was in the doorway and he turned when he heard the two of you heading down the stairs. He smiled a little wistfully at you both and stepped back inside.

“Guess this is goodbye.” Luke shrugged at Spencer, holding his arms open for the other man.

Spencer practically fell into them, nuzzling against Luke’s strong chest while the older man tucked him in his arms as though he was made of glass.

“Stay in touch this time, please?” Luke whispered into Spencer’s ear.

“Promise.” He replied.

As they were pulling apart, Grant headed back in, Copper hot on his tail. He smiled softly at Spencer with a small nod of his head.

“Ready to hit the road, stud?” Grant nudged Luke’s arm.

“Yeah, I think so.” Luke turned his attention to you.

There was an indescribable look in his eyes, his lip quivering ever so slightly at the corner as you prepared for what came next.

“Well, uh, take care then guys.” He offered you both a wave, wrapping an arm around Grant’s shoulder and turning them both back to the open door.

You stared at the back of his head while Spencer looked frantically between you and Luke. Your heart was rampantly thumping against your chest, confusion riddled in your bones.

“What’s…what’s going on?” You croaked out.

Luke and Grant slowly turned back around, a curious look on Luke’s features. You were too busy looking at Luke that you didn’t notice the smile on Grant’s face.

“What do you mean?” Luke’s lips puckered, forehead creasing.

“You…you’re supposed to be arresting me.” You swallowed around your dry tongue.

Luke and Grant exchanged a look before Luke turned back to you with a small shrug.

“As of last night I no longer work for the FBI. So I guess I can’t.”

“What?” Spencer breathed. “What d-do you mean?”

“It was time for a change. Think I might work at one of those rehab facilities for veterans. Maybe train service dogs like Roxy, who knows. Guess the world is my oyster.” He shrugged again.

“You…I don’t understand what’s happening.” Tears flooded your vision, your bottom lip quivering. “If you don’t arrest me, your old partner will still be looking for me. I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Luke’s lip twitched into a smirk. “I’ve got it covered. Just have a good life, okay? Both of you. Everyone deserves a second chance at happiness, god knows I got mine.”

He glanced at Grant with a smile, entwining their fingers and giving his hand a small tug.

“Shall we go, cariño?”

“Please,” Grant replied.

You and Spencer watched them go in bewildered silence. You kept watching them until they were in Luke’s rental car, strapping themselves in and driving away down the gravel path.

Finally you turned to Spencer, tears flowing heavily down both of your faces. It was hard to say which one of you crumbled first but suddenly you were in each other's arms, holding each other upright while you sobbed in the doorway of that old Victorian home.

You had no way of knowing at the time, but four weeks later Spencer Reid would receive an email from someone called [email protected] on his newly acquired laptop. The email would contain no message, simply three attachments.

The first would be a death certificate promoting your name. The second, a birth certificate sporting your own date of birth alongside the name Elizabeth Reid. And the third would be a marriage licence declaring the union of the aforementioned Elizabeth Reid and Spencer Reid.

And later when Spencer would call Luke and ask him about it, he would deny all knowledge of it.

The two of you would make the decision to move away from Tombstone, as much as you loved the place, it wasn’t yours. You and Spencer’s fresh start would come in the form of Grant’s idea that he sell you and Spencer his old ranch.

And so the two of you would live out your days back in Bandera on Grant’s family ranch, equipped with a summer house in which he and Luke would frequently vacation. Eventually you would acquire more horses and more cattle and even another dog to keep Copper company.

But that was still all to come.

For now, Spencer took hold of your hand and wheeling his canister in the other, the two of you headed down towards the stable, Copper running on ahead. You aided Spencer in mounting Willow, leaving his oxygen supplement behind and insisting he would be alright for a little trot down to the creek. You saddled up Rusty and with Copper still in toe, the five of you headed outside into the morning sunshine.

Spencer reached over as the mares walked side by side and took hold of your hand, offering you a slightly wistful smile as he did so. There was no way of knowing how much time the two of you had left together, it was impossible to know how long Spencer had until his life was cut tragically short.

But with any luck the two of you still had some wonderful years left ahead before you needed to worry about his diagnosis. And you would relish every single second of them.

His hand squeezed yours tightly, his breathing a little heavy but he gave you a look that told you he was okay. The two horses took to the incline leading down through the trees towards the babbling brook beyond, Copper running happy little circles around Willow and Rusty.

You took in the beautiful morning, allowed yourself to relish in your own freedom for which you had been certain would end today. And you swore you would never take life granted again.

You gently patted Rusty’s neck with your other hand, silently thanking her for knocking Spencer off of his horse all those months ago, for if she hadn’t the two of you would never have met.

It wouldn’t always be this way, there would still be some challenges along that broken road you travelled, but you would weather them together. Spencer still had a long way to go with his mental health and there would be blips, times in which the ghosts would rear their ugly heads and threaten to destroy everything he’d worked for. And of course understanding how to live with his illness would be a learning curve but he knew with you by his side, he could conquer anything.

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles as the five of you continued on your journey. You both still had a lot to learn, there would most certainly still be bumps in the road, but together the two of you could navigate just about any hurdle.

And even if you couldn’t, it would still be okay. You were both still a little rusty, after all.

@kalulakunundrum @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling @pleasantwitchgarden @djsjjsjsjsjsnsnsns @bringitonhomejohnb @chineray1234

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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runespoor7 · 10 months ago

Note

I mean obviously I’m am going to ask you about chengxian, for the ask meme

What made you ship it?

It was the most interesting relationship in the book. I'm a sucker for childhood friends with broken promises, for grief, for misunderstandings over loyalty and love, and for relationships whose resolution in canon is bittersweet.

It still took some time and effort before I started really shipping it. I was theoretically open to shipping it but I hadn't yet read fics that really sold me on it (this was in 2019, I think). Then as an experiment I put a WWX-inspired character in the setting I was GMing for the JC and JYL NPC stand-ins to have him to play off of. Turned out I did ship them.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

😬

*wide, helpless, expansive gesture*

It's never simple with them. It's always fraught. They love one another but they also resent one another. Hunting demonic cultivators is about WWX still maybe being alive. Maybe JC can bring himself to kill WWX this time, or maybe he can find a way to bring WWX back home and forgive him. WWX promises to be with JC but he ends up promising that he won't stay ("like my father served your father") but he didn't mean it with an end. the mess that is the fraughtness of WWX's liminal space when it comes to his social rank.

love hurts, what hurts is love.

the fact that the one 'leading' is WWX, not JC, going against the accepted social order. (tbh, if that wasn't the case, I probably wouldn't be into the ship.) it paints such a picture of WWX being so charismatic, and JC being so taken with him, that JC falls into being WWX's sidekick. no wonder YZY was awful about it.

JC keeping Chenqing like a mad dog and keeping Lotus Pier WWX-safe. I. god. JC rating WWX's attention >>>>>>>>>>>>> JC's self-respect every time, in every way. Amazing.

it's incredible to me how WWX asks JYL about love in a scene framed in a manner to make it subtextually point in the direction of LWJ (it's mdzs; the canon pair in mdzs is wgxn; there are no - explicit - love triangles in mdzs; and yet even WWX's original crush on LWJ is, uh. informed by JC and how WWX is with JC and the fact that LWJ is New and Not The Son of WWX's Benefactor. this is normal.), where it's apparent that WWX is scared of being in love because it changes how you act, it's a limit, it's a cage, you're limiting yourself for someone else - and then WWX does something for JC that is everything he was scared of.

and it does ruin him! it's terrible! so his romance with LWJ is everything his feelings for JC weren't. He's not the one doing the protecting. LWJ doesn't question him. There are no expectations of anything, no discussions of the future, no thoughts of society. LWJ is just such a comfort, just a good thing WWX gets because he wants it. Also LWJ isn't emotionally taxing af (this is a big one). (WWX kinda ends up YZY-ing himself at the end of the book but I'm not thinking about that.)

WWX's utter toxicity toward JC. not a iota of respect for either JC or JC's boundaries to be found, except when convenient for WWX.

they both really, really believe that WWX is better than JC in every way. it's very cool

look. i'm a simple person. arrogant genius jerk/grumpy dutiful tsundere otp.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I love the joke that chengxian isn't incest but both of them wish it were, but I think the only time one of them wished they were brothers was JC when he decided to sacrifice himself for WWX and he was lying in bed making morbid jokes. At least sacrificing yourself for your brother who is the better cultivator and can lead the sect would be simple. Forgivable. Good.

I also think they might grow to think of one another as brothers at some point post-canon, that's a sort of reconciliation that might happen, but to me it's key that during canon they don't know what they are to one another, they just know they're scarily, terrifyingly important, and there's no word for what they are to one another.

JC refused shixiong-shidi (in a shocking reversal of their normal dynamic, I think he forgot he did that and spent roughly two decades feeling insecure and weird that WWX doesn't call him shidi) and they can be nothing else, socially speaking. The love that dare not speak its name, if you would. And at that same time post-canon they could also decide that what they're to each other is that WWX used to be in love with JC, and maybe JC still is, and they're not brothers. Or maybe both! The point is, the definition of their relationship is uncharted waters and they never thought of each other as 'brothers' (much less called each other that).

2) WWX is incredibly bitter and resentful of giving his core to JC and that colors everything he thinks and says about JC afterwards, including after he's returned to life. Basically, he gave, and gave, and gave, and felt there was no gratitude, and he's unable to live the life he wanted, unable to reap the promises life made him, and JC isn't any more agreeable or tractable than before (less so, in fact!). It's not fair.

#chengxian #ask meme

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000yul · 4 months ago

Text

some thoughts on the chinese title of here a people sows: 怀黍离

oh boy is this title loaded with meaning. i'm not an expert or anything, so this is just my own personal speculation and research.

event spoilers below

first of all, getting the low-hanging fruit out of the way, 黍 is shu's name, meaning millet.

黍离 ('millet droops low') is a poem from 诗经, an ancient collection. and by ancient, i do mean old as balls—it dates from the 11th to the 7th century BCE. here's two different translations of the poem in question. from the first link:

Millet with grain droops low; Sorghum attends the blade. So slowly I go through; My heart is so dismayed. He who knows me says I'm distraught. He who doesn't asks if I'm seeking aught. O vast, almighty blue sky, Who on earth caused this and why? Millet with grain droops low; Sorghum is in the ear. So slowly I go through; My heart feels drunk and drear. He who knows me says I'm distraught. He who doesn't asks if I'm seeking aught. O vast, almighty blue sky, Who on earth caused this and why? Millet with grain droops low; Sorghum is in the grain. So slowly I go through; My heart is choked with pain. He who knows me says I'm distraught. He who doesn't asks if I'm seeking aught. O vast, almighty blue sky, Who on earth caused this and why?

well! that's pretty depressing! the themes of grief basically jump out! apt for a woman who trapped herself in a thousand-year purgatory of self-destruction! there's no way she didn't know what planting those northern seeds would do there's no way

next, on 离. in the poem above, 离 is used to describe the grain (drooping), but the far more common every day meaning of the word is 'depart.' so, 黍离 - shu's departure. (i don't think 离 on its own alludes to death, but given that shu's death and departure are inextricable in the story, i can't think of one without thinking of the other...)

now, 怀. to think of; to keep in your heart. a sentimental remembrance. now this is nastily ironic considering the nature of how the sui siblings die (really hard to kill but if they do die they're forgotten, to the extent that even their works disappear from the earth).

before we put it all together. back to the poem

the first link from above has some additional historical context: the poem is about a millet field that has taken the place of an old, dilapidated imperial palace. it's a lament on lost glory, so i wonder if the choice of poem is also meant to allude to sui itself (the lost imperial palace to shu's millet field). i'm actually hesitant about this conclusion, because it's not actually clear to me that any of the siblings yearn for that past glory over all else—even wang. (ji is sentimentally motivated, and more benign than he appears at first glance, though he's still a grey kinda guy. wang's motivations are wrapped up in grief, and we don't know entirely what went down with jie, the dead sister, still, but it almost feels at times that wang wants freedom for the sui siblings more than anything else. but freedom is tied to power is tied to glory, so...)

one more thing. I'm assuming millet droops when it's just about ready to harvest, so i feel like there's an additional bittersweet layer to all of this, of the past, long-lost glory being replaced by something humble, but important and practical—a fruitful harvest for all. sui's grand power, harnessed by yan (in this case, shu in particular)...

so, the various possible meanings of 怀黍离, put together:

remembering shu's departure

in memory of shu?

remembering the drooping millet (and by extension, what it has replaced)

anyway, this is all just me trying to put pieces together. these thoughts aren't particularly organised but what the hell. if you read to the end, cheers

#arknights #thanks to my friend who told me about 黍离 in the first place #what a ride #i have so many more thoughts about the event tbh we'll see what form they take

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mikodrawnnarratives · 1 year ago

Text

TW (IMPLIED) CHARACTER DEATH

TW BLOOD

(not graphic blood but I'll still tag it just in case)

@naffeclipse

Might want to turn up your brightness for this one fellas

This is Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Extra

(might end up being three parts actually lol)

(my script is like 3-4 pages long so....)

Long post under the cut

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.

Take me back to the night we met.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

- The night we met by Lord Hurdon

This comic stems from my need for them to have a satisfying conclusion OKAY

I mean it's bittersweet but at least they make up (to a degree)

Explanation below (kind of spoiling next part) (kindof almost not really idk):

After being dangerously injured by a cryptid, Vanessa managed to contact the one person she wished she could have said goodbye to the most.

I'll explain more about why Vanessa is the way she is in the next part but without spoiling, Vanessa has grown a little since the last time she saw y/n. That, in combination with the fact she's bleeding out and taking on the mentality "fuck it why not", has led her to this decision.

This comic kinda goes off of the idea she gets an inkling of doubt in her mind about whether y/n is still "alive".

The next part will go into it more but that doubt mixed with her resolve leads her to at least try.

She tries to call y/n. They don't answer. She sends a text and no longer has the strength to hold on to her phone.

I don't think she'll be completely resolved to Vampires having actual consciousness but in her last moments she's also just wishing for her friend back. Her human friend. The one who has been dead all this time. Vanessa has a history with seeing ghosts so

It's worth a try

I'll let you decide which phone of y/n's she tried to contact.

Assuming y/n unblocked her on their previous phone at some point

So yeah, Vanessa in this comic is going back and forth on whether this is y/n or not. She's bleeding out, so does it really matter?

It's almost selfish how much she wishes to be free of the ache in her chest. The fact in the end, she couldn't free her friend.

You'll see more of this in the next part. I don't want to spoil it too much.

She doesn't wish to carry this burden of failing her friend. She reaches for a conclusion. She wants this to end well. She wants her friend to be okay. She wants to believe everything has worked out. She wants everyone she cares about to be okay without her.

She'll throw out her wish to the world. And hopefully, it'll come true.

She'll throw out her wish to you.

It is you.

Right?

I may have spoiled the next part a little bit oopsies

I just want to explain why Vanessa's different y'know

And y/n has their own conflicting emotions.

Even when things are a semblance of normal, it can't be. They are a vampire now. It tears them up inside.

But. Vanessa lets them touch her.

They've been afraid to do that. For the entirety of this reunion cut short.

She lets them touch her.

And again, Vanessa wouldn't be this way if... it weren't for a few somebodies.

But that's enough spoiling the next part.

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itsgrimeytime · 2 years ago

Text

The Nurse (Part Five) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @t-uroboros @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @pascalshearts @hopefulatrocity @xoyouronlyamorrxo @fuseburner @idkseraphine @all-for-kpop @carlgrimeskisser @emo-potato-virgil @timotheesrealgf

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, angst, angsty!Rick, hallucinations, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: Much happier vibes this time around, but I figured a story like this one should be a little bittersweet. This one has got the good stuff. (Farmer Rick, patching up his wounds, TENSION, etc.) Also sorry if you're good at juggling, this is no longer realistic for you lol. Thank you for reading. ]]

"Alright," you hummed, bandaging up the hand, "-just try and keep the bandage clean, we're really only worried about infection."

Glenn nodded, simply just listening to you, "Right."

"Oh," you remembered, grabbing up just two bandages and antiseptic, "-and here's some replacements, just in case you get into something that can't wait."

"Got it," Glenn spoke, standing and kind of roaming towards the door, "-and how often should I check in with you?"

"Once a week," you answered, "-just to make sure the inflammation has gone down."

With confirmation and a smile that only Glenn could produce on prison grounds, your space was empty. You'd had a makeshift area down in one of the front offices of the prison because, well, the medbay was currently... off limits, so to speak. Your most important supplies, though, stayed on your person -certain medicine types and a few medical instruments in a fanny pack often hanging over your shoulder (unless you needed your hands).

You sighed, wiping your hands off with a spare rag, pushing your fingers into your temples for a bit of headache relief. It wasn't hurting in that moment, but you could feel the pressure building, keeping an eye on yourself was hard enough as is.

It was really not the time.

Muttering, you rifled through a few of your drawers -trying to keep track of the supplies was key to this working out in the long run. So, you were running through what you'd given out and what you still had. Eager to make lists for runners later on in the week.

Hershel still helped sometimes, so you couldn't always get the amount used down to a science, but you could get close enough. It worked.

"Hello?" a voice spoke, the drawl ever so familiar to you, "-Anybody in here?"

You, who were currently ducked behind a cabinet rifling through supplies, didn't even think about the fact you weren't visible, calling out, "Just a minute!"

"Alright," Rick hummed in response, seeming to trail off in his speech -looking at something else you assumed.

"Okay," you scribbled down some more numbers, before coming to eye level with Rick -focused and a touch playful, "-So, what can I do for you today, Mr. Grimes?"

Rick smiled, light and airy, "Mr. Grimes, huh? 'Been a long time since I heard that one."

You looked at him, donned in a plaid shirt and sweat dripping down his face -hands dusted in dirt, and pants even worse. But still, his blue eyes twinkled. Ever since he'd started to work on the farm, you'd seen that haze clear. He seemed to find it calming, easier to manage. You were happy for him.

"Too professional for you?" You hummed, trailing your fingers along some of the bandages -keeping count in your head.

Rick smiled before muttering off -tone soft and reminiscent, "Just feels like a different time."

The lull in conversation brought you back to the issue at hand, Rick was one to work as long as he could. Doing only a few checkups throughout the day, he'd found himself busy often. Or you guessed, you found him busy often; that was very much on purpose, though.

"Alright, enough of that, what do you need from me?" You questioned, fully focused on him now; the man had a tendency to under sell his injuries, so you'd need to see it.

"Hershel told me to come see you," he spoke, drawl slow and sure, "-I fell on one of the runs recently. Got a scratch on my chest. He patched it up a little, but-"

"He wanted me to take a look?"

"Yeah," Rick confirmed as you motioned to a chair -dousing your hands with some antibacterial.

He was sitting on a stool, one someone probably found in an old bar, the leather was worn, and the metal squeaked loud any time you so much as breathed. It would work.

You took your place beside him, pulling out some extra bandages, "Which side? And what exactly did Hershel do?"

"My right," he answered, and you moved to that side, "-and just cleaned it and bandaged it up tight."

"Okay," you noted, grabbing a few extra things (most likely looking like a chicken with your head cut off) before spinning around. Where he was sitting as still as a statue, "-Rick? You okay?"

He blinked, eyes cleared of the daze he'd apparent found himself in, "Oh, yeah, sorry. It's just... nice."

"Nice?" You questioned, furrowing your eyebrows together, and pulling up your own stool close to him.

"You," he paused, before stuttering through the rest -hand going to rub at the back of his neck, "-bein' in your element, I mean."

"Oh," you responded, softly -ignoring the soft blush rising to your ears, "-well, thank you."

He smiled at you, and the silent buzz was nice, warm even. You really couldn't dwell on it, though, not sitting this close to him.

"Alright, cowboy," you spoke, "-let's see."

Rolling his eyes at 'cowboy', you assumed anyway, his hands made quick work of the edge of the shirt, pulling it up in a swift movement. Just an edge.

You held your breath, watching as unblemished skin matched your eyes, and suddenly, you realized that it was much higher than you'd anticipated. So, that wasn't going to work.

"Rick, I'm not pressuring you into anything, but-" you spoke, kind and soft, this was a personal boundary, you'd treat it as such, "-I think the shirt's going to have to come off."

There was a moment there, where he just stared at you in silence -eyes focused and intent- and you were truly worried you'd just crossed a boundary.

"If you're not comfortable with that-"

"No, no," he shook the motion off, clearing his throat to himself -to clear the air maybe, "-it's alright. Just been a while."

You laughed, tilting your head a bit in curiousity, "Since what, exactly? Since you took your shirt off? Rick, you did that yesterday-"

"Oh?" he hummed, a smirk peeking at his lips, "-Didn't know I had an audience."

"Ha, ha-" you rolled your eyes, ignoring the buzz of warmth that hit your cheeks -he could not see that, "-you're just stalling."

Rick raised his hands in defeat, smiling at you in a way that you wish you could keep for yourself for later. His smiles had always been so bright, you supposed that was why you could notice when it was absent for a while.

Digging through your bag, you saw movement out of the corner of your eye, the fluid motion quick -so quick you'd hardly noticed it, really. He'd done it enough, you assumed.

Not the time, you chastised yourself, not letting your mind linger on that fact. Not now, you were professional.

"Okay," you pulled out some of the materials you may need, "Let's see what you've-"

Your eyes flew up to see his chest, which was bandaged, wrapped tightly around his sternum. They had gone over his right shoulder and under his left arm, the blood stain just a bit under his collar bone and down from there. It didn't seem too long, based solely on the pattern.

You were completely focused now, eyes drawn across the bandage and fingers dancing along the stain, "Did Hershel tell you how deep it was?"

"No," Rick answered, and it took you a bit out of you to hear him so close -drawl low and gravely, "-we didn't have much time. Needed to stop the blood, I'd guess."

Fingertips fluttering over the torn edges of the bandages, you could feel the heat of his skin a breath away. You pursed your lips, these bandages were quite worn, "And when was this?"

"About a week ago," Rick answered.

"Rick..."

"I know, I hear you," he started, explaining himself, "-it was the last run, ran over a bit. Had to camp out, remember?"

You hummed in confirmation -relaxing in the slightest, before continuing, "Did you have somebody check it then?"

"Couldn't chance it," he explained, tone soft and earnest, "-any fresh blood woulda been dangerous."

"Okay," you exhaled, "-okay. I understand, Rick, you shouldn't have to explain yourself to me."

Rick interrupted tone solid and unwavering, "I want to. You should- No, I want you to know."

"Okay," you whispered, softly, a bit speechless at the admitance, "-thank you."

There was a fizzling there, as you sat a breath away from him -fingers laid gently on his chest and barely a bandage between your fingertips and his skin. You could even feel the heat there, gentle gusts against your fingertips.

You took the biggest breath you could take without startling the man, deep and focused. Not the time to let your mind wonder.

"Okay, I just need-" you pulled back, the fizzle dissipating and began searching for one of your sharp edges... particularly one you could wipe down ahead of time, "-here it is."

Within seconds, you'd doused the instrument in whatever you could nearby, wiping it solidly with a cloth that has been safely sealed ahead of time.

"You're fast," Rick spoke up, eyes apparently watching you as your roamed around the room -gathering a few extra things in case of worst case scenario.

"You'll get used to it," you smiled, chuckling and making your way back to the chair -where he sat, his own little smile on his face, "-Alright, so, first order of business, Rick."

He blinked, and sat up a bit straighter in your gaze.

"If anything hurts, you tell me," you asserted, eyes connected to his directly, "-this will go as comfortably as it can."

"'Course," he answered, serious and eyes unwavering, before cracking a smile, "-plus, can't disobey doctor's orders, can I?"

You snorted, scooting in closer and trying to find a comfortable place to start, "Whatever you say, Grimes."

He laughed, small but still felt nice against your ears and on instinct, you smiled brightly. He was contagious. To you, anyway.

With a steady hand on the tool and the other gently holding his shoulder, you gently pressed it along the bandage. The threads unweaving themselves with the movement, almost like a seam breaking, it seemed quite fluid.

Gently peeling back the bandages, which were solidly tightened around his skin, your fingers drifted across the newly exposed skin. Even for just a second and your heart would jump out of your chest. You held the hitch in your breath without thought -you really needed to be focused right now.

And there it was.

The cut wasn't too much to look at. It was thin -the edges were a bit dirty from the worn bandage you assumed. No telltale symptoms of infection, you let out a hum of relief.

"Good," you spoke, mostly to yourself, leaning back from his space -sorting through your supplies.

Rick spoke, questioning, "Everything alright?"

"All good," you answered, hands preoccupied, "-just needs a bit of cleaning up. You're lucky, though. It's healing on its own."

"Lucky?" he hummed, watching you move across the space -eyes trailing behind you.

"Would've needed stitches, otherwise," you answered, dousing the cloth in your hands, "-although, I'm sure a scar would fit you well, cowboy."

Rick chuckled, motioning towards his other shoulder, "Already got one."

You paused, looking towards the shoulder; there it was. The wound you knew him from. It reminded you of so long ago, your coworkers, your friends, your boss-

"Right," you hummed, settling down back into your chair, "-I remember."

He shook his head, a little in disbelief, "Right, you were there."

"I was," with a distant hum, you pushed forward -warning before you started, "This might sting a bit. Feel free to keep talking if it helps. I'm told I'm a good listener."

"Oh, really?" his tone quirked in interest, and you could feel the familiar playfulness seep into his tone.

"What? You don't think so?" you questioned, gently dabbing at the cut -soft and gentle.

"No," he began, voice smooth and gravelly, "-just wonderin' what you aren't good at."

"Well, I could tell you that, cowboy," you smirked -the peek of a smile on your lips, "-if that's what you want."

He chuckled, slightly wincing as you cleaned the skin around the cut, "I'm all ears."

"Hmm, let's see," you hummed, pulling back and unraveling some bandages, "-I've never been good at juggling."

Rick laughed, his body leaning forward, his shoulder bumping into yours. There was a buzz there, between your skin and his - and your nose filled with the familiar smell of just... musk, strong wood tones, and a bit of dirt.

You blinked, bringing yourself back down from your head, where Rick was looking at you with a smile -the crinkling by his eyes sending warmth through your skin, "What?"

"Juggling?" He questioned, "That's all you got?"

"No," you laughed, pulling out the bandage and holding your hand in the beginning place of the wrap, "-you didn't let me finish."

"Go right ahead," he spoke, his tone lilting to a tease -you knew it well.

"Don't try me, Grimes," you tsked, before rearranging your hands, to hold the bandage in place, "-here, hold this."

Unflinchingly, he moved his hand where yours was -his fingertips (calloused) brushing against yours with a spark. You try to school your facial expression, cursing at the rising pink on your cheeks. Just because he was pretty and the low drawl of his voice was insanely attractive-

"Okay," you threaded the bandage around his shoulder, leveling to his eyes but not looking there -preoccupied with the placement, "-now. Something I'm not good at... You know, I used to think I wasn't good with kids."

"Really?" Rick asked, disbelieving, and you could feel his breath on your face -puffs of breath across the bridge of your nose.

"Yeah," you answered, humming as your hands completed the motion, "-why? You don't believe it?"

"I don't," He answered, simply and honestly, "-just... You with Judith and Carl... I'm surprised you ever thought you were bad at it."

"Well," you hummed, feeling oddly flattered, "-thank you."

"No, actually-" he began, tone a bit unresolved, "-I never... I never thanked you for taking care 'em. When I was..."

"Rick..." you interrupted, looking into his eyes -attentive and gentle, "-you don't have to."

"No, no, I do," his voice was thick with earnestness, "-I wasn't. I couldn't even think straight... And you- And everybody took care of 'em for me. You deserve a thanks."

You faltered, blue eyes so open and honest -it was so familiar, the same stare burned in your head so long ago. The one you couldn't shake as you watched over him when the world was falling apart, still stuck to your brain as you ran through the woods scared of every step you heard.

It would never leave, not now.

There was a cut along his cheekbone, thin, maybe from a tree branch snapping in his face. Your hand almost naturally went to it, to trace it with your fingertips. You held it back, fingers tightening on the bandage slightly.

"Rick," you hummed, holding your hand where it was -despite your instincts being elsewhere, "-it's really nothing. I'd do anything for them. For you, even. You needed your time, I'm not- You're a great father, you just couldn't be one then. So I helped, really."

He stared at you, eyes bright and warm -he looked like he was just analyzing you. Eyes skimming across your face in rapid succession, like he was trying to understand you, dissect you.

"Okay," he sighed, a hand laying on top of yours -soft, gentle, it sent a shiver down your spine, "-okay."

You exhaled, shaky and your head filled with a fuzz of intimacy, affection, that you hadn't felt in so... long. You felt safe, here with him. Seen amidst the darkest things you'd ever laid eyed on was Rick, and his open vulnerability that you could never shake.

Slow breathing, you had a thought. Just one thought and your eyes almost dipped to his lips. It felt so natural then, just lean a bit forward and-

Clearing your throat, you shook your head before scooting back just a touch -you couldn't think, not with him so close. The buzz under your skin was so strong, and you sat a breath away, it was easy to fall into it.

"Let's uh-" you stammered slightly, "Let's get you patched up, okay?"

Rick swallowed (you watched his Adam's apple bob for a second before dragging your eyes away), eyes darted to yours for a split second, and he nodded.

Without much more thought, you tightened the bandage around his chest -enough to allow it to heal without exposure. As the bandage ran thin, you carefully lifted his hand, which was heavily calloused from the days work against your own, and sorted out the ends.

Just like you'd done it often, rhythmically.

"Keep an eye on that," you spoke, pulling back and sorting through your supplies, "-if anything, and I mean anything feels wrong, come to me."

Rick hummed, eyes hazily focused on you -it kind of made you giddy, "'Course."

"You sure you listening?" You asked, smirking to yourself, "Everything alright?"

"Just... you too," he spoke, tone cautious and honest.

"What?" You tilted your head, turning around to view him in your curious.

"The headache," he hummed, not standing up yet -as he slipped on his flannel, hands working on the buttons.

"How-" you began, pursing your lips, "How did you-"

"Saw ya on the way in, with the temples," he added, fingers working their way up the shirt, nimble and practiced, "-high time you took a break, you know."

"I have," you spoke, stuttering a bit, "-I am."

Rick smirked, bright and boisterous, "Is that when you're lookin' at me shirtless?"

"Yeah, yeah," you hushed him, waving him off with a passive smile and a blush buzzing up your cheeks, "-get your laughs out now, cowboy."

He laughed, trailing towards the door but not stepping out of it -feet stayed solidly in your space, like he didn't really want to leave. It made you bite back a smile.

"But, seriously-" Rick continued, smile fading slightly and eyes leveling to yours as he put his hand on your shoulder, and leaned forward to brush his lips across your forehead -his words exhaling along your skin.

"There's people who care about you, ya know?"

"Okay," you whispered, placing your hand over his on your shoulder, "-okay."

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #the nurse #nurse!reader #doctor!reader

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