#like henry!!!!!! get back here i have questions for you!!!!!

[martiniblues]

JUNO , spencer reid

pairing boyfriend!spencer x fem!reader

synopsis while babysitting henry for jj, spencer’s seeming disinterest with children starts to shift. this makes your mind wonder into unfamiliar territory you and spencer hadn’t spoken of yet: kids.

genre talks of pregnancy and children (duh), very suggestive towards the end but no smut, this is very self indulgent since i can’t get this song or spencer off my mind so here you go lol.

wc 2k?? (i got a little carried away)

“sorry for this being so last minute!" jj scrambled, passing henry over to you along with his diaper bag. the blonde ran a hand through her short hair, adjusting from where the two-year-old played with it upon their arrival. 

“it’s all good, seriously. you know how much i love babysitting this cute thing.” you tickled henry’s side, making him squirm. 

jj’s eyes averted to the figure behind you, pursing her lips. “you sure he’s okay with this?” you turned your head, noticing spencer trying to look at the two of you without being noticed. 

it’s not that spencer didn’t like kids; it’s just hard to know how to talk to them when you were a child genius. 

you turned back to jj, attempting to ease her worry. “he’ll come around to it.” you shrugged, knowing that spencer would either sit and observe or fully engage. no in between.

after bidding your goodbyes, you walked over to spencer, taking a seat beside him on the couch. “so what should we do, little man?” you perched henry in your lap, resting your feet on the coffee table so he could sit against your perched thighs. 

spencer looked at you as if he were the “little man” in question. henry just babbled, throwing his arms around as you cooed. “what do we do with him?” spencer asked, leaning closer into your shoulder to inspect the baby in your lap. 

you laughed at his seriousness, turning to look at your boyfriend. “have you never been around a baby in your life or something?” you teased, lifting henry so he was closer to you both.

“did you know that babies are born with about seventy reflexes? that’s why when you place a baby on a surface to stand, they automatically start doing a stepping motion.” he spoke, watching henry kick his legs as you stood him on your lap. you looked over at him quizzically. “for someone who’s so awkward around babies, you sure do know a lot about them.” 

spencer flushed slightly, “i just haven’t had the chance to be around any until now.” he nudges your shoulder before crossing his arms. 

“well, here’s your chance.” you held henry out to spencer, which made him squirm and mumble yet again. “hold him while i go bring his bag in here.” 

he hesitated, looking between you and the baby as if this were a test. yet, despite the nervousness, he reached out, mimicking your position earlier. when you were content with how henry laid on spencer’s legs, you walked out of the room.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t purposely take your time collecting his things, wanting spencer to have some alone time with henry. finally satisfied with your departure, you peaked your head into the room, nearly melting at the sight. 

the once stiff and nervous spencer you had left with henry was now replaced with a content, smiling one. his voice went up a few pitches as he responded to henry’s nonsense. “oh wow, really?” his lips were pulled into a smile as he played with him, letting henry’s small hand encase his slender fingers. 

you couldn’t help but let your head wander; how could you not? sure you thought about a future with spencer. a future where you were married and maybe with kids, but you had never brought it up being too nervous to scare spencer off.

but now watching him light up with henry in his lap, you wanted nothing more than for your daydreams to become reality. 

“someone wants you back in here, i think.” you snapped out of your daze, focusing on the two sets of eyes staring at you. both holding the same smiles and wide eyes. 

god, you swore you felt your ovaries jump.

“i see that you two are getting along now.” you placed henry’s diaper bag on the table, sitting yourself on the ground before laying out his blanket and a few toys. spencer joined you, placing henry on his stomach, then laid beside you, mirroring the baby’s position. 

“who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?” you laughed, in awe of how much spencer had adjusted to the small being in just a matter of minutes.

he looked up at you as he shook a little plushie in front of henry’s face. “sorry to disappoint, but this is still your boyfriend,” spencer quipped before you pushed his head jokingly, messing up his hair in the process. 

the sound of high-pitched squeals took both of your attentions away from one another. there henry lay, clapping his hands in favor of you and spencer’s playful fighting. 

“yeah, you like when i show him who’s boss, huh?” you caressed the soft skin of henry’s cheek, making him giggle. spencer sighed, “come on, man, i thought we were really becoming friends” he exasperated, laying his head in his hands dramatically.

this only brought more squeals from the baby, making your cheeks almost grow sore from how hard you were smiling. 

“awe spence, it’s okay.” you egged on your act by petting his hair back into place. this caused your boyfriend to lift his head; a big pout on his lips made yours perk up. 

with your attention being taken away from henry by spencer’s rare expression, you hadn’t noticed the stuffed animal caught between the baby’s hands. before you could do anything, the small bear was chucked into spencer’s face, causing an uproar of noises from henry.

“i’m starting to question this whole babysitting thing.” spencer winced, looking at you as you laughed along with henry. 

 

despite the teasing from earlier, spencer continued to be enamored with henry. him even insisting he help feed and change him when time came.

the whole ordeal feeling so domestic, apart of you wished jj could have spent a couple more days for her and will in favor of you seeing spencer like this for longer.

“thank you, again for taking care of him.” jj propped her hip against the counter as she fumbled for her phone out of her purse.

“of course, it really was no problem.” you turned at the sound of spencer’s soft voice, thanking henry for “helping” him clean.

“honestly, i think someone enjoyed this a bit more than we thought.” you gestured at spencer as he settled henry on his hip, the baby grasping onto his button-up shirt. 

your whole body ran hot at sight. spencer looked really good as a pretend dad. 

“no kidding, the team is going to flip when i show them the pictures you took of them.” she glanced at her phone, noting the off-guard photos you stole of spencer and henry. 

one was of him feeding him as he walked around the living room, another of him explaining some of the books organized on his shelves in a very formal fashion despite henry’s lack of knowledge, and finally one of them eye-to-eye playing on the floor with various toys. 

your heart swelled looking back at them, the questions you had been so careful not to ask begging to be verbalized. 

before you could sink any further, spencer came over, handing jj henry and his bag almost reluctantly. noticing the time, jj was quick to leave in order to keep the baby’s sleeping schedule on track but thanked you guys repeatedly before finally closing the door. 

clicking the lock shut, you mentally prepared yourself for the words about to come out of your mouth. 

“you had more fun than you bargained for, didn’t you?” you met spencer on the couch, him reaching out to pull your legs over his, making your heart leap. 

“i did, actually.” spencer began smoothing his hands up and down your calf before continuing. “honestly when you mentioned henry coming over, i was a little- i don’t know scared? i just didn’t want to disappoint him or you.” he bit his lip like he was stopping himself from letting the whole truth out. 

“oh spence, you were perfect. honestly, i’m very proud of you.” you reached out, caressing the side of his face, causing him to look at you. 

he noticed your wondering eyes, waiting for you to continue. “actually i um…” you shifted pulling your legs under yourself so you could sit up. 

breathing in deeply, you continued, “today kind of got me thinking about us and our future.” spencer was looking at you with such admiration that you had fixed your gaze on your hands.

“i know we haven’t really brought it up before, but seeing you and henry today had me-“ 

before you could finish, spencer’s lips were pressed against yours, resulting in a shocked gasp from you. he kissed you, mumbling words each time his lips parted to take yours in again. 

“i want that, i really do.” he breathed, finally separating from you for just a moment. 

“you want what, spence?” you were in shock, to be honest, knowing what he meant but wanting to hear him say it word for word. 

without another word, he positioned you in his lap, legs straddling his own. “i want a family with you. i want a sliver of what we had today to become ours one day.” his eyes didn’t break from yours, his pupils blown wide and sparkly.

for the thousandth time that day, you had to bite back a smile. “you mean that?” you questioned, one hand coming to comb through his hair and the other resting on his neck. 

he kissed your cheek, forehead, nose, and finally your lips before he spoke. “every single one. i mean, one of you is cute.” he cupped your cheek as he spoke. “but two though? that’s something.” he finished, smirking at you. 

you couldn’t contain your happiness, crashing his lips to yours again feverishly. even though you knew the both of you were in no place to have a kid now, there was no harm in playing with the fantasy for now. 

even if the real thing wouldn’t come to be for a good few years.

spencer pulled you flush against him, one his hands leaving your hips to trail up your spine and settle onto the back of your neck. a moan slipped past your lips as goosebumps erupted on your skin. 

you pulled on his shirt, hinting at where this was going as if it weren’t obvious to the man beneath you. he looked up at you, kissing you once more before dragging you to your shared bed. 

your blouse and shorts were off before your back hit the sheets, spencer still standing ahead of you unbuttoning his work shirt. 

you sat up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed to take over. after each undone button, you kissed his skin, making him gasp as his fingers raked through your hair. 

pulling his shirt all the way off, you made your way to his pants, pulling him closer by his belt loop. you bit your lip, noticing the gears turning in his head.

“you know statistics say missionary or doggy are the best positions to get pregnant in.” spencer let out in shallow breaths as his belt clinked on the floor. 

“oh, yeah and why is that genius?” you leaned back on your elbows while spencer finished removing himself of his pants. he took you in, the tiny pink bow on your underwear made spencer rethink his crude response. 

“deeper penetration,” he said almost too smoothly, making you laugh. it was hard to take statistics seriously when you were both nearly naked. 

before he could settle above you, you shimmied up the bed. ridding yourself of the rest of your clothes, you positioned yourself on your hands. looking over your shoulder, you saw the way spencer’s eyes widened in shock.

“have you ever tried this one?”

my first spencer fic omg. lowk crazy because i’ve been obsessed with this man since the ripe age of 12 but here we are. will probably be writing a lot more of him since im rewatching cm at the moment so stay tuned! request box is always open <333

[acheronist]

hey! i saw your post about “he was a marine by the cut of his big” and the first thing i thought is i know he wrote in inverse and obviously it would be confusing and you’d probably forget or skip words from time to time, i think he likely meant to write “the cut of his gib” as in “he was a marine based on his overall appearance/way he looked” :)

ohhh omg i hadn’t read it that way at all but that’s so interesting!!! HENRY!!!! 'the cut of his gib' does make a lot of sense like i just had a very crazy moment of second-guessing myself LMAO but nearly all of this & the next facing page were written in the backwards code system he made up, excluding like… 7~10 words for both pages? and big/gib is the last word on the page + it's kind of hard to tell if there is a period to end the phrase or if what i Think could be a period is actually just a spot of damage along the crease of the paper.... so i can't tell if that's the whole sentence or not....... it just feels kind of unlikely to me that he’d suddenly drop the pattern in that exact spot???? no source very little evidence it’s just how i feel 🧐💌🤷🏻‍♀️⁉️ also i don't think after four lines of getting the backwards script done at 100% he's gonna randomly give up and phone it in on the last word of the page lmfao

fwiw also, russell a. potter’s transcription (where he’s cited that he didn’t have much to improve upon re: a.g.e jones & richard cyriax transcriptions of the pages either) also reads this portion as “wos a marine By the cut of his big” so that also makes me feel a bit more certain !?

but 'cut of his gib' definitely does make more sense as like... a normal phrase he'd genuinely say as opposed to like... y'know, the higher up officers writing in with a very proper queen's english type of language. like oh well yes of course he'd be using the language that a working class sailor would use!!! but also he was 🤏🏻juuuuuust Probably Dyslexic enough with his spelling that now i'm also wondering if he might have gotten a j/g noise mixed up in the 'cut of his jib' slang. hm. also i was just wondering if this phrase was even popular around the 1840s (it was) BUT I JUST REALIZED IT COMES FROM A SAILING TERM ORIGINALLY!!!! that's crazy i had no idea.... okay so anyways that also definitely lends credit towards "the cut of his jib" being in his vernacular

oh something else i'm thinking about now is like... a lot of his Full Pages are organized on a slight slant? like he had the paper angled a bit While he wrote, but also he started squeezing the words in together as he neared the end of the pages.... so that might have something to do with if it's a full sentence or not.... running out of literal space on the paper mid-sentence..... the arrangement of letters is obviously important to him in other places (the spirals etc) so that might be something..... i dunnooooo….

MUCH TO CONSIDER! i fear we may have to bust out the ouija board and get henry to explain himself & read his shitty handwriting for us

[first-ex-wife]

actually when you look at the start of the season where Ted’s wondering if he’s still needed there, the best arc for him would have been to SEE everything they still have to do, to take not having won it all as a sign there’s more to accomplish, create new ties in the community or be reminded of how much his current relationships mean, how much more time he might want to reconnect with Nate or spend with Beard & Rebecca, etc., and to talk to Michelle about working things out to maybe see Henry more, because he is not stalled at Richmond, he’s just getting started. ideally with a theme throughout about how he doesn’t NEED to be USEFUL as long as he’s enjoying himself, that he needs to have his own fulfillment too, but that, yes, working more on the team is something that could give him that!!

[nereidprinc3ss]

i keep you clean; you surrounded me

in which husband!spencer reid spirals after realizing he can't be your daughter's hero forever.

angst, fluff warnings/tags: this fic is about spencer's past addiction, and how he's afraid it will impact his relationship with his daughter, conversation about alcohol, this is a fix-it fic for my life, ends on a hopeful/positive note, lots of self-loathing from Spencer, uses the phrase "shooting up", PLEASE do not read if this is going to upset you!! PLEASE!! fem!reader a/n: this felt healing in a way for me but that might not be your experience reading if you also have issues with a parent with addiction so please tread lightly and make the right choices for you. CHOOSE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH OVER MY DUMB FANFIC I CAN'T STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! and ily

“Daddy?”

Ada’s not asking for you, but you look to her anyway. She’s squeezed between you and Spencer on Rossi’s swing, and her cheeks are still feverish—remnants of a recent and rather hysterical fit of giggles. She has a glass of lemonade between her little hands (you’re trusting her with a big girl cup, if only because it’s not your glass or your house) and she peers into it intently. Her little grass-stained feet kick. Spencer pushes the swing back ever so slightly, for her entertainment. 

“Huh?”

She holds her glass up for him. 

“Our drinks are the same color.”

“They are,” he nods. “Do you like yellow?”

Ada shrugs. It’s exaggerated—one of her favorite moves as of late. “It’s okay.”

Spencer glances at you like he always does when he sees glimpses of you in your child, eyes sparkling as if her opinionated and bluntly honest nature is in any way reminiscent of you. 

“Yeah, I agree. Yellow is just okay.”

She leans against him and he’s quick to accommodate her, affectionately brushing his knuckles over your bare shoulder as he slings his arm across the back of the swing. 

“Daddy?”

“What, lovebug?”

You smile, letting your head fall back and your eyes close. The sun is warm on your face. 

“Mommy’s drink is red.”

Nothing gets past her. Rossi had pushed the drink into your hand almost the second you stepped through the door, insisting it would go well with lunch. It sits otherwise untouched on the glass table. 

Spencer hums. The swing rocks gently. 

“That’s because she’s not having lemonade like us. She’s having a grownup drink.”

“Oh.”

You think that’s the end of it, that she’s satisfied with the answer, until another moment passes, and her voice, sweet as the tinkle of little fairy bells, is posing a very loaded question. 

“Why don’t you ever have grownup drinks? Me and you always have the same.”

Spencer’s already looking at you, brows drawn as you sit up. Your eyes, open now, go wide, and you shake your head slightly to signal you have no idea how he’s supposed to respond either. 

His hand goes to Ada’s hair, gently scratching her scalp as his eyes dart over your face. You can see the gears turning in his head. This is one of very few things he clearly didn’t read about in any of the literature on raising kids when you were pregnant. 

“I… some people don’t like grownup drinks.”

It’s an inadequate answer, especially coming from Spencer—just this morning he explained to Ada why the sky is blue. Rayleigh scattering. Blue light scatters more than any other kind of light. Which then led to an impromptu lesson on oxygen molecules and other basic chemistry in the car on the way here. 

So there are standards. 

“Why not?”

You interrupt, unable to watch Spencer flounder any longer. “Ada, why don’t you go see what Henry and JJ and Uncle Dave are doing? That looks fun, right?”

You gesture down the yard to where JJ and Rossi are teaching Henry to play cornhole. 

She looks at you with big brown eyes—the set of them, the color—those are all Spencer.

“Can you and daddy come?”

You straighten out her dress and take the half-full glass from her little hands, setting it next to your own on the table. 

“In a minute. Go ahead.”

Spencer’s hand slips from her hair as she pushes off the swing and bounds down the yard. You make sure she arrives to her destination without incident, before scooting closer to your husband and taking his vacant hand. 

“Spence?” You ask quietly, leaning in to try and insert yourself into his eye line. He doesn’t look away from Ada. 

“That was bad.”

“It wasn’t. She doesn’t understand. It’s fine.”

“I didn’t—”

He looks down, lips pressed together, and your heart twists and drops like overripe fruit from the vine as you realize his eyes have glossed over. 

“Baby,” you whisper, relinquishing his hand only so you can rub his back. Your other finds his knee, drawing as close as you possibly can. “It’s okay.”

“How am I supposed to explain it to her?”

A tear falls, making a dark splotch on the fabric of his pants. 

“You don’t have to. She’s only five. I guarantee she’s already forgotten all about it.”

“I will. I’ll have to tell her one day. She thinks I’m perfect, how am I supposed to—”

He stops himself, voice tightening to a halt. You watch him hold back a cry like you haven’t seen in years. It’s an old, familiar ache for you. You can’t imagine how it feels for him. 

“Spencer,” you coo. “She adores you. She loves you so much. That’s never going to change.”

His nose twitches. 

“I’m going to disappoint her.”

“How? How are you going to disappoint her?”

“I think it’s pretty disappointing to find out your dad is a junkie.”

His tone isn’t particularly harsh but the words are like a slap anyway. 

“Spencer…” For a moment you don’t know what else to say. It’s not a secret that he’s ashamed of that chapter in his life, but you had no idea he was contending with this much self-loathing over it, even after all this time. It seems like such a distant point in the rearview mirror that the two of you almost never need to talk about it anymore. “You are not a junkie. It’s been, what—a decade?”

“I don’t want to have to tell her what drugs are, let alone that I... she thinks I’m the smartest guy in the world, and one day I’ll have to tell her that drugs are extremely dangerous, and I was shooting up for four months anyway. No matter how I try to explain it to her the ultimate takeaway is going to be that I’m weak and I wasn’t smart enough and she’s never, ever going to forget that. How am I supposed to—I can’t be a role model for her. I fucked up so badly.”

Your chest aches, somewhere deep and hollow, as he leans forward, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, only for a moment—before Ada shrieks and his head snaps back up. Henry is chasing her with a worm. Spencer watches on, tears still leaking from his eyes and expression otherwise neutral. It’s bittersweet to hear him express such deep insecurity about the thing he’s best at in the world, even as those parental instincts kick in and he’s setting aside his own feelings to keep an eye on her. He’s never trusted himself. He’s never seen himself the way you do. 

“Baby, you are her dad and she loves you. Her love for you is not contingent on your past. You are so, so good to her. That’s all she knows, okay? She doesn’t care what you were doing when you were 25. She cares about whether you’ll be home for dinner, and if you’ll play dolls with her, and if you’ll tuck her in. That’s all she needs to love you.”

JJ wrangles the kids and after a moment Spencer looks down again, brow furrowed deeply as drops like rain dot his lap, but he hardly makes a sound. You lay your cheek on his shoulder. “And until she’s old enough for the whole story, which involves a lot more violence than I am comfortable with her being subjected to right now, you don’t need to explain it to her. You have time.”

“She wants to know now.”

“She also wants icecream for every meal. But I can’t make her understand why that’s a bad idea. What she wants and what she needs and what she is capable of understanding are all different categories. I know you love answering all her questions, and you’re a really good teacher, but you can’t make her understand something as complex as addiction.”

Spencer sniffs. 

“Developmentally she’s only really capable of understanding the world as it exists in relation to herself.”

“Exactly. So give her some time, and give yourself some time.”

“What if she asks again?”

“Then… you say you don’t like how it makes you feel. And tell her to clean up her toys. Condition her to stop asking.”

Spencer stumbles over a teary laugh he hadn’t been expecting. You sit up straight, holding his face between your hands and encouraging him to look at you. His cheeks shine with tears, but you wipe them away tenderly. 

“You’re perfect to her,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to one cheek, “and you’re perfect to me.” He cups your elbow as you kiss the other and looks at you with so much sheer adoration you could get all choked up, too.

“Wow,” he sniffles, and takes a deep breath, pulling you into him, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do,” you mumble into his shirt, eyes fluttering shut as he presses three kisses to the curve of your neck where he’s buried his face. 

“I could be canonized as a saint and not deserve you.”

Sainthood. You ponder that. 

Saints have to live virtuously. They also have to be dead. 

You hold him a little tighter. You like him exactly how he is: technically imperfect. Probably not getting into heaven. Still venerable. Very much heroic. Alive, and with you.

“I’m really glad you’re not a saint.”

He chuckles. His hand slides up your back, and then side to side—a path it’s made time and time again which has only ever led you to wonderful, perfect places.

“Me too.”

[pathologicalreid]

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

[latenightdaydreams]

Cowboy!König x Farmer (fem pov)

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, mention of death (widow), p in v, spanking, oral

2.3k word count

Set in 1890's America

🤠

.

.

It has been exactly four months and seventeen days since your husband, Henry, passed away. The two of you decided to leave your dull city life for the excitement of the untouched wilderness. Everything had been going perfectly. In only five years the both of you were able to build a beautiful home, a big barn with animals to fill it, and enough crops to feed yourselves and sell. Success to the point of needing to hire extra hands. It was the American dream.

It’s just you and a failing farm. The work just continues to pile up and you never seem to be able to catch a break. With no other options, you set off into town looking for help. You hang fliers in the local stores and on street posts, hoping someone reliable will respond. All you can do is wait.

Only just two days later while you’re outside feeding your chickens, you see a black draft horse approaching. You place the bucket of feed on the floor, wipe your hands off on your blue jeans, and adjust your cream-colored button-down shirt before walking towards him. As you approach you notice that underneath the cowboy hat is an odd t-shirt like mask covering his face.

“I hope you’re not here to cause trouble.” You rest your hand on the pistol resting on your hip as you continue to approach him.

“Nein, no trouble, Fräulein."

His thick Austrian accent takes you by surprise. Your eyes look over his body as he gets off of his horse, taking note of how massive this man is. He looks down at you with his pale blue eyes squinting from a smile.

“I’m König,” he holds his hand out to you, “I saw your fliers in town.”

“I’m, y/n. Have you worked on a farm before?” You weakly shake his hand, your body so exhausted from hours of work and no rest.

“I grew up on one in Austria.”

You cross your arms keeping your defenses up as you two speak. There are so many questions running through your mind about his mask, but you decide to not ask. Never in your life did you think a 6’10 giant would be the one to show up.

“Well, as the post states; I can’t pay much but I can offer food and a room to compensate.”

The fact that you can’t afford to pay the standard rate to a farm hand makes you feel ashamed. There used to be three workers and now it’s only you. You can feel the heat in your face begin to build as you wait for him to reject your offer. Without him, you might not be able to keep the farm past this coming harvesting season.

“That sounds like a good deal to me, Fräulein.”

A small smile cracks at the corner of your lips as he agrees. There is a wave of relief that washes over your body. The possibility of getting the farm back to its glory days lingers in the back of your mind.

“Come with me, I’ll give you a tour.”

You turn and start with showing him the farm land before walking inside the home. It’s a two-story farmhouse, well taken care of by your husband. On the walls there are two photos; one of you and your late husband and the other of your parents. You notice König eyeing them, but he doesn’t ask about it.

Up the stairs and around to the left is the spare room. It was supposed to be a nursery, but those hopes of a family died with your husband. In the corner is a single bed and a wardrobe on the wall. It’s not a must, but it’s all you could afford.

“Here is where you’ll be sleeping.” Your eyes follow König as he walks past. His muscles are so big the ripple though the tight blue shirt he’s wearing. His thighs would be so nice to sit on. Henry was a skinny little man. You didn’t know men could be this big. “There are some house rules. No parties, no drinking yourself dumb, and please clean up after yourself.”

König places his small bag on the bed; clearly, he travels light. He nods as he looks around and then his eyes land back on you. The beautiful shade of light blue is only accentuated by the black mask covering his face.

“Ja, I promise to follow the rules. When do I start?”

“You can help me now. All of the animals are fed, but the stalls need to be cleaned out.”

“I’m on it.” König says as he walks past you. You get a whiff of his musky smell from his travels. Deep inside you feel wrong but, on the surface, you can’t help but to be aroused by the man.

You wait a moment before going outside to tend to the crops. Right now, you just need to remain focused on the farm and Henry’s vision. There is no time for men in this life.

You march down the stairs and head to the barn to grab your tools. Once you enter the door you see König with the pitchfork shoveling the animal manure, just as you asked of him. Except his shirt is now off and resting over one of the hooks on the wall. His body is glistening with sweat as his muscles flex with each movement. Trying to not get caught staring, you turn and grab what you need quickly and leave. The sound of your heart beat echoes in your ears, what is wrong with you?

The day passes until the sun begins to set. You’ve noticed that König took the liberty to go around the barn and fix things that have been broken for a while. His work ethic only makes you feel even worse for not being able to pay him more.

A few days pass, the both of you have slowly begun to build a routine. It has been nice to have him around the house, the chores no longer seem unmanageable. There hasn’t been much conversation, but you steal glances of his body everyday when he’s outside.

Today as you’re bent over planting seeds, you feel a warm hand rest on your lower back. You can feel a tingle crash over your body as you stand and turn to him. Your bodies are so close that you can feel the heat radiating from him. All you want to do is rub your hand down his chest and feel his sweat on your body.

“I can finish up; you should go inside and rest.” His eyes flicker back and forth between yours causing your heart to flutter.

“No, it’s okay—”

“Bitte meine Liebe, let me finish.”

You nod slowly. His hand drifts from your back to the curve of your rear before dropping off. The look he gives you melts you completely. Thanking him once more, you walk forward and towards the house. You turn back to look at König and see his eyes following your hips before he continues working.

As you turn the corner, you realize that you forgot your jacket in the barn. You walk back and see it lying next to König’s shirt. With your jacket in hand, you look around before grabbing his shirt. Bringing it up to your face, you take a deep breath in, savoring his scent.

“Liebling, I thought I told you to get some rest.”

König’s voice causes you to jump, accidently dropping his shirt on the ground before turning around to face him. You can’t seem to find the right words to attempt to talk yourself out of this situation; it’s embarrassing.

“I’m so sorry, I know this must look—”

“Like you were smelling my shirt.” König says with a certain cheerful tone in his voice.

All you can do is nod, you’ve been caught; the thought of him quitting makes your heart drop. Words escape you; how does one apologize for this? You pick his shirt back up and hand it to him.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat in a meek tone.

König looks at you for a while before slowly approaching you. His massive hand ups the side of your face and tilts your head back for you to look directly into his eyes. A chill travels over your body.

“That’s…very naughty of you.” His voice is almost a whisper as his other arm wraps around the side of you, pressing you against his chest.

You look up with wide eyes at his response; it isn’t what you were expecting at all. Before you can say anything, his hand squeezes your soft plump ass through your jeans. He gently grinds his hips up against you, making sure you feel how aroused you make him.

“You are simply stunning, Liebling.” König growls in your ear, goosebumps travel all over.

Both of his hands move down to unbutton your shirt, every button felt like it was taking an eternity to undo. The way he looks at your bare breasts like a hungry beast causes your pussy to tingle, a rush of desire pulsing throughout your body. He gently pulls his cowboy hat off and places it on the wooden stable behind you, pulling off his mask as well.

You see a long and deep scar that travels down the right side of his face. It isn’t a turn off for you, he’s still a handsome man. With one hand you reach up and caress the right side of his face gently, König presses his face into your hand as he relishes your touch.

He leans down and wraps his lips around one of your nipples while he unbuttons your jeans. The feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipple causes you to let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb back his messy blonde hair as you watch him with closed eyes enjoy your body.

The fabric of your jeans brush along your legs as he pulls them down off of your body along with your underwear. His large hands caress your legs from your calves up to your thighs. He pulls away to look at your full body; your eyes drop to his hands to see his erection straining against his jeans. Your eyes follow as he stands up, towering over your much smaller frame as his hands undo his pants. In this moment you didn’t feel like a widower or even the stress of the farm. It’s just you and König.

A tiny yelp leaves you as he lifts you up and holds you in his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist while he walks with you to the barn wall. His lips crash into yours in a passionate kiss. You pull him to you, deepening the kiss. He tastes strongly of tobacco and smells like sweat from working in the hot sun all day.

König pulls away from the kiss, leaving your lips wet and craving more of him. His eyes look hazy, drunk at this moment. Then you see the head of his cock press against your sopping wet pussy. His once pale blue eyes are now blackened by his pupils.

With one harsh thrust, König shoves himself inside of you. A loud moan leaves your lips as your face scrunches with pleasure. König is such a strong man that he so effortlessly holds you and moves you down on to his cock to meet his thrust.

“Y/n.” He huffs your name.

No words can even be formed as your body experiences new heights of pleasure you’ve never felt before. His cock is monstrous, bullying itself inside of you. Your short finger nails dig into and drag across his pale skin, reddened from the blistering August sun.

Animalistic groans leave König as the most pathetic mewls leave yours. His body leans against yours as he presses you harder against the barn wall, his hips bucking up rapidly like a man in heat. You feel a way of electricity as his tongue licks across the side of your neck. He covers your pulse point with his lips and begins to lightly suck.

Beads of sweat begin to drip on your body, both of you growing increasingly slippery. He gently puts you down, but quickly grabs you by the back of your neck and walks you over to a stack of hay. Not being too rough, he bends you over the stack and presses your face into the hay.

You form goosebumps across your body as he gently caresses down to your hips, grasping them firmly. His pace continues, but you feel his heavy balls slapping against your swollen clit. Your eyes flutter back as one hand reaches behind you to push his chest.

“Too much.” You whimper.

König doesn’t listen, grabbing your arms and folding it behind your back instead. He reaches for your other arm to also hold it that way, one of his hands wrapping around both of your wrist to keep them together. Your ass ripples with every merciless thrust only bringing you closer to orgasm.

You can feel your pussy clenching around his cock, a low moan leaving him in response. This is just too much. The strong build up of ecstasy radiates from deep inside of your core throughout your whole body. In response to this sensation you tremble, König’s name being the only thing you can say as you cry for him over and over again.

“Can I—” König begins to ask, but before he finishes his sentence you can feel his cock begin to pulse deep inside. His heavy body leans forward and rest on you, pressing you more into the hay. He gives your marked neck soft kisses as your body takes every single drop of his cum.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Broken Mind, Broken Soul

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: heavy angst, abuse scars, post-prison!spencer, parent/domestic violence (explicit), pretending to be fine when you're not, smut (maybe considered CNC? i'm not sure but better but that on here)

Summary: Spencer is back from prison so he’s trying to pick up the pieces and get back into his old life. Something is off about you but he respects your boundaries until he sees what you’ve been hiding from him.

Square Filled: cold-blooded torture for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Spencer is home. He’s home and everything is going to go back to the way it was. He’s not going to find you. He’s not going to hurt you anymore. You want to be happy that your boyfriend is out of prison after nearly three months of being locked up for a crime he didn’t do. He suffered in there and you couldn’t do anything about it. He’s home now, and everyone is so happy to see him.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror and try not to break down in tears. This day is for Spencer. He’s home. You can take a break from your personal shit to give him a proper welcome home. If you can do that, you might make it out of this alive. You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face, one that looks like you’re not dying inside.

You leave the bathroom in search of your boyfriend who is spending time outside away from everyone. Spencer must have gone through hell inside the four walls of the prison so it’s a bit overwhelming to be back to his normal life. Everyone must understand that because they’re inside having a good time and giving Spencer his space.

You push past everyone and walk over to Henry’s small playground. Spencer is swinging lightly on the swings and you stand by him, waiting for him to look at you. When he does, you can see how empty they are. God, Spencer, what happened to you? You hope your eyes aren’t as empty as his. You’re really trying hard to put on a brave face but you’re not sure how much longer you can do this.

“Hey,” you say softly.

“Hey, yourself.” You walk around the other swing and sway in sync with Spencer. “Tell me what you’ve been up to since I was gone?”

You were and are afraid of this question. You’ve been preparing yourself for this question since hearing he was coming back but you never knew how to answer it. One wrong word and he’ll know exactly what you’ve been up to.

“You know, working cases like normal. We helped a lot of people but it wasn’t the same without you. I just tried to get through the day every day.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he sighs.

He believes you. He has no reason not to. Spencer looks at you to see a faraway look in your eyes. Maybe it’s just him but something might not be right. The look is gone in a split second and you’re back to pretending. Maybe it’s just him.

“Look, I know Rosis wanted to throw you this party but want to go home?”

“Yeah, I do,” he nods.

You two say your goodbyes to everyone before heading home. The drive is silent like you two don’t know how to talk to each other anymore. Sure, it could be the fact that Spencer has been in prison this whole time but he suspects something else happened. You two didn’t talk much but he doesn’t know what could be bothering you.

It’s been nearly three months without you in his bed, and he can’t help himself when he sees you in his bed. It’s been three months since he’s touched you so he walks over to you and crawls up your body. You want to enjoy this. You want to be here for him but you’re stuck inside your own head. You don’t dare let him know what you’re thinking so maybe if you go along with it, you can slip further into the facade you’re putting up.

You two kiss but he’s so wound up that he doesn’t register that you’re not as into it as he is. You’re here for him, that’s all that matters. You’re okay with this even if your body is telling you no. He reaches for your shirt but you’re quick to grab his hands to stop him.

“Keep the shirt on.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just want my shirt to stay on.”

“Okay,” he nods respectfully.

He kisses you in all the right spots and touches you where he knows you like to be touched. He is doing absolutely everything right so why do you want to break down in tears right now? Get it together. Just give him what he wants. It might fix you. So, you listen to that part of your brain. He flips you so you’re on your stomach and fucks you from behind. You grip the sheets tightly and put your face in the bed so he doesn’t see the tears, so he doesn’t hear your cries.

You love Spencer and you’re trying hard not to let him see your true feelings. You don’t want to hurt him. It has nothing to do with him but you’re scared to let him see just how broken you are. Thankfully, he’s spent by the time he’s done so he doesn’t see the tears on your cheeks. You immediately roll over and put your head over his heart, and he runs his fingers through your hair. He moves his hands down to your back but you immediately spring away from him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just need to shower.” He goes to move. “Alone.”

He watches you disappear into the bathroom with a frown. Since the BAU is requesting that Spencer take some time off, he is forced to stay home while you go to work. Everything seems to be the same but this time, you’re gone before he can wake up, and you get home right before he goes to bed. You don’t change in front of him anymore which is the first red flag. He has seen every intimate part of your body, tasted every part of you, so why are you hiding from him now? He’s not going to be a dick and force you to do something you don’t want to do, but why now?

What happened to you while he was in prison?

“Hey, are we okay?” Spencer asks one night after you had just gotten home from work.

“Of course we are.”

“Okay, because if we aren’t, you’d tell me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Spencer.”

You walk into the bathroom to take a bath, leaving him to pick up the pieces you didn’t know you dropped. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. It’s the “be” part that is setting off alarm bells. If you had said, “I’m fine”, he would have passed it off and left you alone. The fact that you added the word “be” means you’re definitely not fine. The last time you said, “I’ll be fine” was when he had to pry you from your cold-hearted and evil father’s arms right before he went to prison for what he did to you.

Damn, he should have seen the signs before. You had shut everyone down. You didn’t want to be kissed or touched. You stayed in bed for seventy-two straight hours before Spencer had to force you out of it. Your father is and was an evil man who did untold cold-blooded torture to his own daughter. Your emotional scars don’t show but the physical ones do--whip marks, cigarette burns, and stab wounds. Anything to get his anger out.

Spencer walks to the bathroom carefully and knocks twice on the door. When you don’t answer, he pushes the door open to see you with your back turned toward him. There are newer and fresh scars on your back from the same kind of torture. Some are pinker than others. These ones are recent but how can this be? He hasn’t let you out of his sight since… Prison. He kneels next to the tub and looks at you but you’re not seeing him. You’re staring at the faucet as a single drop of water leaks from it.

“Who did this to you?” Spencer asks angrily. You don’t answer. “Was it your father?”

“He got out of prison when you went in. He found me at work and took me back to that farm,” you whisper. “I was just about to take two weeks off so no one questioned why I was gone. He kept me for three before he just let me go. I got back just days before you did.”

It takes Spencer five minutes to say something because of how angry he is, and he has all this pent-up anger that he’d love to get out.

“Is he breathing?” You can only nod in response. “Not for long, he won’t.”

Your head snaps up at his response but he’s already by the door.

“What are you going to do?”

“Something I should have done the first time around. That man will never touch a hair on your head ever again.”

Spencer leaves the bathroom door open so you can see what he’s doing. You get a flash of his FBI gun before he’s out of frame. You don’t stop him.

You’re in bed when he finally comes back. If you didn’t know where he was going, you’d think he went to the store. There is not a speck of blood on him or an ounce of regret on his face. You don’t ask where he’s been or if your father is alive even though you know he’d tell you if you did. Spencer climbs into bed and pulls you into him, and you rest your head on his chest.

I’m safe now. Spencer is home and everything is right with the world.

It’s going to take a long time until you’re okay again but with Spencer by your side, you know you can get there.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @@aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[junrenjun]

love and lacrosse jackets

pe teacher!vernon x chemistry teacher!reader (fem)

genre: fluff

wc: 3k

warnings: reader is referred to as ms. (and other fem pronouns), reader wears vernon's clothes

a/n: this is not an understand series update and i apologize for that. however, here's a vernon teacher au with a little side of lacrosse and dad!seungcheol

You were suddenly thrown out of your thoughts by one of your students sighing and turning from her worksheet. “Ms. y/n, can I ask a question?” 

You knew this student, Maya, was likely trying to get out of doing her assignment. She was too smart for her own good. “Depends. Is it about the worksheet?” 

She paused for a second, turning her head slightly away in order to avoid your gaze. “...no.”

You continued. “Do you need to go to the bathroom or the nurse?”

Maya sighed and mumbled, “no.”

You turned back to your computer while giving your final response. “Then I think you know the answer. I would be happy to talk to you once you’ve balanced all those equations.” 

You should’ve known she wasn’t giving up that easily. If anything, she probably gave up halfway through the worksheet because she knew the answers and was just looking for something to entertain herself. “Mr. Chwe lets us ask him questions all the time.”

You snorted. “Mr. Chwe is a PE teacher Maya. You don’t have worksheets to do in his classes. Unfortunately, you do in chemistry. So please finish this or at least study for your quiz next week.” 

Maya was apparently taken aback by this. She was quick to defend herself, saying, “how do you know we don’t do worksheets in PE?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Maybe you should've been a college professor instead of a high school teacher. “I’m the girls lacrosse coach and he’s the boys coach. We spend a lot of time together and I’ve never once seen him make a worksheet.” 

An evil grin spread across Maya’s face. You internally groaned at this. That expression means she’s up to absolutely no good. She turned and tapped on her partner’s arm. Great, now she’s distracting other students too. “Henry, wouldn’t Ms. y/n and Mr. Chwe make a cute couple?” He grinned and started going off on a tangent about how funny it would be if the two lacrosse coaches were dating. 

This conversation really took a turn for the worse, didn’t it? There’s nothing you could do but groan, out loud this time, and put your head in your hands. Your neighboring teacher, Mr. Seokmin, really has impeccable timing though. He stuck his head through your door and grabbed your attention a few moments later. “Hey Ms. y/n, do you have a student that can run an errand for me real quick?”

Now was your chance. “Maya, since you seem to have no interest in balancing any more equations, why don’t you go help Mr. Seokmin?”

Before she could protest, the physics teacher grinned brightly at her before exclaiming, “perfect! Come on Maya, I need someone to help me carry these projects to the library.” Once she was finally out of the room, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

It didn’t last long though because your other students suddenly started giggling and murmuring amongst each other. Henry, who was still turned toward you, decided he needed to continue Maya’s antics in her absence. “You did say you and Mr. Chwe were close.” More giggles were heard. 

You’re not sure what you did to deserve this treatment from your 3rd hour honors class of all people, but clearly it was something. “Alright if you all don’t go back to your work I’m not offering any extra credit on this next quiz.” The rest of the hour passed in silence. 

“What’s with the long face?” Vernon thought the joking would cheer his best player up, but it just made Henry frown even more. 

After a few moments of silence, he finally answered, “I had a quiz in chemistry today. Don’t think I did too well on it.”

Vernon was quick to ask him which teacher he had. “Your favorite, Ms. y/n,” Henry responded. 

The PE teacher rolled his eyes at the comment but still clapped his hand on the player’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, kid. She offers extra credit. But she also told me you and Maya were pestering her the other day instead of doing your work, so maybe you should put a little more effort into understanding the material next time.”

Henry grumbled, knowing nothing good would come of an argument. “Yeah, whatever you say Coach.” Then, he dropped his bag on the ground and ran out onto the field to start warming up.

Vernon felt someone approach him from behind. “See dude, even the kids can pick up on you and y/n’s chemistry. Haha, get it? Chemistry? Y/n teaches chemistry.” The head coach could barely restrain himself from flicking Mingyu in the forehead. He was a great assistant coach, but an incredibly annoying friend. 

“Why can’t I just be friends with a coworker and fellow lacrosse coach?” Vernon complained. Mingyu simply watched on as his friend continued. “Just because we’re both single doesn’t mean we should get together. I mean she’s really cool and works really well with the kids. And she’s an insane lacrosse player, an even better coach too. I think she could get the girls to state this year. I just think…” He’s cut off by Mingyu smacking his arm. 

For once, he’s grateful for the assistant coach’s intrusion, because he turns around to find you jogging up to him. Weird, he thought to himself, since you and the girls have a game today. You skid to a stop next to the two, and make eye contact with him. “You don’t happen to have an extra SVHS shirt do you? I think I forgot my coaching shirt at home today and I really don’t want Seungcheol getting on my ass for it.” 

Vernon’s world comes crashing down at that moment. Maybe he does have a teensy little crush on you. Because the thought of you wearing his clothes has him swooning. Mingyu, ever so helpful, snaps him out of the moment by clearing his throat to yell at the boys for messing around. Vernon blinks at you for a second before stammering out, “uh yeah I think so,” and reaching into his bag. He pulls out a gray quarter zip with the words “SVHS” and “Coach Chwe” embroidered on the chest. He debates hiding it from your sight and shoving it back in his bag to save you both the embarrassment, but he knows how strict Seungcheol is as an athletic director. 

He eventually tosses it to you, stuttering out something about good luck while watching you throw it over your head. Once it’s on you say, “I have the same one, so hopefully no one sees the difference. Thanks Chwe.” He can’t even process your words because his brain is simply malfunctioning seeing you in his clothes, especially ones that say his name. He’s no better than his high schoolers. Before he knows it, you’re turning on your heel and jogging back to the main field. 

Someone comes up behind him, filling Mingyu’s absence, since the assistant coach ran off to lead practice drills in the middle of Vernon’s little crisis. He hears the lacrosse captain snickering and then telling him, “damn Coach, you’ve got it bad. You’re redder than a tomato.”

Vernon simply cannot handle it any further. “Oscar, for heaven’s sake, please shut your mouth and go back to practice.” Oscar throws his hands up in mock defense, before grabbing the ball that rolled over to Vernon’s feet and running back onto the field.

You really need to give Vernon his coach’s jacket back. It didn’t help that you weren’t a morning person, and seemed to accidentally leave it at home whenever you left for work each day. It also maybe didn’t help that it smelled just like the boy’s lacrosse coach, who, admittedly, smelled pretty damn good. But, you couldn’t hoard Vernon’s things forever. You were lucky enough that you had gone a week without him mentioning the jacket at all, which you chalked up to him knowing you were busy.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow you would take the jacket back to school and give it to him. You even laid it out with your own jacket, which you were going to wear the next since you had a game anyways. That, however, was a mistake. Because in the morning, groggy from lack of sleep, you accidentally threw on Vernon’s jacket and shoved your own into your work bag. 

How no one told you until 3rd period, you’re not quite sure. Mainly because Seokmin had specifically complimented your outfit when you visited him before your first class. You thought maybe it was because you were wearing a new pair of pants. Clearly it was not and the physics teacher was using it as a means to tease you (and Vernon by proxy). If only you had known.

Maya stepped into your classroom extra peppy that day, which was already a recipe for disaster. The fact that she was the one to catch that you were wearing Mr. Chwe’s zip-up certainly did not help. A gasped “oh my god” stopped you in the middle of your lecture. You pointedly looked at the girl before asking, “Maya, is everything alright?”

The poor girl could barely contain her excitement, practically shaking in her seat. “You’re dating Mr. Chwe! I knew it!”

You were caught so off-guard that it took you a while to respond. “Maya, where did you even get that idea from? And you’re being disruptive, I’m trying to teach about equilibrium.” 

She stood from her seat and pointed at you, before excitedly exclaiming, “your jacket. You’re wearing Mr. Chwe’s jacket!” You looked down and, sure enough, Vernon’s name was plastered across the chest. To put it plainly, you were mortified. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’ve embarrassed yourself even more when you don’t respond for a solid minute. 

Finally, when you’re done wallowing in pity in front of a bunch of 16 year olds, you make your way to your desk and pull out a hall pass. You hand it to Maya swiftly before telling her, “if you’re too invested in this to learn chemistry, go bother Mr. Chwe about it. It’s his planning period.” She gapes up at you before scrambling out of the room.

You turn back to the rest of the class, making sure to pointedly look at Henry. “No other questions about my love life?”

A deadly silence spreads across the room. Henry sinks back in his chair but you watch a hand creep up from the back of the classroom. You sigh and call on the girl. She’s clearly surprised you even allowed her to speak, because the question is whispered to the point you can barely hear it. “Why do you have Mr. Chwe’s jacket?”

The inquiry is enough to throw you off the deep end. “Ok, I’m not teaching the rest of class. I don’t care what you guys do as it’s either A) not disruptive or B) asking me about my personal life.” 

Seungcheol is surprised when there is a knock on the athletic office door in the middle of 3rd period. Students should be in class and if it were a staff member, they would have just let themselves in. He tells whoever it is to come in and is slightly less surprised to see Maya standing in front of him. She doesn’t let him speak first, quickly letting out, “do you know where Mr. Chwe is?”

He raises an eyebrow at the girl. “You got a hall pass kid?” he fires back. Maya waves the piece of paper around in his face. He rolls his eyes. 

She puts her hands on her hips and looks pointedly at him. “Seriously though. Do you know where Mr. Chwe is? It’s supposed to be his planning period or something.”

Seungcheol is still confused why she needs to see Vernon in the middle of 3rd hour and how she managed a hall pass for it. “Why?”

Maya plops down on the chair in front of his desk with a sigh, clearly this conversation was not happening without a little bit of a fight. “Ms. y/n sent me to ask him a question.”

The athletic director can’t help but let out a snort at the girl’s comment. Maya is suddenly interested in his reaction. “Why is that so funny? Do you think they’re dating too?”

Seungcheol is surprised yet again. “Do you think they’re dating?”

Now Maya snorts. “Obviously. Ms. y/n is wearing his lacrosse jacket today.” She laughs when the man’s eyes practically bulge out of his skull. He rustles around his desk, grabbing a notepad and writing another hall pass for the girl.

After scribbling for a second, he passes the note to the girl and tells her, “Mr. Chwe is in his office, room 218.”

The girl grabs the note from his hands and gleefully gets up to skip out the door. She stops midway through and calls out over her shoulder, “thanks Dad!”

“I’m not dating Ms. y/n, Maya. You know that.” Vernon sighs exasperatedly. “Why are you even asking me this?”

He knows he’s in for trouble when she smirks. “She’s wearing your coaching jacket today. Care to explain that?”

Vernon knows he should’ve asked for it back sooner rather than later. But he was secretly hoping that he would be able to see it on you one more time. And the longer you have it, the more likely it’s going to come back smelling like you (not that Vernon cares anyways right?). He doesn’t miss a beat though, explaining to Maya that he lent you his jacket for a game and that you probably mixed it up with your own. She’s not impressed, but she knows it’s an explanation that’s most likely true. This doesn’t stop her from interrogating Vernon further. “Do you want to date Ms. y/n?”

His silence is incriminating. He can tell by Maya’s mile wide grin. Trying to put an end to it, the lacrosse coach stands up from his desk, telling her that he’ll walk her back to whatever class she left from.

One tiny important detail he forgot is that you teach 3rd hour honors chemistry. A class that one of his players, Henry, shares with Maya. And he’s currently standing outside your door, watching as you type away on your computer. Sure enough, “Mr. Chwe” is embroidered across the chest. Vernon thinks he might combust on the spot. His student clearly picks up on this, muttering something about how she’s “seen middle schoolers with more balls.” 

He waits outside your door as Maya enters the room. There’s only a few minutes left of the period, so he figured it would be better for both of you to talk away from prying eyes. As the bell rings, he patiently watches the students trickle out your door. When he’s sure that everyone is gone, he steps into the doorway. What he does not expect is for you to walk straight into his chest, stumbling back with the cutest “oomph” he’s ever heard. 

Vernon is stunned but you look completely mortified. Probably because you just ran into the man whose jacket you’re wearing basically without his consent. His assumption is correct because you start mumbling out apologies. “I’m so sorry I thought this was my jacket when I grabbed it this morning. I didn’t mean to wear it today, I made such a mess of this. I shouldn’t have even asked for it in the first place. I was just about to change, give me a second I…”

The lacrosse coach cuts you off in the middle of your little rant. “Do you want to go out with me after your game on Friday?” 

You blink at him, not even processing the words he just said. When you finally do, your cheeks flush and you glance down at your watch. “Do you think you can ask me that in like 4 hours, Chwe?”

Vernon has no idea what you mean by that. He gawks a little bit. Do you need time to think about it? Are you not interested? Do you already have a boyfriend? Shit, he should’ve thought this through.

You break him out of his little trance with a small chuckle. “We’re on the clock Vernon. And you have a class in three minutes.” 

He glances at his watch. His freshman PE class is probably waiting for him. He mumbles something about meeting him on the main field before practice. Then he’s out the door. You’re left there, stunned, still in his jacket. You don’t bother to take it off the rest of the day.

A few hours later, Mingyu and Seokmin are watching you both converse from afar. Vernon’s cheeks are the reddest they’ve ever been. You’re fidgeting nervously but also smiling. It seems to be going well. Seokmin turns to the assistant coach before saying, “took them long enough.”

They hear someone approaching and turn to see Seungcheol. “You both owe me $20.” 

Both the teachers roll their eyes at him but reach for their wallets. Maya pops up from their other side, walking up to her father. “I should be getting at least half of that. I did all the work.” 

Seungcheol grunts, pondering her proposition. He turns to her. “What about this? You can either get $20 now or $200 if y/n is Mrs. Chwe before you graduate college?”

Maya’s eyes brighten and that sinister smile spreads across her cheeks once again. “Deal.” (She’s $200 richer at her college graduation).

[aperrywilliams]

I'm Sorry I Couldn't be Here for You Sooner (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

------------------ 

Author Masterlist

------------------

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: You have one of the worst days in a long time at work. When Spencer returns from an assignment to the BAU and sees your current state, he must do something.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Frustration/Hurt/Comfort. Just a self-indulgent rant. A lot of cuss words. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world.

A/N: I just need Spencer to hold me now.

-----

The clock ticks and ticks, but the time seems to stand still. Even if you don't know how long you have been looking at that piece of wood, plastic, and metal, it feels like an eternity.

In the distance, a voice keeps throwing out words and sentences to which you should pay attention. However, even if you tried, looking at the clock on the wall is still more interesting than hearing Hotch talking about new protocols for field agents.

Still lost in your head, you don't notice the meeting is over and people are starting to leave the room. Only when someone squeezes your forearm. It's JJ.

"Are you okay?" she asks, eyebrows furrowed. You look at her and blink a few times.

"Uh- yeah," you mumble. 

Are you okay? No, you're not. But why bother others with that?

On second thought, this may be a chance to spill what's on your mind. JJ is usually a forthcoming and wise person. 

"Well, actually-" you begin, but before saying anything else, JJ cuts you off.

"That's nice. Because I want to ask you if you can babysit Henry tomorrow night. Will invited me to a romantic dinner, and our babysitter is sick. Hope it doesn't make much trouble to you?" the blonde probes.

Okay, you didn't expect that.

Not in the mood to turn the subject back to you, you say yes, and after thanking you, JJ quickly leaves the conference room. Alone with your thoughts for a few seconds, you wonder if the tightness in your chest isn't an exaggeration. You decide to forget about it and go back to your desk.

Opening a folder with the information on the last case, you are ready to write your report. But not too so far on it, Emily approaches you.

"Hey, how are you?"

You have doubts about how to answer the question. A few minutes ago, when JJ asked, you lied to her, and she didn't even notice. Maybe it's good to be honest.

"Actually, not so good," you sigh. And Emily raises an eyebrow. 

"Yeah? What happened?"

"I just don't know, I don't feel good," you try to explain. But you're not sure how to do it either.

"I'm sure it's something you can manage," Emily muses. "Look, whatever it is, have a drink when you get home today, relax a little, and I bet you'll be as good as new tomorrow!"

You open and close your mouth several times, trying to get a word out, but nothing comes to mind. 

A drink and relax? Is that simple?

You let out a hum, and that's enough for a response to Emily.

After wishing you good luck, she heads down the hallway, presumably to Garcia's office.

It's clear that Emily didn't grasp your actual emotional state, but you don't blame her either.

The last case was hard for everyone, so there is no reason to take it personally.

Focusing on your report again, you expect the sour mood surrounding you to fade eventually.

To finish your paperwork, you need to make copies of the reports. So you get up and head to the copy machine. After carefully placing the papers in the tray, you press the start button. When you think it will start copying, the machine stops mid-scan. You frown, and after a few seconds of nothing, you press the 'start' button again. Nothing. You do it again. And again. It's not working, and you feel your blood running hot.

By pressing the button again and again, anger comes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you stupid fucking machine!"

It's not enough to swat with force the button panel; now you're kicking the machine out of pent-up frustration.

"Whoa, whoa, stop right there, pretty girl."

Morgan steps between you and the machine, putting distance with his palms. And that's when you realize your outburst. Panting and still with the heat of rage on your cheeks, you are not yet satisfied.

"What the fuck, Morgan. Now you're defending a fucking copy machine?!" You hiss. Derek narrows his eyes to assess your current state. He's seen you mad, but it usually goes away easily. You are not a dense person.

"Okay, what's wrong, pretty girl? Since when do you unleash your frustration with pretty boy on inanimate things?"

Pretty boy. Spencer. Your boyfriend. Today, your boyfriend is conducting a cognitive interview with a convict in a DC jail—Hotch's orders. You wish he were here.

Morgan knows you usually laugh at his jokes, and even when you are in a bad temper, they help to light the mood.

Not this time, though.

"Don't talk about Spencer or me like that!" You snarl. "He doesn't have to do with any of this!"

Morgan doesn't like you are talking to him. Folding his arms over his chest, he let out an unamused scoff.

"Come on, don't you think you're overreacting here? Was this whole outburst only for a joke? What, are you four years old?"

You want to keep yelling, but a lump forms in your throat that is making it difficult for you to speak or even breathe. Morgan doesn't even wait for you to say something.

"You know what?" Morgan continues. "If you cannot stand the pressure of this job right now, maybe you should go home."

With that said and shaking his head in disappointment, Dereks leaves you there.

Stumped. Frustrated. Broken.

All the anger from moments before turns into an almost uncontrollable urge to cry. What have you done to these people? They are supposed to be your friends, your family. They are supposed to understand you and support you when you need them. And now that it's the time, they've only ignored you, minimized your problems, and even questioned your worth. Maybe Derek is right, and you should go home.

Defeated, you're strolling to your desk when Hotch peaks out of his office and gestures you to come.

Great, just what you needed now.

When you walk into your boss's office, he is already sitting in his chair, sternly looking at you.

"I won't ask you what's wrong with you today because it's your private life. However, I must remind you we are all professionals on this team. If you need time off, you have the right to get it, but I will not tolerate disrespect, like when you are distracted as I give fundamental instructions. If you don't pay attention, it could affect your work in the field and even put the lives of innocent people at risk."

If you didn't feel trampled before, now you feel like a ton of dirt was dumped on you.

You know Hotch can be sharp with words, but his ultimate goal is always to look after the team. But why does it feel like you're not part of that team right now?

"Do I make myself clear?"

With no more energy left in your body, you just let out a 'yes, sir.' Without waiting for another response, he sends you back to your desk.

It's already noon when you resume your work. Your mind spins at a mile an hour, and although it's hard, you force yourself to concentrate enough to get your job done, so at least the salary they pay you is worth it. 

Like a mollusk in its shell, you close yourself in that bubble and stop paying attention to your surroundings. It's your safe place—only you. 

In the distance, you feel your coworkers come and go. Never do you look up. Time goes by, and your throat feels dry from not speaking for hours.

Before everyone starts planning lunch, you are already picking up your lunch bag.

Social interaction is out of the table, so you are secluded in the building roof where an improvisated garden has benches. You sit alone, and the breeze helps to steady your breathing. As you open your Tupperware, you tentatively plunge the fork into the almost-cold pasta.

Even so, you're better here than in the bullpen minutes ago.

-----

Spencer walks through the doors of the BAU. It's 2 in the afternoon, so hopefully, the team is still having lunch in the conference room. Slightly worried that he wouldn't be able to reach you when he wanted to let you know he was on his way, he assumed that you had a lot of work and that your phone was mute.

Arriving at the conference room, Spencer scans the place and immediately catches something odd. You are not there. JJ, Prentiss, Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch are, though.

With an eyebrow furrowed, he asks, "Where is she?"

His teammates perk their heads up.

"Hello to you, pretty boy," Morgan teases.

"How was the interview?" JJ asks.

"Did you eat? You still can sit with us," Prentiss offers.

"Did you get the interview done?" Hotch asks with a raised eyebrow.

Spencer gets an uneasy feeling about what's going on. He knows you weren't feeling so okay this morning, and even if he tried to convince you to take a sick day, you didn't let him.

"Neither of you responded my question," Spencer points, voice harsher than when he asked first.

"(Y/N)? I thought she went home," Morgan muses.

"Why would she do that?" Spencer questions, alarmed. "Something bad happened?"

"She said she was okay when I asked earlier," JJ explains. "Maybe she has an errand to do."

"She was way distracted when we were at the meeting in the morning. She didn't listen a thing of what I said," Hotch adds.

"And you sent her home?" Spencer directs his question to Hotch.

"No, I didn't. She didn't ask it either when I called her to my office."

"You called her to your office? Did you reprimand her?" Spencer asks in disbelief.

"Of course, I did it, Reid. She did something disrespectful to the team," Hotch defends.

"And considering her rage moment directed to the copy machine, maybe it's better if she went home," Morgan supplies.

"Why are you being so dramatic, Reid?" Emily questions, very confused about why Spencer is so upset.

Spencer huffs, frustration running in his veins.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? Did you ever realize she wasn't doing okay and nobody took her seriously? Yeah, sure, she said she was okay, but did you really check on her? Did you really ask her what was wrong? Did someone listen to her?"

The people in the room go silent after Spencer scolds them. 

Did they help in any way?

"You are unbelievable, and you call yourself profilers," Spencer huffs, turning to exit the room in search of you.

"What are you doing, Reid?" Hotch asks. No turning around to face his boss, and halfway out, Spencer replies.

"The thing you should have done in the first place. And I don't care if it doesn't fall protocol, I can give you my resignation letter tomorrow."

-----

When Spencer reaches the building roof and sees you sitting on one of the benches, he lets out a sigh of relief. He suspected you might be there, considering your things were still on your desk.

You can't see it since your back is turned. Your eyes look at the horizon without focusing on anything in particular.

The breeze is nice despite the November weather in Virginia.

Not wanting to scare you, Spencer slowly approaches you as he clears his throat. You turn around and see him standing a couple of meters away from you, but close enough to see your eyes red from crying.

You know he noticed it, and you avert his gaze.

You don't like the idea of ​​looking vulnerable right now. The morning was already catastrophic enough to explain your current state of mind to Spencer.

Spencer is a man of many words. He is known for his diatribes on any topic at hand. So you expect some kind of rant or even some statistical data about what could be happening to you.

But contradicting his very nature, he just silently approaches, takes your hand to get you up from the bench, and pulls you into a tight, comforting embrace.

And for the first time all day, you feel like you can actually breathe, and your chest isn't tight anymore. Words are not necessary; just being held like that is enough for now.

Spencer kisses the top of your head lovingly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here for you sooner. I'm sorry you had such a horrible morning," your boyfriend laments.

You shake your head, still buried in his chest.

Tears fight to come out from the corners of your eyes, and you no longer want to hold them back.

"Let it out, baby. Just let them out."

And that's what you do. For the first time all day, you allow yourself to cry without holding back. Spencer has you the entire time, rubbing your back soothingly.

"I don't know why I feel so bad, Spencer. I don't understand," you muffle your words into his embrace.

"It's okay, love. You don't have to explain to me, or anyone for that matter. There are days when we are not okay, and it's completely valid. Never think you don't have the right to."

Hearing Spencer say that relieves some of the pressure on your head, but you can't help but think about your teammates' words throughout the morning.

Separating yourself from Spencer to look at him, your eyes still denote your inner struggle.

"What if they are right? What if they are right when they say I shouldn't make so much fuzz and rather think about doing my job well?"

Spencer cups your cheeks so you can look at him.

"They are not. Okay? By any means, you are the most professional person I have ever met in my life. Not only that, you are also the most compassionate, selfless, and willing to help to the fullest extent of your capacity. Does JJ need help babysitting Henry? You don't think twice. Does García need assistance organizing a girls' night? You are the first one to be there. Does Hotch need to finish a stack of reports in one night? You offer to help him. Does Derek need a backup to kick his way into a place and catch the unsub? You're the first to watch his back."

You are indeed like that, and you do all that. But you've never seen it as something extraordinary. For you, being part of a team and a family means all that and more.

"And that doesn't even scratch the surface of what you have been to me.

My love, you have been the person who has entitled me to open my heart and love without reservation. You have taught me to trust and that asking for help when you feel bad is okay. You are the light of my life, and I swear I'll do everything in my power so you can see the wonderful person you are and that you deserve all the love and support in the world."

Without a doubt, Spencer has something with his words and eloquence. How can you not believe him? The veil of doubt indeed emerges from time to time, but having someone who is by your side showing you what is really important makes the doubts not cloud your path.

A shy smile appears on your face, your eyes filled with gratitude.

"There she is," Spencer whispers, stroking your cheek with love and never breaking eye contact.

"Maybe I should have listened to you this morning and called in sick," you sigh. Spencer kisses the top of your nose.

"I know you weren't going to do it anyway." 

You giggle because he's right. Spencer knows you too well.

"Lunchtime is almost over. We should come back to work," you remind him. Spencer pulls a face, and you raise an eyebrow at him. "What was that?" You inquire.

Spencer laughs nervously. "It's just I may or may not have made a scene in the conference room earlier, and I may or may not have offered my letter of resignation to Hotch if he didn't allow me to come find you."

"You did what? Spencer, oh my God!" you start laughing. "Does that mean there's a chance we'll both get fired today?"

Spencer thinks about that for a second.

"Honestly? I don't think Hotch would risk losing his two best agents," he decides, winking at you.

"Hope you're right, Dr. Reid. Hope you're right," you voice, grabbing his hand in yours and making the way back to the sixth floor.

------------------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

[ccuniculusmolestus]

one thing the tsh fandom will do is constantly overlook the significance and also implications of henry and bunny's friendship in favor of relationships like henry and camilla. (and these were all realizations i had while talking to a friend so-)

we never see Bunny directly break down. well, we never see anything period because we're looking through Richard's eyes, and Richard never sees Bunny upset. I don't mean the upset where he's being mean or being a drunk in his dorm, I mean the kind of upset where he's sobbing and yelling out insults and threats and wrestling with Henry on the floor of their palazzo. I'm talking the kind of upset where he's screaming at Henry to stop touching him while crying in his bed.

We only ever hear that fight, and the other one in Rome we just get to hear of it. None of the others ever saw Bunny in that state, and I doubt they knew how the situation even arose. Only Henry did.

Only you know the way that I break.

And matter of fact, nobody saw Henry genuinely angry too. Even when he was dealing with Charles, he wasn't pissed per se, he was just annoyed and more ready to commit his third murder. I can't remember a scene where Henry genuinely loses it with someone he knows well (so, none of his friends). We only hear of him losing his shit with Bunny EXCEPT for the scene with Judy.

You push my buttons in a way nobody else can.

You know that makes me think, again, that him losing his shit at the party had less to do with Judy and more to do with Bunny. Think about it. Why would they be at a party where Bunny is nowhere to be seen? Why wouldn't Bunny, a party animal, be there with them? You'd think he might have invited the others, or at least heard of their intent to go and wanted to join them- but he just wasn't there. Why? What made the perfectly composed, stoic Henry lose his shit over something that, characteristically, shouldn't even annoy him? Who was later established to be the only thing in Henry's life capable of making him snap to the point of losing all self-control and resorting to violence?

That's right.

Bunny.

In every other case of aggressive, intentional, sober violence displayed by Henry, Bunny is the cause, on the receiving end, both times.

Henry and Bunny knew each other too much, way too much, and I'm tired of pretending theirs was not perhaps the most significant relationship in this story. Put aside the fact that the story is literally DRIVEN by them, put aside even the fact that they both are the only ones to die at the end (too much symbolism here kms), but their relationship genuinely is so fucked up and heavy it leaves more questions the more you think about them. So no, I don't think "Camilla was the only one who saw Henry for who he was" just because she was the recipient of his occasional smiles, because Henry was not just the gentle-giant she got to see. Neither do I believe "Richard was on the same frequency as Henry" because they had a shitty childhood (tbh all of them probably did?) and because Henry saved his ass from freezing. Henry was more so his rage and the anger he tried to keep sealed with the rest of himself, a destructive force trying desperately to reign himself in. Yes, he was not a bad person per se, but he was, like Bunny, a ticking time bomb (albeit a much more destructive one).

But even despite the anger and bitterness that later poisoned their relationship, I sometimes like to think of them whilst keeping in mind the fact that Bunny was the only one who could make Henry laugh. And Henry was the only one Bunny directly told about his past/home life. I think of them as freshmen, with Bunny's hair catching the sunlight in his lazy curls as his eyes crinkle and his tone rears back in preparation for a joke Henry doesn't see coming. And Henry, awkward in his detachment, with his nose in a book, trying to keep his lips from quivering up as the awful, stupid joke registers, and then failing to keep the chuckle from slipping through when Bunny's stupidly expectant face wriggles its eyebrows at him.

They were soulmates before they were friends.

And they were friends before they were enemies

[anon-sect]

Request Part 2

Hi, I love your stories and I was wondering if you could make a transformation story about socks and/or underwear based on these images here.

deviantart.com/sebleloot/art/Guy-in-white-socks-1103419665

Henry noticed his boyfriend of five years had been sort of silent the last few days. He didn't talk much with him at all. He was almost giving him the silent treatment. He wondered what could be bothering him.

"What's the matter, Leo? You haven't been yourself recently." Henry asked him, hoping for some answer other than a few words.

"Really, like you don't know?" Leo paused showing some frustration over the question. "So, you really are going to pretend that something didn't happen?" He added, pulling out his phone.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Henry quickly responded back curious as to what Leo was referencing. Leo pulled up a video on his phone and showed it to him. It was one of himself kissing another guy at the club several days ago. He recognized the guy as one of his ex-boyfriends. He then remembered that he had gotten really drunk that night and was making out with his ex before he realized it.

"This was sent to me by one of my friends on the night that you said you was working late at the office." Leo spoke, waiting for some kind of explanation.

"After work late, one of my coworkers invited me out to the club for some late-night fun. So, I was working late as I said." Henry paused his explanation. "I sort of ran into my ex and was really drunk after several drinks. I didn't know what I was doing till it was too late. I am really sorry, babe." He apologized to Leo.

"You should have come home instead of going out to the club. I am still upset regardless of how you end up kissing him." Leo wasn't accepting his apology.

"I really am sorry, babe. Forgive me." Henry spoke, noticing that Leo still wasn't accepting the apology. "Please, tell me how I can make it up to you. Anything." He added, basically pleading for his boyfriend to forgive him.

"Anything?" Leo asked him back.

"Yes, anything at all, just name it." Henry reiterated how sorry he was about the passionate kiss with his ex on a drunk night.

"There is one way to make it up to me. The only way actually." Leo opened up his TF Pro app. "Be my socks for a week and all is forgiven." He added as he put the setting in the app.

"But you promised never to use that app on me." Henry begged, realizing what would happen to him if he was turned into socks. He had smelled Leo shoes before, and it wasn't pleasant. "Maybe something else, baby?" He asked

"It's this or nothing." Leo quickly responded with a serious look on his face.

"Okay, one week." He reluctantly agreed as Leo hit the flash option. In an instant, he was quickly turned into a pair of socks. He felt himself being handled in Leo's hands. Next thing he knew he was fitted on to his boyfriend's feet.

"You feel really good as socks, babe. It will be only for a week though." Leo paused. "Gym time is going to be so much fun." He added and laughed.

Henry spent the rest of the day and night on Leo's feet and was hating it. Being walked on was so painful. It felt like every nerve ending was on fire. Being worn was even worse than he had imagined it would be like. Not to mention that his boyfriend's feet had a little odor on them. He was up close and personal with it.

The next morning, Leo removed Henry from his feet to bath but was put back on for going to the gym. He chose his favorite gym shoes to wear. He sniffed them and the odor strong and repugnant. The thought of Henry trapped in there for the next two hours made up for him having that passionate kiss with his ex. He finished getting ready and headed out to the gym.

Henry thought he was transported to hell. The odor was so strong, if he had nostrils, they were flair up like crazy. The insoles were so worn out that it hurt being crushed up against them. Combined that with the foot odor made it an unbearable prison to him. It wasn't until thirty minutes later that he realized it would be far worse. As Leo began an intense workout, his feet began to sweat. He was literally absorbing all that sweat. He was soon soaked in sweat and musk. He couldn't wait till the week was finally over.

ONE WEEK LATER.....

Leo hit the flash option and saw Henry reformed back into human form again. "How was it like being my socks for a week?" He asked him.

"Horrible. I don't ever want to go through with it ever again. You wore me every day and your gym shoes reek so bad. But at least you have forgiven me now." Henry spoke, feeling relieved his nightmare was finally over. He saw Leo smiling about something.

"Actually, it's not. You will be my socks several times out of the week for the next five years. Then you will be forgiven." Leo spoke ask he hit the flash option on his phone again. He placed the socks back on his feet. "I really do enjoy wearing you on my feet, babe." He spoke as he focused back on the tv show he was watching.

[lexirosewrites]

It has taken me forever to write this so sorry if it’s still garbage lol. I absolutely love slick Sundays to hopefully you like this one. 💖

When it was all said and done, none of them had really predicted this outcome. Max and Eddie went in both with a thinly veiled death wish. Yet they had come out with little more than some cuts and bruises, Max’s one broken leg, and surprisingly happy to be alive. No it was the bigger shock that when radioing in to check on the others, group bait and distraction, were the only ones to reply. Eddie and Dustin were confused especially with Max confirming El had done it, that Vecna was gone for good now. So where were they?

Steve, Robin, and Nancy had all went into the creel house. But only Robin and Nancy had actually physically stepped out of it. And as they frantically looked on the ground, they saw the two lumps laying there from where they had both went through the window. Henry’s tentacle like vines latching onto Steve dragging him through as he went down.

Robin began frantically trying to find a pulse pulling him away from the creature he had fallen with. Nancy stood frozen unsure of what to do her shock saturating her brain; Robins screams for her to do something finally snapped her out of it. Getting Steve out was the main priority. Based on height they each took an end and hauled him up. There was some publication about not moving someone who could have a neck or back injury until authorities got there, but time was ticking and the rise and fall of Steve chest only seemed to be getting shallower. Both girls already weak had only made it about half way when Nancy’s leg gave out almost toppling them all over.

They had turned their walkie off to be as quiet as possible but now, now Nancy was rushing to find it in their pack and turn it on, to scream for help. The static exploded from it as soon as she got onto the right channel, frantic questions of what was happening, where were they and to please come in. Cutting to the chase Nancy’s voice bellowed over, “Eddie you need to make it a little past lovers lake, we need your help carrying Steve, please get here as fast as you can.” She told them. Her voice was wet and wobbly gleaming with desperation as she sat there in the leaves.

Eddie left a very pissed off Dustin, explaining that one of them needed to go help while the other needed to figure out a way to safely get Steve back over the other side. As soon as he saw them he knew it wasn’t good. Steve lay looking lifeless head cradled in Robins lap as she looked down at him. Quite frankly Eddie wasn’t so sure Steve would make it out of this one. It was in that second that Eddie got an idea that was either his most brilliant, or his most incredibly stupid one to date. Eddie was going to bite Steve.

A mating bite in life saving circumstances was reported to have a 50/50 chance of helping. And fuck it, it didn’t hurt so why not try. Moving closer and kneeling down he finally made eye contact with Robin. “I’m gonna do something and it might not work, but it also might. And I need you to just trust me.” Her face visibly shuttered, but all she could say was “Anything”, voice hollowed out from crying. Not willing to wait any longer he leaned in inhaling Steve’s beautiful scent, and bit down.

Things after that were a blur. All he vaguely remembers was Nancy angrily pulling him off, only for him to snarl at her, followed by grabbing Steve bridal style and running. Next time he comes back to himself he’s confronted with the bright lights and sterile scent of Hawkins Memorial. Looking over relief floods his body, Steve lays there in a bed adjacent to his, hooked up to an IV and oxygen, but a steady beat rings out on his heart monitor. It worked. Holy shit it actually worked. Eddie promptly passes out again.

The next time eddie wakes up Wayne is beside him reading one of his old westerns. Remembering Steve is to his left Eddie looks over once again and is greeted by Steve’s hazy eyes staring back at him. Steves face quickly morphs into a dopy smile, the oxygen mask now replaced with tubes better fitted onto his face. “Hey there big guy, how ya feeling?” Eddie asked. “I’m soo good, sooo great. I’m alive and I have an alpha now, and I like him so so much. I’m so excited to have his babies and get married and move in together and kiss.”, Steve slurred back smile never leaving his face. Eddie couldn’t help the shocked look on his face, which quickly turned to the most manic grin. “Oh you can guarantee that your alpha is gonna do all that for you and more baby cakes, just you wait till I can get out of this bed sweet thing, I’ll be waiting on you hand and foot.” Not being able to look away from his omega Eddie could hear Wayne choke on his laugh trying to prevent the cackle he usually let out when Eddie was this unfiltered.

And when both of them had recovered, Steve no longer drugged and still completely in love with being mated to Eddie, Eddie made sure that Steve’s list was fully completed. With the government payouts they got a beautiful 5 bedroom house on the out skirts of town. It had enough room to grow into and an amazing back yard that Steve had already started plans for a garden, and a list of what flowers he wanted to plant. After Eddie’s immediate proposal upon their discharge they had a date set for a lovely fall wedding. However the list couldn’t be completed without the pupping of Steve. And maybe they blew that one out of the park by getting twins on the first try, neither of them aware that they had any duplicates in their families. Steve would be around 7 months at his wedding but to him that only makes it more perfect. As for the kiss. Well let’s just say Eddie can barely go 5 minutes without giving Steve a smooch, either it be on the lips or just about anywhere he can get his mouth on and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

marriage (or mating) of convenience is such an underutilized trope and we need more of it!! especially combined with omegaverse where those bonds create further fondness and love between partners. Steve not only got saved, but he gets to be loved and cherished by his alpha now😭💕

[llyfrenfys]

PLEASE TELL US ABOUT Y DDRAIG TRAWS!

Certainly! I'm more than happy to oblige.

First though I'm gonna need to tldr: the history of Y Ddraig Goch before we get onto the (accidentally) canonically trans part.

A brief history of Y Ddraig Goch:

(The modern Welsh flag)

Y Ddraig Goch first appears in the tales of the Mabinogi (Charlotte Guest version) in the tale of Lludd and Llefelys where it is fighting a white dragon. The fight is also described/expanded upon in the c. 829 AD text Historia Brittonum (attributed to Nennius) - where the red dragon represents Wales and the white dragon represents the Anglo-Saxons. In the story the red dragon triumphs over the white. Of course, Geoffrey of Monmouth also covers the story c. 1136 in Historia Regnum Brittaniae in which he introduces the concept of the red dragon heralding the arrival of King Arthur.

Geoffrey of Monmouth claims Arthur used a banner featuring a golden dragon. But we also know the accuracy of Monmouth can be questionable at times. Owain Glyndŵr did use a banner with a golden dragon called Y Ddraig Aur - raised in 1401 at Caernarfon - Glyndŵr chose this banner as a nod to the supposed banner of Arthur and his father.

Later on the Tudor monarchs (being a Welsh family) adopted a red dragon on a white and green background in their heraldry. Eventually Y Ddraig Goch on a white and green background became the official badge of Wales in 1800. The design became the official flag of Wales in 1959.

Y Ddraig Traws:

Now for the thing you're all here for -

So, as outlined, the history of the dragon as a national symbol of Wales goes back a long way. If we're just talking post-1959, there's some interesting implications for Y Ddraig Goch's depiction.

This is what the Welsh flag (and Y Ddraig Goch) looked like in 1959 when it was officially adopted as the flag of Wales. It looks broadly the same as the first flag and has some common features - such as not having a penis (or, as in the correct heraldic terminology - a pizzle). Meanwhile, in the arms of the Tudors (specifically Henry VII)

(Tudor dragon with pizzle) vs (dragon on the flag of Cardiff - pizzleless)

the penis is almost always included. So much to the point that the present royal family still includes the penis. While pretty much 0 depictions of the dragon in Wales include a penis. So you could interpret this as the dragon is seen as male only by the British royal family and as female everywhere else (which kinda implies that at some point the Tudor dragon had an mtf transition in Wales and she keeps getting misgendered by the royal family every time she is depicted in (mostly) England).

So much to the point that in 1995 this pound coin was made by the Royal Mint featuring the pizzle on the dragon with all four feet touching the ground as opposed to standing up (passant rather than rampant).

But in Wales you'd be hard pressed to see a pizzled dragon anywhere. Ergo, we can only conclude Y Ddraig Goch is trans and she transitioned in Wales and keeps getting misgendered in England.

[note: This is mostly tongue in cheek - but I do think it's fun to extrapolate that the Welsh dragon is trans because of the differences in depiction between Wales and England. Like many things Welsh, it is misrepresented by England and the idea of the Welsh dragon being misgendered only in England is, I think, a good metaphor for a whole lot of English treatment of Wales.]

Unrelatedly, there is a gay Welsh flag held at the National Museum of Wales which has a very wonky dragon which I find very endearing.

(cleaned up version I made)

So much so I made it an emoji in my Welsh bilingual LGBTQIA+ Discord (requirements for joining are - be 16+, either speak or are learning Welsh and identify as LGBTQIA+ in some way. Dm for link!).

(triaist ti 'you tried' emoji)

~ Completely unrelatedly ~ never forget the time someone was trying to homophobic to me by suggesting that I was disrespecting all the soldiers who died 'for the Welsh flag' by making it rainbow colours and not red - arguing that any change of colour of the dragon was disrespectful. Reader, my bus pass at the time for Mid Wales Travel had a purple dragon on it.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Yandere Prince x Witch! Reader

TW: Drugging (Love Potion), dubcon

Wanna buy me a coffee?: ☕

Once upon a time, in a land full of magic, a witch is in her tower stirring liquid in her cauldron.

"Ok, my seafood boil should be ready," You say, wiping the sweat off your head.

Your phone rings from the counter, and zap it so it answers the call.

"Y/N, we've gotta go to this ball!" Your friend, Ella, full name Eleanor Charming, exclaims, making you roll your eyes.

"Ella, just because your family has extreme luck finding love at balls, doesn't mean I will. Besides, I like living in the woods. The princess with powers and Eduardo are good friends. I babysit their kids sometimes, real firecrackers," You respond, tying your hair up. "Now, if you excuse me, I have crab legs to eat."

"Too late, I already magiced up a dress for you!" Ella exclaims, appearing behind you. "Boom!" 

White light hits you, and suddenly, your comfy purple pajamas are replaced with a long, purple ball gown with black lace covering the front. You have long, black latex gloves and thigh-high high-heel shoes swirling around your legs made from crystal. Your hair is in a bun and is held by an ornament resembling thorns. 

"You really chose a look that says I'm from the Woods, huh?" You question, walking to Ella. 

"Yes, I did. Now, come on, we're about to be late!" Ella giggles, grabbing your hand and running to the black Mercedes outside your castle. "I modified the animal into carriage spell into something more modern."

You buckle your seatbelt, and Ella speeds off to the prince's castle. As you wait in the line of limos, you redo your lipgloss and spritz a bit of perfume to get the crab smell of your skin. 

"It's our turn, get ready!" Ella squeals, giving the car to the valet.

"Princess Ella Charming and her friend, Lady Y/N L/N!" The announcer yells as the two of you walk into the ball.

"Wow, this place is bright," You comment, looking at all the jewels, lights, and glamor.

"I know, right? It's so we can glimmer as we dance," Ella exclaims, dancing away with a man.

"Well, I've been left alone," You grumble, grabbing a glass of wine and walking to the hallway.

While exploring the castle, you find a path leading to the royal garden. You see a handsome man with blonde hair, tan skin, and greenish-blue eyes crying near a large fountain with a mermaid spitting water. You realize it's Prince Henry's younger brother, Prince Helio.

"Henry...why did you have to go?" He cries, making you feel sorry for him.

"Uh, hi! Sorry to interrupt your crying session, but would you mind me asking what's wrong?" You ask, revealing yourself. 

"Oh, sorry. I'm supposed to be out there finding a queen to rule with, but I'm out here crying over my brother. Henry was such a good older brother to me. He helped me with studies and sword training, but then he went into those woods and never came back. Now, here I am about to be king alone with only my mom and dad as family," The young man weeps, wiping tears from his face.

You knew what happened to the former Prince Henry. Everyone in the Woods did. But, it's things like this that are the reason people like you live in the Woods.

"I'm sure your brother misses you dearly. Even if he can't come back, I'm sure he'd want you to be a good king to your people," You comfort him, handing him your glass of wine. "Besides, it's your party. Wouldn't exactly want to let everyone down, would you?" 

"You're right. I, Prince Helia, shall make this the best pre-engagement party in this kingdom. Now, do you desire another drink, love?" 

"Yes, and just so you don't have to keep calling me love, my name is Y/N L/N."

Prince Helia leaves to get a cup of wine for you, and he pulls out a pink vial from his cape and pours it into your wine. He shakes the cup a little and lets the potion settle into the wine. He smiles lustfully, knowing he'll have the eternal love, the fairy tale ending he always wished for.

"Here's your class of wine, princess," Helia says, passing you the drink while he secretly pours the rest of the vial into his wine. "To happy endings!"

"To the Woods!" You proclaim, wrapping your arm around his to do your toast.

"To love!" You and Heli exclaim, drinking the wine.

When the wine travels down your throat, the potion takes effect immediately. You feel dizzy, and your wine falls to the ground. You fall, and Helia catches you.  

"My love, are you ok?" Prince Helia asks, holding you in his arms as he feels his heart beating. 

"Helia~" You moan, sitting up and leaning in to kiss him.

You kiss Helia, and it's like you both have lost control of your body and emotions. The kiss feels so good, you could've sworn you are in heaven. His hands roam your body as your tongues intertwine. Spit comes out of both of yours and Helia's mouths, and his short blonde hair ruffled as your hands run through it.

"I love you. I love you. I love you!" Helia chants, his kisses trailing down your neck. 

"Ah-ah~" You moan, sticking your neck out as leaves his mark.

Helia undoes your corset, and he throws it to the side. Your dress falls to your waist, leaving your breasts bare for him to see. You quickly shimmy off the rest of the dress and kiss Helia again.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, darling," Helia compliments, his eyes full of lust and love. "I need to worship your body. Come here and let your prince worship every inch and imperfection of your body and soul."

"Yes, my love," You reply, straddling Helia.

Your beloved prince traces every part of your body with his hand and circles the beauty, birth, and stretch marks. He kisses your clavicle, breasts, armpits, every body part on the way down to your pussy. When he finally reaches your clothed sex, Helia kisses it. 

"Helia, I'm-"

"A virgin? I know. But that doesn't matter because I would've loved you even if you weren't. I love everything about you. Your stretch marks, your body hair, even your scars."

Helia gently takes off your underwear and spreads your legs. He deeply kisses the entrance of your pussy, and he inhales the scent of it. His tongue enters your vagina, and your body can't help but react. Your back arches and your hands grip the stone steps. As Helia eats you out, your hips buck into his face. Helia speeds up his licking, and you suddenly start to feel weird.

"Helia, I feel strange!" You moan, sitting up.

"It's ok, my love, embrace that feeling," Helia replies, giving one last kiss to your pussy and kissing your inner thighs as you cum.

Helia begins to strip, and his clothes go flying off. His six-inch cock drips with precum, and you instantly want it in you.

"I'll be gentle. I know it's your first time. God, I can't wait to make love to you and give our kingdom an heir," Helia says, crawling towards you and lining up with your entrance.

You lift your legs to give him room, and he holds your hands. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he kisses you deeply. 

"I'm going to enter you. Tell me if there's any pain," Helia states, slowly inserting his dick in you.

You twitch in pain, and Helia's hands are on your face. He kisses you again, and you kiss him in return.

"I'm ready, Helia," You say, looking at his beautiful green eyes. "I'm ready for you."

Helia thrusts slowly, panting and moaning as if your body is sweet nectar. His steady rhythm of thrusting sends your body into ecstasy.

"Mm~ Helia," You moan, feeling Helia's cock move in your pussy and kisses on your neck.

"Are you enjoying me, my love?" Helia questions, speeding up the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Yes! Yes!" You exclaim, loving your high.

Your toes begin to twitch, and hearts appear in your and Helia's eyes. Helia's thrusts speed up, as do his kisses. Love bites cover your neck as Helia reaches his orgasm.

"I-I love you, my-my princess! I love you!" Helia stammers, climaxing and cumming into your pussy. His legs twitch as he orgasms.

"Oh-oo-ah-Helia!" You scream, your toes curling from the release and your pussy tightening around Helia's dick.

Helia kisses you, tears flowing from his eyes as he rides out his climax. When he's done, his sweaty body rests on yours.

"I love you. I-I love you so much, Y/N. I want to be with you forever. I need you," Helia rambles, resting his head on your chest.

"I know, my prince. I know," You pant, rubbing Helia's head.

~~~~~~~~~

After your passionate session with Prince Helia, your prince covers both of you with his cape. He's been kissing your skin since fucking you, holding you in his arms as if you would go away.

"I'll announce our engagement tomorrow, and we'll be married next week," Helia says, kissing your hand, knuckles, and fingers.

You fall asleep in your prince's arms, and he kisses you goodnight. 

"Goodnight, my darling."

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 23 - The Dutch Anthem on Repeat

Guys, I think I can finally upload on a regular basis if I can do every Friday and Wednesday? If that's ok? I'm hoping that it will work well for everyone!

This chapter made me laugh, and I remember someone asking for more Grandpa Nando so he makes a good appearance in this one!

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Please enjoy!

Max, along with everyone, was used to hearing the Dutch National Anthem. Sure, everyone joked that it was the Formula 1 outro, but that was life. It wasn’t Max’s fault that he kept winning. Everyone just needed a new and better car to keep up. As he walked into the garage, he knew he was expecting to possibly hear it at the very end of Sunday. 

What he didn’t expect was when his foot hit the concrete, the song started blasting through the speaker. The mechanics were trying to hid giggles behind their hands as they watched the confused driver try to find where the sound was coming from. When it suddenly stopped, he got even more confused. 

He looked at the mechanics. 

“Have you seen the kid anywhere?” 

Henry, one of the men that worked on your car, responded, “She’s been in her room since she got here this morning.” 

Max let out a tight “thanks” before heading that way. He expected you to be hiding something, but you were peacefully taking a nap with your headphones on. The gag gift that he got you, a blanket with his face all over it, was curled up in your hands. His eyes softened as he walked over to gently wake you up. You did promise him lunch for that day. 

He rocked you a bit until you woke up. 

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up. “Hey Max.” 

A yawn escaped your lips. 

“Kid, you don’t have anything to do with the fact that the Dutch anthem played when I walked in?” 

“Huh?” you questioned, still really sleepy. 

Max just let it go. You seemed like you didn’t know what was going on. You quickly got ready, placing your race suit at your hips. 

When Max’s foot hit the concrete again, the anthem started to play. A groan left his lips as you looked around. 

The Dutchman looked down at you. “You had nothing to do with this?” 

You looked up at the older driver. “Nico took my boombox privileges away when I scared him last week.” 

You seemed pretty dejected at the thought of losing your boombox. 

Max just quickly kept walking out of the garage with you on his tail. The two of you conversed as you made your way to hospitality. You knew that Max had the priority for this race. It was his second home and you knew he wanted a win after what happened in Belgium. 

“So I’m thinking of holding a party after Monza at the house. What do you thing?” 

Max thought for a moment. 

“That’s a good idea. You going to take a car to the circuit.” 

You beamed at him. “Thinking of bringing the spaceship. What do you think?” 

Max opened the door to the hospitality, and before he could answer, the Dutch anthem started to play once again. He stopped dead in his tracks, causing you to thud into his back. 

You snorted as you heard the song play, causing Max to whip around. 

His eyebrow arched. “Sure you don’t have anything to do with this?”

You only shook your head before pushing past him, wanting to get lunch as quickly as possible. Max followed, suspiciously glaring at anyone who looked guilty. 

Lando was sitting in the corner, animatedly telling a story to Oscar, who looked dead inside (but was politely listening). 

In the middle, Lewis, Charles, and Carlos were all playing on their phones, empty plates sitting in front of him.

Max’s eyes looked back up to see you talking to Fernando. Your eyes were wide as you talked to the Spaniard. He made his way over to the line and grabbed a tray. With each step he took, he was nervous about setting off something that would start the song. When he walked to the table, he just looked at the chair. 

“Everything all right Max?” Lando asked from the corner, making everyone look at the Dutchman. His cheeks reddened under everyone’s gaze. 

You bit into your sandwich. “Each time he’s walked into or out of a building, the Dutch national anthem plays.” 

“Sure it does,” Charles said, finally looking up from his phone. 

Now annoyed, Max sat down. Surprisingly nothing happened. He let out a content hum before biting into his food. 

However, the moment he took a bite, it stated to play again. Rounds of laughter fell from everyone’s lips as he sat there, looking sad with a bite of food in his mouth. 

Not wanting to sit anymore, he stood up abruptly and walked out with the tray. Yet, the song started over once he opened the door. A loud huff left his lips, which made everyone start laughing again. 

What he failed to notice was a camera set up in the corner of the room. You turned and looked at it, giving it a thumbs up. 

You wiped a tear from your eye. “Aw man, now he’s going to be mad.” You looked at one of the media personelle who was standing in the corner. He took the camera and just gave you a smile. 

“He’ll be mad at us, not at you.” 

You crossed your arms, not convinced in the slightest. Fernando gave you an upside down smile. 

“Come on niña, I’ll take you to Max.” 

He stood from the table, waiting for you to follow. Yet, you shook your head. 

“Nando, he’s going to be mad and all grumpy and I’m going to be at the receiving end of it in the car. He’s taken Charles out too many times.” 

“Hey!” 

Your eyebrows pinched as you looked up at the green-clad driver. Your eyes then looked back down at your food. 

Fernando sighed, knowing you weren’t going to budge. He turned around and walked out, without the Dutch national anthem playing. He stalked toward the Red Bull garage and was able to walk in. 

Every loved Fernando and had great respect for him. 

“Anyone know where I can find Max?” 

Christian spoke up from the corner. “He’s in his room. Is everything ok?” 

Fernando sighed as he rubbed his head. “For a prank, they got someone to play the Dutch National anthem every time Max did something. He got tired of it, so he stormed out. Now the kid thinks that he’s going to be mad at her all weekend. I’m just here to explain because she’s a bit nervous.” 

Christian had a sympathetic look on his face. He was sad that you thought that Max would ever be mad at you for something so trivial. 

The Briton nodded his head in the direction of Max’s driver room. “Second door on the left.” 

Fernando thanked him, before heading that way. He knocked once before the door swung open, sadly causing the anthem to play once again. 

Max deadpanned as he waited for the song to stop. 

“Is everything ok Fernando?” the Dutchman asked, trying to look around to see if you were there as well. His heart sank a bit when you weren’t seen. 

The elder sighed. “So your team thought it’d be a good video to play the anthem every time you did something.” 

Max winced. “Oh I know.” 

Fernando looked at him weirdly. 

“You don’t think I saw the dude with the camera in the corner of the garage or hospitality?” 

The Spaniard nodded. He knew a thing or two for spotting cameras on him. You get used to it after being in the field for so long. 

“Well, the kid thinks you were going to be mad if you knew that she was in on it.” 

Max’s eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. “Oh no no no. Doesn’t she know when I can tell that she’s not sleeping? She’s taken so many naps around me, that I know when she’s actually asleep.” 

Max had known from the beginning, since you never woke up so quickly. It always took a few nudges, not just one. And your headphones were off and you barely flinched when he approached you. He was actually amused that you had gone through all the trouble to seem innocent.

Fernando let out a long sigh. “I told her that you wouldn’t be angry or frustrated.” 

Max had a determined look. “Let’s go find her. She’s probably either in the Ferrari garage or McLaren.” 

“She’s in the Williams garage.” 

Max turned around. “How do you know this?” 

“It was supposed to be a joke, but she put me on her Life360. Said I was getting old and was at a higher risk of crashing outside of work.” 

Max let out a deep laugh at the imagination of you downloading Life360 onto Fernando’s phone. 

The two walked out of the garage (this time the anthem did not play) and toward Williams. The two got to catch up on something before they arrived. 

They saw the Thai driver first. 

“Alex have you see Y/n anywhere?” Max questioned, catching him off guard. 

He said nothing, but subtly tilted his head toward the back where Logan was awkwardly standing behind a box. Max’s eyes lit up at he looked at the American, who had a nervous look on his face. 

Max put a finger to his lips and saw Logan barely nod. He gingerly crossed the room and looked down. Behind said box, you were clinging to Logan’s leg, playing a game. 

He heard you snicker to yourself. “Max will never find me here.” 

“Sure kid.” 

He could have sworn he saw your soul leave your body as you jumped off of Logan’s leg. The American rolled his eyes before lifting you off the ground and placing you in front of the Dutch driver.

“I think this belongs to you.” 

All in the back, Fernando and Alex stood laughing behind their hands. 

You looked back at Logan. “Traitor.”

“Come on kid.” 

Max gently led you back to the Red Bull garage, but not without thanking Fernando for his help. The Spaniard only patted his back before returning to his own garage. Max watched as you begrudgingly walking in front of him. He quickened his steps to be right beside you. 

“I can hear your grumpiness from over here,” he tried to joke, yet stopped when he saw barely there tears in your lash line. 

He cooed as he tried to not let you cry.

“Kid I thought it was funny.” 

“Are you sure? You looked super unhappy after lunch.” You looked down and kicked a stone. 

“Y/n.” 

Oh, he said the name (and not the nickname). 

You sheepishly looked up at him. 

“I’m not mad. And if I was, I’d take it out on the media team and not you.” 

You smiled just a bit. “Promise?” 

“Promise. Now, let’s go kick some ass so we can listen to the Dutch National Anthem on the podium.” 

Race Results: 

Max Verstappen – 25 points 

Y/n L/n – 18 points 

Charles Leclerc – 16 points (fastest lap) 

Lewis Hamilton – 12 points 

Oscar Piastri – 11 points 

Alex Albon – 8 points 

George Russell – 6 points 

Logan Sargeant – 4 points 

Lance Stroll – 2 points 

Lando Norris – 1 point 

Fernando Alonso 

Niko Hulkenberg 

Kevin Magnussen 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Pierre Gasly 

Yuki Tsunoda 

Esteban Ocon

Valtteri Bottas 

Zhou Guanyu 

Carlos Sainz – DNF (engine failure) 

Champions Standings 

Max Verstappen – 309 points 

Charles Leclerc – 268 points 

Lando Norris – 190 points 

Y/n L/n – 181 points 

Carlos Sainz – 130 points 

Oscar Piastri – 118 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 105 points 

Alex Albon – 56 point 

George Russell – 54 points 

Fernando Alonso – 45 points 

Logan Sargeant – 36 points 

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points 

Lance Stroll – 17 points 

Pierre Gasly - 12 points 

Valtteri Bottas – 13 points 

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Zhou Guanyu – 1 point 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Kevin Magnussen 

Esteban Ocon 

Constructors Championship 

 Red Bull – 490 points 

Ferrari – 398 points 

McLaren – 308 points 

Mercedes – 159 points 

Williams – 92 points 

Aston Martin – 62 points 

Alpha Tauri – 31 points 

Alpha Romeo – 14 points 

Alpine – 12 points 

Haas – 0 points 

The cool wind of the Netherlands brushed up against your face as you stood on the second step. If your math was correct, you were still behind Lando in the championship by only 9 points. You’d make it up as long as you didn’t DNF for the rest of the season. 

You smiled as you heard the Dutch National Anthem for the umpteenth time that day. Your shoulders started to shake as it continued playing, which made Charles look at you and start laughing as well. Max watched with a grin on his face as you couldn’t contain yourself.

To the people down below, it looked like you were crying since you were wiping tears away (which you were, but the tears were from laughing too hard). Their hearts ached as you were on the second step once again, and not the top one. 

But, you were having the time of your life, spraying Max and Charles with loads of champagne. You were on a high right now, and nothing would stop it. You knew that later that night, you’d stay awake going over data and sim times. 

Because that second step was sweet, but the top step would be even sweeter. 

And you needed the win. 

You were starving. 

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing no broken trophies this year - orange army you were good to us

liked by y/n.nation, dutch4max, orangearmynation, and 390,204 others

maxmaxmax_super DUTCH ANTHEM YASSSSS

maxie&kid best 1-2 honestly

lastlap_lando NOT THE BROKEN TROPHIES COMMENT

landonorris how many times do I have to apologize?

y/n.89 give it a few years, he still hasn't forgiven me for accidentally eating his stroopwaffle maxverstappen1 BECAUSE IT WAS THE LAST ONE y/n.89 YOUR NAME WASN'T ON IT

y/n&co when are RB going to give her a win?? for real???

best_rookie ROOKIE WIN ROOKIE WIN ROOKIE WIN

y/n.nation WE NEED A WIN?? ADMIN? AUTHOR?? author CALL DOWN - LET ME COOK

autodromonazionale_monza a presto! Viaggi sicuri!

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

[starboye]

pairing: prince henry x male reader

request: hey if you have room for a red, white and royal blue fic. Could you do a henery x male reader who is a photographer and is hired to take pictures for the royal family because Henry has s fat crush on him

warnings: none

it was really nice working for the royal family, they had good hospitality, and were incredibly nice, plus the pay was amazing so it would have been insane to not take a photography job from them, all you had to do was snap a couple pictures of their beloved and sometimes stuck up child prince henry.

it was a little bit of a challenge navigating the castle but you did end upo finding the place you were supposed to take the photos at, you set up your gear and camera and just as you finished henry walked in "oh hi mr henry i was just putting the last touches on everything" you say with a smile standing up straight to shake his hand, henry stood there dumbfounded by your good looks "sir" you chuckle.

he snaps back to reality and shakes your hand firmly, maybe a little to firmly as you had to pull your hand out of his tight grip "sorry just a little nervous" he nervously chuckles obviously awkward "oh, well nothing to be scared of just gotta take some quick pictures" you reassure sweetly.

"okay" he calms down a little "alright so stand right there on the little x and then do a nice pose" you say fixing the camera to look at him, he poses and you take a couple pictures before leaning up to examine them "are they good" henry asks "not really you just look a little to tense" you reply.

an idea pops in your head right then "lets do some silly poses to lighten the mood' you say "really" henry says not amused by the idea "yes really it'll work" you say setting the camera back down and aligning it with henry "do something like this" you say doing a crazy pose that makes henry laugh and after some hesitation he agrees and does it.

you laugh at the boys silly pose which makes him burst out laughing "okay okay now lets take these pictures" you say still chuckling lightly before snapping some pictures of henry in a more calmed and laid back state "perfect" you say turning the camera to show henry the pictures to which he agrees with you.

as you're admiring the photos to make sure they're all good henry quickly glance at your face, the way it looks,how soft your hair must feel, and your lips oh. my. god. he wanted to kiss you so bad but refrained from doing so, he turned his gaze away as you turn to look up at him "so i guess we're done here" henry questions.

"yeah i think thats pretty much it" you say before packing up your stuff and putting them into their bags, henry standing there fiddling with his cuff links nervously wanting to ask you out but not having the courage "your pictures should in the mail by tomorrow" you say as you head towards the door.

"wait" henry blurts out "yes"you question turning around "what if i come by your place and pick them up myself" henry shyly says "oh yeah sure" you agree "and maybe after we can get dinner" he adds "are you asking me on a date" you ask walking closer to henry "yeah i guess i am" henry says before you kiss him on the cheek "well then its a date" you smile before walking out, henry could feel his face heat up as he blushed and thought of the date tomorrow