#paper tea wraps

[greenelight]

mason during the xmas season has no family nearby ( his uncle trenton is the only person he talks to but he lives in colorado ), so he & his co-workers always do a fun lil xmas party together with a potluck, a white elephant & even wine / painting (since most of the shelf indulgence crew are artists). many of the people in their circle aren't accepted by family, have cut ties, or family has passed (stacey being the youngest is in college and is close to her fam but they live across the country), so it's nice to have a chosen family that you can enjoy your holiday with.

[supercantaloupe]

frozen bao are clutch when you need breakfast Now but don't want to cook

[krystaldeath]

Me to my mom: Yeah I’m gonna wrap your gift from dad even though you know what it is so you have /something/ to open on Christmas

Me now, remembering I’m really bad at wrapping gifts: Uh Oh… Oh No…

[mashmouths]

save me mango yogurt

[mildmayfoxe]

i was feeling absolutely awful earlier (in the brain) but made myself leave the house & take a little walk to to catch the closing sale at the local employee-owned art store before it’s closed for good and while there i got some different papers and, miraculously, some relief ink (fully expected it to be wiped out) (half price!) (see below) PLUS i also got the phone number of the manager who’s a friend of a friend & ive run into at markets- she told me she’d put more ink aside for me if i let her know which ones i was thinking about 😭

and then on my walk home i accumulated various food objects:

and then when i GOT home there was a box from my sister full of christmas gifts incl. LOTS of tea from both my siblings (i asked them for local chais) & a bunch of the snacks i’d got from nuts dot com for THEM that they apparently tried first & then sent to me

so all is not lost. peace & love on planet earth

[fallenangelfish]

This ink looks so good, but the pen is the most finicky little bitch I have ever met, so if anyone has any alternatives for opaque gold pens, I’d love to hear ‘em, because I have a lot of shit that needs gold ink

[proustianrevelry]

Need someone to scoop me up in their arms like a handful of yellow crayyins and feed me into that machine

I think you should watch this

[oediex]

I've had a box for twenty years or so filled with tea bag wrappings. My family started collecting them after my grandmother went into assisted living, and we found out she had several booklets with instructions on tea bag folding. Origami, but with the paper wrappings that tea often comes in where I live.

One year ago today, in a deafening silence, my nephew was born. The day before, three weeks before he was due, he had died in my sister's womb. The weeks that followed were pretty surreal. Mourning a person we hadn't met, but who we'd been waiting for for months. I remember how, just days before it happened, I had expressed my excitement to friends over welcoming another member to our family. I love children. I loved this one already.

My sister chose the moon on his birth announcement card. A big, white full moon against the dark blue night sky. Two years earlier, she had chosen the sun to represent her firstborn. It was fitting. So a few weeks ago, when I bought some tea that came in white paper wrappings, I wondered if I could remake his birth announcement card, but with tea bag wrappings. I had been itching to get back into it for a while now.

This afternoon, I finally got to work. Scissors, a glue stick, some folding, some ripping. I had conceived of a tea-bag-folded moon and a dark blue collage background. The former I created with eight of the white paper wrappings that I had recently acquired. For the background, I was happy to find that twenty years ago, my family had drank quite a bit of blackcurrant as well as forrest fruit tea. I ripped their wrappings into tiny pieces and patiently glued them to the piece of drawing paper I had cut to size.

While I was working, it was unclear if my vision would bear fruit. I had done tea bag folding before, creating stars and flowers to adorn a birthday or Christmas card. But combining it with a collage background from torn paper tea bag wrappings was entirely new.

Happily, the result is stunning, if may say so myself, and definitely worth another try. I better start drinking more tea.

[miss-floral-thief]

Maybe I can get a lychee smoothie

[connorsui]

If your passions called, Simon would answer. Boxes arrived while he was gone, filled with fresh journals for your poems, new pens for your writing, and all kinds of baking supplies to spark your creativity. He wanted you to always feel his presence, even if he was half a world away, each package a testament to his unwavering affection. When he returned, you would often slip him small, handwritten notes—your own words of love and encouragement—folded neatly, and he’d keep them close to his heart, tucked in a pocket as if they were a part of him. The others joked about him looking like a:

“proper husband”

for always stopping to read your handwriting, touching every letter as if every word you wrote was a treasure on its own.

There were nights, long ones, when you’d catch him sitting at the kitchen table, leafing through a scrapbook you’d made during his deployment. Pictures of the two of you, your annotations in the margins, your thoughts and memories, capturing moments he hadn’t even noticed you were holding onto. He’d touch each page, almost reverently, lingering on the edges like he was afraid his touch might ruin the paper. And when you’d join him, sliding into his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, he’d tuck his face into your shoulder, silent, holding you close as if you were the only thing grounding him to this world.

Simon never argued with you; never needed to. He believed in “happy wife, happy life” with a fervency others might never understand. If you didn’t like something, he’d change it without hesitation. If you felt uncomfortable going out he would take you back home in his arms, helping you out of your dress with gentle hands, making your favorite tea in the kitchen, casting you warm, lingering glances as you sipped your cup by his side with the prettiest smile he swears he has never seen before in his life.

There were times you’d tease him, testing the boundaries of his devotion with light-hearted remarks about your whims. But no matter what you said, he never wavered. If anything, his dedication seemed to intensify, his love quiet but resolute, unwavering in the face of your every wish. You could see it in his eyes, the way they softened whenever he looked at you, as though you were the only person in the world he wanted, needed. To Simon, you were perfection, and nothing you did could ever change that.

When it came to intimacy, Simon was utterly faithful. At night, his hands would roam your form reverently, memorizing every curve, every detail he’d missed in his months away. When you traced the veins on his neck, his breaths came out heavy, the weight of his love pressing down on him. Your touch left him trembling, his normally steady hands shaking as he held himself over you, eyes dark with an almost sacred devotion as he rocked into you with slow, deep movements that left him weak.

When you’d murmur his name, kiss his scarred knuckles, and hold him close, Simon felt himself unraveling in your arms, reduced to nothing but his love for you. His broad, muscular form sank against you, a sturdy weight softened by your warmth, and he’d surrender completely, letting you hold him, a silent confession of his trust and vulnerability.

In the stillness of those moments, he would remember a time when he hadn’t believed in softness when life had taught him only to take and endure. But now, in your arms, Simon Riley found a new truth: that he could give, could cherish, and, most of all, could love without fear. And as he drifted to sleep, wrapped in your love, he knew that he had finally found his purpose—not in battle, nor vengeance, but in this quiet, steadfast devotion to the woman who had taught him that he was worthy of peace.

[bi-writes]

Simon short circuiting when his mail order bride does something kind for him :)) uses her new credit card to buy him his favorite tea and cat treats for bonding with his new baby <3

mail-order bride

simon lets out a deep breath as he slips his boots off. he pulls his tact vest over his head, dropping it beside his shoes before rolling out his neck. he's exhausted. he's been awake for 36 hours at least, and not even a few hours ago, he had been camped out on a rooftop with nothing but his sniper rifle for company.

you pad into the living room, dressed in cute cherry-printed pajamas. little shorts with a matching short-sleeve top, and you smile shyly when you see him standing by the door. your eyes wander a little; you've never seen him with his gear on, and he's surprised you're not more startled by the skull mask he's wearing.

his head darts to the side when he sees the cat hopping along the shelves on the wall. the cat launches itself off the closest shelf, landing on the back of his shoulders and nuzzling along the back of his head before dropping onto the floor to weave between his legs.

"welcome home," you say softly, coming closer, and simon just nods. you reach up when you get closer, slipping your hands under his hoodie to find the hem of his mask. you pull it up gently over his head, smiling a little wider when you reveal his face underneath. he has eye-black smudged around his eyes, but otherwise, your husband looks his normal self, aside from the dark circles under his eyes.

you understand immediately that simon isn't in a good mood. he's irritated, tired, sour-faced and agitated. you smooth your hands down his chest before kneeling on the carpet. simon blinks, confused, but then he watches as you start to unbuckle the holsters around his thighs. you get him undressed enough that he's just wearing his jeans and his hoodie, and he takes your hand gently to help you stand back up. you hook your pinkie around his, guiding him to take a seat on the couch before you disappear into the kitchen.

simon leans his head back against the couch, shutting his eyes gently. to come home to a warm place, one filled with another person, it's frighteningly comforting. he has always come home to the dark. to the heater off and all the rooms empty. to silence and his own terrifying thoughts.

"simon?"

he opens his eyes and sits up a little, blinking the sleep away as you come closer. he hums when he sees you holding a mug, walking slow as you try and keep it steady. you hand him the mug, watching as he takes a slow sip of it.

he shuts his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. it's perfect. he's never told you how he prefers his tea, but it's got just a splash of milk and nothing more. the thoughtfulness warms him more than the drink does, and he curls his toes a little as he tries not to think about it too hard.

"oh!" you smile. "i-i...i filled your car up, and i-i got you something when i went to get a water."

you scurry towards your purse by the door, rummaging through it before you pull out a little crinkled paper bag. you sit next to him on the couch and hand it to him after he sets his tea down on the coffee table.

he reaches into the bag and wraps his hand around a little plastic trinket, pulling it out. he blinks, hooking a gloved finger through the little keychain he's holding. he holds it up, face neutral, but after a few moments, a low chuckle leaves him.

it's a little skeleton, and the bones of it wiggle and dance when he shakes it.

"i...i thought of you when i saw it," you laugh a little, and he watches as the cat hops up onto your lap, moving over your legs to sniff at the little skeleton simon is holding up. after a few moments, the cat reaches up with a paw and smacks the skeleton, watching it shake and wiggle before smacking it again.

"yeah?" simon murmurs, meeting your eyes. "you miss me?"

"y-yes...yeah. w-we missed you."

[spatialwave]

...is it possible to love you both?

➸ ask: "Haii! I love your writing, could I request JayvikxReader please? Maybe something fluffy, like a cozy winter morning with them? Or something smutty, like Reader and Jayce making Viktor feel good? Maybe add some angst, he feels like he is not as attractive or is a third wheel so you two make sure he knows you both love him? 🙈 Thank you!" – ➸ pairing: jayvik x fem!reader ➸ word count: 2.1k ➸ tags: mdni! mild-nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, polyamory, canon-divergent a.k.a. nothing bad ever happens lol. ➸ notes: i tried to combine all the ideas together! not as smutty because i really got invested in the angst… i’m sorry 😭 tysm for sending an ask! <3

The smell of freshly brewed black tea, the scent strong enough to flutter your eyes open as your body stretched across the bed. A mess of blankets, one body beside you, and the winter sun filtering through the half-shut curtains. The daylight on your skin warmed your body, a feeling that you had missed during the past few weeks of dreary weather that left most Piltover citizens huddled away indoors.

“Good morning,” a tired voice rumbled next to you, muscled arms wrapping around your body and tugging you close. You were nestled into Jayce’s chest, face pressed against his skin, and wanting nothing more than to fall right back into sleep and forget about the day and any responsibilities you may have.

“Mmh,” you grunted in response, inhaling a deep breath as you peered up through sleep-riddled eyes. Your eyes locked with Jayce’s, a beautiful colour mixed of golden hues that put the evening sun to shame, “I like this new look,” you hummed quietly, fingers tracing along the edge of the beard he had yet to shave. Even his hair had begun to curl over his ears.

“Yeah?” He grinned, revealing that stupid tooth gap between his two front teeth you loved so much, “I don’t know. I’m starting to feel a bit shaggy.”

The blanket slipped from your body as you sat up in the bed next to him, yawning as your arms outstretched above you and a familiar hand smoothed over your hip, “it looks good, Jayce,” you said through a soft smile, “it’s not like you have anyone to impress these days.”

“Ouch,” he smirked, shifting to sit up against the pillows, hand moving over your thigh as you sat next to him, “suppose you’re right.”

Life had been quiet since Jayce stepped down from the council, focusing full-time on hextech with Viktor, exploring the possibilities and understanding the hexcore. It was meticulous work, but it was work that needed to be done. They both vowed their lives to it.

“Where’s Viktor?” You looked toward the open bedroom door, the smell of tea still wafting through the air. He couldn’t have been gone from bed for too long, likely set up somewhere with scatterings of research papers. Or a good book if he was taking a break.

Jayce sat forward, removing his hand from you so he could push the blankets off and swing his legs off of the bed. His movements slow as his body slowly woke up, “Is it just me, or has he been distant lately?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, shuffling off of the bed and sliding into your slippers, the floorboards cool from the deep drops in temperature outside, “I tried asking him about it yesterday, and he brushed me off.”

“Mhm,” Jayce mumbled passively, stepping beside you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders to tug you against his chest, rousing a giggle from you. 

“Stop,” you laughed loudly as he kissed at your neck and ear, the thick hair on his face tickling you.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled lowly into your ear, you could feel his smile on your skin, “we better go say good morning.”

“Already ahead of you,” you rolled your eyes, peeling away from his arms and stepping out into the hallway that lead you right to him. There he sat in the office they’d set up for home, hunched over the desk with a cup of steaming tea and eyes glued to one of the hundreds of research notebooks they’d collected.

“Good morning, love,” you hummed, stepping into the mess of a room and smiling brightly as Viktor glanced over his shoulder at you. His eyes were tired, cheeks rather sunken in – ill. Over the course of the past few months he’d been struggling more, but stubborn when you and Jayce offered help.

“Morning,” he murmured, running a hand over his tired eyes, “thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

“I bet you would’ve really liked that, wouldn’t you?” You asked, shaking your head as you stepped toward him and against the back of his chair, eyes scouring over the pages, “Getting work done?” Your hand absently rested on his shoulder, the other brushing through his hair that flipped out at the ends.

Viktor’s body relaxed in your hands, eyes closing, “Not really,” he sighed, and you could feel the defeat that had sunken in him. 

You only then had realized Jayce didn’t follow you in, the distant sound of the shower starting.

“Hey,” you murmured, inhaling a deep breath as you moved to sit up on the desk, your line of sight above Viktor as you looked down at him, “what’s wrong?”

His eyebrows furrowed together, a quick shake of his head following as he adjusted himself on his seat, “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Viktor,” you tilted your head, hand stealing the book away from his hands. His eyes snapped open immediately, trying to reach for the notes, but you pulled it away and set it on the other side of yourself, “I’m not leaving you alone unless you talk with me. Properly this time.”

A heavy sigh came from his lips, looking up at you with the faintest of pouts on his lips, “are you going to ask me why I’ve been distant again? Or is it something else to bother me about this time?”

The words were sharp, but they hadn’t stung. You didn’t take it personally.

“You’re smart enough to know,” you frowned, clenching your jaw, “it’s not fair to Jayce and me.”

“What isn’t fair? That I’m feeling unwell?” Viktor has been angrier than you realized, but you didn’t flinch at his outburst. He grabbed his crutch, using it to pull himself out of his chair as the metal of his leg brace creaked, and you tried to help, but he swatted your hand away, “That I have to stay home everyday working on hextech, while Jayce gets to go to the lab? While you two get to spend all your time together while I stay here?”

“Oh,” your eyes widened, pulling your hands back and staring at him. You didn’t know what to say, and you noticed the embarrassed look in his eyes – shame.

“That’s not what I meant,” he muttered.

“Viktor, is that what this is about?” Your heart ached as you slid off of the desk, stepping up to him and resting your hands along the sharp lines of his jaw.

He tried turning his head away, but you had the advantage now and kept him still, looking up at him with those big doe-eyes that worked too well on him and made his stomach twist in the best way possible. He did his best to avoid your gaze, feeling nothing short of pathetic.

“Can we leave it be?” He eventually croaked, “pretend I didn’t say anything, please?”

“I ran a shower for you, Viktor,” Jayce stepped into the room, towel in his hand as he looked between you two. There was a tension in the room that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, “uh, bad time?”

“Thanks,” Viktor mumbled, pulling away from you and limping against his crutch as he took the towel and marched his way out of the office, slowly.

“Do you need a han–”

“No.”

Silence filled the office as Viktor left, leaving the two of you stunned in silence. Jayce turned toward you, a puzzled expression on his face as he tried to put the pieces together.

“We haven’t been good partners,” you groaned, turning to press your face against him, mind reeling for ways to remedy Viktor’s heartache. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt, having far too much privilege in this situation.

“Is he mad I’ve been spending too much time away?” He asked, ripping you from your thoughts, “I could bring some of the lab stuff home, or… or I could take some time off! Right?”

“No,” you let out a breathy laugh at his eagerness, one of the many traits of Jayce Talis that made you fall so madly in love with him, “well, maybe.”

“I can go right now,” he moved to turn.

“Jayce,” you laughed, holding him back from turning your home into the newest hextech laboratory and spending countless hours trudging through the snow with heavy equipment, “Baby steps. He’s been quite tired, lately. Maybe we should get him to bed and see if we can help him someway,” you wore a sly smile on your lips, attempting to push Jayce’s thoughts in the same direction as yours. 

He huffed out a laugh, “Sounds like you’re the worked up one trying to get what you want.”

You playfully hit his arm, “Oh, shut up. Like you aren’t, it’s been weeks. If we’re feeling it, then he is too,” you put your hands on his back, pushing him toward the door, “let me take care of it.”

You found yourself in the bathroom with Viktor, him sitting on a chair you’d slid in so you could help him. Help that he was appreciative of after taking time to de-stress.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes closed as you ran the towel through his hair, “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

Anger wasn’t a feeling that Viktor was so familiar with, it often fleeted right by him. He had always been so ambitious, ready to take on the world with a cup half-full mentality. These past few years had taken its toll on him, leaving him uncertain. 

Worried. 

“It’s okay, love,” you cooed, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead as he tilted his head back on the chair, looking up at you, “you should come rest with us. It’s cold out, we deserve a day in bed.”

You could see a spark flicker in his eyes, the first in days. That’s all you wanted, was to see that spark more often, to show Viktor that he wasn’t being left behind – that you and Jayce couldn’t even imagine a life without loving him like you do. That, itself, would be an injustice.

Once refreshed, you helped him to the bedroom with nothing more than a gentle hand on his back. Mindful about your actions, knowing now that as much as he hid it well, he had pride. A need to just feel normal, once in a while. Like he wasn’t just the sick man people saw him as – the sick man he knew he was.

Jayce was sitting up in bed, legs sprawled over the mess of blankets and a book in his hand. Eyes flickered up from the bed, a small smile on his lips as he sat up.

“There he is. The love of my life,” he beamed, snapping the book shut.

“Eh, that’s too much, Jayce,” Viktor sighed, cringing at the display of affection, and you snorted out a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, sitting up as he watched Viktor move into the bed and lay against the pillows, admiring him, “I can’t appreciate you?”

“You heard him, it’s too much,” you teased, closing the blinds so you could all hide away from the snowy surroundings. Take the time to focus on only each other.

Viktor looked up at Jayce, long lashes fluttering as a pink shade tinted his cheeks. One of his calloused hands gently rubbed along his slender waist where his ribs were visible, tilting down and wasting no time in closing the distance between their lips.

You crawled onto the other side of the bed, sliding against Viktor with ease, lips on his shoulders and hands exploring his body. You hoped you hadn’t been too eager.

“You don’t have to do this,” Viktor’s voice muffled against Jayce’s lips, frail hands pressing to his hardened chest, “I get it.”

“I want to,” Jayce answered earnestly, pulling back from their kiss, “I love you. You know that, right?”

“... I do.”

There was nothing else in the world that you and Jayce wanted more than to make sure that Viktor was loved and cared for, that his heart could be full when his mind and body felt weak. To know that you both unequivocally and unconditionally loved him, more than one should bear.

Viktor’s body was sensitive as you and Jayce ravaged him – tired and weak, but craving everything you two offered him. Eating up the desire like a starved man.

You straddled his hips, rocking atop of him lazily while Jayce pressed heady kisses along his neck, licking at the marks he left behind. Everyone was tired, paces slowing down and bodies spent, but you didn’t have the need to stop. You all made up for lost time, and you and Jayce showed Viktor just how much love you had for him.

“Thank you,” Viktor whimpered.

[superbat-love]

Bruce: Hey everybody! I’m back~

Green Lantern: Oh god. Who let this menace in?

Martian Manhunter: The man did sponsor this place.

Bruce: Greenie! You didn’t tell me you got engaged! [holds up his ring] Oh, this is beautiful. Who is your jeweller? I should totally get myself one too.

Green Lantern: Hey, give that back! [snatches the ring from him]

Bruce: Fine, gatekeep all you want. I’ll just ask the other Green Goblins. [tries to light up a cigar]

Green Lantern: No smoking in the Watchtower!

Startled, Bruce fumbles with his lighter. It falls onto a stack of paper, which catches on fire. Martian Manhunter runs out of the room screaming. Green Lantern quickly extinguishes the flames with his ring.

Green Lantern: Shit, those were Batman’s reports. He’s gonna kill us. Wayne, I think it’s best that you leave.

Bruce: [pouting] But I just got here.

Superman: Mr Wayne.

Bruce: Supey baby! Great work today! You must be thirsty after working out those buns of steel for the cameras, so I brought you some tea.

Superman: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on the suspiciously glowing green tea. Perhaps we should talk in the meeting room?

Bruce: Should have just told me you wanted me all to yourself… [tosses the drink into the hazardous waste bin and wraps his arms around Superman] Take me away, big guy!

Green Lantern: And don’t come back!

Superman: [sighing as he carries Bruce out of the room] Bruce, is it really necessary to do this every month?

Bruce: Hmph. The lack of vigilance is unacceptable. I should hold a refresher course on security measures again.

[pathologicalreid]

You write fluff and flangst absolutely amazingly and I’m in awe every dang time!

Buuut since you’ve got spring break coming up, a little fic idea that’s in my head that I’ll never do justice! (If you’re interested)

Fem!reader finding out an adorable way to tell Spencer she’s pregnant. I don’t care if they’re dating or married or what - but like she puts together a crossword, or a puzzle and he just doesn’t get it. (If you wanna throw angst in, he leaves without getting it for a case and then realizes it in the middle of the night.)

puzzling | S.R.

trying to tell Spencer you're pregnant, but he's too concerned with your well-being to fill out your custom crossword puzzle

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: pregnancy and misc. symptoms., talk of fainting and blood tests. word count: 1.69k a/n: welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda! i hope this does your request justice and thank you for entrusting me with this idea!!!! <3

you

It was your pride and joy, the collection of folded papers that sat on the kitchen counter, next to a cup of coffee that you had already filled for him.

On your fake newspaper, you had created a custom crossword puzzle. With four very important clues.

Across: “Early stage of life”

Across: “American actress Frances _”

Down: “Must be finished by”

Down: “Veteran’s Day month”

You smiled softly to yourself as you heard Spencer’s footsteps coming down the staircase. Padding over to the kitchen counter, you sat on one of the stools, a cup of tea in front of you.

Before he even looked at the newspaper, Spencer leaned over to kiss you good morning, “You look tired,” he whispered, hooking a finger under your chin as if he were investigating the dark circles underneath your eyes.

“Way to make a girl feel good about herself,” you teased lightly, even though you knew he was right. At least you felt tired.

He rolled his eyes, “You know that’s not what I meant.” Turning to grab his mug of coffee off of the counter, he observed you again, “Are you sure your doctor said nothing was wrong?”

Smiling, you gave him a brief nod. You had gone to see your doctor a few days ago for nausea and fatigue, and Spencer would’ve gone with you had he not been on the other side of the country on a case. “They’re running some tests, but they didn’t see anything blatantly wrong,” the doctor was running a few blood tests, checking your iron levels and HCG.

Using his free hand, Spencer reached over and moved a lock of hair out of your face, “They said your blood pressure was low?”

Low blood pressure, as it turned out, was a pregnancy symptom that was most common in the first trimester. “You’re freaking out over nothing, Spence,” you told him. Really, it was something. A rather large something – or small, depending on how you wanted to look at it. “Come on, it’s crossword time,” you told him, using the end of the pen to tap on the newspaper.

“I worry about you when I’m away. You do know that low blood pressure can cause syncope, right? Did they prescribe you anything for it?” He asked, ignoring your wishes to move on and do the crossword.

There was a small part of you that just wanted to tell him, but frankly, you had worked too hard on the crossword puzzle to give yourself away like that. You couldn’t tell him that they didn’t prescribe you anything because they didn’t know how far along you were. A larger part of you knew that if you just got him to work on the puzzle, he would have his answers in about seven minutes.

Then his phone rang, he pulled the device out of his pocket, and the Caller ID on the screen caused you to slump your shoulders forward. It was Garcia. “Hey Garcia,” he greeted on the phone, “at the tarmac?”

You set your head on the counter and sighed in defeat as Spencer hung up the phone.

“Are you alright?” He asked you softly, tenderly wrapping an arm around your torso.

Humming, you sat back up, ignoring the stars in your field of vision as you did so. “I’m fine, you should go,” you insisted.

Spencer shook his head, “No, you’re sick. I’ll call Garcia back and tell her I have to stay back.” Acting bewildered at the idea that he had been so remiss as to agree to do his job while you were unwell.

You reached out and set a hand on his, “It’s alright, love. I can take care of myself,” you reminded him. Besides the fact that you were wholly self-sufficient, the only reason why Spencer would be asked to meet the team at the tarmac was if they were headed toward a particularly gnarly case – they needed all hands on deck.

“Promise me you’ll check in? Call your mom if you need any help, please,” he requested, pleading eyes following you as you got up to hug him.

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around him, “You should take the crossword with you.” Pulling away, you haphazardly refolded the newspaper and handed it to him.

Furrowing his brow, Spencer inspected the paper that you had given him. “We always do the crossword together on Saturdays,” he found you incredibly helpful on the pop culture clues. “We could save this one and then have two for next week,” he offered.

God. No. Your eyes widened at the idea of having to keep your secret for another week, shaking your head, you shrugged, “No, you should take it. It’ll make me look forward to next week even more,” you insisted.

He folded, and with a sweet kiss to the forehead, he was off to go save lives, remaining entirely unaware of the one growing inside of you.

him

The judgmental Italian behind him was proving to be a distraction, “Did you find something?” Spencer asked, eyeing the evidence board with frustration. Something bugged him about the case, and he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

“Not right now, but it’s three in the morning,” Rossi said, joining Spencer by the evidence board. “Why don’t you give that big brain of yours a break?”

Shaking his head, Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I tried. I can’t stop thinking about the case.” Men were popping up dead in a small Missouri town at an alarming rate, and he felt so close to a breakthrough.

Dave nodded like he understood the feeling, that was probably why he had emerged from his hotel room so early, returning to the precinct before the sun peeked over the horizon. “What do you usually do to wind your brain down?”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer shrugged, “Crossword puzzles,” he admitted, any word puzzle would do the trick.

The chuckle from the older man next to him startled Spencer, “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” Rossi looked around the precinct, “I’m sure we can find one around here somewhere.”

“No,” Spencer said, “I have one in my bag, actually.” He refrained from including the detail that you had given him the crossword puzzle, or else he’d never hear the end of it.

Clapping him on the back, Rossi lifted his coffee cup, “Then I suggest you go take the thirty seconds to fill out that puzzle and then get some rest.”

Once he was back in his hotel room, he changed before pulling out the pile of papers that you had sent him off with. Sitting on top of the bed, he filled out the puzzle in approximately six minutes and forty-three seconds. Once the letters were filled in, he skimmed the puzzle – just to check it over.

The only one that might’ve given him trouble was about an American actress – usually he had you to help him with pop culture, but he recalled having the same last name as an actress in Days of Our Lives.

It was interesting that the words “Baby” and “Reid” were right next to each other.

Wait.

Quickly, he calculated the odds that the words “Baby” “Reid” “Due” and “November” were all in the puzzle and when the numbers were put together, they made your anniversary. Spencer just as quickly called you, listening to the phone ringing.

His heart was racing as he waited to see if you answered the phone. “Hey,” your groggy voice came through the receiver.

“Where did you get this crossword puzzle?” He asked you, flipping through the rest of the newspaper for the first time.

You hummed softly, “You’re doing it right now?”

Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he dropped his face into his hands. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t even think about the time,” it was just past four in the morning now, making it just past five in the morning in Virginia. “I just thought that…” his voice trailed off. What if it was just a coincidence?

There was silence on your end of the call, and he wondered if you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t been feeling well, and he’d woken you up with his phone call. “You thought what, Spence?”

The teasing lilt in your voice had given you away to him immediately. He knew. Every one of his suspicions were confirmed, “Y/N Reid,” he breathed.

“Spencer Reid,” you countered.

He took a deep breath, “Are you pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you answered simply, with about as much enthusiasm as he expected from you at five in the morning.

It all started to make sense to him. The low blood pressure, the drowsiness, and even the slight caginess when it came to him asking about your doctor’s visit. He swiped away a few stray tears, “I don’t know what to say.” It wasn’t a feeling he was overly used to.

You cleared your throat, “Are you happy?” Nerves clouded your voice, and he could hear you becoming more awake – more alert.

“I am,” he searched aimlessly. Elated. Thrilled. Ecstatic. “I’m so happy,” he told you, at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to say, I just… God, are you okay?” Dread washed over him, you were alone, sick, and pregnant at home and he was halfway across the country.

Sighing, he heard a ruffling on the other end of the call. “I’m great. I’m exhausted, I had no idea being pregnant was so tiring. I mean, I knew, but I didn’t know.” You sighed again, “I’m not making any sense.”

He laughed lightly at your rambling, “You’re making perfect sense. Chances are your energy will return during the second trimester.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.” You paused again for just a moment, “I’m sorry if I scared you. With the whole doctor’s appointment thing. They really are keeping an eye on my blood pressure and whole slew of other things, but they know the root cause.”

A giddy smile grew on his face, “It’s because you’re pregnant.”

A soft hum came through the phone, “It’s because I’m pregnant,” you concurred.

[lacymoonchild]

[halfwayhearted]

There Beneath — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which everyone but you forgot his 30th birthday.

Word Count: 875+

Disclaimer/s — Happy birthday to the nerd ever! ^_^ + sunshine!reader, fluff/comfort, and… yeah, beautiful!

A/N: Based off this request, ‘Hey pook! So spencer blurb or whatever and it’s based off the “you’re 29” “im 30” “we missed your birthday?” except reader didn’t. so back to his bday and maybe reader shows up at his apt with a thing of books she KNOWS he hasn’t read and tea and his favorite coffee and stuff. #fluff #ineedspencer #iloveu’! My layout messed up on the other one and I ended up deleting it! So.

Blank stare. “No way… we missed your birthday?”

All Spencer could do was stare right back and offer a small, awkward smile, averting his gaze. They had. They all had. Except for, well, you.

You’ve had his birthday marked on your calendar for months, and you’d be damned if you didn’t go all out for your best friend’s birthday. You spent half of September secretly and subtly finding out what Spencer Reid did throughout his… rare days at home. His answer every time was that he liked to read, play chess, go out for coffee, or watch his favorite show, ‘Doctor Who’. Okay! Okay, good.

So, with that being said, you did your utmost to grab all of the wrapped presents without fail. You did it, with a grunt and muttered curses, but you did it. Slamming your car door shut, you made your way up to his apartment. The familiar brown door coming into view made your heart quicken.

Stopping right in front of his place, you knocked with the front of your foot. You heard sounds of shuffling before his door swung open. Spencer’s expression shifting from confusion to surprise as he slowly said your name, his head tilting. “Hey… how are you? What are you doing here?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “It’s your birthday. Happy birthday!” A short pause. “Please grab your presents before they fall on the floor.”

With a small laugh, the brunette quickly moves to grab them. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as the weight is lifted. Stepping back, he sets them on his table, politely inviting you inside his house.

“So, am I the first one? Or did Penelope beat me to it. Actually, wait, don’t even answer that.”

Something you can’t quite identify crosses his features, and you instantly know you’ve said something wrong. That’s when it hits you, “No.”

Spencer immediately shrugs. “It’s fine! I’m not... hurt by it or anything. They’re just busy.”

You could’ve hugged him right then, but you refrain. Instead, you slip your hand into your tote bag and pull out a ‘Birthday Boy’ pin. His expression drops, making you laugh. “Come on!”

He remains silent, simply staring at you.

“I’ll wear the birthday hat if you wear the pin.”

His shoulders slump in defeat, and he nods, his eyes widening slightly when you instantly move toward him. Your bottom lip sinks between your teeth, clipping the pin onto his sweater, making sure not to poke him in the process. “There! How’s that? Did I poke you?”

Spencer shakes his head, too flushed to speak.

Without acknowledging it, you pull out the hat, carefully sliding it over your head. With a giddy glance up at him, you ask, “Do I look silly?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What!” You stammer, “I’m being serious! Do I?”

“You look beautiful. What’s in these?” Smooth.

“Your gifts—wait! Sit down first,” you insisted, watching how he does exactly that. You clasp your hands together in clear anticipation.

Spencer purses his lips, staring at the various wrapped boxes in front of him, unsure of which one to open first. It wasn’t that hard…

Just pick one.

Grabbing the one with light blue wrapping paper, he tenderly rips it open. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of different books—all first editions.

“How did you—” he trails off, “How?”

“How did I know? I remember you talking about it one day, so, I did some digging and I finally found them. Do you like them? Let me know.”

He traces a single finger down the spine, his smile broadening. “A lot. Thank you so much. Wow.”

Your smile grows even brighter at the sight of his widening. “Hugs afterward, keep opening!”

More of your gifts are unveiled; among them are two boxes of his favorite tea, his preferred coffee, and even a bag of sugar added in. Humorous.

This had truly made his entire day. Or, to be more precise, you had made his entire day.

Once everything was opened, he stands up and slides his hands over your waist, interlocking them behind your back while yours move to wrap loosely around his neck. “You liked everything?”

“I loved them, thank you. Really. Thank you.”

You hummed softly, “Happy birthday, Spencer.”

He says nothing but nestle his head deeper into the crook of your neck.

After a couple more minutes of comfortable silence, you quietly inquired, “Movie marathon?”

“Please. I’ll make tea, you can pick the movie.”

“It’s your birthday!” You frowned, pulling away.

“My birthday or not, you’re my guest. Choose.”

Your frown doesn’t even seem to linger at that, a smile threatening to break out on your face. You let out a huff and walk into his living room. With a glance back, you notice how much happier he seems compared to when you had first arrived.

You were certain that you’d do this for him every year. After picking the movie, he sat down beside you and set both your cups of tea on the table.

If he was being honest, he’d let you. And maybe one day, you wouldn’t just be his best friend. Not with your head resting on his shoulder, like this was just another casual evening spent together.

What’s the harm in making this, you, permanent?

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DT(s) — @planetpedri ! ౨ৎ