#yet he still gives her that little smile in the first gif. that almost imperceptible smile.

[stubblesandwich]

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (12/?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: A collection of letters Spencer and you share while you're gone - and then you're gone forever. At least, that what he thinks.

Warnings: some fluff, angst, angst, angst, smoking, slight ptsd, grief and loss

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I'm sososososo sorry. please don't hate me. I love you. gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

Dearest little bear,

two months have passed since you had to leave, and not a day goes by that I don't think of you and wish you were here with me.

We are trying to do everything in our power to be able to bring you back home. But unfortunately, it seems to be taking longer than I would like.

I was told you were working on it as well. You are strong and smart and even though you can't be with me, I'm sure we can do it together.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest Neruda,

I was very happy to receive your message. I always carry it with me, although I would rather be in your arms, but I can't.

I can't tell you where I am right now, but still I wish you were with me. It is warm and beautiful and I am sure you would like it here very much.

Except for these letters, I'm not allowed to talk to any of you, but I like talking to you best anyway. We've come this far. And we'll make it.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

-

Dearest little bear,

It's been four months and with each passing second it becomes more unbearable. But a light is appearing at the end of the dark tunnel. We think we know who she is.

It won't be long before we can see each other again. And I can't wait to be able to hug you again. To be able to touch you. Or kiss you.

Not much longer. And then nothing can separate us.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest Neruda,

It would have been too good to be with you again at last. But it still takes time.

I have found something that can help us, but for now, just know that I will do everything I can so that I can return home. Back to you. No matter what it costs.

Keep your eyes open. We're closer than you think.

I'm thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

-

Dearest little bear,

I was given time off to take a break. I was with my mother and she told me that a kind young lady had been here. She doesn't remember you, but she knows you are familiar and that she can trust you. As I do.

I am infinitely grateful. And I'm tired of waiting, but for you I do. For you, I do it all.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest Neruda,

I can no longer grasp a clear thought, because whenever I close my eyes I see everything I have done in review. I can hardly sleep and the nightmares plague me.

I just hope that everything will end soon. It has already been a year since we saw each other. I can't promise you anything, but I hope you know that everything I had to do was for you. For us.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

-

Dearest little bear,

it's been a few weeks since I've heard from you. I hope you are doing well.

We have found a trail that will take us further.And brings me a little closer to you. And that will bring you back home. I can't wait.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest little bear,

It's been two months since you wrote to me.

Get back to me as soon as you can.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest little bear,

Words cannot describe how much I miss you. Or how great the pain in my chest is.

I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can hardly breathe without you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest little bear,

they hung your picture today. In the portrait you are smiling, proud to finally be part of the team. I can't look at it.

I was sent home, but everything there reminds me of you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest little bear,

I keep your letters in a small box next to my bed. They are a part of you that I don't want to lose, even though I have already lost you. They are a part of you, just as you are a part of me.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest little bear,

I went to our bookstore and found a book of poems that you would like. I'll put it with your letters.

No book in the world could have prepared me for the grief I feel. The pain is too engaging for me to talk about it with anyone but you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dear little bear,

it's been almost two years since we last saw each other. I don't remember what you sound like, or what you smell like. Why can't I remember that? Is it wrong of me not to think it's bad? It takes away my pain a little.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dear little bear,

A lot has happened in the two years we've been apart. Too much to ever be able to write down all the things. I just want you to know that this time was not easy for me. Not for any of us.

I put your letters away safely because you will always be important to me. But I have to let you go. And with this, I release you.

I love you. Forever.

With love,

Neruda

-

You pinch your leg to wake up. Your neck is wet with cold sweat and you have to blink several times to realize that you are in a cab. You run your hand through your hair as the driver looks at you curiously through the rearview mirror. He says nothing, which is why you glance out the window.

The drive from the airport to Quantico only takes an hour, but you still take the opportunity to close your eyes for a moment and doze a little. You haven't had a decent night's sleep in ages, you don't even know what a healthy portion of sleep feels like anymore, because you haven't had that luxury in the last two years.

As the car comes to a stop in front of the FBI building, you pay the driver and get out with your small bag. The building seems much bigger than you remember. You used to spend every day here, it had once been your home. But now you're not even sure you have a home anymore.

You take a deep breath and enter through the large doors, but are directly approached by a security guard.

"Miss? Are you visiting?", he asks suspiciously, extending his arm to keep you at a distance - something that wouldn't do him much good if you were actually trying to get past him.He eyes you up and down, which you can't blame him for. In your ripped jeans, dirty sneakers, and loose sweater, you don't look like someone who belongs here. By now, you don't either.

You look at him. "I'm here to see Unit Chief Prentiss", you reply coolly. You know he's just doing his job, but you're too impatient to let all this wash over you. You know Emily is already in the office. You know her too well not to. Why doesn't he just go get her? You just want to see your friend.

"Chief Prentiss?" He raises an eyebrow. "And what is your request?"

Your gaze is rock hard and your tone cold as ice. "Tell her Y/N Y/L/N is here to see her."

You wait outside the building, letting the morning sun warm your skin and the cigarette burn between your fingers before you put it to your lips and take a drag. Afterwards, you stub it out on a trash can. As you exhale the last bit of smoke, you turn around. And there she is.

Emily is standing at the door, and when you see her, you drop your bag and wrap her in your arms so tightly that you can't breathe. You cling to her, afraid that maybe this whole thing isn't as real as it feels, but you imperceptibly pinch your arm. And she is still with you.

"I thought - they said", she stammers, and it's the first time in your friendship that she's speechless. You hug her even tighter.

"I know", you answer softly, blinking away the tears that have formed in your eyes. The moment is too beautiful to cry. As you break away from each other, Emily wipes her own tears from her cheeks, but some have already landed on her blouse. There are dark stains now.

"I don't even know what to say", she says, smiling at you as you enter the building together. The guard gives you a look, but doesn't ask any questions as you walk past him toward the elevator. Inside, she pushes a button that takes you to the BAU floor. "I can hardly believe you're really here."

Neither can you.

The office is completely silent because no one is here yet except for you. Although nothing has changed, everything has changed because you are now someone else. It's been a long time since you've been here. Two years, but everything in this room is all too familiar to you. The coffee machine, the law books, the files. It feels like you've never been away. It's déjà vu all over again.

While Emily gets you both coffee, you sit down at the round table and wait for her. Your friend sets the cups down on the table before sitting down next to you. She smiles faintly. "How are you?"

You pucker your mouth. How are you? You haven't been asked that question in ages, and to be honest, you don't know how to answer it either. How could you possibly be?

When you don't answer Emily, she phrases her question differently. "What are you feeling right now?"

Your lips become a thin line. "I don't know. It feels like all of this," you point to the room, "isn't a part of me anymore. Nothing has changed, but it still feels foreign."

Emily nods. "You've been through a lot, I guess." She takes a sip of her coffee. "You're right, Y/N. Nothing has really changed here. But you're a different one now, aren't you?"

You open your mouth to answer her, but you don't know what either. Part of you feels at home here, but a bigger part of you knows your place is somewhere else. You just don't know where exactly.

"Do you want to see the others?", Emily asks. "I'm asking you because it's been a long time since you've seen them. And they think you're...you know. Are you ready for that?"

Are you ready for that? You haven't seen either of them in a long time, and it would probably be better not to see them for now, but to let Emily sort it out first. But the team is your family - the closest thing you have to a family. And you've missed them all terribly.

You nod and take a sip of your coffee as JJ and Rossi enter the room. When they see you, they glance uncertainly at Emily, as if they're not sure if it's just imagination, but she nods at them. And that's when all the dams break for JJ.

She pulls you from your chair and hugs you like the salvation of the world depends on it, and David has to pry her cramped arms from you so he can put his around you as well. They affirm to you how much they missed you and ask how you are, wanting to know what happened, but Tara and Penelope join them and that's when it gets too loud for you.

Penelope cries with joy and Tara also can't believe that you are standing in front of her. They besiege you and ask you questions to which you have no answers, so you just smile weakly at them. They definitely don't mean any harm, after all, you've just risen from the dead for them, but you've spent the last while in silence and are no longer used to this volume. So you turn away from them. They look anxiously after you as you sort of flee from them. You hope that this will make the headache go away.

Without paying much attention to where you're going, you find yourself facing the wall where the pictures of the deceased agents hang. And yours is hanging there, too. You don't know how long you've been standing in front of it - minutes? hours? -until a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Y/N?"

You turn around and there stands Spencer. His hair is a little shorter and he looks like he's seen a ghost. Well, he sort of has.

You want to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, and never let him go. Seeing him knocks the air out of your lungs, which is why you can barely breathe. The two years without him had been hell on earth, but you got through them. For him.

For Spencer, who doesn't take his eyes off you as the blonde woman next to him, whose fingers are intertwined with his, looks at him and asks, "Honey, who's that?"

- tags -

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[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ OH, SHE ISN'T PLAYING ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY @ocetevasgirl: Hola preciosa! Can I request prompt 8 from the fluff list with Voight? Love you 💖

❚❙ PROMPTS: “You're jealous, aren't you?” “You're calling that jealousy? If she/he can still use her/his legs, I'm not being jealous”.

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

Since you saw this morning Olivia Benson walking downstairs accompanied by Voight, your good mood got burned into ashes just in a sight. He hadn't told you that she was going to come and, actually, he hadn't why to tell you. For him, it's only part of his job. But you know it's something else for her. You have seen her how she looks at your man. The unjustified and unnecessary touches on his back, on his arm. The stupid smiles she draws to him, that you would be delighted of erasing using your fist.

You have never, ever, been the kind of jealous girl. You trust your boyfriend blindly, but you don't trust her. You can't. You have tried it with all your efforts, but then you heard her laughing for no reason and Hank responding with a fleeting smile. You haven't talked him about how you feel, because the age gap between both makes you look stupid sometimes. Fortunately, you're professional enough to not let these things affect your job and your relationship. You have learnt how to hide your emotions, even if sometimes your friends suspect that something is going on by the tic that makes you blink your left eye unconsciously.

Aware that he must be there with his amazing friend, Kim places a hand on your shoulder trying to encourage you to cross the entrance and come into the Molly's. Licking your lips as you calm yourself a little, you nod pushing the door to be embraced by the warm atmosphere inside it, covering you from the cold breeze of Chicago. Letting your eyes travel around the place, you greet some of your friends waving a hand, before landing your gaze on your boyfriend. He turns at that exact moment, not even trying to contain a smile. You show him another back, but his disappears when he sees you passing him away straight to the Unit's table without greeting him. And Olivia notices it, but you don't care.

“What's up, trouble?” Jay pulls down your hair, earning a laugh from you.

“Platt said you crashed a patrol”. Wrinkling your nose in a funny gesture, after Adam's words, you take a seat next to him.

“These aren't the things you have to learn from us, you know it, right?” Antonio makes you all chuckle, calling to his sister raising a finger to ask for more beers.

“I caught the bad guy, didn't I?”

“Yeah, crashing a car”. Atwater raises his eyebrows, leaning over the table.

“But I caught the bad guy, that's my job not to take care of the cars. I'm not a mechanic…”

“BUT A COP!” You all say in unison, as always, like a famous quote.

As soon as the beers arrive, you make another toast for your car lost in action. And everything is fun until you feel a presence behind you and the silence gets installed around your table. Gulping and licking your bottom lip, as your friends drink from their bottles trying to pretend that you all weren't doing what you were doing, you turn around over your stool forcing a smile.

“Having fun, officer (Y/L/N)?” Platt's voice gives you the kind of shivers you can hide.

“No, no, n— I mean… yes”. The look on her face causes you to swallow again. “I me—mean, no?”

“It's a simple question. Yes or no”.

“Trudy, leave the kid alone”.

Saved by the bell. Your hero.

“Crash a car is part of our tradition, ain't it?” Hank tries to put some humor in the situation, traveling his eyes from her to you.

“Hm”. The woman just replies, before walking away.

You don't know about what kind of tradition he is talking of, but at least he has saved your ass. Again. Not being able to look at him, you sip from your beer trembling yet. Probably, tomorrow Crowley will ask for a convincing explanation. I caught the bad guy will not work with her, that's for sure. Feeling a soft touch in your lower back, you raise your orbs from the bottle to your boss, who makes a brief move with his chin to point at the back door at the end of the bar. You don't want to go, you know exactly what it's going to happen and you just want to forget the intense day you have had. But he raises his eyebrows with that cockiness usual on him, about to drag you if you don't put down from your stool.

With an imperceptible sight, you end up obeying in silence under the attentive eyes of your friends. Hank walks behind you with both hands in the pocket of his jeans, as you wear your jacket to zip it above your chest. The fresh air hits your face once you reach the Molly's back alley, resting your back against the wall with your face bowed to your military black boots. Placing himself in front of you, he studies thoroughly your gesture, your lips pressed and the lack of eye contact.

“What's the matter?”

Shaking your head slightly, you cross one leg behind the other, putting your hands on your lower back.

“You're jealous, aren't you?”

Letting go an exaggerated chuckle, you roll your eyes before gluing them on him. “You're calling that jealousy? If she can still use her legs, I'm not being jealous”.

“It ain't a good moment to be sarcastic, sweetheart”.

“I'm not. She is just a colleague, right?”

Hank nods in silence tilting his head closer and you're sure he can hear your heart speeding up under your skin. He always does that, putting you nervous only to prove the power he has on you, on your body, on your senses. And you hate him. You hate how proud he feels because of it. The grin on his face causes a chill down your spine, standing up from the wall to pretend that he is wrong, that he doesn't control your reactions.

“Hm… Good to know you're conscious of her position. She's gonna stay in my house tonight. We didn't plan to need more than one day and she doesn't have a place”.

For a moment, the image of you punching his face runs your mind, keeping your hands inside the pockets of your jacket to close them in two fist until you feel your nails hurting your palms. There are a lot of replies to his words stuck in your throat, but if it's a proof of trust, you would fail miserably. This is a clash of titans and you're not going to let him win.

“That's fine”. You respond squinting at him, taking a step ahead almost facing Hank. “Anything else?”

“No”.

“Okay”.

With a feigned smile, you turn to the left to leave the alley and come back to your private party, which means to get drunk until Burgess and Hailey have to carry you home.

“What an interesting night is gonna be”. Hank whispers seeing you grabbing the doorknob, teasing you as only he knows how to do.

Kissing your lips as your steps stop dead, you turn your head about to lose your calm.

“If I see her putting a hand on your leg again, I'm gonna break every single fucking bone of her body”.

You couldn't help it. He knows exactly which words he has to use to push you to the edge. The worst part is the fun he usually has doing it. Walking towards you moving his head as if he was nodding, Hank caresses his bottom lip with a forefinger looking thoughtful.

“I didn't think of you as someone violent”.

“Fucking watch me, Voight”.

“Hm…”

Containing a laugh, he opens the door for you, pointing at the inside with a hand. Clearly challenging you. But before you can pass him away, the sergeant grabs your forearm to push you back and lean his lips over your ear.

“She booked the hotel yesterday”. His raspy voice touring your head makes you feel your cheeks burning in shame.

He has won already and you know it. Wanting to leave him again, he pulls you back again hearing the heavy snort escaping your mouth.

“She knows who you are. Told her this morning”.

Did really he? Arching up one of your eyebrows, you can't help but turn your face slightly at him. Your parted lips reveal the surprise and the confusion. Why can she know it, but not your friends? Just because she doesn't work in Chicago? It isn't fair. At least, under your opinion. It's not like you're going to act like Voight's girlfriend and take the advantage of what it means. But it allows you to smile at him when you cross your eyes in the hallways, it allows you to don't have to hide if you want to have lunch together, it allows you to not have to drive two different cars and leave his house before him to work. Small simple things that for you means a lot.

“Cut off the show, boss. Everybody is looking at us”.

It isn't the first time that Hank can't avoid touching you somehow in public, finding the stupidest excuse just to feel you. And he really enjoys putting you nervous, watching the way you lick your lips and bite the bottom one, feel the way your body gets tense when he lays his hands on you, the short frights he gives you coming behind you and whispering ‘officer (Y/L/N)’ in your ear.

Actually, there's no reason why you decided to hide your relationship. You haven't even talked about it. You haven't thought if it's because of the age gap, because of his past, because he is your boss (...). You haven't given it any importance, till you met Olivia Benson a couple months ago. That kind of sergeant who comes from New York and thinks that she runs the Chicago police department. Hank hasn't told you how they met, imagining they did when he was working on the Gang Unit.

“Admit your jealousy”. Tilting his head enough to look into your eyes, the challenging grimace comes back to his face.

Knowing that he's not going to stop, you simply nod. “It isn't fair that other women can… touch you, and I have to wait more than twelve hours just… simply to smile at you without looking suspicious”.

Hank can hear to perfection the hopelessness in your voice, feeling your fingers loosening his grip around your other forearm. It's not a question of possessiveness, but of insecurity; and he's discovering it now, thinking about since when you feel like that.

“Do you wan'me to take you home?”

You shake your head, now with guilt running under your skin because you know it has ruined his night.

“I'm okay, boss. Gonna have some fun with my friends after a long day”.

“Will you have some fun with your boss after that? End the night in my house playing pool, drinking whisky? I will let you win”.

You can't help but show him a fleeting smile, almost curving your lips. That's a yes for him and Hank feels satisfied. Holding your right hand on his, your boyfriend brings it to his mouth placing a tender kiss on the back of it, before letting you go.

Hailey and Burgess are squinting at you, knowing that their suspicions weren't wrong at all. Not saying a word and pretending normality, you sit back on your stool to have a sip from your beer. You're literally sweating right now, and it isn't because of the jacket you are wearing but because of the petty smiles appearing on the other cops.

“You know that we work in Intelligence, right, little trouble?” Antonio is the first one talking jokingly.

“Yeah, and we don't need to be detectives to know what's going on”. Hailey hums resting his arms over the table.

“How is Voight in private? I've always had curiosity. He takes off the stick of his ass when he comes home, or…?”

“Halstead, I can hear you”.

“Yeah, that was the intention, Sarge”. He replies, lifting up his beer in a silent toast.

Turning at Hank just for a second, you can't help but shrug with your eyebrows briefly frowned in a funny grimace that makes him giggle. It was inevitable, since they have seen the way and how close he has talked to you. But now, the pressure within your chest is dropping down, feeling better.

[writingwithacupoftea]

Comfort Blanket

Summary: It is up to Tommy and Y/N Shelby to keep the family together after their Mother’s death. They discover along the way that sometimes a comfort blanket is an object and other times it’s a feeling...

Word Count: 1891

Prompt: “There’s no place for us to sleep at night.” (part of @smallheathgangsters​ 1k followers party 💜)

A/N: This ended up being way more festive than I anticipated but, hey ho, it’s less than 3 month til Christmas now! I’ve also definitely taken some liberties with the whole pre-series story and ages and stuff but oh well. I’ve wanted to write a piece based on the blanket in this gif for a while now, so this prompt just worked perfectly for it! 

Congratulations again, Leah, on the 1k milestone - it’s so well deserved, and here's to 1k more 🥳 I hope you and everyone else enjoys my little contribution to the celebration ❤️

(gif by @nofckingfighting​)

The Shelby clan had never known darker times than the months following their mother's death.

Their father was more absent than ever before. Arthur Shelby Junior was still hopelessly trailing around after him. John had fled to Martha's house, seeking comfort in her arms. Ada was distraught, and everyone had given up trying to guess what her next move would be, for entering her teenage years had made her even more unpredictable than ever anyway. Between looking after Finn and working as much as her brother would allow, Polly was permanently exhausted.

Tommy felt like he was drowning alongside his mother, burdened with the responsibility of trying to look after his family as best he could whilst grieving.

That left Y/N. Born just a year after Tommy, she was the one he turned to when he needed a break. Whether it was to cry and mourn the loss of his beloved mother, or taking charge when all Tommy wanted to do was sleep after a long day's work, Y/N was always there. She picked up the pieces for all of her siblings, and was the oil that kept the cogs of the machine turning.

One night, Tommy and Y/N found themselves alone in the parlour, relishing in the moments of quiet that had fallen after the rest of the family had gone to bed. It was at these times that the pair confided in each other, whether it was their own news or that of their siblings.

Tonight, so far, they had sat in silence. But Y/N knew that Tommy would tell her something soon, and also knew that Tommy would be able to sense that she had something to tell him. It was all a matter of who would speak first.

"I don't know what to do, Y/N/N." Tommy had taken the leap this time.

"Don't know what to do about what?" Her brother's confession had surprised Y/N: Tommy always had a plan for everything.

"I'm doing everything I can to provide for us all and it's still not enough, even though I've taken every fucking job I can find. The lock on the door is still broken from when Dad came home drunk the other night, and the window next to Finn's nursery hasn't been mended yet from when John accidentally smashed it with his ball. Polly's had to take all of the spare blankets for him so that he doesn't get sick. We can't afford to buy any more. There's no place for us to sleep at night. Not somewhere that's safe and warm, anyway."

Y/N sighed. "First of all, Tom, and this is important, so you'd better fucking pay attention to me." Y/N was pleased to see that he let out a slight laugh at that. "You're doing an amazing job at all of this. We're all so grateful for everything you're doing, even if I'm the only one that will actually say it out loud. We couldn't ask any more of you, Tommy.

"Secondly, I may be able to help you – now, don't get mad!" Y/N added this last part hurriedly, having seen Tommy's eyebrows quickly shoot up. Taking a deep breath, Y/N broke the news. "Harry has given me a job...as a barmaid in the Garrison."

"What?!" Tommy jumped out of his seat, looking down at Y/N in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? If you think I'm going to let you work there with all those drunk idiots every night, then you'd better think again."

"If you think you can tell me what I can and can't do, then you'd fucking better think again, Thomas," Y/N retorted, as her brother began to pace up and down the room. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm an adult now and can make my own decisions. Anyway, I've worked everything out and I have a plan to put to you."

Tommy sat down again, not taking his eyes off his younger sister.  

"You're working yourself into the ground, Tommy, and quite frankly we can't afford for you to be ill, so you need to get some more rest." The man in question opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off immediately by Y/N. "I want you to give up a couple of your jobs – some of them only pay a pittance, whilst my wage alone would cover that and a little more. I want you to put more time and energy into building up our Dad's business. I've got this feeling that it could become so much more, and you're the one that will make it happen, Tommy, I just know it!"

The second eldest Shelby brother sighed, his head falling heavily into his hands. He had to admit, Y/N's plan sounded incredibly tempting. But still, doubts invaded his thoughts, namely his concerns over his sister working in the Garrison of all places and the question of what if it all failed? What if they ended up in a worse position than they were in now?  

With two words from Y/N, however, he was convinced: "Trust me."

"Fine. We'll give it a go on one condition – if any of those fuckers at the pub ever, and I mean ever, give you any bother whatsoever, you tell me straight away. Alright?"

Y/N smiled softly at her brother, pleased with the outcome of their conversation. "Alright," she whispered in agreement, reaching over to grab his hand.

"Thank you, Y/N." Tommy's voice broke through the silence, his sincerity as clear as day.

"We're going to be alright, Tom. One day, we won't have to worry about everyone being safe and warm in their beds. It might take some time, but we'll get there eventually."

Tommy nodded, almost imperceptibly, before slowly getting up to make his way to his own bed, only stopping to place a gentle kiss to his sister's forehead.

All they could do now was pray that Y/N would be right once again.

***

About a year later, their prayers were beginning to be answered.

Business at the betting shop was flourishing, and the Shelby's were gaining more respect by the day. It was all illegal, of course, but all that mattered to Tommy and Y/N was that enough money was rolling in to look after the family.

As Christmas drew nearer, their house was beginning to feel more like a home again for the first time since their mother passed. Fires roared in the hearth at night, they had finally been able to make the repairs that the house so desperately needed, and the family seemed to be happy.  

The future looked brighter for the Shelby clan, and it was a sight that Y/N was overjoyed to have before her. Her plan had worked, the dark circles beneath Tommy's eyes were melting away and her Christmas present for him was finally ready.

Despite Tommy's arguments that she didn't need to stay on at the Garrison anymore, Y/N had decided to keep her job there. Surprisingly, she'd discovered that she was rather good at bar work and had been immensely satisfied when her brothers had entered the pub on one of their 'check-ups' on her to witness her chucking a couple of drunks out onto the street by the scruffs of their neck. Y/N liked earning her own money, rather than relying on Tommy, and it meant that no questions were asked about how she was spending it.

Most of her wages had gone towards Tommy's present, and Y/N could only hope that he liked it. The closer and closer that it got to the big day, the more Y/N began to doubt it. But she'd put too much work into it to turn back now.

She had decided against leaving it under the tree, not wanting anyone to be ridiculed for it, and instead kept it a secret in her room. So, on the night of the 25th, Y/N padded down the stairs to meet Tommy alone in the parlour.

"I thought you'd be in bed by now." Tommy was smiling up at her from his seat on the sofa.

"You know I'm always too excited at Christmas to get much sleep." Her brother rolled his eyes fondly at Y/N's reminder. "Anyway, I have one more present to give out."

Tommy's brows furrowed in confusion. "But we all opened your presents earlier, Y/N/N?"

"Yes, yes, I know – you don't need to make this any more embarrassing for me than it already is!."

The man in question chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

Y/N sat down next to her brother, and handed him the carefully wrapped package. "Happy Christmas, Tommy," she said, gently. As he began to open it, Y/N's nervous rambling automatically began. "Now, if you don't like it, just tell me. I won't be offended! I can find something else to do with it. It's not really your colours, now I think about it, and - "

"Y/N do you want me to open this or not?" Tommy snapped, but his eyes were full of fondness for his younger sister.

"Yes," Y/N replied, meekly.

Tommy pulled away the last of the wrapping to find a thick patchwork blanket, which was clearly handmade. Speechless at the thought and care put into the gift, he asked the only question that was running through his head:  "Why?"

"I wanted to give you something special to say thank you for everything you've done for us since Mum died. Also, I'm not stupid, you know." At Tommy's confused expression, Y/N elaborated. "Nearly every morning before we got the house fixed up, I used to wake up with double the amount of blankets on top of me compared to how many I went to bed with. Your blankets, Tommy, when we barely had enough to share between us all in the first place. So I wanted to make you one myself that is yours and yours alone.

"You said to me once that we had nowhere to sleep at night that was safe and warm, but you created that place for us, for me. I know we've got plenty of blankets in the house now, but I just wanted to try and give you that same feeling of comfort that you gave to me." She stopped talking at that, suddenly aware of how long she had been going on for.

Tommy held the warm fabric in his hands, his thumb tracing the messy stitching which held each patch together, trying to blink away the tears glazing his eyes. "I love it, sweetheart. Thank you."

A relieved smile lit Y/N's face, but it was quickly replaced by a loud yawn. She gently rested her head on Tommy's shoulder as she curled her legs up on the sofa, and he wrapped his arm around her.

"Happy Christmas, Tom," Y/N mumbled sleepily.

"Happy Christmas, Y/N/N," Tommy replied with a smile.

Moments later, Y/N's breathing had evened out and she had fallen into a deep slumber. Tommy's eyes flitted between her sleeping form and the beautiful blanket on his knee.

Maybe he could share his blanket with his sister just one more time...

[ajokeformur-ray]

Gentle, untamed beasts rest in the palms of your hands // Lilith x Others

Summary: Vile, repulsive things are spoken about you and you hear these haunting words through paper thin walls. They hit you where it hurts and there is little which can be done to settle the sickly swooping in your stomach. But your men are there and they love you more than any of them can say. It's a good thing that they are men of action, then.

A/N: l wrote this for @jokersspookyhyena because you are... deserving of so much more and I wish that I could give you those things. You’re such a beauty in every way and you make me believe in the goodness of humans. I love you so much, doll. More than you know. 💜💚 I worked super hard on this so I hope that you love it; you’ll see why I’m so nervous to post this!!!! 💙 The GIFs I used are all reactions to the message you sent me today about what happened! Enjoy, darling. 

Word count: 2, 078.

(No preview above the cut because it’s a surprise!!!!✨✨✨✨)

(Don’t you dare tell me off! 🥺😭You deserve all of this and more! I couldn’t decide who to include or who to write for so I just... wrote them all! It was so fun to doooooo ~ ! 💖)

A crow cawed overhead.

Its signature raspy call broke your attention away from the dark storm clouds which loomed overhead as once again did pathetic fallacy play a major part in your day. The beating of large black wings sounded through the open window, large droplets of water started to decorate the inner windowsill, so hard was it raining, and the crow you knew and loved so well tilted its head at you. It was a question and you knew that as the crow took in your tear stained cheeks and your red, sore eyes, that Eric was seeing this same thing.

He was close by. He would be here soon.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to see him. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see anybody. Not like this, anyway. Every nasty word that you had overheard earlier today was still reverberating inside your head, the syllables had hours since stained your mind black, sticky tendrils clinging to your conscience and poisoning your rationality. You had been spoken of so horrifically this day, by people you barely knew, but their insignificance to you had done little to remove the harsh sting of their bitterly cruel and unfair, unjustified comments. No matter what your loves said to you each and every day, it very rarely took little more than a single comment to send you into a downward spiral.

Logic had long since flown, as did the crow now that Eric’s message had reached you:

Soon.

Stood were you in Hannibal’s vast kitchen, your back to the door. You felt vulnerable, your body wide open to attack. Anyone could walk through the door to the kitchen and you could be dying, dead, bleeding out on the floor before you knew it, but at the same time you knew that you were completely safe. No one would harm you here, in Hannibal’s home. Not now and not ever. Anyone who walked through the kitchen door would be someone you knew, someone you loved and trusted, someone you needed with every fibre of your tried and tired being.

Steel toe capped boots echoed on the linoleum floor and you stilled, listening. Waiting. You kept your eyes on the rain, your chocolate gaze following two drops on the window pane as you wondered which one would reach the window sill first. You never found out who won the race constructed by your own mind, carefully lulled out of your reverie were you by a soft voice which was soaked in care and in love for you.

“It can’t rain all the time, you know.”

You turned around just in time to see the sweetness of Eric’s face, the black lines which ran vertically down each eye faded away. Just like J did he not bother with the upkeep of his makeup, though unlike J did he wash off his face fully before he reapplied anything. Usually did he do this by tipping his face up towards the rain with a serene yet oddly melancholic smile on his thin, beautifully sinful lips.

“I don’t care if it does,” You shrugged and turned back to the window. You heard not Eric move but you felt him beside you in the next instant as a careful finger reached out and brushed a dark lock away from your face.

“I care.” Eric’s voice was sweeter than heaven and the look in his dark eyes was hotter than hell as that finger tipped your chin up so that you could look at him and all the pain in the world was in your eyes. He frowned and leaned in, his lips gently touching yours. Eric kissed you with such reverence, like it was the first and last time all at once, and you chased his lips with yours even before he had pulled away from you.

“Leave some for me, would ya’?”

The deep timbre of Pat’s voice, so heavily tinted in that Australian accent you knew and loved so well, combined with the feeling of Eric’s sinful lips against yours, made you gasp and Eric’s arm tightened around your waist as he pulled you into his lithe form. Pat’s voice was teasing, though his words were harsh, and though neither he nor Eric knew not what had happened this day, none of them did, he knew that you were in severe distress and that was one thing that he couldn’t allow. 

Your loves would make the sun shine for you if it was the last thing they did.

“A-ta-ta, Minty. Kid’s goin’ through a lot. Let ‘im have her for a bit. They don’t get much time together unless it’s Dev-il’s Night.” J was right; it was rapidly approaching that blessed time of year and the veil between this world and the next was thinning out. As August melted into September and bled into October was it easier for Eric to come across to be with you, though of course was he strongest with you on October Thirtieth every year! You wrenched your lips away from Eric’s at the sound of J’s voice. Eric looked dazed from your passionate, though chaste, kiss and his arm stayed around your waist even as you turned to look at your chaotic clown. Greasepaint was dripping down J’s gorgeous face and pooling in the collar of his deep purple trench coat, whereas Eric’s painted visage was untouched by the rain; a part of him was it.

“J ~ !” Your greeting rang out in a sing song manner and you saw the almost imperceptible upwards tilt of J’s ravaged lips in response; he loved the way you loved him and the way that you responded so enthusiastically and genuinely to his appearance, something which made most people fearful for their lives even if no intent was meant.

“Babydoll.”

Your stomach dropped. J only used that name in situations which called for comfort. He knew that you weren’t okay and that something had happened today. Even without specifics, this meant that Eric knew.... which meant that Pat knew and therefore...

Two sets of footsteps in polished shoes approached the now almost crowded kitchen and they came closer and closer... 

Hannibal was the first to appear in the grand doorway and you felt your heart seize in your chest. Oh, how you loved him. Will wasn’t far behind, for long ago had he and Hannibal begun to blur, and indeed sometimes did even you struggle to tell which of the men was speaking. Different were their voices but similar were their words and the intonations; Will was a complete empath and he could almost mimic someone exactly, and Hannibal was his own dominating personality.

"Dearest - “ Hannibal’s deep and intense eyes, his gaze reminiscent to that of a shark, struck you to your very core and you moved away from Eric, though the man kept his strong and firm grip around your waist. You could move if you wanted to, but he still wanted for you to know that you were safe with him. He cared and never would he lie about that sentiment. “What is bothering you? You must tell us. We can help you, but only if you allow us.”

This felt almost like an intervention, and perhaps it was, but in the presence of your men and in the presence of their undying and unconditional love for you and under the scrutiny of Will and Hannibal’s impenetrable gazes, Eric’s tenderness, J’s careful analysis and the way that he stalked across the room to get to you easily, taking up your other side so that you were deliciously sandwiched between he and Eric, and the way that Pat was frowning and looking between everyone’s faces like it was a tennis match as he desperately tried to work out what was happening... you snapped.

Words poured out like the rain outside was now coming from within you. and you told the too still, too quiet room everything. Every word which had been cruelly said, every rude comment, every taunt and every whisper, every thought in your mind... at some point, Eric began to stroke his fingers along your forehead, his cleanly kept nails lightly grazing across your skin like he could heal you from the outside in, so tender was he with you, and your words were almost lost under the loud growl which ripped from J’s throat. He was quietened by Hannibal’s warning look, and Will was leaning against the kitchen island next to Pat. The younger man had his arms crossed and Will was mimicking Pat’s body language; all in the room were trying to soothe you without speaking as tears poured down your cheeks and you found your words coming out faster and faster, your breath stuttering, your thoughts and stomach whirling as did your mentality affect your physicality -

“Oh, my love,” Eric sighed and he drew you into his embrace, his lips at your temple. J assumed rank, protecting your back the way that you preferred to sleep at night, and silence fell. Only deep, angered breathing filled the room as each man fought for composure. You were more important than anything and anyone else right now but oh, how they all longed to deliver justice.

J had nuzzled his face into the nape of your neck when you hadn’t even finished speaking and now did he pepper kisses along the exposed skin there, trying to soothe you was he. Pat approached you next and he did his best to wrap his arms around J and Eric, so that you were sandwiched gently between the three of them. They had always and would always keep you safe, sane and honest.

“Those words aren’t true, babydoll. Daddy knows ya’. He knows who you are. Yy’re beautiful. Strong. Such a brave Hyena for me, hm? Ya’ain’t any of those things.” J’s soft, low voice soothed away your demon’s whispers, so loud was his love for you, and you allowed yourself to bask in the individual scents of the men who were your home.

“Stay here. The dogs are in the living room. Fire’s on. Keep her safe - Hannibal and I have something to, uh - “

“There is no time to delay. We must strike while the wounds are fresh and the knife is hot. Come along, Will.”

Like a dog called to heel did Will follow Hannibal out of the room, their footsteps receding quickly before the front door opened and closed. The thought made J laugh, though he was smart enough to not voice it, and instead did he stay there with you, to keep you safe. Taken were you to the living room where seven dogs waited, curled up all together by the roaring fire which you hadn’t realised had been lit some time ago by the very same man who owned this house, and you wondered how short a time it had been since Hannibal had allowed Will to bring his dogs into Hannibal’s grand home. You suspected that Hannibal hadn’t been given much of a choice, though true was it that the dogs soothed you and it was likely for that reason that Hannibal had allowed this occurrence. All of your loves would do anything for you, no matter what it took. 

It was here, with J pressed securely to your back, his body so tightly against yours that not even a single sheet of paper could have gotten between your bodies, with Pat pressed to your front, his body curved around yours and an arm slung over you so that he could hold J’s hand, and Eric sat with your head in his lap, that the four of you found rest, and where you realised that you were, quite simply, one of the finest humans ever to exist. How could you not be, with a heart so big and so full of love that you had an entire pack of humans and animals alike to get you through the day and make everything okay?

The battered hearts of gentle, untamed beasts rested in the palms of your hands and even as you cradled them so tenderly to your chest were your own teeth bared. They had taught you well and every day, even without trying, did you make your loves proud.

A crow cawed overhead, rain lashed against the window, fire crackled merrily in its place, and a quiet sense of peace overcame you. You were...

Home.

[mayquita]

You’re My Best Friend (1/4)

I know, I know, I'm the worst. I should be working on one of my multiple wips, but instead, I have not only decided to write this story but I've turned it into a new wip. This was meant to be a little story, written as a birthday gif for my best virtual friend, Sara, but as usual, I got carried away and the small one-shot has become a multichapter.

Maybe I should wait to post the full story, but I think @saraswans deserves more for her birthday than a simple imageset, so here's at least the first part. (Still, this comes ten days late) As good news, the second part is almost finished, I will post it at the end of the week. The bad news, I don't know when I will be able to finish the rest, but I will try to make it as soon as possible.

(This is unbeta'd, so I apologize in advance for the many mistakes and nonsense)

Summary:  Emma shares her passion for Queen with her best friend Killian, with her son and with the rest of her friends. What will happen when Henry encourages them to participate in a Queen karaoke party? Will Emma (or Killian) finally dare to express her (or his) hidden feelings through the lyrics of a song?

Rating: T — Words count: ~1500 — A03 — Ffnet

Special Queen Karaoke party at The Rabbit Hole.

Don't miss it!

"We have to go, mom!" Henry almost shouted, bouncing excitedly in his seat, while holding the flyer with one hand and putting it right in front of Emma's eyes.

Emma and her son were in Granny's sharing their traditional Sunday brunch with the rest of their friends. Henry had not only gotten flyers for her, but he also was handing out one for each of them, while hastily commenting on ‘ how cool it would be to get on stage and pretend to be Freddie Mercury for once.’

She wasn't surprised that her friends welcomed the news of the event with enthusiasm while humming in approval. In fact, if there was something that her group of friends had in common, it was their passion for Queen, a passion that her twelve-year-old son had also acquired and that had even increased after watching Bohemian Rhapsody, the movie, a few months ago. Since then, Queen's songs played at all hours both in her apartment and in her car.

Emma had even come to almost lose interest sometimes. After hearing the same songs over and over again, it was as if, somehow, Queen's magic had begun to fade, becoming a repetitive background sound. That weird feeling hardly lasted, though. It could always be worse. Henry could be a reggaeton fan or whatever the latest style of music was, Emma reminded herself, wrinkling her nose in disgust and turning up the player's volume even more, letting the lyrics of Don't Stop Me Know drag any vestige of another kind of ‘music.’

"Henry's right, I don't even remember the last time we went out together at night. It will be fun." Of course, Mary Margaret would agree with the plan, both her words and the wide smile that appeared on her face making it evident.

"And my dear granny can babysit Leo and Roland." Ruby added pointing to the smaller children. Leo, David and Mary Margaret's son, was one of the reasons why they had reduced their nights out. The adorable baby was barely eight months old and kept his parents busy and exhausted all the time.

Roland, on the other hand, was Robin's five-year-old son, David's best friend. Robin's wife, Regina, had adopted him shortly after their marriage — his first wife had passed away when Roland was just a baby — and now the three of them formed a cute little family.

Ruby, Emma herself, and her best friend Killian —who wasn't there yet, by the way— remained the only singles in the group. Although all of them had known each other for many years, the new additions made it increasingly difficult for them to relive their wild nights from the past, having to settle for Sunday brunch instead. But at least they managed to meet once a week, without exception. That was something Emma valued more than anything, after so many years living alone, with no one to care about her, or no one to take care of. Until Henry arrived, that's it.

For that reason, the idea of spending a night with friends, without responsibilities while enjoying their favorite music was too tempting to turn it down. The possibility of seeing Killian take the improvised stage to perform some of her favorite songs, even if it was a karaoke version, was a bonus that she could not ignore.

Only when her son started talking again, trying to choose the most appropriate song for each of them, Emma realized that she might not be able to witness the event. She shook away the incipient sense of disappointment with a subtle movement of her head, deciding to act instead as the responsible mother she was (or that she should be at least)

"Sorry, kid, but I'm afraid we're not going to make it."

Henry's head snapped around looking for her, the confusion marked on his face. "We? How's that?"

"You're twelve buddy, which means you're not allowed to be in a bar at night, and since your potential babysitters will be all there, I'm afraid we're going to have to reject the proposal."

A flash of disappointment crossed his face, his brow furrowed while he hurried to whine, "But mom, it's a Queen tribute karaoke! We have to go! We need to go!" His lips drew a dramatic pout as he put his hands together as a sign of prayer. Emma should have imagined that Henry wasn't going to give up so easily. She was about to reply when Ruby got ahead of her.

"I'm sure Granny won't mind watching him, even he can help her with the little ones." She offered while she ruffled Henry's hair in an affectionate gesture.

Before answering, Emma saw out of the corner of her eye how her son pulled out his phone and started typing. A few seconds later, a wide grin blossomed on his face. "Problem solved. Avery has offered to have a sleepover in his house, so mom, don't worry, I may not go, but you're going."

"Where are we going?" Her heart skipped a beat when she heard Killian's voice. Her face turned automatically in the direction of the sound to find her best friend had just arrived. Although his lips drew a soft smile the moment their gazes met, the dark circles under his eyes and some deep lines of expression indicated the tiredness accumulated after having to get up early on Sunday.

She also didn't overlook his deliberate use of the ‘we ’, as if they were part of the same pack. Well, to be honest, where was the lie? Except for sleeping —even they had slept together on some occasions. Just sleep — and working, they did almost everything together. That's what best friends were for, to share the good and not so good moments, right?

He approached their booth, dropping into the seat next to her and letting out a heavy breath.

"You're late. Tough session, I suppose?" Robin asked.

"It has been a bloody nightmare." Killian ignored the disapproving glances that both Regina and Mary Margaret directed at him and continued talking after a short pause. "Anyone remind me why I teach sailing to preteens." Realizing his mistake, Killian addressed Henry immediately. "Don't take it personally, lad, you're much smarter and well educated than all those spoiled brats."

"Teaching sailing is your passion." David reminded him.

"And in your own words, young people assimilate information much better because they have fewer concerns in their minds." Emma quoted. It was true, Killian's passion for the sea and sailing was well known to all of them, as well as his extraordinary patience when he tried to pass on his knowledge to little children.

Most of the young students adored him — and also many of their mothers and some fathers, by the way. — Emma had witnessed several displays of affection and admiration from them. But she better than anyone else knew that sometimes children could be exasperating.

"Okay, okay, I get it." He sighed as leaned even more against the back of the seat. "It's easy to forget it sometimes, especially when two of those little scoundrels decide to get into a fight for any nonsense." Killian dragged a hand down his face and rubbed at the scruff on his jaw as if he wanted to erase the vestiges of the previous altercation. "Anyway, now that the nightmare has finally ended, I prefer to occupy my mind with something more agreeable. So where are we going?"

Henry handed him one of the flyers as he explained. "It's in two weeks from now, and we've all agreed to go."

His face lit up as his eyes fell on the flyer, though he quickly schooled his features, directing a glance at Henry through his narrowed eyes."We?" His gaze drifted for a second to Emma as he arched an eyebrow subtly. She replied with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. One more sign of their unwavering friendship was the ability to understand each other without the need to talk, she thought as a warm sensation spread through her body. "I'm afraid you won't be able to join us this time, my boy."

"Oh, come on, Killian! It's a karaoke party! With Queen songs!"

He was persistent, she would give him that. But he was also behaving in a somewhat manipulative way, trying with Killian since he knew in advance that he had a soft spot for her son. "Nice try, buddy, but don't forget that you already have plans with Avery."

"Fine," He huffed, raising his arms and then dropping them in an over-dramatic gesture. "But since I'm not going to go, at least I'll need graphic proofs of what will happen."

That she could guarantee. She would be in charge of taking pictures and videos, since she wouldn't sing. It didn't matter that Queen was her favorite band, that she would be surrounded by friends or that it would be nothing more than karaoke. No way was she going to get on top of an improvised stage to perform. That wasn't happening.

//

The Henry of this story is a little inspired by my own son, who is also twelve years old and a little obsessed with Queen (just like his mother...)

A tiny teaser from the next chapter: "It's a shame, because there's a song that suits you perfectly."

Thanks for reading :)