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reiding-writing · 3 months

Note

hiii, i hope you're well! i saw that you are taking requests for spencer and i really like your angst fics so i was wondering if you could write one with unrequited love?

preferably bau!reader who has feelings for him but he doesn't and she watches him get with someone else and everybody knows how she feels about him but he is oblivious, ending is up to you but i love me a sad ending heheh 😸

transgression [ s.r ]

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. He’s in love with somebody else.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE MAEVE ARC, LOTS of misunderstanding, Spencer is kind of a bad friend, lots of arguing, major character death

spencer reid x gn!reader || ANGST || 8.2k || masterlist!!

a/n: sorry for the delay, but i did warn you it was gonna be long so- also i listened to ceilings on repeat whilst writing this so take that as you will 🫶

did i bend the maeve arc to my will for this fic? yes. yes i did.

taglist (slashed blogs couldn’t be tagged): @babyspiderling @marsxoxo2 @vytvyvy @hpstuff244444 @frostooo @ohmysw33 @radioactiveinvisible @devilsadvcte @the-local-pendeja @kakashis-formal-simp @robinswrld

You suppose you did it to yourself.

Spencer’s migraines had gotten increasingly worse over the last few months, and after a few consecutive days of hounding him, he’d finally decided to go and see a medical professional about it.

You’d expected him to come back with news about how his brain stem was too active from how hard he was working himself, or that he’d managed to raise his blood pressure to an unhealthy high from all the stress he was under.

Instead he’d told you that they couldn’t find anything physically wrong with him and that he’d been referred to a geneticist to check if the cause of his sudden mind-numbing aching was due to an underlying condition that might have been passed down from his mother.

He’d come back and forth to you for weeks about his phone calls with the doctor.

How she was helping him with his sleep deprivation.

How she was helping to manage his diet.

How she loved classic literature.

How she and him had spent four consecutive hours on the phone debating over the logistics of a novel they both enjoyed.

You could see the change happening before your eyes, and you weren’t the only one either.

“Pretty boy’s chipper this morning,” Morgan joins you at the kitchenette, his eyes following Spencer as he takes a seat at his desk with all of the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy who’d been let off his leash for the first time.

You hum with a nod, focusing your attention on the two cups of coffee you were making, heaping tablespoons of sugar into Spencer’s Doctor Who mug to satisfy his insatiable need for sweetness. “They’re reading a book together,”

“Really?” You respond to Morgan’s raised eyebrow with a short nod and another hum.

“Thoughts in Solitude by Thomas Merton, apparently she finds the religious analysis ‘fascinating’,” You can’t help the small contemptment that seeps into your tone as you reiterate what Spencer had told you to Morgan, and you can practically feel his pitiful gaze as he watches you make your coffee.

“I’ve heard of that book before from somewhere,”

“I tried to get him to read it a few months ago,” You take a sip of your coffee at the end of your sentence, barely able to taste it over the scolding water but not finding the mind to care.

You leave your conversation with Morgan at that, taking the two mugs in your hands and walking back into the bullpen, placing Spencer’s mug in front of him and walking around the cluster of desks to reach your own.

He’s sure he doesn’t need to verbalise it, but Morgan feels increasingly sorry for your situation, noting how you skirt past Spencer’s “thank you” without a response as you bury your head in your files.

he can’t imagine how much the fact that Spencer had seemingly formed a crush on his geneticist ripped you apart.

And the worst part? He’d never met her in person.

All scientific laws of attraction be damned, Spencer Reid had fallen in love with someone he’d never met in the span of three months, and you we’re resigning yourself to sit on the sidelines and watch as the man you had been in love with for six years find the happiness that you longed for with somebody else.

How you managed to keep up your facade you didn’t know.

You’d offered him change for the pay phone he’d call her from when he was running short. You’d let him rant to you about her opinions on a novel that you had failed to get him to read. You made excuses for him to leave the office early so that he could spend his time on the phone with her.

You were the one that sent him to the hospital and caused him to meet her in the first place.

He never hesitated to remind you of that fact, thanking you vicariously every time he relayed his conversations with the doctor back to you.

As the weeks progressed he stopped calling her that. She wasn’t ‘the doctor’ anymore. She was Maeve.

He didn’t call you by your first name and you’d known him for ten times longer that he’d known her. He didn’t even call Morgan by his first name and those two were practically brothers.

And that part was probably what hurt the most.

Maeve.

A name of Irish origin meaning ‘intoxicating’. How fitting.

Apparently the Irish goddess of love and desire was named Maeve. You could see the glimmer in Spencer’s eye that told you his Maeve was just as important as the mythological goddess he was describing.

His Maeve.

“So why haven’t you two actually gone on a date or anything?” You take a sip from the mug in your hands, swivelling your chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot. “You’ve been talking for what, four months now? Surely it’s about time you actually met her in person,”

“It’s complicated,” Spencer sighs as he collects the loose papers he was working on in a pile. He didn’t want to divulge Maeve’s issues without her permission.

“You’ve been saying that for the last six weeks Spencer,” You roll your eyes as you discard your half-empty mug on the table. “If I didn’t know any better i’d say you’re putting it off,”

Spencer shook his head adamantly at your suggestion. You couldn’t have been more wrong. He did want to meet her. Desperately. He’d wanted to meet her since the end of their first phone call. But he also wanted to keep her safe.

How do you meet up with somebody who’s hiding from a stalker without endangering them?

“I do want to meet her. It’s just- she’s dealing with something personal and it’s put a rift our plans, that’s all,”

“So it’s her not wanting to meet up with you then?” You raise an eyebrow at him over your desks.

“Look it’s- You don’t get it okay? It was a mutual understanding from both of us.” You can hear Spencer’s tone become more defensive as you spoke, and you raised both of your hands in surrender.

“Okay, i’m sorry for prying-” You ended your apology with a laugh, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite feeling your heart deflate in your chest at the way the friendliness his his eyes fizzled out the longer you looked at him.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer’s late to work this morning.

It’s 8:06 when he finally walks through the glass doors, the coffee you made him stone cold after sitting lamely on his desk for the better part of twenty minutes. He doesn’t so much as offer an apology as he picks up the mug and makes his way over to the kitchenette to pour the coffee down the sink.

You follow behind him in a mix of intrigue and a want to refill your own mug, swilling it out with some water as you watch Spencer load a coffee pod into the machine. “Phone call last longer than you expected?”

“Hm? Oh- yeah, we were discussing the literary analysis of Annabelle Lee,” Spencer’s demeanour seems to brighten immediately once he’s given an opportunity to discuss the details of his phone call with Maeve, although the beginning of his ramble is quickly cut off by the beeping of the coffee machine.

You wait patiently for his coffee to finish before you begin making yours, raising an eyebrow as Spencer pulls out a regular teaspoon instead of the usual tablespoon he’d incorrectly use to load his coffee with sugar.

Your intrigue only heightened when he pulled a carton of milk from the mini-fridge. Not even normal milk. Soy milk.

“Since when do you drink coffee like a normal person?”

His eyes flickered from his mug to your face as he tipped a single teaspoon of sugar into his drink before replacing the bag back where it came from. “It’s a part of my managed diet, Maeve thinks that my increased sugar intake might be one of the risk factors for my headaches,”

“Did she tell you to put soy milk in it too?” You don’t know why you have the urge to be petty, Spencer had long since needed to change his coffee drinking habits for the sake of decreasing his sugar intake and Maeve’s suggestions were beneficial for his health.

It was just the fact that it was her that ticked you off.

“She did actually, it provides the same amount of riboflavin as cow’s milk, which acts as a soothing agent whilst also helping constrict inflamed blood vessels, but without all of the excess fats in regular milk that might make my migraines more frequent, it’s genius really,”

He thought that her ideas were genius. Him. Mr ‘I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187’, thought someone else’s ideas were genius.

You’re sure that he already knew the benefits of milk alternatives, and yet he attributed the ‘revelation’ of what they could do to Maeve. Of course he did.

“When was the last time you made a decision for yourself?” The question comes out much harsher than you intend it to, and you can tell by the way Spencer furrows his eyebrows that he’s taken offence to it.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” No it didn’t. “I’m just a little surprised that someone as independent as you is so… willing to follow blind instructions,” Your attempt at saving yourself half-works, that wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears and you can see that the glimmer in his eyes is returning slowly.

“She’s a doctor, of course i’m going to follow her suggestions,”

You give him a soft nod as you pick up your mug from under the coffee machine. “Yeah, no, that makes sense, it’s just a little surprising is all,”

You don’t give him a chance to respond to you before you’re walking away from the kitchenette to retake a seat at your desk, fearing you might say something out of pocket if you continue the conversation any longer.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were really pissed off now.

You’d arrived back in Quantico three days ago, and you were still piled up to your neck in paperwork.

Maybe you would’ve had it finished by now if Spencer would stop talking about the fact that he was “-finally going to meet Maeve in person,”.

You had half the mind to snap and tell him to just shut up, although by the saving grace of Morgan you thankfully didn’t have to.

“Reid, give their poor ears a break man,” Your thankful for Morgan in times like this. He knew you were knee-deep in your feelings for Spencer, and he knew that every time Spencer so much as spoke Maeve’s name it carved another hairline fracture in your heart.

You were close to shattering, and Morgan could tell.

“Oh- right, sorry,” Spencer offered you an awkward smile which you mirrored back at him.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it,” You shake your head in a polite dismissal of his apology before turning your head back down towards your files.

“I take it you’re nervous then?” Alex’s voice cut through the beginning of an awkward tension between the two of you as she entered to bullpen with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Well- I mean- you know…” Upon being unable to find a sufficient response, Spencer resorts to shrugging into his chair. “I just don’t want to ruin anything,”

“But aren’t you curious what she looks like?” Alex raises an eyebrow with concern like Spencer was he son going on his first ever date.

“it doesn’t matter what she looks like I mean- she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me it’s just-”

You don’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation.

You sudden upheaval from your desk stops Spencer’s sentence as his eyes follow you across the bullpen and out of the glass doors, followed shortly by Morgan as he jogs after you.

“Hey- Wait up a minute-” Morgan catches your arm before you have a chance to get in the elevator, and as you turn your eyes towards him he can see the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..”

Morgan can do nothing more than pull your head into his shoulder and wrap his arms tightly around your back with a soft mutter of your name. “I know kid, I know…”

“He thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” You turn your head up from Morgan’s shoulder to meet his eyes, a single stray tear cascading down your cheek, illuminated under the florescent lights. “How am I supposed to compete with that..?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Incidentally, Spencer’s date with Maeve didn’t end up happening. Conflicting work schedules or something, you weren’t really listening.

Maybe all of your subconscious thoughts had leaked into reality and finally gave you momentary release from the crushing defeat of having Spencer go on a date with someone else.

Maybe it was them punishing you further by forcing you to sit through him rant about the book she’d left him at the front of the restaurant.

It didn’t help that you already had a headache that made it feel like your eye sockets were being kicked by an annoying kid sat behind you on an aeroplane, leaving a dull ache in it’s wake and making you just want to bury yourself in a hole and hibernate.

“And right at the back she wrote ’Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another’ it’s a quote from-”

“Thomas Merton. Yeah, I know.” You dig the knuckle of your left thumb into cavity of your eye socket over your closed eyelid, hoping to relieve some of the tension that’s lingering there and disrupting your thoughts.

“Thomas Merton’s ‘Love and Living’ specifically,” If Spencer noticed your discomfort he didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s a collection of his essays on the importance of love to live, so for her to have written it specifically knowing that I would read it means-”

“Reid.”

Your tone stops him from continuing any further, and he blinks at you with that sweet puppy-dog expression that would usually have you weak at the knees.

“No offence, but I don’t care about your over-the-phone girlfriend or the quote that she wrote in your book.” Your tone carried a harshness to it that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing from you. It was cold and detached and not like you at all.

“Are- you okay?”

“No, Reid, I’m not, and if you’d bothered to ask about my life every once in a while instead of using me like a human diary maybe you would’ve realised that already.”

You practically slam your file closed as you speak, pushing your chair out from your desk and leaving him sat in shock at your sudden change in attitude.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

After a bit of introspection, Spencer did realise that he hadn’t been treating you very fairly. He hadn’t asked you how your life had been in 3 months and 26 days. Four of those days he’d spent in damn near radio silence. He wasn’t sure he could take it much longer.

He missed you.

It was a bit ironic considering you sat directly opposite him for almost eight hours a day five days a week, but after you’d snapped at him last week, he truly realised just how much of his day he spent socialising with you, and just how much he missed talking to you.

So he decided that he was going to apologise.

And what better form of an apology for being dismissive of your feelings than putting a personal effort into something for you.

He walked into the office that morning with a leather bound copy of The Parasite by Arthur Conan Doyle stored cautiously in his messenger bag, pages scrawled with annotations from Spencer’s own reading of the novel that he hoped would be insightful to you as you read it yourself.

He’d remembered you saying how much you wanted to read the novel a few months ago, so he figured giving it to you as a personalised apology would show that he really did care about you and had listened to what you’d told him.

“Are you busy?” Spencer asks, though he already knows the answer to the question.

He’d been watching you from the other side of the room all morning, hoping for a moment or two of eye contact to see if there was a possibility of a conversation. A look from one to the other; even a smile would’ve been enough to make him feel validated and content. And he would have been willing to settle for that.

But you never looked up. Not even once.

"Mhm," You continue to not spare Spencer so much as glance as he speaks, turning over the page of the file you were working through.

“Can I take a minute of your time?” He tried to catch your gaze again, only to be met by your continued focus on your work. The last thing he wanted to do was disrupt your work routine, but he also knew that he needed to talk to you sooner rather than later.

“Please,” he said softly. “It’s important.”

You exhale heavily through your nose, exasperation written clearly in your expression as you leave your pen as a page marker to close the manilla folder on your desk. You turn your head upwards, raising an eyebrow and opening your hands to agitatedly indicate for him to continue.

You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt being so openly cold towards Spencer, but you’d reached a breaking point, and you couldn’t bare sitting idly on the sidelines and letting him tear your heart to pieces anymore.

Spencer was relieved that you’d granted him your attention, but the look you directed towards him was enough to make him wince. You weren’t looking at him through a lens of indifference but rather cold, hard disappointment.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather the right words for what he had to say.

“I’m sorry,”

He seemed almost breathless as he spoke, like he’d just finished a tangent about something without taking the time to breathe. “I know that I’ve been spending too much time talking about Maeve and not enough paying attention to you.”

"You don’t say," You mutter the words under your breath to yourself, but your sure that Spencer heard you based on the way his eyebrows knit and the small gleam of hope in his eyes dwindles to barely a flicker.

He was trying not to react to your snide comment. Spencer knew that your tone didn’t leave any room to deny your meaning. He’d been selfish in talking exclusively about his relationship and hadn’t realised how it was affecting you.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer repeated. “You mean so much to me and I haven’t been showing that.”

"Thank you," Your thanks are polite but dismissive, like you were acknowledging his apology but choosing to not actually consider it as one, and it left Spencer with an expression of clear frustration.

He was used to being able to read your facial expressions and emotions in the past, but now you were just an unreadable wall of disappointment. He had hoped the apology would've been enough, but it was clear that you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

Time to pull out the last resort.

He bent over and fumbled with his bag for a few moments before pulling out the novel he’d brought with him face up.

“I uh… got you this,” He holds out the book towards you. “You said you wanted to read it right? So I uh.. annotated it for you to make it more enjoyable,”

You take the novel from him with a raised eyebrow as your eyes scan the cover, a clear flicker of confusion in your expression.

Spencer noticed your expression and furrowed his own brow in confusion. You didn't seem to recognise the book. In fact, the look on your face made him wonder whether you even knew this book existed at all before this moment.

“I hope you… like it,” he said nervously. “I was going off what you'd talked about before. You mentioned the book was a classic?”

"I… have never seen this book in my life,”

“B-But…” Spencer knew this was going to be awkward at some point, but he'd hoped not this early into the conversation. He could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment, and it was only getting worse as he searched your face for an answer to this awkward situation.

“I… swear I heard you mention it once.”

You give him a short shake of your head and a pursed smile of awkward thanks as you put the book down on your desk.

Spencer looked away, embarrassed beyond belief. He hadn't even been able to deliver an apology properly, let alone make you feel special like he'd originally intended to.

How had he gotten it wrong? He had an eidetic memory for god’s sake.

When you put the book down on your desk, his eyes flicked back to the book. He'd spent almost 4 hours annotating and researching it and now it felt like all that effort had been wasted.

If you hadn’t mentioned it then who had? Someone must’ve. Someone he obviously equated with you to the point where he’d somehow managed to override his eidetic memory to mix the two of you up.

It takes him a few moments before you hear him whisper out a name under his breath, the palm of his hand dragging down the front of his face at the realisation.

"Maeve…"

The mention of her name had your eyes flickering away from the leather cover and right back to Spencer’s face, awkwardness completely rid of your features and replaced with a mix of negativity that Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to dig into.

"Are you serious?" Your words come out less questioningly and more accusatory, and you hold the book up so that he can see it once more, the gold embossing on the cover glinting under the overhead light as if to only taunt Spencer further for his mistake.

“You apologise for continuously disregarding me for your girlfriend by giving me a book that she showed interest in?”

You could see Spencer's face fall as your words sink in.

He hadn't even taken the time to think over what he was apologising with. It was almost as if his brain automatically just reverted back to his girlfriend's interests as an escape from dealing with his own guilt and sadness.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself. And in that moment he realised he'd just committed the biggest crime someone could make when trying to apologise.

“Like you constantly flaunting your relationship in my face verbally wasn’t bad enough.”

"I'm sorry I-" he says again, voice teeming with sincerity and guilt.

"You are truly and utterly unbelievable Spencer Reid." Your words didn’t carry anger as much as they did disappointment, and he could see the astoundment in your eyes as you pushed your chair backwards to stand, dropping the book straight in the trash bin by your desk before walking off.

It’s where it belongs; Right alongside the small sliver of respect you still had for him.

Spencer could've said so much more: he could've admitted how ashamed he felt for his careless actions and he could've apologised again and again a million times if it meant you'd stick around and give him a chance to make it up to you.

But you had already made it clear that you weren't in the right state of mind to discuss this matter further.

The best thing he could do now was give you space as he watched you walk away, a deep pain in his heart that slowly ate him alive from the inside.

He’d well and truly fucked up.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You were bordering tears by the time you reached Garcia’s office, unintentionally interrupting her lunch break with Alex in the process, though the two seemed to care less about the interruption and more about the fact that you liked like you were about to cry your eyes out.

You take in a sharp breath through your nose as you try to tape together the cracks in your composure, although with every one you seal three more seem to appear in it’s place.

“I-” You can barely get the first word out before the tears start rolling down your face, and Alex immediately stands from her seat to guide you to sit in her place.

“Hey, you’re alright, slowly,” Alex’s hands find your shoulders and rub reassuring circles against your shirt. The slow breath you take in doesn’t stop the flood of tears that’s blurring your vision, and you only manage to get out a single word, but it’s all the two need to understand what’s got you so overwhelmed.

“Spencer-”

“I swear I am two seconds away from smacking that boy over the back of the head,” You can hear the clear frustration in Garcia’s tone. “Surely he’s got to realise how much he’s hurting you by now,”

“He does… I lashed out at him and then left to come here…” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand alongside a small sniffle, trying to rid your vision of it’s blurriness from your tears.

“Good, the boy deserves to have some sense knocked into him,” You appreciate Garcia taking your side, but you can’t help that small lingering feeling of guilt that invades the back of your mind.

“He’s just in love, it’s not his fault…” The words almost physically pain you to say. The verbal acceptance that Spencer Reid was indeed in love with somebody. Somebody who wasn’t you.

“That doesn’t mean that he should be disregarding you though sweetheart,” Alex’s tone is soft and almost maternal, and your sure that it doesn’t help how emotional you are.

Garcia’s right hand reaches forward to straighten out the collar of your shirt, unintentionally crumpled as you try to wipe your face of your emotions. “You’re his friend, and you have been his friend for longer than he’s known this girl he’s talking to, it’s not fair for him to completely push you to the side,”

Garcia was right. It’s not fair. Nothing about how Spencer had been treating you since he’d started speaking to Maeve had been fair. And you were done making excuses for the boy just because you knees deep in your feelings for him.

You didn’t deserve to feel guilty. You didn’t deserve to feel bad for lashing out at Spencer for apologising for not showing interest in your life by further proving just how little he’d actually payed attention to you. You didn’t deserve to cry because he was the most stupid genius to ever live and couldn’t see that you were hopelessly in love with him. You didn’t deserve to suffer by his hand.

It wasn’t fair.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Maeve’s been kidnapped.”

You have to consciously suppress the small voice in the back of your head that celebrates the possibility that she might not be a part of Spencer’s life for much longer. It’s a horrible thought. You should never wish ill upon anyone, no matter how much you internally despised them.

Still, that part of you that was still petty, that was still infuriated with Spencer and Maeve, wanted you to tell Spencer straight to his face that you weren’t going to help him find her and that it was karma for how he’d treated you.

But you weren’t a bad person.

As much as you might hate her, she was still important to Spencer.

“I have a wealth of knowledge i should be applying to this case, but- i can’t focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time… which makes me the dumbest person in the room-” Spencer’s eyes are full of desperation as they scan across your teammates.

“So please help me… Please help me find her…” The desperation in his voice is heartbreaking, the remnants of tears staining his face as he explains the context of the situation through broken sentences.

“We don’t have an official case, so we’ll be working on personal time,” Hotch’s voice is much quieter than you’re used to. Softer, more considerate. “Does anybody want to leave?”

You can feel his eyes linger on you as he asks the question, and you subconsciously purse your mouth into a tight line to stop yourself from impulsively pulling out of the investigation.

You might be detrimentally frustrated with him, but you did want to help. Even if it ultimately resulted in your downfall.

Hotch gave you a short nod before turning to the rest of the team. “Good, let’s get to work,”

It didn’t take Garcia very long to track Maeve down, mostly attributed to her unique name and specialised job.

Dr. Maeve Donovan, a professor at Mendel University who took a sabbatical leave 10 months ago.

The group split into different groups once they’d found her, JJ and Morgan heading off to a loft her parents owned, Alex and Rossi heading to the lab she used to work at, and you and Hotch, accompanied by Spencer, going to speak to Maeve’s parents.

“Reid,” Garcia’s tone is soft as she looks over her laptop screen towards him as he begins to stand from the conference table. “I have a picture of her, do you want to know what she looks like?”

“No,”

Spencer’s answer is immediate, joined by a shake of his head.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You and Spencer watched from behind the one way mirror as the interview progressed.

They’d last spoken to Maeve five days ago. Her mother had cancer. She was also a geneticist. They were suspicious of her ex fiancé Bobby.

Her fiancé?

You can see Spencer’s face drop at the words despite the low lighting in the room, and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows yourself.

She had a fiancé?

Spencer practically storms out of the office after the questioning is over, and Hotch has to remind him to calm down as they reach the apartment of Robert Putnam with Morgan and Rossi in tow.

When the door opens the five of you aren’t greeted by Robert, but rather a girl, a girl who looked very confused.

You invite yourselves inside at the girl’s recognition that Robert was inside the apartment.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Diane, his girlfriend,” She raised an eyebrow as the five of you looked around, confusion cut short as Robert rounds the corner questioning the sudden voices coming from his living room.

“Hey babe what’s-“

“Robert Putnam, FBI we’d like to-” Spencer’s voice cuts him off harshly as he rushes to speak, although he stops his sentence halfway as a flicker of recognition falls across his features and his anger turns to dread.

“Hey, I know you,” Robert doesn’t have the time to say anything else to Spencer before Hotch forces him out of the room, shutting the door behind him to speak to Spencer privately whilst you Morgan and Rossi remained inside.

Hotch returned a few minutes later. Spencer didn’t.

You end up taking Hotch’s place as you push yourself out of the apartment with a small “excuse me,” to follow after Spencer as he walks out of the apartment building.

“Spencer- wait up a minute-”

He doesn’t stop at your call, and you’re practically running down the stairs by the time you get to him, already out of the front doors of the apartment building.

“Hey-” You take a second to catch your breath before turning your eyes back towards him again. “Are you alright?”

You could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes as he met your gaze.

The last time you spoke to him you threw away any remnant of your friendship with him in the bin alongside the book he’d given you, and now here you were, chasing after him to make sure that he was okay.

“Why did you agree to help?”

Your face falls from concern to surprise at his question, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I know that you don’t like her, so why are you here?” You could see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, clearly overwhelmed with how the investigation was going.

“She’s important to you Spencer. Like her or not I care about you. So therefore I care about her,” You don’t think as you speak, words spilling out of your mouth with no conscious filter.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer’s apology elicits a sigh from your mouth, and you shake your head softly at him.

“Forget it, let’s focus on getting Maeve home safe alright?” He obliges to your request with a purse of his lips and a small nod, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“What’re you thinking about?” His eyes fall on yours once more at your question, round with confusion and glistening with the starts of tears. “I can see it in your face, you’re calculating something in your head,”

He exhales through his mouth in a small laugh. You’d always been able to figure him out, and not just because you were a profiler.

“2,412 hours,” His tone is uncertain, mixed between gratefulness for you observance and something far more upsetting. “That’s how long Maeve and I have contacted each other counting letters and phone calls…”

“That’s what-” You take a second to do the calculation in your head. “100 days?”

“100.5…” He runs his hand backwards through his hair, pressing his eyes closed like he’s afraid tears will spill from them if he doesn’t. “What if that’s all I get?”

“It won’t be Spencer…”

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes Spencer, I do,” You have to consciously suppress the sigh that threatens to leave your mouth, pushing your lingering distaste for Maeve down with it. “She is going to be fine, I promise,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Turns out Maeve’s ex fiancé wasn’t the stalker. In fact, he was being stalked himself, and whilst JJ and Garcia were looking over the images posted to Robert whilst him and Maeve were still together they discovered something that changed the entire direction of the investigation.

Maeve’s face had scribbled out in eyeliner.

You and the team spent the next thirty minutes rebuilding the profile from the bottom up.

“Celebrity stalkers are usually non violent,”

“You want to tell that to John Lennon Rossi?” Spencer looked up from his lap towards the group at the table, having separated himself from the group to sit on a sofa lining one of the walls so he couldn’t bias the profile.

It wasn’t going too well.

“What was it that Mark David Chapman said after he shot him?” Spencer stood from his seat, anger flaring in his nostrils. “‘It was like all of my nobody-ness and all of his somebody-ness collided’,”

You could hear the rise in his tone as he worked himself up the more he spoke.

“Spencer-“

“Maeve is somebody. And this- bitch is a nobody.”

“Spencer.”

Spencer caught your gaze, and immediately fizzling out of his eyes and replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry- I can’t be very helpful right now I should leave-“

“Yes you can Reid, you have 100.5 days of communication with this girl and a recall everything verbatim,” Morgan’s gaze is entirely concerned with Spencer’s outburst.

“There’s too much of it, and I can’t sort through any of it clearly-“ Spencer is clearly on the edge of breaking, and you can tell he’s not going to be able to keep his composure for much longer.

“Then pick one of us and we’ll go through it with you,” Hotch leaned his elbows against the table, his voice again portraying that soft, parental tone that said he knew how overwhelmed Spencer was getting.

Spencer didn’t even say anything, his eyes just silently flickered over to you and you knew you couldn’t refuse him.

You return his silence as you get up from your seat and pat your hand on his shoulder for the two of you to exit the room together.

Time to torture yourself for the sake of Spencer’s wellbeing.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Diane Turner, a research assistant working for her PhD in the same lab as Maeve. A student who had her thesis rejected because it contained a heavy sample bias that included both of her parents.

It took a while, but Garcia eventually managed to track down a loft that was owned under Diane’s parents’ names, less than 10 minutes away from Maeve’s apartment.

“Take your gun and vest off,” Diane’s voice is harsh through the receiver attached to the front of the building, and Spencer’s eyes flickered up from the silk blindfold in his hands to the metal box.

He doesn’t question the orders as he immediately begins stripping the vest from his torso, dropping it and his gun on the floor.

“Now come in alone.”

“Spencer.” You call out to him as he reaches for the door handle, and he gives you that look that makes your stomach do flips in your torso. Except this time it’s not that pleasant fluttery feeling, but instead an existential dread at the fact that he might not walk out of the building alive.

“I’ll be okay,” He gives you a nod of reassurance as he pushes the door open, and you find yourself clenching your hands around your gun to stop yourself from following after him.

The six of you wait outside for what feels like hours, and you lean back and forth on the balls of your feet as you become increasingly restless with the situation.

Then, a gunshot.

And a second.

And your heart drops in your chest.

You’re not entirely present as you rush into the building with the team following behind you, gun raised at your eyes.

Spencer had to be okay. He had to. He was going to be fine. You were going to walk into that room and he was going to be perfectly fine.

You hoped Maeve was alright too. As much as she was unintentionally causing you literal hell, you knew that she meant everything to Spencer.

You knew that he’d choose her over anything. He’d choose her over you.

And right now you don’t care. You just want him to be okay.

You force the door open to the loft with your foot, gun pointed straight ahead at the first person you see.

“Stay back-“ Spencer practically shouts from where he’s half lying on the floor, right hand clutching tightly at his left bicep, trails of blood cascading down his fingers and onto the floor.

“Stay back stay back don’t shoot-“

You let out an audible sigh at the fact that Spencer wasn’t critically harmed, although upon a whimper of his name from further across the room you turn your eyes up to the noise.

And you finally meet the girl that’s caused you ten months of hell. Held at gunpoint.

That small voice in the back of your head tells you that this might be your chance to finally rid her from your life, to let her succumb to whatever Diane had planned and leave Spencer to you.

But you take one look at the desperation in her eyes and any loathing that remained in your mind immediately fizzled out.

It wasn’t her fault. Of course it wasn’t. She was just a girl that happened to be in love.

“Diane,” Spencer pushes himself to stand, and you can see the pain in his face as he does. “There’s still a way out of this,”

“You never wanted me. Never!” Diane pushes the gun she’s holding hard against Maeve’s neck, and you can see her eyes squeeze closed as she attempts to keep herself from crying. “You lied!”

“I didn’t.”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly, and you glance over at Hotch as you spread across the back of the room, guns raised in Diane’s direction. “Diane, I offered you a deal, and you can still take it,”

“Me for her. Let me take her place,”

You only have a view of the back of Spencer’s head now, but you can tell by the tone of his voice that his expression is a pure display of desperation, one that you’re happy you can’t see because you’d lose your composure in an instant.

“You would do that?” Diane’s question is angry and accusatory, tears rolling down her face as she presses the gun against Maeve’s neck once more.

Spencer nods with no threat in his tone. “Yes,”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

You practically feel your heart stop.

“Thomas Merton,” Maeve’s voice is almost exactly as you imagined it to be. Soft, smooth and, as Spencer had called it all those months ago, ‘dipped in honey’.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane’s tone contrasts Maeve’s tenfold, pitchy, uneven and overrun with manic anger.

“He knows,” You can see Maeve’s eyes flicker, and you assume that they meet Spencer’s as his shoulders drop. “He knows.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane shakes Maeve in her grasp as if to intensify the urgence of her question, and you tighten your grip on your gun in instinctual response. “Who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve’s voice is confident and defiant despite the clear tears in her eyes.

Thomas Merton could’ve been something between Spencer and you.

“No.”

You can see a clear change in Diane’s expression at Maeve’s words, and she lowers the gun from Maeve’s head only to hold it up against her own, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes.

“Wait-”

Spencer barely has time to shout the word before the gun fires, and you flinch at the sound as you watch Maeve and Diane both drop to the floor, dark red blood pooling around the two.

You can feel the tension in the room as everyone computes what just happened, guns lowering slowly as their eyes lock onto the two women on the floor.

You’re not focused on that. You’re focused on the tightness of Spencer’s shoulders as he takes sharp breaths in and out of his nose.

The way he seems to forget about the bullet wound in his arm as his legs give out underneath him.

The way a sob that leaves his mouth despite the fact that he tries to muffle it with his hand.

The way that Spencer broke.

He's crying. Big, heaving, heart-wrenching sobs.

His shoulders are trembling.

His hands are shaking.

His head is hanging downwards so that his hair is covering his face.

You approach him slowly, kneeling down at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

His eyes slowly shift from Maeve, his sobs only seeming to amplify as he meets your gaze. His eyes are red and closely with tears, his cheeks running hot and his lips trembling.

You don’t speak, knowing that you’ll break if you do. Instead, you guide his head into your shoulder and let him crumble in your arms, grieving the loss of the love of his life.

You’re sure you’re going to cry yourself to sleep when you get home, but right now, you needed to be strong. For him.

“I’m so sorry-“ Spencer speaks through broken sobs as you hold him, the rest of the team moving to secure the scene.

“Shh,” You shake your head against his softly, rubbing the palm of your hand up and down his back as you let him cry until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“I treated you so horribly-“ He pulls away from your shoulder to look into your eyes once more. “I’m so sorry- Please don’t leave me…”

You purse your lips into a line, your expression full of so many emotions Spencer can’t distinguish any of them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You pull his head back into your shoulder, leaning your head against his. “I promise…”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #asks 🫶

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sweatervest-obsessed · 7 months

Text

Quand Tu Voudras

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: ~7.2k

TW: kissing, angst, blood, burns, cuts, bruises, arguments, crying, depression, mention of EDs, panicking, explosions, drinking, self-image issues, mentions of addiction, mentions of drug use, mentions of Maeve

A/N: Third and Final Part babyyyyyy let's GO. I'm actually excited to watch each part get its own vibes, but also be a cohesive story. I really hope you all enjoy it! Thank y'all for doing me on this crazy journey!

Dedicated to New Lovers , You're Keeping Me Down

“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” ~Orson Welles

It was the most beautiful you had ever looked.

Shopping for a wedding dress was one of the most terrifying experiences you had ever lived through, and you had been shot multiple times.

But being surrounded by your closest friends and family members as you tried on dress after dress kept you going.

You finally found the perfect one in a small shop outside of the DC area, hidden in a little suburb where life wasn’t as rushed as it felt.

You tried on only three dresses at this little boutique. The second was almost perfect, and you were about to “say yes to the dress,” but someone was reorganizing the front rack, and that’s when the one you were currently wearing appeared, sent by the higher powers.

It fits you perfectly.

You started to cry when you saw yourself in the mirror, which caused Garcia to start crying, which caused Emily and JJ to cry, and the rest of your family quickly followed.

So it was only natural that staring at yourself in the mirror right now made you tear up again.

“Oh, Babe, no.” Emily was quick to fan your eyes as you tilted your head back, letting the tears melt back into your eyes.

“I can’t help it.” You grumbled, eyes wide as you tried calming your breathing slowly. “It’s just so pretty…”

“I know, I know. My money is on Derek crying first.”

“Oh, please. We all know Rossi won’t stop crying the second he takes his seat.”

You had decided that the only people you wanted at the ceremony were close friends and family. That meant the team, their little ones, and each of your parents. Small. Peaceful. Intimate.

Derek was over the moon when you asked him to officiate your wedding, wanting him to be there for you in every way since that’s always been his role.

You had taken him out for coffee under the very real guise that wedding planning made you want to rip your head off and chuck it out to sea.

“Okay, baby girl, talk to me.”

The ice was melting in the cup from the warmth of your hands, making your hands wet with the condensation, hiding the sweat from your nerves.

“Do you know how much flowers cost?”

Derek chuckled and shook his head. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“The government doesn’t pay me enough for the amount of flowers I want at my reception.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have picked the Peabody Library as your reception location.”

“In my defense.” You furrowed your brows. “You were with us when we toured it. It’s perfect, Derek. Don’t tell me it’s not.”

“No, it’s perfect; I just don’t understand why you need that many flowers.”

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t even know me, Derek Morgan.”

“He’s going to cry first.” Emily smiled, lightly dabbing under your eyes with some of your powder foundation to show that you weren’t almost crying.

“I will buy you a whole bottle of Möet that Rossi will cry first.”

As JJ entered the room, you and Emily shook hands, giggling like school girls. “Almost ready?”

You nodded, glancing over at yourself in the mirror.

Honestly, you had never thought this day would come. Your wedding day. After everything you had been through, all of the heartbreak, all of the confusion, all of the traveling and running away. Everything you could possibly think of going wrong just went wrong. Suddenly, the flowers weren’t delivered, and then no one showed up to the reception, and then you were left at the altar, abandoned and unloveable again. You couldn’t breathe; your chest was seizing. It was too tight. There wasn’t enough fresh air in the room. Your heartbeat was too loud, and you couldn’t look away from yourself in the mirror. This wasn’t real; Everything bad happening was in your head.

Or maybe it was an awful dream, and you need to wake up before it gets too far and your heart gets shattered again.

JJ whispered your name, reaching out for you, sending a shock of electricity through your arm when she touched it.

You jumped.

“I want to talk to him.” You blurted out, looking over at JJ. “I–I need to talk to him.”

“You said yes.”

You nodded, staring down at your wine glass, pondering if it was the right decision. Emily was wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know if it’s the best idea for you to go back to—”

“It is.” You cut her off, not harshly, just firmly. “I haven’t been the same since I left the BAU, and I left for perfectly valid reasons, Em, I know. But….”

“But?”

“But I miss it. Don’t you? It flexes my muscles in ways I couldn’t replicate, and I was so good at it. I felt smart and useful and not lost, wandering the islands of Greece.”

If you didn’t know her so well, Emily’s fake gasp could have easily been mistaken for a real one. “We had a fantastic time, and you know it.”

“Yes, but I also know that I was feeling so unfulfilled intellectually that I went off and got a Ph.D. Like, come on, I never wanted a PhD before I left; I just didn’t know how to challenge myself.”

“That is fair. I just think you need to consider the fact that you’d be working with you know who.”

“You can say his name, Emily. He’s not some dark lord; he’s just an idiot with an IQ of 187.”

“Yeah, Yeah, look. I have to go, but we are not done with this conversation, okay? I’ll need a full PowerPoint presentation with all the pros and the cons.”

“Yes, ma’am, I can do that. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

You heard the click of her line going dead before there was a knock on your door. You quickly pressed play on your movie, letting one of your favorite rom-coms (When Harry Met Sally) play in the background as you scrounged around for where you had left your wallet.

Clad in an oversized shirt you’ve had forever, plaid pajama shorts that were once part of a Christmas set, and your comfiest fuzzy socks, you slid over to the door once you had found your wallet.

You opened the door. “How much…”

His eyes met yours, and you took a small step back.

“You are not the pizza guy.”

“No. I’m not.”

His answer caused you to laugh a little bit, filling his chest with a warmth he hadn’t felt in over two years.

“Can I–” He gestured into your house, and you moved to the side, allowing him to enter.

“I, um….” You bit your lip and eyed him up and down. “As long as you’re okay with When Harry Met Sally playing in the background.”

“Time for the annual rewatch.” He smiled at you nervously, but a very small part of yourself enjoyed the fact that he remembered.

You headed back towards the couch, casually trying to clean up as you went to give the impression that you were cleaner than you were.

“Shoes off before you get to the couch.” You called over your shoulder.

The door closed behind Spencer with a soft click.

“Honey, you said you don’t want a first look.”

“We don’t have to look at each other—I don’t know, like a corner or something. I just..I-I-I.”

JJ watched as your panic started to bubble over, and she took your hands in hers. “Want to call him first?”

You nodded. “Y-Yeah, let’s try that.”

JJ handed you your phone off the vanity, watching as you dialed the number, panicking even more when it wouldn’t connect—there was no service.

Spencer had asked you to play chess with him that night, and you obliged. Something about falling into an old routine felt good; it felt right. A movie you chose in the background while playing chess against Spencer. Some things were always meant to be. The night was filled with laughs, small talk, and contentment–life feeling like it should.

A familiarity shrouded you both, mocking the comfort you once used to feel.

When you won, he was a bit baffled. You had only beaten him a few times, and he was focusing on all of the outcomes. How could he not notice—

“You can’t win every game, Spence.”

His heart lodged in his throat at the nickname, and he looked up at you, that goofy half smile on his lips.

Lovestruck. He looked lovestruck.

And then you exhaled. “We can’t avoid it forever. I know that’s why you came here in the first place.”

He blinked away the love, replacing it with guilt, hurt, fragments of something you both had grieved in your own time.

“Y-yeah. Let’s um, let’s talk about…”

You redialled the number only to be met with the same beeping as before, eyes wide as you looked at JJ. “There’s no service. JJ, I can’t–he won’t…”

Emily handed you her phone–it was ringing, thank god.

“Hey Emily, is everything okay?”

“It’s me.” You said simply, but the wobble in your voice said everything he needed to hear.

“oh–Honey, talk to me. What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I-I…” You swallowed your tears and looked over at your two friends—you gestured slightly, silently asking them to leave the room so you could talk to your future husband alone. They obliged, letting the door close. It was nice of them to pretend like they weren’t running over to see if they could eavesdrop from his room, but they were just met with Derek in the hall, who had also been booted out.

“Is she okay?”

Emily shook her head. “No idea. She was fine one moment, and she was about to burst the next. Like a complete shift of personality.”

Derek sighed. “I’ve never seen him switch so quickly either. He was all nervous one minute, but the second he heard her voice….he almost sounded like Hotch doing damage control.”

JJ laughed slightly at that, glancing back at the door hiding you behind it.

“Do you think she’ll go through with it?” Derek whispered slowly, making sure no one was around to hear him.

Emily fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist. “She’s terrified he’s not going to.”

“Look, Spence, I get it. Shit happens. But you don’t know what it was like, coming home one day and you were laughing with someone else. You hadn’t laughed for months, almost a year, before then.”

“I know. I’m so–”

“Say sorry one more fucking time. Sorry isn’t explaining…or talking to me. I know you have trouble expressing whatever bullshit is going on in your head, but you have to try. It’s me, for fucks sake, Spence, And while I am willing to wait, I can only be so patient for so long with no actual explanation—”

“I was terrified of you.”

“What…”

Spencer stood up, pacing back and forth in front of your coffee table, trying to find the right words. “You were so far gone when Em died, and you had sunk into this pit of despair, and I was scared of watching you push down this path, destructive and–and; I didn’t know who you were, and I was so scared to watch you go down this path so I turned away instead.”

“Spencer, you ran to JJ. You just left me here, alone. And then, when she comes back, you fucking threaten the fact that you were having Dilaudid cravings?”

“I think he’s even more mortified that she will back out on him. He knows everything she’s gone through. I mean–I love her, but she’s got major commitment issues.”

JJ slapped his arm and glared at him. “And for good reason, Derek.”

Derek grumbled an ‘ow,’ rubbing at his arm. “I’m not saying it wasn’t justified–I completely side with her on it--I’m just pointing out what we already know.”

Spencer closed his eyes. “I don’t love you anymore.”

Your heart leaped into your throat, or maybe it was vomit, you weren’t sure, but all you could do was stare at him from across the kitchen countertop.

“Since this was my place first, uh…I can give you a couple of weeks to find a place, and I’ll even sleep on the couch…”

You hadn’t even spoken yet, shaking your head. “Stop. Spencer. What.”

Your head was pounding, hands gripping onto the counter to try and steady yourself.”

“Sorry.” He whispered. He couldn’t even look at you. He was just staring at his hands, almost unsure about what he was saying.

“Sorry?” You laughed, tears starting to track down your cheeks. “Spencer, this has to be a sick fucking joke..”

He shook his head.

Behind the door, You were just pacing back and forth, listening to his voice, trying to erase this memory from your mind and find a new one to replace it, barely listening to the man on the other end of the line.

“Hey, listen to me. It’s going to be okay. If you want to call the whole thing off, everyone will understand. If it’s not right—.”

“No.” You responded immediately. “I–I, I want to do this, I want to marry you…just…”

“You just needed some reassurance. I know.”

You nodded, not realizing he couldn’t hear you nod, but somehow, it felt like he did.

“I love you.”

You smiled, exhaling shakily. “Good.”

His laugh bubbled through his lips, causing you to take another breath.

“I’ll see you out there?”

“Can you just stay on the phone for another minute or so? I just need, like—”

You could hear him nod over the phone. “Anything you want.”

Somehow, you were back in that fucking elevator. Again.

But this time, it felt like a homecoming rather than a curse you were trying to break.

When the doors opened, you saw your family leaving little presents on your desk—flowers, balloons, chocolate, even cupcakes from your favorite bakery. They were all so busy setting it up that they didn’t notice as you walked up behind them, peering over their shoulders.

“Looks good, guys.”

“You think—” Derek did a double take and clutched his chest. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

You laughed and smiled at him, dropping your bag onto your chair. “It looks wonderful. You guys didn’t have to do anything for me–”

“Actually, we did. How could we not? I mean! She’s home! She’s back solving crimes in sexy-looking outfits!” Garcia wrapped her arm around your shoulders, resting her head on yours.

“I love it, guys, thank you.”

JJ briskly walked past you all, giving you a brief smile, almost running up the stairs and into Hotch’s office.

“Well, looks like you’re getting thrown right back into it.” Derek sighed.

Hotch came out of his office and smiled at you before nodding at the others. “Wheels up in forty, everyone. I’ll brief you all on the plane.”

“Good.”

“Just breathe y/n. Okay? I’ll be the one at the end of the altar with the incredibly well-tailored suit and those flowers you like so much pinned to my chest.”

“You’re gonna cry.” You whispered jokingly, taking in a deeper breath than before. “I look so good in this dress. I actually was crying about it before I made Emily call you.”

“It’s like you’re trying to kill me.”

Derek knocked on your door, leaning his ear up against it, trying to hear what you were saying. He called out your name, and after about a minute, you told him it was unlocked.

“Can I come in?”

“If you want Derek, it is entirely up to you.”

He opened the door, tears welling up the second he saw you.

Hearing him enter, you faced him, smiling softly at him.

All Derek could do was take you in for a second, unable to really think of what he was about to tell you. This felt a bit ridiculous since he was there when you picked out the dress, but watching you now, ready to actually wear it for its intended purpose, was a whole different ball game.

“You look…..”

“Right.” You whispered, walking over and squeezing his hand. “I’m ready. Let’s do this thing before shit goes south.”

______________________________________________________________

“Y/n, You are the love of my life, and I could give you an eternal list of every single moment of my life where I felt nothing but complete and utter adoration for you. But then last week, you picked the movie you thought we should watch: a nineties rom-com, obviously, with big romantic gestures and a heroine who doesn’t need to be tamed. And those two inspired me to give you instead a list of the ten things I hate about you.”

Spencer had gotten a good look at you for the first time in a long time. He had already felt guilty about the fact that he had Maeve and that you had broken up. But what he had failed to realize was the same thing Derek had–You were someone entirely different, a ghost of yourself. The guilt was gnawing through his stomach when he told Hotch what was going on, and he had begged Hotch to let you sit out, trying to save you from this, but clearly, Spencer couldn’t do anything right for you anymore. He hadn’t been able to in a very long time. Hotch had cleared his throat while Spencer shook his head. “I-I tried Hotch, I really didn’t want…”

He just nodded at Spencer. “I know, Reid, but you must have known there was no way this conversation would go any better than that.”

Reid just nodded and stood up, going out into the bullpen, not missing the way all of their eyes snapped to him as Penelope dumped her broken mug into the trash.

Before anyone could say anything, Hotch walked out of his office and looked at everyone. “As you all could have guessed, Agent Y/L/N will not be joining us on this case. I expect everyone in the conference room in ten.” with that, Hotch walked past Reid and down the stairs toward where he had assumed you had run off to.

Reid just returned to his desk, sitting and staring at your now empty desk. Hotch had fulfilled your request, letting you move across the bullpen so you didn’t have to sit next to him anymore.

Some part of the thought that you couldn’t even look at him anymore caused his gut to lurch, causing his hearing to burst for a moment. Maybe this was too fucked up. Perhaps he had been wrong. He thought he was doing the right thing by letting you go, not weighing you down with all his own bullshit, but he realized he had failed to pay attention.

Spencer thought long and hard, trying to piece together everything he had thought about in the past couple of months when it came to you, and that’s when he realized it was every day. He thought about you every day.

But he had ignored you. He had failed to notice as you crumbled to nothing in front of him.

“Number ten is that I hate the way you fold laundry. It’s incredible how you manage to fold every single item in a completely different manner. It baffles me. One of the great mysteries in this world that we might never have the answer to.”

“So you two spoke?”

You held up your finger as you finished the prosecco in your glass. Once you finished, casually, you picked up the bottle and poured yourself a second glass, only beginning to speak when the glass had been filled to your liking.

“He came over to my apartment, Derek. I had already opened the door, and what was I going to say—”

“How about no?”

“It’s rude to interrupt Derek Morgan.” Penelope elbowed him and took a sip from her own glass. “But he’s right, Y/n. You could have said no and slammed the door in his face.”

“But that’s not who I am. You know I’m a sucker for closure. You know I wanted to talk to him anyway. I just wasn’t expecting the discussion that ended up happening….”

Derek raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Do tell Princess.”

You shrugged and took another sip. “We talked about Maeve.”

The looks you received were exactly what you had expected, only because it was how you felt about the conversation.

“Number nine. I hate how you pick out what we will watch each week. You just skim through every single title on every platform until the one with the right ‘energy’ calls out to you. And they’re never the same. You manage to match a film to the night perfectly, and I hate how well you can pinpoint that about me.

“Eight. I hate the way you drive. You manage to be the safest and most dangerous person on the road. There’s nothing more to that one. You terrify me.”

“I cannot believe you, Spencer Reid. You have the audacity to come to my house, lose at chess, and then accuse me of being the reason our relationship ended!?”

“That’s not what I said.” His voice was desperate. “I’m not blaming anyone but myself, okay? I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I just—You were so–”

“I was so what, Spencer. What about me was just soooo fucking terrifying to you that you decided you didn’t want to propose to me anymore.”

“That’s not fair.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re fucked in the head if you think the part that isn’t fair is me calling you out on that.”

Spencer paced around, running his hands through his hair. He was going to wear a path in your carpet the way he was pacing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.

“Seven. I hate how captivating you are. Whenever you tell a story, there’s no use in getting any work done because all anyone can do is wait for the story to be finished. If there’s no ending–I’ve watched Morgan sulk at his desk until you returned from a meeting because you were running late and didn’t wrap up the end of the story for him. Something about the way you speak, the way you capture people’s attention, is one of the most dangerous weapons I’ve ever seen on the planet.

“I hate—oh, sorry–Number six.” He smiled at you and squeezed your head. You were shaking slightly as you rapidly blinked away tears, trying to inhale and exhale through your nose. It wasn’t working. Every word this man said made you one second closer to jumping onto him and kissing him senseless. “I hate how smart you are. It’s ridiculous. You can argue so beautifully and eloquently that it makes anyone arguing against you look like a fucking idiot. You speak four fucking languages, making you invincible and even more aggravating since you’ve decided to start learning a fifth one. You have started to beat me every other game in chess, which is actually humiliating for me, and I can’t figure out how you’re doing it. You read everything under the sun and still manage to have a life, friends, and family. I don’t know anyone in the world who could compare to your intellect.”

“Five. I hate how you steal my chocolate-covered pretzels. I bought you a whole fucking cabinet’s worth, and somehow, mine still got eaten.”

You watched him give you a bit of a stink eye for that one, causing you to kiss his hand lightly. “My apologies.”

“You don’t mean it, and you know it.” He grumbled, flipping his page so that he could keep reading.

“I hate how beautiful you are. It’s distracting. I can’t work near you anymore because all I want to do is daydream about you. I want to watch you smile for the rest of my life if I can help it.”

“Three. I hate how much you care. It terrifies me how much you care about other people. I have seen you at your best and your worst moments.” You squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I have seen the worst outcomes of cases we could ever imagine, or the best, and yet you put the same amount of effort and care into all of them. It’s infuriating because you put your life on the line constantly to be able to give people a chance, whether that be to save them from others or to save them from themselves. You are the most considerate person in the world, even to those who might not deserve it.”

This was not a good case.

It was never a ‘good case,’ but this one just sucked the absolute life out of you. You had been back for only a month, and it was going too well. You were on top of your game. You were better than ever—but you knew the other shoe would drop.

And it did.

You were never a big fan of getting shot at, but you would prefer that rather than have to escape a burning building. It was one of your biggest fears, and here it was, being realized.

You had managed to crawl down to the first floor before everything started to go black. He had sealed the windows. He had sprinkled broken glass along the stairs, causing you to rip open your legs and hands as you slid down the stairs. The more significant shards of glass shredding the back of your pants. It was fucking painful. But you had managed to make it to the kitchen.

That’s when you saw the firefighters bursting through doors, trying to contain the fire surrounding you. You could feel the burn on your skin as they pulled you out of the building, blood dripping down your legs and hands.

You must have been one fucked up sight for Hotch to drop everything he was doing and run over to you. But you wished he didn’t because the building behind you exploded. The flames must have hit the gas line, and the house came crashing down.

You were thrown back from the force, causing you to land on your back. Nothing was broken, nothing was sprained, but adding road rash and hearing loss to your ever-growing list of injuries was not fun.

Spencer and Hotch, who were shoved to the ground by the blast, scrambled over to you, where you were just lying on the ground, facing the sky, trying to breathe.

Maybe they were yelling your name or just trying to speak to you, but your head buzzed with the remnants of the explosion.

You watched as the sky above you filled with smoke and flickered with red hues. At some point, you saw Spencer come into your line of view. He was definitely mouthing your name.

Just then, like a wave crashing over you again, your hearing came back. Overwhelming could barely describe the feeling of shock running through your body. Your eyes widened as tears sprung to your eyes, your lungs gasping for air, and your mind flooded with adrenaline, with panic.

“Y/N. Hey. Listen to me. Hey.” Hotch had been trying to get you to sit up. He was going through his own internal panic attack—this scene was a little too close to NYC, to Kate.

Ambulance sirens blared, and you could hear a beam crash down and spur on the fire—” It hurts. So. Bad.” You finally managed to whisper, still gasping for air.

Reid wasn’t sure you were even registering that you were sobbing and that tears were racing down your cheeks.

“Can you sit up?”

“My hands.” You mumbled. “There-there was glass…so much…”

You flinched as Hotch yelled for a gurney.

“I need you to try and sit up, okay?” Spencer was next to you. He was on his hands and knees, slowly trying to gain your attention. There is a gentle touch on the arm here and a brush of your hair out of your eyes. He was just trying to give you peace, a breath amid everything going on.

“Spence.” You whined, flexing your hand, wincing when a tiny shard of glass shifted in your palm, causing even more pain.

“I know.” He said to you, gently taking your hand and wincing as he saw the microscopic shards scattered across your palm. “I need you to sit up for me.”

“Please don’t make me get up, Spence.” You whispered.

Hotch had moved away from the both of you, trying to clear a path so two EMTs could reach you.

“Once you sit up, I promise you won’t have to do anything else.”

You closed your eyes and let out a cry. It felt so relieving to just let whatever tension you had left in your body. But the thought of not doing anything sounded even better, so you slowly made your way to a sitting position, leaning against Spencer’s chest as he kissed your head and carefully ran his hand up and down your arm.

Spencer’s entire body relaxed into yours. He had never been more grateful that you could make it out of that building before…he didn’t want to think about what else would have happened. The two of you had just started talking again. You were hanging out. He would have never forgiven himself if he left things the way they were.

It felt wrong for him to be grateful at how much you got hurt because all of your limbs were still intact, and you were still conscious, still breathing. But he was thankful as he held you on the pavement, in the middle of the road, while everyone ran around you both.

You, on the other hand, were not happy to be sitting up. The adrenaline started to wear off, and your body was no longer buzzing. “Spence.” You whispered to him, trying to get his attention. You were nauseous, and the world was spinning. Everything was phasing in, and out of clarity, you could actually feel the earth rotating.

“Spence.” This time, it was said with more urgency. And it caught his attention. “I need to lie back down.”

“You can’t—”

“I’m gonna vomit.”

“Shit shit shit, okay, nausea is usually a sign of a concussion, a really bad one, most likely in the red zone—”

“Spencer, please.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and slumping against him, trying your best to hold down whatever you felt slowly creeping up your throat.

“I can’t let you lay back down.” He mumbled, turning you in his arms, prepping for whatever would come out.

Luckily for both of you, the two EMTs and Hotch had made it back over, bucket in hand, because Hotch had told them you most likely had a concussion. And god bless that stupid bucket because it managed to save some of your dignity by not throwing up all over the street. The EMTs had checked you out, flashing that stupid fucking light in your eyes, looking at your hands and doing their best to pull out some of the larger chunks of glass, and then helping to get you onto a gurney, and eventually into an ambulance to be shipped off to the nearest hospital.

Spencer was the only person you would allow to come with you in the ambulance.

“Two. I hate how well you know me and can read me like an open book. I have never met someone who knew me in the same way you could. You know things about me before I could even fathom the possibilities. You have been there for me in some of the darkest times of my life, and I would not have survived if it wasn’t for you. You picked me off the ground countless times, more than I could ever repay you for.”

“And last but not least. I hate how I can’t live without you. I hate that if you’re not in the same room as me, I can’t breathe. I hate how you manage to make my days filled with comfort, support, and love when sometimes I don’t deserve it. I hate when you go away to conferences, and I have to wake up to an empty bed, and the only thing that motivates me is the fact that I know you’ll text me as soon as you’re awake. I hate how you are the last person I want to see at night before I go to sleep. And I hate that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

You were fully crying, tears tracking down your cheeks, as you squeezed his hand tightly. You laughed slightly, trying to wipe away one of the stray tears, but he beat you to it, using his thumb to wipe away your tears gently.

“Did you just quote When Harry Met Sally at me?”

He smiled cheekily, handing the paper back to Derek, who put it in his pocket. “What else would I be able to quote at you? It was playing that night…”

You shook your head, unable to stop the smile across your face. You heard him whisper, “I love you,” but it still made your heart ache.

“Okay, Doctor Reid. Work your magic.”

“You make it sound like I’m performing a spell or something. I’m literally just fixing your computer.”

You snorted and shrugged. “Isn’t it you who always said that physics and magic are basically the same thing.”

“Okay, yes, but—”

“And computer science is a science, right?”

Spencer just rolled his eyes, realizing he would not win this argument, and began to futz with your desktop.

It had crashed on you while you were in the middle of a report. At home. In your pajamas.

This was a practice that was familiar to Spencer. Whenever you were working on something that was not classified or very sensitive information, you had gotten special clearance from Hotch to bring it home. So Spencer has seen you write up preliminary profiles for cases around the country in nothing but your pajamas many times.

Except he hasn’t seen you in just pajama shorts and a tank top since, well.

He was supposed to be focusing on the desktop, and that is what he is going to do.

“I really appreciate you coming over at like 10 pm, Spence. I really do. I’m sure you were busy, so I really appreciate it.”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “It was no trouble, really. Besides.” He turned back to the screen with a cheeky grin across his face. “I know how you get when something breaks.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you leaned against the kitchen counter. “Spencer. Are you…flirting with me…”

His face turned slightly red as he quickly faced the computer screen again. “And so what if I am,” he mumbled, focusing on the task at hand. He wasn’t sure how you managed to freeze your computer this badly, but he was determined to work it out.

You shrugged and checked your phone, looking at the text from Emily that you had chosen to ignore. Maybe she told you not to ask Spencer over. Maybe she had warned against moving too quickly with anything.

But you were a grown adult, you could make your own choices. You could—

“It’s, uh, it’s all fixed for you.” Spencer had stood up and was nervously fiddling with his hands. He hasn’t been like this towards you since you had both started dating over seven years ago.

You bit your lip and casually turned your phone on DnD.

“Thanks, Spence. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, doing his best to stop eying you up and down.

The two of you stood there, unsure of how to continue on with one another.

The tension was thick, almost like a humidity in the air that covered your skin and ruined your hair, just by stepping into it.

Spencer eventually broke eye contact and wiped his hands on his pants. “Well, I’m going to uh…Have a good night.” He quickly grabbed his bag from the counter and shut the door behind him.

Your hands dragged down your face as you sighed and shook your head. Maybe it was for the best that you two just stayed friends. Maybe it was for the best that you two never were in a relationship again. You remembered what happened last time. Maybe you should just finish the report and go to bed. Or maybe you should run after him. It wouldn’t be that embarrassing, considering he was staring back at you, right?

Who said you didn’t deserve to make a bad decision every now and again.

You grabbed your keys and slid on your slippers, not even bothering to grab a coat. You opened the door and came face to face with an out-of-breath Spencer just about to knock on your door. You took one look at each other.

And that’s when he reached down and brought your lips to his.

Emily reached over and gently handed you your vows.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” You whispered, causing everyone around you to laugh softly at you, desperately trying to stop crying.

“I said I was going to try not to cry during his, and that obviously was not the case.” You slowly exhaled your lips, taking his hand and smiling up at him.

“Hey.” You whispered, causing him to whisper it back to you. “So–um. I wrote my vows a long time ago. Like, a while back. And I was looking for them and almost couldn’t find them. But I remembered that I had written them in that really small brown, leather journal thing that you got me for one of my birthdays that I kept losing because I always put it down and never remembered where.”

The small, collected group laughed together, watching you turn the page in that small brown leather journal.

“I didn’t know where I wanted to start when writing my vows. I knew how I wanted it to end, though. I’ve always known how I wanted my life to end and everything to go. So that’s what I did. I started at my endgame and worked my way backward. But shit happens, and life never goes according to plan. Never.”

He squeezed your hand.

Those weeks after were fucking brutal for you.

Relaxing was something you were never fantastic at, so having to take two weeks off to recover from your concussion, burns, cuts, and bruises was excruciating.

Maybe it would have been worse if a certain someone wasn’t basically living in your apartment with you, doing anything and everything to be there for you.

You woke up to freshly brewed coffee, sometimes breakfast if he wasn’t away on a case. Sometimes, he’d be home in time to make you both dinner. It felt oddly domestic for you, reminding you of before Maeve, before everything that had gone down over the phone.

Once the two weeks were over, he might have visited to check up on you. There would be nights where he would stay over just in case your head or back started to hurt again. It took more convincing for Spencer to let you go back to work than it did for your actual neurologist.

“Need I remind you I’m a doctor too, Spencer. I’m going back to work on Monday, meaning two over one, majority rules.”

Spencer scoffed and crossed his arms. “The lights will cause headaches, and staring at screens and files will only add to that. It’s a bad idea, y/n. Especially if we have to go somewhere, traveling across the country in a plane. You might as well knock yourself out because the air pressure would kill your head and ear drums.”

“Always the one for dramatics, aren’t we.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m not being dramatic. I just care about your well-being, apparently more than you do—”

“Spence.”

“What.”

You kissed him softly. Just to shut him up. There were no ulterior motives. None.

He hummed, hands sliding around your waist, keeping you close to him as you broke the kiss.

That was another development you were keeping under wraps. The two of you might have decided to give it another shot. It had been over a month since you rejoined the BAU, and even before you got severely injured, Spencer had been doing everything he could to apologize. Whether that be his apologies or through his actions, he was stepping up.

But both of you had yet to outright tell the others. Emily knew something was going on, especially when you showed up to work in the same outfit two days in a row, but she had assumed you had seen someone else, not your ex.

You didn’t mind, though, when he took such good care of you when he bought you fresh flowers every week, when he kissed you past the point of breathing when he would—

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer whispered, interrupting whatever spiral you had started.

“What book I should read next.”

“Liar.” He squeezed your sides, laughing softly and kissing you again.

“There’s not much I can say about how life doesn’t go as planned since everyone here with us understands and knows how quickly life changes. But I realized that I need to have you by my side regardless of how it changes. I don’t want to be back in a place where I’m not with you because it just didn’t make any sense.”

“My vows are short because I would never make it through them if they were any longer.”

This caused another ripple of laughter throughout your friends, giving your fiancé a moment to wipe away another stray tear on your cheek.

“All of this to say.” You cleared your throat, but it didn’t stop the tears from clouding your vision. “Shit. Give me a second.”

Emily gave you a tissue, which you used to wipe under your eyes. You shook your hands slightly, trying to calm yourself down and shake out the rest of the emotions so that you could at least finish saying your vows.

“Having begun to love you, I love you forever—in all changes, in all disgraces, because you are yourself.”

Spencer beamed joyfully, realizing you followed his same path, quoting something you knew the other loved.

And suddenly, the stars aligned. A soft breeze picked up, and the world was quiet.

Everything was alright. Everything was okay.

And for that beautiful, brief moment, you had everything you could have ever asked for, and there was nothing you would have changed, nothing in the whole world that was worth the love and happiness you felt in this moment, beaming at Spencer as you both said

I do.

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.” - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @gubzgirl @onlyspence @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @mynameisnotokay @kalulakunundrum @academiareid @lilsunshine1092 @brilliantreid @shqwqrma @cluelessteam @lockwoods-coat-and-reids-vests @hereforfun22-blog @yoursarahg @r-3dlips @lilrios-world @hereforfun22-blog @mega-kittyglitter-1

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lorcandidlucienwill · 5 months

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Who pulls the most bitches?

So I saw someone do something like this and I kind of wanted to do my own version with sjm characters. They get no bitches (besides that one girl who's a sucker for losers): Tamlin, Hunt, Ithan, Declan (only bc he's gay not for lack of game; he pulls ALL the men), Tarquin They get more than none but less bitches than you'd expect: Fenrys (bc he's with Maeve, poor boyo), Tharion (bc he's stuck with the river queen's daughter, oof), Aedion, Mor (because she has to hide her sexuality, rip) Now let's rank the remaining: Rhysand: for the supposedly most powerful fae guy to ever exist, he gets a surprisingly low amount of bitches. Perhaps it is due to his creepy evil reputation and the hatred for him within his own court: turns out a pretty face a male does NOT make. Even gold-diggers have standards! Cassian: I turned this over in my mind many times, but I realized Cassian pulls less bitches than Azriel after the line "I don't need to resort to poetry." He gets plenty of bitches because he's a bigass dude with muscles, but his shitty poetry is a turn-off to most eligible ladies. Azriel: he doesn't need to resort to poetry; he's a pretty boy with a cut body, but points have to be deducted for lack of game and pining over Mor for 500 years and being obsessed with having a mate (yuck). Dorian Havilliard: Come on, guys! He's a hot prince! Of course, he gets all the bitches. He's a little immature but he grows out of it! I mean he pulled the fucking man-eater, for God's sake. Points deducted for falling for Celaena wayyyy too fast (and getting rejected) and for his healer girl getting decapitated (rip Sorscha). Rowan: we KNOW this guy gets aaaaaaaalllll the bitches. Come on, he's Rowan-rutting-Whitethorn! Points were deducted for the whole Lyria thing AND serving Maeve for so long. Lorcan Salvaterre: He gets even more bitches than Rowan because... "Battles, riches, females- Lorcan always won, at any cost." And it's even said Rowan often allowed him to win. So yeah, he pulls a lot of bitches and participates in crazy orgies with his homie Rowan. Points deducted for being Stockholmed by Maeve (poor Lolo). Ruhn Danaan: I mean we already know the man's got game (evidence: CC2 chapter 3 plus all ruhnlidia chapters). He's also a young (by Fae standards) prince who lives in a fucking frat-boy house. And that sad-boy thing he's got going on? Girls love that. Eat it up. All the bitches wanna sit on him to take away his sorrow. Points deducted for crushing on a lesbian (oops). Tristan Flynn: Man gets even more bitches than Ruhn because he's just hornier and he's obsessed with his hair. Also, did you see the fire sprites becoming his cheerleaders? King shit. Points deducted for failing to rizz up Ariadne. Eris Vanserra: Come on, he's an Autumn Court male. Plus he's a Vanserra! It's practically in his blood! Points deducted for being rejected by Mor and Nesta tho. Chaol Westfall: Man gets a shockingly high number of bitches despite being a human character who until Dorian became king had a pretty lowly position. I mean, there was a literal PRINCE and his cousin hanging out and the girls were all drooling over Chaol. When he had a disability (which unfortunately due to prejudices that exist, often make you "undesirable" in the eyes of many) and he rizzed all those women, including Yrene, harder than Kashin. EVERY. GIRL. CHOSE. CHAOL. OVER. A. LITERAL. PRINCE. Both in Adarlan AND the southern continent. You're telling me he doesn't have the rizz??? A half a point deducted for being too hung up over Celaena (I don't blame him but still). But still, he pulls sooooo many bitches. Lucien (Vanserra? Spell-Cleaver? Cunt-Server?): Come on. Is there anyone else fitting to be number 1???? Man's got EVERYTHING Chaol has, PLUS he's the son of a High Lord and he's got that Vanserra rizz. Fuck it, he wouldn't stop at bitches. He'll pull every mfer to ever exist. If it breathes, it's into Lucien Vanserra. He is THAT guy.

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moonlightazriel · 17 days

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Chapter 9: Two witches go to a war camp… /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: After a much needed talk with Elain, Nesta takes Y/N to Windhaven.

Word Count: 2,2K

Warnings: None for this part.

Notes:

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

“I'm sorry if I made everything weird between you and her.” Y/N started, remembering the way Elain tried to stop him from going with her.

“She confuses me.” Lucien sighed, sipping on the liquor she had found hidden in a cabinet. “She’s with him, but whenever she sees me trying to move on, she finally remembers she’s my mate and acts with jealousy towards me.”

“Love sucks.” She let out a humourless laugh.

“After everything with Jessminda, I just wish to be happy.” Sadness overtook his features, he had shared about his past lover that day at the city, and Y/N felt her heart crack a bit.

“You will be.” She promised him.

Y/N woke up that day on her bed, her talk with Lucien still fresh in her mind, and as she jumped out of the bed, showered and got dressed, she knew what she would do that day.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Meraxes landed near the garden, on an empty part of the house Rhys and Feyre lived, she already had to talk to them, talking to Elain in the process was going to be perfect.

She strolled towards the hallways, the sound of her boots echoing around the house as she reached the office Rhysand had indicated to them last night as they got back from Hewn City.

She knocked, waiting for them to allow her in. Feyre opened the door with a gentle smile, welcoming her in. The office had dark wooden furniture and grey walls, a portrait of Feyre sat beautifully behind the desk, like she was the force that guided Rhysand even when she wasn’t there in person.

“Good morning.” He said, cradling his sleeping son against his chest.

“Good morning! Thank you for receiving me.” She cleared her throat. “I’m here to ask for permission to leave with Lucien and explore Koschei’s home.” The two shared a look like they were talking in each other’s mind. Like Maeve did.

“You are free in this court, but we appreciate your consideration.” Feyre spoke, hands cupping his shoulders. “We’re going to ask for Azriel to join you two, we also need to deal with Koschei and he can share what he already knows with you.”

Being stuck with Azriel and Lucien, when the two couldn’t stand being in the same room with each other for more than 5 minutes? Great, just fucking great.

“Do you think this will help?” Rhys inquired, his violet eyes piercing her into her seat.

“I’m willing to try anything at this point.” She shifted on her seat, her scar throbbing with anxiety.

“Mor found this.” He handed her a book, covered in a dark leathery material, looking like a diary. “She looked around her father’s office and this was the only thing that made sense.”

Y/N grabbed the book, flipping through the pages, drawings and an ancient alphabet she knew very well, Wyrd marks. She closed the book quickly, wanting to read it just as fast.

“This is going to be very useful.” She smiled at them. “May I take it with me during the trip?” Feyre nodded.

“Please do.” She waved her hand and Y/N shoved the diary in between her leathers. She groaned as she saw the state of her clothes that morning, the ripped fabric making her angry.

“We also will have some incursions of our own. Nesta and Cassian fly today to the war camps to see what they can discover . You may want to find her, she wants you to join them.” Rhys announced. “We’re in touch with the other High Lords, Koschei is a threat we all have in common, so it gives us the perfect excuse to roam around their libraries. Except Autumn of course.”

“Lucien asked his brother for help.” She blurted. “Eris says he will try his best.” Rhysand and Feyre shared a surprised look.

“Well, that is nice of him. Thank you.” Feyre spoke.

“Thank you for all your efforts.” She thanked them, getting up. “I need to get going so I can do everything that I need to do before travelling.” Feyre nodded.

“Of course, go ahead. But just be careful.” The female begged and Y/N nodded.

“I’ll try my best.” She said with a confident gleam in her eyes, exiting the office.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She leaned in the doorway, Elain was kneeled on the ground, hands digging in the soil as she planted another pink flower in that already full and beautiful garden.

Elain stiffed, the black wyvern approaching the garden, its huge snot bumping against her perfect flowers, Meraxes sniffled, sitting on its back paws as his head rolled to the sides, happily appreciating the smell.

“Oh, do you like flowers?” She asked, looking curiously at the creature, Meraxes took a deep breath and his big grin appeared in approval.

“He does.” Y/N replied from behind her, prompting Elain to quickly whip her head in her direction, hurt and sadness filled her brown eyes as she made eye contact with her.

“What do you want? Tell me how wonderful your night with Lucien was!?” Elain got up, removing the gloves from her hands and walking towards Y/N, standing in front of her.

“I did have a wonderful night with him.” Elain scoffed but her eyes filled with tears. “Because Lucien is an amazing, caring friend. I came here to tell you that nothing happened yesterday, at least not what you think.”

“You two didn’t sneak out to be alone?” Elain’s breath hitched.

“We did, but I just needed to get away from that crowd, it reminded me of bad times, he was just helping me to get back in control of my emotions.” Elain watched her silently. “Take care of him, please, love him how he deserves to be loved. Lucien has a gentle yet fragile heart, handle with care.”

“I thought about what you told me.” She started. “Azriel and I are no longer together, and now it’s my turn to ask you to love him how he deserves, Azriel has been searching for love for so long, and I wasn’t what he needed, but I have a suspicion that you might be, so please, be careful and patient with him, he deserves it.”

Her words left her astonished for a few minutes, just blinking towards the female like a confused kid. Did Azriel say anything about dreaming about her? Did he feel the same increase in his heartbeat that she did whenever he looked at her? Did he love her like she loved him?

“Thank you Elain. And after everything ends and if I’m still here, would you teach me gardening?” Elain smiled.

“I would love to.” She nodded her head, smiling back at Elain before she headed towards Meraxes, she had to find Nesta.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You can’t go like this.” Nesta stomped her foot down, looking at the damaged clothing Y/N was wearing. “You would be better in Illyrian leathers, they’re amazing.”

“And where do we get them?” She asked, to which Morrigan happily chimed in.

“In the best shop of all Illyria.” She had a big smile. “My mate’s shop.”

Y/N sat atop Meraxes, Morrigan pressed against her as the two made their way towards Emerie’s shop. Before Y/N met Cassian and Nesta at the camp.

Mor rambled about how she and Emerie met, the bond snapping for them and how they had busy life’s but always made time for each other, and in every opportunity she would fly to be with her lover.

The wyvern waited outside the town, and they walked towards the tiny shop in the middle of the town. Thousands of winged males and females walked there, minding their own business and going on with their lives.

The heavy door scratched against the floor as Mor pushed it open, revealing a well lit inside with clothes hanging around and a leathery smell. Behind the counter the female from that training day stood, her hair was braided and she was reading a book.

“Do you have any leathers available?” Mor said in a slow and sensual tone, Emerie lifted her eyes, her expression going from serious to pure delight as she saw her mate standing in her store.

“For you? I have everything.” She crossed the store in two quick steps, embracing Morrigan and pulling her in for a kiss. “I missed you.”

“Me too baby, me too.” The female turned to Y/N. “Emerie this is Y/N, Y/N this is Emerie.” Y/N shook her extended hand.

“It’s nice to see you again.” She spoke and the female nodded in agreement.

“She’s the female that disarmed Azriel, that I told you about.” She told her mate, who looked at them confused.

“Oh okay.” Morrigan laughed. “Makes sense.”

The blonde then started to talk about how Y/N could use some new clothes and Nesta had sent her there. It took exactly twenty minutes for her to get in full Illyrian attire, very tight on her body but not in a restricting way. And four more pairs ready to take home with her.

She had thanked them, leaving the two alone. Walking towards Meraxes, the clothes felt okay, not that different from what she was used to. She clicked her jaw and exposed her teeth, Godslayer behind her back. She mounted the wyvern and headed towards the camp where she was supposed to meet Nesta.

Devlon kept staring at her with annoyance, he hated having Nesta around, a witch as he claimed she was. The female’s gaze turned to the sky a few times, waiting for the winged shadow that would make them tremble in fear.

With a loud roar, she saw it. The wyvern descending from the skies, his powerful wings carrying the winds in them. Devlon turned to the commotion, cursing loudly as he spotted Meraxes landing and his rider dismounting, sliding down his leg and landing on the ground with ease.

“Who the hell is that?” He demanded to know, turning to the General that didn’t even try to suppress the smirk at the male’s terrified gaze.

“Our guest for today.” He announced. “Welcome to Illyria, Lady Blackbeak.” Y/N bowed her head to Cassian, not even looking at the static male beside him.

“Lord Cassian, thank you for having me. Lady Nesta.” She turned her body to the female.

“What are you?” The male spat, and she turned those deep blue eyes in his direction, her claws scratching her chin as she grinned, the sun shining on the iron, giving the metallic smile a creep touch.

“I’m a witch, what else would I be?” She spoke in a condescending tone, like it was obvious what her true nature was.

“First you bring her.” His crooked finger pointed at Nesta, the female scoffed. “And then another one? You curse our land. You two are going to be our doom.” He pointed to the females, Nesta had walked to Y/N’s side and the two smiled at him sweetly.

“I’m kinda busy to be anyone’s doom.” Nesta sarcastically remarked.

“Oh yeah, me too.” Y/N shrugged. “Maybe next year.” She winked at the male.

Devlon was seething with anger, their mere presence was an affront to them and their traditions, Cassian as an Illyrian should know. But it looked like he and the two females didn’t give a shit about it.

“What do you want?” He sighed deeply.

“Your oldest scriptures.” Cassian spoke and the male rolled his eyes before giving in.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“What is this?” Y/N pointed to the drawing of a monolith, the stone was sculpted with square edges with a slit on top. Like a keyhole.

“This is the monolith atop Ramiel, it’s where you have to reach in order to finish the Blood Rite.” Cassian spoke, giving her a brief introduction of what the Blood Rite was.

“And when you finish it just teleports you back?” She inquired.

“Basically.” He shrugged, not knowing where she wanted to go with it.

“Ramiel, here says it’s a sacred mountain, very powerful.” Both Cassian and Nesta nodded. “Powerful enough to open a gate?”

“What?” Cassian asked and in a second the two stood behind her.

“The Valgs used wyrd keys to travel, they inserted them in wyrd gates to open portals to other worlds. If the drawing is accurate..” She pointed to the marks adorning the monolith. “These are wyrd marks and this..” She pointed to the top part of the monolith, towards the slith. “Is a keyhole for a wyrd key.”

“How do we know that you’re truly correct?” Nesta inquired.

“I would have to see it with my own eyes.” She groaned, if they didn’t wanted her there, there’s no fucking way they would allow her at Ramiel.

“Rhys can show you.” Cassian spoke and she looked at him. “We have to go back to Velaris.”

The three rushed outside, thanking Devlon for the scriptures and Y/N promised to stay away for a while, making the male growl at her. They stood in front of Meraxes.

“You two go, I’ll meet you there.” Cassian urged and they nodded, Y/N climbed towards the saddle and Cassian dropped Nesta behind her, securing both in place, they flew, this could finally be a step towards the right direction.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2

@roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle

@glitterypirateduck @zeroangelo13 @sekiro1310 @nelapeach14 @annamariereads16

@just-here-reading @celestialend @donttellthecats @scatteredstardustt @snoopyspace

@asterinblacksword @tsumudoll @georginat12 @skyjasper @anuttellaa

@willowpains @quinzzelx @amysangel @fightmedraco @puttyly

@lees-chaotic-brain @thisblogisaboutabook @esposadomd @stained-glass-eyes0708 @brujitafantomatico

@a-cup-of-nightshade @faridathefairy @bubybubsters

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #worlds apart fic

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a-frog-with-a-laptop · 4 months

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Things I wish to happen in House of Flame and Shadow

Due to CC3 coming out at the end of the month and me having the book on preorder since around November. Here are some wishes and dislikes for the next book. As always spoilers are incoming.

Many people don't want Aelin to come back but honestly, I want her back to show the high lords she is better than them and to have Helion and everyone else simping at their feet because they are so damn hot.

I want Aelin to have her powers back. This is not negotiable. Micah opened the gates = Aelin got her powers back.

Or she sees an Asteri with her powers and rips them to shreds. Whatever works.

There will be no Aelin/Fenrys and Maeve problems happening with Hunt/Ruhn/Lydia and the Asteri.

In fact, they will live happily ever after because Bryce will have already grabbed what she needed and come back to Lunathion and saved them all within 5 days. The rest of the book is everyone living happily in peace.

Someone slaps Rhysand.

Someone slaps the inner circle.

Aelin slaps people for being idiots.

The prison is actually the Dusk Court and that's where the dead people go, and Danika, Connor, Sam and Gavriel are all still alive. (I can explain).

Azriel goes to therapy.

Elain and Lucien get together.

Lorin (Ruhn's Mother) is Rhysand's sister and she helps Ruhn find Bryce and then when Ruhn and Bryce reunite with each other she sees Rhysand. (I can also explain).

The Multiverse is saved by girl power and all the next books coming out afterwards are just the girls being better than the men.

I fall into a bright portal and end up in their multiverse like Amren did.

I will probably add more as time passes but here we go.

#acotar #cresent city #tog #house of flame and shadow #azriel #cassian #rhysand #throne of glass #aelin #hoeab #hofas #bryce quinlan #hunt athalar #lidia cervos #azriel x reader #azriel belongs in therapy

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emilystheories · 1 year

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Maeve is Theia, the original Starborn Queen.

This theory contains spoilers for ACOTAR, Crescent City, and Throne of Glass!

As discovered in CC2, Ruhn and Rhys look identical. If they are not reincarnations of each other (still a plausible theory), then they must share a common ancestor. As most people have already deduced, logically, this must be Queen Theia; the first Starborn Queen, and ruler of the Dusk Court.

It then begs the question; "well, who actually was Queen Theia?"

I truly believe that there is only one candidate for this; Maeve, from the Throne of Glass (TOG) world. Here is a summation of the evidence for this:

Maeve, Ruhn and Rhys are the only 3 characters who have the "violet" or "violet blue" eyes. (Some argue that this is irrelevant as Maeve could change her form, but so could Erawan, and his gold eyes were passed onto Manon).

They all have the same "raven black hair."

Maeve, Ruhn and Rhys have the same darkness/shadow power.

They also all have the rare mind-speaking (or "daemati") power; an ability we first saw originate in Maeve and the other Valg Royalty.

Even Ruhn's name is (seemingly) derived from the Ruhnn mountains; the place in TOG where Maeve kept her handmaidens (and I suspect where Maeve walked between worlds).

Rhys is Lord of the Night Court; Ruhn is Agent Night; and Maeve is Queen of the Night.

With this many uncanny similarities between all three people, it makes the most sense that Ruhn and Rhys descended from Maeve, and that ultimately, Maeve is Queen Theia.

Queen of Glass.

I first suspected that Maeve may be Queen Theia when reading the Original Throne of Glass book, 'Queen of Glass,' that SJM published on a fan fiction website when she was younger.

This is how Maeve was originally described; does it not sound like a Starborn Queen (and also... exactly like Rhys)?

See also:

And:

Even the iconic way that Rhys's eyes are described (as having stars inside of them), is akin to how Maeve's eyes were originally described:

Additionally, in this original version of TOG, Maeve was engaged to Athril (which is similar to the events of the published TOG). However, Athril was said to be the first Fae to ever exist, and the greatest warrior in history.

When the Valg broke into their world, Athril forged Goldryn (and 3 other weapons). It was a death sword that was capable of slaying the Valg, and emitted a bright "white light." Sound familiar?

Athril then fought on the the peak of a mountain "archway," in an attempt to stop the Valg from entering his world. Although he was successful in destroying the Valg, he was killed - right on the mountaintop. After that, the cities were formed and a period of peace ensued.

This sounds EXACTLY like the story of Fionn that Rhys detailed in ACOSF (the mighty "fae warrior" who used Gwydion to overthrow the Daglan), AS WELL as Enalius (the first Illyrian who fought an "unknown enemy" on the top of Ramiel, and died there).

What's more, is that after Athril died, Maeve closed the gates and all rips between all worlds.

This is EXACTLY what Queen Theia did.

Proof in the published version.

Although 'Queen of Glass' is not officially canon, it gives us important clues regarding SJM's line of thinking.

However, there is still evidence in the actual TOG that points to Maeve as being Queen Theia. Most prominently, Maeve states that in her "original world," she came from a "small territory" where she was made Queen.

This sounds just like Theia and the Dusk Court.

It is also explicitly stated that this "small territory" that Maeve ruled was a place where powers were not given, but "simply born" (as if... starBORN?)

Further, Erawan also suggested that Yrene's power (which is almost 100% certainly the Starborn power) existed in his home world. Interestingly, he refers to wielders of this power as "death maidens," which sounds an awful lot like Nesta's power (and perhaps explains why she has the Starborn tattoo...)

Maeve in mythology.

In some strains of Celtic mythology (which appears to greatly influence the ACOTAR world), Queen Maeve was seen as the chief and deity of the Tuatha dé Danaan. Is it then any coincidence that Ruhn's (and possibly Rhys's) last name is Danaan?

In the same mythology, Maeve had 7 sons.

Just like the 7 High Lords.

Or the 7 Princes of Hel.

Or the 7 Asteri.

Maeve's power.

A pitfall of this theory is that Maeve's power (as far as we saw in TOG) did not manifest as light. But, are we sure we know the whole story of the Starborn? It is mentioned multiple times in CC2 that Bryce has not fully understood what her power is capable of. Similarly, Rigelus seems to hint that Bryce can walk between worlds simply because she is Starborn, and Maeve was a world-walker.

And perhaps more curiously, most people in the Starborn lineage (ie. the Avallen people) actually have shadow/darkness powers - just like Maeve did.

Aidas.

For this theory to be correct, it also suggests that Maeve was involved with Aidas.

Yet, as per another theory I have posted, I have already theorised that the Princes of Hel are actually the Valg.

Aidas is also a play on the name "Hades," and Hades is another name for Orcus - Maeve's original husband. This checks out.

Prythian.

As Theia and the Starborn likely originated from Prythian, there must also be evidence of Maeve's existence there.

It is then not surprising that many have already theorised that Maeve (and subsequently Queen Theia) is "the Mother" in the ACOTAR world.

Maeve is the only character we have seen with the ability to manipulate fate (and assign 'mating bonds' to people); just as the Mother does. Even in Celtic mythology, Maeve is another name for Mother.

Then, by extension, the Valg (or Princes of Hel) must also have existed in Prythian for this theory to be true. Interestingly, in the Crescent City audiobooks, all of the Princes of Hel have distinct British accents.

Is it then a mere coincidence that Prythian is in the shape of Britain, and similarly, Prythian is an ancient name for Britain?

(Map courtesy of Cassiopeia Reads).

Further:

Thanatos (a Prince of Hel) is also seen in the Hewn City.

The 7 layers of the library are reminiscent of the 7 layers of Hel (with many musing as to whether the 'cat like' presence is Aidas).

And, when Bryce says she is going to Hel, she lands in Prythian.

Timeline.

Alternatively, for Maeve to have been Queen Theia, she must have also existed 15,000 years ago. This suggests that Throne of Glass is a story that takes place in the PAST.

Linking with this idea, I theorise that the ACOTAR and TOG characters actually shared the same world (with the TOG characters existing many thousands of years ago). In fact, the notion of ACOTAR and TOG characters sharing the same world is something that Rigelus straight up suggests is true:

It also links in with Merrill's theory about the universe; that different worlds share the same space, but are separated by TIME.

This would explain why Rhys suggested that the old fae, 15,000 years ago, were more "elemental," and would imbue their swords with their magic.

Just as Aelin and the TOG fae did.

It would also explain why the Night Court and Terrasen (both in the North) are so similar.

Velaris is also exactly how Rowan described the future city that Aelin would rebuild.

What's more, is that Velaris smells like "lemon verbena," which is Aelin's scent.

This may all seem impossible if you believe the timelines to be concurrent - but, what if they're not?

What if, when Aelin fell through worlds, she fell forward in time? The Harp even mused that when it was last played, it transported the user through "TIME and space," and through the "eons."

ACOTAR last names.

If this is all true, perhaps it offers an explanation as to why the last names of most ACOTAR characters have been hidden. That the big reveal is that they all descend from TOG characters.

For example, the Winter Court would descend from the Whitethorns; with their wind/ice power, and signature white/silver hair.

The Spring Court (and Tamlin's lineage) would descend from Lysandra (with her shapeshifting abilities), and Aedion.

I mean, the resemblance is rather uncanny.

Even the Dawn Court, the place of healing, with their parallels to Yrene and Silba's descendants (even their book being called Tower of DAWN...).

Ultimately, the connections and possibilities are endless.

Yet, no matter what, I theorise that the person at the centre of everything, across all worlds, is Maeve.

Or, otherwise known as Queen Theia.

#sjm crossover #sjm multiverse #sjm theory #sjm spoilers #acotar theory #acotar #throne of glass #crescent city #crescent city theory #rhys acotar #ruhn danaan #aelin galathynius #nesta archeron

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6rookie-writer0110 · 2 months

Text

Don't take me now

Male Reader x Queen Maeve

Request - Could you do queen maeve x male reader

Your world fell apart and you are starting to feel angry. You found out that your girlfriend slept with Billy the Butcher.

“You are lying!” You yelled.

“Y/n, tell me why would I lie? She isn't even denying it, your girlfriend is not denying it. What would be my reason for ruining your relationship with Maeve” Homelander said.

He puts his arm around your shoulder, he is right she isn't denying it. It was supposed to be a team meeting but it went left.

“Why aren't you denying it?” You asked.

“Y/n… Y/n, I can explain… we- it was a weak moment -” Queen Maeve said.

Your hands turned into fists. Before the meeting, Homelander and Maeve had a private conversation. He believes that Maeve and Billy are planning something against him, she tells him there isn't anything going on but Homelander doesn't believe her.

“We are over!” You yelled.

“Y/n, let me explain. I'm sorry, please let me explain” Maeve said.

“Explain, what Maeve? You broke his heart, how dare you” Homelander said.

He keeps adding fire to the conversation and you believe him.

“I quit the team!” You yelled.

You started to walk away then Maeve grabbed your arm.

“Wait-” Maeve said.

“Let me go now!” You yelled.

She lets go of your arm, and before you leave you punch the wall extremely hard. Now, there is a huge hole in the wall and one of your abilities is super strength. You are still feeling angry and Maeve feels bad about what she did.

“Why did you tell him?!” Maeve yelled.

“He should have the right to know. Y/n is a nice guy and yeah he gets on my nerves but he should know” Homelander smiled.

“You are the worst!” Maeve said.

“I didn't cheat on him. Because of you, he left the team” Homelander said.

Maeve walked away and she was feeling terrible. You didn't know what to do at first, but you went to the woods alone. You went deep into the woods, and you started to punch a tree. Having super strength, you don't feel pain when you punch something hard.

You are letting out your frustration and you keep punching the tree. Your cell phone started to ring and it's Maeve. You don't answer her but there is a big rock next to you, and you kick the rock and it breaks into pieces. You are breathing hard and you break your phone by squeezing too hard.

When you first joined the team, that's where you met Maeve. At first, you and Maeve didn't work well because you would show off while saving people. But slowly, you and Maeve got to know each other and started to mess around then you and Maeve became serious. She told you about her history of dating Homelander. You never opened up to someone until you started dating her, and you thought she was the one.

Maeve is alone in her apartment. She tried calling and sending texts, but it didn't go through. She starts to think about what to do for your forgiveness. She hopes you will give her another chance. She has a picture of you two together saved in her phone, she stares at the picture and starts to cry.

✫ ✬ ✫ ✬

You still save people around the city, you don't help your old team. But it's hard to avoid Maeve because she is everywhere even on TV. You still haven't spoken to her since the breakup and she hasn't stopped trying to talk to you.

Today, you went to stop a money heist and the bad guys got away with a van. Also, Maeve arrived and you are not happy to see her.

“You don't have a choice to work together and stop them,” Maeve said.

You don't say anything and you go after the van. She starts to follow and you start to help citizens move out of the way. But Maeve stopped the van with her body then you ripped the doors open. You pull out the bad guys and throw them against the cars. The cops arrived and started to arrest them

“Y/n, wait. Please can we talk, please” Maeve pleads.

“Why should we talk?” You said.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you and I broke your trust. I will do anything to win back your trust, whatever it is I will do it” Maeve said.

“You hurt me and I had to find out from Homelander! You know I hate that guy but you didn't even try to tell me” You said.

You walk away and she goes after you.

“Please, Y/n. I don't want Billy or anyone else, you mean so much to me. You're the only man I want” Maeve said.

You walk away and you go home. She held back her tears and she left the crime scene.

——-

You are home eating dinner and watching a movie. You hear a knock at the door and you go to open it. You notice that your ex-girlfriend is drunk and you let her inside your apartment.

“Y/n, I'm happy to see you,” Maeve said.

“You are drunk. You shouldn't be here, Maeve” You said.

She moved closer to you and she put her hands on your cheeks.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/n. I-I fucked and I'm sorry but I don't want to be without you. I will do-” Maeve said.

She never said those words before then you sighed. She kissed you on the lips and you moved away. You take her to the bedroom and she sits on the bed then she starts to cry.

“Why are you crying?” You asked.

“Because you hate me and you will leave me forever. I never felt like this before about anyone and I fucked it up” Maeve cried.

“Stay the night. Go to sleep because you need it, Maeve” You said.

You help her take off her shoes and she lies down. You put a blanket on her and she won't let go of your hand.

“Please don't leave,” Maeve said in a low voice.

“I will be in the living room watching a movie. Go to sleep, you need to rest” You said.

“Okay,” Maeve said.

She lets go of your hand and you leave the room. She closed her eyes and went to sleep, you continued to watch the movie while eating.

The next day… Maeve wakes up with a bad headache. She looks around and recognizes it's your bedroom, but she doesn't remember how she got there. She gets out of bed and heads to the kitchen and you are making breakfast.

“How did I get here?” Maeve asked.

“I don't know. You just showed up drunk and crying and told me how you felt. I let you sleep in my room while I slept on the couch. There is coffee and food, you need it” You said.

“Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to come here unexpectedly,” Maeve said.

“We can be friends but I can't trust you right now,” You said.

“I don't want to pressure you into forgiving me when you are not ready,” Maeve said.

“Okay,” You said.

✫ ✬ ✫ ✬

You and Maeve are taking it slow just being friends. You haven't joined the team again and Maeve left the team also. While fighting bad guys, she saw you get stabbed with a metal pole through the stomach. She ran towards you and you are bleeding out fast.

“Pull it out! I need to heal before I bleed to death” You said.

“Hold still!” Maeve said.

She pulls out the metal pole and you start to scream. But your body is starting to heal, she grabbed you and rushed you to the hospital.

“You know, I have rapid healing,” You said.

“I know. But I always worry about you when you get hurt” Maeve said.

“Same,” You said.

The doctor and nurses are taking care of your wounds. She didn't leave your side and your body is still healing on the inside. She was going to say something but she kissed you on the lips, you kissed her back.

“Sorry, I just really wanted to kiss you, Y/n” Maeve said.

“It’s fine, Maeve. I can go home now” You said.

You put on your shirt.

“Yeah…” Maeve said in a low voice.

“Do you want to join me for dinner?” You asked.

“Do you mean it?” Maeve asked.

“Yes. Maybe a burger or pasta?” You said.

She smiled at you.

“I would like to join you for dinner,” Maeve said.

You and Maeve leave the hospital together. You take her to a restaurant and you want to take it slow with her.

“How about we go away together? We could start over and maybe bond over something new” Maeve said.

“I will think about it. We could take it slow” You said.

“I know. I won't give up winning back your trust” Maeve said.

After dinner, you invited her back to your apartment.

#Queen Maeve imagine #queen maeve x reader #Queen Maeve x male reader #the boys imagine #x male reader #male!reader #male reader #male reader imagine

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ae-neon · 4 months

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The character decimation of Hunt and Shahar in 4 chapters:

Chapter 6

The Asteri had created the angels to be their perfect soldiers and loyal servants. The angels, gifted with such power, had relished their role in the world.

Until Shahar, the Archangel they’d once called the Daystar. Until Hunt and the others who’d flown in Shahar’s elite 18th Legion.

Their rebellion had failed—only for the humans to begin their own forty years ago. A different cause, a different group and species of fighters, but the sentiment was essentially the same: the Republic was the enemy, the rigid hierarchies utter bullshit.

Chapter 9

For context: Sandriel (Amarantha dupe who owned Hunt as a slave after the failed rebellion) and Shahar (the leader of the failed rebellion) were twin sisters.

Sandriel had been Shahar’s prime target, and Hunt had been ordered to take her out. By whatever means necessary.

And Shahar had good reason to go after her sister. Their parents had both been Archangels, whose titles had passed to their daughters after an assassin had somehow managed to rip them to shreds.

He’d never forget Shahar’s theory: that Sandriel had killed their parents and framed the assassin.

...

There had never been proof to pin it on Sandriel, but Shahar believed it to her dying day.

Shahar, the Daystar, had rebelled against her fellow Archangels and the Asteri because of it. She’d wanted a world free of rigid hierarchies, yes—would have brought their rebellion right to the crystal palace of the Asteri if it had been successful.

But she’d also wanted to make her sister pay. So Hunt had been unleashed.

Chapter 10

Bryce glanced between them. “Is this your way of feeling out whether I killed him?”

Hunt smiled slightly. “You don’t seem too cut up that Tertian’s dead.”

Those amber eyes slid to him, annoyance lighting them.

He’d admit it: males would do a lot of fucked-up things for someone who looked like that.

He’d done precisely those sort of things for Shahar once. Now he bore the halo tattooed across his brow and the slave tattoo on his wrist because of it.

From freedom fighters to personal revenge to thinking with his dick I guess?? The implication is insane???

Like that is not why he rebelled 😭 he didn't kill people for Shahar because 'males would do xzy for hot females' !!!! They were all of them fighting for freedom????

Justice for Hunt and Shahar, I hope we get more about them but I doubt it will be anything meaningful

Like I want to believe it could be a complex concoction of all three but sjm's writing is so shallow and so consistently inconsistent that it's more likely she's just switching it up as she goes - ruining her characters that are already all just different flavours of the same people over and over and over again

I knew the cruel slave master who owned Hunt was a woman before it was even mentioned just because sjm always does that. Maeve with Rowan, and Amarantha with Rhysand, and Sandriel with Hunt.

Hunt is Cassian and Jurian thrown in a blender but so far less interesting than either of them

Bryce is Nesta if she had Celaena's personality, free of the baggage of modesty and able to skip over the messiest bits of trauma induced behaviour

Maybe SJM had to make her book series all part of the same universe so the constant "parallels" would be seen as intentional and not just symptomatic of laziness and regression in her work

#anti sjm #sjm critical #why ruin them like this #ccity hoeab #anti crescent city

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plasticfangtastic · 6 months

Text

Cozy Corner Kinktober Day 21-- (3 for me)

Behind the Scenes

A Homelander X Tek Knight fanfic, and Maeve is here.

Cozy corner kinktober– prompts: 18. Voyeurism, 10. orgasm denial, alt. Kink of choice– Exhibitionism.

A/N: Tek is gonna be OOC a bit bcuz honestly he’s only been in 1 ep and god knows what he's gonna be like in S4, so am inspiring him heavily on Bruce Wayne just to help myself here (used to write superbat fics back in HS), so sorry ‘bout that… I also set this in s2 so I don’t think Tek Knight’s tumor would be as advanced as it is in gen V so his hole fetish has been toned down, as I imagined it would’ve been something that slowly progressed over time… from kink to straight up fetish.

TW: masturbation, whatever the fuck is up with Tek Knight Hole fetish, angst, both men are being pervs, Bisexual Homelander, cum swap.

word count: 5.2K

Nothing beats an ex-lover when you need the strongest distraction after being utterly humiliated.

Edgar said no lies as he equated him to a manchild. His verbal lashing stabbing deeply into every insecurity, even threatening with terminating his contract had barely raised his blood pressure. He hadn’t cared… ignoring him and educating him in what he really was… what Vought really was and how meaningless he was in return… more than condescending… it hurt… it made him want to fly to his apartment and burn it down.

Instead he was at Tek-Knight’s afterparty, mingling with lesser A-listers and wondering what had gone wrong in his life that he had to smell the foot fungus on people’s mouths.

He turned to look around after escaping another pitch for his next film, Homelander couldn’t think of doing another film when he was feeling so terribly down, his sinuses burning as he tried to not drown himself in self-pity and crying… wanting so dearly to speak to his brother in private, just to hear his words of affirmation and encouragement.

His sole consolation came in the shape of other members of the Seven being subjected to the same meandering– not that they seem to be suffering too much.

Homelander eyes Maeve as some above average publicist chatted her up.

“Want me to get that for you?”

Homelander turned to spot a sharply dressed man, their shoulders rubbing at the same height as he offered a glass of bubbly.

“Sparkling White Grape Juice. Had to go all the way down to the kitchen to find a single bottle for you.”

“I don’t need it.” Homelander said just as sharply as this Italian suit made him look.

“Your tongue is looking 15% paler than usual. You’re parched.” he replied pushing the glass closer to him– "She's aroused.”

“You fucke–

“The publicist. She is being extra flirty… If I had to guess, she its already planning on how to get Maeve to fuck her in the parking lot.”

Robert turned to face him as a red glove delicately ripped the glass off his hand, he gave it a sniff to make sure it was clean, pleasantly surprised that was the case– even the juice smelled clean.

“I know you think I have a death wish but please…”

“Stop analyzing me.”

“So who ticked you off? Couldn’t be Maeve because you wouldn’t leave her alone if that was the case? Was it Matt Damon over there– he’s so snobby? Or was it in the office?” He stared at him trying not to chuckle, seeing that slight squeeze of his jaw– Is it that new cute little thing? Or a wHole other thing?

“Stormfront doesn’t bother me.”

“Bzzz.” He chuckles while taking a sip of his champagne– lie to all those cocsuckers but you can’t lie to me John.”

“Don’t call me that.” The glass made a slight crack but it kept its shape.

“Thought you reinstated my privileges after so long.” He looks down at the rim of his glass, happy he took a sip, and the mark his lips left behind– have some pity on me. I'm going through some health issues.”

Homelander turns to stare at him, undressing him from toe to head, looking at the density of his bones, his heart for any blockages, abnormal palpitation or growing tissue, his lungs for unusual growths then as his sight sets on Robert’s head he freezes, squinting at the mass.

“Going to try some medications. Just a scare but the Doctors aren't sure how they are gonna crack this titanium skull of mine– oh the irony of an indestructible body being the reason behind my demise.” He chuckles dryly hiding the slight tremor on his voice expertly.

“Chemo?”

“And go bald!? Jesus John… I know you’re mad at me but don’t pray for my downfall. You think people would see my movies if I became ugly?”

“I don’t think it matters, nobody who comes to see your crap has any taste… or eyes.”

That earned a smile on the other man, as he saw his tongue lick his lip, Homelander had finally found a distraction.

“This party it's so boring– want to play a game, Tek?”

Tek Knight blushes before a snide smile crossed his face, leaning even more closer towards Homelander knowing there was no reason to whisper into his ear, he just wanted to see the hairs of his neck raise as his silvery voice susurrated, Homelander couldn’t help but to choke back a moan, as the tip of his nose rubbed his ear.

“I’ll play anything you want, John. Just to help you smile again– so heads or tails?”

He was so smooth with his words, no wonder he was so popular, always around Homelander’s sphere when it came to those important women focused rankings.

Homelander knew the rules like the back of his hand, just as he knew how this man would never leave the house without that stupid casino chip on his breast pocket, if he knew Homelander was going to be in the vicinity… neither liked letting go.

It had been a torrid and sudden affair– the first time they’ve met had been like a smack across the face, Madelyn had wanted a team-up to help boost Homelander’s image, to have the world’s greatest detective and up and coming TV name staple teaming up with the world’s greatest superhero– It was the stuff of legends.

There was a maturity to Tek Knight that other supes didn’t have, the way he handled the masses was smooth, the way he poise himself and dressed was the definition of suave, he was born for the camera and it loved him, his little warming exercises even had a charm to them while Homelander still struggled to control his secret stutter… deep down he believed they wanted him to study the weaker supe, to copy him, to spend time with him and discover how to be better… he never expected to find himself drawn to him, Tek read him with ease learning how to handle him more than anybody else… he didn't use tricks to mess with him just used his gifts to learn how to speak to him, Tek hated deceith just as much as he did– quick to call bullshit even from Homelander.

He didn’t like the boy’s scout persona either… It was being able to speak freely to set the fire inside Homelander… There was this unspoken rule amongst all supes… Some clung to the belief they were too moral to fall trap to the factoid, while others just kept their mouth shut knowing the consequences would be too great if the lesser flock heard them… but here… Tek didn’t care, he had no desire to care.

Maybe that’s how Homelander found himself on top of him, maybe that’s why he didn’t flinch at the taste of bourbon on his lips, maybe that’s why that stupid green chip bothered him so much, he could’ve ripped it off his hand easily. Catch it mid-air as he flicked it. Turn around and ignore him for the rest of the party or simply leave.

But Tek knew he was too transfixed now watching the gold sparkle under the low light as the chip dropped back into his hand and hid under the heel of his palm.

“Heads.” Homelander said looking at the compound fracture at the base of his glass.

Robert grinned, lifting it to reveal the faceless side, Homelander groaned.

Rules were simple… 1 hour… don’t get caught… each round progressively gets more and more dangerous… they could not go where the others couldn’t see, no flying out of state or running underground, they had to stay where they could see or hear each other no matter what, or it was an instant disqualification.

“What’s the prize this time?” Homelander began to walk towards the balcony of this venue, not wanting any of the people who caught the coin flip to pry any further– or…?”

“The usual.” He smiles as he follows him.

Close enough that he doesn’t need super senses to smell him, to feel his presence rubbing against him, hithering closer as they close glass doors behind, he can’t never fully forget the feeling, just how Tek made him feel, the way he knew how to touch him and where to touch him, how delicate his touch was for how deadly it could be, he swallowed.

Looking down and thinking of jumping into the pool several floors below, anything to maybe get away from him… feeling like a deer caught in the crosshair of a pack of wolves.

Homelander watches the heads below, minding their business knowing the party was just a couple steps behind, crossing his hands in front of him as Tek takes out his phone, leaning closer until he’s resting his entire weight against him, his thumb presses play– it didn’t matter what his screen was playing, just a decoy… for any lucky passerby to simply see two men hanging out having a laugh at some stupid video.

“Want to play for 1 hour, this time?” Tek said softly, hiding his excitement.

“Jesus, you think my time it’s worth pennies?”

“It's my party.” he laughed lightly.

“Fine. You're so gonna regret this when it’s my turn.” That was the childish glee that Tek liked so much… this softer and playful side that only he could be privileged to.

It really should’ve never happened, the mission was over and the room was covered in soot and guts, watching each other heave, sharing few words, staring at each other for too long, jumping throats before the bodies grew cold. They had no idea why… not after… only that he liked him… he liked John… he liked knowing this secret half that so few could be privy to, it was a rush to be the bearer of such secrets, to see that soft look on his face of bliss as they held each other's arms… but they could’ve never been together, even if Tek Knight’s demographic could’ve been more forgiving… nobody would allowed them to be together… so it was nothing but a fantasy– nothing but a dream within a dream.

“It’s not fun if you make it easy.”

Homelander sighs and lowered his zipper, hearing the sound of his facial muscles move as Tek looked down.

Homelander stroke the limp member slightly, getting tutted by his friend, he groaned and stroked harder, looking at the monkeys beneath still unaware of what he was doing, low enough to make sense of what they could see, his blood pressure increase knowing how bad it would be, how bad it would fucking destroy him if they caught him stroking his cock next to a man.

Tek made the game harder, sliding his arm across Homelander’s shoulders, knowing his hand was out of frame enough that he could stroke his ear without being noticed from the party, his nails caressing his chin, he hissed wetly as his touch drew circles on his cheek leaning his head lightly into his digits– some people caught wind of them, seeing exactly nothing, just two friends laughing, something cute at most, a phone camera took a photo from behind catching all the indecency and nothing.

Homelander was so fucking hard as he heard the fan make commentary.

“No cumming, yet… you know the rules.”

“Fuck off.” Pre-cum coating his gloved fingers, he watched his cock twitch against the cold wind, wanting badly to just end it, feeling the burn building under his stomach– my turn!”

He tucked it, leaning down, hiding his face as he tried to breath himself back together, force it if he could, but he couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly, feeling the adrenaline coursing thru his veins, swallowing the intoxicating perfume, Homelander shoots a cautious look behind examining the room and the building for their next spot.

“Anywhere in the hotel grounds… we don’t leave the place…54 minutes left!” Homelander hisses.

“How many casualties allowed?”

“2 per person max.” He begrudgingly said– can’t make a scene… too many big names… journalist… photographers… we make it look like accidents.” Homelander looks him straight into his soul– already got Stan Edgar breathing down my neck.”

It hurt him to deny himself, but Robert didn’t argue, just massaging his neck to help him cool down.

Both men smiled at each other.

Counting every tick.

The game began.

It was a maze to navigate, to find blind spots, to discover empty halls and ignored crevices and staircases, Homelander and Tek Knight chasing each other from a distance, giggling like naughty school girls the closer and closer they got to being caught, watching their displays of debouchery with amusement as they grow increasingly more horny and frustrated, they couldn’t cum until the last set or until one gave up, edging until it was unbearable.

Homelander rubbed his aching hardened member against the pillow of some stranger’s suite who had foolishly left the balcony open... Robert listened to his meandering waltzing around the room, sniffing some girls lace underwear while frothing his cock, being just a pitch louder than he should for the other man’s pleasure before he had settled on the bed and now Robert could feel his own cock about to break, his balls heavy and swollen and the pre-cum stain dampening his suit as it twitched around his hand.

Homelander loudly suckled on his fingers, wetting them until they were covered in a thick layer of drool.

Letting out the most obscene moan as he slapped his own ass, earning a dirty glance from the soon to be loser-- Tek had broken into the suite below drinking in their minibar just hearing the action with eyes closed as he stained the bed with pre-mix… as he tried to calm his cock and definitely to avoid coming from the sounds of Homelander fingering his pussy, choking as the wet squelching sounds grew furiously louder.

“That couple just finished having dinner downstairs… you might want to hurry up… should be here in a couple minutes tops.” He mumbled trying to calm down as Homelander moaned louder calling his name inside desperate whispers– fuck…”

He pressed the right spots, twisting his back as he sped up his rutting, feeling sweat drops down his nose as he got closer and closer to cumming, as his fingers dug deeper enough to bring that pleasurable pressure, gasping as the pain had started to become so unbearable.

“Quit.”

“No!” He stopped throwing the pillow against the wall, turning on his back, breathing heavily.

“John… Come meet me in the bathrooms… now.”

“You giving up?”

“No.”

“Then I am getting a cold shower.”

“John if you don’t come meet me in the bathrooms I’ll go find somebody else to join me.”

He didn’t like that tone… he used it so much on Robert it was no surprise the actor had learned it worked both ways, Homelander sat on the bed, putting his suit on after dousing his groin with cold water, glad the padding hid his half-mast.

Flying out the balcony and hopping back to their party searching for him amongst the crowd of drunks.

Maeve caught him coming back, caught the fluster in his step and the flush on his cheek under the coloured light.

Biting her lips, knowing what was happening… she should’ve known that when these two knuckleheads got together they would either try to out-bitch each other or play their stupid dirty game…

She used to wonder if he would make her less miserable if he had been able to be with Robert, if his anger and obsession wasn’t fueled by projection… Neither man could’ve ever been together, and he had taken it out on her, obsessing on the only woman in his eyes (supposedly).

Maeve knew just how hungry they were… touch starved… letting their hands touch just never for too long just constant light brushes… just bumping shoulders here and there for a second too long… Maeve at least found joy in seeing him suffer even if it was returned to her x10 worse.

She took a glass, a canape and followed him discreetly.

He entered the empty bathroom, tapping on each cubicle as if he was a mere human finding nothing until the last stall.

Sitting on the disabled toilet with his ankle over his knee and two glasses of champagne.

“So romantic.”

Placing the glasses on his sides, he dug into his breast pocket to pull out a flower head, extending his fingers towards him– slightly wilted and small, a once vibrant rose bud… but just as fragrant as the rest.

Showing up at his penthouse always carrying roses, making him know what those pretty women in the movies felt when their hands were filled with a bouquet… Homelander had gotten plenty in his life… given many as well… so the magic should've died out... yet here he was a twenty-two year old sheltered boy swallowing nervously as his cheeks heat up in front of the boy he liked.

Jittery and bashful from a single rose… just small enough he could hide it in his jacket… no matter where they would go… if he could get away with it… if he knew he could… Robert would make his heart flutter.

He picked him by the collar, scrunching the fine fabric of his suit before risking it all on his lips, Tek Knight took a second to react, entertaining his hands as they leap towards the exposed flesh of his neck, digging into his scalp as their tongues twist.

Slamming themselves on the wall letting the unlocked door rock back and forth, Homelander's lips plump as he suckles and licks every ridge, alcohol and peppermint pungent on his tongue, wanting to savor him, wanting to swallow every drop of drool of Robert’s tongue, wanting so desperately to fill this anguish.

Kissing him was the cure to a million ailments, it filled him with just as much happiness as it made him die… it was agonizing knowing how much his body wanted Tek… how much it missed him, his breath could’ve been sulfur and he would would’ve choke on it gladly… just agony… if he could be that foolish young man again to try to change time... Homelander still wouldn’t hesitate jumping back into this car wreck, he would hurt himself on this soft silky lips over and over again.

Tek pressed his knee in-between his tights, dropping his hands over his arms, ripping the gloves with force until his naked hands rubbed against each other, his left fingers latch on the zipper pulling it to feel more skin, wanting to feel the buttery feeling of Homelander’s being.

Homelander returned the favor, skillfully opening his shirt, knowing he couldn’t just rip it off– that had been hard to explain before.

Feeling every hurried heartbeat against his hand, feeling every inch of hardened muscle on his smooth chest.

“Want to call it quits, John?” He sussurated into his neck, suckling on the crumbs of heat he could get– come on, sugar. I want you so fucking bad… I want to die inside you…” tracing his chin the tip of his tongue, Homelandeer shuddered whining as the pain in his pants grew unbearable once more, crying into his hand as Tek Knight licked his ear– I want you to fuck me so fucking hard I’ll need crutches.”

“Robert!” he hissed, pulling his head wanting to kiss him more, quick pecks laughing quietly into him, panting constellations into his neck– give up and I’ll make you feel like fucking Madonna.”

He parted, taking a pair of steps back stopped by the toilet’s edge, close to coming undone.

“Lower your pants. Game hasn’t ended.”

He undoes his belt letting it flop on his sides, teasing him as he takes his sweet time lowering his zipper… he’s hard, twitching in the warm air. Homelander doesn’t copy him turning towards the exit, brushing close enough to tease the man, hands quickly grab him by the hip pressing himself against him, rubbing his length on America.

“I want to make this more fun, you pervert.”

He pushes the door, leaving him behind, stopping by the basin, a wide grin on his face.

“Fuck that stupid fucking glass. You and your weird hole kink… You know Knight… I find your thing funny so amuse me…why else bring those here– You know I don’t drink.”

“To celebrate my victory of course.”

It had been a gradual thing, to witness his fixation evolve, that naivety inside Homelander had wilted into bitterness and seeing Tek’s humiliating exploits almost comforted him… that he broke without him.

They would never be more than a rendezvou, they clung to each other wanting to make every second longer than before, parted by the wild current they still swummed against it, hoping to meet in the middle, content to just brush their fingertips.

Over the years as time settled on them while their hearts remained inmature, Homelander had noticed this unusual proclivity, it began as simple fascination, pensive stares, fingers caught drawing circles repeatedly, burning his finger as it follows the edge over and over… watching him fuck a tree engrossed him, cackling as he got worse and worse, he had been so good that he can’t find pleasure in people anymore– he thought.

Wishing it was him.

Homelander cocked his head watching the man spill on the floor, bucking his hips, hissing and gasping as the bubbly fizzles around his sensitive head and his hole, tickled by the fizz in a way a tongue could never, it was growing warm and sticky, as he pushed the expensive drink with his girth, the cold made him shudder now the smooth wet glass licked his cock back.

Homelander leaned down whistling to catch his attention.

Robert stops abruptly– Homelander bare it all.

It was hard to believe there was a time where he was shy and nervous, where he had to teach him what to do, where he was too afraid to bend over for him, now he purred as his fingers teased his entrance, pushing in, stretching himself just a tad– Robert mouth watered, wanting to bury his face in there, the glass no longer as appealing.

With his belt dragging on his ankles, he quickly found himself on his knees.

Homelander gasped– guess he wasn’t the only one allowed to play dirty, he thought. One hand firmly using a glass fleshlight and the other spreading his cheek, Tek squeezed and slapped as his tongue drew circles, as it reached deeper, slobbering into his chin… the taste strong and salty.

Homelander had to hold the base of his cock, leaking pre-cum into the polished floors.

“This is the women’s bathroom.”

Both men flinched, eyes and muscles ready to neutralize the threat yet all Tek Knight could muster was a shrug before returning back to his meal.

Homelander twisted his back, careless fingers vaguely attempting to push him away, stifling a laugh as he stares back at Maeve, she looks at the exit knowing there’s a passerby in the hall cursing at the out of service sign.

“Please tell me you haven’t killed anybody tonight.”

Homelander shook his head biting his lip as Tek sped up his tongue, lowering it until he was suckling on the sensitive perineum, biting it, and kissing it, not stopping as he stared at Maeve briefly, not hiding his annoyance.

Back then she was the one next to him in the magazines… always running after her… she was the one that was the most special, she was the one that understood him the best, who suited him best… horseshit, he told himself.

“Only 1 person, my bad.” Tek Knight kisses his ass standing up, pulling his pants with one hand and carrying the glass with the other– I quit.” He grumbled.

Coming into the champagne glass, looking at his load as it mixed with some bubbly before leaving it on the sink.

He took to the basin after taking a handful of paper towels, washing his hands without care while soaking the towels.

“Hey…” Homelander took his shoulder.

“What?”

“You can’t just quit!?”

“I can’t stand her.” His smile is still so charming as he speaks, looking down as the washes off the sticky champagne stains off his groin– go! be a tattle-tell if you like Maeve… nobody its gonna fucking believe you.”

“Don’t be like that… Maeve isn’t going to do such thing… right, Maeve?”

“Don’t care. You can have him now if you want, Ms. Cockblocker.”

Before Meave could answer back, she was met with an accusatory finger on her face, Tek zipped his pants after doing half the job, just clean enough that he could survive whatever was left ot the afterparty but Homelander wouldn’t let him leave, his hand pulling on his elbow keeping him firmly in his presence.

“Ignore her… we always did love an audience.” He turned to Maeve– you stay right there and keep watch, understand?” He growled, eyes flickering red towards her direction.

“What do you want anyways?” He said still miffed but relaxing around Homelander’s grip.

“Just making sure you two weren’t going to be covered in blood… dunno if you know this Knight but there’s a lot going on right now.”

“Yeah right. You just wanted to ruin my fun… like you always do.”

“You think I want your se–

“Both of you shut up! Maeve learn to mind your own business and you don’t antagonize her… she’s here because she wants to watch that’s why! She has what three bottles in her already!”

“Two and a half… fuck you drink a lot of merlot.” He seemed disgusted at the choice– please tell me you had the moscato, it was simply refreshing!”

“I don’t like moscato.” she chuckles– and am not drunk, I'm tipsy.” she laughs with a sleepy smile.

“You’re just another pervert who wants to see his ex get fucked in the ass by his other ex... so be quiet and enjoy the show."

She tried to wipe that shit eating grin on her face.

“Forget about her and just think of me… I want you… I won… so my price is you sucking me off…” He took his face stroking his neck, forcing him to look directly at him– Robert…”

“You didn’t win. I quit. That means the price is null…” both looked so needy, Robert's darkened eyes almost pleading him to make him stay where his lips couldn't.– suck me off first… please, baby… I’m upset.”

“No, you sore loser…”

“You’re so cruel.” He moped.

Homelander rolled his eyes taking the glass before skulking the contents, Robert got hard immediately, watching Homelander lick the rim clean before forcing him into a salty sweet kiss.

Cum frothing from the friction.

They danced their way back into the cubicle, grinning as the toilet lid squeaked under his weight, Homelander threw his boots and his tights off with enviable effortlessness giving Mr. Vernon plenty to take a hold off, he squeezed his thin legs, savoring the velvety texture, his cock hard and leaking, Tek took it giving it a few pumps, licking his taste off lips with anticipation, his mind solely focused on John, Maeve ceased to exist even if the stench of merlot didn’t, he only wanted this.

“Thanks baby.”

“Only because you’re cute, John.”

Throwing his head back as the other man took his manhood, slurping and swallowing, each stroke followed by his mouth, Homelander placing his hand firmly on his neck pushing him further, he could feel him chuckle against his length.

Homelander came hard and embarassingly quick, whimpering as he buckled his hips.

But Robert was glad regardless.

Tek didn’t stop moving his lips, wanting him to grind his teeth some more, he let it out with a wet pop, gasping with a satisfied smile, kissing his legs and thighs wishing to leave hickeys and burns.

“You swallowed.” He sounded so disappointed it touched the other’s heartstrings with guilt.

“My turn.”

Tek pushed him back, standing up weakly, leaning to his side to take the second glass of champagne he had left on the floor before.

“Lick it.”

Homelander obliged, licking the edge creasing his nose as the fizz got on his nostrils.

Maeve grimace was short lived, Homelander hand tugged on that pesky belt, pulling him out once more, stroking him roughly, as his tongue parted his lover’s needless toy.

Maeve sat not minding if her skirt got damp, biting her lips as she saw the blonde get on his knees.

Transfixed as she watched his head bobbed, clenching her legs as the man sung loudly, they spoke with only looks, whispering to each other, Robert encouraging him, to look past the flavor, Homelander groaned, displeased but he would cooed him, coaxed him to keep going, coaxing gently to take it deeper, playing with his hair as the man flat tongue made him see the runnign waters of the river styx, rutting his hips into his throat as he saw death welcoming him.

Maeve hand stroked her clit, taking short breath as she tried to not make a sound, her pussy soaking her fingers as she traveled a little further, wanting to fill herself with anything but not wanting to make a show for the bastards either.

Maeve had to look away, she had peeked into something forbidden. It seems for Homelander had leaped into his mouth, kissing him, burning him, Tek was seeing stars, the mixture of salt and french sweetness coating his tongue.

Craning his back as the other man’s weight pulled him down– he saw his John from all those years ago, how nervous his hand was, cupping his cheek, searching for cues to deepen their kiss, to know Robert had wanted him just as much as he had.

He always had.

Fame, fortune and the admiration of many didn’t compare to being Homelander’s.

He wished he hadn’t been greedy.

He wished he had been happy to just be the mistress.

He wished he hadn’t been the clever one that turned to that once naive boy and told him that it could never be.

He had to cut him out of him like he was cancer.

No matter how much he wanted him, no matter how much it hurt to see him running after that redhead.

He looked up to catch her, smelling her arousal and regret.

“Come to my loft… John… just for tonite…” he susurrated– I want to be yours…”

Homelander smiled, half lid eyes and bruised lips gave him a soft yes.

Maeve ran out the bathroom wanting to find something to wash away the confused feeling in her stomach, thinking of that cute publicist that had been eyeing her all night.

Robert’s ear followed her heels, as John kissed him while fixing himself doing just enough of a good job that cameras wouldn’t notice how disheveled he was, he had done a good job considering he hadn’t stopped kissing his lover for most of the ordeal.

“I’ll be a good boy and get the bath ready for when you get home, Tek.”

“I’ll get the condoms on my way home then.”

“Why? We are gonna run out of them anyhoo” he growled into him, licking Tek's lower lip, gnawing on him until a scarlet drop fell on his tongue– see ya in a jiffy, Robert.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I’ll go first.”

Homelander rolled his eyes, kissing him goodbye for the time being.

Ignoring the crowds as they both left to attend more pressing matters.

Glad to meet again as if they were just those hopeful stupid kids yet again.

#homelander #tek knight #homelander fanfiction #tek knight fanfiction #the boys fanfiction #my fic tag #personal #cozy corner kinktober #homelader x tek knight #homeknight?#Hometek?#TekHome?#not proofread sorry #I am esl sorry for grammar #hometek #holelander

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