yet no cardigans were purchased in the making of this post

Share A Bed

A/N: This is my first Spencer Reid fic on here so please enjoy! Requests are open and so is the tag list! Thanks boos! I would love feedback!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Fluff??


Reid silently hung his scarf on one of the small hooks that decorated the foyer of your small apartment. He slid his shoes on the small, rubber mat placed directly under the scarf. It was early October and the scarf gave the illusion that it was further along in the Autumn season, but Reid had never minded being a little warmer than necessary. He slowly undid the buttons of his cardigan, placing it on the wooden chair placed in the corner. He then made his way down the hall, and to the kitchen.

His satchel still hung at his hip as he slid a mug under the coffee maker. You had purchased it specifically for these nights, when Spencer’s mind would continue to work after the jet had landed, and the building had been locked. He quickly scurried to the table, laying his files and paperwork about in various, logical positions. He then set his satchel down, the leather worn, but matching the cozy feeling of the small room. He took a leap back over to the mug, which was now full, before the brewer could make the alarming noise.

Spencer had the key to your apartment for nights like this. You had only been dating for a short period of time but your heart told you to let him into the more sacred place of your life. Your threshold of knowledge, and comfort held its own charm that Spencer had fallen in love with as he had fallen in love with you. The place gave him as much comfort as you did, even if only a ghost of your form inhabited the air he breathed.

He was now at the table, writing, and reviewing, but not opening into anything new. He had lost is train of thought during the jet ride back and now felt the urge to continue the work he neglected, even though the option to finish it up tomorrow morning was clearly available. But, then again it was technically tomorrow morning.

The coffee wafted into his nostrils, and the small lamp, which was another purchase you had made in his name, was slowly overheating. Spencer yawned, but continued to move along into the papers shuffling around him.

Your footsteps could be heard, but not by the scrawny genius who was far too into his work for the early hour. You had known it was him by the way the lamp light subtly traveled through the hall, down to your door, and the sound of papers was all too familiar. You slid your feet onto your wooden floor and pulled your body down from the mattress that was on a larger post than needed. You quickly, but quietly made your way to the kitchen.

You stood their silently, watching your boyfriend work continuously. His eyebrow twitched a little with every flick of his pen, and his lips pursed between sighs. You smiled.

“Hey there handsome,” you smiled into your words, feeling the rise of your cheeks.

He looked up, only to recognize the form of the woman before him vaguely, for it being a little too late and dim, and then the images flushed into his sight. A smile pulled the corner of his eyes slightly upward, but then concerned filled his orbs.

“Why are you awake?” he asked.

You just let a humorous breath escape before you moved over to his side. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and breathed in the smell of his hair and skin. “Why don’t you come to bed?” you asked. This was a daring question considering he usually slept on the couch, per the newness of your relationships level.

He looked up to meet your gaze, “I was planning on pulling out the-,” he started.

“I meant my bed,” you kissed the top of his crown, “Or I guess our bed now”. Spencer’s body was relaxed, yet a nervous aurora was emitted into the surrounding oxygen that would eventually fill your lungs.

“I mean I have this-,” he started again, but you interrupted once more.

“There’s always more,” this was true, there was no lie to your response. He sighed, set his blue-inked pen down, and then stood. You knew that the only way to get him off that wooden chair was to surprise him with something daring and new.

 He followed you into your room, and you slowly closed the door behind you. He quickly changed in your bathroom, and then came back out, you were already in the blankets.

“Are you sure this is, uh,” and for the third time you answered to his incomplete sentence.

Nodding, “Yeah Spence,” and with that he moved, cautiously to the opposite side of the bed. He entered the fortress of linen, and you naturally scooted over, after switching the hardened plastic of the light cord.

You both slowly, and gradually moved towards the center of the mattress, and slowly but surely both of you were lightly snoring into each other.

Sun light from a late afternoon danced across the room through the worn curtains. Both of you, cuddled in the center of your bed, lightly snoring still, with the smell of coffee in the air, and the feel of an Autumn that was not just quite as Autumn as perceived by those walking the streets.

Your bed was warm, and the scarf would continue to hang, as it would not be needed for another few days.

Castle Ficlet - Lily’s Socks

Set Post-8x22

Keys in hand, Kate pauses just outside the loft door, taking just a moment to calm her mind and center herself. The hustle and bustle of the work day continues to buzz through her brain just as it has during the subway ride home, the walk to Broome Street and the ascent in the elevator. As captain, she spends each day inundated with requests, paperwork, and the general disgruntlement of her coworkers. Most days she doesn’t mind, but on days like that one the bureaucracy of it all drives her nearly to the brink, which is why she uses her pre-apartment-entry routine.

No one ever told her being a mother and working full-time would be easy, which is good, because it isn’t. She has known since the beginning that without a husband as amazing, dedicated and loving as hers, leaving her child each morning would be a struggle. With Castle, it’s just a minor bump of sadness on the road that is life. Still, when she’s at home she wants to spend as much time focused on Lily as she can, which is why she always makes a point to clear her mind.

Shutting her eyes, Kate takes in a deep cleansing breath through her nose and pushes it out slowly through pursed lips. She knows there will be time later to vent to Castle about the ridiculous hoops she needs to jump through to satisfy 1PP’s requests, but that won’t be until after Lily is in bed. From that moment until dusk she will focus on her family.

Mind now clear (well, clearer), Kate pushes the key into the lock and turns it with a smile. “Hello?” she calls out upon entering the space. She shrugs off her coat and drops her bag beside the door. Hearing no response to her earlier inquiry, she asks again, “Castle?”  Just then, she hears him. His voice is faint and to her right, which leads her to guess he’s coming out of the office-slash-playroom.

“Mommy’s home; let’s go see Mommy.”

Kate tentatively steps further into the apartment, her eyes trained on the office door, eager to see her little one and learn what she’s been up to that day. Due to her early shift that morning, Kate needed to leave the apartment before Lily was awake. All she could do was dust her fingers over the sleeping girl’s forehead and promise to greet her later. As much as she misses greeting the day with her daughter’s smile, the early shift allows her to be home by mid-afternoon, which means she is able to spend more time with Lily before she goes to sleep, so it is an acceptable trade off.

A moment later, from between the bookshelves, teeters out a grinning girl displaying her four front teeth. Her hair falls in whips across her forehead and, though she knows the notion is ridiculous, Kate feels like its darker than it was just a day earlier. The strawberry blonde from Lily’s birth is slowly darkening into auburn, but with her ivory soft skin she’s just as beautiful.

Keep reading

Previously on Sons of Malarkey…I mean Anarchy…

Chinese people didn’t fare well this episode. But like I said, diversity is important when murdering the fuck out of groups of people. Next week, I suggest SOA go up against a MC of handicapped Eskimos. Or a crew of red-haired left-handed midgets. Just to you know…make sure all people are represented.

I love this fucking show. I’m enjoying it tremendously. So my posts are not to say I hate this show or won’t be there until the last Reaper comes on the screen…unless Jax has sex with Wendy or Lyla. And then I’ll be like FUK THIS SHIT and start an unsuccessful Twitter war with Kurt Sutter. No one wants that, trust me.

This episode blessed us with gratuitous shots of Dead Colette. Like five times, the camera focused on her dead body. We got it bro, the bitch dead. She dead.

They showed her ass one more time.

SHE’S DEAD. And again, as a heartless bitch, I say so? I’m sorry Jax’s most recent non- marital penis cozy died, but hey, she’s obviously so fucking DEAD. You don’t need to keep showing us that bitch being dead. We got it. Zip up the body bag please.

I liked that Jax just Kanye shrugs his way through Jarry questioning him about the massacre. I mean, massacres happen, I guess. WTF she want him to do about it? Stop…starting them?

Jax’s voice has annoyed me all season. Angry Jax is a mixture of British New York doc worker linguistics shit but that’s okay. It’s how low his voice is that bothers me. It’s sexy but still. He’s in desperate need of a throat lozenge. He’s always talking all husky and shit. It’s the 9 million cigarettes he’s smoked between now and the season opener got his throat all clogged.

I’m sorry all this has happened to Nero, but I’m more angry that I purchased the same cardigan he had on from the women’s section at JCPenny’s. And I got my shit on sale.

Okay, WTF…are the kids….in a porn studio? Just….I mean….but for why? First they were at the BROTHEL, then all the whores got murked and now they get to be at the porn studio. Who knows what STDs are airborne. Those poor kids, after Tara everyone in their life is fucked.

And let’s discuss Michael Myers….I mean Abel. Kid’s flipped his shit. I think he’s already going to torture animals. I predict Chucky is his first kill. By the season’s ender he’ll have made his own cut out from the flesh of a victim. And Jax will just sit by him and go “You alright little man?” and that’ll be it.

The hammer shit? Frightening. Course, if he accidently whacked Gemma in the face, I’d give him a pass. I honestly don’t even want Jax to kill her anymore. I want Abel to do it and then take his lunch box and get on the school bus like ain’t shit about killing Nana bothered him. Circle of life like a bitch.

BECAUSE Gemma ain’t SHIT. SHE AIN’T SHIT. If there was something less shit than Gemma, she’s gonna find it, lie to it and murder it so she can be THAT AIN’T SHIT bitch. I hate everything about her. And at this point I don’t care if it’s Jax, Lin, Nero, Juice, the police, a bird, a rabid squirrel, ebola, or whatever, that bitch gotta die and it has to be painful.

I hope Juice pull that trigger but I doubt it. Sutter wouldn’t give me the pleasure.

Wendy and Nero…gonna bang. I’m sure of it. Like 99.9% sure of it.

I was all about Jax and Lin, and then Lin went Karate Kid Part 3 on his ass, and got some licks in, and Jax went to town at the end, but that lame shit about the police coming made me mad. But Jax was going in. He wanted him dead.

PLEASE NOTE JAX’S WHITE KICKS FANS: The AF1s, despite the kicking, gravel, and all the blood Jax is wading in….STILL FRESH YO. STILL MUTHAFUCKING FRESH LIKE OUT THE BOX.

Shallow note: Robocop’s hairline really bothers me. It freaks me out whenever he’s on screen.

Bobby still ain’t drop that baby yet. But I think he will die this season. Usually every season, Bobby is shot or in jail. His ass ain’t had a bullet in him yet. I don’t trust it. I think Bobby going to die.

What the fuck I’m saying? In the end, all that will be left is Unser and Abel with Charming burning down around them and Abel wondering if he can make Unser into a nice pair of chaps.

Chibs and his sheriff…eh. I don’t like her and I don’t understand, and I think she’s got a plan.

Until next week…