#clay spencer imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiderwriter · 10 months

Note

hi!!! omg i’ve been following you for a bit now and i saw that it’s not only your 1k celebration(AHHHHHH OMG CONGRATS GIRL!!!) but also your birthday soon!!! So happy birthday and i hope you’re having a fantabulous day!!

If it’s not too much trouble, could i request #4 on your 1k celeb list for Spencer Reid? maybe like imagine they’re undercover in a club or at a party and reader has to dance on him for some odd reason and boy is already mad in love and now he’s got a hard on while his crush dances on him for a case and reader maybe takes mercy on him and drags him to a private place tooooooo😋😋

it’s totally okay if this isn’t to your fancy so don’t feel pressured at all!! i love your writing so much and i just know anything you write, even if you don’t write this ask or if you change it up, will be amazing!!! enjoy your birthday b and take loads of a care of yourself!💕💕

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I AM SO SORRY it took me nearly four months to get to 😭 I actually loved writing this one, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the birthday wishes 💖

Warnings: public sex, sex in an alleyway, talks of oral (m receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk, creampie, coworkers to lovers, spoilers for upto season 7 of Criminal Minds.

“Cover? Right now? I'm wading through three caseloads of paperwork right now, I don't have time to go gallivanting across the country for another unit.” You stressed to your Unit Chief as she smiled sympathetically at you.

“Temporary reassignment means your desk will be cleared of work when you return, I'll personally complete it myself. That is if you decide to come back.”

“It would take one hell of an offer to get me to join another team, ma'am, and you know it.”

Working under your boss Andi Swann at the Domestic Trafficking Task Force was something you took a lot of pride in. The work you did saved hundreds of women across the country, and you found justice for the ones you were too late for. It had been your second choice after you'd left the academy and a particularly ambitious one, all things considered.

“Y/N, the Behavioural Analysis Unit needs you. Now, I remember your resume as well as you do, most likely, so don't try to convince me all of the profiling credits and courses you took at the academy were solely to be used for trafficking work.”

You flushed as the woman caught you off guard. It was true that you hoped to someday be able to transfer to the aforementioned unit, but you truly still respected the woman in front of you.

Deciding that your respect trumped your human need to placate her worries about you suddenly skipping out on her, you simply cleared your throat and spoke as calmly as possible.

“What is it exactly that the BAU needs me for?”

The older woman smiled back at you and shook her head slightly before opening her mouth again.

“It seems that one of their team members needs a date.”

–X–

Having recovered from the shock of your reassignment and its details, you'd found yourself packing a few things from your desk, grabbing your go-bag, climbing into the elevator and arriving at the doors of the BAU.

You then struggled for a few minutes to open with all the things crowding your hands.

“Here let me,” a voice said from behind you, as you suddenly saw an arm come up around your side to push the door open. You followed your gaze up the arm until your back was against the door, moving backwards even as he pushed it open as your throat went dry.

The man in front of you was hot. It was as if some deity had plucked your ideal type out of your mind, moulded him with clay, and kiln fired him before placing him right back in front of you as temptation.

You were sure that minutes had passed since he'd spoken with you just staring up at him like this, but alas, you really couldn't help yourself.

“Oh! Thank you,” you smiled, hoping it would diffuse the sudden awkward atmosphere that your staring had bought on. “I'm sorry, can you tell me where Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner's office is?” You mumbled out, trying to clear your throat silently as you lost yourself in the strangers' gaze.

His eyes were locked on yours, and as he broke eye contact, your heart jumped as you noticed his ears were stained red, embarrassment apparently not lost on him.

“Up the stairs, first office, his name is on the door. You must be SSA Y/N.” Shocked to hear your name drop from his mouth you felt a Rusholme mortification as you studied the man once again.

Slightly messy hair, pile of books in his hand, dressed like he'd fallen into a closet at a retirement home, tall wiry frame.

Ashley Seaver's description of Doctor Spencer Reid had been spot on. Apart from the part where she had failed to mention, he was quite possibly the most attractive man on earth.

“Doctor Reid?” You asked, voice a squeak, almost scared that you were wrong despite there being no suggestion that you might be.

“How did you…?” His eyes widened with a smile as he looked back to you again, searching for answers with his head cocked slightly to the side.

“I work in Domestic Trafficking. Agent Seaver and my unit chief both gave me brief descriptions of your team so I wouldn't get bogged down with introductions when I got here.” You explained quickly for fear that he'd think you slightly stalkerish for knowing his name, even though he obviously knew yours as well.

He smiled slightly awkwardly again and gestured further inside the office, sending you off to your temporary new Unit Chief's office with a small whisper.

“I look forward to working with you.”

--X–

The debrief with Aaron Hotchner was swift and you appreciated the man's ability to cut straight to the point.

There was a killer targeting women in New York City, just like there were killers targeting women everywhere. But this one had taken specific issue with women who were social climbers, who attended events with high profile and successful men on their arms.

So far, the NYPD could link 7 homicides to the killer and were under pressure to catch the guy before Lucky Number eight.

The FBI had stepped in and suggested you be Lucky Number eight.

They'd been sent the case as a consult and provided the profile, to which the NYPD had asked for full cooperation.

Which is how you found yourself on a jet heading to New York City two hours after Andi Swann had called you into her office. Productive day.

“What does your budget look like after a year of private jet travel?” You wondered out loud as you followed Hotchner onto the plane. SSA David had followed you onto the plane as well, having tried to introduce himself earlier. You'd allowed him the moment of humility before telling him you knew exactly who he was, and he'd be surprised if anyone in the entire bureau didn't.

“Well they haven't put me on display yet, so I don't think I'm quite a fossil. Pleasure to be working with you.”

His words were kind enough, but they were a reminder of the other man you'd met earlier.

The man who had since climbed into the seat next to you, ready for the on the go case briefing.

“We've established identities for the two of you, ready for you to go in tonight to establish yourselves as bait,” Hotch explained, handing you each a personnel folder.

“Spencer, you'll be Charles Buchanan, local businessman with alleged ties to several socialite families in the Upper East Side.” That seemed to earn a few chuckles from Agent Morgan from his perch at the other end of the plane desk, but he cleverly kept his mouth shut.

“Y/N, you'll be Daisy Smith, you're a student putting herself through a graduate degree, who has turned to sugaring to cover course fees.”

“Sugaring?” Rossi asked from Hotch's side, waiting for someone to clarify.

“It's a term used to describe the act of being a sugar baby or sugar daddy. A usually non-sexual consensual relationship involving cash or other materialistic gifts.” Spencer filled in the gaps easily, without looking up from the file he was scanning ridiculously fast.

Okay, speed-reading and super intelligence check, and you were two for two on descriptions of Spencer Reid. Swann's description had also left a lot to be desired.

“We've got Garcia establishing some online profiles for the both of you currently using the images you sent us earlier. Hopefully, we were correct in our estimation of his hunting grounds, but he'll need to stalk you for a night or two before he strikes.”

You cleared your throat carefully as you finally decided to ask the question that had been bugging you the entire time.

“I'm sorry if this is forward, but is there a reason I was chosen for this assignment? I don't have much undercover experience, and I was told there were two women on your team. Was I misinformed?”

“That's correct. Unfortunately, last week, Agent Prentiss decided to take a job with Interpol in London. Agent Jareau was also recently married, so she put in leave to enjoy her honeymoon. None of the candidates we have lined up fit our Unsub's type. You do.”

“As good as I would look in a dress, you're going to be much more effective at catching this guy,” Morgan joked from the side, just as Hotch accepted a video call through to the jet.

“Morgan in a dress, sounds like one of my dreams come true.”

“Calm it, baby girl, what have you got for us?”

“Invitations to a charity ball being held in Manhattan tonight, and around 1000 hits across five sugaring platforms for Miss Y/N. If the FBI turns out to be a letdown, you have a lot of serious offers here, sweetie.” You laughed out loud at how she blasted through and diffused all the tension in your team, without even thinking to introduce herself first.

“You must be Penelope Garcia. It's nice to meet you.”

“Not as nice as it is to meet you, I promise.”

The remainder of the jet ride had been quiet if not restful, the presence of Spencer Reid a disturbingly pretty thorn in your side.

You'd sneaked glances at him multiple times, not an easy feat on a jet filled with profilers. His fingers had grazed yours as he passed you his file earlier as well, letting you read up on his new character.

What you found most distracting, though, was the now bare stretch of skin peaking out from his shirt collar.

He'd decided to take a nap at some point earlier, and now you silently cursed him for it as you looked at the splash of skin distractedly.

You could press your lips there and work your way up to his lips. Or you could go in the opposite direction and have more fun, you reminded yourself.

It seemed that image had you waking up, jerking upright so that you would not let that go any further.

This was your job. You were a professional, an FBI agent.

You weren't allowed to imagine giving this man a blow job on government time. You'd have to save that thought for after the case was closed, and you could go your separate ways, you thought.

Landing was easy and you moved straight into dress fittings and practising your story for the party later that night.

Which meant a blissful few hours without the distraction of Spencer Reid.

Luckily for you, the first dress they'd given you to wear had turned out to be a good fit, showcasing some of your more prominent assets.

It hugged your body tight, but it wasn't uncomfortable, showing off a generous amount of cleavage and leg as well. It wasn't quite scandalous, but you knew it was definitely the kind of outfit that would stick out like a sore thumb at a socialite dinner.

Which meant it was perfect for baiting the unsub.

By 7pm, you'd been outfitted, prepped, and deposited in the back of a limousine with Spencer Reid, and you were right back at square one trying not to climb him then and there.

His outfit choice had been slightly harder, apparently, given his taller frame, but the three piece suit they'd given him was do perfect it was hard to tell it wasn't tailored to his measurements.

“Are you nervous?” He asked, whispering the words in your ear as he stroked your hand. Although the limousine driver was an undercover NYPD detective, you'd both been told to get into character as quickly as possible.

There were a series of other undercover agents being placed throughout the party tonight - Hotch was going in as a representative of the District Attorney's office, a few NYPD detectives were serving guests drinks and food, and Rossi had managed to get an invite as himself.

Morgan was left running surveillance in the van outside.

Because of your outfit and the nature of the unsubs attacks, there had been no point in trying to put a wire on you at this point in time. It'd take him a week of surveillance to pick you up anyway. Tonight would just be the start of his hunt.

So you let Spencer stroke your hand, fingers locked in his as you gave him a smile, and tried not to imagine them wrapped around his cock.

“Just a little. I think it's the dress shows off a bit more than I'm used to.” He took a second to glance down your body, as if he'd been waiting for your permission until now, and you watched his eyes pause over your chest and at where the hem sat at the top of your thighs, dangerously close to bearing everything.

“You look… beautiful. I think our unsub will like it, at least.”

You tried to hide your disappointment as he pulled his hand away, ready to open the door as the car pulled up to your destination.

You surveyed the room as you walked in, trying to memorise every particularly leering smile from men as you made your way to your seat.

After half an hour, though, it seemed like catching your guy was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. Or a creep in a room full of creeps.

It seemed like every man who talked to Spencer only glanced at you to stare down your dress, a few even attempting to pat your back and let their hands drift south.

If it weren't for the sake of the job, you'd have sucker punched some of the richest men in New York City by now. And you'd have enjoyed it.

Politely detaching himself from conversation, Spencer guided you away to the dance floor for a second. You'd planned it this way for when you needed some time privately to discuss potential suspects.

A few other couples glided around the floor as you stood chest to chest with Spencer, surprised how confidently he was handling the caseload.

His hands took their places, one on your hip, the other gripping your own as you both began to sway side to side.

“Any ideas?” He whispered in your ear as you moved delicately.

“Your 10 o’clock. Younger son of the Johnson family. He’s been sat glaring at me for 10 minutes despite his mother's attempts to network for him.”

“It fits the profile, absent father, overbearing mother. He has obvious disdain for you. Is there anyone else?” His words were hot against your skin as you looked up at him, finding your lips surprisingly close as your bodies continued swaying together.

“Half of the men in this room have undressed me with their eyes, the other half actually tried to put their hands on me when they were talking to you.” He stiffened at that, breaking eye contact as his eyes flashed with sudden emotion.

His hand slid from your waist further down to stroke your ass slightly as he watched the crowd to see anyone taking offence at his sudden bold display of affection.

At least that was what you assumed he was doing as you too began to glance around, watching for anyone watching you, confident that Hotch, Rossi, and the others would do the same.

When his hand on your ass pulled you closer into him, though, you weren't so sure.

“Spencer, what are you-” You started in confusion, noticing that his gaze had returned to you. More specifically, that it had returned to your chest, as he stared down at how your breasts looked, pushed up against his chest as they were.

He encouraged your other hand to wrap around his shoulder, freeing his other hand to land on your ass again as he pulled you closer still.

You'd almost stopped moving, certain that having his body pressed against yours in every place hardly counted as dancing. You opened your mouth to say as much when you felt something twitch against your thigh. A low groan slipped from Spencer's lips as he adjusted your positions slightly as you felt something hard shift against your leg.

“Do you seriously have a boner right now?” You whispered, as much in exasperation as in excitement.

Spencer Reid was grinding his boner into you in front of a room full of people, and you felt like you'd just won the lottery.

“I'm sorry, natural reaction. You look so hot tonight, and then your hands were all over me.” He rambled slightly in his explanations, mortification clear on his face as he tried to apologise.

“It's okay.” You whispered in his ear, pulling yourself up on your toes softly to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

If you just so happened to rub up against him going up and down, eliciting another deep groan for the man, then so be it.

“Y/N…” He whispered you name like a prayer and it almost convinced you that there was no one else in the room.

“Spencer, there's no way our unsub is going to approach us if you have that thing tenting your pants.” You kept your voice low as your hands trailed down his chest. Pushing one further, you gently rubbed over his clothed member as if accentuating your point.

“We need to solve this problem, don't you think?”

His jaw clenched as he contemplated your words, trying not to let any other sounds out. His nod was barely perceptible, but within seconds you were glancing around the room for a quick exit, and in another minute, you'd slipped through a service entrance and out through some corridors into a dimly lit alleyway.

As soon as you were cloaked in darkness, Spencer was on you.

Whirling you around, he backed you into the wall until your back was pressed into it, and his lips were on yours.

You moaned helplessly into the kiss, hands finding his chest again and moving south even as he began exploring your body.

“This is an important case, and we're about to blow it because I can't keep my hands off you,” he whispered between kisses, lips trailing down your neck.

“Do you know how crazy we both must be?”

“I know exactly how crazy for you I am, Reid. Now, please let me suck your dick.” You moaned the words as his fingers found their way into your panties, stroking your clit.

“Y/N, I'm trying to talk sense into us here.” He groaned as your fingers fumbled with his pant buttons, hand sliding into the material to wrap around his cock.

“How much sense are you talking with your fingers inside me?” You panted, willing him to just fully let go and let you both enjoy yourselves.

“While we're out here, Hotch and Rossi are inside, noting down anyone who takes particular offence to our exit. We can enjoy ourselves and catch a better lead.” You started slowly pumping him then, as he pushed closer into you, allowing you to reach more of him at this different angle.

His head dropped to your shoulder as he breathed out a laugh.

“Right, this will help.” He tried to convince yourself, and you grinned in victory, rocking your hips against his hand to find your release sooner.

Until he withdrew his hand and used it to grasp your own, halting your movements.

“Spencer?” You pouted slightly, but he pressed another kiss to your lips this time forceful and demanding, to guess begging permission to enter and dominate you.

You gladly accepted him into your mouth, even as you felt him pushing up your skirt, letting the material ride higher as it had been trying to do all night.

Making sure you were steady against the brick wall, he pulled your hips up and around his, pushing your panties to the side as he pushed inside of you.

The stretch was maddening. Everywhere he touched became hot against the cool night breeze as he began his frenzied strokes into you.

You lost all capability for speech, which was probably for the best, as you were sure you'd only ask for him to do more disgusting things to you eventually.

His mouth slid to the top of your breasts as they bounced with each thrust, waiting to claim a nipple in his mouth when one eventually came free of the offending material.

“Such a little slut, begging to suck my dick. Maybe next time, princess.” You screamed and arched your back as he finally bit down around your nipple, soothing the skin with his tongue as he licked and suckled there.

His other hand fell to your clit again, pushing you to the edge as you finally came on his cock.

He didn't stop though, powering through as you tightened around him, moaning wantonly as his thrusts hit deeper still.

“Let's see what our unsub thinks when he sees my cum dripping out of you,” he whispered again, as he too let himself go, releasing spurt after spurt of cum inside of you.

Making sure you were strong enough, he set you back down on the ground, keeping an arm wrapped around you protectively as you smoothed your clothes back into place.

You helped him button his pants as he smoothed your hair, tucking a stray piece behind your ear before ducking in for one more sweet kiss.

“I'm sorry that I couldn't let you, uh, perform orally,” he blushed again, his ears that same shade of red you noticed earlier as he guided you back inside. “I think someone would have noticed if I'd ruined your makeup that much.”

You practically choked on your own spit as you finally slipped back into the dance hall.

“Next time,” you said, making sure to finish the conversation you'd started. “We’ll have more privacy.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid criminal minds

1K notes · View notes

sohannabarberaesque · 2 months

Text

Postcards from Snagglepuss

An amusing thing happened on the way to Okoboji

AT A SMALL-TIME CAFE IN SPENCER, IOWA: Just your basic diner in what could be called the Gateway to Okoboji, especially coming from the southern parts via US 71, even if Huckleberry and I drove westerly from Clear Lake on US 18 after the 4th of July Convocation and some dive time with Peter Potamus on Clear Lake.

Our purpose while on Lake Okoboji: Joining the Three Wolves and the Divin' Wolf Pups in some worthwhile diving in what must probably be one of Iowa's treasures, perhaps its largest natural lake even!

But so to lunch: Just your atypically Iowan breaded pork cutlet sandwich, some French fries and soda ... and in a booth nearby--no less than Super Snooper and Blabbermouse, taking some time out of their established detective game to get some much-deserved rest. Witness the black tank tops both chose to wear in lieu of the detective trenchcoat.

"Uh, say, Snooper," Huckleberry Hound remarked, "I find it rather interesting that you've decided to take some time off from the detective biz."

To which Super Snooper remarked rather off-handedly, "At least our going casuals for some part of an interval likely makes sense. Cause when things get to brass tacks, and all that, the medico is likely to be putting us on a vacation."

"Snoop's probably right," Blabbermouse chimed in. "After all, I hear where Okoboji is remarkably blue and pristine!"

"Pretty much like yours truly," Huckleberry Hound chimed in with some pride. "Though what Mildew Wolf said once about imagining someone dumping a large bottle of bluing may have been a bit on the comedically ironic side."

Super Snooper again: "Which, having watched that particular Underwater America with Peter Potamus episode several times, must have been enough to find a little fascination with how a resort as would typically be associates with northern Minnesota or Wisconsin could actually be in the likes of Iowa, of all the places all over...."

"Ourselves," saith I, "we're meeting up with a trio of dive-happy wolves; I assume you know about them."

"Geez, Snagglepuss!" chimed in Blabbermouse, "No less than Hokey Wolf and Loopy De Loop and Mildew Wolf as well!"

"Yogi may be smarter than the average bear," Super Snooper remarked, "but Blabbermouse can be probably the smartest of detective sidekicks!"

"Amusing analog," quipped I. "And doesn't breaded pork cutlet seem so quaintly--Iowan?" The waitress who served our booth couldn't have agreed more, noting where one particular stand at the annual Clay County Fair, which Spencer hosts every fall after Labour Day--once described as perhaps the most typically American county fair--sells breaded pork cutlets about two-thirds the size of a typical dinner plate!

"And I assume you're heading to 'Boji," the waitress remarked as we paid our way, which was duly noted. Even if the waitress had to explain that to Iowans, "'Boji" was a rather casual term for the Lake Okoboji area.

Super Snooper and Blabbermouse concurred on the remark about heading to 'Boji.

@warnerbrosentertainment @artistic-octopus @jellystone-enjoyer @iheartgod175 @funtasticworld @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @archive-archives @hanna-barbera-blog @screamingtoosoftly @thylordshipofbutts @hanna-barberians @thebigdingle @themineralyoucrave @hanna-barbera-land @warnerbros-blog1 @indigo-corvus @groovybribri @theweekenddigest @aquablock68 @passionateclown @warnerbrosent-blog

#hanna barbera #fanfic #fanfiction #postcards from snagglepuss #huckleberry hound #super snooper and blabbermouse #unlikely encounter #over lunch #okoboji #'boji #hannabarberaforever

2 notes · View notes

isabellarosestudio6 · 30 days

Text

Week 5: Research

What is relevant or unanswered in my practice right now?

(Following my Symbiotic Dream Girl Performance/Piece)

theatricality in art

self, image, the mirror and the screen,

TEXT: Rodosthenous, G. (2015). Introduction: Staring at the forbidden: Legitimizing voyeurism. In Theatre as Voyeurism: The Pleasures of Watching (pp. 1-25). London: Palgrave Macmillan UK.

[Copy and Pasted]

"Redefining voyeurism in theatre:

Clay Calvert in his insightful Voyeur Nation proposes four categories of ‘mediated voyeurism’: video verite voyeurism, reconstruction voyeurism, tell-all/show-all voyeurism and sexual voyeurism (2004: 4). In order to apply his methodology more explicitly on theatre, I would like to adapt this methodology and offer a series of 14 kinds of ‘theatrical voyeurism’. These are provisional and there is slippage between and across the categories of experience.

Accidental voyeurism: When, during a performance, the audience

gains pleasure by observing an action on stage that was unplanned

and s/he becomes a witness of that action. This might include

wardrobe malfunction, lighting malfunction, a fall or a mistake

on stage.

Celebrity voyeurism: When the audience attends a performance

simply to watch a celebrity disrobe on stage. When it was announced in 2000 that Kathleen Turner would appear naked in The Graduate, £90,000 worth of theatre tickets were sold in a single day. Other notable examples include Nicole Kidman in The Blue Room (directed by Sam Mendes, 1998), who was described by Charles Spencer of The Telegraph as ‘pure theatrical Viagra’ (1998), Daniel Radcliffe in Equus (directed by Thea Sharrock, 2007) and Daniel Sunjata in Take Me Out (directed by Joe Mantello, 2002). The celebrity’s nudity" becomes the main (marketing) focus of the production. In the UK, there are even specific websites which provide full reports on the extent of stage nudity such as the http://partially-obstructed-view.blogspot.co.uk.

Collective voyeurism: When the audience is sharing the performance experience with other audience members (hen-night parties watching Naked Boys Singing), as opposed to single-member audience experiences and one-to-one performances.

Complicit voyeurism: When the audience is forced to observe

a moment of violence involving nudity and humiliation and is

un able to intervene (for example, the rape scene in A Street Car

Named Desire [1947], or in the shower scene in Take me Out).

Compulsive voyeurism: When audience members revisit repeatedly a specific production because of its nudity or sexual content. It might also take the form of filming the show during the performance in order to upload it later for repeated viewing.

Emotional voyeurism: When the audience witnesses an intense

scene where a character on stage removes all layers of protection

and is left emotionally naked in the narrative (for example, King

Lear’s final speech).

Explicit voyeurism: When the audience observes explicit sexual

acts within the narrative (a strip show, Salome’s ‘Dance of the

Seven Veils’ in Salome [1891] or a sex show), or when technological devices are inserted inside the performers to present the inner

workings of their organs (for example, Castellucci’s Julius Caesar

[1997]).

Furtive voyeurism: When the audience sees a fleeting moment of

the character’s nudity where the character makes an attempt to

hide the nudity (because of guilt, embarrassment or humiliation),

but is still seen by the audience (for example, the shower scene in

Kes [1976]).

Implicit voyeurism: When the audience observes nudity which is

either suggested behind gauze or is dimly lit and is more imagined

than actually seen.

Intellectual voyeurism: When the audience is a step ahead with

the thinking of the characters and can see what will happen to the

narrative or to the story ahead of the character (this can be the case in biographical dramas, for example Piaf [1978]).

Intimate voyeurism: When the audience is in close proximity with

the performer or in a one-to-one exchange (for example, You Me

Bum Bum Train [2004] and Punchdrunk’s Sleep No More [2011]).

Naked voyeurism: When the audience is required to be naked in viewing the performance (for example, in the infamous Naked Brunch [2010] cabaret performance and its non-negotiable audience nudity http://edinburghfestival.list.co.uk/event/ 10003889-the-naked-brunch).

Pathological voyeurism: When the voyeuristic activity becomes

active and audience members are actually masturbating during a

performance.

Scopophilic voyeurism: When the audience has an excessive interest watching the performers in everyday (non-sexual) scenes, acts of violence and privacy

As in the cases of traditional voyeurism, the theatrical voyeur ‘seeks

no contact with the observed individual’ (Kaplan and Krueger in

Laws and O’Donohue 1997: 297), and pleasure or ‘gratification may

be received from looking instead of participating’ (1997: 298)"

Notes:

Thinking on self and image, alongside recent performances where I adopt the costume of icon Marilyn Monroe: I believe there is something to be inspected regarding celebrity & public culture/social media, and voyeurism.

In a way, as social media users we are all voyeurs, gaining pleasure from insights into others lives- whether sexually explicit or not.

This could be defined as emotional voyeurism (see above), when exposed to say an emotional post on social media, discovering more about an individual than you usually would given your personal distance, or unfamiliarity.

Does the term voyeurism require a sexual response from the voyeur, or could the term be applied to other non-sexual pleasurable responses?

I am also interested in voyeurism in terms of the performer and the theatre (or now perhaps the performer and the screen/cinema, or furthermore the performer-self and social media).

Social media could be sort of defined as a display of 'performer-selves', performing for both themself and the ego, as well as for the pleasure of viewers.

There is also something interesting that I have observed, in the change of social media use between the Instagram Millennial generation (highly curated, often luxury influencers) and now the emerging Generation Z scene, in which the preference is for 'noncurated' 'real' or relaxed posts. A push against the certain fake-ness of Influencer culture, and a craving for 'real' connection.

Perhaps this could then be defined as a craving for emotional voyeurism, for the audience to feel as if they have a more honest connection and understanding of the user/performer. Even though ultimately, all social media is curated and not entirely real.

[CONTINUED]

Theatrical Voyerism [Voyerism in the theatre environment]:

"Robert Leach agrees, by stating that ‘the situation licenses voyeurism: in the special circumstances of the theatre, in the privacy of the darkened auditorium, the individual may indulge in the “gaze”, which is impossible in most social situations’"

Notes:

This could be something interesting to work with! The idea that when the lights come down (cinema/live theatre), the viewer is positioned as voyeur. They are hidden, and their privacy is advanced in a public setting.

I am reminded of this scene from David Lynch's Twin Peaks:

youtube

ALSO: Would like to think further on the exploitation of icons/celebrities. Particularly around the estates of dead celebrities. People so far removed from personal identity that their image continues to make money for decades after their death:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/marisadellatto/2023/10/30/highest-paid-dead-celebrities-2023-michael-jackson-elvis-presley-whitney-houston/

- In 2023, the estate of Marilyn Monroe made 10million USD off her image. Monroe continues to be exploited even beyond her death.

#Youtube

0 notes

shoot-the-oneshot · 2 years

Text

Call sign Guardian angle

Requested by Anon “we have to stop meeting like this.”

Brock Reynolds x reader

You just so happened to be walking past the command room when you over heard bravos team leader call for air extraction, “negative Bravo 1, to many tangos in the air the helicopter wont get cleared for take off you’ll have to exfil on foot.” Davis informed over coms. “We are surrounded we need air support now!” Jasons anger could be heard even over the choppy radio, you knew it wasn’t your place and not your call but you’ve covered Bravo team from the air multiple times, you even assisted them on your first solo air strike,

so to say you had a soft spot for that team wouldn’t be far off. With a curse you stepped through the open door your flight suit standing out against the room of blue camo, “If I can provide cover for their helicopters would that get them cleared?” You asked making the room freeze around you, Bravos commander reached over Davis and spoke into the radio, “Stand by Bravo 1.” Then turned his attention to you, his eyes raking over your suit no doubt looking for a team patch or anything that would give up who you were only finding your top gun patch and call sign. “provide cover how? You are aware they are deep in enemy territory correct?” To which you shrugged your shoulders you were used to being in hostile environments, well over them anyways. Taking a step closer holding your hand out to introduce yourself, but someone beat you to it. “Lieutenant Y/n Y/l/n call sign Guardian, shes a fighter pilot,saved our asses a few times too”, Davis chimed in sending you a wink she knew exactly who you were and how a certain member of Bravo felt hearing your voice in the field, this was however her first time meeting you in person, “My jet is still on the runway it would take one call to go back up” you pushed, “a fighter jet is harder to get cleared than a fleet of Helios while we appreciate your help it would take to long,” Blackburn said, Turing back to his team to find another way to get his men out. “Good thing I’m better at asking for forgiveness than permission!” You yelled out, already making your way back to your jet. By the position of it you could tell Davis called and told the crew the plan. Pulling your steps down and climbing up pulling your helmet back on and getting situated again. “Havoc to Guardian do you read?” You heard over the coms her voice much different to the tower you were used to. “Guardian to havoc read you loud and clear,” you watched and waited until the ground crew waved you on. “Guardian Cleared for take off, Helio 13 cleared for take off,” the tower called feeling the rumble of your engine through your body would never get old always pulling a smile to your face, nothing would ever beat the feeling of being in the air just you and your jet, steering the joystick to line up with the runway, throwing a salute to the crew as always. Pushing the throttle you launched off the deck into the air banking hard left wing pointed down to the sea below and the other the sky as you made a flyby the communication room, Blackburn and Davis watching through the window, “fighter pilots always making risky moves.” Seeing you no furthers than twenty inches from the ship, “it seemed risky is just what we needed,” Davis stated before calling to update the team, “All bravo callsigns we have Air exfil inbound.”

“How’d that get cleared I thought we were on our own?” Clay asked Jason the team hunkered down behind cover taking shots through the windows of the house they were hiding In. The enemy hadn’t let up and he doubted they just changed their minds. “I don’t know.’ Havoc repeat your last?” The boys sat waiting throwing he occasional frag when the shooters outside got to close. “Air exfil and support in bound, Oh and Bravo five your going to love this.” Davis could be keep the smile out of her voice, the team turned to Brock, who had no idea what she meant, if this was just air support you would already be screaming across the sky to the team in distress but you were just playing defense today so you followed close behind the chopper your radar scanning the sky for any tangos. “Guardian to havoc can you patch me through to bravo?” You spoke through your headset, “affirmative patching you through.” “Good morning Bravo team your saving grace is two mikes out.”

“Angel?” “Bravo 5, We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”Hearing your voice Brock lets out a chuckle, he was the one to give you your call sign on your first op he called you the teams guardian angle and guardian stuck ever since, unless Bravo was around. the team knowing you were close started cracking on Brock, “uh oh angles are singing boys,” Clay who was new had no idea who you were. “Who are we talking about?” Before they could respond your voice cut through again “Havoc am I allowed to shoot at these guys or strictly intimidation?” Brock couldn’t help but smile a bit you hadn’t changed while he had never met you outside of coms he knew his little crush had grown just a bit. “Negative on the shooting Guardian.”

‘Alright alright’ you spoke to yourself coming up on the village Bravo was hiding in. flying as low as you could you dove down the side of the three story building and flew over the trucks the shooters were hiding behind. The shock and jet wash was enough to make them tuck tail and run giving bravo team enough time to reach the helicopter that landed behind the building. “That’s who we’re talking about” Sonny shouted to Clay to be heard over the helicopter rotors and your engine. “Guardian say hello to blondie Aka Clay Spencer.” Clay looked out the helicopter looking for the jet coming off empty until you rolled to the side from underneath completing a full roll around them. “Nice to meet you Clay,” waving to the team from your cockpit, moving to fly ahead of the helio, the team was confused normally you disappeared as quick as you showed up but you were staying right with them, “Hey pilot, why is she staying with us?” Sonny asked, Brock paying more attention than he was before, wondering the same thing. “She’s stationed on the ship,” hearing this Sonny snapped his head over to Brock, “well lookie here you might get the chance to meet your girl,” he didn’t even know your name and now he was supposed to just walk up to you, and say what? “Havoc to guardian, we have a blimp on your radar do you read,” taking a look at the radar you spot the blimp “Copy havoc going to investigate.” Brocks heart skipped a beat hearing this of course exfil was to easy, he just wished he was in a position to help if you needed it.

Pulling your nose up letting the wind push you up and over the helicopter (the gif above) rolling back over, the blimp getting closer they were flying the same altitude as the helio so you went up to 25,000 feet since you were so close to the Blackhawk you doubt they even knew you were there and that’s exactly how you want to keep it. “Havoc I have eyes it’s Pakistan military want me to engage?” Going inverted being hidden by the clouds above them. “We will try and make contact do not engage until we give the clear.”

You knew they would only let you play if they shot first or followed to close to the ship you just had to stalk and wait, “Blackhawk increase speed see if you can shake them.” As you expected they sped up keeping pace with your helicopter, you were about to hit open water the time to strike ticking down. “Havoc to Guardian Pakistani military refuse to fall back until we tell him why we are here, if they get within three miles of the ship you’re clear to engage.” Moving into position behind the foreign helicopter watching the distance until you can make your move. “Copy havoc waiting to engage.” Unfortunately you couldn’t just shoot a missile out and call it a day, they weren’t expecting a fighter jet nor do they have the weapons to fight one so unless they have a suicide mission the bogey will back off just have to wait and one more second. The alarm in your jet goes off signaling the set danger zone. Being pressed back into your seat you dropped below the helicopter shooting back up right in front of their nose forcing them to swing wide to avoid contact. Back on the Blackhawk Bravo team was watching your dogfight like a movie “Woah Brock I might have to steal her for myself you think she likes Texas barbecue? Ouch Ray!” Sonny rubbed his arm where Ray whacked him even Cerberus was watching the in air action. Taking more dives at their aircraft forcing them to turn back towards land. Getting closer when they tried to turn back towards the water. ‘Alright play time is over’ you said to yourself, lining up the missile lock knowing an alarm would go off letting them know they were about to be in checkmate, after a good second they backed off and headed back to land. Doing a few more passes to make sure they weren’t circling back you spun back taking your spot next to the hovering Blackhawk. Laughing as you saw bravo celebrating inside, giving your own fist bump into the air. “Air is clear havoc requesting to land” making the lap around the aircraft carrier lining up with the strip to land your body jerking as you caught the band slowing your jet to a hard stop. Going through your post flight checks with the crew you just barely saw bravo team being ushered off the deck to debrief. Only locking eyes with the tallest one for a second before he disappears. It was after your own debrief and light scolding that you were walking back to your room, being stopped by a dog running through the hallway and stopping at your feet looking up at you with big brown puppy dog eyes. “Why hello cutie” dropping to your knees running your fingers through his fur laughing as he licked your chin, “Cerberus!” Someone yelled and wouldn’t you know its the same guy you saw on deck, he visibly released a breath seeing the dog with you. “Thank god I though he’d be half way to the kitchen by now.” He spoke making his way over grabbing the dogs collar but not pulling him away from you letting you continue to pet him. “Well if he did make it there I’m sure he’d have no problems getting whatever he wanted, wouldn’t you cutie pie.” The last part you spoke in your puppy dog voice. Behind Brock Bravo team was peaking around the corner watching the interaction, “Does he seriously not know its her? Ray come on even the dog knew let me call dibs on her.” Sonny begged, making Ray hit him again. “Relax Sonny he’ll figure it out.” Ray at least hoped he would.

Cerberus had moved from the floor to crawling in your lap forcing you to fall back against the wall not that you minded at all, making small talk with his handler Davis walked passed bravo huddled around the corner, “why in the world are y’all crowding the hallway?” “We are watching Brock and Guardian.” At Clays explanation Sonny huffed, “more like watching him tank it with her.” Davis shook her head. What would these boys do without her. Strolling past the operators, “Hey Guardian, nice flying thanks again for helping us get these guys out of trouble.” She said giving Brock a firm pat on the back, knowing it finally clicked when his eyes widened. “No problem anytime,” giving you a nod of her head goodbye she walked past turning around frantically pointing at you behind your back. “It’s her!” She mouthed, “I didn’t know you were bravo.” You said noticing the matching patches on his shirt and the dogs vest quickly assuming that’s their unit patch. “And you didn’t tell me you were my angel.” You could feel the blush crawling up your cheeks. “You know my official call sign is Guardian right, you’re the only one that calls me angel.”

Even though he knew he didn’t have a right to he felt a sense of possessiveness flood him, good he should be the only one who gets to call you that. You peeked around Brock to see Bravo duck back behind the wall, with a laugh you stood giving Cerberus a final pet behind the ears. “Looks like your team is waiting for you, Don’t be a stranger Bravo 5.” You winked, waving to the team that was trying to act nonchalant as you passed. The second you were out of sight they swarmed Brock who was telling Cerberus what a good boy he was leading him to you. “So what happened?” Looking at his team leader with a lovestruck look, “I’m never leaving this boat.”

Bravo team was off for a few days waiting for the target package to get cleared while word didn’t slow down for you, you did find yourself spending your free time with Bravo, and Brock. It was weird getting to know the teams you saved you knew next time you’d be even more worried knowing your friends were the ones down there putting personalities to a unit was dangerous, but you don’t regret it.

“Not that we don’t love having you slum with us why haven’t you invited any of your hot fighter pilots to join us?” Sonny asked, you were all playing rounds of call of duty in their little living room area they had it was the last day they had on the carrier you can admit you were going to miss them maybe one more than the others, Brock glared at him from beside you even cerb picked his head up of your lap to give the man a look. “Well Sonny we don’t really hang out like you guys do.” Now that got Jasons attention the team was everything to them he couldn’t imagine doing it alone, “Why not?”

“It’s more of a constant competition between pilots we don’t lets lose around each other,” you shrugged missing the look they all had, the next day you had another mission, just a simple strike and come back, you were on the deck doing preflight check with the crew. Just as you were about to climb in you heard your name being shouted, confused you turned around you saw Bravo team with their bags packed early, you had all said goodbye last night since you were supposed to be gone when they left, “What are you guys still doing here?” You reached down to pet Cerb who pulled against the leash Brock held to rub against your legs, “We had something we wanted to give you.” Jason said reaching out and patting your arm sticking something there, yo looked down at what once was an empty Velcro square was now covered with a Bravo patch, “We wanted you to know that we think of you as one of our own, that you always have a place with us at home or outside the wire.”

Taking a breath you swallowed the lump in your throat only being able to nod in thanks or your emotions would get the best of you, walking to the helicopter waiting for them each member took a turn saying goodbye again and patting the patch on your arm signifying they agreed with Jasons words, “Be safe up there girly, give em hell, death via Bravo from the sky!” Sonny shouted pointing to the sky making you and Brock who was the last one laugh at his antics, “so.” You dragged out, “so” Brock had a whole speech he wanted to say but the second he looked into your eyes he forgot every last word. Settling for a hug he wrapped you in his arms squeezing you tight, “I’m gonna miss you angel.” Sighing falling deeper into his chest, “I’ll miss you too, Bravo 5,” giving him one more smile you pulled away knowing the tower wouldn’t be happy if you were late taking off. You watched Brock walk away until he turned back and shouted “My number is sewn on the back of that patch so you don’t lose it!” Laughing and slightly giddy like a school girl who’s crush just asked you out you climbed in your jet. Fastening your belt you caught a glimpse of the patch, you didn’t thing anything could feel better then being in your jet but this time it felt that much sweeter. “Tower to Guardian you’re clear for take off.” With the go ahead you launched your jet off the deck and into the air ending up beside the Blackhawk oh how things have changed since your escort. The guys beating their fist in the air and a few against the patch that matched your new one. Giving your own a tap you dipped your wing twice as a final wave and shot off to your mission disappearing from sight. Normally you lived for work but with your newfound family maybe you’ll have something else to live for.

One year later

“And then the jet came flying over you could hear it coming a mile away” Sonny told the kids making fake jet noises to add to his storytelling a hand mimicking the maneuvers. It was a get together at Rays house everyone from Bravo was there including you, tucked under Brocks arm and cerb stuck to you on the other side feeling like the most protected person in the world stuck between two tier one seals that wouldn’t let anything happen to you, hell a whole team that wouldn’t and you felt that same about you them. “He’s told that story to everyone on base.” Brock whispered in your ear. “Well is a cool story sounds like an amazing pilot to pull that off.” You teased, making him let out a low chuckle nodding along. “Oh it was the best story, and that pilot is a special one. And Sonny is missing the best part excuse me.” Giving you a quick kiss he rushed to the other side of the fire joining in on the story pushing Sonny out of the way, “that story is cool but a even cooler one is how she got the name angle” as Brock launched into the story of your unofficial call sign you couldn’t help but look around and think how much things changed and how glad you were that you happened to walk passed havoc that faithful day.

#seal team imagine #seal team x reader #brock reynolds imagine #Brock Reynolds x reader #clay spenser x reader #clay spencer imagine #sonny quinn imagine #sonny Quinn x reader #Brock x reader #Jason Hayes x reader #sealteam imagine #sealteam x reader

268 notes · View notes

imaginingyourfandom · 3 years

Text

SUMMARY: Finding out that Clay has been in touch with Stella again and being worried that the friendship could be more

You weren’t sure what to think. You loved and trusted Clay more than anything but you did get insecure and you were worried you would lose him so you didn’t say anything. Clay had unfortunately seen the change in you, he couldn’t understand why you were ignoring him and shrugged him off everything he tried to kiss or hold you.

“What’s going on with you? You barely talk to me and you refuse to let me touch you. Talk to me.” He pleaded.

You knew this was coming, you hated the fact that he knew you so well but you weren’t sure what to say. You and Clay had always had an open policy and could tell each other anything but how do you tell the love of your life that your worried his ex-girlfriend is going to steal him away?

“It’s nothin, I’m just stressed.” You sighed, hoping to avoid the conversation but obviously Clay was not ready to let it go, God he could be so stubborn.

Clay shook his head, “No, there is something. Please just talk to me.” God you hated his face sometimes.

“I love you, more than anything and the last thing I want is to lose you. Why didn’t you tell me you were back in contact with Stella?” You questioned softly. You trusted him with your life but you knew Stella was someone that he really cared about, even after she broke up with him and you didn’t want to lose him.

Clay exhaled, “She was actually helping me with something. I don’t have many female friends that I’m comfortable sharing with so I reached out to her to help with a surprise, a surprise for you. Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?”

“I’m sorry.” You broke down as Clay wrapped his arms around you. You hated that a small part of you doubted him and worried that he would leave.

He pressed a kiss to your head, “I’m sorry. I should have told I was talking to her again. I never want you to doubt my intentions, I want to be with you. You make me so happy, happier than I have ever been. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough because you mean the world to me.”

“You mean the world to me too.” You softly replied.

He looked down at you, “Good because there’s something I want to show you.”

“What?”

“It’s a surprise.”

#seal team #seal team imagine #clay spenser #clay spencer imagine #imaginingyourfandom

108 notes · View notes

atlaese · 3 years

Text

like a satellite, just look for me - m.m.

summary: Matt Murdock is a work of art you can't resist. pairing: gn!artist!reader x matt murdock tw: fluff, established relationship, mention of food, just me being in my feels bc hello, matthew!! words: 2K a/n: i wrote down this concept and then @sleepless-spencer sent in a very similar concept the day after! i hope you like the direction i took it in :) also; title comes from the song Satellite by Maggie Rogers! truly beautiful song. satellites don't have a sound in space, but they do emit waves, which i thought was very fitting for our highly sensitive vigilante! also, some artists made an exhibit of how satellites would sound to our human ears and it's just a nice thought that maybe matt is the only one that can 'translate' your waves into feelings :'). yes i think too much lol.

p.s. dividers by @firefly-graphics p.p.s. i now have a library blog! follow @aeristhotle to get notified when i update!

reblogs and feedback are appreciated ✨💗

matt murdock masterlist | marvel/cm masterlists

Expressing your emotions through art had always been a part of you. It started when you were just a kid. Where others would play in the sandbox or jump on the monkey bars, your tiny hands were modelling a piece of clay to look like a pointy star with little details that most adults thought were made by an artist. Then weeks later, you had made so many little stars that the teacher helped you hang them up in the back of the class, creating little constellations that appeared in your imagination.

As you grew older, art wasn’t limited to modelling clay figurines anymore. You picked up some brushes and paints one day, a few days after a block of clay was delivered and then a week after you got a second-hand reflex camera to haul around the city. Some weeks, sculpting was the only thing that could satiate the craving deep inside your soul. The craving that made your art so tangible and made others feel so many things at once, from being unsettled to being comforted that you weren’t alone in feeling a certain way.

Lately, painting had taken over your every thought (and the majority of the apartment you shared with Matt). There was something about transforming the blank canvas into a piece with colours - a two-dimensional print of your emotions and feelings.

Matt had learned to appreciate the smell of paint that stuck to your skin. It was like you had developed your own brand of cologne or perfume and decided to bottle it in a tiny flask that resembled the shape he thought your love looked like.

He knew exactly what you were doing by just concentrating on the smell once he turned around the corner to the apartment building. Whenever you were painting, there was a heavy scent of turpentine that stuck to your palms and subsequently, every surface you touched would have a slight whiff of it.

However, you had received some acrylic paints from an unknowing friend, and their heavy ammoniac scent clung to your hair, clothes and it clung to your skin as if you had showered in it, making him feel so nauseous sometimes that you stopped painting altogether for over six months.

Then, one day, after you had bought new supplies, he detected a very faint, new scent that hung around the cupboard where you stored your supplies. Matt hadn’t asked what was different - he guessed you’d just gotten some new colours to stain the clay vases you were making for a friend.

But then that day, it finally clicked.

There was no more heavy scent of ammoniac that enveloped the apartment, instead, there was a slight walnutty scent to be found. Some of your paints had a slight whiff of lavender, while others just smelled a tiny bit like rosemary. He guessed every colour had a slightly different smell, and it just made him love you more as he realized that you were trying to visualize your two-dimensional art for him.

You claimed the paint just felt better when you stroked it over the canvas, however, he knew that was not the only reason.

That evening, when the night had already fallen and you were cleaning off the paint from your brushes, softly humming to whatever song was stuck in your head, he could smell the scent of dark red plum. It had notes of deep violet, bitter yet sweet. It tasted like how he imagined Hell’s Kitchen to be on the changeover from summer to fall.

Your humming only intensified the closer he got and he caught himself slowing down to keep enjoying the sound from your voice. He tapped his cane to the beat you were setting, a content smile on his face at the feeling of your happiness.

Matt closed the door behind him and put his cane against the wall, dropping his keys in the little ceramic bowl you had made a few months ago.

“How was your day?” you asked him, speaking on a normal level as Matt turned around the corner to the kitchen.

“Was able to get ms. Nowicki full custody over her kids,” his voice travelled closer to you, until his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, his front pressing against your back as he inhaled your scent. “And she promised to bring us some babka tomorrow, so I’ll try to save you a piece.”

“Matt, that’s amazing! Alina and Nikolai were so sweet when they waited in your office. I think Nikolai really liked the clay sculpture I made for decoration,” you recounted when you were doing some paperwork in his office. You turned your cheek slightly so Matt’s scruffy one could slide against it, his musky scent enveloping you. “Try is the keyword there, I know Foggy will defend that babka with his life.”

“He adores you, darling,” Matt murmured, pressing a kiss against your cheek before letting you go again. “I’m sure ms. Nowicki will have made enough babka for everyone and their families.”

“I got something for you, too, by the way,” you softly announced, leaving the brushes in the sink to dry. “You remember that piece I told you about, right?”

“The one you are so secretive about that you won’t even describe the colours?” he mused, a soft smirk on his lips as you lightly tapped his chest in retaliation. He simply laughed at your gesture and pulled his tie a bit looser with one finger.

“I can’t hide anything from you if I don’t!” you countered. “You should save listening to the heartbeats of people you’re questioning, not your partner.”

“And where would be the fun in that?”

“You’re a menace,” you threatened, grabbing onto his bicep to guide him to where your easel stood close to the window. Both of you knew he didn’t need the guidance at all, let alone in his own apartment, but an opportunity to closely hold onto him was something you’d never refuse. And Matt really liked how you wrapped both your arms around his arm, too.

“So, you want to tell me what we’re looking at now?” he asked, angling his face down a bit to stress his question.

“No.”

His brow rose up in the air, not expecting you to deny his request for you to describe your artwork to him. You had never done that before either. Usually, you were giddy with excitement to explain why you used a certain colour and what meaning it had. What was different now?

“I don’t follow, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes nervously shooting around, his senses hyper-focused on every little move you made, every breath you took, the way your chest expanded and contracted, your heartbeat that was still the steady rhythm that was a baseline for him to calm down.

“Here,” you unwrapped yourself from his bicep and grabbed his hand instead and guided it to the middle of the canvas. “Tell me what you feel.”

Matt delicately traced his digits over the canvas, not expecting anything but a smooth surface. However, as his fingers softly dusted over the top, there was a slight bump of thicker paint.

Matt softly gasped, unable to process that you made visual art tangible to him. It was such an unexpected surprise to him, as paintings were something that was usually off-limits to him.

“What- what’s it exactly?” his voice broke the delicate silence. “I feel lines and corners and bends and- and…”

“You got it,” you mused, scanning his face and taking in all the little movements his eyes made, how he quickly furrowed his brow and relaxed it again. His fingers, trembling just a bit too much as they tried to figure out what exactly you had painted.

“I know this?” he asked, more a statement than a question as he put both his hands on the canvas as if he’s trying to trace the braille instead of trying to figure out what you had painted.

“Okay, I’ll give a hint,” you smiled as you slid your arms around his waist, cuddling close to him and basking in his body heat. “You really love it.”

“I fail to see how these lines could be translated into a portrait of you,” he said, a smirk audible in his voice as you sighed deeply and rested your forehead against his back.

“Matt,” you groaned, dragging out his name as you felt his chest vibrate with laughter.

“Okay, okay, just give me a minute,” he tapped on your hands with his fingers, then returning them to the canvas, continuing his journey.

Then, for the first time in his life, Matt was speechless. There was something lodged in his throat, preventing him from speaking. Was it his heart, crawling up the cavity of his chest, wanting to put itself on a silver platter, just because you did the impossible? Because you gave him back a piece of his vision that he thought was forever lost?

As his fingers continued to trace the many lines that were slightly elevated from the canvas, because of the thickness of the paint, he felt himself getting more emotional. The lines felt so familiar because they resembled a map of the city he loved the dearest.

Hell’s kitchen was a neighbourhood he knew like the back of his hand, he literally knew how to navigate it blindly.

And you had made it into a painting.

A few weeks ago, he had explained to you how he navigated around the many corners, bends, rooftops and fire stairs that made up Hell’s Kitchen. He had explained how certain scents lingered on rooftops, how he heard the creaking of water towers of buildings, how the air tasted when the seasons were changing.

You had translated it all into a piece of art, a piece of art you made for him, about him, about him and the complex relationship he had with the city he grew up in.

“It’s- it’s magnificent,” he softly uttered, his hands glued to the canvas as his voice was the most delicate you had ever heard. “I can’t believe you made this.”

“Well you know, you deserve magnificent things, Matt,” you uttered, resting your chin on his shoulder, watching his fingers discovering the painting. “For everything you do for this city. Everything you do for me.”

It was silent for a second as Matt processed everything that had just happened. From the reveal of the painting to your words that solidified all the feelings, he had for you even more.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking as his brown eyes grew glassy. His hands moved from the painting to your face, softly caressing your cheekbones as he delicately pressed his lips against yours.

His hands cradled your face so softly, still shivering a bit from all the sensations that were just bared to him as he tried his best to convey his every feeling into the kiss.

“This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me,” he breathed out after he pulled away, his hands not leaving your face as you pressed another small kiss to the palm of his hand. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whispered back, matching the smile on his face as his arms snuck around you and pulled you in an intimate embrace.

You two were so in step with each other, like a moon orbiting around a planet, always pulling at each other, making sure the other was always in range, even when the other was pulled into the dark side. You’d always make sure they’d come out at the other side, back into the light and warmth. Back to you.

#matt murdock reader insert #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock blurb #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock #daredevil fic #daredevil blurb #daredevil imagine #daredevil #marvel’s daredevil #mcu #marvel

749 notes · View notes

queer-whatchamacallit · 2 years

Text

Hotch headcanons except it’s probably going to mostly be regarding the tism

Hotch was diagnosed a lot later in life

He saw in Spencer’s file that he’s autistic, so he gave him the accommodations he needed but didn’t really think anything of it

By the time they’d worked together for a year or two, Hotch became very aware that Spencer was incredibly similar to the way Hotch was when he was Spencer’s age

Again, time passed and he didn’t think these two things were connected

That is until the team deals with a bomber, Hotch is a little too close to the blast of the unsub’s last hoorah, and he ends up in the hospital

Hotch wakes up and Spencer is in the room with him at the time

He quickly discovered that his injuries make it painful to walk, but pacing is way he reduces stress/ holds off meltdowns he doesn’t know are meltdowns

And so, Hotch has a meltdown but Spencer helps him through it

Later that day, when Hotch has had plenty of time to calm down, Spencer asked Hotch about considering if he was also autistic

That lead to the slow journey of Hotch discovering his being autistic and trying to be more comfortable in showing autistic traits as well as getting a diagnosis

It isn’t exactly a new concept that Hotch masks 24/7, even when he’s completely alone

All of his suits are from the same brands, and with the bit of extra weight of suit jacket, they’re super comfortable and familiar to him

Loosening his tie actually tends to make him more uncomfortable and uptight because how he expects his suit to feel is just slightly different

He likes to cook sometimes, but he’s absolutely atrocious at it

Even if he has a recipe, something often miraculously happens to go wrong

By the time he cooks whatever it was with Penelope, he’s definitely better, but that was right around the limit of his abilities to not mess it up

Penelope is also autistic, and he loves being in the same space as her

Outside of work-related things, his self esteem is a little lacking

A combination of an abusive father and undiagnosed autism definitely played a part in this

Penelope is one of the few people he feels like he can keep a fun conversation going with

Since he met Haley, he’s never not been amazed by how beautiful she is

Before Hotch became unit chief and got too sucked into his work, he’d call Haley when he woke up and when he got back to his hotel room

These were often very short because of the time difference, and some of Hotch’s fondest memories are talking to Haley for a minute or two each morning while she’s probably so close to just falling back asleep that she likely wouldn’t remember them

They were the sappiest couple you could possibly imagine

He joined the bau at 27 and was instantly dubbed the “silent killer” by Rossi because he was a pretty quiet person with horrifyingly good aim

In Ldsk, he showed off his shooting a little, but he would have been able to the same thing before he even joined the Seattle field office

He went hunting with his father a lot as a kid, and he just always had a knack for it

Jack is autistic and Hotch tries to do everything in his power to raise him how he wished he’d been raised, with support

Hotch tends to be more sensory seeking except for textures

Suede and corduroy are his least favorite of those he would predictably encounter again

He took a pottery class as a high school freshman, but dropped it after a week because the feeling of clay almost made him gag when he first touched it

His interoception is not good whatsoever

He lost a lot of weight in college because he didn’t realize that meal routines were very helpful to him, and he’d just forget to eat something for a day or two

When he was 24, there was about an hour until a trial was going to start and he passed out from dehydration

He’s really bad at telling when an injury is serious because of his sense of pain being out of whack, but he’d still keep going even if he did feel it correctly

Hotch is actually someone who feels more than he can handle about things, but it doesn’t really show outwardly

He loves hugs, and he’s very grateful that most of the team is his size so they can give hugs that have a good amount of strength in them

The only problem is that never in his life would Hotch have the courage to ask someone for a hug

Penelope often asks to hug him because she can just sense those types of things

He’s allergic to cats but he’s fully considering getting a sphinx cat

And also he has a strawberry allergy because I’ve seen it before and it just feels right

You could infer from both the show and what I said earlier, but Hotch hates hospital even if he does like the hospital smell

And that is my long list of things I’d like to believe are true about my guy

Edit: thank you so much for 100 notes guys!!

#criminal minds #cm #aaron hotchner #autistic aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #haley brooks #autism headcanon #the tism #the ‘tism #headcanons #the special interest half: criminal minds

203 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | Chapter two

Chapter Two

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 6k

a/n: this is set May 2021 in my brain just in case anyone was wondering while reading it !! here is the pinterest board and the spotify playlist for the fic too!

from the beginning <3

They were sitting on the steps of the Smithsonian when he arrived. Y/N was a vision in a yellow blouse and blue jeans, basking in the sun's rays when she looked more like sunshine herself, throwing seed at the birds with Amoreena.

He took a deep breath and smiled, waving to get their attention.

“Spencer!” Amoreena cheered, running down the steps and into his arms. Almost knocking her hat off as she leapt into his arms.

“Oof,” is all he can say as he makes sure to catch her, surprised to get this sort of reaction from someone.

She fixes her hat and leans back in his arms, “do you like my outfit? I’m the old man from Tarzan and mom is Jane!”

He sets her down then, watching her stick a foot out so he can get a good look at her olive-coloured jean shorts, button-up shirt and blue bowtie and brown boots. She went all out for her adventure today, making his heart burst.

“I looked into that Milo guy,” he says, showing off his own outfit. Pushing his glasses up and adjusting his red bowtie.

“You look just like him!!!” She was beyond excited, turning to Y/N who was all smiles on the steps.

She stood as they walked towards her, “mom look, he’s Milo!”

“You look great,” she complimented him, that twinkle in her eyes back as she blushed.

“Thank you, so do you,” he said softly. “Both of you are dressed for the right adventure today.”

“What do you have in store Mr. tour guide?” Y/N teased, taking Amoreena’s hand and walking into the museum.

“Dr. Tour guide,” he corrects her softly, making her smile and shove him lightly.

“Sorry,” she teased him, “Doctor tour guide, what is your plan for today?”

“I bought 3 tickets ahead of time,” Spencer admits, taking three lanyards out of his jacket pocket and handing them each one. “We have special access today, just show the guards these and we can go almost anywhere.”

“Are you sure you don’t work here? Not even undercover?” Amoreena interrogated him, narrowing her eyes as she watched his response.

He laughed, “I promise, I helped them on a case once, and my old boss knows the curator, they owed me a favour.”

“Old boss?” Y/N catches it.

He nods lightly, “he quit a while ago to have a family.”

“Smart man.”

“I sent in my letter of resignation last night,” he adds, “if you’re still looking for a literary historian?”

She beamed at him, reaching out an arm to tuck under his and pull him in close. Following him through the doors with Amoreena’s hand still in hers. “I’ll arrange an interview this week.”

The rotunda was one of the coolest parts of the Smithsonian Museum of National History. A beautiful African Bush Elephant greets them in the centre, tusks extending out towards them as Amoreena gasps.

“Wow,” her small voice whispers.

“Cool, huh?” Spencer leans to look at her expression, she’s absolutely gobsmacked.

It makes him smile, that beautiful glimmer of amazement spreading across her face as her small brain tries to understand what exists in the world outside of her mind's grasp. It was priceless, he loved every moment.

“So, I was thinking you could look around and whenever you’re ready, we have access to the Student Centre. You’re going to get to look at some special bones and fossils, and even dig some up!” He was so excited to share the plans with her.

She let go of her mom's hand to flap her arms wildly, excitement coursing through her veins as she shook, grinding her teeth together as she smiled, it was how he remembered feeling as a child when something good happened. Pure joy, excitement level 1000.

“Sound good?”

“Spencer,” Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder, taking over for the speechless child, “that sounds perfect, thank you.”

“The Dino’s are this way,” he leads them down the corridor, through a set of doors towards a large swirling sign,

“Journey through deep time!” Y/N read the sign, smiling at Amoreena as she ran towards it, touching the swirl as she read all the words to herself.

“It’s so sad they died,” Amoreena says so matter of factly that it makes him bite back a smile.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a small laugh. Y/N's shaking her head with a sigh of pure love. “What kind of dinosaur is your favourite?”

“The Jurassic era,” she responds, standing closer to the sign and reading all the words. “Did you know the earth used to be mostly desert? There was a massive heatwave, that’s why they believe dinosaurs were most likely scaled but thanks to the melting ice caps as we recover from the ice age and move back towards being tropical, we’re discovering dinosaurs frozen in ice with feathers and fur!”

It takes his breath away, seeing someone so much like him with a mother who loves every single word that leaves her mouth. Pride on her face as she looks at her little genius and back towards Spencer, waiting for his response.

“So you’ve been a paleontologist this whole time and you never told me?”

She laughs and swats the air, “no, I just read a lot of books.”

“She can read really fast, like Matilda,” Y/N bragged.

“I do too,” Spencer knelled down in front of her. “It’s a very wonderful thing to have a brain as big and magical as ours, never let anyone tell you otherwise okay?”

“Never, I’m the smartest in the kingdom,” Amoreena smiled.

“Yes, she is,” Y/N smiled again, placing her hand on Spencer's back as they continued to walk around the exhibits.

He felt like he had a family, like one of those couples who would go to Ikea and pretend they lived in the sets. This was the most perfect make-believe day of his life, leading a child just like him through a world of things she loved.

Y/N was quiet most of the day, watching them interact with a soft smile and sad eyes. Spencer noticed it but let it slide, he’d ask her about it later when she could be honest with him. He didn’t want to profile her, it wasn’t fair to judge her before he knew her, nor taint the fantastical thoughts he already had about her.

They had lunch in the butterfly exhibit, sitting at the seat by the fountain, Amoreena asking nicely if Spencer could sit in the middle so they could both talk to him. It was adorable, Amoreena was so intrigued by his mind she couldn’t stop asking him questions.

Y/N made him a sandwich and brought him a water bottle, as well as bringing some apple slices and grapes, goldfish and juice boxes for when Amoreena got hungry on the way home. Like a true mom, her purse was full of napkins and hair ties, random books and toys. Rocks, pine cones, everything a young mind would find exciting.

She was like Marry Poppins, pulling everything and then some out of her purse as she searched for something specific. “I brought you something, I’ve had it sitting around the house just moving it to different spots over the years, and thought you’d like it.”

It made him giddy to know she was thinking about him, he couldn’t sit still as he anticipated what it was. She pulled a small metal pin out of her bag then, taking the backing off and clipping it to his pocket.

“Best tour guide ever,” she whispered, reading the words to him with a smile.

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” he shrugged, pushing down the butterflies in his stomach as they were swarmed by the beautiful creatures.

“It’s like animal crossing in here,” Amoreena said to herself as she looked around, kicking her feet as she sat on the bench, tilting her head back and forth absentmindedly as she took it all in.

He wasn’t sure when he stopped doing that; when he started to mask his true self so much that he no longer felt free in public, taking a moment to copy her movements and just enjoy the moment. Making her smile as she noticed him copy her with adoration, not to tease her in any way whatsoever.

“Can we talk when she’s looking at the fossils?” He asks Y/N softly, knowing that she’ll be the most open when Amoreena’s tiny ears wouldn’t be there to remember everything she says.

“Yeah,” she nods with a small smile. “How about I throw out our garbage and we head to that surprise?”

Amoreena jumped off the bench, tugging Spencer towards the door as Y/N cleaned up, following them eventually.

—

They had the classroom all to themselves and Amoreena was still for the first time all day. Standing in the middle of the room as the lights adjusted, changing the glow from blue to amber as they warmed.

The walls were filled with posters and informative signs, there were glass cases showcasing all the finest fossils and bones known to man. And a sand table in the middle of the room, smocks and brushes for archaeology all set up and waiting for her.

“Once you get all suited up, and we’ll get you a little mask so you don’t breathe in any of the dirt and dust, you can dig up whatever is hidden in there!” Spencer announced.

Y/N helped her into a smock, handing her the brushes and asking her to be extra careful with the plastic chisel and hammer. She was beaming from ear to ear the most toothy smile he’s ever seen.

Y/N stopped to take a photo of her then, holding her instruments in front of the sand table, “get in, we’ll tell everyone that Milo took us on a special tour today.”

Spencer kneeled close to Amoreena, she leaned in and wrapped an arm around him to get him in closer, always being the one to choose how much contact she made with Spencer. He would never want to overstep with someone else’s child.

“Beautiful!” Y/N cheered, locking her phone and slipping it back into her jeans as Amoreena turned to the table of sand, dirt and clay.

She got right to work, not skipping a beat as she leaned in and started to dig. Spencer stepped back with Y/N, knowing Amoreena was going to be in her own little world for as long as they left her alone.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m great, I’m just a little surprised,” her voice is soft, low enough that it stays with him. “You’re really good with her for a fed.”

He laughed, nodding his head as he registered her joke. “Ex fed, and I have a 12-year-old godson, Henry.”

“Ahh, so no kids of your own?” Her voice was small, she took a look at his hand to avoid eye contact and he understood.

“None, no wife, no love children hiding out there in the world that I know of, it’s just me, I promise,” he tried his best to ease her anxiety about introducing a new man into her child’s life.

She nods slightly, “you seem too good to be true sometimes.”

He huffed out a small laugh, pressing his lips together as he looked at her, “pretty sure I’ve been dreaming since I saw you.”

She shoved him as she laughed, “would you like to come back to our place for dinner? I know it’s a little weird, believe me, I know, but we live on my parent's land and my mom’s making enough shepherds pie to feed an army.”

“Yeah I’d love to, I’ll get a cab home after,” he felt a swirling in his stomach, nervous and excited all at once.

“Okay,” she whispered, “or we can get to know each other, and then you could sleep on the couch and I’ll bring you back into DC in the morning? I have to drive in any way.”

He licked his lips and nodded his head, wondering what other kind of invitation this could be. If it was pure hospitality, wanting him to be safe for the night instead of inside some stranger's car, or was she wanting alone time with him.

The thoughts turned around in his head over and over making him dizzy, “okay, yeah I’d love to,” he managed to slip the words out without falling over them.

She smiled, tight-lipped and small. Looking up at him with a new look he hasn’t seen on her yet, one he’s only seen in a few faces in his time, and yet he believed her’s the most.

She was smitten with him as much as he was with her.

He sighed, smiling back at her just as soft. She reached her hand out to hold his, walking towards the table with him in tow. Leaning over Amoreena’s shoulder as she unearthed her new most prized possessions.

—

Amoreena was the funniest kid to drive with, He sat in the passenger seat of Y/N’s car with her in a car seat directly behind him. She was singing, cheering, pointing out the window to show him all her favourite things on the way to her house.

Telling him stories about the make-believe people she created to live in the houses, the trolls under bridges and the names of every cow in the field along the long driveway of her grandparent's farm.

“Bob and Linda are an interesting pair,” she warned him as they pulled in closer and closer. Dirt flying up behind the wheels as she drove fast, knowing every bump and turn from memory.

“They will be asking you every question in the book and if you’re going to be looking at the animals they will insist on putting you in flannel and a cowboy hat, it’s a tradition for visitors,” she explained it in a way where he knew she wanted him to think she hated it, but actually she looked excited to do it to him.

“I can’t wait,” he smiled.

“Amoreena has already told them all about you at dinner last night, so they are expecting her to drag you here tonight,” she pushed the blame onto Amoreena, downplaying her affection for him in a self-conscious way he could feel.

He didn’t want to profile her, but it wouldn’t turn off. He was desperate to know her more, to know if she felt the weird tugging in her heart that made him think soulmates might be real. A pain so intense that if he had to explain it to a doctor, it was like his heart was a negative charge and he was being drawn to her much more positive one.

“We have 16 cats, 46 cows, 13 chickens, 4 ducks, 50 sheep and 1 horse, her name is buttercup,” Amoreena informed him, stealing the attention once again.

“Wow, who’s your favourite?” Spencer turned to her, watching her kick her feet as she looked out the windows.

“Probably Alfonzo our fluffy show cow, or Rufus, our dog,” she said softly. “Sometimes nanny lets him sleep at our house.”

“That’s so cool, I’ve never had a pet.”

“What?!” Amoreena stopped, pressing her lips together as her eyes shot wide open, thinking it was the most absurd thing anyone has ever said.

“My mom was sick when I was growing up so I spent my time taking care of her, I didn’t have time for a dog,” he said softly, saying it in a way that wouldn’t scare her.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said softly, reaching her hand out to pat his knee as she kept her eyes on the road.

Then she was pulling in past a big house, around the bend behind it, past the garden and the trail to the barn towards another house. It was big and white, probably big enough to have 4 bedrooms. Many levels, with multiple build-ons from years ago ageing to match eventually.

It was covered in vines, ivy and flowers. It was just like miss honeys. He felt something unspeakable, opening his mouth softly to breathe as his eyes trailed up the siding to the shingles.

He couldn’t believe it.

“Home sweet home,” her wonderful voice brought him back to reality. Saying the word that matched the feeling in his chest.

“Wow,” he whispered. His mouth moved to say words, not a single one slipped through the cracks, his lips touching with fake syllables as he stared at it.

“It was my grandma’s, it’s the house she raised my dad in,” Y/N explained as she put the car in park.

“Mommy had me as a gift for GG,” Amoreena added from the back.

“Her great-grandma,” Y/N nodded with a soft smile, biting the inside of her lip as she fought her feelings. That was a touchy subject that he was going to pry into, later on, wanting to know every single thing about the most exceptional women in the world.

There was a cat sitting on their front step, introduced to him as toothpick because he was the smallest in the last litter. And then the name of every single cat on the way back up to the main house.

Simon and Gar-funk-field twin orange brothers, Alaska the all-white one, strawberry shortcake had a red heart on her butt, oven-mitt for comedic effect obviously as if they others weren’t funny enough, as well as shovel and Catrina… all 16 of them had a name and Spencer was not going to forget a single one.

“Welcome! You must be Doctor Reid,” her father was a very large man, it shocked Spencer slightly.

He was like Santa Clause, it was more than a bit of a shock. Thick grey beard, bald head, red flannel and dirty work jeans, probably in his late 60’s. He was what you imagined Santa to look like outside of Christmas, on holiday with his wife.

He looked like a man who lived a long and happy life, he had a wife who cooked good meals for him, he probably didn’t mind sitting back with a beer most nights. There was definitely going to be sports memorabilia inside and a million photos of Y/N and Amoreena, and the purest energy known to man. Family love.

He hated how fast he profiled it all in his mind, trying to drop that aspect of his inner monologue moving forward.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Sir,” he said softly, nodding lightly as he placed his hands in his pockets. Letting it be known he didn’t touch people, and weirdly being respected.

“Please, it’s Bob or Poppy Clause,” he laughed, shifting his attention to Amoreena as she climbed the stairs towards the porch.

“How is my lovey?” Bob asked her softly, “may I have a welcome home hug?”

“Ah,” he smiled and nodded to himself. He was used to it, asking permission for her sensory issues. Spencer was impressed, and a bit emotional at the fact someone his age was respecting a way of life many didn’t care to understand.

Amoreena gave him a hug, throwing herself into his arms, “no beard tickles,” she instructed, holding onto his shoulders as he kept his face away from her.

Y/N placed her hand on Spencers back, “I told you they were a lot, my mom is worse.”

“I feel very comfortable here, don’t worry,” he assured her.

“I should worry,” she laughed, “you’re one of them, oh god.”

“One of who?”

She tilted her head at him, shaking her head, “eccentric, full of life, bursting with weirdness that would probably be a strange purple goo if I could see it.”

He pressed his lips together as he thought about it, nodding softly in agreement. “There is nothing wrong with that, it just means I’m having fun and living my best life from now on.”

“Welcome to the family,” Bob added, a simple saying that invoked a feeling of pride he long yearned for.

—

Dinner was lovely, he’s never had shepherd’s pie before. Learning it was ground beef, beans and potato casserole, and somehow there was also corn in there… he wasn’t sure why it was so delicious but he enjoyed it a lot.

It might have simply been the ambiance that made it so good.

Her mother was the sweetest woman, she made everything from scratch. Including bread that he was obsessed with and a pie for dessert, she was overjoyed to have an expected yet unexpected guest.

Knowing there was a possibility he’d come, but not setting a place for him at the table unless he showed. She wrapped him up in a big hug when he arrived as well as after dinner when he helped her move the plates to the sink.

Her dad offered him a beer after dinner, taking him to the front porch to talk while the ladies cleaned up for the night. Amoreena had a strict bedtime routine to stick to, and it wasn’t his place to witness nor get in the way.

“So,” her dad started the interrogation easily. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be here if Y/N didn’t trust you. And she doesn’t trust many people.”

“I can promise you I’ll never hurt either of them,” he said with the utmost confidence. “It’s been two days and they’ve brought me more joy than I can explain, and I’m never going to take that for granted.”

“Good answer,” he smiled. “Now, farmhouse rules are as follows; you can roam where ever you please, just ask permission before using any equipment, we’re more of a petting zoo than a farm now so the animals are overly friendly, try and keep them inside the gates.”

He was a bit flustered, computing the fact that he just trusted him like that. Maybe he was Santa Clause, making a list and checking it twice, and Spencer happened to cross off every box to land him on the nice one.

“Sounds good,” he smiled. “Thank you.”

“Believe me, sonny, I know what it’s like to want to impress the old man, but it’s all about Amoreena,” Bob warned him. “If she loves you then so will Y/N, and she falls fast.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, “I’m the same way.”

“That’s what Y/N was saying, I think it’ll be good for Amoreena to know someone like her, we try our best to get her out there and making friends, she’s smart enough to move up some grades but she’s a kid, y’know?” Her father basically describing his own childhood back to him.

“I graduated high school at 13,” he presses his lips together, hoping it doesn’t come off as a brag. Taking a sip of his beer to take the edge off how awkward he felt.

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” he smiled at Bob, who was smiling right back, “it led me here.”

Bob hummed in response, taking a sip as well as he sat back in his rocking chair, watching over the cows in the field as the sun began to set. It was picture perfect, unbelievable.

Wet feet on the hardwood floor caught his attention then, Amoreena was in her PJ’s as she ran towards the door. Putting on her rubber boots and swinging open the screen door.

Her hair was wet, falling into her eyes as she pushed it out of the way, “are you joining the parade and dance party?”

He acted like he knew what that meant, “sure?”

“Yes!” She cheered, “hurry up mom!!”

Y/N walked down the steps slowly, shaking her head as she laughed. “You are so impatient, the animals aren’t going anywhere.”

“No, but Spencer will!”

It made his heartache, the thought of leaving.

“Come on,” she slipped back into her shoes and joined them on the porch. “Off we go, see you later dad.”

“Be good, make wise choices,” he teased her.

“Okay old fart, sleep well,” they had a friendship that was admirable.

Spencer followed with glee as Amoreena said goodnight to all the animals, parading down the path towards their house as she made sure to talk to everything on the way there.

“Every night we pick 2 songs to dance to, it gets all the sillies out and rewards us for a day well spent so we can bless our bodies with a good sleep,” Y/N explains as she unlocks the front door.

A cottage full of books in the middle of the woods, that dream he always had, coming true as she ushered him inside. The smell of coffee drifting towards him as he noticed the brown candle on the mantle surrounded by photos of Y/N and her family.

She placed her keys beside it, kicking off her shoes and making sure Amoreena did the same. In the living room, she connected her phone to a set of speakers, letting the little one pick out 2 songs, queueing them up to play as she bounced with anticipation.

“Tonight’s selection is today was a fairytale by miss Swift, and Anne Hathaway’s cover of somebody to love, form the cinematic masterpiece that is Ella Enchanted,” Y/N announced like she was hosting the grammies, pretending her phone was the mic before hitting play.

He knew somebody to love, the Elton John version, it was a song that Penelope and Emily sang at karaoke when they reached 11 shots each, so not very often. But enough to have him remember the words, singing along with them as they danced.

It was a better workout than Derek had ever put him through, they held hands and jumped around, he twirled Amoreena around, pretending to do the tango with Y/N. Waving their arms in the air, it was the most carefree he has been in ages.

The songs fit the situation more perfectly than any of them seem to realize, he’s falling head over heels in love with this family that he met yesterday. Something in him saying that he needs to stay, that this is where he was supposed to be.

Getting Amoreena into bed was more difficult than Y/N imagined, she didn’t want to stop talking to Spencer. Only finally agreeing to sleep when she learned he would still be there for breakfast in the morning.

“Can you read me a book from your brain?” Her sleep-deprived eyes blinked as she asked him softly.

He looked at Y/N from the doorway, she nodded, patting the bed for Spencer to sit on the edge.

“Any book?”

“Any book.”

“Bedtime for baby star,” he says softly. Remembering all the late night’s he’s heard JJ whisper it on the back of the plane, in the corner of a police precinct in the middle of nowhere, in a twin bed beside his as they shared a hotel room.

“Once there was a baby star, she lived up by the sun. And every night at bedtime, that baby star wanted to have some fun,” he recited the words in an exciting tone, just low enough to soothe her into sleep. “She would sine and sine and fall and shoot and twinkle, oh so bright, and she said ‘Mommy! I’ll run away if you make me say goodnight.’”

Y/N looked at her with a fake stern look, leaning in enough to rub their noses together. “And then her mommy kissed her sparkly nose and said, no matter where you go,”

Y/N kissed her on the nose, “no matter where you go,” she repeated.

“No matter where you are, no matter how big you grow and even if you stray far,” to which Y/N repeated. “I’ll love you forever because you’ll always be my baby star.”

“Goodnight my sweet Amoreena,” Y/N kissed her head softly and stood, Spencer, joined her by the door.

“Can I have a hug?” She asked him softly, he looked at Y/N for approval once again.

She placed a hand on his back as she nodded, watching him lean in and hold Amoreena softly, “goodnight, I had a fun day today.”

“See you tomorrow,” she smiled, closing her eyes for the night.

Y/N replaced her lamp light with a night light, closing the door on the way out of her room as she blew a kiss towards her baby, “love you.”

“Love you more,” Amoreena whispered back.

Spencer was nothing but smiles in the hall as she looked at him, “I’m going to pour myself some wine and sit in the garden, are you interested?”

“Ecstatic actually,” he replied, following her towards the kitchen and letting her pour him a glass.

Behind her house, she had an overgrown garden, every area of her life had a reference to a book somewhere, a story someone else told that she’s now claimed as her own. Living in the world she always wanted, inviting Spencer to stay a while.

She let out a deep sigh as she sat down on the outdoor couch beside him, dropping her head on his shoulder softly, it was more contact than he was expecting. She had barely touched him.

“You should know that I like you a lot,” Spencer spoke softly. “I don’t want you to think I’m just some creep trying to get close to you and your kid, I genuinely think you’re wonderful and Amoreena is magnificent.”

“I trust you, I googled you and everything, don’t worry,” she laughs. “I wouldn’t invite you to the museum and let you give my kid a hug without doing research.”

“Not everything is on there you know.”

“I think you are very wonderful as well,” she said softly, “but I know it’s just the fact that you’re so darn cute that’s making me feel like I should drop everything and invite you into our life.”

“I understand,” he replied. Waiting for her to tell him that this was the last time she’d see him, it was inevitable at this point in his life. Nothing good lasted for long.

“So I need you to know all about me and I need to know all about you before you decide you want to stay because I can’t handle bringing you into Amoreena’s life for you to just leave her,” another deflection.

“You might want to hear mine first before you decide if you want me to stay around her,” it sounded scarier than he planned.

“Alright then, you go first,” she insisted with a small smile, eyes darting past him towards the cows in the field. Not ready to be vulnerable with him.

“I worked with the FBI for 15 years, I’ve helped catch some of the worst people in America, and some of them have vendetta’s against me. As far fetched and insane as that sounds,” he pre-warned her, watching her face drop as she understood the weight of his words.

“I have been framed and sent to prison for three months, I was kidnaped, tortured, drugged, and assaulted, not to mention shot a few times. I have more trauma than you can imagine. So that’s something you have to consider in a future with me,” he whispered so she wouldn’t hear how ashamed he was of himself.

“And the fact know that I can’t always keep myself or you safe, no matter how far disconnected I am from the FBI. It doesn’t matter if I change my name and hide here for the rest of my life off the grid. There are some fucked up minds out there that don’t want to let me experience true happiness. But in all honesty,” he finally stops his long-winded rant. He bites his bottom lip as if he is holding back someone worse than all the things he just said.

“I’m willing to die tomorrow if it means my last day on earth was this fucking perfect.” Tears welled in his eyes, “I am so tired.”

“It’s okay to cry, I would be too,” she says softly, a frog in her throat as she nodded. Tears welling in her eyes as her face scrunched.

He blinked and a tear escaped, slipping down his cheek and being swiped off by her thumb in an instant. She kept her hand on his cheek softly, he leaned into it.

“I’ve been running for so long,” he whispers because then the words don’t really exist. They’re secrets only for her to hear and then they’re gone. “I was basically groomed for the FBI, I was their personal computer and they didn’t give a single shit about the wear and tear on me.”

He started to sob. She cradled his head against her chest in one swift motion, holding him close and rubbing his back. Shushing him softly as he cried into her shoulder.

“You know that Katy Perry song?” she changed the subject as he calmed down, understanding his pain and accepting his warnings, but continuing down the path anyway.

“Summer after high school when we first met,” she sang like an angel. “It was like that, I thought I met the love of my life after I graduated, we got engaged a year later, then he died in a car crash and I was single for a very long time.”

“Then my grandma got sick and she made a bucket list. Number one was to become a great grandma,” her words became whispers as she tried to stop the tears, following Spencer’s tactic even though it failed so miserably.

“I said fuck it. I’m going to have a baby and make my own family, one person I can truly care for and never lose. She’s my world, she was the light of my grandma’s life until it burnt out, she has changed my world in ways I can’t even explain.”

It fell silent as they absorbed each other’s explanations of their issues. The root of their problems, the core of their soul were the most hurt was kept locked away, opening the doors and swapping scrapbook snapshots of terrible memories.

“I think,” she says, finally, like music to his ears. “I think that I’m okay, I’m positive actually that I want you in my life like this. All of you is fine with me, you’re not that scary, and I’m tired of waiting for the right moments because it means losing the people over time missed. I want to live my life fully, I’m at peace with the unknown and with you.”

Peace.

“Not to quote Taylor Swift at you or anything, but she does have a point in that song,” she laughed lightly and he felt her chest jump. Life bursting through her as she made light of an incredibly touchy subject.

“I don’t know the song,” he whispers.

She gasps, “oh that’s the line, I finally found it. Our first fight can be whether or not you like Taylor Swift, don’t even think about how upset Amoreena will be if you’re not, I’ll kick you out.”

He can't stop laughing then, digging his face into her neck as he holds her closer to his chest. Breathing her in as she finishes his laugh in a giggle, rubbing her hands down his back as she presses her cheek to his head.

“I haven’t had the time to listen to her this year I know she’s been busy releasing music,” he admits, “but I’m sure I’ll love it.”

She shifts awkwardly on the couch to take her phone out of her pocket, opening her music and playing the song she was speaking of.

He simply rests his head on her chest, both of them laying back onto the cushions together, finding a comforting spot for their arms as they listened to the words, silently.

He absorbed it all, every word she said bringing forth a feeling he’s never felt before. True understanding, like someone, gets him. Gasping audibly when she says ‘robbers to the east clowns to the west, give you my sunshine, give you my best.’

He wasn’t alone.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

224 notes · View notes

subspencer · 3 years

Note

I have this deep thought that spencer does pottery, like goddamn just imagine watching him guiding the clay with his sexy ass hands😫😫we were seriously robbed by not being able to see him do that in the show

i’m immediately watering at the mouth thinking of this…. spencer in a little apron with no shirt under. his arms and chest covered in clay. he wraps his arms around you to help shape the pot a la ghost style. you get to lean back on his warm chest in his strong arms watching his pretty hands move so skillfully …..

#thoughts #i’m losing my marbles rn

86 notes · View notes

pulchritudinous-plants · 2 years

Text

kingdom keepers underdeveloped relationships that barely have any canon and what is canon contradicts itself often in the same book so it’s almost entirely up for interpretation my beloved ♥️

okay let’s go

•charlene and maybeck are that couple that people post pictures of with captions like ‘oh it’s a great day to be bisexual’

•when charlene moves to california to go act maybeck and her make a point to video chat every night

•if one of them’s busy, either with work, school or the occasional patrol around the parks they’ll be texting non stop the next morning

•we know terry canonically uses humor as a coping mechanism for his anxiety. i imagine it takes him a bit to get use to letting charlene see past the brevado

•charlene loves taking him to art museums! she likes to watch him look at the art

•they recreate the pottery wheel scene from ghost- only it ends up with them covered in clay and laughing til their stomachs hurt

•they bond over both having had short term crushes on other keepers- charlene on finn and maybeck on willa.

•philby and willa argue and bicker all the time about the smallest things. they never get super heated, seeing as it’s normally about the correct spelling of tire or something, but they never get tired of it. they have fun doing it

•the other keepers absolutely don’t understand

•they get together after the cruise but end up being pretty on and off until after they go to california together in senior year

•willa ends up dating a few other people in between but despite people asking him out philby doesn’t

•he’s never been more mad at himself then when he broke it off with willa and she started going out with spencer a few weeks later

•they always end up getting back together though

•their dates tend to be study dates or them working out together. not necessarily interacting but still spending time together

•willa’s older brothers intimidate dell to no end where as her younger brothers love him

•dells parents really don’t like that he’s dating willa which pisses him off because they can’t give him a reason so he just wallpapers his walls in pictures of her

•willa steals his sweatshirts; philby loves when she wears his soccer team ones that have his name on the back

•finn and amanda skirt around dating until they’re out of high school

•like they’d never date someone else and they go to all the dances together and they’ve definitely made out (he Bit her Neck!! just casually!! like??)

•but they’re both too nervous to put a label on it

•only after everything with the keepers is over and they’re both figuring out what to do next do they decide to put a label on it

•they have to go long distance because amanda’s at the imagineering academy and finn goes to the UCF

•but just the label is so comforting to both of them

•they’re the ones that get married as soon and they’re out of school. they’re tired of waiting and they’ve known that they’d get together since they were 13 practically. they don’t see the point in waiting

•finn may have been a bit of an idiot when he was 15 but he’s the most attentive boyfriend as they get older

•he loves buying her little gifts when he sees something that reminds him of her

•he bakes her cookies!

•amanda can be a little distant sometimes (years of believing you can’t trust anyone other than you and your sister will do that to you) but finn’s patient and always takes everything at her pace

•group dates! the parks at 2am, driving two hours to the beach to just sit around for a few hours before having to go back, visiting each other at college

#love that there’s almost no canon content in the books for any of the relationships #and half of it contradicts itself #how long have any of them been dating by the seventh book? have any of them dates #who knows? certainly not ridley #i like that you could make an argument for literally any pairing because even the canon ones have no content #willa and maybeck? it’s hinted!#finn and philby? why not! friends to rivals to lovers type best #jess and willa? we all read to soaring scene!#charlene and amanda? ridley wishes he could write character development that poetic #finn and maybeck? calling someone hot is not an insult #literally all the ships work. it doesn’t matter. you can barley find evidence for the canon ones so who am i to tell you who’s together?#amanda lockhart #charlene turner #dell philby #finn whitman #jessica lockhart #terry maybeck #willa angelo #kingdom keepers #disney headcanons #wilby #finmanda #charbeck #ridley pearson

16 notes · View notes

mosstheidiot · 3 years

Text

Masterlist

About Me

Hey I'm Moss

My pronouns are he/they/it

I'm abrosexual

I'm afab and don't feel dysphoria / the need to transition

My favorite movie is Lilo & Stitch or The Lion King

I have some chickens

I live in the south currently

I definitely don't have a giant crush on Jasper from The Twilight Saga (this is a joke that man is so pretty<3)

I constantly make fun of my best friend for being short when I'm only two inches taller than them

My favorite flowers are sunflowers, black dahlias, and rainbow roses

My favorite crystals are moonstone, obsidian, and opal

My favorite smells are lavender and vanilla

One time I got my knee stuck in bars on the playground for like 15 minutes

I like sweet tea, horror movies / shows, cats, and climbing trees

I can vibrate my eyes

My Favorite holiday is Halloween

My favorite season is winter

Anon List

👻 anon / ghost anon

anarchy anon

🌙 anon / moon anon

(accepting anon requests)

Shows / TV / Movies I'll Write for

Twilight

Octonauts (this is (mostly) a joke)

Bnha / Mha

Criminal Minds

Ncis

Fruits Basket

Kamisama Kiss / Kamisama Hajimemashita

Wings of Fire

Dsmp

Mcu

Characters I'll Write For

Alice Cullen (1)

Rosalie Hale (1)

Jasper Hale (1)

Leah Clearwater (1)

(p!) Emmett Cullen (1)

Jane Volturi (1)

(p!) Alec Volturi (1)

Caius Volturi (1)

Aro Volturi (1)

Shellington (/hj) (2)

Dashi (/hj) (2)

Tweak (/hj) (2)

Peso (/hj) (2)

Kwazii (/hj) (2)

Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) (3)

Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead) (3)

Mirio Togata (Lemillion) (3)

Tamaki Amajiki (Suneater) (3)

Himiko Toga (3)

Tomura Shigaraki (3)

Touya Todoroki (Dabi) (3)

Elle Greenaway (4)

Emily Prentiss (4)

Spencer Reid (4)

Penelope Garcia (4)

Tara Lewis (4)

Ziva David (5)

Abby Schuito (5)

Cate / Kate Todd (5)

Kyo Sohma (6)

Hatsuharu Sohma (6)

Hatori Sohma (6)

Arisa Uotani (6)

Saki Hanajima (6)

Tomoe (7)

Nanami Momozono (7)

Mizuki (7)

Clay (8)

Tsunami (8)

Sunny (8)

Glory (8)

Starflight (8)

Peril (8)

Queen Scarlet (8)

(p!) Kestrel (8)

Riptide (8)

C!Technoblade (9)

C!Philza (9)

C!Niki (9)

(p!)C!Puffy (9)

CC! and C!Eret (9)

CC! and C!Wilbur (9)

CC! and C!Jack (9)

C!Fundy (9)

Natasha Romanoff (10)

Pietro Maximoff (no I won't write for boner man) (10)

Wanda Maximoff (10)

Loki Laufeyson (10)

Sam Wilson (10)

Sharon Carter (10)

Agatha Harkness (10)

Darcy Lewis (10)

(p!) Pepper Potts (10)

Bruce Banner (10)

Peter Parker (10)

Things I'll Write

Headcanons

Oneshots

Imagines

Fluff

HurtComfort / Angst to Fluff

GN! or male! reader

Things I' ll write (but if you request it there's no guarantee I'll do it)

Spicy (bordering on nsfw) things

Fem! reader

Things I Won't Write

Nsfw

All Angst

Incest

Stepcest

Anything involving pregnancy (just makes me uncomfortable, more power to ya if you've gone through child birth. I hope your organs are okay)

Accepting Requests?

Yes, requests close around October 1st - 5th. So during those five days feel free to send in Whitlocktober requests

If a character doesn't have (p!) you can still request something platonic w/ them

42 notes · View notes

baubabble · 4 years

Text

“Subtle Differences” Final Part - Hotch x F!Reader

PART I PART II

Summary: You and the rest of the team head to take down the Unsub as the search for the killer and Allison Wilson comes to a close. You and Hotch team up to take the loft, having each other’s backs. With all the unresolved tension between the two of you, will you finally make the first move? Or will he? Final Part of Subtle Differences.

Word Count: 4064

Warning: CM Violence, Blood

Song I Wrote To: “Next To Me” by Imagine Dragons

Note: Thank you all for sticking with me on this one! I was only planning on making this a one-shot, but I had too much to say! My next CM work is going to be Reid x Reader and will be just one part, but I have other ideas too. REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

-------

Standing in the locker room of the SPD, you struggled with your bulletproof vest.

Frustrated, you tore it off and started again. “Let me.” Hotch’s soft voice reached your ears as he walked up behind you. You let go of the straps and he tightened the vest around your torso. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he fastened the velcro straps, his hands pressing along your stomach and shoulders.

Hotch trailed his hand down your spine and you let your eyes close at his touch. He then rested his forehead against the back of your head, closing his eyes as he took a moment to be calm. Slowly, you reached your hand towards him and after hesitating for a second, you grabbed his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers with his.

This was the most physical contact you had had with him. You stayed like that and something felt so intimate of just being in each other’s space. You could hear his breathing and feel the way he leaned into your back. This was much more than just a few gazes or smiles on the odd occasion.

Aaron was touching you as if he had been waiting to do it for a while. Maybe it was because you were about to put yourself into the line of fire or because he was finally willing to take a step in your direction. Whatever it was, you were drinking it in.

Moving your hair off your neck, he flattened the last strap, letting his hands linger on your shoulders for a moment as he pressed his nose into your hair. Delicate fingers traced the skin at the top of your spine and you shuddered beneath his touch.

Neither of you said anything as you stilled in your small moment.

Eventually, Aaron released your hand and leaned back. “Are you okay?” he asked and at the worry in his voice, you turned around to face him.

He was already outfitted in his vest, his earpiece hanging around his neck while his sidearm sat on his hip as always. He looked down at you with concern in those beautiful eyes of his. In that silent locker room, all you wanted to do was hold his face between your hands, but you had a job to do.

“I’m fine,” you assured him.

“Are you sure? If you need more time, I can have you run communications from here,” he said. You gave him a small smile, fighting to keep your hands at your sides.

“Aaron,” you breathed and his eyes locked onto yours, nearly taking your breath away entirely, “I’m okay. I promise.” Hotch nodded and then handed you an earpiece.

“Alright,” he said, smoothing his hands down your arms before stepping away. “Let’s go. You’re riding with me.”

————

Following Aaron out to the SUVs you placed your earpiece into your ear and double-checked your weapon. Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Perotta were taking one SUV, while you, Rossi, Reid, and Hotch took the other. Sliding in next to Spencer, you pushed up your sleeves and caught a glimpse of the scar that now permanently marked your arm. Spencer was watching you, but you ignored him as Hotch started the engine and began driving towards Belltown.

On the way there, Garcia called the entire team. “Okay, superheroes,” she said in greeting, “I have the 411 on our guy. Alan Rhett, thirty-two-years-old, born in Spokane and moved to the big city only a couple years ago. He’s worked for Ground Express for the past six months and before that never really held a steady job.”

“What else?” JJ asked.

“Well, this guy is smart and by smart, I mean crazy smart! He holds two degrees, one in art history and the other in structural engineering. I wouldn’t put it past him to have his place enforced with some kind of fancy doodads,” said Garcia.

“I hate when they’re smart,” Rossi said and you smirked.

“Garcia, is there any history with a woman in his life?” Reid asked.

“Definitely, my tall friend,” Penelope said. “When Alan was seven, his mother went missing for almost two weeks. It turned out that she had fallen into a vat of chemicals at the factory that she worked at. It ended up preserving her body until the foreman found her a week and half after she died. Yikes, it says she drowned in the stuff.”

“Well, there’s the stressor,” you said. “But what was the trigger? It couldn’t have just been that one painting.”

“From the medical reports I am seeing, it looks like after his mother died, dad just shoved him onto his grandmother who wasn’t the nicest of people. She blamed Alan for his mother’s death and even abused him at times. Oh god, she used to burn him with hot candle wax,” Garcia said.

“Garcia, what happened to the grandmother?” Hotch asked.

“One second,” Penelope said, “oh, she died one week before Mason Walker was killed.”

“There’s the trigger,” Spencer said.

“When we get on scene,” Hotch began, “Dave and Prentiss, I want you to take the Westside while Morgan and Perotta take the East. JJ and Reid take the back. (Y/L/N) and I are going to go through the front. Our priority is finding Allison. There is a good chance she is still alive.”

“One more thing,” Garcia said. “It seems there is a firearm registered in the unsub’s name and according to his bank records, he bought ammo for it just before Mason’s abduction.”

“He won’t hesitate to shoot his way out,” Morgan reminded everyone.

“Which makes him that much more dangerous,” said Hotch. “Everyone needs to be vigilant and remember this usub is smart and is unhinged.”

“Stay safe and come home,” Garcia said.

“Always,” Rossi said and then you arrived at the loft.

————

The team split up into the designated teams and after speaking with SWAT and Perotta’s men, you entered the building.

The loft was a solitary unit on an abandoned street. Everything else around it was either torn down or foreclosed. You kept close to Hotch as you two entered the front of the building. SWAT officers took the side corridors as you and Aaron moved into the main building.

Keeping your guns up, you had his back, keeping the both of you safe as you cleared each room. At the end of the main hallway, a pair of double doors stood ajar. You ran ahead, bracing your hand on the door handle. You waited for Hotch’s signal. He kept his gun balanced and then nodded to you.

With a swift pull, the door opened and Hotch rushed in. You followed close by, ready to cover him at all costs. However, when you both entered the secondary hallway, it was empty of threat. Though, something else had made you both pause. “What the hell…” you whispered as you slowly lowered your gun.

The dark corridor was speckled with electric torches that created an eerie glow. The walls were painted a dark charcoal color and dripping down every inch of them was thick, red wax. The same wax that Rhett had covered his victims in.

“Do you think he considers this art?” You asked Hotch as you began walking again.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Aaron said, keeping away from the wax. The entire scene looked like something out of a horror movie. You suddenly felt very closed in as if the walls were moving toward you. Swallowing thickly, you tried to stay focused as you followed him.

At the end of the hallway, there was another door. Light was coming from the crack at the bottom and you could smell something...putrid. You and Hotch moved towards it. Aaron’s face was full of determination as he scanned your surroundings. The rest of your team were speaking in your ears, explaining that they were clearing rooms.

The two of you had stayed silent since entering the wax-filled hallway. Pressing your ear against the door, you tried to hear anything that would indicate what was on the other side, but nothing was reading through the thick wood. You shook your head at Hotch. You then tried the doorknob and it didn’t budge. Stepping back, you gave Aaron some room. He braced himself and then with a sharp kick of his right leg, the door gave way and Aaron rushed forward.

The next moment moved in slow motion. As soon as the door flew open, you had a split second to react. Reaching out, you grabbed Hotch before he even realized why you were doing it. Dropping your weapon, you took hold of his arm and pulled him backwards into you. He stumbled but held onto you as you steadied him.

You were flush against him as you gripped him tight. He was breathing heavily, as were you, as you stared at one another. Your breath mingled with his as you tried to keep your heart rate under control. You failed miserably. His eyes were on yours as if he was drinking you in and for a fraction of a second, his gaze turned to your lips that were slightly parted.

You wanted to enjoy the moment, but the air hit your nose and it was near acidic. Breaking the gaze, you looked to your left and your mouth fell open. “Hotch…” you whispered. You reached up and took hold of his chin, turning his face towards the open doorway.

Confused, he fully turned and saw what had you shocked. On the other side of the door, the ground was nonexistent. The floor was dug out significantly and now resembled a very deep Olympic-sized swimming pool. The red wax-filled this room as well and at the bottom of the pit were four skeletons and two other bodies that were well beyond recognition. All six sets of remains had been coated in the unsub’s signature blend of wax and clay.

“Morgan and I were right,” you whispered in horror, “he’s been doing this for a while.” Hotch shook his head in disgust as he looked around the hallway behind you when he spotted something the two of you had missed.

“There,” he said, gesturing to another door that was ajar just to the right of the mass grave you now stood above. Hotch leaned down and grabbed your gun, placing it in your hand. “Are you with me?”

“Always,” you said without hesitation, and then the two of you disappeared through the door as the smell of death and decay followed after you into the darkness.

———

The rest of the hallways were void of the horror show from the first.

Whatever the building had been before Rhett had taken it as his home, it definitely wasn’t usually inhabited by people. Rats scurried at your feet and you fought the urge to shoot every single one. Pushing through the final set of doors, you met up with Rossi and Prentiss who had entered from the other side.

“Anything?” Prentiss asked.

“We have more bodies,” Hotch explained. “He’s been doing this for longer than we thought.” Prentiss grimaced and then a muffled cry drew your attention followed by a crash. All four of you ran towards the sound that came from behind a partition at the far side of the room. Rossi and Hotch tossed it aside and there, lying on a surgical table, was Allison Wilson. A funnel was placed into her mouth as she was strapped down and fighting her restraints.

You ran to her side, pulling the contraption out of her throat as Emily released her bonds. Allison was crying as you held onto her. “It’s okay, Allison, we’re the FBI,” you told her, helping her sit up.

“Thank you, thank you,” she sobbed.

“Where is he?” Hotch asked. Allison pointed to a stairwell.

“Roof,” she croaked out. “He has a gun.” Prentiss took hold of Allison, calling for medics while Rossi urged you and Hotch to go after the unsub while he secured the scene. You and Aaron raced for the stairwell.

“Rhett is heading to the roof,” Hotch said to the others over the coms.

“On our way,” JJ said back. You took the stairs two at a time as you prepared yourselves for what you were running into. Breaking through the roof access door, you were immediately met with gunfire. You and Aaron dove for cover behind the air conditioning unit, hitting the ground hard.

“You okay?” Aaron asked, checking you over. You nodded and then rolled to the other side, ready to fire back as needed. You took calming breaths as the phantom shots were now very much real. Aaron gestured for you to flank Rhett from the left and you move silently along the roof.

“Alan Rhett!” Hotch yelled. “It’s over! We found your other victims and we have Allison!”

“You have nothing!” Rhett yelled back.

“We also have Terry Owens!” you said. “Remember him? The man you tortured?”

“He was a coward. They all are!”

“Who is ‘they’, Alan?” you asked.

“Everyone!” he shouted and you peeked around the corner and saw Rhett was waving his gun back and forth, trying to target you and Hotch. His hands were covered in the wax and his eyes were wild.

“How did you get the women to cooperate, Alan?” Hotch asked. “Did you threaten them?”

“It was easy,” Rhett said with a laugh. “I knew where they lived with their precious families.” You cringed at his words. His ruse was simple, threaten the victims’ family and you’ll get them to do anything. It was textbook. “Doesn’t matter. They were going to leave their families anyways!”

“Like your mother left you?” Hotch asked, getting to his feet and moving to be in Rhett’s line of sight. You followed his movements on the other side of the unsub.

“Shut up!” Rhett yelled. “Don’t talk about her!”

“It was an accident, Alan,” you said as he looked wildly at you. “She didn’t leave you on purpose.”

“She did! They all do!”

“Is that why you kill the women the way you do? To preserve them as art?” you asked, taking a couple of steps closer to him.

“(Y/N),” Hotch warned, but you ignored him.

“You wanted them to be beautiful and for them to be eternal like paintings. Right?” Rhett was nodding. “I saw your work downstairs. It was very nice,” you said, trying to find a thread to pull on.

“You think so?” he asked, his gaze falling on you as if he wasn’t quite looking at you.

“Yes, Alan,” you said. “You are a true artist. Why don’t you put the gun down and you can show me more?” Rhett was smiling at you now, but his gun never wavered.

“They were my best work,” he said. “I worked so hard on them, but I never did seem to be able to get them just right.” Hotch moved in closer as you faced down the killer. “You know what? You would be so perfect,” Rhett said before turning his gun on you. You didn’t have time to react as a gunshot echoed around you.

However, when it was over and you checked yourself, there wasn’t a scratch on you. Instead, Rhett lay on the ground with a single bullet hole in his forehead as Hotch stood with his gun raised, breathing hard. “Hotch!” Morgan’s voice came as he, JJ, Perotta, and Reid came running across the roof from the Southside.

“We’re okay!” Hotch yelled back. Morgan reached you first, grabbing your arm.

“I’m okay,” you promised him. He then went to check on Hotch as Reid and JJ went to you. “Son of a bitch was gonna shoot me,” you said.

“You seem to be making that a habit,” Spencer said, giving you a hug. “Let’s try to break that, okay?”

“Yeah, Doc,” you said, squeezing him back. “I like that idea a lot.”

------

Once you were back on the street, you went to find Allison.

You got there just as the medics were loading her into the ambulance. Emily was with her, holding her hand the whole time. The ringing of the gunshot was still fresh in your mind, but you were slowly calming down as everything was coming to a close. The killer was dead, Allison was safe, and now you had the opportunity to give closure to even more families from the victims you found on the first floor.

“Not a bad first case back,” Rossi said as he joined you.

“If you say so,” you said with a shrug. Rossi pulled you into his side and you rested your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For being you,” you said simply. Rossi squeezed you tighter.

“Any time, kid.”

Spotting Perotta, you excused yourself and headed over to the detective.

“Detective Perotta,” you greeted. He turned to you with a smile.

“Good work, Agent (Y/L/N),” he said. “I can’t thank you and your team enough. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if he had continued.”

“You would have caught him eventually,” you assured him.

“More people would have died without the BAU and for that, I am grateful for your help,” he said and then offered his hand. You took it, shaking it twice.

“Good luck with everything, Perotta,” you said and then turned to go. As you headed to the SUVs, you caught sight of Aaron as he spoke with the police chief. Your eyes met his and you smiled at him. He gave you his signature smirk and nodded. Ducking your head, you got in the car and let all the tension in your body sink into the leather seats. You were ready to go home.

-------

You were the first one on the jet.

You sat in your seat, leaning back as you waited for the rest of the team. When the door opened, you expected to see Emily or Spencer, but instead, it Aaron and he was alone. “Hey,” you greeted, sitting up straighter. Hotch placed his bag down and then joined you, sitting next to you in the plush chairs. “Where is everyone?”

“They’re on their way,” he said, peeling off his jacket and laying it over the back of his seat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed a moment alone, you know? Collect my thoughts,” you said and he nodded.

“How are you really?” he asked with a knowing look. You sighed, unable to resist him, especially when he looked at you with those wonderful eyes of his.

“I’m still a bit shaken,” you admit.

“I figured,” Aaron said softly. The two of you just sat there for a moment, listening to the pilot doing his pre-checks and you were reminded of the moment in the locker room. It now seemed like a lifetime ago rather than just this afternoon. Aaron had never been so...open with you. You longed for his touch now. Even if it was something as subtle as tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. The thought alone made your skin feel as if it was on fire. “You did well today,” he complimented, taking you out of your thoughts.

“So did you,” you said.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, and then his fingers trailed along the scar that spanned along your arm. His touch felt like electricity as he moved back and forth.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you said softly. “Thank you for having my back today.” His fingers stilled on your arm and then they moved towards your hand. His movements were methodical and he was taking his time just as he had earlier at the precinct.

“We make a good team, don’t we?” he asked, looking at you from under his lashes. Just as you had before, you rotated your hand and laced your fingers with his.

“Yeah, we do,” you said and then swallowed thickly. Aaron’s thumb began rubbing circles along the back of your hand and then he slowly lifted his other hand to your cheek. You didn’t breathe as he moved in closer. Aaron pressed his nose against yours, tilting your head up so he could get a better angle, and then, he kissed you.

It was as if fireworks were going off inside your head, replacing the barrage of gunfire with bright colors. Aaron kissed you with a tenderness you didn’t even know he was capable of. His hand left yours and came up to cup the other side of your face. Instead of fire, all you felt was warmth as Aaron Hotchner held you. You kissed him back with as much emotion as you could muster at that moment.

Eventually, he pulled back and his warm breath cascaded over your lips. Leaning his forehead against yours, he smiled. “It’s about time that happened,” you said with a smile of your own. Aaron chuckled, leaning back slightly, but keeping his hands on the sides of your neck.

“I’d have done it sooner if I had picked up on your...subtleties,” he said, his thumbs rubbing against your skin. You tilted your head to the side slightly, looking up at him.

“And I thought you were a profiler,” you teased. Aaron raised a brow, leaning in again.

“Funny,” he said, “I thought the same thing about you.” His lips met yours again and this kiss was anything but tender. Hotch gripped you tighter as he kissed you with a fierceness only he had. You gripped him by the shoulders, pulling him even closer to you. Aaron nudged your lips apart as he explored your mouth further, savoring the way the two of you just fit perfectly together. Your hands crawled up his neck, fingers cascading through his dark hair.

You had imagined many times what it would feel like to be kissed by Aaron Hotchner, but nothing had prepared you for the real thing. He was gentle and passionate and every move he made had you sinking into him further. It was the best kind of high you had ever experienced.

When you both had to breathe, you pulled back, and with kiss-swollen lips, you pecked him once more. “So, does this mean that I pass my eval?” you asked with a smirk. Aaron rolled his eyes.

“It was never in question, (Y/N),” he admitted, “I just needed an excuse to be close to you.”

“Weren’t very subtle about it, Aaron,” you teased.

“I knew you’d catch on eventually,” he said with a smile. Aaron kissed you again until he heard the team approaching and then he pulled back with a sigh. “How long do you think we have before they all figure it out?” he asked.

“Rossi already knows,” you said, leaning away from him.

“Does he?” Aaron asked, amused.

“Apparently, I am a lot easier to read than I first thought,” you said with a shrug. Aaron reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his touch linger before pulling away.

“On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read.”

“Is that so?” you asked, intrigued. He nodded.

“However, I am very much looking forward to learning how.” You smiled at his words just as the team boarded, talking animatedly. The two of you smoothed your shirts and hair before anyone noticed anything, but Dave had caught you immediately. Rossi winked at the both of you and you thought you would die of embarrassment right there, but then, you felt a warm hand on your leg. Hotch gripped your thigh, rubbing it soothingly and you felt calmer already.

The rest of the team followed Rossi onto the jet, completely oblivious to what had just transpired onboard. Rossi sat across from you and Hotch so you could be close to one another just in case another member of the team caught something. You would have liked at least the next six hours to be just about you and Hotch and hopefully, they would be.

Leaning back in your seat, Hotch kept his hand on you at all times and as you flew across the country, light began to shine through the small breaks in the window shudders and at that moment, you had never felt more at peace.

“Sunrise is the reminder that we can start new beginning all over again." - Rupal Asodaria

#Criminal Minds #Cm #cm imagines #CM Season 7 #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #Hotch imagine #hotch #hotch x reader #bau reader #baubabble #BAU #reader insert #profiler reader

350 notes · View notes

shoot-the-oneshot · 2 years

Text

NEW PROMPT LIST / some favorites

Please send request!!

24 "Why are you creeping outside my bedroom window?!" "I thought it would be romantic if I climbed up here." "You gave me a heart-attack!"

30 “I'm not your friend. I'm your boyfriend, get it right.”

55 “ you’re on my side. move. “

58 . "This is illegal!" "Human laws don't apply to me." "They apply to me!"

59 “no we are not together!! … at least not yet…”

60 "On the count of three, okay?"

61 “Darling I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.”

62 “Is that vodka? At 7 in the morning?”

63 “Every time I think I’m close to finally figuring you out you end up surprising me.”

64 “That is an obscene amount of glitter."

65 "Go away." "You're holding me you idiot." "So mean."

66 “I can’t believe you brought an extra one just for me.”

67 "What the hell did I just walk into?"

68 What do you want me to do? Throw popcorn at them?”

69 “Oh my gosh, wait, is this legal?” “To be honest, I’m not sure.”

70 “there are rumors about us.” “I know I spread them.”

71 “am i your favorite?" "i like your dog a bit more than you, i won't lie."

180 notes · View notes

literaila · 4 years

Text

these memories live with me

spencer reid x reader

summary: a collection of letters the reader writes to spencer :D

warnings: fluffy. kinda cute. there are memories. some inferences to death. nothing too bad. and bad writing.. but yeah

****

Spencer,

Do you remember the time we went to the beach?

You swore to me, over and over, that you weren't going.

“Y/N, there is an average of 3,536 fatal drownings at the beach each year, not to mention the boat accidents. We aren't going.”

I just laughed. I was pretty sure you’d never actually been to the beach before that. It didn't seem like it, seemed more like you were trying to protect us from danger that wasn't there. I’m not sure if it was for me or for you.

Do you remember laughing? Do you remember how much fun we had? How sunburned we were the next day?

Do you remember me running away from you, throwing me in the water? Do you remember that little boy coming up and asking you to build a sandcastle with you? Do you remember getting dinner later that night and spilling sand onto the booth? You hated that. Do you remember the glow we had for days after? The cold showers we had to take?

I don't think anything could’ve wiped the smile off of your face that day. Before that, I don't think I’d ever seen you have so much fun.

You’re usually so reserved, usually, you throw out facts to fill the silence, and explain to me everything about everything. Except for you. You never really told me anything about you before that. But that day, god that day you just lit up. Suddenly nothing had to be kept secret, suddenly you weren't afraid to be yourself, weren't afraid to tell me about the books you were reading, the thoughts you were thinking, the interesting little things that I didn't know could be so interesting.

That day you told me about your Mom. You told me how you’d always felt guilty, guilty for not being there for her, guilty for letting her be alone all the time, you told me that you wished you could visit more, that your Mom deserved more visits, more time with her only family. You told me that you could never get the image of her begging you not to go to the hospital, to stay home, out of your head. You told me that was the one thing you wished you could forget. That having a memory like yours was only good when you needed to be a textbook.

You told me that you felt really tired.

But you were smiling. You were telling me all these things about you, all these things that would break a normal person down, that would crush anyone else's bones in half, but you were saying all of these horrible things, all of these things I wished I could erase from existing, and you were smiling.

I still can't imagine how you were still smiling.

I can't imagine how you could tell me all of that and still have fun, still mention loving the beach after we left. I can't imagine how that could be a happy memory for you. But I’m glad it was. I’m glad I was the first person to introduce you to the joys of the beach.

You have always been stronger, been so much better, so much more than everyone else. I will never know how you turned out to be such an amazing person. I will never understand how good you are. I will never understand.

But I still know that I wouldn't change a thing about you.

You always smiled with me. I’ve never known why.

That day at the beach you introduced a new side of yourself to me, you decided to tell me the truth, but you also didn't allow me any room to feel bad for you. You decided to smile instead, and ask me if I wanted to go swimming.

That's one of my favorite days with you. One of my favorite nights.

I wish we had taken more pictures. Wish I could look at you smiling all the time, and wish that I had more memories of that day.

Do you remember going to the beach?

That was fun.

She sighed and dropped her pen. She rubbed her eyes. Maybe it was time for bed.

Spence,

Do you remember going to that pottery class?

From our bed, I can see the distorted pot that we made together.

You were the one who set up the date. We wanted to try something new together, something that wasn't just a movie. You said pottery was the perfect thing. And while I complained before going, secretly I was happy to go with you. Mostly because you were so excited.

You explained it all to me before we were there, told me about the proper way to make a clay pot, the best way to spin on a wheel, you explained everything to me before we even left the car, crammed all that information into your brain for that one date.

It was adorable.

Your eyes were so bright that night, you looked so excited to be able to learn something new with me, even though you basically already knew how to do everything. You were practically buzzing in anticipation on the way over, you were jumping up and down in my car and you were still smiling.

I love your smile.

Have I ever mentioned that? That I love it almost as much as I love you? It's one of my favorite things about you, one of the only things that never ceases to make me amazed- besides your brain of course -because it's so beautiful. I hope you know that.

But once we got there you pulled me out of the car, barely letting me get the keys out of the ignition. You begged me to hurry up,

“This is exciting Y/N, come on!”

And once we were in there, we had no idea what we were doing.

Apparently, reading and watching videos is not the same as doing it.

I think you were upset about that.

I think you wanted to impress me, wanted to show me what amazing things we could make together. But, when we finally got to sit down, both of us were not really paying attention. I think it's partly your fault we weren't listening to the instructor because you told me you knew how to do it, but you’ve always disagreed and said it was my fault.

In the end, we left with muddy hands, dirty clothes, and what looks like an oval-shaped vase.

I love that vase.

You got mad at me for putting it on display. Secretly I think you love it too.

I can feel how warm you were even while writing this, I can still imagine your soft breath on my neck, the kisses you gave my neck and cheeks when we did something right together. I can still feel your hands on mine, trying to intertwine but never quite making it due to the slick.

I still smile when I think of the pout on your face when the wheel stopped spinning.

Although we have a terribly made pot sitting in our house due to your idea of a date, I’m glad we went. I’m glad I got to spend time with you. I’m glad that we have this memory, one that isn't perfect, just for the two of us. I’m glad we can look back on that night and laugh at it. I’m glad you decided that making pottery was a good idea.

I’m glad that you enjoyed it as much as you did. Before and after.

I’m glad you got the chance to plan something for us, I’m glad we found time in between your busy schedule. I’m glad I still have the pot.

But I will admit, my favorite part of that night was sitting in your lap.

Her head was falling from her body. Nothing could keep it up. Maybe some more sleep would help.

Love,

Do you remember our first fight?

Do you remember how scared I was, how used I was to all of my boyfriends leaving at any sign of danger, how terrified I was of you leaving me? Of you changing your mind.

Because I was, I was so terrified.

I will admit I don't have the best taste in men, that I choose guys that are bound to hurt me because I’m afraid, I’m afraid that I’m unloveable, I’m afraid that everyone will leave, that I’m not good enough for anyone to stay. I’m afraid that no matter what, nothing will last for me because that's just how I am, that's just how it's supposed to be. I was always afraid that the cards I had would never change.

So, when you got mad, when I got upset, when we decided that it was time to fight, that not everything could be perfect for us, I froze.

We were fighting over some silly little thing, about me going out late, being out too late for you. And looking back, I can see that you were just scared. I can see that it didn't matter how safe I could be, that you knew what kind of evil was in the world, that you understood all the bad people more than I could ever imagine. I can see that you just wanted me to be safe, that you just didn't want anything bad to happen for me. Looking back, and seeing the expression that remained on your face, the little bit of concern, the frustration which I now know was directed at yourself, rather than me. You were always so frustrated with yourself for wanting to keep me safe.

I can see why you were upset now. I can understand it. But, I can also see myself, and I can see how annoyed I was with you taking care of me, I can see how annoying it was that you thought I couldn't take care of myself.

I think that's why we started fighting.

I think that even though my past was a big part of my fear, I think I was also scared because I knew you were just trying to protect me. I knew that you were only doing whatever you could to keep me from all the bad things you saw every day.

I think I was scared that you would leave, that you would see I didn't want to be controlled, that one of us would leave and that would be it.

I remember crying. Do you remember that? Do you remember the sobs that came out of my mouth once I saw what was happening, once I realized that we were actually fighting, that we were not perfect like I thought we were?

I remember you being scared of my tears. I remember your face turning from irritation and concern to shock and worried. I can still hear your voice begging me to stop crying, that I didn't need to cry, that there was nothing wrong.

I can still see the hurt in your eyes at my fear. I can still see how much it hurt you that I was upset.

I can still hear you saying “I’m not going anywhere baby, shh, I’m not going anywhere without you beautiful.”

I’m not sure how you knew exactly what to say, but you did.

Sometimes, when I’m upset, when I don't feel good, I play your voice, your words on repeat in my head. I listen to your calm reassuring voice, I listen to the warmth that masked everything you said to me even then when our relationship was so young.

I’ve always chosen bad guys, always picked from the bunch of people I knew would leave me, the people I knew I wouldn't get too attached too because I didn't want that. I didn't want to make a commitment and then lose it. I’ve always thought like that, always picked the people I decided to love like that.

Except for you.

I chose to love you because you were worth it. Because I knew that even if you left, even if we couldn't be together forever, that you were worth it, that even a day with you was better than nothing at all. Even when we didn't know each other well, I knew that.

I’ve always thought you were so much better than everyone else.

I was right.

I’m so glad that our small fights taught us so much about each other.

She yawned and looked at the clock. It was too late. She wasn't supposed to be up. She went to bed before anybody got there.

Pumpkin,

Do you remember the first time I told you I love you?

Because I do. Because I still live in that moment sometimes. My epiphany.

I remember driving with you, for twelve hours, because that's what we liked to do. We liked to spend all day in the car together, all day just talking and listening to music and watching the world pass behind us. I remember that.

Sometimes, I still want to go on long drives with you like I used to.

I loved that so much.

I remember you complaining about the music, I remember you looking over to me and covering your ears, I remember laughing.

I remember you smiling at my laugh. You always smiled when I laughed.

I remember asking you if you wanted something if there was any place you wanted to stop before I started driving home.

At that point, I already knew I loved you. Before that moment it was clear to me that I loved you. It was the feeling of stars bursting in my stomach, the intense want to be around you whenever I could, the tears in my eyes at your pain, the laugh in my voice at just your smile.

It was your warmth, your undying kindness, your much too willing acceptance of who I was. It was everything about you that I loved. There was nothing that I didn't love about you.

But, in the end, I think it was your smile.

Your smile always paved the way for me, always brightened up every day, always made me feel better, always filled my heart with nothing but bold emotions, with nothing but everything that I was feeling at once.

Your smile was always so intense, always so loud and bright, always there when it could be because you rarely stopped smiling.

I think that's what I loved most about it, that you never stopped.

And, at that moment when you smiled at me, your happiness was as plain as day, at that moment, I couldn't stop myself from telling you that I was in love with you.

Spencer, I know you’ve denied this before, I know that you’ve always said that you were never shocked, that it wasn't too fast because you loved me too.

But you were surprised. Your face was frozen for a moment, and you looked at me, not in a bad way, no you never looked at me in a bad way, but this was an expression that I had never seen come from you before, this was something entirely new.

You looked like you were in awe.

Like you couldn't believe I could love you like you had just imagined the words in your head like they weren't actually real.

And no matter how much you deny it, I know the truth. I don't need your words to confirm it.

But after I blurted out the words, looked shocked at myself, after that, you looked at me and finally asked

“Is it because I don't like this song?”

And I laughed again. And you smiled again.

I love you.

I will always love you.

The tears running down her face were nothing. The hand rubbing her shoulder was nothing.

Spence,

My shoulders hurt today.

I’m not sure why. I haven't been doing much. I never really do much when you aren't here.

But my shoulders hurt.

I wish you were here. Whenever my shoulders hurt and you’re in bed, you always offer to give me a back rub, always persist at my initial refusal, always tell me that you just want to be close to me for a little while.

And you’d always whisper little things to me, always telling me how beautiful I was, how amazing I looked without any makeup on, how incredibly harsh I was on myself. You were always telling me just how proud of me you were, just how much work you’d seen me do, you always made sure to let me know that I was appreciated.

As if I wouldn't know that by the look in your eyes.

I wish you were here now so I could feel that again. So I could feel your hands rub up and down my back, so I could feel the warm pressure you always use to get out the knots. I wish I could hear your voice in my ear, the breath on my cheek. I wish I could ask you to rub my shoulders, not take it for granted this time.

I miss you, Spence.

My shoulders are sore without you.

Come back soon.

She didn't utter a word after that.��

Dr. Reid,

When we first met, when you first explained to me about your job, you persisted the fact that you weren't going to be there all the time, that I wouldn't get you whenever I wanted like a normal boyfriend. You told me that we were going to have to work to be together, that our relationship would take work, that you understood if I didn't want to do that if it was too much for me.

And I don't think you ever understood.

Although I knew that you were going to be gone a lot, that it would be hard nights alone, cold nights waiting for you on the couch. That there were going to be nights when I might regret it, nights that I might miss you so much that I’d wish that we had never known each other in the first place. I knew that there were going to be days where I was lonely, days that you couldn't help me with my feelings, days when you had to be an agent first, and a boyfriend second. I knew that my attachment issues were going to be a struggle, that it was going to take more work on my part to be okay with you leaving all the time, that it was going to be hard to be so far apart from you for so long.

I knew all of these things.

And you’d warned me about them, you’d looked at me with hard eyes and explained everything, explained everything as if it would matter to me. You frowned for the longest time, and all I could remember was wishing for your smile.

You didn't understand then, and I still don't think you understand.

I could never leave you. I could never ever let go of you.

Almost as soon as we’d met, you became like a drug to me, so relaxing, so amazing, so perfect. I knew that I was obsessed with you far too quick, that my addiction was too intense too fast. I knew that, but you never did.

You never understood how much I tried to resist, tried to keep myself apart from you so that I couldn't become addicted, you never knew how much I had failed at doing that.

Two months in, and you warned me, but it was too late at that point. Your warning wouldn't do a thing because you were a drug I couldn't get off of, you were something that was permanently attached to me.

You never understood that.

I wish I understood more.

She fell asleep at her desk. Pen in hand.

Spencer,

I remember the first time you told me you loved me.

I remember how elated I felt, how high my heart had soared.

It was a couple weeks after I told you, a couple of weeks of pretending I wasn't hurt by your hesitation, a couple of weeks of trying to come to terms with the fact that you didn't love me yet.

It was a rough couple of weeks for me.

But you erased all of it, every inch when you mumbled the words while we were watching that movie, the one I can't remember the name of because I was so distracted by you.

You have always been so amazing to me.

Always so loyal, always so devoted.

There has never been anyone who has loved anyone as much as I love you. I don't think any amount of words, any synonym for love will compare with how I feel.

It's unfortunate I can't tell you exactly.

I’ve always hoped you could feel it. That you didn't need words when you had me.

I remember never being hesitant to say it again after you told me, I remember not being afraid anymore once I knew that you loved me back.

It was a breaking point for us, the start of a new chapter. It was almost an entirely new book.

I’ve always been sure that I loved you more.

But, I think that as long as you loved me even a fraction of an inch as much as I loved you, it would be enough.

It was enough that you loved me.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She lifted her head slightly.

My love,

They think I need to go someplace else. They think I need to getaway.

Emily says I should stop writing.

They all think that it isn't good for me.

I love you.

Spencer,

Do you remember the time you forgot about our anniversary?

Do you remember how tired you were? How exhausted you had been when you got home and I was waiting for you on the couch.

You seemed so disappointed in yourself, so upset for disappointing me.

I was worried about you that day.

Because, no matter what I did, no matter how many things I had planned, that day there weren't enough smiles.

It was okay though.

Because the next day you made up for it. It was a day late, but it was perfect.

Thank you for tying yourself to me.

Thank you for devoting yourself to me.

Thank you for remembering everything I’ve ever told you.

I wish I could remember.

When she handed over the journal, they all pretended not to notice the tear stains ratted along it.

Reid,

I unpacked some of your boxes today.

I moved.

I don't like it in this new apartment.

It's too cold without you. It doesn't smell like you. It doesn't have the bookcases. It doesn't feel like ours anymore.

I unpacked our vase.

And the seashells we collected.

And the movie ticket.

And the polaroid pictures.

And the scrapbook.

I found the ring today.

Spencer,

I love you.

I’ve always loved you.

She sobbed as she pulled at her hair, as she fell to the floor, battered in scars and bruises that would never show up on her skin, battered in nothing but imaginary marks that she didn't think would never go away.

She hated black dresses.

Baby,

You used to call me that.

I miss it.

I went to your funeral today.

I don't think I’ll ever remember you the way I want to.

I wish we had taken more pictures.

Spencer,

This is the last letter for now.

I’m not allowed to write anymore.

Everyone has insisted I get out. So I’m going to.

I’m moving even farther this time.

It's been a year my love.

I miss you. I love you.

Please don't forget about me. I’ll never forget about you.

She slammed the car door. She put on his jacket. She had a long way to drive.

***

Sorry! I was an idiot and something happened while editing.

Heres the taglist (again): @missdowntonabbey @your-eternal-muse @qonble @bisoner @purelypanicking

masterlist here

277 notes · View notes