#lesley smith juniment blurb

[reidsaurora]

ofwilliamandwalter's birthday week celebration!

Welcome one and all to my birthday week celebration! I do wanna preface this by saying, this is different from my birthday challenge (be sure to enter if you haven't).

Emmy, how are you celebrating?

Every day this week leading up to my birthday, I will be posting a different birthday themed imagine!

Below, I have put the schedule of which day I'll be posting an imagine according to which character pairing it is.

Wednesday - Derek Morgan

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Thursday - Castiel

Pairing: Castiel x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Friday - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Midsized!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, some Fluff

Saturday - Dean Winchester

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (subject to change)

Genre: Angst to Fluff (subject to change)

Sunday - Lesley Smith-Juniment

Pairing: Lesley Smith-Juniment x Fem!Reader (subject to change)

Genre: Fluff

Monday - Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (subject to change)

Genre: Fluff

Tuesday - Sam Winchester

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader (subject to change)

Genre: Fluff, possibly some Hurt/Comfort (subject to change)

I am looking forward to posting these imagines for you guys! I hope you guys are looking forward to them!

☆𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒☆

general taglist: @1234-angelika @amythedoctor @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @mrspeacem1nusone @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @kbakery @leigh70 @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @danzalladaggers @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @paintlavillered @jensensgirl @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @gal-obsessed-with-marvel @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @criminalmindsandmarvel @mente-sindescanso @reveriemgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Monkshood (Lesley Blurb)

Request: Reader owns a small local flower shop and meets a man who looks angry and defeated, storming up to ask "Can you please tell me which of these flowers says 'Fuck you?'" - @andiebeaword​ Couple: Lesley Smith-Juniment/Reader Category: Fluff/Comfort Content Warning: None! Word Count: 900

MASTERLIST

He enters your shop on a Saturday morning. You know the matter is serious because there are very few reasons to be upset on the first morning of a long weekend. There are even fewer reasons to be as upset as he is.

And he is upset, you think, but it’s hard to tell as he storms to the counter in the least intimidating manner known to man. The first indication of his rage is still hidden behind eyes that burn with flickering flecks that match the greenery around you. They swim in pools of molasses and honey that haven’t quite mixed all the way together yet.

His breath was running so ragged and hot that he couldn’t quite speak, but when you try to ask him a question, you two speak at the same time.

“Can I help y—“

“I need to kno—“

You pause to let him finish, but he’s huffing and puffing again from trying to speak before he was ready. The red tinge on his face seemed to stretch down below his precariously buttoned shirt that appears to have been thrown on in a hurry.

“Sorry,” he sighs, his hand raising and falling as even that effort seemed too much. But then he continues, bold faced and confident in his convictions, “Can you please tell me which of these flowers says ‘Fuck you?’”

It is, surprisingly, not the first time you’ve heard the question. It is, however, the first time that it’s been asked by someone as precious as him. You could tell by the way the word fuck struggled between his teeth that he didn’t say it often. It was yet another testament to his seriousness, and you decided it was time for you to return his fervor with your own.

“Monkshood,” you say softly, trying to suppress the giggle that’s slithering up your throat.

You see the relief wash over him when you do nothing else to mock him. His hands that had balled up with tension resorted to shaking with open palms, instead.

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You feel obliged to answer, but also don’t want to. You could tell him about the history of wolfsbane being used to kill monsters and men, but it seems silly in this context. Because in front of you was a beautiful man with tears hidden in his eyes that still glowed with an impossible concoction of colors.

“Do you really want to buy them any flowers at all?” you ask, instead.

He seems confused. His head drops to the side and you notice for the first time the way his skin had finally faded back to what was almost certainly its normal shade. Your eyes fell to each of the freckles that adorned his neck and you wondered who found it in them to hurt such a calm and kind creature. The kind that took a knife and turned it into flowers.

He’s still waiting for an explanation. You pause for a moment longer, trying to smile but not finding the strength.

“Haven’t they already taken enough from beautiful things?”

It’s his turn to freeze, but only for a second. The coldness is quickly thawed and replaced with the familiar shades of pink and red that you had almost just started to miss. The blush on his face seems like nothing compared to the warmth you feel inside as you watch him look down at his hands while the realization dawns on him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, quiet in a way that tells you the enormity of what he is feeling. With one long, powerful exhale, he announces his conclusion like a final answer. “Yeah, you’re right.”

That strange man stops once more, like he has just noticed where he is and the usual nature of transactions taken place there. He is embarrassed yet again, and is now almost entirely unable to meet your eye. Because you, the florist, have done nothing but coddle him and call him beautiful. Even at the expense of your own occupation.

“Now I feel bad,” he says through a laugh. You are happy to hear the sound, but sad to hear what follows. Small and shrunken, he mumbles, “I wasted your time.”

But you have a different interpretation. Because just seconds ago, you heard him laugh, and it hardly seemed like a waste. The only question became how to tell him that without sounding as odd or off putting as he really should have been coming in only half-breathing with obscenities.

Subtlety, you decide, is the best route for a man as unsure as he seems. Subtlety and flowers.

“Not a waste,” you hum as your fingers fiddle through flowers behind the desk.

As you draw a red carnation out, you peer into the layers of petals crinkled in on themselves and wish you could hold him as closely. But you decide that for now, the smile that blossoms over his face is enough to hold you over.

He takes the flower from your extended hand and giggles, an honest and sweet sounding expression of only the purest form of joy. He holds it with a similarly childlike enthusiasm that makes you promise yourself to explain to him what the flower means one day.

One day, you think before immediately changing your mind. There is no reason to wait. He is already halfway out the door before you call to him, sharing a smile and one last laugh.

“I hope to see you again.”