#( ─ conversations ; julie spencer. )

[whowantslovergirl]

Female Dr. Reid

Spencer Reid x reader (reader is female with she/her pronouns)

warnings: pen being the cutest matchmaker, spencer has ptsd when it comes to dating, reader has a dr title, post prison spencer (he’s 37 in this), just cute shit 😍 criminal minds masterlist

Summary: When Penelope met Y/n in a coffeehouse and saw how similar her and Spencer were she just had to set them up

posted: July 29, 2024

Penelope was on her way to work when she stopped at the local coffeehouse. She was in line when she saw you waiting for your drink she made a mental note to compliment your shoes. They were dark red pumps and she always wanted a pair.

______

She came over to wait for her drink and she was by you. “I love your pumps.” You look at her. “Oh thank you. I love your outfit.”

“Thank you. I’m Penelope.” She held her hand out for you to shake. You shook your head. “Oh I don’t shake hands, there is so many germs in shaking hands and fun fact it’s actually safer to kiss.” Her jaw dropped. “Oh my god! My co worker is just like that. He has this whole thing with germs and he always says that same exact fact.” She saw your tag for the college down the street from the BAU. “What do you teach?”

“Oh criminology and forensic psychology.”

“Wow I actually work with profilers.” You looked shocked. “Oh my gosh that’s so cool!” You guys talked and talked and she found out that you have three PhDs and the same exact interests.

“My co worker also has three! You guys are just alike. And one more question you look a little young to be a professor how old are you?”

You smiled. “I’m 37 and I started young I graduated high school at 12 and finished college at 16 and all the other stuff when I was 24.” Penelope was shocked at how similar you guys are. She’s big on soulmates and she thinks she just found Spencer’s.

“Y/n!”

“Oh that’s me bye Penelope here’s my card it’s my phone number so just send a text.” You smiled at her and got your coffee and left.

______

“Where’s Spencer?!” Derek looked at the blonde woman shaking with excitement. “Why do you need Spencer?”

“I just met his soulmate!” As she was saying this Spencer came in. “What?” She turned around. “Spencer I just met your soulmate. You have to meet her! She has three phds, loves doctor who, same age and she teaches what we do!”

“Pen you know I’m not dating anymore.” He said while walking away to get his coffee. After Maeve and Cat he can’t fall in love without something going wrong. Pen was hot on his trail. “But you would love her! And she likes her coffee the same exact way! I know I tried it and almost went into a diabetic coma.” Spencer turned around.

“I’m not interested..”

______

“Hey Y/n!” You and Pen were waiting for their coffees after a few conversations they considered each other friends. “Hey Pen!”

“I tried to set you up with my co worker but-.”

“What?! Pen I’m not looking for anyone right now.” Penelope nodded. “But you would love him! He is exactly your type.”

“Pen I’m not interested.”

______

After Pen left with her coffee. You noticed she dropped her id for the FBI. You picked it up and followed her trail. You got a visitor pass and went into the BAU. You saw an attractive tall brunette hair man. “Um hi do you know where Penelope is? She left her id.” Spencer saw you and everything around him stopped. You were absolutely gorgeous even though he had no idea who you were it didn’t matter because you are breathtaking.

“Yea she’s down the hall to the right.” You nodded and went to the room and knocked. “Come in to the dungeon my dear!” You came in. “Hey Pen you left your id.”

“Oh my thank you! I didn’t notice they just let me in. So don’t you have a class?” You shook your head. “It’s an afternoon class and I already planned for it.” You shrugged. “But you have a very attractive co worker.” Her eyes widened. “Which one they are all very attractive.”

“He’s tall, had long brown hair, facial hair, and brown eyes.” She squealed which made you jump. “That’s Spencer! I told you he’s your type!”

“That was Spencer?! I was not at all expecting him to look like that.” She grabbed your hands.

“Oh Y/n pleaseeee let me set you up. I promise you will love him. And he will love you.” After much convincing you nodded and Penelope cried with delight. “You guys are going to have attractive and smart children. Oh my god! Name one of them Penelope. He wants four kids anyway!”

What did you get yourself into?

______

As you were in Penelope’s office, Spencer was talking to Derek about Penelope’s friend. “She was beautiful! And she works at the college down the street because I saw her id. Y/n L/n even her name is beautiful-.” As he was ranting you came out to go to work. “Well bye everyone it was nice meeting you.” You noticed Derek. “Oh hi I’m Y/n.”

“Derek.” He held his hand out to shake. “Oh I don’t shake hands because of all the germs you know it’s actually safer to kiss.” Derek’s eyebrows raised. “Wow Spence you say the same thing!” You just smile. “Well I have to go to work.”

“Um what do you teach? I saw your id.” Spencer asked. “Criminology and forensic psychology.” His eyes widened.

“So you teach what we do.” He smiled. “Yea I guess I do.” You smile back.

“So professor L/n.” Derek added.

“Dr. L/n actually.” You corrected him. Spencer eyes widened even more. “You have a phd?”

“Three actually.” Derek smiled. “Spence also has three.”

“Yea Penelope told me when we first met.”

Then it came to him you are the person Penelope wanted to set him up with. You checked your watch. “I really have to go.”

“Yea I’ll walk you out.” Spencer said while rushing to your side. After you left Spencer darted to Penelope’s office.

“Pen! Was that the girl you want to set me up with?!”

“Yea why?”

“I’m free on Saturday so can you text her that please?” Penelope never been happier. “Yes of course!”

Her plan worked. She purposely left her id so Y/n can get and bring it. And it worked!

Soon Dr. L/n will become Dr. Reid.

An: HOPED YOU ENJOYED MY LOVERS 🤍

[spencereidluver]

A is for About Time

july 07, 2008

summary: You’re paired up with Spencer on a mostly physiological case… He’s impressed with how many of his obscure references you understand and how you’re able to carry on conversations with him unlike anyone else.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: details of a case: strangulation, blood writing

“y/n and Reid, I need you to stay here at the station while the rest of us go search the area.” Hotch said, handing you and Spencer each a file. “There’s information about the case in here. The PD thinks we’re dealing with someone who is able to outsmart that of the normal man. We need both of your heads on this. Got it?”

You and Spencer both nodded. You were smart, no denying it, but you know he knows everything you know times two.

You’ve only been in the BAU six months, but you’d only need to know Spencer two minutes to know just how intelligent he is. You don’t quite understand why Hotch wants you to stay back on this case with him, but who are you to deny the man.

You and Spencer take the Manila folders and make your ways to the conference room. He does a little jog to catch up with you. “You know, I’ve never had anyone else stay back with me on cases like these.” He says as he slows his step to match yours.

“Yeah, we’ll maybe you’ve never had anyone quite on your level Dr. Reid.” you joke as you pull the glass door open. There’s a bulletin board with photos from the case. You see Spencer grimace at them out of your peripheral. No matter how many cases you go on, this is one thing that will never be easy for anyone in this job.

Spencer sprawls out his folder on the half-circle-shaped wooden table in the center of the small office. The first image is a photo from the crime scene. It’s a white brick wall with blood writing, it reads:

“in this moment, she was mine, mine, fair, perfectly pure and good”

“It’s a poem.” He says. “Porphyria’s Lover.”

You interrupt him, “a mid 1800’s poem written by Robert Browning.”

“You’ve heard of it?”

“A poem in which a beautiful woman’s lover strangles her with her own hair? Yeah I’ve heard of it.”

He flips through a few more pages in the folder. They’re all just copies of what’s on the bulletin. You’re not too sure why you were each given folders containing the same pictures, but I guess consistency is key in this job.

“I never took you as an 1800s poem freak, y/n.” He says with a smile that you can’t quite tell the intention behind.

“Maybe you’re not as many levels ahead of me as you thought, Dr. Reid.”

_____

It’s only day two of the case, but between stupid jokes and bonding over old literature, there’s only one thing you cannot seem to pinpoint the reasoning for. And probably the only way you’ll be able to directly connect to the unsub.

He’s working off a dating app. He searches for women who meet his physical criteria, then stalks them until he’s able to pounce. Smart guy. Very smart guy.

“The one thing I just cannot understand is why if the poem he’s working off of is so keen on blonde hair, why have only half of our victims been blondes?” Spencer says, reading through a print-out of the original poem.

“Maybe the women with brown hair were just more available?” You say, not sure if you believe it.

Spencer takes a sip of his coffee. “No, a man like this would want blondes. He’s working of the exact motive of the poem.”

“And he must have a lot of time with his victims to be able to strangle them with their hair.”

You and Spencer spend hours reading over the poem and investigating that photos. Hotch comes back to the station to bring photos from yet another crime scene. Another blonde. If anything, that takes you further from figuring him out, messing up the blonde-brown-blonde-brown victim order.

“There’s no way he’s picking these victims at random. He’d have to spend far too long watching them to know their work schedule to be able to get into their apartments.” Hotch says. “I need you guys to further analyze the poem. It could have the key and hopefully we can find him before he strikes again.”

You and Spencer spend a further hour and a half looking over and annotating the poem. You’re both about to give up on the poem when you notice something: the rhyme scheme.

“A-B-A-B-B,” you think outloud.

“What?” Spencer is confused.

“The rhyme scheme, Spencer. It’s A-B-A-B-B. Auburn-Blonde-Auburn-Blonde-Blonde. That has to be it!”

“So he’ll go back to the beginning. He’s looking for his next victim with auburn hair, just like Julia Dempsey and Katie Flanagan. Nice catch, y/n. We’ve gotta call Hotch.”

He pulls out his phone and dials the eight digits quickly. He fills in Hotch on the info you find as you email over to Garcia. It’s only a matter of time before Morgan and Hotch move in on the man, Garcia finding him from a simple categorical search of dating profile preferences.

_____

You’re sat on the jet next to Spencer on your way home. You’re going on about old literature and artifacts pertaining to them. No one else understands a word either of you are saying, but they’re rather in awe of how the two of you are able to bounce off each other and carry on about, what to them, is utter nonsense.

It’s late. Early. Well, both. 2:47 AM. You’re leaned with your elbow on the table and your head in your hand looking at Spencer as he recites an old poem from memory. His voice is calm and warm. JJ and Emily are asleep in the booths next to you, Hotch minding his own in the back, and Rossi and Morgan make small talk a little closer to the front.

“y/n?” You hear your name being whispered.

You hum in response, opening your eyes to see a wide-eyed Spencer looking at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He says.

“It’s okay. I’m kinda glad you did, my neck would be sore when we land.”

“We’re still three hours from Virginia. Think you can make it that long?”

“Hell no, I’m exhausted.” You cross your arms on the table, laying your head in them as you try to get comfortable.

“That position may feel better on your neck, but it’ll do a number on your back in record time.”

“Well, Spencer, there’s only so much room to work with on this jet.”

“I can move so you can lay in the seat if you’d like. But that could also hurt your neck considering you’ll be lying flat and have no incline.”

“Well then why don’t you tell me the most comfortable position and let me sleep in peace.”

“Studies show the best position for sleeping without a pillow is leaning against a wall or something of an upright nature. But there are no walls to lean up against, so you’re pretty much out of luck there y/n.”

He shifts in his seat, reaching for the blanket behind him. He tosses it at you and settles back down. He sips from his coffee. No wonder he’s not going to sleep, he drinks coffee 15 out of the 24 hours in a day.

You scoot a bit closer to him, wrapping the blanket around yourself. You tip your head forward, groaning. Tiredness overcomes you more than it already has, making it near impossible to even keep your eyes open.

“Hey, Spence…” You look up at him. His head tilts down to meet your gaze, flattening his lips in form of a response. “Can I…” You let your sentence fade out, pushing yourself closer to him.

He softens his voice. “Hmm?”

Before he can even finish his hum your head has slumped on his shoulder and you’re already falling unconscious on him. You feel him reach his arm around you- pulling the blanket up- you assume. He does that, but his arm never leaves. His head flops gently on top of yours, his one unruly waft of hair falling over his face. You could stay like this forever.

“It’s about time those two realize how similar they are.” You hear Rossi’s gravely voice say.

And just like that, you’re asleep, in what is probably the most comfortable you’ve ever been in your life.

_____

next chapter: b is for Boy Genius

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

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a/n: hiii! i really hope you enjoyed the first chapter! chapter 2 will be released tomorrow! sorry if this one was a little boring, i promise the next chapter is more interesting. i'm just trying to set up the story a little before we get into it!

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

_____

[hayleythesugarbowl]

YOO REQUESTS OPEN? can I get a Angela x reader celebrating Fourth of July??

Red, White, and You || Angela Giarratana x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you and the rest of the smosh cast go to angela’s place to celebrate the fourth of july, angela makes sure you two get your own celebration

word count:��1.2k

warnings: none

a/n: i’m sorry i couldn’t resist making the title cheesy 🤭anyways, hey girl hey! i tried to get this to you asap + closer to fourth of july but life got in the way so here you go, better late than never ig? i also have no idea what angela’s place looks like so for the purpose of this fic she’s got a house with a pool bc i say so 💋

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “It’s a blender!”

     “It’s a unicycle!”

     “No, It’s clearly a cabbage patch doll.”

     You stared up at the darkening sky as you listened to the chatter of your friends and coworkers around you, watching them play ‘guess the cloud shape’.

     “They’re all wrong,” Angela leaned towards you. “It’s a bunny on a toilet.”

     You giggled, turning towards her as her eyes sparkled. 

     You and the rest of the Smosh cast had decided to celebrate the Fourth of July together and Angela had offered her place for the gathering.

     You looked around you at her backyard, admiring the layout—the table now filled with snacks and drinks, the small flames still visible in the fire pit, the calm surface of the empty pool, the red white and blue lights that had been strung over the perimeter. 

     Naturally, you’d been to her house many times, but you’d never actually been outside. Especially when it was so festively decorated. 

     You and Angela had started dating a few weeks ago, but you’d known her much longer, being her coworker and acquaintance long before you’d admitted your feelings for each other.

      Now, you turned to her as the rest of the party, spread out and laying back on the grass, was still focused on the clouds. 

     “It’s always a bunny on a toilet with you,” you teased.

     “Caught me.” She rolled her eyes at you as she twisted from her leaned-back position to kiss you.

     “Get a room!” Chanse called from his spot a few feet over, throwing popcorn at you and Angela.

     Angela picked up a piece and ate it, shrugging.

     “Hey!” She shouted back. “At least I have a date.”

     You would have chided Angela for being rude if you weren’t busy thinking what it would be like to get a room with Angela. 

     It wasn’t that you weren’t—and hadn’t been—enjoying the party and hanging out with everyone. But, as your eyes flicked to your girlfriend in her American flag print bikini top and baggy shorts you couldn’t help wishing it was just the two of you. You would start, you thought, by pointing to her adorable outfit and telling her to—

     “Take it off!” 

     Yeah, pretty much that. 

     You turned to Chanse who had spoken. His gaze was directed at Angela, who had his empty popcorn bucket on her head. 

     “It’s fashionable!” Angela defended, modeling her new hat. You rolled your eyes at her, smiling despite yourself.

     “Did someone say fashionable?” Ian turned around, joining the conversation as he gestured to his shirt.

     “That thing and fashionable don’t go in the same sentence, my guy,” Courtney patted his arm without turning around.

     “Anthony, back me up,” Ian said, tapping his best friend on the shoulder.

     “Peak fashion.” Anthony shot him a thumbs up, continuing his conversation with Arasha. 

     “Yeah, my grandpa has the same one,” Angela joked. “Creepy eagle and all.”

     Ian clutched his chest in mock offense as Amanda turned around from her spot in front of you and Angela. 

     “Angela, when did you say the fireworks were starting? I don’t want to stay out all night,” she said.

     “Dude, it’s 9:15,” Spencer said.

     “And I need my beauty sleep,” Amanda defended, flipping her hair.

     “Should be any minute now,” Angela told her. 

     “How did you get someone to do a firework show?” You asked Angela. 

     Angela turned back to you, laying a hand on your leg. “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

     You trailed your fingers along her hand and then up her arm, tracing patterns on her bicep. 

     She smiled, her voice coming out breathy as she said, “Alright fine, I guess a magician can make exceptions.”

     You enjoyed having this effect on Angela—especially because you knew damn well she had the same effect on you—and you couldn’t help grinning to yourself as she continued.

     “Real talk, I didn’t set them up. Just have a pyro neighbor who lights like a million fireworks every year.”

     You chuckled. “Well, your secret’s safe with me.”

     Suddenly, laughter erupted from your friends in front of you. 

     “What?” Angela shouted. “What did I miss?”

     As you watched everyone cracking up and talking over each other—and Angela still trying to figure out the joke she hadn’t heard —you leaned back and took in a breath. It was mostly dark now, the stars visible and the clouds long gone.

     The fireworks started then. First only a few popping sound, and then the sky was alight with bursts of color.

     A cheer erupted before everyone became silent as you all began watching the show.

     Angela leaned back, closer to you, and you placed a kiss on her temple.

     She closed her eyes for a moment before snapping them open, a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

     “I almost forgot,” she whispered, “I have a surprise for you.”

     You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

     She smiled, standing up quietly and holding a finger to her lips, motioning for you to be quiet.

     You looked at her expectantly as you stood, grabbing her hand. 

     Angela? Quiet?

     Your position with Angela behind the rest of your friends came in handy as she led you away from the group, no one noticing or even turning their head. 

    She led you through her house, both of you giggling in your efforts to stay silent—though for what only she knew—and up to the balcony that overlooked her backyard below.

    Opening the door, she stepped to the side and waited for you.

     You put your hand to your mouth in surprise. Her patio was transformed into what could only be described as a cozy hangout. Fairy lights wound around the wooden boards, bean bags and blankets covered the floor surface, and there was a mini fridge to one side, complete with drinks and an array of pies. 

     “Wow,” you took in the setup that Angela had prepared. “You did all this?”

     Angela smiled sheepishly at you. “Yeah, I wanted us to be able to have our own little celebration—if you want.”

     You beamed at her, nodding. Angela grabbed your hand and you let her lead you to the blankets in front of you. You sat down and Angela joined you, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

     From here you could see everyone down below. You felt like you were in a separate world, observing everything from a distance.

     You leaned your head on Angela’s shoulder and watched the firework show, still bright and spectacular as ever. 

     This was perfect, you thought. The evening alone with Angela that you had been wanting.

     You brought your lips to hers. “Thank you, this is amazing.”

     “Anything for my little bunny on a toilet. Besides, I’ve been waiting to be alone with you all night.”

     You felt yourself blushing as she echoed your thoughts. “Yeah?”

     “Yeah.” She brought her lips to your neck. Your ear. Your jawline. And finally your lips.

     She pulled away and grinned at you, her voice rough. “You’re really sexy when you’re flustered.”

     “How do you know I’m flustered?” You shot back, but your voice betrayed you. 

     “Because I’m flustered,” she started. “So I can only imagine what you’re feeling.”

     You scoffed but you nestled closer to her and she wrapped her arm even tighter around you. 

     “Happy fourth,” you whispered.

     “Happy fourth,” Angela said back.

     And then you were silenced by a particularly loud firework, the explosion lighting up the sky and illuminating Angela’s face next to you. 

      You could have asked for a better celebration, you thought, as you leaned in to kiss her once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this darlings!! always love writing for angela 🎀

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Fourth of July

Description: You & the team go see the fireworks for the fourth of July, you have a trauma response to the loud noise.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: PTSD, blood mention

A/N: Repost :)

“What are the odds that this is the second holiday in a row that a case hasn’t come in?” Rossi mused excitedly.  

The entire team was huddled in a circle in the bullpen, waiting for Emily to finish up some last minute paperwork before heading out as a group for the night. 

Spencer’s finger shot up in the air. “Statistically speaking–”

“Nope,” Rossi cut him off sharply. “It was a rhetorical question, genius.”

Spencer’s mouth fell shut, but a smile lingered on his lips.  

You felt Luke shift from behind you, where you leaned between his legs as he sat perched on his own desk. “No, c’mon,” he chuckled. “I wanna know the statistics!”  

You shook your head, rolling your eyes playfully. Your boyfriend was always so interested in whatever random facts Spencer was spewing out.

Reid raised his eyebrows at Rossi, as if to say, see? I told you I was interesting, but before he could actually finish his tidbit, Emily walked out of her office with all her things gathered in her hand. 

“Who’s ready for some fireworks?” she asked excitedly. 

Everyone but you cheered. 

Ever since you’d gotten back from your tour in Iraq, you’d been uneasy around loud noises. It was nothing you weren’t aware of, and certainly nothing out of the ordinary for someone who had seen combat. But it also wasn’t something that you’d told Luke about yet. You planned to, of course, just like you planned on sharing practically everything with him… eventually. But Iraq wasn’t something you could ever talk about with ease, and you knew that disclosing your fears would involve a conversation about why you had them in the first place. 

That’s why you found yourself agreeing to join the rest of the team’s Fourth of July plans when Garcia had invited you and Luke earlier that week. 

“Sounds fun,” you had lied straight through your teeth. You’d been dreading it ever since. 

But Luke would be there. His safe arms would no doubt be wrapped around you, much like they were now. And you planned on funneling all your energy into focusing on the way that felt, rather than the chaos and noise around you. 

The team planned on watching the fireworks on the riverbend downtown. They’d be set off across the water, giving you all a perfect view. Garcia promised greasy food from vendors and other sweet treats throughout the night. You kept trying to convince yourself that it wouldn’t all be bad. You just had to concentrate on not flinching everytime a firework popped off.  

You rode with Luke, your fingers laced together and resting on the center console as he navigated through traffic. The rest of the team would meet you guys there. You thought you were doing a fair job at concealing your anxiety as you made small talk with him during the short ride. He showed no inclination of knowing about the knots tying themselves tighter and tighter inside your stomach. 

There were a lot more people at the river than you’d originally anticipated. But Luke easily managed to find a parking spot, and the two of you waited by the trunk of his car until the rest of the team arrived.  

Emily, Tara, Garcia Spencer, and Rossi all rode together. They were the first to find a spot right next to yours and join the two of you. Next, JJ and Will filed in, with no kids for the evening. Lastly, Matt and Kristy arrived, hand in hand with matching smiles on their faces.  

You were like a big, giant, extended family weaving your way through the crowd of people. There were vendors and food trucks lines along the riverbend. Kids ran around with sticks of cotton candy and sparklers. 

You found a spot amidst the crowd to lay down the blanket. It almost felt like a picnic when you all sat down. You sat in front of Luke, a foot or so away, rummaging through your bag for your phone. You let out a gasp when you felt his hands grip your hips and pull you backwards, between his legs, your back against his chest.  

He leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek. You smiled into his touch, appreciating how safe and secure you always felt in his arms. If you could stay like this all night, you just might be okay. 

The sun started to set across the riverbed, leaving in its wake a brilliantly pink and purple sky. For a while, you just stayed like that, Luke’s arms coiled around you, your head leaned back and resting on his chest, watching the violet hues from the sunset fade into darkness. 

“I can’t believe you’ve lived in Virginia all this time and have never seen the fireworks here,” Garcia gawked at Spencer. He was sitting on the blanket, his arms behind him as he leaned back.   

“I’m not a big fireworks guy,” Spencer shrugged. “I don’t see the appeal.”

“Well you’ve been going to the wrong fireworks shows then, because this is going to blow your freakishly smart mind,” Garcia promised. 

Luke shifted behind you, sitting up a little straighter. 

“Where can I get one of those?” Luke asked, intrigued as he sees a small boy run by with a cone of chocolate ice cream. 

“Ice cream truck’s this way,” Garcia grinned, pointing her finger to the array of food trucks parked about 50 yards away. “Follow me.”

You instantly felt the absence of Luke’s arms when he stood up. It left you cold and shivering. 

“Want anything, baby?” he asked, looking down at you.  

You shook your head apprehensively. 

“I’ll be right back.”

You smiled up at him. You weren’t sure if it was to reassure him or yourself that you’d be okay while he was gone. 

The air was brisk and Luke still wasn’t back when the first firework went off. 

You saw it shoot up into the air, a vibrant white streak of color contrasting with the night sky, before it actually popped. But no amount of planning could have prepared you for the sound. It was deafening and loud and it made your entire body go rigid with fear.  

You looked around and you could see that you weren’t in Iraq. So why did the night air feel so hot and dry? Why did the soft blanket beneath your legs suddenly feel coarse and sandy? 

You had zoned out enough to not be ready for the second firework to pop off. When it did, the sound made you jump. And instantly, you were transported back to the desert. In your mind you could see, clear as day, the rest of your squad ducking behind the army truck beside you. You’ve got your gun clutched to your chest while bullets whizzed all around you, making it hard to concentrate. The loud sound of gunfire ringing in your ears was all consuming.  You didn’t recognize the man crouched next to you. You barely even noticed him until his scream interrupted the steady sound of gunfire. When you looked over, his hand was pressed against his stomach, his eyes looking down at the fresh bullet hole in his abdomen. The diameter of blood on his uniform expanded rapidly. 

“No, no, no–” you gasped, throwing your gun down to help him apply pressure to the wound. Your hands were shaking so violently, you could barely trust them to help, but you had to try. 

“P-please,” his words were clouded by the blood that was spilling out from his mouth. “Please help me.”

“You’re gonna be okay,” you told him, your voice wavering.  

He let out a choppy exhale, blood spraying out of his lips. It was like you both knew it wasn’t true. 

Someone was yelling your name, it sounds like your Lieutenant. But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the man beneath you. You were scared that the second you looked away, he’d be gone. 

You heard your name again, but this time, it sounded closer, and the voice is softer– more familiar. It was accompanied by a hand shaking your shoulder. 

When you turned your head, hopeful that someone was finally here to help, you were surprised to see Spencer’s face gazing back at you. You blinked harshly and when you opened your eyes again, the sand was gone.  

There was no man bleeding in your lap, no gunfire, no war.  

Just Spencer’s worried gaze. 

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, trying not to draw the attention of anyone else.  

Your heart was racing, so much so that you think if you looked down, you could see it beating underneath your own skin. There was adrenaline and fear rushing through your veins. But instead of telling him the truth, you just nodded.  

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered, your mouth dry. “I ju-just, I don’t feel good.” 

It was a bad excuse, and one that Spencer clearly didn’t buy. But you needed a reason to get out of there. So, confused, dazed, and panicked, you stood up from the blanket and hurried off in the direction you thought was safety. 

…

Luke made his way back to the blanket, laughing at something Garcia had said. 

“Keep it up with all this ice cream and soon enough you won't be able to chase criminals.”

He faked being offended. 

But when he made his way back to the rest of the team, he was startled to see that you weren’t there. Before Luke could ask, Spencer was standing up and walking towards him and Garcia. 

“Hey,” he said discreetly. “Y/N took off, like- just a few minutes ago. I asked if she was okay, but she just said she didn’t feel good. I don’t know- she didn’t look okay,” he admitted.  

“Was she sick?” Luke asked, instantly worried. 

Spencer shrugged, “She looked out of it- really spooked. I tried to keep my eye on her, but I lost her in the crowd.”  

Reid pointed towards the massive gathering of people. “It looked like she was heading towards the cars,” he told Luke. 

Without hesitating, Luke just nodded, handing his ice cream to a concerned-looking Garcia, before spinning on his feet and following in the direction that Reid was pointing.  

He pushed against the crowd of people, keeping his eyes peeled only for you.  Only when he got to the parking lot did Luke’s shoulders relax even the slightest. From across the lot, he saw his truck, and a small figure leaning over near it that could only be you. 

Luke exhaled, relieved that he at least was able to find you, before walking closer. 

As he approached, he quickly realized that something was wrong. You were doubled over, your hands resting on your knees. At first, Luke thought you were getting sick, but as he got closer, he heard the unmistakable sound of your muffled cries. 

That made him pick up his pace. 

“Hey-” he said. “What’re you doing over here?” But there was no indication that you even heard him. Instead, you let out a shaky sob and stumbled on your feet. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hurried over, reaching out to steady you. 

As soon as his hand landed on your hip you whipped around, standing up straight while your entire body flinched at the contact. The sharp gesture caused Luke to pull away, momentarily shocked. 

But when he saw your face, eyes red rimmed and tears streaming down your face, his chest tightened. As a veteran, he’d seen this kind of dazed and panicked look before. He just had no idea he’d ever see it from you. 

“L-Luke?” you said, like you couldn’t quite believe it was him. 

He cautiously nodded, not wanting to make any more sudden movements that would startle you. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me.”

The affirmation was all you needed to rush over to him. At first he was rigid when you collided with his chest, your arms wrapping around his back craving the safety of his embrace.  

He placed a gentle hand on your back, and once he realized you weren’t going to flinch again, he wound his arms all the way around you tightly. 

For a while, neither one of you said anything. You clung to him like your life depended on it and Luke just held you reassuringly, knowing that was exactly what you needed. 

It wasn’t until he heard you mumble something into his chest that he even considered letting go. 

“What?” he asked, leaning back so that he could look down at you.  

“He bled out-” you repeated. “Right in my lap.”

Luke didn’t have to ask you for clarification. And even though he knew very little about your time in Iraq, he understood. “Was it the fireworks?” he asked gently, rubbing his hands up and down your shivering arms. 

You nodded slowly, still not meeting his gaze. 

“Loud noises in general trigger it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked sympathetically. He felt so guilty for encouraging you to attend such a loud event. Had he had any idea loud noises were a trigger for you, he would have insisted you spend the Fourth of July curled up on the couch with takeout instead. 

You rubbed your wet eyes with the palms of your hands, unable to imagine how pathetic you looked to Luke right now. “I-I have a hard time talking about it.”

Luke nodded, urging you to continue. 

“I have a hard time talking about Iraq, so I-I didn’t feel like explaining.”

“Oh baby,” he sighed. He pulled you into his chest once again, this time his chin resting on top of your head comfortingly. You were consumed entirely by his embrace, and the shaking that had been wracking your entire body was finally starting to ease. 

“I thought I’d be okay,” you admitted into his chest. “But as soon as you left it just was too much.”

You heard Luke sigh into your hair before pulling back. He held you out in front of him, his two arms placed securely on your arms. His brown eyes stared captivatingly into yours. “You can always tell me these things, okay?” he insisted.  “I want you to, because I understand.  I don’t like loud noises either. I’ve been dreading this all week. I only agreed to come because I thought you’d want to.”

It felt like a relief to finally let out a light chuckle. “Are you serious?” you asked him in disbelief. 

He nodded, returning the smile. 

“So you would’ve been happy just staying home tonight?”

“I would’ve preferred it,” he said through a chuckle. 

You scoffed. “Well that would’ve saved me a lot of embarrassment.”

“Next year, yeah?”

You nodded, once again falling into his arms, this time with much greater ease. You were amazed at how quickly he was able to calm you down. 

“I feel safer when you’re around,” you admitted. 

You felt his arms tighten around you before he said, “Well lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

[godsfavdarling]

chapter 06

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!oc

summary: In the summer heat, Molly and Spencer's relationship flourished, filled with intense moments during the hot days.

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3, my masterlist

warnings: oral sex (female receiving, male receiving)

words: 1,8k

As the school year came to an end and summer unfolded with its July heat, Molly and Spencer found solace in each other's company. Their relationship, blooming slowly, had become a source of comfort and joy.

In the midst of the sweltering summer days, they had shared a few heated make-out sessions, their lips coming together in moments of passion. 

However, beyond these intense exchanges, their relationship had yet to venture into further territories. The heat of the season seemed to mirror the simmering anticipation between them.

Now, in the midst of the summer heat, they sat together on Spencer's couch, indulging in ice cream.

Molly embraced the summer with her outfit – a charming short, sleeveless, red floral dress adorned with buttons. The dress featured delightful ruffle details on the shoulder straps and front, adding a touch of whimsy to her vibrant ensemble. 

The heat lingered in the air, making conversation unnecessary.

In the midst of savoring their ice cream, Spencer's gaze wandered, drawn to Molly's bare thighs. He couldn't help but be captivated by her simple yet alluring presence.

Then Spencer's attention shifted, fixating on Molly's lips.

The way she savored the treat seemed to mesmerize him, and his gaze lingered on the subtle movements of her mouth. 

His heart raced, skipping a beat each time that he watched the ice cream slip free. He could feel the slickness of her lips, the pillowy, malleable softness of her. He could taste the sweetness of the firm muscle of her tongue.

Molly, aware of Spencer's lingering gaze, let out a soft, amused laugh. Meeting his eyes with a playful twinkle, she continued to enjoy her snack, savoring each bite with a delightful combination of mischief and shared understanding.

Caught in the playful exchange with Molly, he found it increasingly difficult to suppress the suggestive thoughts that danced in his mind. 

The combination of her laughter, the summer heat, and the intimacy of the moment fueled a growing sense of desire.

As they both finished their ice cream, Molly, sensing the weight of Spencer's gaze, couldn't help but inquire, "What?". Her question held a playful curiosity, inviting Spencer to share the thoughts.

Feeling the charged atmosphere between them, Molly took matters into her own hands. With a hint of impulsive desire, she grabbed Spencer's shirt and pulled him closer, initiating a passionate kiss that left them both breathless.

Sensing the growing heat of the moment, Spencer found himself laying on top of her. Molly, moving under him, responsive to the desire that enveloped them, could feel the undeniable hardness against her thigh.

Spencer, caught in the passionate momentum, trailed a series of kisses down Molly's jawline and neck, eliciting a delightful squirm from her. 

As he reached her chest, he looked up, a silent question in his eyes. Molly, nodded in agreement.

Spencer's hands skillfully began to unbutton the first few buttons of her dress. As they parted, revealing her bare skin beneath, the absence of a bra heightened the sensation. Spencer was met with the captivating sight of her.

He started to press gentle kisses on her breasts while his hands roamed around her hips. Taking one nipple in his mouth, he began to suck it softly, then treated the other one with the same care. Molly couldn't suppress the moan escaping her lips.

They had never gone this far, and she didn't know what to expect from Spencer. She knew he was a great and very attentive kisser, but they hadn't done much yet.

As Spencer enjoyed the feeling of her hard nipples on his tongue, she put her hands in his hair, rocking her hips, seeking more friction. Spencer gazed at her, and she reciprocated, meeting his eyes.

"Would you let me go down on you? That's all I can think about." Spencer asked, his eyes lingering on Molly.

"Ummm... I... I didn't shave. I didn't know we would..." Molly replied, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

Spencer stopped her. "I don't care. I'm a grown man. Come on." He placed a kiss on her cheek. "Can I?" he repeated.

"Okay... Yes. Yes, you can!" she giggled, and so did he.

He grabbed her hands and pulled her up to change their position. She now sat on the couch as Spencer kneeled before her on the floor, starting to place kisses on her inner thigh. 

Once he reached her heat, he put his thumbs around the waistband of her underwear and pulled it off by lifting her legs and then spreading them before him.

"Spencer, are you sure..." she started with a sobering tone. Creeping insecurity began to resurface.

"Yeah I'm sure," he whispers against her skin, "Just lie back, relax and look pretty."

Then, before she could offer any other protest, she felt the heat of his tongue as it was sliding between her folds. Immediately, she was overwhelmed. There was no hesitancy in his movements.

He placed a soft kiss on her folds, which made Molly gasp. "You're so pretty," he said softly.

Slowly, he dragged his tongue through the wetness that had gathered between her folds. Molly whimpered. She could feel her skin grow rough with goosebumps.

"You taste so good," he groaned before sucking on her clit and placing two fingers at the entrance.

Molly's body felt like it was on fire. Everywhere he was touching her was somehow too much and not enough.

"Please," she whined. 

Her hands threaded through his hair and grabbed a hold of him like he was the only thing keeping her restrained.

Spencer's nails dug into the skin of her thigh. While her legs applied crushing force to try and bring him closer, he remained adamant in holding Molly exactly where he wanted.

While his tongue toyed at her entrance, she was left defenseless. Whimpers flowing from her lips. Her whole body trembled.

Her legs close against his ears, and she could feel his moans as they reverberated through her.

One of Spencer's hands joined his tongue. Molly felt the tension building in her stomach.

Just as two fingers pressed into her, his tongue pressed flat against her clit. Immediately, the ever-growing euphoria came to a breaking point.

Molly choked on a scream, but still managed to sob as every muscle in her body tensed. Her heels dig into his shoulder and her thighs quivered.

Spencer seemed unfazed. Instead of stopping, like she'd expected him to, he closed his lips around her sensitive nub and continued. 

He suckled her clit like it could sustain his life.

He paid no mind to the way she was falling apart. His fingers pumped into pulsing muscles and he continued to hum sounds of pleasure against her. 

He didn't stop until Molly's body fell limp. Satisfied he stood up.

She climbed off the couch and dropped to her knees like she was preparing for a prayer. She used both hands to pull down his pants and underwear and to pull his erection free. She closed her eyes as she pressed a small kiss against burning skin.

"Please," he whispered without even thinking. Her giggles filled the silence.

Spencer looked down at her through his half-lidded eyes. He watched as he disappeared between her lips. Inch by inch, she accepted him into her.

Spencer felt weak and felt his heart beating against her tongue as she wrapped it around his dick. She held him close, as close as she could.

His eyes glazed over as he continued watching himself disappear over and over into her warm mouth.

He didn't dare to disturb her, although he couldn't help but fantasize about kissing her. Spencer laced his fingers through her disheveled hair.

She pulled away and gasped just before she closed her lips around him again. The sudden burst of cool air only heightened the warmth of her. His body bucked harder against her.

Her nose was buried in soft curls at the base of him, but she showed no signs of objection.

Instead, she rid her mouth of any air. She suckled until her tongue was flat against the sensitive underside.

Spencer's hips drove him further into her throat and relished in the wetness dripping from her bottom lip.

With one final thrust against the back of her throat, he took hold of her hair and gave her everything he had. Hot waves of desire pooled in her mouth and she moaned.

He gently pulled her off him. 

Not even a second after she'd taken a full breath, she took him in her mouth again. Gently, she cleaned overly sensitive skin to ensure that she hadn't missed a drop.

She released him, and before she could take another breath, Spencer leaned in, capturing her lips with his own. 

Both tasting himself on her lips and savoring the remnants of her honeyed essence on his, their kisses became a deliciously intertwined symphony of flavors.

He assisted her in getting up, gently cupping her face, and continued to kiss her.

She lost her breath, her hands finding their place around his flushed neck, as the intensity of their kiss deepened.

Spencer breathed her in, reluctant to let her go just yet, savoring the closeness and the lingering essence of them.

He shifted his hands, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her body tightly against his.

Molly finally pulled away, a joyful giggle escaping her lips. They locked eyes, Spencer's gaze filled with adoration as she bit her bottom lip.

With a gentle smile, he cupped Molly's face and asked, "Are you okay?" He wanted to make sure this felt right for her. It's the first time they've gotten this far.

Molly, still catching her breath, looked into his eyes and replied, "Yeah, I'm okay! More than okay, actually." She chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "I didn't expect us to dive into uncharted territory like this, but I don't mind it at all."

Spencer continued to hold her, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. "I just want to be sure you're comfortable. I care about you a lot, and I don't want to rush anything."

Molly reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers. "I appreciate that. I really do. And I'm comfortable, more than I thought I'd be. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

He nodded, a reassuring smile on his face. "Absolutely. More than okay. We can take things at whatever pace feels right for you. No pressure."

Molly leaned in and gave him a soft kiss. "And for you. And thank you, I'm glad we're on the same page. This is new, but it's exciting!"

Spencer returned the kiss.

Still wrapped in Spencer's arms, she looked around the room and then glanced out the window. "How about that fair?" she suggested, recalling their earlier plans to visit the fair in the city. 

"The weather seems to have eased up a bit now. We could finally go and enjoy the evening without the scorching heat."

Spencer considered the idea, a smile playing on his lips. "That sounds like a great plan."

Molly nodded, excitement gleaming in her eyes. "Perfect. I heard they have some amazing food and games. Plus, it'll be a nice change of pace after our... heated moment here!"

Spencer chuckled, "Agreed."

[srslyscary]

┊┊. PROFILE !

⟿ BASIC ?!

STAGE NAME: rae (래)

BIRTH NAME: raelene kwon

KOREAN NAME: kwon miri (권미리)

NICKNAMES: raerae, raeli, riri

BIRTHPLACE: new york city, new york

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: korean-american

BIRTHDAY: september 13, 1997

ZODIAC: virgo

LANGUAGES: english (native), korean (fluent), japanese (conversational), french (conversational)

FAMILY: mom, dad, younger brother, older brother

⟿ PHYSICAL ?!

FACE CLAIM: dayeon (kep1er)

RAP CLAIM: yezi (soloist), soyeon (g-idle)

VOICE CLAIM: chaehyun (kep1er)

DANCE CLAIM: hyoyeon (soloist)

HEIGHT: 176.26cm (5’9)

WEIGHT: 141.8 lbs

BLOOD TYPE: B+

BODY MODIFICATIONS: 2 tattoos

⟿ PERSONALITY ?!

MBTI: INFP

MBTI TYPE: The INFP personality type is introverted, intuitive, feeling, and prospecting. they are known to be extremely sentimental and nostalgic, often holding onto special keepsakes and memorabilia that brighten their days and fill their heart with joy.

POSITIVE TRAITS: humorous, generous, open-minded, kind, affectionate

NEGATIVE TRAITS: withdrawn, self-isolating, unfocused

⟿ CAREER ?!

OCCUPATION: singer, rapper, dancer, lyricist, producer

POSITIONS IN ATEEZ: vocalist, performer, rapper

DEBUT: october 24, 2018 (korea) december 4, 2019 (japan)

ACTIVE: 2018 - present

AGENCY: yg (2011-2017) kq (2017-present)

INSTAGRAM: @th3ywonder._

REPRESENTATIVE EMOJI: 🦝

FAN NAME: miri-gijeog (미리 기적)

ANITEEZ: a racoon named RAELIgog

⟿ EXTRAS ?!

> she is the oldest out of all the ateez members

> rae was the 9th member to join kq entertainment

> she has a younger brother (kwon yejun / spencer, May 6 2000) and an older brother (kwon jungwoo / nathan, July 10 1994)

> her nicknames given by members: tinky, ri-ah, kwonmi

> she is a former yg trainee

> rae’s hobbies are listening to music and sleeping

> her favorite movies are The Happytime Murders and Spy, and her favorite actor is Melissa McCarthy

> she has a st. bernard dog named dzuwa (pronounced ‘zoo-wa’)

> her favorite colors are blue and gray

> rae is actually an ambivert. she’s very extroverted around the members, but introverted when she’s not with them. she used to be VERY introverted while she was warming up to the members during their pre-debut days

> her role model is Moonbyul

> her favorite artists are T.I, BAEKHYUN, SHINee, and Rain

> rae’s microphone color is green because she finds emeralds pretty

> during her yg trainee days, she was training to become a producer instead of an idol. when she switched to kq, the ceo gave her an option to wait a while longer to debut, or get in the final lineup with “kq fellaz” and ultimately decided to become an idol.

> rae auditioned for MIXNINE but didn’t pass

> she has two tattoos: a spider on her left arm, and one on her neck saying ‘belle âme’ (meaning ‘beautiful soul’)

> she is friends with THE BOYZ’ Eric, and BIBI

> rae admits that if she wasn’t put into ateez at the last second, she wouldn’t have debuted at all

> rae has a unique new york accent

> she hates when they have missions on camera and the boys try to mess hers up because she will either be very pissed off and do the best she can not to cry or scream.

> rae’s motto is “push yourself to be great, not good”

[mshalfemptygirl]

Exagerado (S.R)

Plot: Spencer is very interested in Brazilian culture and also in Reader, his co-worker.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x !Fem!Reader

Contents: just really fuffy with bit smut god i love it

Request: ai! imagino mt a reader cantando exagerado pro spencer e ele tp 🤔 e indo atras da tradução 😢😭😢😭 + ele aprendendo português pra surpreender elaaaa n da mtt fofo

A/N: my first request omg i’m really happy and this one is so cute, i’m in love. And please, go listen the song mentioned here in the fic. Hope you like it, love y’all.

It was July. The weather outside was hot and muggy, with the midday sun blazing in the sky. All I could think about was getting a substantial meal—real food, not just any quick snack. In Brazil, lunch is a full spread: rice, beans, salad, steak, and even coffee afterward. When I told Spencer about this, he was utterly fascinated and bombarded me with questions, claiming it was his right as a good friend to know everything about me. Now, we were driving through the city, searching for something more satisfying than the donuts served at the police station, which I wasn’t particularly fond of.

Since Spencer isn’t a fan of driving, I was behind the wheel. Spencer, who specializes in geographic profiling, was effectively my human GPS. He mentioned a Brazilian restaurant on the other side of town and seemed genuinely excited about it, knowing it would help alleviate my homesickness. Yet, despite my nostalgia, I also consider the U.S. my home. As we drove, Spencer insisted on listening to my MPB (Brazilian Popular Music) playlist. Though he might not be genuinely interested in Portuguese, given his expertise in complex languages, I didn’t think it would be too challenging for him. I’d never taught him any Portuguese, though.

We found ourselves stuck in traffic. Glancing over, I saw Spencer staring out the window. Realizing that silence would drive me crazy, I decided to strike up a conversation. "Did you enjoy the playlist?" I asked.

He turned his head toward me and said, "Oh, yes. It’s quite intriguing. Portuguese is such a beautiful language, but with about 260 million speakers worldwide, it's relatively small compared to some other languages." I smiled. I always found it interesting when he spoke about scientific facts. His enthusiasm for detailed information was both captivating and endearing.

"I’m glad you like it. I do too. Why don’t you pick a song for me to sing while we’re stuck in traffic?" I suggested.

He raised an eyebrow. "Y/N, you don’t sing."

I rolled my eyes at his implication that I might be a terrible singer. "Well, Dr., I may not be a professional singer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t sing. Come on, it’s just for fun. I promise my voice isn’t too terrible."

All I heard was his loud laugh. Spencer can be a bit of a pain sometimes, reacting in ways that others might find awkward. He can’t hide his true feelings, and his exaggerated reactions can be quite amusing. Although it can be frustrating, I understand it’s just part of who he is and find it hard to stay mad at him.

"Alright, I’ll pick a song..." he said, scrolling through my Spotify playlist. He stopped when he was almost at the end, his finger hovering over the screen. "...This one. It looks like a good choice." His smile was infectious, and I felt a flutter of excitement. He had chosen a song I particularly liked, one that was close to my heart. I couldn’t wait to start singing it, even though I was a little embarrassed about performing.

I felt a surge of excitement and quickly grabbed the water bottle from the back seat. After taking a refreshing sip, I turned my attention back to Spencer as he selected the song. It was about an impossible love, one of my favorites. To me, it felt as if Cazuza were still around and knew us—he might say that "Exagerado" was a tribute to me and Dr. Reid.

As the first notes of the song began to play, I glanced over and saw Spencer’s gaze locked on me with a hint of amusement. I used the water bottle as a makeshift microphone and gave him a playful wave. Despite blushing and feeling a bit embarrassed, I started to sing, “Amor da minha vida, daqui até a eternidade…” My free hand reached out to hold his right hand as I continued with, “Nossos destinos foram traçados na maternidade…”

I kept singing, trying to stay in tune while he seemed genuinely engaged, following along with the lyrics on my phone. The song's final verse, “Thrown at your feet with a thousand stolen roses. I'm exaggerated, I love an invented love,” perfectly captured the playful, dramatic flair I was embracing.

In the midst of my performance, I was overjoyed to have forgotten about the traffic and the fact that I was singing just for him. When I finished, Spencer applauded, and I thanked him for the private concert. Despite knowing my performance wasn’t flawless, his compliment made me feel appreciated. His charming reaction only added to my contentment.

A few minutes later, the traffic began to clear, and we resumed our journey to the restaurant, the mood uplifted by the shared moment.

                               ━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

One week later, we were in a different city, dealing with a new case. The team had wrapped up a long and intense week, and we were all eager to return to the hotel and unwind. I was sharing a room with Spencer. The hotel was typical but comfortable—boasting a king-size bed that looked like a cloud, a spacious shower with a rainfall head, and a lovely view of the bustling avenue below, where city lights twinkled like stars.

I was utterly exhausted. I sank onto the bed, feeling the softness envelop me as I let out a sigh of relief. My muscles ached from the week’s strain, and I reveled in the sensation of the plush bedding. Spencer, meanwhile, was methodically setting down his briefcase on the desk. He loosened his tie with deliberate, practiced motions, clearly eager to relax after the day’s work. As I closed my eyes, savoring the rare moment of peace, I heard Spencer’s voice cut through the quiet.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes to find Spencer gazing at me with a blend of curiosity and nervousness. "Yes, love?" I asked, using one of my favorite nicknames. I always found it endearing how he blushed every time I used it.

He shifted uneasily before speaking. "Do you remember the song you sang in the car last week?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation. "I took a moment to look up the English translation of the lyrics, and I was wondering if the plot sounds familiar to you..."

I sat up, intrigued and slightly puzzled. "What do you mean?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I tried to understand his sudden interest.

He seemed to fidget, leaning against the wall before coming over to sit beside me on the bed. His nervousness was evident. "Well, we've been friends for a long time," he started, his voice unsteady. "And sometimes, when I think about dating someone, you're the only person I can imagine. So, I've kind of... invented this hypothetical love story in my mind where we could be together. It’s been driving me crazy. I even started learning Portuguese to see if I could approach you better and spend more time with you. And, well, I’m already rambling, aren’t I?”

"Sweetheart, it’s alright," I said, trying to keep my tone calm and reassuring. "I’ve imagined something similar with you too, because I really enjoy our time together. You’re incredibly smart and funny, and I even love your magic tricks. Honestly, when I’m with you, I can’t help but think about getting closer and kissing you..." I winced internally as I realized how direct I was being. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blunt. I was just trying to be romantic," I added, covering my face with my hands, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

He gently took my hands away from my face, his gaze softening as he looked at me with affection. "It’s okay, I want to do this with you too," he said quietly. As he spoke, the distance between us seemed to melt away. He leaned in and kissed me—a kiss that was soft yet lingering, filled with unspoken promise. The warmth of his lips on mine was intoxicating.

When we finally parted, I traced my fingers lightly over his face, savoring the closeness. I kissed him again, and then once more, each kiss deeper than the last, as if we were both exploring a new, exciting world together. His lips on mine felt like a dream come true, transporting me to a place of pure bliss.

Then, he began to trail kisses down my neck, each touch sending an electric current through me. His lips were warm and soft, creating a sensation that made my pulse race and my skin tingle. The intimacy of the moment felt all-consuming, a powerful connection that went beyond anything I had ever experienced. Every kiss was a gentle, yet intense reminder of how closely our fates were tied. I could feel it in every fiber of my being, like an undeniable truth that had been there all along.

My breathing grew shallow as the excitement built within me, my body reacting to the gentle pressure of his lips. I felt a deep, primal desire stirring, an urgent need that seemed to echo the profound bond we shared. "Spence, I want you," I whispered, my voice trembling with longing.

He placed one final, tender kiss on my chin, his breath warm against my skin. With a soft, sincere tone, he murmured, “Tudo que você quiser, meu amor (Anything you want, my love).” The promise in his words only heightened the intensity of the moment, filling me with a sense of anticipation and a deep, consuming desire.

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@playspretends​

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Memoriam: Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: Spencer is investigating the death of his “imaginary friend” that’s not so imaginary. On the other hand, you’re finding out more about your family than you thought you knew. Why are you now getting the ick when you never had this before? What does it all mean?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

You open the driver's door when you see Derek's reflection in the window jogging to catch up with you.

"Was this Spencer's idea?" you roll your eyes.

"No. I've never met your parents. I want to go with you."

"Okay, fine. Hop in." You two get into the car, and you head to your parent's house. "You know, I'm perfectly fine going to lunch with my mom and dad alone."

"I know. As I said, I've never met them before."

"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?" you ask just as you pull into the long driveway.

There are some children outside mowing the lawn and raking the leaves, but they don't look up to greet you. Like before, you see their yellow aura darken a bit at your arrival.

"He's just worried. You can't blame him."

"Spencer is mixing his own emotions for his dad with my parents," you say and park the car.

"Then nothing should be wrong. Why are there kids here? Aren't your parents past the age of having kids?"

"They're foster parents. Kids come in and stay for a few weeks before getting adopted. They've been doing this all my life. I'm their only blood child."

You and Derek get out of the car, and you bring him inside the house where your parents are cooking in the kitchen. They hear you come in, and your dad is about to pull you into a hug when he sees Derek. He hesitates for a split second, but then he hugs you anyway without taking his eyes off Derek.

"Who is this? Another boyfriend?" your dad jokes.

"No. He's my coworker and a really good friend. Derek, meet my parents, Julie and Joey. Mom and Dad, meet Derek Morgan."

"It's nice to meet you two." Your mom sets four plates of food on the table, and you sit down to enjoy her delicious cooking. Derek takes a bite of his food, and his eyes widen in shock. "This is really good."

"Thank you. I do the cooking and cleaning, and my husband does everything else," she chuckles.

"She puts me to work but her cooking makes it worth it." Your dad watches you with a careful eye, and he switches between looking at you and at Derek. "You know, I do miss having you around here, honey. There's no chance you'd change your mind?"

"You already know the answer to that," you sigh and set your fork down.

"I know. I'm just saying. What if you and Spencer move out here?"

"My job is in Virginia."

Your dad bites his tongue from saying something bad, and your mom can see him holding back. Tension sets in, and you can't find it in yourself to look at Derek. This isn't how you want him to remember them, but if they are going to act like this, then you're going to stop coming over. Your dad opens his mouth to say something, but your mom kicks him underneath the table. She shakes her head, and Derek watches this silent conversation.

"Spencer isn't good enough for you," your dad blurts.

And just like that, lunch is ruined.

"Daddy, I love him." Derek is the only one who sees your dad clench his fists from underneath the table. Spencer is right, something weird is going on here. "He takes care of me and loves me for me. I'm having the best time with him, and if you could just get used to him, that would take so much off my shoulders. I see myself marrying him."

"Get out."

"What?"

Why is he behaving like this? He's always been overprotective of you, but he's never been like this before. He's just being unreasonable.

"You heard me."

"Mom," you gasp and look at her. She opens her mouth like she is going to stand up for you, but she shakes her head and shrugs at you. "Fine. Come on, Derek."

You and Derek leave without another word, and it's only when you get back into the car does he say something.

"That was really weird. He shouldn't have reacted that way."

"He's always been like this. One time, I brought a boy home after my parents went to sleep, and my dad caught us making out. He got so angry he threw a lamp and shattered it, but that scared the kid enough to never come back."

"Y/N, that's not normal."

"It's fine. He'll come around."

"I'm not too sure about that."

"Derek, just drop it."

You two spend the rest of the car ride in silence. Mostly because you're embarrassed by how your dad behaved. Why didn't your mom step in? He's being really unreasonable, even if he's done this in the past. He has to come around or else you're not going to visit them anymore.

When you get to the casino, Rossi and Spencer are talking by the entrance. When you get closer, you see Spencer has an envelope in his hands, and he seems pretty shaken about it.

"What is that?" you ask when you approach them.

"How did it go with your parents?"

"Where did you get the envelope?"

Spencer can see you don't want to talk about it which means it didn't go according to plan. He'll ask you about it later when you two are alone.

"I don't know. This was sent straight to my room."

"I do have to admit, the timing of this is a little suspicious," Rossi says.

"Yeah. An hour after I see my father, we're handed another suspect," Spencer sighs.

"Did you know the guy?" you ask and take the envelope to inspect the contents.

There is information about a guy named Gary Brendan Michaels. There's some information about him and a note that says Spencer shouldn't waste his time on anyone but him. Along with the note is a rap sheet for Gary, and he's done some pretty terrible things.

"I don't know. I think so, but I'm not sure. I--I--no, I don't know," Spencer stutters.

"He exposed himself to a minor which is a precursor to molestation and murder. We should take a closer look at this guy."

Derek's phone rings and Derek answers it knowing it's Penelope calling.

"Yeah, talk to me, baby girl."

"Reid, we've been all up in your father's business."

"What did you find?"

"Well, let me tell you first what I did not find. No kiddie porn, no membership to illicit websites, no dubious emails, and no chat room history."

"What about his finances?"

"We went back ten years," Hotch says on the line. He must be in Pen's office with her. "There are no questionable transactions that we can find."

"Well, he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago," Emily says, "but I think we can overlook that."

Everyone must be in the office with her. Once Pen found out Spencer was looking into his father, she got everyone involved. You look at Spencer to see him nervously swaying back and forth. He's squeezing his hands together to try and keep himself busy. Poor baby. He wants so badly for this to be his father because he wants an answer. You don't think Will did this, but you know he knew of it.

"He's smart. Is it possible he kept things under the table?"

"Of course, but from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn't fit the profile."

"We can tell you other things about him if you want to know," Emily says.

"I'm listening."

"He's a workaholic; he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money but he doesn't spend a lot of it. He has a modest house, drives a hybrid, doesn't travel much, stays away from the casinos, and according to his veterinary bills, has a very sick cat."

"He appears to spend most of his free time alone, he goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. From his collection of first editions, it seems his favorite author is--"

"Isaac Asimov, I remember that one," Spencer cuts Hotch off.

"He does have one other major interest. On his home computer, he's archived a ka-jillion things on one common subject."

"What?"

"You, kiddo. He's got everything that's been published online. Every article you've been quoted in, pieces you've written for behavioral science journals, and he even has a copy of your dissertation."

"He's keeping tabs on you. That's saying something," Rossi says.

"Yeah, he googled me. Like that makes up for everything. I'm going to get some air."

Spencer walks off clearly upset. You feel so bad for him and wish you could do more for him right now. You want to go after him, but Derek stops you from doing so.

"Give him space."

"He's hurting."

"He needs space right now." Derek turns his attention to his phone. "You guys still there?"

"I thought we were giving him good news," Penelope sighs sadly. "What else can we do?"

"Look up a name for us, if you would. Gary Brendan Michaels."

"You think he has something to do with Riley's murder?"

"Somebody does."

"I can't sit by and do nothing. I'm going to go talk to Spencer," you say.

You leave the group without waiting for their response. You search outside the casino but don't see your boyfriend anywhere. You head back inside and search around some of the slot machines and spot him at a blackjack table by himself. You walk over there but pause when a skinny blonde woman slinks up to his side. He'd never do anything to hurt you, so you know he won't see her as someone he's attracted to. You stay off to the side and watch them, paying close attention to Spencer's body language.

"Wow, looks like you got a loose one."

"No such thing. These machines run on random number generators. Best odds in the house, though."

"Really? I thought that craps had the best odds."

"Normally, video poker odds are slightly worse at .7 percent in your favor. However, if you employ optimal strategy and always drop with a royal flush, you can push those odds to two percent."

"Smart and handsome," she flirts. You sigh and look down and cross your arms. "So, are you in town for the convention?"

"There are twelve conventions in town this week. Which one are you talking about?"

"Take your pick."

The woman takes out a cigarette and puts it in her mouth, unlit, while she searches through her purse for a lighter.

"Six minutes."

"Excuse me?"

"Um, it was something I used to say to my mom to try to get her to quit smoking. A cigarette takes six minutes off your life. So, every time she'd light one, I'd say, 'It's six minutes less that I get to spend with you'."

"Did it work?"

"No."

"I've tried it all. Nothing works."

"You should try hypnosis. There's been a lot of success in..."

Spencer pauses when he thinks of something that is relevant to the case he's on. He looks up and spots you by the archway into the slot machine area, and guilt pours out of his body heavily. He wasn't doing anything, but she was flirting with him and he didn't shut it down. You're not bothered by it because you're so concerned about him.

He gets up and walks over to you, but before he can apologize, you wave him off.

"Spencer, you're really upset, and I want to help you. I want to make it better for you, but you need to tell me what to do."

"You can come with me."

"Where?"

"To the doctor."

Spencer believes that he might be able to remember what happened if he gets hypnotized. The human mind can easily block out events if it's too traumatic for it to handle. Hypnotism relaxes the brain to allow someone else to take the wheel. This is the only way Spencer can think that might work for him. He doesn't want Rossi or Derek with him, so you escort him to Doctor Jan Mohikian's office, which allows him to take him at the last minute.

x

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[feastonkings]

kelly reilly / she/her ——— no way is that WYATT KELLY.. they’re a 47-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being RESENTFUL & COMBATIVE but there are some people who have seen them being ADEPT & PROACTIVE. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of the black sheep of the family, casual conversations in rundown bars, finding the skeleton in everyone’s closet, brutal but soft, pregnancy tests that always come back negative, and the sound of heels on cement, but that could just be because they’re considered the HIDDEN HEART OF GOLD around town. just keep an eye on them & see if their true colors shine through..

GENERAL.

full name: wyatt olivia kelly nicknames: wy classification: human gender / pronouns: cis woman, she/her age / birthday: 47, july 18th orientations: heterosexual, heteroromantic occupation: private investigator at jones and jones location: middle status: single, closed family: spencer kelly (nibling, like child) strengths: adept, proactive, observant, bold, perceptive weaknesses: resentful, combative, nosy, pushy, manipulative character inspo: tbd

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: neglect

her family wasn't an easy one to grow up in, she was in the middle of the children and it always felt like they were in competition with each other. for what? she'd never know.

it became obvious to wyatt early on that she was the odd one out of the bunch, much more focused on doing her own thing and building a career instead of following along with the family business.

she was a crass attitude, never afraid to tell it like it is and stand up to people who were bullying or treating people less than them (which also tended to be a lot of the people who were friends with her family) and that didn't change as she got older.

originally wyatt wanted to be a lawyer, a public defender or go into help non-profits but the dream of being able to afford law school was something else entirely.

instead, she ended getting her paralegal and worked for lawyers. that eventually grew to her having a strong knack for gathering information for cases and taking on a more investigative role.

it worked out nicely because then she had more time to spend helping take care of her brother's child spencer.

spencer ended up being a light in her life she never had anywhere else. they were a sweet child and were created at no fault of their own just to be cast aside later on.

there was no way she would let anything happen to them as long as she had anything to do with it. so after scolding both her brother and his ex for the last time, she took spencer to live with her when she was twenty-eight years old.

it was after that she went to work for jones and jones and volunteering with citizens uprising. doing her best to protect the rights of synths among some other the many other problems in the world.

she tried hard to show her nibling they were loved and cared for, but she knew it wasn't going to be enough. still she continues to try, and worry, and help whenever she can.

wyatt's still a spitfire and sometimes quite the force to be reckoned with, when she isn't working she is checking in on spencer, out on the town, or at home with her cat and her books.

HEADCANONS.

coming soon...

[protege-not-protagonist]

Criminal Minds: The Protégé Chapter 4

Ch 4: My Brother's Keeper Pt. 1

Blurb: After meeting with Dr. Reid, Grace is called away on a case with the team to a double Homicide of children with excessive overkill. It doesn't take long to establish that This Unsub will kill again if not caught soon. But as Grace works the case, certain aspects of it stir up a past she would rather forget. Meanwhile Spencer can't help but start working on the victimology of this new possible serial killer back home.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Audience: mature audience for depictions of violence and sexual references

Author's Note: if you see a trigger warning that concerns you, you can scroll to end and I'll have a brief description what happens. I think that system should work well cause then those who don't want spoilers don't have to read the trigger warnings at the start and get spoiled. Also my apologies to Groton South Dakota. I'm sorry I'm sure your a lovely town, I just threw a dart on the map and looked for a small town in that area. No offense.

TW: Ableism, child death, violence, gore, crime scene depiction, kidnapping.

Quantico, FBI Runway Tarmac Thursday July 2023 1:32 pm

‘Sorry,’ Grace apologised as she entered the jet, ‘It’s worth the wait trust me.’ She turned behind her and gestured to the two people who followed her up the stairs, ‘This is my friend Agent Stiller, from Forensics…’

A neatly dressed young man with dark skin and round glasses smiled widely and offered his hand to the rest of the team, ‘You can just call me Avery, nice to meet you guys, I’ve heard a lot about the lofty sixth floor. Didn't know you guys had a jet.’ That earnt a few laughs from her team.

Grace turned to the older redheaded woman who still stood at her side. ‘And this is our associate, Dr Boland, she's an expert Forensic Anthropologist with the Smithsonian. She taught me everything I know.’

'Well, I don't think that's quite true, Grace,' Dr Boland chuckled slightly and turned to the team offering a small wave, ‘Nice to meet you all, although I wish it were under better circumstances.’

‘Thank you for joining us on short notice, we appreciate having you both on board,’ Prentiss welcomed them, ‘Take a seat where you can find one, budget won’t allow for a bigger jet so we might have to get a little cosy, I’m Section Chief and Acting Unit Chief SSA Prentiss, this is SSA’s Rossi, Alvez, Simmons, Jareau and Dr Lewis, you both know Special Agent Matthews. As soon as we’ve taken off, we’ll start running through what we've got so far.’

The jet started taxiing along the runway. Without too much surprise, Avery and Dr Boland took the couch seat together. Grace smiled and shot them an encouraging smile up before sitting down next to Rossi.

‘Where did you wander off to today, huh? That's the first time you’ve taken a lunch break longer than 10 minutes. I’m proud of you,’ Rossi nudged her.

Across the table from her, Dr. Lewis and JJ listened in curiously.

‘I was still on site, as I’m sure you will all hear from Alvez in his report-’ she heard Luke snort from the seat behind her. ‘-I went to see Dr Reid.’

Everyone sat up in their chairs, suddenly very focused on what she had to say. She even heard the rest of the team's seats creak behind her.

‘What?’ she asked. It felt like she was unaware of some joke that they had with each other. Had they been taking bets again?

‘Nothing.’ Rossi shrugged, ‘We all miss him. Guess we just wanna know how he's doing, How’d it go?’

The jet shuddered as it sped full speed down the runway. They all paused their conversation as the cabin began to rattle. Rossi gripped the armrest tightly and Grace closed her eyes and enjoyed the stomach flipping sensation. They lifted off the ground and there was the pleasant buzz in her body of adrenalin. She loved take offs. She opened her eyes and there were a few pairs staring back at her, waiting. Oh yeah, they had asked her a question.

‘Fine, it was really good actually. He’s nice, gave me some advice, and he's funny too… It was very… I don’t know.’

‘You two just… gelled well? It would be nice having someone on your level to talk to,’ Dr. Lewis suggested.

Grace let out a nervous chuckle, ‘Oh no, he is way above my level, but… he’s not like other people I've met who are like that.’

Rossi gave her a knowing look, ‘He is the smartest guy in the room but he doesn't lord it over anyone. He doesn’t have a drop of arrogance or conceitedness in him.’

‘Yeah, that’s it,’ she smiled. Rossi was right, probably because he knew who some of the ‘other people’ she was referring to.

‘Well, if you think he is funny, you must be closer to his level than us, cause his jokes often go over our heads,’ JJ remarked and there were a few nods of agreement.

The monitor chimed, and Garcia’s bright personality shone through the screen.

'Hello my crime fighters and special guests! I've got an update, not a good one but still an update.'

'What have you got, Garcia?' Prentiss asked. They all got up and gathered around the second table in the jet that currently had all the files scattered across it.

‘Well, I have nothing folks, I looked for two related persons with Brittle Bone Disease in Groton and surrounding areas, and there are none. I trolled through medical records, but knowing they can be tricky and locked up tight, I went with ER admissions for repeated broken bones, then tried health insurance, then wheelchair and braces purchases, then school enrollments with special needs, nada… whoever these babies are, they aren't local and I can't find them and it's making me so sad.'

‘That's okay, keep working on that list, extend it to nationwide; families with two or more individuals with Brittle Bone who are under 25,’ Prentiss instructed.

‘Oooh, that is a big list,’ Garcia winced.

‘It’s okay, we have Dr Boland and Agent Stiller here, they will help give us more identifying features and we can narrow down the list further as we go along.’ Prentiss assured her. 'But are there any missing persons with Brittle Bone reported?'

Garcia shook her head, 'None reported in the entire country.'

Grace felt her chest ache a bit at the thought of a pair of parents out there unaware their kids were missing, or worse, not caring that they were. She held to that thought.

‘Brittle Bone is debilitating for kids. Most breakages occur before puberty, they would require a high level of care. These are kids you couldn't leave them home alone for long periods of time. They wouldn't be able to walk long distances or play on a playground unsupervised. Even if these victims are in their early teens, and they aren't as vulnerable, they're still someone you would notice missing. If they have not been reported missing, it’s likely that their guardian is also missing,' she suggested.

'Or the unsub themselves,' Alvez countered.

Why hadn’t she considered that? It was more likely.

She winced at the thought, 'I hope not. But yeah that's what statistics would point to, most murders are committed by someone closely related to a victim, even more so with children.'

'Well, if that is not the case…' Simmons pointed to a map of Groton they had on the table, 'Two major routes intersect here the 37 and the 12, there isn’t much in the town, it’s basically a rest stop, we could be dealing with a mobile killer. If our unsub knew the town had little in the way of law enforcement, they could dump the bodies, shock a small town, overwhelm law enforcement and continue driving. They’d be long gone before the cops even figured out what to do, it’s a forensic countermeasure. Have we looked at the Highway Serial Crimes database? Any similar scenes in other states?'

Garcia shook her head, ‘I checked that, and I'm keeping tabs, but I’ve found nothing this severe, or with kids, sorry. Ah… and I see you’re getting ready to look at those photos and I’ll take that as my cue, I’m out. Talk to you later.’

The screen went dark as Simmons laid out some of the photos on the table.

Prentiss turned their guests. ‘Can you tell anything from the photos that will help narrow anything down?’

‘Ah, no, I agree with everything Grace has concluded. An MNI of two. Both victims are definitely under 21. Most likely related, both have OI. Most likely Caucasian; their teeth have no shovelling. I would say these victims are more likely have Type One, but we will have to reconstruct and get stature estimates and bone samples to know that for certain. Unfortunately, I can’t rule out one of our individuals being pre-pubescent either, like Grace observed, their 31 hasn’t erupted. And if the victims do have Type One, it is the only type not known to cause unusual dentition. I believe it is a worse case scenario, one of those victims is around 12 years old.’ Dr Boland reported.

Grace already had known that, but somehow having someone else confirm it, made the cabin's recycled air feel heavy.

Avery sighed, ‘I have nothing to add, except I want to let you guys know, we are pretty good, but we are not miracle workers. I just want to prepare you for the possibility that we may not ID these victims if no relative comes forward with DNA or reports them missing. Soft tissue is obliterated, so we’re going to work with what we can and move to bones. Now, with younger victims, it is harder to determine sex with only skeletal remains, and given the condition they are in, the fragmentation will also make it difficult to determine facial features or distinguishable characteristics. Dr Boland will do what she can and I will assist where I can.’

‘Wait assist? So you’re not a bone and body guy?’ Alvez asked.

The rest of the team looked confused. Grace realised she hadn’t really told them much about who Avery was, or much about her old team, really.

‘I dabble but no, on the second floor, I’m the living people expert,’ he explained.

JJ nodded along with a grin, ‘You’re the team liaison.’

He nodded proudly, ‘I specialise in CSI coordination, organisation, and education for local police. Grace called me because I’ve worked cases like this before. It is possible we are walking into a contaminated crime scene, regional PD’s will be trying to work with one another, there will be press vultures, and we will most likely be doing the reconstruction in a country clinic or even a vet clinic. Agent Prentiss, I know you will be head of this investigation, but if you allow it, I will gladly organise and coach Local PD though evidence collection. I will do my best to make sure all evidence is collected and processed so it is admissible in court, if that's what you want me to do.’

‘That would be a big help, a profile is going to be hard enough with not much victimology to go off, we don’t need to be juggling crime scene management as well,’ Prentiss agreed.

Avery pulled out a business card and passed it around, ‘That’s my number, I'll grab all yours as well. I know how important a profile is in a case like this, I need to know any updates on your profiles immediately. In a small town like this, we will definitely work with volunteers. I’ve been warned that having Feds brought in might excite and Unsub, it’s possible I will be working along side our unsub at some point, so I think it’s good if we stay in touch.’

Rossi nodded with an impressed look on his face, ‘Where do you find these people, kid?’

‘Around. I keep good company,’ she smiled.

‘Okay when we land, we have a 20 minute drive to Groton from the regional airport, JJ, Matthews, Stiller and Dr Boland, I want you to go to the crime scene, make sure they get everything under control. Rossi, Alvez, I want you to question the staff at the golf course where the bodies were found. Simmons, Lewis you're with me, we will go to the station and get a lay of the land. We'll meet at the Gold Stallion Inn by seven. That's where we're being put up. I hope none of you snore, because there are only six rooms some of us are gonna have to share.’

‘Shot not sharing with Rossi,’ Dr Lewis remarked.

‘Hey, I do not snore. And I’ve had three wives who can attest to that,’ Rossi defended.

-------

Somewhere along Route 37, South Dakota, Thursday July 2023 3:30 pm

He looked out the window as the radio played country music. It had been a long time since he had been on a road trip, he’d forgotten what it felt like. The crink in his knees hardly bothered him though. This was too exciting. Fields passed him and he smiled as a herd of cows lazily grazed, watching their minivan drive by.

‘Cows!’ he exclaimed with delight.

No one else in the car shared his enthusiasm. That was okay, his mom and dad had been driving for a long time, they were tired.

But then the woman next to him sobbed.

‘Please, where are you taking us? Where are my boys!’ his mother cried.

His smile retreated. She was ruining it.

‘SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP RIGHT NOW!’ he pressed the gun to her head again.

‘Lilly, it’s okay baby, we’ll be okay!’ Dad called from the driver’s seat. ‘Please don’t hurt her, she just wants to know when we are going to stop.’

The man turned back to look at him and the woman with pleading eyes. It was good that Mom and Dad loved each other. If only they would love him as much. This was supposed to be a family road trip. They were supposed to be a happy family now. Why didn’t they love him?

‘We stop when I say we can, and you’ll see your boys again, soon enough,' he promised, and he wasn’t lying this time.

This Mom and Dad weren't right, his brothers weren’t right. He’d find the right ones one day. But he supposed he had to value what little time left he had with this family, it was supposed to be fun wasn’t it? He lowered the gun as the road sign loomed up ahead and he smiled. They were nearly there.

‘Ooh, let’s play a game… I spy, with my little eye, something, beginning with… M.’

--------

Groton SD, Golf Course, Thursday July 2023 3:58 pm

'Deputy Mitchell?' JJ asked as the four of them climbed off the golf cart and approached a middle-aged man guarding a large tarp spread over the ground.

'You the feds?'

‘Agents Jareau, Matthews, and Stiller, and our forensic expert Dr Boland.' JJ introduced, pointing out each one.

'Well, thought you'd be all suited up with earpieces, but I'm glad you're here. Body is under here.' He lifted the tarp partially and they all braced themselves. 'Groundsman found it here this morning, Jesus,' the deputy winced and turned away.

'When did the call come in?' JJ asked.

‘That was about six this morning... Look, other than putting the tarp on and doing a search of the grounds, we haven't done anything else. This is way over our heads. We are a small community. People come here cause it’s quiet and nothing happens, we don’t have resources, certainly not for this. Heck, I’m not even sure how we are going to move the body. We asked the regional centre, Aberdeen, for help. They took one look and told us to contact you guys, but they’re sending us their CSI team. They just radioed that they are a few minutes away.'

Avery began to talk about how they were logistically going to go about this. JJ asked questions about what time people usually played golf, and the opening times of the course. She zoned out and peeled the tarp back fully, and Dr Boland jumped to help.

Immediately it was clear the victims were killed right here. This wasn't a dump sight. Blood spatter was caked all over the grass.

Dr Boland opened her field kit and began taking the ambient temperature, following procedure. Grace however became focused on the thing she hadn't been able to tell from the photos; how was this done.

She fixed her glasses on the nose and knelt down next to the bodies.

'Hello, I'm Agent Grace Matthews, I'm just going to examine you to see what happened, okay? Then we will get you both somewhere safe and put you together so we can bury you okay?'

She always spoke to the bodies. She knew the others on the team thought it was weird. She even felt weird talking to them this time, it was hard to even recognise them as human in the state they were in. But that’s why she had to do it, especially at a scene like this.

It was a habit she started at her first job after she left school and she kept it up when she went into forensics. The practice was quite normal in some fields. It was a humanising technique that gave dignity to a body while acting as a coping strategy for the living person. They taught it at the academy, but few practiced it.

'And I'm Dr Boland, I’m Grace’s friend. I will be putting you together and running tests. I will work as fast as I can.' Dr Boland introduced herself, not missing a beat. Grace looked to her in surprise. The doctor only smiled warmly back at her as if to say, “it's not weird at all.” And kept setting up the scene for the investigation.

Grace turned her attention back to the gore and clasped her hands together and hugged them under her chin; it was time to focus. This is what she was here for, this is what got her into the FBI.

Her eyes darted across the mess and searched for repeated patterns or familiar shapes. Amongst the clumps of flesh, splinters of bone and bloody strips of cloth that would have been clothes, she looked for large pieces that were still relatively intact. A long bone, or perhaps the outline of where the clothes would have sat, hopefully. She moved around, searching from every angle for something recognizable. Eventually, the two bodies began to appear. She could identify different sections of a body and her mind filled in the blanks or rearranged into the form it was supposed to take. The two had died next to each other; one face down, one face up.

Two fragmented bones stuck out to her. A snapped the ulna and radius. Attached to it she found a bit of skin that was bruised and dented in a rough crescent shape.

The scene flashed in her mind;

A young voice cried out as they were hit in the back of the head with the bludgeon, their skull shattered immediately, they fell face first into the grass and their jaw dislocated, which allowed the mandible to remain relatively while the overkill was exerted. This was the younger one. When they hit the ground, the other older one turned to the assailant, who was already swinging the weapon at him now. They raised their arm in defence to block the first blow of a rounded heavy object swinging at them. Their forearm shattered immediately. They fell to the ground, and the blows kept coming in a frenzied rage from the man standing above them. They died relatively quickly. But the unsub wanted to humiliate and disfigure them further, he beat them for what must have been hours.

She shook the scene from her mind and focused now on the weapon.

It was flexible and heavy yet did not leave a uniformed mark. It was malleable and, given the frenzied blitz attack; improvised.

She racked her brain, an improvised weapon on a golf course. It would have to be a club right? But it couldn't be; a golf club wasn't the right… anything. Shape, size, weight distance from the attacker; it was all wrong. This damage was more like a mediaeval mace, something heavy that could be swung but didn’t have much reach- yet, not solid? She stood up and wandered around, deaf to the world as she searched for an object that would fit the disruption.

'Hey Agent Matthews… Matthews… Grace. Grace!’ Dr Boland called to her.

‘Yes?’ she turned around

‘If you're heading over there to the bunker can you get a sample of the sand please?' Dr Boland asked.

She nodded and pulled out a test tube from her forensics field kit. She knelt down and scooped up some sand from the bunker. It was really fine sand, not like the natural sand that was about the town. This stuff would get everywhere if I fell over right now, she thought to herself. Then she had a little giggle to herself, it would get everywhere, but it wasn’t rough, or course, it was powdery and fine. Like Anakin Skywalker, she disliked sand, which was unfortunate, having grown up on a tropical island. She also hated golf courses. In her opinion, and her father’s, they were a waste of space. Swathes of nature manicured into useless fields to chase a ball in. The amount of habitat destruction, water wastage and land metamorphosis places like this went through was… she halted.

The sand wasn't from here.

It was brought here, and you buy sand in bags and sand bags are heavy and malleable. And she knew firsthand, you can scale a sandbag down and make the tried-and-true homemade truncheon with little effort.

She ran back over the body and pulled out her magnifying glass, inspecting a depression that would have been caused by a blow. Sure enough, she could make out a few fibres and sandy particulates in the wound. She pulled out a swab taking a sample.

‘Dr Boland, there are fibres and particulates in these wounds, make sure to get some samples before you clean the bones, have you established a baseline yet?’

‘Yeah, it's that flag there,’ she pointed to the peg in the ground and continued laying out measuring guides getting ready to take scaled photos. Grace stood next to the baseline, took out her tablet, snapped a photo and drew an outline with her stylus.

'I got a rough indication of where the victims are lying. I'll do a diagram, that way you can have a rough starting point for the reconstructions.’ She drew outlines of the victims over the photos and labelled them One and Two and hit send.

Dr Boland glance at her tablet smiled, 'This is great. I've never seen you work out side the lab before.'

'Well I do this quite often, I think it would be more accurate to say I've never seen you work out side a lab before,' Grace grinned.

'True, the field is not usually my scene, especially when the site is this recent. But I just wanted to say, the field, it suits you. You seem... more free.' The doctor remarked.

Another golf cart approached carrying a uniformed officer and a few people in CSI jackets; the team from Aberdeen.

‘Looks like the Cavalry's arrived.’

‘Go, catch this guy, we’ve got this,’ Dr Boland nodded, holding out her hand.

Grace frowned at her and reached to shake it.

Dr Boland laughed and shook her hand back, ‘As much as I appreciate that you are comfortable enough to shake my hand, I actually was after the samples you collected, I need to catalogue them.’

‘Oh. right,’ Grace nodded and handed them over. ‘What do you recon? If we catch this guy by Saturday, will you be up for Sunday Study Brunch?’

Dr Boland smiled at her, ‘Well with your diagram here, it should make it easier to reconstruct. I’ll say, we’re on at this point. I’ve got a new stack of possible US soldiers from Bataan, circa 1940s, that I could use help cataloguing, unless you want to work more on your thesis?’

Grace sighed, ‘Not yet, I’m still stuck. Cataloguing Soldiers it is then. I’ll see you and Avery tonight, I’ll keep you in the loop, but I have to brief JJ, and the team. I’ve got a weapon and a few details.’

--------

Leaving one car with Avery and Dr Boland at the scene, JJ and her met up with Rossi and Alvez after they finished the staff interviews.

‘Anyone stick out?’ JJ asked.

‘Nope,’ Rossi shook his head. ‘All of them have alibis.’

‘Grounds man was a bit too into lawn, but none of them seemed off at all.‘ Alvez added. ‘What if this guy is a worse case scenario; just a random guy with victims of opportunity who motored out of here like Simmons said?’

JJ sighed, ‘Well, apparently opening hours are seven to seven, and people would only interact with staff and leave a record if they paid for entry, or hired equipment or a cart. Most locals have an annual pass, so they don’t need to pay for entry. Not that it’s really barred at all, there is no fence, no security or CCTV. Anyone could walk onto the course at any time. What could you tell from the bodies?’

They all looked to her.

‘It was a blitz attack followed by post mortem overkill. After the initial attack the unsub continued to beat them to humiliate and dehumanise them. There was no attempt to conceal the bodies; there is no remorse. The Unsub, is a man, given the strength, and probably under 30, immature and emotionally stunted. The attack was disorganised and full of rage. It seems personal, if the unsub didn’t know these kids, he must be using them as surrogates,’ she reported.

‘Now that kinda rage at two random defenceless disabled kids makes me think we could be looking at a hate crime; like extreme ableism,’ Alvez surmised darkly.

‘Ugh, can this guy get any worse,’ JJ murmured.

Grace gave her a sympathetic look. JJ hid it well but Grace could tell, she was very shaken by this case. She had said very little the entire time. Anything with kids was hard, especially on JJ, but this level of brutality was something else entirely.

‘You said the attack was disorganised, are you implying that he is organised in another aspect?’ Rossi turned to her.

‘Yes well, I may have some good-ish news in that department,’ Grace nodded, ‘The weapon was an improvised truncheon. Now improvised weapons usually indicate a disorganised individual, but on this occasion the weapon actually shows the opposite. He used something that requires criminal sophistication. This guy used a sock filled with sand. It’s a simple but effective weapon. It's not one that comes to mind unless you’ve been in a situation where you’ve had to learn to make a weapon out of nothing before,’ she smiled proudly. They continued to look at her, confused, so she elaborated; ‘I think this guy’s been to prison. Which means he’s in the system, we can find him.’

Rossi’s phone rang and he answered after a quick glance at the Caller ID. ‘Yes? Yeah everyone’s here, yeah I’ll put you on speaker hang on-’ Rossi held his phone out, and they gathered around it, ‘-Go ahead Emily.’

‘I have bad news and worse news. The bad news is there are only five rooms at the inn, so more of us are going to have to share. The worse news is that there are only five rooms because room one’s key was left in the drop box this morning before the office opened and the guests’ car was gone. Now the manager assumed they had checked out, but when the cleaner arrived this afternoon, the Giles family’s belongings were still inside the room.’

‘Well, that’s not good,’ Rossi voiced what they were all thinking.

Grace's mind raced, it made sense why they weren’t reported missing; this family was on vacation, they weren’t expected to be anywhere. The Unsub still had the parents, they couldn’t report the kids missing, they might not even know their kids are dead.

Prentiss continued, ‘Hotel manager says the Giles family were a family of four staying one night. Mom, dad and two boys, one around 15, one around 12 with crutches. Garcia got the 411 on them, the Giles are originally from Minneapolis, she can confirm the boys and the father have type one Brittle Bone Disease. Garcia is searching for their car as we speak. We also have moved our base of operations to the inn and called in State troopers to meet us and the sheriff there. We need to give the profile as soon as possible; we’re dealing with a family annihilator.’

-------

Next Chapter

Note: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this and that you like Avery and Dr Boland, we'll be seeing them and a few other OCs a fair bit in this story. If you love it, or even just like it, please leave a comment and/or like, it is much appreciated and it really motivates me.

TWs:

Ablesim: this is the big one. Unsub is targeting physically disabled people and it is suggested that these murders could be hate crimes. It is not explored why the unsub has this view point in this chapter but it doesn't really matter. It's never justifiable at all to hate like that. unsub is horrible and delusional. Be warned for ick factor.

Child death: sadly the victims are kids.

Violence, gore, crime scene depiction: these all go together, I don't think I'm too graphic, but Agent Matthews goes to the crimes scene and she replays the events in her head. it's a brief depiction of how the children were murdered.

Kidnapping: there is a scene with our unsub who is currently with the kids' parents, who have been kidnapped. He threatens them and is just generally creepy.

[gamergirljournalist]

How video game journalism kickstart my media career

On July 8, 2024, it was announced that Kotaku Australia and many other third-party brands will be shut down by Nine Entertainment/Pedestrian Group. When the news broke, many journalists who lost their jobs mourned. The same can be said for other journalists and Australian media members, who emphasized that this is another blow in Australian media. This was somewhat expected as the Nine Network announced that it would lay off multiple staff members due to budget cuts as the Australian media giants could not renew a deal with Meta under the media bargaining code.

As someone who has worked professionally in journalism since 2018, I feel for these people. At the same time, it's a shock to see how the gaming and tech news space is slowly dwindling. I know this first-hand as my old place of employment was the first to stumble, which led to many of my co-workers losing their jobs, just days before Christmas.

So as part of my "Australian Gaming Journalism" Eulogy, here is my take on the whole situation, how gaming journalism is important and how it kickstarted my career.

Where it all began

Video game journalism played a huge role in my career as it was where people noticed my potential to play a role in this industry before I realized it was my calling.

In 2012, my dad was approached by a convention attendee, asking if I was his daughter because my Q&A question during the EBGames Expo was "really good" for someone my age. My question addressed mental health in video games, and whether it made things better or worse.

The next was in 2016. My first year journalism class had this non-graded assignment, where we were tasked to listen to the people we passed by and pitch something the next day. This was supposed to teach us that "a story can be found anywhere, even in everyday conversation." My first pitch was "I witnessed Opal ticket officers playing Pokemon GO using the same device to check our tickets. while on the job" My lecturer got excited for a second and told me to write a full report, like actually report on it. I was still a first year university student, and I had no idea what just happened.

Sadly, I didn't get the chance to do so due to a variety of reasons, one of them being I didn't have media law training yet to report on something that involved Opal and NSW Transport. But this first pitch made my lecturer see something in me that I have yet to discover. I did make up for it by covering the Phil Spencer's keynote address for the student newspaper.

TLDR - Video games made people notice that I have the potential to become a journalist.

There is more to video game journalism than just reviews

Video game journalism is more than just "video game reviews" or talking about the next game release. It's about reporting on the latest happenings in the industry, the shifts game devs are making, and how this billion-dollar industry is impacting society.

And it's not just my personal stories. There were other events in this field worth talking about. There are video game influencers raising funds for charity, indie companies making strides and making innovations, how accessibility and representation became a form of discussion, video game preservation, media adaptations, and in some cases, how video games are being utilized by the government (looking at you City of Melbourne).

Video Games shaped my journalism career

For those saying "video game journalism is a waste of resources," think again. My career started with video game journalism. People saw potential in a young girl who had no idea what she was doing. She just pitch and ask questions in a topic that was very familiar to her. All of this shaped my career and I'm truly grateful for it.

Not only did this journalism genre shape my career, but it also got me recognized in the Australian journalism space. It also gave me the opportunity to expand my passion and consider entertainment and pop culture reporting. Meanwhile, other reporters who started in video game journalism expanded towards science, tech and IT, and business reporting. I know someone who's trying to get a PHD because of it. This niche genre is a launchpad for so many reporters and other professionals and it's a shame that it's completely underfunded.

This is a niche in journalism that needs respect and recognition as it gives up-and-rising writers a platform to get published and write something they're passionate about. It's not a waste of time, it's a valuable resource with untapped potential.

[know4life]

Check out my podcast #knowledgecypher "Let US Make Men (Again): Steps to Mentoring Black Boys into Manhood" with Alfred Powell,

Da'Marion Spencer, and Tony Gibson.

Why did Minister #Farrakhan call this generation, "...the strongest, most powerful generation that we have ever produced since our fathers were brought to these shores as slaves."

Why are our youth so misunderstood?

How can the Elders help shape and mold Black boys into manhood?

Watch the world premiere on July 24, 2024, at 11:00 AM https://youtu.be/MDpbvik0Z0Q

For more information visit Know4LIFE website at www.know4life.net

Join the conversation in our Facebook group Knowledge Cypher Conf. Series https://www.facebook.com/groups/8782481651

https://youtu.be/MDpbvik0Z0Q

[gaysoccerhorse]

Julie Ertz tackle leads to pk... what do we think?

Image source: https://equalizersoccer.com/2019/07/23/uswnt-2019-womens-world-cup-victory-2012-under-20-core/

Photo Copyright Daniela Porcelli

I wanted to write/think through the penalty called against Julie Ertz in the past weekend's Angel City vs. Portland Thorns game (April 29th at Providence park.) The whole game deserves a breakdown. That said, I haven't stopped thinking about that call in the box, Julie Ertz' tackling prowess, and the place of the hard defensive tackle in women's soccer.

So what happened? Thorns' Weaver beat AC's Spencer with minimal challenge and zero attempt made at a tackle, allowing Weaver to send a dangerous cross into the six as Thorns' Crystal Dunn made a careening, surefire run. Given how devastating Dunn is around goal, we have no reason to think she would have missed had a defender not made some kind of mess. Nielsen, at left centerback for Angel City, attempted a block but she couldn't quite execute.

Meanwhile, streaking back in heroic fashion, Angel City's prodigal daughter made a hook-style tackle, using her right foot to loop the ball 180 degrees back in the direction it came before it would have perfectly intersected with Dunn's run on the cusp of the six yard line. Almost, but crucially, not quite instantaneously (rather, a snap moment after) the leg Ertz used for counterbalance as her right foot collected the ball caught Crystal Dunn from behind. Dunn didn't see Ertz coming. The ref called a foul, and then gave a subsequent yellow card.

Beyond the scope of what I know to be true, my hypothesis is that the yellow culminated from Ertz' protestations to the call. Regardless, this call led to the first of the Thorns' 3 goals, as Hina Sugita stepped up and took a clinical pk into the side netting.

Full disclosure: I never thought this tackle was a foul. From the admittedly limited vantage point of viewing at home, it seemed to me that Ertz got the ball before hitting Dunn, and before Dunn had gotten any touch on the ball herself. As a fervent Dunn stan, I think Dunn did well to make this crashing run. And I admit I'm usually biased towards Dunn in most foul scenarios because she has such keen and incisive touches on the ball. In this case, however, I thought that this tackle was immaculate and just sooo deliciously executed-- a defensive midfielder's dream! That said, Ertz did tackle Dunn from behind, which is the riskiest for sure. So foul or nah, I feel like both sides could make a respectable argument.

This all got me thinking about the pedagogy of coaching and refereeing in women's footy as it compares to the men's game. I haven't compiled/ looked for stats to defend this argument, but what came up for me with this call was that a hook tackle like this would NOT be called in a men's game. I'm open to being wrong here, but I'd be curious to see if this thought came up for anyone else. What does this mean? Does this mean it should be called as foul in men's games? Or that it shouldn't in women's?

And I've also been thinking about tackling as a relative weak spot in my soccer education growing up. From my experience playing soccer from 3 and up, boys in my home town and local premiere leagues were taught how to tackle: the principles, the timing, the strategy, the body mechanics. As an adult that plays co-ed for fun, learning how to tackle confidently (ball-first and clean of course) has been a literal game-changer for me.

Would love to hear what people think on this.

In the context of the epidemic of ACL tears, this seems like a worthy conversation. I'm not saying that women's footy needs to get dirtier. Rather, hard, clean tackles are a cunning coordinational feat. In my experience, they are safer than under-informed tackles, and certainly safer than half-hearted tackles. They are a delicacy of the sport that I wish was emphasized more in the women's game of my youth... and maybe they are more, now. But I want to hear what others think.

Will write more about the absolute tear that Crystal Dunn has been on, and how fun it's been to watch so many of the players on both these rosters come into their own. But now, I gotta work!

[mim526]

Diana, Philip, & William

Once again I learned a couple of new things about/from the BRF.

In a lengthy, revealing article about Diana, Princess of Wales in the Vanity Fair July 2007 issue this segment about Prince William was revealing:

The propinquity of Eton to Windsor meant William had forged a close bond with the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh. Sometimes in the evening the boy would go for a walk in Windsor Great Park with Prince Philip, eagerly responding to his grandfather’s tough code and sense of humor, which Prince Charles had always scorned. Having failed with his own son, Philip saw William as the boy he had always wished he’d had. They shared a passion for military history. It pleased Diana, but it also made her jealous. William was her closest confidant. “She told me she had with her son William very private and very profound conversations,” Roberto Devorik said, “and he was an extraordinary moral support.” William was older than his years, burdened as much by his mother’s confidences as by his future responsibilities; she had taken him through the divorce terms before she agreed to them. She began including him in some of her lunches at Kensington Palace with the press.

“All my hopes are on William now,” she told me. “I’m hoping he will grow up to be as smart about handling the media as John Kennedy Jr.” But William was not John F. Kennedy’s son. He was the heir to the British throne. However much William might look like her and smile like her, he belonged as surely to Prince Charles and the Crown as to Lady Diana Spencer—perhaps more. Inevitably, William would have to become Windsorized. As England’s future King, it was his destiny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stories of William spending time with his grandmother QEII are fairly well known, but I know less about his time with his grandfather Philip who it sounds as though in his own way tried to be a stabilizing factor in William's young life. I can see some of how/why the passion for preserving the environment that William shares with his father Charles is strong: it was important to a stabilizing male influence, Prince Philip.

I can also see that members of his family invested many of their own hopes heavily in William, too much IMO. (William was not the son Philip never had or the future monarch Elizabeth hoped Charles would be as I read her between the lines. Nor should he have been Diana's confidante in lieu of a spouse. Diana's greatest fault may have been how she handled her boys, William in particular...reviewing her divorce terms with him was a new one to me.) A child is more than a family's chance to rectify mistakes made with previous generations.

It's a wonder that he did not crack under the pressure or turn from the family (a la Harry) applying it. What I find truly incredible, though, is how he's navigated his life. Things have not turned out for William quite how the 2007 VF article predicted. He belongs to nothing or no one but his wife and children. He will be king should the monarchy continue because he considered the path that was set before him and chose it. (Which makes Harry's assertions W is trapped incorrect. Perhaps Harry's anger at feeling trapped himself has something to do with knowing on some level he could not function well without his family.)

Where did William get the strength and wisdom to make such subtle distinctions? My money is on a combination of things, e.g., his own "steeliness" (Richard Kay) and internal compass, and a dash of his grandmother's sense of duty and deft diplomacy. First and foremost are the influences of Catherine and the Middleton family model.

The prayer they wrote for their wedding says it well. This is a life worth living, a path worth following:

...In the busyness of each day keep our eyes fixed on what is real and important in life and help us to be generous with our time and love and energy.

Strengthened by our union help us to serve and comfort those who suffer. We ask this in the Spirit of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Time will tell as to results. William and Catherine's children, along with Edward and Sophie's, are the first ones to benefit from a dual royal/middle class heritage. For now, in William Britain has a royal husband, father, and future king unique among British royals past or present.

[beautifulballad]

SDCC Exclusive: Scott Speedman and Chaske Spencer Discuss New Horror Series, Teacup

Peacock brought their new horror series, Teacup, to San Diego Comic Con yesterday, July 25. Stars of the series, Scott Speedman and Chaske Spencer, sat down with press to chat about their new series ahead of their debut Comic Con panel. During our conversation, the pair spoke about their new series and how they got involved with the project. The pair also spoke about whether they had read the…

[blood-darkened-moon]

July 11, 1981 (2)

Spencer was playing Beethoven's sonata No. 14 on the grand piano in the parlor. The black piano was placed on a dais that raised it above the white marble floor; above the dirt from the shoes, from the drops of wine and whiskey that had been spilled, from the incessant revelry that had filled the Ashford residence. Since the early 20th century, before the Great War, rarely had the halls of Ashford Hall been open to a quasi-Victorian procession of relatives and friends.

It had been a couple of hours since the last visitor had left, congratulating Alexander on Alexia's graduation. The only outsider left in the place, not as a visitor, but as a resident, was Oswell E. Spencer. The melody he played accompanied, in his solitude, the rising of the Morning Star from the gloom. Lux in tenebris, the familiar motto came to mind.

Alexander rose from the armchair and walked over to Spencer, who had begun playing the last measure. The pounding of the keys went in crescendo and then began its diminuendo as Alexander approached. Spencer pressed hard on the last keys, setting off an arrhythmic explosion that hammered Alexander's eardrums. The shockwave reverberated through the desolate hall. Spencer made an attempt to get up with the help of his cane, but Alexander invited him to remain seated in the same place. Spencer, figuring that Alexander intended to remain standing, slid to the left end of the stool.

- “Come with me.” - Spencer patted the other end of the seat.

Alexander sat down next to him, focusing his watery gaze on the keyboard. Spencer caught the faint scent of distilled spirits and tobacco that his companion's bluish suit gave off.

- “A good night," Spencer murmured in his baritone voice.

- “Yes, indeed," Alexander pressed a random key, distracted.

- “It had been a long time since he'd been to such an exuberant party. Not since Edward's time, at least.” - Spencer pressed another key, trying to coordinate his note with that of his friend.

Alexander did not respond. The reference to his late father abstracted him from the conversation. Out of his dumbness, Spencer continued:

- “I have prepared the contract for Dr. Ashford. All according to the conditions we agreed upon. No salary, but with an increase in the percentage of your investment in the company. I have notified the head office so that they can inform you about the personnel that will be assigned to the Antarctic base. I have also arranged the part that commits us to the Commonwealth government.”

The mention of the government caught Alexander's attention.

- “Did you talk to that lawyer?”

- “That's right. Theoretically, there should be no problem if we lie about Dr. Ashford's true responsibility for the company, as well as her fate. We must be good liars..." Spencer smiled slightly.

- “What about the inspection part?”

- “I had a conversation with a judge friend of mine. The government shouldn't send any inspections if we send regular reports on Alexia's activity in the company. The reports have to emphasize that no underage girls are doing any dangerous activity that threatens their safety.”

Alexander rubbed his hands together from the growing chill that was settling in. He pulled a pack from his inside jacket pocket and lit a cigarette, taking care not to exhale the smoke in front of Spencer. Spencer, for his part, wrinkled his nose and turned away somewhat to avoid the sickly stench. Alexander then sat up and began to prowl erratically around the piano. Spencer played a few loose notes, all the while studying Alexander's gesticulation. If he had been younger, he would have been engaged in a Pauline Metternich versus Anastasia Kielmansegg-style duel with the Ashford. For his good friendship with the Ashfords had been sincere. Sincere until the storms of disagreement had shaken the foundations of Ashford Hall and Spencer Manor. Disagreement that clouded their well-meaning reciprocity; that turned their friendship into a forbidden enmity. An animosity not mentioned because it was taboo, but equally perceptible in Alexander's uneasy gesticulation.

However, although his opinion of the current Earl Ashford was not very decorous, his predilection for Alexia Ashford far surpassed the iron curtain that was the irresolvable misunderstanding between the two lineages. Alexia was said to be as if she were the direct daughter of Veronica Ashford, who founded this house a century ago. Curious allegory. Spencer longed to meet Alexia; he longed to converse with her about his expectations. For, unlike Alexander, Alexia combined the supposed genius of that Veronica with Edward's illustrious competence for research. And at such a tender age, a rarity. He recalled that there were a couple of not-so-old researchers at Arklay, a Birkin and a Wesker; but they barely surpassed this girl's prodigy. Spencer wanted Alexia to work for his purposes. He kept the impression, from what little he knew of her, that Alexia was not as fond of the Ashford name as her father.

He sighed. If only something different would happen, something that would upset the Moirai's fatal knitting....

(Translated with DeepL)

11 de julio de 1981 (2)

Spencer tocaba la sonata número catorce de Beethoven en el piano de cola del salón. El negro piano estaba colocado en una tarima que lo elevaba por encima del suelo de mármol blanco; sobre la suciedad desprendida de los zapatos, de las gotas de vino y whisky que habían sido derramadas, del incesante jolgorio que había henchido a la residencia de los Ashford. Desde principios del siglo XX, antes de la Gran Guerra, en pocas ocasiones los salones de Ashford Hall habían sido abiertos para una procesión cuasi victoriana de parientes y amigos.

Hacía un par de horas que el último visitante se había despedido felicitando a Alexander por la graduación de Alexia. El único foráneo que quedaba en el lugar, no como visitante, sino como residente, era Oswell E. Spencer. La melodía que este tocaba acompañaba, en su soledad, la ascensión del Lucero del Alba desde las penumbras. Lux in tenebris, le vino a la mente el lema familiar.

Alexander se levantó del sillón y caminó hacia Spencer, quien había iniciado la reproducción del último compás. El golpear de las teclas fue in crescendo para luego iniciar su diminuendo a medida que Alexander se aproximaba. Spencer presionó con fuerza las últimas teclas, arrancando una arrítmica explosión que martilleó los tímpanos de Alexander. La onda expansiva reverbero en el desolado salón. Spencer hizo amago de levantarse con la ayuda de su bastón, pero Alexander le invitó a continuar sentado en el mismo sitio. Spencer, figurando que Alexander pretendía permanecer de pie, se deslizó al extremo izquierdo del taburete.

—Acompáñame. —Spencer manoteó el otro extremo del asiento.

Alexander se sentó a su lado, enfocando su acuosa mirada en el teclado. Spencer percibió el atenuado olor a destilado y tabaco que el azulado traje de su acompañante desprendía.

—Una buena noche —musitó Spencer con su barítona voz.

—Sí, desde luego —Alexander pulsó una tecla aleatoria, distraído.

—Hacía tiempo que no acudía a una fiesta tan exuberante. Desde los tiempos de Edward, al menos. —Spencer presionó otra tecla, intentando coordinar su nota con la de su amigo.

Alexander no respondió. La referencia a su fallecido padre le abstrajo de la conversación. Por su mudez, Spencer continuó:

—He preparado el contrato para la doctora Ashford. Todo de acuerdo con las condiciones que acordamos. Sin salario, pero con un aumento del porcentaje de vuestra inversión en la empresa. He avisado a la central para que os informen sobre el personal que será destinado a la base antártica. También he arreglado la parte que nos compromete con el gobierno de la Commonwealth.

La mención al gobierno capturó la atención de Alexander.

—¿Hablaste con aquella abogada?

—Así es. Teóricamente, no debería haber problemas si mentimos sobre la auténtica responsabilidad de la doctora Ashford en la empresa, así como su destino. Debemos ser unos buenos mentirosos… —Spencer sonrió ligeramente.

—¿Y sobre la parte de la inspección?

—Tuve una conversación con un juez amigo mío. El gobierno no debería enviar ninguna inspección si somos regulares en cuanto a enviar los informes sobre la actividad de Alexia en la empresa. Los informes han de destacar que ninguna menor de edad está realizando ninguna actividad peligrosa que amenace su seguridad.

Alexander se frotó las manos por el creciente frío que se instalaba en el ambiente. Sacó una cajetilla del bolsillo interior de su chaqueta y se encendió un cigarrillo, preocupándose por no exhalar el humo frente a Spencer. Spencer, por su parte, arrugó la nariz y se alejó un tanto para evitar el enfermizo hedor. Entonces, Alexander se incorporó y comenzó a merodear erráticamente en rededor del piano. Spencer tocó unas cuentas notas sueltas, a la vez que estudiaba la gesticulación de Alexander. Si hubiera sido más joven, en aquel instante se habría enzarzado en un duelo con el Ashford al estilo de Pauline Metternich contra Anastasia Kielmansegg. Y es que su buena amistad con los Ashford había sido sincera. Sincera hasta que las tormentas del desacuerdo habían sacudido los cimientos de Ashford Hall y Spencer Manor. Desacuerdo que enturbió su bienintencionada reciprocidad; que tornó su amistad en una vedada enemistad. Una animosidad no mentada por ser tabú, pero igualmente perceptible en la intranquila gesticulación de Alexander.

No obstante, aunque su opinión sobre el actual conde Ashford no era muy decorosa, su predilección por Alexia Ashford superaba con creces el telón de acero que era el irresoluble desencuentro entre ambos linajes. Se decía que Alexia era como si fuera hija directa de Veronica Ashford, quien fundó esta casa hace una centuria. Curiosa alegoría. Spencer deseaba conocer a Alexia; anhelaba conversar con ella sobre sus expectativas. Pues, a diferencia de Alexander, Alexia combinaba el supuesto genio de aquella Veronica con la ínclita competencia de Edward para la investigación. Y a tan tierna edad, una rareza. Recordó que había un par de investigadores no tan mayores en Arklay, un tal Birkin y un tal Wesker; pero que apenas superaban el prodigio de esta niña. Spencer quería que Alexia trabajase para sus propósitos. Guardaba la impresión, por lo poco que la conocía, de que Alexia no era tan aficionada al nombre de los Ashford como su padre.

Suspiró. Si tan solo un hecho distinto ocurriese, algo que trastocase el fatal tejer de las Moiras…