#clay spencer gif

[sweethearttal]

[lesbianmaxevans]

THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH || 1.09 ‘THE WORLD FALLS DOWN’

[Image Description: Eight stacked gifs from The Man Who Fell to Earth.

Spencer: What do you look like? Faraday: For fuck’s sake. Every other Anthean -- Spencer: No. What do you look like? Under -- Faraday: This skin? You’re obsessed with skin. Skin is one of your gods. You’ve created cults around it. Commit genocide. Murder every day in its name. One reason I was chosen is because Justin would have no rational reason to trust me if I looked like you.]

[reiderwriter]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–X– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I look forward to working with you.”

--X–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which meant it was perfect for baiting the unsub.

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

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

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

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

Morgan was left running surveillance in the van outside. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[temporarywelcome]

Leash - Spencer Reid

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Spencer caught his girlfriend cleaning up after a terrible act.

CONTENT WARNINGS: blood, swearing, unsub!reader

A/N: lol I wrote this for a creative writing project and gave Spencer a different name so if there's a typo I missed that's mb

____

The signs his girlfriend was a serial killer were there. 

They were clear, bright as day, he was a profiler for God’s sake of course he saw the signs. Yet he ignored them, practically had a hand over his eyes to block out the issue. Just pretending he didn’t see it. Pretending he didn’t know. 

A part of him tried to rationalize the situation. There was no way his lovely girlfriend was the one doing these heinous crimes. The same lovely girlfriend who listened to his nerdy rambles without getting bored. The same girlfriend who was always ready to comfort him after a traumatizing case, stroking his hair and rubbing his back and telling him everything was going to be okay. The same girl who constantly spoke about the future she saw with him. 

No, she couldn’t be a serial killer. 

But the blood on her hands said otherwise. 

Spencer was supposed to be on a case, but it ended abruptly. The killer had chosen a victim that was able to outsmart him. Less of a victim story, more of a survivor. So Spencer found himself and his team back on an airplane home, FBI duties over. He had planned on surprising his lover at their shared apartment, flowers in hand as he quietly unlocked the door. 

Closing the door, he silently padded through the halls, passing all the photographs on the walls of them together. The photographs Y/N had taken the time to print and put up, many of them being her idea to take. She was so loving. So sweet. No, she was no killer. 

No killer would have surprised him with that dinner date at the beach. No killer would have bought him a new telescope for his birthday. No killer would be the woman photographed throughout these walls with that beautiful smile and big heart. 

Hearing the sound of the faucet in the bedroom, Spencer entered, seeing the bathroom door open. He was expecting to see her hastily doing her hair, working diligently with products laid out throughout the entirety of the marble counters. Or doing her intensive skincare routine after a face mask, scrubbing the colorful clay from her face. 

Yes, he expected something simple and mundane like that. 

So when he stepped through the open doorway and saw the tub, he was in shock. The water was running, it was the tub, not the sink, but the water in the tub was tinted red. His mind immediately tried to rationalize it, she was doing some crazy project. She was dyeing a dress red, right? Yes! Something like that! That must be it!

But no, she was seated on her knees, hands hovering over the water. Red hands. Bloodied hands. No no no, Spencer, not blood! Red dye! Yes yes yes.

No amount of gaslighting could explain the butcher knife balanced on the edge of the tub. The mysterious red (Jesus Christ, Spencer, it was blood, stop trying to play yourself!) that stained the front of her purple shirt.  

“Spencer,” she breathed out. They were staring at each other for a good thirty seconds before she spoke. He stared. She stared back.

He finally spoke, “Who’s blood is that?”

She looked down at her bloodied hands, bottom lip between her teeth, “Um,”

“Who’s blood is that?” he repeated. He should be drawing his gun right now, releasing it from its spot on his belt. But it stayed in its holster, his hands at his sides. 

“I don’t know,” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” he felt his palms begin to sweat, eyes darting around the bathroom anxiously.

“I don’t know,” Y/N repeated, dunking her hands into the water, beginning to scrub at them. How could she be so calm right now? 

Because she did nothing wrong, of course (of course she did something wrong, there’s so much blood)!

His eyes went to the floor, checkered tiles. Black and white, now with red splatters. Festive. “Did you kill somebody?” Stupid freaking question. He was a supposed genius, asking his girlfriend who practically painted the walls with blood if she killed somebody. 

“Yes,”

“Were they trying to hurt you?”

“No,”

How the hell was she so calm? Telling her FBI boyfriend she killed someone for no necessary reason? It then occurred to him she was so calm because she knew. She knew he wasn’t going to do shit. He was still standing with his feet planted, hands at his sides, flower bouquet forgotten on the floor. No gun drawn. No cuffs out. Nothing. 

“Why did you do it then?!” he was starting to get frustrated, thin fingers trembling, He brought a hand up, biting his thumbnail in nervousness. His heart was beginning to beat so fast he feared a heart attack coming. 

“I don’t know,” Y/N started scrubbing at her hands faster, sniffling.

His poor heart was telling him to fall to his knees and bring her into his arms, tell her everything was going to be okay as he wiped her tears away. His brain, his rationality kept him unmoving. She was a murderer. His job was to literally catch people like her when the police couldn’t. 

“...how many?”

She stopped the scrubbing to look up at him, “What?”

“How many fucking people have you killed, Y/N?!” his voice rose, quivering as he felt his throat tighten. Tight, scratchy, sore, like when you wake up in the morning and realize you have a cold or fever. 

“This is a third,” she replied. 

Three. She really was a serial killer. 

“You killed three people,” Spencer whispered slowly, finally sinking to his knees, “Oh my God,”

“You don’t believe in God,” she pointed out simply. 

She was right. He didn’t. He was a man of science, he always was. But he was in distress, was he not allowed to say whatever came to his mind? To be fair, he felt there were more important things to discuss than his religious beliefs. Or, well, lack of.

“Does that even matter?” he snapped, fingers tangling into his hair and tugging at the strands in stress. And like always, almost as if it were a reflex, Y/N reached out, pink-tinted hands gripping his.

“Don’t pull your hair,” she said in that stern but loving voice he was so used to, the voice he was honestly craving and needed to hear right now. “I hate seeing you hurt yourself,”

‘I hate seeing you hurt yourself,’ said the killer in front of him. How odd. How ironic and strange. 

Yet he still allowed her to bring his hands to his sides, still gripping them. Yet he still leaned forward and rested his head on her shoulder, breathing in her scent. Her usual assortment of mixed fruits blended into her favorite body spray, with a little mix of blood, which kind of ruined the comfort he was trying to get. 

Everything was kind of ruined. 

“You know I would never hurt you, right?” she whispered, releasing his hands so she could wrap her arms around him, rubbing his back in that soothing motion that always made him melt. Oh God did he just want to melt into her and forget this was fucking happening. Forget all she has done. “I love you, and nothing is going to change that. Nothing,”

It didn’t sound like she was lying. He was a profiler, he knew how to catch a liar. However, he didn’t catch when she killed two other people. He didn’t catch that. He didn’t see the signs. So what are the chances she was lying about loving him? 

He never paid attention to how she always was so emotionless with anyone but him. He never paid attention to how she refused to get any pets, and when he brought a stray cat home one day thinking she would love it, it mysteriously vanished. He never paid attention to how possessive she was of him, the amount of times he had to pull her off of girls giving him advances. 

He saw none of the signs. So what did he really know?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what broke Spencer Reid’s heart into a million tiny pieces. 

“Hey, look at me,” Y/N pulled away, gripping his chin and forcing him to look into her eyes, “I never even knew what love felt like till I met you. Do you really think I’m going to throw it all away? Throw away everything I’ve built with you?”

“Y-You’re a liar,” he stuttered out, eyes darting over her shoulder, refusing to meet her gaze, “You’re lying to me so I’d let you go,”

“I’m not lying to you,” she sighed, cupping his cheeks, “Arrest me, I don’t care. I just want you to know the truth. You’re the only thing that seems right in my life,” 

“Stop it,” Mustering up the courage, he finally pushed her away, a harsh shove to her shoulders sending them both in opposite directions on the ground, “Stop lying to me!”

Y/N yelped as she fell onto her back, giving him a glare, “Spencer what the hell?!”

“Why are you talking to me like I’m crazy? You killed three people, I’m allowed to act crazy!” his hands balled into fists at his sides, digging into the flesh of his palms in an attempt to calm himself down. Why did it feel so hot in there? He was sweating so hard. It felt like he was going to collapse of heatstroke. He scrambled to his feet, taking deep breaths to calm his breathing.

“Baby…” she stood up as well, “It’s going to be okay-”

“No it’s not!” How could she say something like that? She really thought that after ending three lives, everything was going to be okay? They were screwed.

“Fine,” she groaned, “Let me rephrase that. You’re going to be okay,”

“No, I’m not!” Spencer shook his head, and with that, the first tear fell. Crap. “How am I going to be okay knowing my freaking girlfriend just became a serial killer?!”

“Because you’re going to arrest me, and I’m going to go to prison, and you’re going to move on with your life and find someone better and get married and have a bunch of nerdy, genius babies and live a happy life.” she held out her arms, “Do it.”

“Do what…?” he already knew what. But the thought of it was terrifying to him. It’s what he should do, but he wasn’t sure he had the courage. 

“Cut the bullshit. You know what? Arrest me. Grab the cuffs,” 

Just grab the handcuffs and be done with it. Arrest her. Let her go.

Let her go.

Yes, figuratively. Let her go from your mind, your life.

Let her go…

Yes, be done with her. Handcuff her and let her go… to prison.

“Get out of here,” 

What?

She blinked, looking at him with her arms still outstretched to him, trying to figure out if she had heard wrong. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Spencer turned on his heel, walking out and into the bedroom. Opening the closet, he began yanking her clothes off of their hangers and tossing them onto the bed, “Get out,”

“Um,  no,” she followed after him, pressing her wrists together and raising them to his face, “Cuff me!”

“Get the hell out,” he grabbed a suitcase from the top shelf, bringing it down and placing it on the bed. 

“Why aren’t you arresting me?” Y/N stayed hot at his heels, right behind him through every step he took, “Why aren’t you arresting me?”

“Because you’re going to leave,” Spencer unzipped the suitcase, beginning to fold her clothes messily and tossing them inside in his hurry, “And never come back,”

“...really?” 

“Yes.”

“But-”

“-Y/N,” he stopped his movements, looking at her, “You need to leave,”

“Why aren’t you arresting me?!” she was getting frustrated now, scared he was now playing some game with her. She knew Spencer though, this was not in his personality. Toying with her. Letting a serial killer go, however, was also not in his personality. 

Biting his bottom lip, he replied with: “Because I love you,” 

Letting her go was a mistake. 

He knew that it was going to be a mistake when he had let her go. Yet he still did it. He still had let her go, sent her off with a passionate kiss, then proceeded to cry himself to sleep that night. And every night for the first ten days. 

After that, he still felt terrible, but forced himself to move on with his life in the best way he could. 

Which was hard when every month or so, opening up the P.O. box in the lobby of his apartment complex, he would find letters. Anonymous letters typed out in what he knew was typewriter from the smudges. 

He didn’t need to be an FBI agent to understand who this anonymous person was. 

Letters expressing how much this sender missed him, how they thought of him everyday. How he would always be the love of their life, how they would ever forget about him. The sender was confident they would not be caught, describing which city they were in at that moment, what they were up to.

Spencer never wrote back. This anonymous writer didn’t care. Y/N didn’t care. 

He knew where she was, but never went to her. He noticed the trail of bodies in the media every time he would research any crimes in the areas she was at. He never went to stop her. 

Wouldn’t that make him just as bad as her? Just as much of a killer? Allowing her to continue this? Allowing her to end these lives?

To him, yes, that made him just as bad. 

Yet he never stopped her. 

He created a new profile on Y/N practically every day, trying to make sense of her behavior. Much of it made sense. The urge to kill, not being able to stop herself. The remorse in how she laid out the bodies. A common occurence. Her being a woman threw off the profile slightly, considering usually female serial killers didn’t act on impulse, going for more calculated and purposeful murders. Other than htat, the profile was solid. 

Well, except for one other thing. 

Him. 

Maybe he only thought this way because he wanted it to be true. Maybe he was being delusional and lovesick. But it seemed like she genuinely loved him, genuinely did think of him as the love of her life. 

She shouldn’t be capable of such emotions. 

Yet she wrote to him every week, told him way more than someone on the run should. Yet she would sometimes send little packages for him. 

Yet as there was a knock on the door and he looked through the peephole, she was there. There with her usual smile and a box of whatever goodies she came up with. How dare she show up here after her whole spiel about him moving on and finding someone better? How dare she show up to the home of an FBI agent when she had killed over twelve people at this point? 

Perhaps it was because she was lonely, always moving, always alone. And she knew he would never let her get caught. She was always his priority.

He had tried so hard to let her go, when in reality he was handcuffed to her, bound to her like a dog on a leash. 

Reaching out, his fingers wrapped around the doorknob, twisting it open.

[ureternalmajesty]

Let It Go || Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid x female!reader

Words: 903

Summary: Young love that went wrong. This relationship you have with Spencer has reached its breaking point. So you have no choice but to abandon dreams and feelings you once had but it’s time to move on.

Authors note: I apologize before hand because this is an angst ☺️

18+ and this wasn’t proofread at all

“Looking pretty boy where you going tonight?” Derek called out to Spencer who was grabbing his coat of the back of his chair.

“Got plans.” The response was short and simple not giving out to much information to the man. “Oh my gosh it’s a girl isn’t it?” Penelope spoke up from her place in Morgan’s chair.

Throwing the coat on and walking out they didn’t the smile on his face as he left.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Spencer over here!” You waved him over from your place in line. “y/n are you cold? I brought gloves?” The look he was giving you was filled with love and worry as he grabbed your hands. “You do realize your hands will freeze off then who will make my coffee mugs?” He whispered placing a kiss to your forehead.

The line started to move and you both went into the venue seeing a band that Spencer knew you liked and spent weeks trying to get tickets and make things perfect. The night went on with you singing along to songs and dancing in the crowd with Spencer smiles on both your faces.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The walking to Spencers was filled with laughter and small talk. Walking side by side lightly shoving one another with a grin on your faces. “Come on I promised to help you with your own coffee mug.”

The sound of classical music was on in the background as you giggled and help Spencer mold the clay for his mug. “It looks like a deformed kidney y/n.” He spoke taking his foot off the pedal the wheel coming to a stop as his hand reached over to the glass of alcohol that you both were sharing. Drunk giggles filling the room as you pointed at the mug. “It’s your first attempt it’s not gonna look perfect Spence.” Giving him a comforting smile.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Now we're slipping near the edge holding something we don't need all this delusion in our heads is gonna bring us to our knees”

Two years into the relationship and things started to be to get rocky. You both were holding onto to the relationship but you couldn’t speak for Spencer. Holding onto all the pain that he’s caused you. The sneaking out to the park at night to call from pay phones and not wanting you to go the the cafe with him anymore then telling his friends that you aren’t his girlfriend your his friend.

You both keep trying to fix this relationship but it’s so stressful and it’s difficult to keep Spencer to talk things out to fix the relationship. It was to much to the point you called him to meet you in front of the library by that time all you stuff was moved back to your apartment.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“So, come on, let it go, just let it be why don't you be you, and I'll be me? Everything that's broke, leave it to the breeze why don't you be you, and I'll be me? And I'll be me”

It didn’t take long for Spencer to meet you at the library you were sat out front on the water fountain. Nervously twiddling your thumbs. “Hey y/n.” Looking up there stood Spencer in his blue coat and his satchel across his body. “We need to talk Spence this relationship is to stressful and difficult to keep us together and I know you been talking to someone else. So this relationship is over.” You explained to him.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“If this is all we’re living for why are we doing it, doing it, doing it anymore? I used to recognize myself it’s funny how reflections change when we’re becoming something else I think it’s time to walk away”

“What so this relationship isn’t worth it anymore?” Spencer questioned his tone sounded angry and upset. “It’s not when we are trying to work our relationship out and your out at the park talking on a pay phone to lord know who!” You exclaimed trying to make your point. “Do me a favor and let’s call it quits cause I used to could be myself with you Spencer and it was good now I’m someone I don’t even know.” He shut his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay than…oh your things you’ll need them.” You shook your head. “I moved them back to my apartment and gave your landlord your spare key she said she give them to you when she sees you.” You explained. “I’ll see you around Spence.” You turned and walked off away from him, the relationship, and the library.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Let the ashes fall, forget about me”

Years passed and you moved on and forgot about your troubled relationship. You were walking down the street with your new boyfriend when you bumped into somebody interrupting your conversation. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean too—Y/n?” You looked up and it was Spencer. His hair was longer and he had stubble on his chin. “Hey Spence long time huh?” You questioned squeezing your boyfriends hand. “Bye.” You side stepped the man and continue talking to your boyfriend and all Spencer could see was them if their relationship went right. The smile on your face, how your hand didn’t fit in his he missed that.

I was told not to write this cause it was sad to one of my friends. But I like to make them suffer 😼

[zmbiesvape]

people you want to know better :3

thanks for the tag(?) @hrtshapedbx

• three ships: lukylet, wabel, charmac

• last song: clay pigeons - micheal cera

• fav tv show: bojack horseman, invincible, breaking bad, iasip, survivor

• currently reading: ultimate spider-man

• currently watching: invincible, better call saul, survivor, bobs burgers

• currently eating: wendy's fries

• currently craving: kyle spencer and max cooperman. also chicken alfredo.

tags - anyone!!

[palmviewfm]

mw counterparts?

we've got quite a few options for you ! here's  some  counterparts  that  we'd  love  to  see  being  used  for  inspo  ! 

monica  geller,  ross  geller,  chandler  bing,  joey  tribbiani,  susan  bunch,  carol  willick,  janice  litman  goralnik,  mike  hannigan,  jim  halpert,  pam  beesly,  ted  mosby,  jackie  burkhart,  donna  pinciotti,  eric  forman,  laurie  forman,  jade  west,  cat  valentine,  andre  harris,  beck  oliver,  shaggy  rogers,  daphne  blake,  velma  dinkley,  kim  possible,  aria  montgomery,  alison  dilaurentis,  mona  vanderwaal,  emily  fields,  spencer  hastings,  noel  kahn,  caleb  rivers,  toby  cavanaugh,  elena  gilbert,  katherine  pierce,  caroline  forbes,  bonnie  bennett,  tyler  lockwood,  hayley  marshall,  rebekah  mikaelson,  stefan  salvatore,  elijah  mikaelson,  edward  cullen,  rosalie  hale,  esme  cullen,  carlisle  cullen,  alice  cullen,  jacob  black,  jessica  stanley,  beca  mitchell,  chloe  beale,  audrey  posen,  sarah  cameron,  kiara  carerra,  jj  maybank,  john  b  routledge,  pope  heyward,  cleo  anderson,  frances  'baby'  houseman,  brenda  walsh,  kelly  taylor,  donna  martin,  andrea  zuckerman,  valerie  malone,  brandon  walsh,  dylan  mckay,  david  silver,  steve  saunders,  dixon  wilson,  annie  wilson,  naomi  clark,  erin  silver,  brooke  davis,  peyton  sawyer,  haley  james  scott,  lucas  scott,  rachel  gatina,  quinn  james,  clay  evans,  mouth  mcfadden,  skills  taylor,  alex  dupre,  millie huxtable, julian baker, marissa  cooper,  summer  roberts,  anna stern, seth  cohen, zach stevens,  taylor  townsend,  ryan  atwood,  luke  ward,  lexi  grey,  arizona  robbins,  cristina  yang,  atticus  lincoln,  derek  shepherd,  jackson  avery,  cher  horowitz,  regina  george,  gretchen  weiners,  cady  heron,  karen  smith,  janis  ian,  damian  haynes,  heather  chandler,  heather  duke,  heather  mcnamara,  veronica  sawyer,  lorelai  gilmore,  luke  danes,  logna  huntzberger,  jess  mariano,  derek  forester,  lane  kim,  dave  rygalski,  sookie  st  james,  daphne  bridgerton,  simon  basset,  claire  standish,  allison  reynolds,  brian  johnson,  samantha  baker,  austin  ames,  samantha  montgomery,  joey  potter,  jen  lindley,  dawson  leery,  pacey  witter,  peter  parker,  mary  jane  watson,  fiona  gallagher,  lip  gallagher,  faith  lehane,  cordelia  chase,  willow  rosenberg,  prue  halliwell,  paige  matthews,  piper  halliwell,  leo  wyatt,  cole  turner, theo raeken, malia tate, liam dunbar, cora hale, isaac lahey, allison argent, scott mccall, hayden romero, jordan baker, olivia baker, layla keating, spencer james, stiles stilinski, lyla garrity, and tim riggins !

[asteroidxblves]

RAISING THE CUP TO HER LIPS and made a face at the mixed drink , she'd never get used to the taste of whiskey . her eyes darted about , she felt like a chaperone at a high school dance and maybe she kind of was . rosewick wasn't necessarily a place known for drama free parties . it felt like eyes were on her and she had to keep telling herself she was just being paranoid for no reason , she was safe there were roses there . raising the cup up again she pulled her phone out of her pocket to send tommy a text ' still alive . love you . ' hitting the send button she turned the screen off and slipped her phone back into her pocket . it was by chance that erin spotted the young anarchy member , it should've been a red flag that she was even there but it was collette and she missed her . " hey there little mouse . " she wasn't spencer clay anymore and it was awfully bold of her to even approach the other .

@cynosurems

[shannyh25]

Anne was dressing for a concert at the White Sands Hotel. The guests had got it up in aid of the Charlottetown hospital, and had hunted out all the available amateur talent in the surrounding districts to help it along. Bertha Sampson and Pearl Clay of the White Sands Baptist choir had been asked to sing a duet; Milton Clark of Newbridge was to give a violin solo; Winnie Adella Blair of Carmody was to sing a Scotch ballad; and Laura Spencer of Spencervale and Anne Shirley of Avonlea were to recite.

As Anne would have said at one time, it was “an epoch in her life,” and she was deliciously athrill with the excitement of it. Matthew was in the seventh heaven of gratified pride over the honor conferred on his Anne and Marilla was not far behind, although she would have died rather than admit it, and said she didn’t think it was very proper for a lot of young folks to be gadding over to the hotel without any responsible person with them.

Anne and Diana were to drive over with Jane Andrews and her brother Billy in their double-seated buggy; and several other Avonlea girls and boys were going too. There was a party of visitors expected out from town, and after the concert a supper was to be given to the performers.

“Do you really think the organdy will be best?” queried Anne anxiously.“I don’t think it’s as pretty as my blue-flowered muslin—and itcertainly isn’t so fashionable.” and frilly and clinging. The muslin is stiff, and makes you look toodressed up. But the organdy seems as if it grew on you.” Anne sighed and yielded. Diana was beginning to have a reputation for notable taste in dressing, and her advice on such subjects was much sought after. She was looking very pretty herself on this particular night in a dress of the lovely wild-rose pink, from which Anne was forever debarred; but she was not to take any part in the concert, so her appearance was of minor importance. All her pains were bestowed upon Anne, who, she vowed, must, for the credit of Avonlea, be dressed and combed and adorned to the Queen’s taste.

"But it suits you ever so much better," said Diana. "It's so soft"

“Pull out that frill a little more—so; here, let me tie your sash; now for your slippers. I’m going to braid your hair in two thick braids, and tie them halfway up with big white bows—no, don’t pull out a single curl over your forehead—just have the soft part. There is no way you do your hair suits you so well, Anne, and Mrs. Allan says you look like a Madonna when you part it so. I shall fasten this little white house rose just behind your ear. There was just one on my bush, and I saved it for you.”

“Shall I put my pearl beads on?” asked Anne. “Matthew brought me a string from town last week, and I know he’d like to see them on me.”

Diana pursed up her lips, put her black head on one side critically, and finally pronounced in favor of the beads, which were thereupon tied around Anne’s slim milk-white throat.

“There’s something so stylish about you, Anne,” said Diana, with unenvious admiration. “You hold your head with such an air. I suppose it’s your figure. I am just a dumpling. I’ve always been afraid of it, and now I know it is so. Well, I suppose I shall just have to resign myself to it.”

“But you have such dimples,” said Anne, smiling affectionately into the pretty, vivacious face so near her own. “Lovely dimples, like little dents in cream. I have given up all hope of dimples. My dimple-dream will never come true; but so many of my dreams have that I mustn’t complain. Am I all ready now?”

“All ready,” assured Diana, as Marilla appeared in the doorway, a gaunt figure with grayer hair than of yore and no fewer angles, but with a much softer face. “Come right in and look at our elocutionist, Marilla. Doesn’t she look lovely?”

Marilla emitted a sound between a sniff and a grunt.

“She looks neat and proper. I like that way of fixing her hair. But I expect she’ll ruin that dress driving over there in the dust and dew with it, and it looks most too thin for these damp nights. Organdy’s the most unserviceable stuff in the world anyhow, and I told Matthew so when he got it. But there is no use in saying anything to Matthew nowadays. Time was when he would take my advice, but now he just buys things for Anne regardless, and the clerks at Carmody know they can palm anything off on him. Just let them tell him a thing is pretty and fashionable, and Matthew plunks his money down for it. Mind you keep your skirt clear of the wheel, Anne, and put your warm jacket on.”

Then Marilla stalked downstairs, thinking proudly how sweet Anne looked, with that. Lucy Maud Montgomery quotes- Anne Of Green Gables.

Follow me for more inspiration! 💜💕

[corinnemoreno]

closed starter: @spencermhq

location: lincoln park

"Okay, I know the whole pottery thing didn't work out, on account of the— my toxic relationship with clay," gesturing in a wide arc with the takeout coffee cup in hand, other arm looped through Spencer's, Corrie blew out a huff of breath. The park and its tree-lined path weren't the subject of her exasperation by a long shot, of course, but directing that same sweep to the friend at her side hardly seemed fair, and the pottery studio at the root of it all was nowhere in sight. Though that was hardly the point in her brief foray into complaining anyway, and Corrie was quick to move on and chirp, "but I heard they're doing one of those paint and sips classes across town next weekend. But it isn't wine? It's 'artisanal tea' and charcuterie boards. Personally, I think we should go. I'll be better at this!" She paused there, just to grin, and to bump him with her hip, "I have to be."

[lesbianmaxevans]

THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH || 1.09 ‘THE WORLD FALLS DOWN’

Newton is still the asset. He was always the asset. [Finch] kept an ear out, and when he popped up in a tornado, she knew she had to send you, because you’d never stop. Never! You’d see the specter of your mother in everything she sent you to chase. Even him. Even me. I can live with that. She might even love you. And you know you love her.

[Image Description: Ten stacked gifs from The Man Who Fell to Earth.

Spencer has tears in his eyes as he points his gun at Faraday. Faraday: And because she knows you loved her, she took away the only thing your mother would recognize. Spencer, voice shaking: I can live with that. Faraday: She took away the one and only thing your mother needed to find you. Spencer exhales shakily. Spencer: Tell me what it was. Tell me. Faraday: Is that question five? Spencer holds the gun up to his head. Gunshots can be heard in another part of the building. Spencer: Tell me! Faraday: Is it question five? Spencer, crying: I know the answer. She took away my name!]

[anarchswild]

I sat down to draw new art for a couple of them for this.

On the left we have Orion Grimaldi, a former Revenant who enjoys embedding gemstones in their own skin and that of their ghouls. They've completely replaced their hands with gems. They ended up diablerizing their sire and are currently a bit busy with trying to track down their twin (who is a Revenant and Hunter) to embrace them. Normal Twin Things.

On the right is the newest guy I've been cooking up, One of Many Masks. They're a Dark Ages kindred with the Promethean Clay merit and Faceless flaw, turning them into a massive inconsistency in regards to their appearance every night. Their Vicissitude is just a tool to them, nothing they particularly enjoy. Also yes that is a tiny dragon on their shoulder. That is a manifestation of their Beast that they use to unnerve people.

honorable mention is Samantha, a Tzimisce who is pretending to be a Gangrel. She's following the lead of her sire and grandsire, Anarchs who also pretend to be anything other than Tzimisce. Her sire, James Obertus is a former Revenant pretending to be a Gangrel, while her grandsire Dr. Leopold Spencer is an Old Clan whose merits let him pass off as a human.

attention vtm community I require your cool tzimisces. please show me them please please please pl

[thebridgehqs]

Most wanted characters for connections?

some of our members answered with: Tara, Darcy, Elle, Tao (Heartstopper), Freddie, Harper, Millicent, Spencer (ICarly), Anyone (XO, Kitty or To all the boys), Jack, Grace, Vincent, Karen (Will and Grace), Wilhelm (Young Royals). Shay, Ziio, Conner, Edward (Assassins Creed), Grog, Caleb Widogast, Yasha, Nott, Cadeusus Clay, Mollymauk Tealeaf (Critical Role), Georgianna Darcy, Jane Bennet, Lydia Bennet, Mr. Collins, Mr. Bingley (Pride and Prejudice), Meg Giry, Madame Giry (Phantom of the Opera). Michonne Grimes, Glenn Rhee (The Walking Dead), Sansa Stark, Robb Stark, Daenerys Targaryen (Game of Thrones), Toph (Avatar: The Last Airbender), Willow Rosenberg, Angel, Tara Maclay, Dawn Summers, Anya Jenkins (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)

[samithemunchkin]

[abundanceofsoph]

An Altercation at the Bulkhead

So I decided to take a break from writing SkyFire because I recently got myself obsessed with SEAL Team and needed to give my fav Brock a little love.

The team had just returned home after Clay’s first mission as an official member of Bravo and to celebrate they all headed to the Bulkhead. As the boys headed for a couple of empty tables towards the back of the room, Jason returned the friendly wave from the bartender, stopping to chat before joining the boys.

“You all just got back?” the blonde asked with an Irish lilt to her words.

“Yeah landed back about an hour ago,” Jason replied. “Mind setting us up with a round of beers, Lou?”

“Not at all. You seem to be missing two,” Lou pointed out. “Everyone make it back safe?”

“Don’t stress,” Jason answered. “Ray’s just tucking the kids into bed and Brock’s dropping Cerberus at home.”

“Glad to hear,” she sighed, the concerned pinch of her brow easing in response to Jason’s assurance. She finished pouring the pints and set them up on a tray for him to carry over to the rest of them team.

Clay had his back to the bar, so he didn’t notice Brock enter a little while later. He also didn’t see him make a beeline for the blonde bartender that Jason had spoken to on their way in. He didn’t see the way they held each other’s eye when she handed him a beer or the comfortable way they spoke to each other. He only noticed Brocks arrival when he all but fell into the seat next to him.

Much later in the night, well after Ray had joined them and they were several rounds in, Trent drew everyone’s attention back to the bar. “We might have a problem over there,” he said, nodding towards where a small group of young college guys were leaning on the bar. Even from their spot in the far corner of the room it was clear that Louisa was not appreciating their attention. They all continued to watch as the tallest of the men leaned further across the bar towards her and she took a quick step back.

“Alright let’s go kick some heads in,” Sonny announced, already rising from his seat.

“Sonny, don’t,” Brock warned. “She can handle herself. You know she’ll be pissed if you step in.”

“I know she can handle herself Brockasaurus, but she shouldn’t have to. That’s our girl over there and those knuckle draggers should be taught a lesson in how a lady should be treated.”

“Brock’s right, Sonny,” Ray added. “I’m sure Lou deals with guys like that every shift. I’m sure she can handle herself.”

They kept an eye on the situation as the night progressed and Sonny settled down when the men moved over towards the darts board. Clay had remained silent throughout the discussion, watching his new teammates, and trying to decipher the dynamics at play. After his first mission with Bravo while he was still on Green Team he thought he’d figured the team out, but he’d been surprised by Brock speaking up to cool Sonny down, as he would have expected Ray or Jason to have played that role. His confusion over the situation only increased a little over an hour later when Brock spoke up.

“Alright now we’re getting involved,” he said angrily, already launching to his feet as he called Sonny’s attention. The two Seals were across the bar before the rest of the team caught onto what was happening. In the moment before they reached the bar, Clay saw the taller college guy from earlier back at the bar, leaning across so that he was in the bartender’s face, his hand clenched tightly around her wrist as she struggled against his hold on her. Brock grabbed the guy, hauling him backwards until he dropped the blonde’s arm and Sonny stepped up to block the 4 other college guys coming to their friend’s defence. Clay was shocked as he watched Brock threw the guy to the ground, pinning him down with a forceful knee to the back. It was Jason who pulled him back as Ray tried to calm down the other men, finally convincing them to get their friend and leave immediately. Brock jumped over the bar, crowding into the bartender’s space as she shook and clutched her wrist against her chest.

“I’m ok,” she told him. “I’m fine.”

Brock didn’t seem convinced, folding her into his arms and holding her tightly to his chest. By this point the commotion had drawn the bar’s owner from the back office and after Jason quickly filled him in on the situation he spoke to the young woman.

“Go home Louisa,” he said. “Get that wrist looked at and take tomorrow night off too.”

“No, I’m ok Brad,” she replied stubbornly. “I can finish my shift.”

“Bullshit,” Brad countered. “Brock get her out of her.”

“Naima’s on shift tonight,” Ray offered. “I’ll call her and give her the heads up that you’re on your way in for an x-ray. She’ll make sure you don’t have to wait long.”

“Thanks Ray,” Brock said as he started herding Louisa outside to where her car was parked.

“Does someone care to fill me in?” Clay asked once the remaining members of the team returned to their table. “Since when is Brock the hot head?”

“Since that jackass was having a go at his wife,” Sonny replied.

“Brock’s married?” Clay asked in surprise.

“Yeah Louisa’s great,” Trent offered. “They’ve been together for a few years now. Got married last year.”

“I would not have picked that,” Clay admitted, causing the rest of the team to break out laughing.  

“You know the funniest thing is the night they met,” Jason chuckled. “Sonny was trying to pick her up and she shut him down so quick before she asked about Brock.”

“We’re never letting that go, are we?” Sonny sighed as everyone howled with laughter.

“Not for as long as we live, brother,” Ray promised.

[oflowtides]

The pursed lips showed up for just a moment before Spencer leaned over to nudge their shoulder into Rowan's. "Of course you do - I just needed my whining to be heard," Frowning just slightly, they took the mast from their sister. "Charcoal clay, huh? Well, the charcoal part certainly won me over."

"yeah, i know, but i've got you covered alright?" of course, rowan listened to what her siblings liked and disliked, she wasn't a mean sister. she leans over to grab a mask from the boots bag that was next to her, "it's a charcoal clay mask, i feel like that's your style".