#sawyer reid

[krispyweiss]

Tony Bennett Dead at 96

- “Tony, because of you we have your songs in our heart forever,” family says

Tony Bennett has died at 96.

The crooner died July 21, his family said.

“Tony left us today but he was still singing the other day at his piano and his last song was, ‘Because of You,’ his first No. 1 hit,” Bennett’s family said in a statement.

“Tony, because of you we have your songs in our heart forever.”

No cause of death was given.

“The best of the best,” Stevie Van Zandt said in eulogizing Bennett. “The last of the legends. A man whose heart was as big as his voice.”

Bennett’s hit-making career stretched across decades and centuries from 1951’s “Because of You” to 2021’s Love for Sale album, a joint with Lady Gaga.

“What a legacy of not only superb, timeless music, but a class-act study in cool, grace and elegance,” Keith Urban said of the singer.

Bennett’s career earned him a genre-spanning legion of fans from Foghat, “what a legendary voice and great human being;” to Sawyer Brown, “there are legends … and then there’s Tony Bennett;” to Al Di Meola, “the most beautiful voice of our lives, our loves and our heartaches;” to Brian Wilson who is “thinkin’ of Tony Bennett” on the day of his death.

In 2012, Bennett performed “the greatest gig I had ever witnessed,” guitarist Joe Bonamassa said in a statement.

“It was like dropping a needle on a record,” he said. “He was the last of the greatest generation of singers and musicians.”

Bennett said in 2021 he had Alzheimer’s disease. He played his final show with Gaga in August of that year.

“That’s how you do it,” Vernon Reid said of Bennett’s “life as lyric.

“Music and art fully realized. So hip. So real. So alive as long as he lived. Before orchestras. Before trios. Before the blank canvas. G.O.A.T. with few peers.”

7/21/23

[reidswrld]

i love this so bad oh my god

caught — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: hotch gives you a call to inform you that you have a case and to bring spencer. the problem? you haven't announced your relationship to anyone yet. content warnings: reader and spencer being worried a/n: one of my fav things i have written actually i love sleepy spencer

The shrill sound of a phone ringing broke the stillness of the dimly lit bedroom. You groaned, your head sinking deeper into the pillow.

“Spence,” you mumbled, voice heavy with sleep. 

A soft hum came from beside you as Spencer stirred. His head rested on your shoulder, and his messy curls tickled your face as he shifted slightly.

“Hmm?” he murmured, barely awake. 

“Your phone is ringing,” you muttered, nudging him gently. 

He lazily lifted an arm, reaching over you to the nightstand. His fingers fumbled briefly before he grabbed the vibrating phone. He cracked open one hazel eye to glance at the screen, then let out a sleepy exhale. 

“That’s yours,” he mumbled, handing the phone over to you before dropping his head back onto your shoulder. His breath was warm against your collarbone, and you felt the weight of him settling back in, clearly ready to fall asleep again. 

You sighed, equally exhausted but resigned, and brought the phone to your ear. “Hello?” you rasped, your voice thick with sleep. 

A familiar voice responded on the other end, monotone and all business. “We’ve got a case. I need you and Reid here in 20 minutes.” 

Your head thudded back against the pillow as you closed your eyes, already dreading leaving the warm cocoon of the bed.

“We’ll be right there,” you mumbled. 

You placed the phone back on the nightstand with a sigh. “Spence,” you repeated softly, nudging him lightly. 

All you got in return was a sleepy “Mmhmm,” muffled against your shoulder. 

You glanced down at him, brushing a few unruly curls out of his face. He looked peaceful, his lips slightly parted and his breath steady.

You almost hated to disturb him. “We have a case,” you murmured, your voice still sleepy. 

Spencer let out a loud, groggy groan, burying his face deeper into your shoulder like a petulant child refusing to wake up. His arms tightened around your waist. 

“Hotch needs us,” you added , trying to sound more awake, though the fog of sleep still clung to your mind. 

“Us?” he muttered, finally cracking one eye open to peer up at you. His voice was hoarse with sleep.

“He didn’t call me,” he said, confusion lacing his tone as he reached for his phone on the nightstand. 

You seized the moment to untangle yourself from his hold, though he made an effort to keep you there, his hand brushing your arm as you slipped away.

Sitting up in bed, you watched over his shoulder as he checked his phone. 

“See?” he said, holding the phone up to show you his blank notifications screen. “No missed calls, no texts. Maybe he forgot about me,” he joked, as he glanced over at you. 

You smirked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you swung your legs over the side of the bed and pushed the covers away. “Ha, maybe he did,” you teased, stretching your arms over your head with a yawn. 

Spencer sat up beside you now, the weight of sleep slowly lifting from his features. His curls were a mess, sticking up in every direction, and you had to stifle a laugh at how endearingly disheveled he looked. 

Spencer’s gaze followed you as you stood up moving toward the closet, his eyes lingering as though he was working through something in his mind.

“Hey,” he said softly, calling your name to catch your attention. 

You paused, turning slightly to look over your shoulder. “What?” you asked, your brows furrowed at the expression on his face. 

He was staring at you, mouth slightly agape as though he were on the verge of some grand realization. “What exactly did Hotch say?” 

Your confusion deepened. “What do you mean?” 

Spencer straightened up a little. “Word for word,” he insisted, his hazel eyes now wide and alert, all traces of sleep gone. 

You frowned, trying to recall the conversation from a few minutes earlier. “Uh…” You hesitated for a moment, squinting. “He said, ‘We have a case. I want you and Reid here in 20 minutes.’” 

The words replayed in your mind, and suddenly, you felt your stomach drop. Your mouth fell open as you turned fully toward Spencer, realizing what he was getting at. 

“How did he know?” you whispered, eyes widening. 

Spencer was already on his feet now, running a hand through his messy curls. “Exactly,” he mumbled, pacing a small circle next to the bed.

His fingers raked through his hair repeatedly, a sure sign he was overthinking every possible explanation. 

Your mind raced as well. “I mean… we’ve been careful, right?” you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. 

Spencer glanced at you. “Careful? Yes. But this is Hotch we’re talking about. He probably knew the second we—” He stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head as though dismissing the thought. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “Do you think he’s mad? Or… I don’t know, does he care? Oh god,” you mumbled, burying your face in your hands as the weight of the situation settled on you. 

Kneeling down in front of you, his hands gently rested on your knees.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady and soothing.

Spencer carefully pulled your hands away from your face, his warm gaze meeting yours.

“We’re going to be okay,” he assured you, his tone carrying a confidence that you weren’t sure if he fully believed himself. 

You stared at him for a second, your expression skeptical. “It’s just Hotch,” he added, like that was supposed to make you feel better. 

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes narrowing in silent disbelief. The unspoken that’s not helping was written all over your face. 

Spencer gave a small, sheepish smile, a little self-conscious but entirely endearing.

“Okay, fair,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “But—” His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

“I’m pretty sure he’s going to be more mad if we’re late. Which, uh… we probably already are.” 

Your head snapped toward the alarm clock on the nightstand. The numbers glowed mockingly in the dim room, and your stomach dropped. “Oh my god,” you groaned, shooting to your feet. “He’s going to kill us.” 

Spencer stood with you, his hands instinctively coming up to steady you as you stumbled slightly in your haste. “Not literally,” he offered, his tone dry but amused. “Probably.” 

“Not helping, Spence!” you shot back, your voice tinged with panic as you grabbed your bag and quickly started tossing things inside. 

“We’ll make it. Statistically, as long as we leave in the next three minutes, we’ll only be…” He paused, doing the math in his head. “Twelve minutes late, which is still within Hotch’s frustration threshold.” 

You whirled around to face him, your hair a mess from your frantic movements. “How do you even know that?” 

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “He’s lectured Morgan for being thirteen minutes late before. Never twelve.” 

“Good to know,” you muttered, zipping up your bag. “But let’s not test the theory, genius.” 

You were now hopping on one foot as you tried to pull on your pants, your mind racing just as fast as your heart.

“What if he's already waiting for us ?” you asked, panic creeping back into your voice. “What if he’s standing in the bullpen, glaring at the clock, just waiting for us to walk in so he can give us that look?” 

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh quietly as he grabbed your jacket from the back of a chair and handed it to you. “If he’s waiting for us,” he said, his tone light and teasing, “then the longer we stand here worrying about it, the worse it’s going to be.” 

You shot him a mock glare as you took the jacket, shoving your arms through the sleeves. “You’re lucky I like you,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing your bag and heading toward the door. 

Spencer grinned as he followed after you, his hand brushing against yours for a brief moment. “I know,” he replied softly.  

[yourfriendlyneighbourhoodsimp]

OK SO annie found out and nancy's boss punched her???

[reidswrld]

sobs i love this so much

quiet moments

summary: after a tough case, you and spencer share a quiet conversation on a plane ride home.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 1.3k

the team had just wrapped up a grueling case and were on the jet back to Quantico. everyone was exhausted, including yourself. yet you could never sleep on airplanes, too many variables that made you uncomfortable. you looked around the plane—most of them had dozed off, but spencer was still awake, his knee bouncing as he stared out the window.

you got up, shifting into the seat next to him, setting down your lukewarm coffee.

“you know,” spencer started, his voice slightly rough from lack of sleep, “sleep deprivation can cause symptoms that mimic intoxication. cognitive impairment, slowed reaction times, even—” he paused, blinking sluggishly. "what was i saying?"

you bit back a smile. “something about being drunk without the fun part?”

“right,” he nodded, then yawned, rubbing his eyes. “also, did you know that octopuses have three hearts? two pump blood to the gills, and the third pumps it to the rest of the body. when they swim, that third heart actually stops beating.”

you hummed in response, more focused on the way his head was starting to droop to the side. “that’s fascinating, spence. why are you telling me this now?"

spencer blinked at you, his hazel eyes glassy with exhaustion. “i don’t know,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “i guess… i just don’t like the quiet.”

you gave him a small smile, shifting to get more comfortable. “well, lucky for you, you’re talking to the one person who can’t sleep on planes.”

spencer huffed a soft laugh, but it quickly dissolved into another yawn.

"why aren't you asleep anyway?" you asked, dawning on you that he was usually knocked out on the way back home.

spencer blinked slowly, like he was trying to gather his thoughts but kept losing them along the way. “dunno,” he mumbled, his voice softer now. “i think my brain’s too full.”

you tilted your head. “too full?”

he let out a tired chuckle, rubbing his eyes. “yeah. too many thoughts. case details, statistics, things i could’ve done differently. it’s like… my mind doesn’t know how to shut up.”

you frowned slightly. you knew spencer tended to overanalyze things, especially after a difficult case, but seeing him this exhausted and still unable to let go of it made your heart ache.

you weighed the options of encouraging him to open up or shifting his focus. in the end, you decided it was best to steer his mind away from it, saving the deeper conversation for a later moment.

“well,” you said, looking around, “if it won’t shut up, maybe you don’t have to fight it. maybe you just need to focus on something else.”

spencer let out a quiet huff, his fingers moving to your sleeve, absentmindedly playing with it. “like what?”

you thought for a moment, then shrugged. “like… okay, if you could be anywhere right now—anywhere but here—where would you be?”

spencer blinked, clearly not expecting the question. he glanced toward the window, eyes distant for a second. “florence,” he murmured eventually. “at the biblioteca medicea laurenziana.”

you grinned. “of course your dream getaway is a library.”

spencer's eyebrows bunched up, but there was the faintest hint of a smile there. “it’s not just a library. it was designed by michelangelo. the reading room has these long wooden benches, and the windows let in just enough light to make everything feel… warm.” his voice softened, like he was already picturing it. “it’s quiet, but not in a bad way. the kind of quiet that makes you want to take your time, let yourself get lost in the pages of something.”

you watched him as he spoke, the tension in his face easing just a little. “that actually sounds really nice.”

spencer hummed in agreement, his head tilting slightly against the seat. “where would you be?”

"see now me personally, i would be at home."

spencer blinked, his tired eyes meeting yours. “home?” he echoed, with a bit of disbelief.

you nodded. “yeah. and i totally thought that's what you would say too! not that your fancy library doesn’t sound amazing, but after a case like this? i’d want to be home. my own bed, my own sheets."

spencer considered that for a moment, his fingers absently tracing a pattern against his knee. “i guess that makes sense,” he murmured. “home is… safe.”

you smiled softly. “exactly. we'd be curled up on my couch, wearing something way too comfortable, eating something terrible for us, and watching a show we've already seen a hundred times.”

spencer’s lips quirked, just barely. “which show?”

you thought for a second, then smirked. “something I don’t have to analyze or think about—just background noise while I relax. maybe doctor who.”

spencer hummed in approval, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he forced them open again. “good choice,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. “did you know doctor who holds the guinness world record for the longest-running science-fiction television series?"

you grinned. “yes, spencer. i think that's the 5th time you've mentioned it.

“it’s an important fact,” he defended, but there was no real weight behind his words. his body was slowly giving in to exhaustion, his hands now folded in his lap.

you raised an eyebrow, amused at how determined spencer was to share his random facts, even as his eyelids drooped. "i’m starting to think you’re secretly trying to get me to memorize guinness world records," you teased.

he let out a small, tired chuckle. “well, maybe you’ll need them one day. what if you’re on Jeopardy and the final question is about doctor who?” his voice trailed off, and his eyes flickered closed again, clearly fighting sleep.

you leaned back in your seat, watching him struggle to stay awake. "spence, if I ever end up on Jeopardy, i think i'll have bigger problems than knowing the longest-running sci-fi series."

he blinked slowly, "you never know," he murmured. "it could be... the question." he nudged your shoulder lightly.

you grinned, nudging his shoulder back. "i’ll let you be my phone-a-friend then."

spencer took your hand in his, the simple sentiment warming his heart a bit.

spencer let out a sleepy hum of agreement, his head tipping toward you just a little as he tried to keep talking. "i wonder if there’s a record for... most consecutive hours spent talking about doctor who..."

you snorted slightly, "i think i know the guy it would go to, actually."

a faint grin tugged at his lips. "oh? do you?" his voice was soft, still thick with exhaustion, but the playful glint in his eyes suggested he was still hanging on to the conversation, however faintly.

"yeah," you said with a teasing smile, squeezing his hand lightly. "he's pretty cute."

spencer blinked slowly, the words registering a beat later than usual. his eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually be too tired to process the compliment. but then, his lips twitched upward in a cheeky smile, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "oh? he sounds like quite the catch," he replied.

you leaned in just a little, a smirk playing at your lips. "yeah, yeah! he really is. very knowledgeable... and, you know, he has this whole charming, slightly awkward thing going on."

spencer let out a soft laugh, but it quickly turned into a yawn. “seems like my kind of guy,” he murmured, the warmth of your hand in his still grounding him, pulling him just a little bit further out of his sleepy haze.

"you’re a little biased," you teased, squeezing his hand again, more gently this time.

a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he tried to stifle another yawn. “maybe just a little."

"get some rest, spence," you whispered, pulling his hand into your lap.

his brows furrowed, like he wanted to protest, but his body was already betraying him, slumping further into the seat.

“just close your eyes,” you coaxed softly, letting your head fall to his shoulder. “pretend we’re on my couch, watching doctor who. nothing to think about, nothing to analyze.”

spencer let out a slow exhale, his body finally relaxing. his head rested against yours softly.

you let out a quiet breath, letting yourself relax too. you listened to his breathing for a while, hearing and feeling the way it got deeper as he slipped into sleep. your eyelids became heavy, and somehow, the pressure in your ears became insignificant.

if this was the closest thing to home you could get right now, you’d take it. your body sunk into the seat, and before you knew it, you were asleep, too.

[pupsmailbox]

NEUTRAL LEANING MASC NAMES︰ abner.　 abram.　 adam.　 adrian.　 alex.　 alistair.　 andreas.　 ariel.　 arlen.　 arley.　 arlo.　 ash.　 atlas.　 auden.　 august.　 austin.　 avery.　 bailey.　 baron.　 barrett.　 baylor.　 beauden.　 bee.　 bellamy.　 bennett.　 blair.　 blaise.　 bowen.　 brayden.　 brendan.　 bronson.　 bryce.　 byron.　 caius.　 caleb.　 callahan.　 callan.　 calloway.　 callum.　 camden.　 cameron.　 carlin.　 carson.　 casey.　 cassian.　 chandler.　 chase.　 cody.　 cole.　 connolly.　 corban.　 corwin.　 cyrus.　 dallas.　 damion.　 damon.　 daniel.　 darius.　 davis.　 dawson.　 daylon.　 denver.　 desmond.　 devin.　 doran.　 dorian.　 drew.　 elian.　 elias.　 ellery.　 ellison.　 emery.　 ethan.　 evan.　 ezra.　 fallen.　 farren.　 finley.　 ford.　 foster.　 gabriel.　 gannon.　 garner.　 gavin.　 gentry.　 graham.　 greer.　 griffin.　 guthrie.　 harley.　 harlow.　 hartley.　 hayden.　 henley.　 henry.　 heron.　 hollis.　 hunter.　 ian.　 irving.　 isaiah.　 jace.　 james.　 jameson.　 jared.　 jeremiah.　 joel.　 jonah.　 joran.　 jordan.　 jory.　 josiah.　 jovian.　 jude.　 julian.　 juno.　 justus.　 kalen.　 kamden.　 kay.　 kayden.　 keaton.　 kellan.　 keller.　 kelly.　 kendon.　 kieran.　 kit.　 kylan.　 landry.　 lane.　 lennon.　 leslie.　 levi.　 leyton.　 liam.　 linden.　 lowell.　 luca.　 madden.　 marley.　 marlow.　 marshall.　 martin.　 mason.　 mathias.　 mercer.　 merritt.　 micah.　 miles.　 miller.　 milo.　 morgan.　 morrie.　 morrison.　 nate.　 nevin.　 nick.　 nicky.　 nico.　 nicolas.　 noah.　 noel.　 nolan.　 oren.　 orion.　 owen.　 parker.　 percy.　 perrin.　 peyton.　 pierce.　 porter.　 preston.　 quincy.　 quinn.　 reece.　 reid.　 reign.　 rein.　 remi.　 remington.　 renley.　 riley.　 river.　 robin.　 rollins.　 ronan.　 rory.　 rowan.　 russell.　 ryan.　 rylan.　 sam.　 samuel.　 sawyer.　 saylor.　 seth.　 shiloh.　 soren.　 spencer.　 stellan.　 sterling.　 talon.　 taylor.　 thaddeus.　 thane.　 theo.　 toni.　 tracy.　 tristan.　 tyrus.　 valor.　 warner.　 wells.　 wesley.　 whitten.　 william.　 willis.　 wylie.　

NEUTRAL LEANING FEM NAMES︰ abigaël.　 abilene.　 addison.　 adrian.　 ainsley.　 alexis.　 and.　 andrea.　 arden.　 aria.　 ashley.　 aspen.　 aubrey.　 autumn.　 avery.　 avian.　 ayla.　 bailey.　 beryl.　 blair.　 blaire.　 blake.　 briar.　 brooklyn.　 brooks.　 bryce.　 cameron.　 camille.　 casey.　 celeste.　 channing.　 charlie.　 chase.　 collins.　 cordelia.　 courtney.　 daisy.　 dakota.　 dana.　 darby.　 darcy.　 delaney.　 delilah.　 devin.　 dylan.　 eden.　 eisley.　 elia.　 ellerie.　 ellery.　 ellie.　 elliot.　 elliott.　 ellis.　 ellory.　 ember.　 emelin.　 emerson.　 emery.　 evelyn.　 ezra.　 fallon.　 finley.　 fiore.　 florence.　 floris.　 frances.　 greer.　 gwenaël.　 hadley.　 harley.　 harper.　 haven.　 hayden.　 heike.　 hollis.　 hunter.　 ivy.　 jade.　 jamie.　 jocelyn.　 jordan.　 jude.　 juno.　 kelly.　 kelsey.　 kendall.　 kennedy.　 koda.　 kyrie.　 lacey.　 lane.　 leighton.　 lennon.　 lennox.　 lesley.　 leslie.　 lilian.　 lindsay.　 loden.　 logan.　 lou.　 lyric.　 madison.　 mallory.　 marinell.　 marley.　 mckenzie.　 melody.　 mercede.　 meredith.　 mio.　 misha.　 monroe.　 montana.　 morgan.　 nico.　 nova.　 oakley.　 olympia.　 owen.　 page.　 palmer.　 parker.　 pat.　 paulie.　 perri.　 petyon.　 peyton.　 phoenix.　 piper.　 priscilla.　 quinn.　 raven.　 ray.　 reagan.　 reece.　 reese.　 remi.　 remy.　 riley.　 rio.　 river.　 robin.　 rory.　 rosario.　 rowan.　 ryan.　 rylie.　 sacha.　 sage.　 sam.　 sammy.　 santana.　 sasha.　 sawyer.　 saylor.　 severin.　 shannon.　 shelby.　 shiloh.　 skye.　 skylar.　 sloane.　 sol.　 soleil.　 sterling.　 stevie.　 sutton.　 swan.　 swann.　 sydney.　 tatum.　 taylo.　 taylor.　 tracey.　 valentine.　 vanya.　 vivendel.　 vivian.　 vivien.　 wren.　 wynn.　 yael.

[lawslinger]

𐚁₊ 𓂃 COWBOY id pack  ( req. )

┄⠀NAMES⠀;⠀wilde, county, chase, ryder, james, clyde, colt, east(on), hudson, josh(ua), jack(son), luke, maverick, mason, connor, graves, reid/reed, colt, stevie, riley, jesse, john, arthur, billy, cassidy, anderson, prairie, sundance, will, shep(herd), farmer, hunter, will, sawyer, todd, walt(er), wayne, elliot, chance.

┄⠀PRONOUNS⠀;⠀cow/cows/cowself, cattle/cattles/cattleself, boot/boots/bootself, farmer/farmers/farmerself, sheriff/sheriffs/sheriffself, rev(olver)/revolvers/revolverself, shot(gun)/shotguns/shotgunself, wheat/wheats/wheatself, fence/fences/fenceself, jump/jumps/jumpself, iron/irons/ironself, mustang/mustangs/mustangself, hoof/hooves/hooveself, mount(ain)/mount(ain)s/mount(ain)self, steed/steeds/steedself, barrel/barrels/barrelself, wood/woods/woods, pry/prys/pryself, kick/kicks/kickself, hit/hits/hitself, dirt/dirts/dirtself, gra(ss)/grass(es)/grass(e)self, river/rivers/riverself, dive/dives/diveself, ace/aces/aceself, spur/spurs/spurself, star/stars/starself, poker/pokers/pokerself, hill/hills/hillself, clad/clads/cladself, clash/clashes/clash(e)self, shout/shouts/shoutself, denim/denims/denimself, gold/golden/goldenself, hold/holdem/holdemself, fire/fires/fireself, punch/punches/punch(e)self, sun/suns/sunself, drive/drives/driveself, holdem/holdems/holdemself, ranger/rangers/rangerself.

┄⠀GENDERS⠀;⠀westerngenreic, cowboygender, cowboybodiment, sillycowboyic, classicowboywestin, cowboysapphic, cowboycoric, cowboypet, cowboy/girlish.

© lawslinger.

[reidswrld]

never been less empty,

sawyer! 20. she/they. loser bisexual. emotionally attached to her cat. luke hemmings luvbot forever. says “i love this song!” to every song on her playlist. hopeless romantic. sam winchester’s gf. spencer reid in another life. el²s #1 fan.

talk to me about! criminal minds, supernatural, cobra kai, julie and the phantoms, 5sos, gracie abrams, harry styles, stray kids, seventeen, enhypen <3

mostly writes! spencer reid, luke hemmings, luke patterson, robby keene, sam winchester, minho [xo kitty], conrad fisher, harry styles, and hwang hyunjin, but is open to most things if you ask!

requests are open.

masterlist wattpad spotify pinterest

…all i feel is free now!

[reidswrld]

good morning my day is now ten times better

just a friend - s.r.

spencer reid x bau liaison!reader. pt two to still a friend.

summary: you thought love was dead to you, locked away -- until you realized its in all the little things.

tags: afab reader, late seasons reader, mentions of themes present in criminal minds, slight hurt/comfort, fluff, later seasons reid

word count: 2k

notes: part two to still a friend! so much shorter because my brain keeps frying every time i type. not the proudest of it but ohhh well.

hiii @reidswrld

It had been a month since you had gone back to work. One month of countless therapy sessions, one month of reassuring hugs from Penelope and one month of recurring nightmares and panic attacks, much to your dismay.

You thought it would go away with time. That speaking about your experience with friends and a licensed therapist would help release you from the burden your subconscious loved to carry. You wished that you could lock it in a cage, push it to the back of your mind like many members of the BAU had done with their own trauma, but you couldn’t. You had always been too emotional.

Your job required you to look at cases similar to yours on a daily basis. Abductions, tortures, murders, a few done at the hands of spouses, partners. Every time you saw a photo of a victim strapped to a chair, you were reminded of that dreaded night in your kitchen, gun to your head and dread sitting deep in your gut.

While things had surely gotten better, you weren’t at your best. You pasted on a smile at work, fluttering around the desks in the bullpen and trying to hide your feelings from the gaggle of highly-proficient profilers. For the most part, it worked. Despite you knowing that they could see right through your charade, they tended to dial back the amount of concern they showed for it.

Except for Spencer.

Ever since you had finally pulled yourself off of his couch and into a new apartment, he had been watching you like a hawk, and you didn’t mind it. His company had become just as soothing as a warm cup of tea. There was a normalcy about the way he cared for you, so hidden and yet so obvious.

Spencer wasn’t the type to do big displays of affection, nor the largest fan of physical touch. While he had his moments, like his warm thigh pressing into yours on the couch or his hand snaking around the back of your neck for a reassuring squeeze, it was obvious that he preferred small acts of service instead.

He hadn’t stopped giving you annotated books. All of them sat on their own shelf in your new apartment, a shelf he had helped you pick out, carry inside and build. He had insisted on organizing them in some type of order, like alphabetical order or by author, but you refused. You kept them on the shelf in the order you received them. It was like a time capsule, looking at the notes he used to write in the margins and how much more personalized they had become over the weeks you two had spent growing closer.

There were also other things. The vase in your kitchen always had a fresh bouquet of brightly-colored flowers in it, usually centered around your favorite color. He called you at night when he knew you were attempting to sleep, knowing you’d struggle to succumb to your exhaustion, fearing the worst. He had never been a fan of movies that didn’t provoke some type of intellectual discussion, yet watched all of your rom-coms with a furrowed brow and a focused pout of his lips. When you had been particularly upset one day, he had taken you to the nearby animal shelter, watching with a ghost of a smile as you giggled at a puppy licking your face.

For him, it had always been about your happiness. For a while, you thought he was just being friendly. Other than the regulating kiss he had placed on your lips on his couch, Spencer had never shown any interest in pushing you any further, only interested in your well-being and the state of your mental health.

For a while, you would admit that he was right to do so. Calling off dating for years, finally dating just to find out he’s a murderer and then calling off dating due to your trauma was a valid reason to not consider your best friend a viable option for a relationship. But it was hard to ignore his care, his tenderness. The things he said without actually saying them. It wasn’t a question on if Spencer liked you back — the question was when either of you would feel brave enough to act on it.

One night, you slept on his couch. You had spent the evening watching all of the romance movies that made you cry until it exhausted you. Spencer had laughed at your extremely empathetic reactions, causing you to laugh until your stomach hurt, shoving at his shoulder with whiny pleas for him to stop.

Half-conscious yet leaning towards sleep, you recall where you are. Your arm aches slightly from laying on it, a strand of your hair tickles your cheek from where it’s trapped against the pillow, the pant leg of your pajamas is pulled up to the middle of your calf. You’re on Spencer’s couch. You’re safe.

That is until you hear the click of a gun, the cool feeling of metal on your forehead.

You gasp so hard you choke on air as you sit up, blinking rapidly as your heart thuds against your chest. You cough at the sudden intake of oxygen as you look around, taking in your surroundings. Spencer’s apartment. Green walls, dark wood, deadbolt on the door. You’re safe, you’re okay. 

“Hey.” A soft, raspy voice comes from near the foot of the couch. You look up to see Spencer, standing in the doorway of his bedroom with the collar of his t-shirt askew and his long curls a mess atop his head. It’s obvious you’ve woken him, especially with the way the heel of his hand automatically rubs at his eye. “Nightmare?”

You shake your head, guilt eating at you for disturbing him. “No, Spence. Just coughing. Go back to sleep, it’s okay,” you insist, not wanting to be a bother. With your jobs, a full night’s rest was a luxury - you didn’t want to take that from him.

Despite your dismissal, he steps closer, looming over the back of the couch as he looks at you. “You’re cold.” He notices, eyes focused on the slight tremor of your bottom lip and the way your fingers clutched at the thin blanket covering your lap.

Nose wrinkling, he turns to head towards the front door, grabbing a blanket off of the arm chair a foot away from it. He returns to your side just to drape it over your body, his fingertips brushing your shoulders as he pulls it up to your chin. You open your mouth to protest, but Spencer just shakes his head as he taps at your shoulder. “Sit up,” he instructs gently, voice barely above a murmur.

And, of course, you listen, moving your back off of the arm of the couch and giving him enough room to slide behind you. His long legs stretch on either side of you, caging you in, as his hands find your shoulders, guiding you to lean back against his chest. 

You react without thinking. You’re sinking into him like you’ve never felt the touch of another before, knees pressing into his as you lay your cheek upon his chest, letting yourself be soothed by the soft thudding of his heartbeat. His arm wraps around you tightly, one hand lying upon your ribcage while the other slowly traces your spine. 

“You won’t be comfortable lying like this all night.” You mumble, eyes already fluttering shut as you try to commit the feeling of lying against him to memory. “You’re too lanky for this couch.”

Spencer hums as if considering, shoulders raising in a slight shrug. His eyes aren’t focused on your face at the moment, instead watching his hand as his fingernails drag along your spine, goosebumps following in their wake. “I feel pretty comfortable right now, actually.”

Scrunching your nose, you open your eyes, chin tilting up just to look at him. “Liar,” you tease, the corners of your lips pulling up into a soft, sleepy smile. It had taken a while for a smile to appear on your face again after that night. Spencer never wanted to see it go away.

His focus finally moves from his hand to your face, eyebrows raising. “Would I lie to you?” He questions, the same taunting lilt in his tone.

You press your lips together at that, shaking your head the best you could with just how much you had molded into him. There’s an uncomfortable swirling feeling in your stomach at the way he glances down at you, solidifying the fact that was what happening right now was real. It was both a frightening and reassuring thought. “No. You wouldn’t.”

A hum rumbles in his chest in response. The hand on your back creeps up to the back of your neck, slender fingers threading into your hair as his nails brush soothingly against your scalp. You’re not sure if it's the exhaustion that makes him so suddenly touchy, but you don’t mind it. You’re convinced you could lay here forever, just like this.

“Thank you.” You murmur softly, index finger dragging along his skin from his elbow to his wrist. He doesn’t even twitch, just as relaxed as you are. It made warmth spread through your body like wildfire.

“For what?” He responds immediately, although his tone stays just as quiet and calm, a sleepy murmur to it.

The soft material of his shirt scratches against your cheek as you look up at him again, his eyes diverting to catch your gaze. “Being here. Being so nice to me. I know that’s your nature, but I feel like you’ve gone past the requirements for a supportive friend.” You trail off with an amused smile, although Spencer could see the sincerity in your eyes.

His lips tilt up at the corners in a sleepy smile, hand falling back to the middle of your spine. “No problem at all. I’d do it any time, any reason.” 

Looking up at him, you find yourself trying to memorize everything about him. The soft slant of his nose, the stray curl that stuck out like an antenna from his mussed curls, the wrinkle around his mouth from smiling. They’re all features you have found yourself finding comfort in, even before the last few months. He’d always been there, whether you had noticed it or not. Inviting you to movies you had no interest in seeing, even if you really wanted to, or staying late in the office when you did just to spin around in the chair on the other side of your desk while he babbled.

Subconsciously, you’re leaning into him further. Before you can think about it, your chin is tilting up higher, nose brushing against his tentatively. You can hear his sharp intake of breath, feel the heave of his chest underneath you, but there’s nothing that indicates him pulling back. 

So you go for it.

Slowly but surely, you press your lips against his. It’s meant to be quick, fleeting, however his hand is quick to skirt back up your spine, holding you in place with a hand at the nape of your neck. The kiss stays smooth, steady, almost agonizingly slow. It’s stable – you’re not surprised.

It only lasts for a couple moments before you’re pulling away, not wanting to seem like too much. Immediately, you lay your cheek back against his chest, letting a giddy smile twitch at your lips at the sound of his quickened heartbeat against your ear. “You’ll stay right here tonight?”

“Mhm.” He hums in response, fingernails brushing against your scalp again. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

Usually, you’d question a promise like that. Wonder if it was genuine, if you’d wake up to be disappointed. But now, being lured to sleep without a fear that nightmares would follow you, you don’t have the time to question it. 

Frankly, you don’t want to.

[lisacameron99]

OC Names

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid's love interest - Alyssa Jackson (oc, no relation to anybody on the show)

Aaron Hotchner's love interest - Olivia Rossi (Dave's daughter)

Luke Alvez's love interest - Sarah Reid (Spencer's twin sister)

Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton's love interest - Audrey Lilyington (cousins to Kate's family)

Anthony Bridgerton's love interest - Polly Fetherington (Penelope's older sister)

Benedict Bridgerton's love interest - Caroline Abernathy (Lucy's older sister)

Grey's Anatomy/Station 19

Andrew DeLuca's love interest - Lindsey Webber (Richard's daughter)

Mark Sloan's love interest - Grace Shepherd (Derek and Amelia's sister)

Alex Karev's love interest - Haley O'Malley (George's sister)

Jack Gibson's love interest - Ashley Sloan (Mark's Sister)

MCU

Peter Parker - Taylor Rogers (Steve's sister)

Bucky Barnes' love interest - Lauren Stark (Tony's sister)

Steve Rogers' love interest - Rebecca Barnes (Bucky's sister)

Thor - Alex Maximoff (Pietro and Wanda's sister)

One Tree Hill

Lucas Scott's love interest - Madison James (Hailey's sister)

Nathan Scott's love interest - Anna Sawyer (Payton's sister)

Q's love interest - Natalie Scott (Nathan's full sister, Lucas' half sister)

Outer Banks

JJ Maybank's love interest - Lily Routledge (John B's sister)

John B. Routledge's love interest - Melissa Jane Maybank (MJ) (JJ's sister)

Rafe Cameron's love interest - Cassie Roberts (progue!reader)

Supernatural

Dean Winchester's love interest - Samantha Singer (Bobby's daughter)

Sam Winchester's love interest - Stephanie Bradbury (Charlie's sistere)

John Winchester's love interest - Meghan Harvell (Wililam Harvell's sister, Jo's aunt)

Shameless

Lip Gallagher's love interest - Alison Milkovich (Mickey and Mandy's sister)

Pretty Little Liars

Jason DiLaurentis' love interest - Andy Rivers (Caleb's sister)

Mike Montgomery's love interest - Emma Hastings (Spencer's sister)

Noel Kahn's love interest - Kate DiLaurentis (Alison and Jason's sister)

Caleb Rivers' love interest - Brooke Montgomery (Aria and Mike's sister)

[hexbimbo]

Dbd HC’s | Random Killer Headcanons.

Killers 🔪🩸

Evan MacMillian

Grew up in Cali, Wisconsin, or Oregon. Pick your choice.

Would’ve been an industrial pioneer. If shit worked out, he could’ve been the DBD version of Jimmy Carter.

Took care of baby animals until his Dad found out.

Max Thompson Jr

Best friends with Philip. They just drink and admire buildings.

“Yuuuuup. My old man built a two story backin’ with all the fixings. The chimneys made outta re-enforced galvanized square steel.”

Pig meat is his favorite meat. Pork chops, bacon, collard greens cooked in the grease.

Philip Oromo

Head over heels for Sally.

These two the iconic elderly couple that sit on the porch all day holding hands.

He loves lemonade.

Doesn’t see the appeal of cologne. Prefers natural, soap scent.

Sally Smithson

Wanted two or three kids with her husband.

Probably would follow trad wife TikTok’s .

Knows really weird cleaning tips.

“A snails slime is a really good glue alternative!”

Michael Myers

Sometimes I get autism vibes and sometimes I don’t?

Has to wear a jumpsuit or his skin feels loose.

Gets lost in his own head, enjoys spacing out

Loves eating with plastic utensils, not that the hospital staff would give him metal forks or knifes anyway.

Lisa Sherwood

Would’ve been a Mikaela Reid if she wasn’t kidnapped.

Only killer who lives in the killer shack. Curls up in the warmth of the basement.

Snacks on snail shells around the swap.

Herman Carter

Loves and Hates Freud.

Low key kinda believes homosexuality and being trans can be cured :/

Weirdly, not from like a bigot perspective? More like a psycho brain doctor who wants to experiment on the brain to expand his research perspective.

gives gay man vibes tbh tho hates everyone equally.

Anna

Doesn’t understand human interaction. Can’t fathom romance, libido, or platonic attraction outside of a child-parent bond.

Studied animals. If she could read and write like Momma, she’d write texts on texts on the animal kingdom.

Enjoys the hunt but also respects.2 nature. Never kills to much of one population (unless a nuisance).

Bubba Sawyer

Like, a hillbilly version of Hannibal Lectors cooking hobby. Sloppy, rough home-cooking.

Makes his own sausages with the perfect amount of seasoning.

Gets nervous without his family. Never went out without a family member. Feels too exposed with out someone to rely on.

Freddy Krueger

Kinda just there. Killers are always surprised to see him about. “Oh damn. You’re still here???”

Likes music from the 70s and 80s. LIVES for Johnny cash.

No, he does not enjoy Ring of Fire anymore.

Amanda Young

When she was a junkie, she was a MEAN junkie. Always jonesing out on a street corner or picking fights with her boyfriend.

Red is her favorite color.

The jigsaw puppet brings her strange comfort. Takes good care of designing them, setting them up, and painting them.

Jeffery Hawk

Every time of addict and nearly every type of mental disorder under the belt. Eating, personality, anxiety, depression.

Has not touched a vegetable since he was a teenager.

Def would yell at a fast food worker for putting cheese on his burger.

Rin Yamaoka

She would’ve fucking won life

If she lived her full life, she would’ve broken her family’s curse.

Probably would’ve won a championship, got a doctorate, and become a prime minister.

Frank, Julie, Susie, Joey

Either the most supportive or prejudiced people you’ll ever meet.

I can seem them thinking you’re “radical” if you happen to be queer but that they would bully you for shits and giggles

All bisexual ( except Susie is canon Lesbian I think???I don’t read the comics)

I can’t listen to Sweater Weather without picturing them.

Adiris

Eats the same stuff everyday.

The most loyal and most rewarded killer though she almost always turns down the gifts.

Wants to look like pre-plague self again but relents.

Believes the plague was a sign from her god.

Danny Johnson

Devious. Says the most out of pocket things.

His camera is his most prized possession. Break it, you die. Touch it, You die. Breath on it? Believe or not, you die.

Can’t stand when people talk to him longer than 5 minutes. Doesn’t know why. He just has a hard time paying attention.

Demogorgon

Branches? Nibbled. Hair? Nibbled.

Can’t explain it, won’t explain it. Loves squids.

Lurks in swamp water with Lisa.

Kazan Yamaoka

Best Worst Dad goes too-!

Fr though, was probably a mid dad. Super protective of his blood but didn’t really give a shit about them yknow?

Carried his son to a doctor when he broke him and sent money to the family while on his travels but was never really there.

Was very excited to have a baby though! Most time he spent at home was during his wife’s pregnancy and postpartum.

Caleb Quinn

Had dreams of returning to Ireland when he grew up. Everything seemed so simplistic then.

Made little toys for children as a young adult from nuts and bolts.

Devout Catholic. Prays every night before bed, rests on the Sabbath. Being in the relm has definitely jaded his faith but he’s slowly picking it back up.

Pyramid Head

Given the honor of patrolling the forests for rogue survivors.

Has had survivors smack the booty. #bakeryjustuce✊

Can’t sit still. Always needs to be moving forward. Never backward. Always.

Talbot Grimes

Was really handsome before the blight.

Avid Reader. Gets lost in academia.

Was addicted to opium. Thinks he kicked the habit but would still smoke for “health benefits”

Charlotte and Victor Deshayes

They only speak French ( unfortunately 🤢🤮)

I mentioned Charlotte is a hoarder but Victor does his best to reason with her. Does she really need that coffee tin? She has three already at home.

Victor loves to run and climb. All those years fused with Charlotte made him long for some independence, though he knows Charlotte would be upset hearing that.

Ji-Woon Hak

Probably had an only fans before his career took off.

Def makes thirst traps.

Walks around his home naked (or in boxers during the winter.) Nothing sexual, just likes to air it out a little.

Nemesis T-Type

What’s there to be said

Likes stomping

Likes stompy boots

Hates STARS 🤢🤮😤

Elliot Spencer

Eats oatmeal with no water or milk.

Idk the lore

Probably a tattoo artist who does experimental piercings.

“That brings me pain. But I like the pain. That hurts! But…I like the hurt which-

Painted his nails black before it was hip.

Carmina Mora

Pecks her food.

Enjoys flapping her arms for sensory input.

Uses her ink hands as paint. Anytime not spent on trails is paint time.

Sadako Yamamura

Grunge aesthetic overload ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Bookworm ( reads smut like the morning paper.)

Had really beautiful hair before the fall.

Dredge

Wish it had legs. To run. Closer. Faster. Nearer.

Licks liquids like a cat.

Everyone was sad when Maurice went missing. Eventually, the Entity had to return Maurice because it was affecting literally everyone emotionally. Shrines were made. Truces were drawn up.

Albert Wesker

Autism comfort character. Sue me.

“I understood the sarcasm, Chris. I just didn’t think it was funny.”

Was confused growing up why his larger vocabulary was looked weird or teased by other kids. Don’t all children use the word “ailment” or “peer”?

Burn king. Drops the sickest burns of all time. Never holds back. You, yo momma, and yo sister are done for.

Tarhos Kovács

A good butcher. Knows how to divide and roast many types of meats.

Discipline is key. Conditioned to never take a days rest or sleep more than necessary.

Has panic attacks if required rest or bed ridden. Vittario stumbled into his tent one night and was calmly (screamed) at to exit his quarters.

Makes a mean flower crown.

Adrianna Imai

Tried really hard to make her own manga or manga company. Probably didn’t take off because it was too “corporate-y”

Hates bugs. Will be happy the day they go extinct.

Travels to Japan all the time for vacations and business ventures.

HUX-A7-13 and Xenomorph

A romance has begun.

Enemies to friends to slow burn lovers to enemies back to lovers and-

HUX was so ashamed- how could he develop humanoid feelings for something of organic nature?! Even with its…claws and…hatred for humans…ERROR❤️❤️❤️

Tries to court Xeno the best it can but it doesn’t quite get English or gestures.

“I have procured two human spinal fluids for your consumption. Does this please you?”

Xeno frustrated that the pink metal thing is always near. You’d think nearly tearing it apart the first 10 times would make it go away!

Charles Lee Ray

Him and his wife are in paradise.

Lowkey living it up. They’ve got a home, food, and all the murders to their hearts content.

Tiff loves to bake and cook in her spare time.

Once asked to be returned to his human form. Was denied.

Unknown

Has the best drip.

Major troll. You’ll be pissing on the outskirts of the survivor camp and hear…CRACK 🦴 somewhere in the bushes.

Collects skins. Try’s (and fails) to fit into skins of smaller animals.

Vecna

So mad he’s here lol

Entity nerfed him to hell.

Hates the smell mead and fun.

[sl-newsie]

Mature (Dr. Spencer Reid x College Student)

(Summary: The BAU gets a case that takes place near a college campus, and one student seems to catch Reid’s attention. There is a bit of an age gap. This is based during the end of Season 6. Warnings: Talk of cannibalism, gun violence)

“Remember class: Monday’s exam will have 150 questions and no makeups. Remember to study hard!”

My dental hygiene professor finally releases us, signaling the beginning of the weekend. It’s currently 5:30 on a sunny but crisp Friday in October. Nothing special, but the lack of leaves and chilly frosts makes it one of my favorite seasons. But I can’t take too much time to watch the weather- I’ve got work to do.

Of course I’m the only student who dares to sit in the front of the lecture hall, and I take my time to gather up my things as the others start filing out.

“You going to the game tonight?” One guys asks his friends.

“Yeah it’s gonna be sick! You’re bringing the beer, right?”

“Sure am! And what about-” He whispers: “The pot?”

Their conversation dies away as the walk out of the room, leaving me to shake my head in disappointment. No doubt their whole weekend will involve drinking, getting high, and possible sexual content. More than likely they’ll fail the exam.

“Merrian! Are you coming to the game?” I hear one classmate, Regina, ask.

“No, I can’t. I’m going for a jog and then starting my flashcards for the exam.”

Regina, one of the more popular and *cough* snobby girls gives me a fake smile. “Oh you never go to any social events! Why not give that brain a break and be a college student for once?”

I just shake my head and continue to look through my notes. “I am being a college student, only I’m being a smart one and actually trying to get through this class without depleting any brain cells through alcohol abuse.”

But my insult flies right over Regina’s head. She just keeps smiling, turns and walks away, leaving me (no surprise) alone again. But it appears today has something else in store, because the door opens and my professor walks back in leading a group of people who look way too professional for a place like this. The one that appears to be the leader is tall, dark-haired, and is wearing a traditional business suit. The man following next to him appears to be of Italian descent and is wearing a dark suit similar to the leader’s. Next is a blonde woman wearing- quite honestly, one of the most unique outfits I’ve ever seen. It’s a purple and blue patterned dress, hot pink heels, and a big purple bow with her hair in pigtails (it almost puts my current Veronica Sawyer gray skirt and blue blazer outfit to shame). Another man is bald with darker skin and a more athletic build, wearing a more laid-back style of clothing, obviously the muscle of the group. And last behind him is- huh. He’s a lot younger (and much cuter) than the others, one might say a few years older than me. He’s dark-haired like the other men and wearing slacks with a white shirt with a gray vest and blue tie, almost matching me. But what stands apart from his attire is the pistol tucked in a holster attached to his belt. It’s almost like the one I’ve got tucked under my skirt (for protection, of course). Are these guys from the police station? They don’t look like local authorities.

But sadly I’m still in the front and am caught looking.

“Who’s the model?” The blonde with pigtails asks, making me turn pink.

My professor finally notices me. “Oh yes. This is Merrian, one of my students. She’s just packing up-”

“On the contrary, it might be nice to have a younger person’s opinion on this matter,” the Italian agent speaks.

A younger opinion?

“By the way, I love your blazer!” The blonde squeals and rushes over to get a better look.

I title my head. “Not too bad yourself, Barbie.”

But the leader doesn’t seem too impressed. “At ease, Garcia. Remember why we’re here.”

The blonde nods and backs off, leaving me facing the group head-on.

“Is she trustworthy? We need to keep this as confidential as possible,” the athlete says.

My professor nods her head. “Merrian is one of the most dedicated students I have. I guarantee she’ll give you her best effort.”

“Very well.” The leader steps forward to shake my hand. “I’m FBI Agent Hotchner of the BAU. These are Agents Rossi, Morgan, Garcia, and Dr. Reid.” He points to each agent, and when he introduces Agent Reid I can’t help but notice his body language shifts. He keeps playing with his hands and changing his footing, and isn’t as relaxed as the other agents. Maybe he just drank coffee.

I give a small wave. “Hello. So, what is it you guys do? Obviously you’re a government department but I’ve never really paid attention to that stuff.”

“Don’t you watch the news?” The blonde ‘Garcia’ asks.

“Nope.”

This answer gets me surprised reactions, especially from Reid. 

“Why not?”

Yes, he’s definitely younger. His voice reminds me of the smart nerd type, but with my educational history I’ve never actually been able to meet many smart guys so it’s very new to hear this.

I shrug. “Ignorance is bliss. I figure if there’s something that’s truly important that’ll affect me then I’ll hear about it sooner or later. I try not to let the fear that strands from current events control my life.”

“Ok. Then to catch you up, we have a potential threat that’s been sited near the edge of town. There’s a man who’s been catching people in hunting traps and then eating them.”

Uh- Oh my! Was not expecting that. 

I try to keep a steady face. “Alright. So what does this have to do with me?”

“Your current study of dental work, plus the unsub seems to prefer female victims,” Reid speaks up. “There’s one witness who managed to escape his trap, but not before he bit her. We’ve been able to analyze the teeth marks, but it doesn’t match the correct dental records. They show the unsub’s supposed to be someone who died 10 years ago. We checked the death certificate and sure enough the body’s buried in a nearby cemetery. Do you have any ideas why?”

I take a deep breath and try to piece together what I’ve learned so far. I’ve only been in this program for a year, but that doesn’t mean I’m useless.

“Take your time,” Agent Rossi assures. “It doesn’t have to be much, just anything we might have missed-”

I snap. “I got it! Have any of you guys ever seen the movie The Whole Nine Yards with Bruce Willis?”

Most shake their heads, but then Reid seems to follow my idea.

“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Brilliant, Marrian!”

“Excuse me, mind letting us in on your inside joke?” Agent Morgan questions.

“At the end of the movie, they modify another body’s teeth to match Bruce Willis’ character and then burn it in a fire so the mafia will think he’s dead. What if this unsub had dental work done so he couldn’t be traced? ” My explanation starts the agents sparking up new conversations, leaving me to believe I might have actually just helped solve an FBI case.

“I know it’s not the type of professional answer you might have wanted.”

“That’s just the kind of insight we were looking for,” Agent Hotchner finally addresses me. “Thank you, Merrian. We’ll be sure to stay in touch and inform you if this threat is neutralized.”

He walks out, followed by Morgan. But the others linger for a moment.

“You’re taking all of this surprisingly well,” Rossi points out. “Ever consider becoming a profiler?”

I chuckle. “I did once, a few years ago. Sociology is one of my favorite subjects to learn, but I’ve just used that as a hobby. When I looked further into the job description I decided I wanted a career that wouldn’t take so much out of my free time. So for now I’m sticking with dental hygiene.”

He nods. “Well if you change your mind, here’s my card.” He hands me his contact info and exits after the other 2 agents.

“Tell me- where did you get your shoes?” Garcia asks when she points to my feet.

“Oh. Um, Goodwill actually.” I’m a bit embarrassed to say I’m a thrifter, but in college all money must go to classes.

“They’re so cute! I’ll email you my list of favorite thrift websites later,” she remarks as she walks to the door. 

“B- But Agent Garcia you don’t have my email-?”

“I’ll find it.” She winks. “And call me Penelope!”

She gives Reid a smirk and shuts the door, leaving me alone with the last agent.

“I gotta ask, how old are you?”

My blunt question doesn’t seem to be new to him. “30.”

I was right!

“Sorry for asking, but it’s just very different-”

“To see someone like me on a government bureau team,” he finishes. “It’s ok, lots of people ask. I could say the same thing about you.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

He mirrors my confusion. “Aren’t you close to my age?”

“I’m 22.”

Reid’s eyes widen. “No way! You look- I mean, you seem- Um… you don’t act 22.”

I chuckle and go to grab my backpack. “I get that a lot. My mom says I’m more mature than most people my age, which means I have to be forced to associate with immature peers. I just hope other people never assume I’m the typical college type. You know, drugs, drinking, sex, procrastination. I’ve never even gone to one party. I apologize for the idiots you might come across here.”

I expect the FBI agent to leave it at that and go off to find his team, but instead he jogs up behind and walks with me down the hall.

“No I don’t see you like that, it’s just… you’re definitely more mature, and seem more clear-headed than the other students I’ve seen here so far.

I hold my head back and laugh. “Oh, no. By no means am I as smart as you might think. I have what I call ‘selective knowledge.’ I never picked just one topic I like, so I find bits and pieces of information about all kinds of topics. But not too much in depth that I’m an expert. With what I know about you so far I’d say you’re way more smart.”

He looks down. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Spill it. What’s your education background?”

“Um… I’ve got PhDs in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. Bachelor’s in psychology, sociology, and in the process of one in philosophy.”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at him with wide eyes. “And you’re downplaying that? Jesus, you’ve got more knowledge stuffed in your brain then I’d ever have in 5 lifetimes! Why choose a job in the BAU?”

He considers this. “I find that I do some of my best work under intense terror.”

I nod. “It’s nice to know what type of job works best. I’ve jumped around different jobs, and still haven’t found one that fits right. As for the terror thing, props to you for dealing with that on a daily basis.”

Dr. Reid seems surprised. “Hm. You don’t mind crazy talk, do you?”

I stifle a laugh and hold the next door open for him to pass. “‘Crazy talk?’ What’s that?”

“Talking about subjects that any random passerby would find odd, like murder or psychological disease.”

“You’re talking to someone who watches The Conjuring as a comfort film. I don’t call that crazy talk, I call that enjoyable conversation,” I smile cheekily as he walks past me through the doorway. “You gonna go find your team now?”

Reid clears his throat and bites his lip. “Well, um… Since the unsub’s been sighted near the city I should make sure to get you to your dorm safely.”

This unsub must be pretty dangerous for him to be this anxious. Or is it something else that’s got him so worried? I must say it feels nice to have a smart guy to talk with who’s actually taking the time to make sure I’m safe instead of daring me to chug a beer.

“Aw, that’s sweet. But I don’t live in a dorm, I live in a small rented room downtown.”

“Really? I guess you really aren’t like normal students. So where are you going now?”

Is he asking professionally or out of curiosity?

“There’s a secret spot I have in the theatre lab. Dark and quiet with a nice table. Good for studying.”

He perks up. “Dark? Do you think you could show me?”

I shrug and start leading him to the lab, pushing my sleeve back to check my watch. “Sure, just don’t tell anyone. I like having a place where stupidity is at a minimum.”

Reid gets a wide grin on his face and follows eagerly. “Your secret’s safe with me. It’s kind of embarrassing but lately I’ve been dealing with- Oh my gosh! Are you hurt?”

I follow his gaze to my arm, which has gauze wrapped around it. I’m surprised he noticed- usually people don’t give it a second thought.

“Wha-? Oh, no. I donated plasma earlier today and have to keep this on for 2 hours.”

“I see. Do you get paid?”

“Yup. If they’re willing to pay me to sit in a chair for an hour, money is money. Gotta pay the college bills somehow. So what have you been dealing with?”

“Right. Um, I’ve had these headaches for a while now and none of the doctors I’ve seen can tell me what’s wrong. They’re triggered by bright lights, so that’s why I like to find dark places to think.”

Hearing this makes me sad, especially since a nice guy like him shouldn’t have to go through something like that.

“Then don’t have me keep ya waiting. Here we are!”

Now we’re at the theatre lab and when I open the door to let him in, Reid . “So then how are you liking your dental hygiene clinicals?”

I set my backpack down and switch a small light on. “I like it, but it’s more of a job that pays well and allows me free time. Next summer I’m looking into a program that gives me a certificate in culinary pastry design-” I stop myself before I start ranting. “Sorry, I don’t mean to talk your ear off. People don’t always listen this long so I usually just talk to keep away any awkward silence. Americans are intimidated by it, you know.”

Agent Reid just nods and sits down on a nearby stool. “I don’t mind. I like hearing you talk.”

“But it’s not as intellectual as you’re used to.”

“Maybe not, but- how should I describe it? You’re like a funfetti cake.”

Reid’s analogy makes me giggle and give him an odd look. “Um, thanks? How so?”

“Because you’re not just one flavor. You bring a sprinkling of all different topics, and none of them are boring or immature. Go ahead, continue.” Reid sits back as if he’s sitting in for a lecture, and I’m the teacher.

“Um… ok. So anyways, between work, school, and all my other hobbies it’s no surprise when I keep telling my mom I haven't gone on a date-”

“Wait, seriously?” Reid interrupts. “You’ve never gone on a date?”

I try to ignore the heat rushing to my cheeks and go turn on the music speaker. “Never got a chance to. Back in high school I was more introverted and read all the time. Now no one wants to be around a boring, mature college student who dresses… like this.” I gesture to my unusual outfit.

“Hm. I’d think you would’ve been able to find at least one decent guy.”

I’m not sure if he’s kidding or just trying to be nice.

“Don’t make me laugh. Even the few guys I’ve talked to see me as a colleague or acquaintance, not even friendship status. I’ve steered clear of all the red flags and bad habits college kids typically get into, and it’s gotten me this far. All I’ve got is some family, my cat, and my brain.”

Reid doesn’t say anything, and a part of me is glad for it while the other half is a nervous wreck. While I don’t want to really get into the details of my miserable social life, at the same time I’m strangely anxious about what the handsome doctor thinks of me.

“It’s the musical season, isn’t it? I can tell you’re a fan.” How does he-? “I’m guessing on account of the Newsies sticker on your water bottle and your outfit that resembles Veronica Sawyer from Heathers.”

A smile grows on my face. “Oh! A profiling genius and a theatre fan! You’ve got quite the brain, Dr. Reid.”

“I actually only recently got interested in it after watching one of Garcia’s plays- oh! You actually remembered!” Reid scratches his head and smiles. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“People don’t always address me by my full title. So what’s on your agenda now?” He seems to rethink and adds: “Not that I’m being nosy!”

His curiosity isn’t uncomfortable for me. If anything it’s nice to have someone take an interest.

“I was going to practice for musical auditions, but since you’re here I’ll just do some homework.”

“Oh I don’t mind! Really! I won’t laugh, promise,” Reid says sincerely.

“No, no. I do my best work alone, as always.”

He frowns. “That’s not a healthy mindset.”

I chuckle darkly. “I’m not exactly the ‘teamwork makes the dreamwork’ kinda gal. I’ve always done best on my own, so I don’t argue it-”

“Attention, attention!” The intercom starts blasting an alarm overhead. “There has been a potential shooter spotted near the edge of campus. All students, staff, and visitors are to head immediately towards a sheltered area. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill!”

Agent Reid immediately goes alert and checks his pistol. “We better get to a more secure location. Come with me!”

He goes for the door, but I don’t see a reason to leave.

“No, you go find your team. I’ll stay here. It’s a hidden spot, anyway.”

But Reid shakes his head with concern and takes my hand. “No, I can’t allow that. If the unsub is here he’ll go after you. You’re his type, Marrian, and I won’t let you get hurt.” 

Wow. I’m sure he’s just doing his job. Still it’s becoming incredibly difficult to ignore the growing affection for the geeky agent. And it doesn't help that normally I’m a very anti-touching person. 

He pulls out a cell phone and dials a number. “Hotch, this is Reid. What’s your location?” After a few moments he says: “Yes, I’m here with the student we interviewed in the theatre lab. We’ll meet you there. Yeah I know, we’ll be careful.” Reid seems to notice my slight reaction to his physical touch and his hold tightens. “I need you to stick close to me, understand?” 

I nod and follow him out. “This is… definitely not what I planned for a regular Friday evening, but as my mom always says I need to stay open-minded. Lead the way, Dr. Reid!”

His stern face lightens by a fraction. “Um, you can call me Spencer if you want.”

Is- Is he trying to flirt? Seriously, I wouldn’t know. Somebody tell me!

“Isn’t that less professional? I thought you FBI guys were all suits and no humor.”

He doesn’t answer and triple-checks the hallway before signaling the all-clear. We quietly make our way to the main office, and the whole time I’m trying to ignore Reid’s hand clutching mine. 

“We'll be able to-”

“Look out!” I push Spencer out of the way just as a bullet flies past my head, but I’m not too lucky with the second one. It buries itself in my left shoulder blade and the sudden force sends me crashing to the cold floor.

“Oh my God!” Reid shouts and kneels down to address my wound.

“Well hello, my pretty,” a deep sinister voice chuckles. A figure in a black hood lurks out from the corner, with a hunting rifle pointed directly at Spencer.

“I’ve gone too far this time, too far to disappear. But I’ve got one more chance, right? That’s right.” He points at me, the gun wedged pointed on his shoulder. “I’ve been watching you, girly. And I like you. Your healthy diet is most delightful, and…” He gets a twisted look with a sinister smile on his face. “Such a pretty face…”

“You leave her alone!” Reid speaks sternly. 

I turn to find him pointing his pistol at the unsub, but the man just laughs.

“My my, Dr. Reid. You’ve grown quite attached to this woman. I’m almost sad to have to kill her and end such a blooming young love.”

Love? I don’t know who this guy thinks he is, but he’s creeping me out! Still not what I planned for a regular Friday evening… 

The unsub starts to creep closer, and before I know it I’m backed against the wall with Spencer at my right.

“Don’t you touch her!” Reid shouts. “Stand back or I will shoot!”

“Oh no you won’t, Dr. Reid!” The unsub turns angry. “You won’t, or else I will skip my evening meal and blow a hole in this girl’s brain right now!”

He’s going to kill me… Eat me… Oh God. But I can’t let him hurt Spencer. His life is worth a thousand times more, and I couldn’t stand to see him get hurt.

The unsub is still focused on Spencer, so while he’s distracted I slowly inch my hand towards my skirt, almost to my concealed pistol-

Bam!

The unsub fires what seems like a warning shot and in the sudden chaos Reid fires his gun too. Reid doesn’t get shot, and instead his own bullet buries itself in the unsub’s calf. He stumbles out of sight around the corner.

“Quick! In here!” Reid pulls me into a nearby classroom and shuts the door. “Are you in pain?”

Yes! Every inch of skin in my shoulder is screaming at me and the adrenaline is starting to wear off, allowing the pain to escalate. But I need Reid to focus on the task at hand.

“I’m fine. I’m fine…” My head starts to feel dizzy and I put a hand to my shoulder, pulling it away to find it covered in blood.

“No you’re not fine. Here-” Spencer takes off his tie and does a makeshift tourniquet near my acromial region. “It won’t last long, but it’s the best I can do.” He kneels down and starts searching through his pockets. “I’m all out of bullets!”

“My… my skirt. Under my skirt…” 

He lifts the fabric up to reveal my pistol. “When did you get that?”

“Since I turned 21, but I’m too dizzy to shoot it. Take it!” Reid removes my pistol from its holster, using careful hands to show modest intentions. “Now go. Go stop him.”

“But if you don’t keep appropriate pressure on it then you could bleed out!”

“Just go! I’ll figure it out. I don’t care if I pass out, you gotta go stop him and end this.”

I’m pretty sure Reid’s now speaking through panic mode. “No you can’t die! I still need to ask you out!” Did I hear that right?

“You- what? I think I’m starting to blank out. You need to what?”

But Reid doesn’t answer. He just rubs a hand through his messy hair in frustration, while all I can do is slowly slip in and out of consciousness. When he’s decided his next move he leans down and kisses my forehead, and if it weren’t such an unusual situation I’d actually have butterflies in my stomach.

“I’ll be right back, Merrian. I promise.”

And just like that he sprints out. I don’t know how long it’s been, but soon I hear gunshots in the hall and all I can do before I pass out is pray that Spencer’s ok…

“She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’ll live.”

“Quiet an injury. She’s lucky you were with her.”

“And where is she going to?”

My mind buzzes to life and I start to become aware of my surroundings, opening my eyes to find myself in a hospital bed. My arm has an IV. More than likely they’ve given me morphine for pain control. But the biggest relief is when I see Reid talking to one of the doctors at the foot of the bed.

“Spencer… you’re ok,” I croak through a groggy voice.

He notices I’m awake and quickly rushes over to give me a gentle hug. I see he has no wounds, another relief.

“God Merrian, I’m so sorry. I was supposed to protect you-” He whispers into my hair.

“No, don’t worry about me. You did all you could, Spencer. Is the unsub taken care of?”

He nods repeatedly. “Yeah. I shot him dead right after I left, but by the time I got back you’d already blacked out-”

“Excuse me sir,” the doctor steps forward. “I’m afraid she has to be transferred now.”

I look up with wide eyes. “Transferred? Where? What do you mean?”

“The bullet nicked one of your main arteries,” the doctor explains in a calm voice. “We don’t have the proper tools or expertise to perform the surgery on your shoulder, so you are being transferred to Grand Rapids.

“Then I’m going with her,” Reid pipes up.

“I’m sorry sir, but unless you are a guardian or next of kin then you cannot accompany the patient-”

“She’s the victim of a BAU unsub. That makes this a government matter so I should be able to find an excuse to go-”

“No you can’t, Reid.”

We all turn and find Agent Hotchner, along with the rest of the BAU team, walking into the room.

“We’ve been called back to Quantico. I’m afraid you need to say your goodbyes now.”

Spencer and I exchange disappointed looks, but I figure good things must come to an end. All this unsub business is enough excitement to last me a long time, even though I am sad to see the handsome agent go.

“I’ll be fine, Spencer.” I give him a small smile. “Go do what you do best.” 

He nods, seeming to debate something in his head. “I- I’m glad I got to meet you, Merrian.”

I chuckle. “I should be the one saying that about you, the great Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Spencer returns my laughter and takes my hand again. “Feel better. I know from personal experience that recovering from a gunshot is no easy task. I’ll come visit as soon as I have free time. And… I’d like to take you out sometime, maybe someplace where you won’t get shot?”

His question is asked as if it’s a simple classroom inquiry, but it’s making my heart jump (unfortunately shown by the heartbeat monitor). I can tell Reid’s nervous just as I am, but I know it’s all part of the dating ritual.

“I’d like that.”

He cocks his head. “What part?”

“The not being shot part is definitely a perk, but I’d like to finally go on my first date. With you.”

Spencer gets excited and I can already see the wheels spinning in his head just as Agent Hotchner calls for Reid to get going.

“I- I’ll see you later, then! Hope you won’t mind me ranting about literature by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?”

I squeeze his hand just as the paramedics start to get me ready to leave. “It’s a date, Spencer.”

Reid’s POV

The ride on the Jet is quiet, and as usual I chose to read alone in a corner. This time I’ve chosen Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie, most appropriate for the upcoming holiday in a few weeks.

“Hey loverboy! You gonna join us for a card game?” Morgan smirks from the table. “Or is your head too fuzzy thinking about your new friend?”

“You do know I could still beat you, right?” I ask matter-of-factly.

“Screw cards! I wanna hear all about the boy genius’ new girlfriend!” Garcia giggles.

I just shake my head and turn back to my book, ignoring their gossiping chatter. I won’t let their teasing get to me. Ever since Emily died my mind’s been in a fog, but meeting Merrian seemed to snap me back into reality. Give me something to hope for. All I know is I can’t wait to get time off so I can see her again…

[paintlesscanvas]

hello! any mail boy/girl/enby id packs? /nf!! tyvm if you accept!

and, just wanted to say..

UR BLOG IS GEN SO HELPFUL HELP LIKE ITS SO NICE AND COOL??? LIKE THERES SO MANY STUFF ON THE LISTS I CANT/pos

✉️ . MAILPERSON SNPTS . .

System Names: carrier doves, the mailboys, the mailgirls, the mailpeople, the travelers, those that walk through the city, those that run away from dogs, the deliverers of packages, those that tip their cap, the package pigeons, the stamp collection, the postpeople, the envelope senders, the satchel carriers, letter lovers, dove coos, pigeon squawks, those at the post office, those sorting through letters, the package receivers, the mail truck drivers, those that open mailboxes, carriers of gifts, deliverers of surprises

Usernames: mail4you, wowtherestrees, runfrmdogs, wavetopeoples, down.town, enveloves, pooostoffice, parcelpigeon, penciiilpals, quiet.townn, ghostatthepost, postprince[ss], carrierpige0n, stiiickersss, penpaaaals, flimsypaperrs, doodledanny, envelopunny, maaailbox, inkyyprints, cloudy.town, deliverydutyy, flutteringd0ve, deliverydove, givingdove, giftsfromyrstruly, doodlesforyoodles, no1postman, penmanshiip, heresanote, pitterpatter, boxesrsoheavy, owboxes, writemealetter, smilingparcels, scaredofbarrrks, atthepostoffice, darlingparcels, packagepirate, envelopes4youu, st.ampsss, inkstaaiins, no1letterlover, siillynotes, sentfromaway, organizetheoffice, summerstrolls, envelopesfrmyou, parcelpwr, lettersletters, ilovemail, messyletters, sendingstuff2you, youvegotmail, letterlvr, lovelylettr, mailmale, smilesformiles, parcelfromadove, writingacrssthewrld, prrttymailgrl, prettyparcelsss, g1ftg1ftg1fts, greetingyouu, dizzypackages, ssillystamps, scribblesilly, dancingletters, mailbooooy, hidinginurmailbox, notesfrmthesky, brightdaaay, proudserviiice, in2urmailbox, bewareofd0g, mailtruckdrvr, openbxes, sootcasee, stackofletters, boxoflovers, envelopeoflove

Names: alexander, alfred, alice, annette, archer, archie, arden, arlo, atticus, august, augustus, autumn, barnaby, bartholomew, basil, beatrice, beau, benedict, benjamin, bennett, birdie, blake, cedric, charlie, chester, cliff, clifford, clive, clyde, cornelius, cory, cullen, darwin, diggory, dom, dominic, dorcas, earnest, edgar, edith, effie, elijah, eliza, emerson, emilio, emmanuel, eugene, everett, fennel, flint, florence, flossie, floyd, ford, gale, galina, genevieve, gideon, glenn, greyson, gwendolyn, harriet, harvey, hattie, hayden, holly, ink, ivan, ivy, josette, josie, july, june, kane, kate, katherine, kay, kendell, kinley, kip, kleo, leo, logan, maeve, maggie, malcolm, marion, margot, marlowe, marshall, matilda, mayfaire, melvile, meredith, milton, minnie, molly, mortem, mortimer, nadira, nancy, nannie, navy, neith, nelda, nellie, nells, nettie, ninette, noah, noel, noemi, norman, note, oakley, odette, oliver, orson, orville, oswald, otto, parcel, parker, polly, posey, presley, quill, quinton, ralph, randall, raymond, reed, reid, rhett, romee, rory, rowan, rye, sabina, sawyer, scout, silas, sloane, spencer, stanford, stanley, summer, susan, tallulah, tatum, thelma, thena, thisbe, thomas, tibby, tillie, timothy, tinker, toby, tom, torin, trey, troy, violet, virgil, walden, walter, warren, willard, willow, winnie, woody

Pronouns: letter/letters, mail/mails, write/writes, pen/pens, ink/inks, note/notes, deliver/delivers, gift/gifts, scribble/scribble, doodle/doodles, carry/carry, give/gives, walk/walks, hum/hums, parcel/parcels, package/packages, box/boxs, stamp/stamps, sticker/stickers, smile/smiles, proud/prouds, newspaper/newspaper, envelope/envelope, sun/suns, mailbox/mailboxs, pencil/pencil, scrabble/scrabble, sketch/sketchs, house/houses, satchel/satchels, bag/bags, hello/hellos, twine/twines, string/strings, wrap/wraps, town/towns, cloud/clouds, clutch/clutchs, send/sends, post/posts, office/office, sort/sorts, organize/organizes, rain/rains, flimsy/flimsys, thin/thins, street/streets, apartment/apartments, greet/greets, pass/pass’, road/roads, home/homes, locker/lockers, wave/waves, cheerful/cheerfuls, joy/joys, old/olds, weathering/weatherings, service/services, dog/dogs, truck/trucks, fence/fences, sign/signs, slot/slots, city/citys, drawer/drawers, pin/pins, 🫶, 🌳, 🍃, 🍂, 🪹, ☀️, 🥖, 🥠, 🪃, 🛹, 🎫, 🎼, ♟️, 🚐, 🛞, 🚦, 🚏, 🗽, 🏢, 🏘️, 🏙️, 🎞️, 📺, 📻, 🕰️, 💵, 🪙, 🩹, 🧺, 🚪, 🪟, 🧧, ✉️, 📨, 💌, 📦, 🏷️, 🪧, 📪, 📫, 📬, 📭, 📮, 📜, 📃, 📋, 🗞️, 🗂️, 📔, 🧷, 🖊️, 🖋️, 🖇️, 📝, 🧳

Titles: the cheerful giver, prn who presses stamps to letters, the delivery thing, bringer of mail, prn who delivers packages, the penner of letters, the deliverer of mail, the mailboy, the mailgirl, the mailperson, prn who walks the streets, prn who drives the mail truck, gifter of deliveries, prn who strolls through the city, prn who gives mail [to those who need it], the mailman, the mailperson, the mailwoman, the carrier pigeon, prn who carries mail through the sky, the carrier dove, prn who drops mail from the skies

[correlance]

Theory: Valentino was the famous 1920s actor Rudolph Valentino, the "Latin Lover".

Who was Rudolph Valentino?

Rodolfo Pietro Filiberto Raffaello Guglielmi di Valentina d'Antonguella (May 6, 1895 – August 23, 1926), known professionally as Rudolph Valentino and nicknamed the "Latin Lover", was an Italian actor based in the United States who starred in several well-known silent films from 1921 to 1926, including The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, The Sheik, Blood and Sand, The Eagle, and The Son of the Sheik.

Valentino was a sex symbol of the 1920s, known in Hollywood as the "Latin Lover" (a title invented for him by Hollywood moguls), the "Great Lover", or simply "Valentino". His early death at the age of 31 caused mass hysteria among his fans, further cementing his place in early cinematic history as a cultural film icon.

Valentino was born in Castellaneta, Apulia, Italy…unable to secure employment in Italy, he departed for the United States in 1913. He was processed at Ellis Island at age 18 on December 23, 1913. Valentino never applied for American citizenship, and retained his Italian citizenship.

Arriving in New York City, he supported himself with odd jobs such as busing tables in restaurants and gardening. Around 1914, restaurateur Joe Pani who owned Castles-by-the-Sea, the Colony, and the Woodmansten Inn was the first to hire Rudolph to dance the tango with Joan Sawyer for $50 per week.

Eventually, he found work as a taxi dancer at Maxim's Restaurant-Cabaret. Among the other dancers at Maxim's were several displaced members of European nobility, for whom a premium demand existed…Valentino left town [in 1917], and joined a traveling musical that led him to the West Coast.

[…] With his dancing success, Valentino found a room of his own on Sunset Boulevard, and began actively seeking screen roles. His first part was as an extra in the film Alimony, moving on to small parts in several films. Despite his best efforts, he was typically cast as a "heavy" (villain) or gangster. At the time, the archetypal major male star was Wallace Reid, with a fair complexion, light eyes, and an All-American look, with Valentino the opposite; he eventually supplanted Sessue Hayakawa as Hollywood's most popular "exotic" male lead.

[…] With the Douglas Fairbanks type being the supposed epitome of manhood, Valentino was sometimes portrayed as a threat to the "All American" man. One man, asked in a street interview in 1922 what he thought of Valentino, replied, "Many other men [say they] desire to be another Douglas Fairbanks. But Valentino? I wonder…"

Women in the same interview found Valentino, quote, "Triumphantly seductive. He puts the love-making of the average husband or sweetheart into discard as tame, flat, and unimpassioned."

Some journalists were still calling [Valentino's] "masculinity" into question, going on at length about his pomaded hair, his dandyish clothing, his treatment of women, his views on women, and whether he was "effeminate" or not. Valentino hated these stories, and was known to carry clippings of the newspaper articles around with him and criticize them.

In July 1926, the Chicago Tribune reported that a vending machine dispensing pink talcum powder (face powder) had appeared in an upscale hotel's men's washroom. An editorial that followed used the story to protest the supposed feminization of American men, and blamed the talcum powder on Valentino and his films. The piece infuriated Valentino, and he challenged the writer to his choice of a boxing or wrestling match, since dueling was illegal. Neither challenge was answered.

Shortly afterward, Valentino met with journalist H. L. Mencken for advice on how best to deal with the incident. Mencken advised Valentino to "let the dreadful farce roll along to exhaustion" (i.e. "do nothing"), but Valentino insisted the editorial was "infamous", [and must be answered for in a one-on-one fight].

After Valentino challenged the Tribune's anonymous writer to a boxing match, the New York Evening Journal boxing writer, Frank O'Neill, volunteered to fight in his place. Valentino won the bout, which took place on the roof of New York's Ambassador Hotel.

Heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey, who trained Valentino and other Hollywood notables of the era in boxing, said of him: "He was the most virile and masculine of men. The women were like flies to a honeypot. He could never shake them off, anywhere he went. What a lovely, lucky guy."

Mencken found Valentino to be likable and gentlemanly, and wrote sympathetically of him in an article published in The Baltimore Sun a week after Valentino's death:

"It was not that trifling Chicago episode that was riding him; it was the whole grotesque futility of his life. Had he achieved, out of nothing, a vast and dizzy success? Then that success was hollow as well as vast—a colossal and preposterous nothing. Was he acclaimed by yelling multitudes? Then every time the multitudes yelled, he felt himself blushing inside…the thing, at the start, must have only bewildered him, but in those last days, unless I am a worse psychologist than even the professors of psychology, it was revolting him. Worse, it was making him afraid…here was a young man who was living daily the dream of millions of other men. Here was one who was catnip to women. Here was one who had wealth and fame, and here was one who was very unhappy [in spite of that wealth and fame]."

[…] Valentino was also the "sex symbol" of his time in the 1920s. The sheet music cover for "Rodolph Valentino Blues" written in 1922, to quote the lyrics, "Oh Mister Rodolph Valentino / I know I've got the Valentino blues / And when you come up on the screen / Oh! You're so romantic, I go frantic at the views!

[…] [Prior to his death], Valentino was fascinated with every part of movie-making. During production on a Mae Murray film, he spent time studying the director's plans. He craved authenticity and wished to shoot on location, finally forming his own production company, Rudolph Valentino Productions, in 1925. Valentino, George Ullman, and Beatrice Ullman were the incorporators.

[…] Valentino once told gossip columnist Louella Parsons that: "The women I love don't love me. The others don't matter." He claims that despite his success as a sex symbol, in his personal love life, he never achieved happiness.

[…] In 1919—just before the rise of his career—Valentino impulsively married actress Jean Acker, who was also [romantically] involved with actresses Grace Darmond and Alla Nazimova.

Acker became involved with Valentino in part to remove herself from the lesbian love triangle, quickly regretted the marriage, and locked Valentino out of their room on their wedding night. The couple separated soon after, and the marriage was never consummated [on account of Acker being a lesbian]. 

The couple remained legally married until 1921, when Acker sued Valentino for divorce, citing desertion. The divorce was granted, with Acker receiving alimony. She and Valentino eventually renewed their friendship, and remained friends until his death.

[His second marriage to actress Winifred Shaughnessy, known by her stage name, Natacha Rambova—an American silent film costume and set designer, art director, and protégée of Alla Nazimova, his ex-wife's lesbian lover—ended far more poorly.

The two married in 1922, remarried in 1923, and divorced in 1925. Towards the end of their marriage, Rambova was banned from his sets by contract. The end of the marriage was bitter, with Valentino bequeathing Rambova one dollar in his will.]

[…] From the time he died in 1926 until the 1960s, Valentino's sexuality was not generally questioned in print. At least four books, including the notoriously libelous Hollywood Babylon, suggested that [Valentino] may have been gay, despite his marriage to Rambova. For some, the marriages to Acker and Rambova, as well as the relationship with Pola Negri, added to the suspicion that Valentino was gay, and that these were "lavender marriages".

Some claim that Valentino had a relationship with Ramón Novarro, despite Novarro stating they barely knew each other. Hollywood Babylon recounts a story that Valentino had given Novarro an art deco dildo as a gift, which was found stuffed in his throat at the time of his murder. It is believed that no such gift existed.

There were also claims that he may have had relationships with both roommates Paul Ivano and Douglas Gerrad, as well as Norman Kerry, and openly gay French theatre director and poet Jacques Hébertot. However, Ivano maintained that it was untrue, and both he and Valentino were heterosexual. Biographers Emily Leider and Allan Ellenberger generally agree that [Valentino] was most likely straight, [though others have disputed this].

There was further supposed evidence that Valentino was gay; documents in the estate of the late author Samuel Steward indicated that Valentino and Steward were sexual partners. However, evidence found in Steward's claim was subsequently found to be false, as Valentino was in New York on the date Steward claimed a sexual encounter occurred in Ohio.

[Valentino died on 23 August 1926, at the age of 31, due to complications from perforated ulcer surgery, resulting in sepsis (bacterial poisoning), a collapsed lung, and other fatal conditions.]

[jayswritings13]

Miscellaneous

Glee: Santana Lopez Relationship Headcanons

Scooby-Doo: Mystery Gang x Reader - Fred, Velma, Daphne, & Shaggy

Multifandom: Black Hearts - Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice), Heather Chandler (Heathers), Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz (Cobra Kai), Eddy (Ed, Edd, n' Eddy), & Dallas Winston (The Outsiders)

TMNT 2012: Headstrong & Independent Blind! Reader with April & Raph

Holiday Songfic: Winter Things - Tory Nichols (Cobra Kai)

Holiday Songfic: What Christmas means to me - Santana Lopez (Glee)

Holiday Songfic: I'll be home for Christmas - Lexie Grey (Grey's Anatomy)

Holiday Songfic: Where are you, Christmas? - Curtin Gang (The Outsiders)

Holiday Songfic: Christmas (Baby, please come home) - Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)

Holiday Songfic: New Year's Day - Veronica Sawyer (Heathers)

Holiday Songfic: Kissing in the Cold - Robbie Shapiro (Victorious)

Miraculous: Secret Identity reveal with Marinette & Adrien

Multifandom: What else can I do? - Quinn Fabray (Glee), Samantha LaRusso (Cobra Kai), & Adrien Agreste (Miraculous)

TMNT 2012: Turtles saving reader

Multifandom: Hello Nurse - Robby Keene (Cobra Kai), Santana Lopez (Glee), Danny Fenton (Danny Phantom), & April O'Neil (TMNT 2012)

Multifandom: Congrats, Grad! - Santana Lopez (Glee), Donatello (TMNT), Eddy (Ed, Edd n' Eddy), & Ponyboy Curtis (The Outsiders)

Multi: This is Halloween - Demetri (Cobra Kai), Eddy (Ed, Edd n' Eddy), Raph (TMNT 2012), and Shaggy, Fred, Daphne, & Velma (Scooby Doo)

Pink goes well with Green - Leo (ROTMNT)

[reidswrld]

i love you and your brain sooooo bad oh my god

still a friend. - s.r.

sure hope it was one hell of a kiss, my friend.

spencer reid x bau liasion!reader.

summary: after your new boyfriend turns out to a murderer, spencer will do anything in his power to help you smile again.

tags: afab reader, sunshine x sunshine, mentions of guns, kidnapping, murder & other themes present in criminal minds, panic attack, hurt/comfort, forced proximity that’s not forced at all, i like to imagine it as later seasons reid [however there's no mention of prison arc], still a friend by the backseat lovers

word count: 3.1k

notes: ok hear me out. think about the episode 'lucky' and the episode 'penelope.' that's what i'm going for here. this is my first ever time writing spencer. it took me days. free me.

hey @reidswrld

If you closed your eyes tight enough, you felt like you were still there. Cold metal pressed against your temple, harsh words in your ears, the pull of rope against your wrists. Despite the familiarity of your home, decorated in low lights and multiple potted plants that were loved like your own children, you had been afraid. He had turned it into a place of fear, a spot for nothing but bad memories and bloodstains in your carpet.

It had been almost three weeks since your team had pushed into your apartment, only to be met with the sight of you bound to your dining room chairs, your boyfriend of only a couple weeks holding a handgun to your head. You loved those chairs, and had told the whole team about them right after you had purchased them. They were thrifted, hand-carved by an artist you never had the pleasure to meet. Shame that you’d never be able to look at them the same anymore.

Your boyfriend had been an idiot. A psychotic one, but an idiot all the same. He had left too much evidence behind with his three victims, making it too easy for your team to profile him and pick him out of their list of names. Once you had accidentally let it slip that the BAU was on the tail of their suspect, you had become a problem, needing to be eliminated. So he had tried.

You had worked as a liaison for long enough to learn a few tells of body language, or the original signs of psychopathic behavior. Despite this, you had missed all of them when it came to him. You had been too excited to find someone that could handle your busy and erratic schedule, someone that loved you for you, something that was rare in this day and age. You had even let his passive-aggressive demeanor slide, along with the comments that always tended to sting somewhere deep inside.

After he had been taken down by Morgan and Hotch, you’d wanted out of your apartment as soon as possible. JJ and Garcia had packed up your stuff based off of a small list you provided them once your hands and voice had stopped shaking. They had whispered in your presence, keeping secrets about the case to each other and asking if you were okay. They hadn’t needed to whisper – your ears hadn’t stopped ringing.

For a while, you stayed in a hotel, curled in the cool sheets that smelled like nothing as you stared at the plain walls, so different from the house you had turned into a home with wallpaper and pretty colors. For a while, you chastised yourself for not getting over it faster. You thought about how you should be stronger in times like these, especially with everything you saw on a daily basis in your job as the BAU unit’s liaison. Unfortunately, it was a lot easier to compartmentalize when it wasn’t happening directly to you. 

You weren’t like everyone else on your team, you couldn’t just act like these things didn’t happen.

You tried to trick your brain into producing serotonin. You attempted to shower every morning, eat three meals, even exercise in the seclusion of your hotel room. But every shower ended with you staring blankly at the wall, every meal went untouched, and once you were on the ground, you couldn’t get back up. 

As normal protocol, you were given a minimum of three weeks of leave in the wake of the event. For the first week, everyone took turns checking on you. Penelope brought you fun-colored stress toys that collected dust on the side table, while Emily and JJ sat with you to chat about anything but what had happened. 

And Spencer? Spencer brought you company. He sat at the desk chair in the corner, long legs stretched out as he babbled about anything and everything. Sometimes, he sat there quietly, only speaking up to ask you if you knew the answer to a certain crossword question. Usually, it was something easy, something he already knew. Like, a passionate declaration, like in marriage vows – the answer was too obviously avowal.

Each time he visited, he left a book for you, annotations directed towards you scribbled in the margins and tabs marking the parts he thought you’d like best. The first book, Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen, had a scrawl on the author’s dedication page, with Reid noting both opinions and facts about the book. You felt your lips twitch with the ghost of a smile as you read the definitions of both of the words in the titles and how they were related to the actual book, as you read the words and the facts the doctor had written in the blank spaces.

After a week of Spencer stopping by every day before and after work, you gave him the extra keycard to your room that you had been given when you checked in. A lot of the time you didn’t have the energy to crawl out of your bed, so it made it easier for you. Despite having the key card, he still always knocked, waiting on some type of verbal sign before actually opening the door and stepping in.

One night, he stopped by your hotel room, a take-out bag looped over his forearm as he rustled in his bag for the keycard. Once it was curled between his palm and fingers, he lightly rapped on the door, leaning his head closer to it to listen for your voice calling for him to come in. His brow furrowed when he was only met with the sound of your room’s AC unit and the faint sniffles it attempted to cover.

Immediately, he had bursted into your room after sliding the key card into the slot above the knob, long legs getting him to your bedside as soon as possible. His eyes had softened as he took in the sight of you sitting up, arms laced around your knees, which were pulled up to your chest defensively. Your eyes were dark, sullen, the whites of them red with irritation from pushing away tears. Even your breathing was erratic, chest rising and falling quickly until it sounded like wheezing.

Spencer had pulled you practically into his lap, your fingers gripping at the soft material of his sweater as his large hand ran up and down the expanse of your back. He had murmured soft words that didn’t quite register to you, however were soothing all the same, as he pressed your hand to his chest, letting you feel the steady beat of his heart.

Once you had finally been soothed properly, your breathing evening out as his hand slowed until it lay still on your spine, you explained to him that you had been woken by a nightmare, the same one that had been playing through your head for the past two weeks. Immediately, he insisted that you stay at his apartment. As if proving it would help steer your decision towards a “yes,” he spilled out facts about processing traumas, like how talking to people and reminding yourself of pleasant hobbies, along with being in a familiar place, would help with recovery.

Which is how you ended up curled up on his couch, fingers tracing the pages of the book in your lap. You had been picking through all of Jane Austen’s books since you had started sleeping on his couch, with Emma being your pick of the week. Spencer hadn’t gotten to annotating this one yet, too busy with a new case that had just come in, so you had plucked a pen off of his desk, scribbling notes just like he usually did. It didn’t matter much, since you tended to spill your opinion to him the minute he stepped through the door, however it kept your brain occupied.

Your head raises as you recognize the sound of his key in the lock, looking up and over your shoulder just as it opened. “Welcome home. I’m almost done with Emma. It’s quite amusing, less factual, so I’m not sure if you’ll like it, but it’s good.” You glance back down at the pages as you stick a receipt in the fold of the book, shutting it before continuing. “It’s about a matchmaker named Emma. She thinks she’s the best at it, especially because she set up the governess and a wealthy widower, but she ends up missing all of the signs that the men she’s matching are into her.”

As you speak, Spencer takes his satchel off, laying it on the armchair near the front door before slowly making his way towards his couch. A smile pulls at his lips as his fingers work to undo the buttons on his wrists, brow raising slightly. “You have been reading quite a bit since you settled in here.”

A soft huff leaves your nose as you settle back into the cushions, watching as he perches himself up onto the back of the leather couch. It feels wrong to be so comfortable in an apartment that’s not your own, but it’s almost impossible to not feel soothed by the dark wood that makes up his desk and bookshelves, which were stacked with books upon books of all different genres. The verdun color of the walls alongside the sets of patterned couch pillows and comfortable throw blankets were ten times better than the impersonable decorations of the hotel room you had lived in for two weeks.

“Well, you don’t have a TV, and you can’t play chess by yourself.” There’s a pause, and then you speak again. “Unless you’re you. And I’m not,” you add, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them.

He folds the edges of his sleeves back towards himself, pushing up the fabric up to his elbows, revealing his forearms slowly. “Playing chess by yourself is actually the best way to learn how to play and hone your skills. Many professional chess players, such as Bobby Fischer, often play chess alone. It helps you learn the game and discover what type of player you are. It gives you more time to focus on your moves so that, in an actual chess match, you don’t run out of time before you know what to do.”

You toss the ballpoint pen in your hands at his chest, huffing in mock irritation as he easily catches it and tosses it back to you. “Good thing I’m not looking to switch career paths anytime soon, hm?” Your brow quirks slightly, your amusement apparent only in that little movement.

“That it is.” He responds, still holding a soft smile as his coffee-colored eyes soften around the corners edges. His gaze averts downwards at his fingers as he starts to tug on them, growing sheepish. “How have you been?” 

Despite the vagueness and normalcy of the question, you immediately know what he’s referring to, suddenly finding the loose threads on the blanket over your lap very interesting. “Better,” you admit, seeing no reason to lie. “The nightmares aren’t as bad as they were back at the hotel, but they’re not gone. The panic comes and goes.”

Slowly, like he’s afraid he’ll spook you, he stands back up, moving around the couch before settling a cushion away from you. He leans back against the arm of the couch as he starts working at loosening his tie, pulling it over his head before laying it on his coffee table. “Do you want to talk about it? All aspects of trauma can be lessened by communicating it to a trusted individual. Not necessarily go through it again, like cognitive interviews, but speaking more about the depth of it. How you felt, why you still feel it even after that, the direct cause of feeling like you’re still there.”

Just like that, you’re setting your book aside, knees pulling up to your chest in an attempt to shy away. It’s funny how you can know body language so well and yet not stop yourself from giving yourself away with it. Knees to chest meant a multitude of things, such as defensive posture or an intense interest in wanting to leave conversations or situations. You had to look at the situation as a whole to figure out the exact reason, or the other cues. Hunched back and averted eye contact usually indicated sadness, fear or insecurity. The rub of your own hand against your arm indicated self-soothing. It was all about the context.

Spencer notices quickly, reaching out to brush his fingertips against your kneecap. Despite the soft touch, he doesn’t speak, lips pressing in a harder line as he simply gazes at you. He’s waiting for you to speak, to take in whatever information you’ll give him. 

Looking into his eyes, you realize why people call them ‘puppy dog eyes.’ Glancing into them, you’re ready to spill your guts about just about everything. You’re tempted to tell him about the candy bar you stole when you were in sixth grade, or when you tripped someone in the high school hallway because they kept shoving into you.

“I thought he liked me.” You mumble once you realize you had just been staring at him for the past few moments, plucking at the throw blanket again as you avert your gaze. “But looking back, he was a bit mean. He’d always make these little comments.” You clear your throat as you glance towards the ceiling, blinking quickly to try and avoid the sting of tears. “Like ‘didn’t you wear that shirt yesterday,’ or ‘sure you don’t want to change’?”

As you speak, Spencer’s hand moves to cup your entire kneecap, thumb brushing against the soft spot in the middle. His touch is warm, heating up the skin underneath your sweatpants. He can practically see the words on the edge of your tongue, allowing you to continue. 

Your focus doesn’t stray from the hand on your knee as you let the words fall out. “He’d knocked on my door. It was normal. Stepped inside, let me kiss him on the cheek. Thinking about it makes me want to gag.” One of your hands lifts to touch your fingers against your mouth, tracing the line of your lips as you remember the feel.

“You can feel the change in the room when someone goes from good to bad. I didn’t think it’d be like the movies and shows, where they describe their eyes as darkening or their smile as wicked, but it is. The energy changes. It feels like slow motion.” 

Your breathing picks up as you speak. Spencer’s quick to notice it, body leaning closer towards you, like he’s prepared to catch you if you fall. Your lips part in an attempt to speak again, but the words are swallowed by a soft sob. Before you know it, you’re tumbling down a hill, heart beating faster and breathing growing quicker.

Memories, the science that comes along with them, are all one hell of a thing. Everything about them has an effect on the brain. Things like sounds, smells, textures, they’re connected to the memories. Meaning if you think about them, if you feel them, you end up right back where you were at that time and place. Like how sunshine on your skin reminds you of days at the park as a young kid, or how the smell of flowers brings you back to the farmer’s market on a Sunday after you just moved to DC. 

Thinking about what led up to you being tied up to the chair, you can feel it. The icy chill of fear that cascaded over your back, the dread that sunk deep in your stomach, even the goosebumps that traveled up your arm. They’re all there. It’s like it’s happening again.

Your vision blurs around the edges as you struggle to take in air, hand grasping at Spencer’s for any type of support. You’re aware of what’s happening, but you cannot stop it, not even as you try to take in air into your nose and out through your mouth. His voice echoes in your head, but it morphs into something different, something distorted.

You’re only brought out of your panic by the feeling of lips on yours.

Your eyes widen at the shock of it, chest still heaving as your breath evens out. Your hand still clutches at Spencer’s as you feel your entire body relax, allowing yourself the comfort of kissing him back.

After your entire body has relaxed, your chest no longer hurting with the strain of lost breath, Spencer pulls away. His eyes are slightly wide as he looks at you, studying your face for any signs of being uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. Uhm.” He clears his throat, leaning away from you as he runs his hands through his hair. “Uh, kissing. It releases so-called happy chemicals, such as oxytocin and serotonin, tricking your brain into leaving the panic behind. It also helps you steady your breathing. Nothing else was working so, uh…”

As he trails off, you reach out to grab his hand again, giving it a soft squeeze. “Thank you.” It’s not meant to be a reassurance, but it's close enough. 

You watch as the panic slowly leaves his eyes, settling into only a soft worry, although his cheeks are still dusted with a light shade of pink. “You’re welcome,” he responds bashfully, eyes still looking down at his lap.

A soft laugh leaves your lips as you reach up to brush your tears away, leaning back into the couch again. After a moment of silence, you roll your lips into your mouth before speaking. “Can we go see a movie?”

Spencer’s brows raise in surprise, the lines on his forehead from focusing so much prominent. “Like, at a theater? Are you sure?” He’s still tugging at his fingers as he speaks, head tilting slightly as he assesses all of your body language.

You smile sheepishly at him, body slowly uncurling. “Yeah. I have a tough BAU agent to protect me, don’t I?”

He smiles brightly at that, eyes softening as he glances back up at your face. “That you do.”