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#mfs got bored mid fight

tokillamockingbird427 · 3 months

Note

Trans Man Rorke headcanons [with some headcanons trans headcanons for Keegan and Neptune mixed in] (this is a but long)

Scared the ever loving shit out of Elias the first time he almost keld over from a painful menstruation cramp

Stocks Chocolate, painkillers, and heating pads in his office

Doesn't bother hiding his top surgery scars, most of the guys thought that he just got into a really weird fight until he explained that they were from a surgery he had in his mid twenties

He came out at the diner table when elias was talking about combing two types of cars together and said “I just don't know where i'm going to put the tranny*” [*he's talking about the transmission] and Gabriel replied, “I’d put the tr*nny in the driver's seat” whilst pointing at himself, cue Elias being horrified and rapidly apologising

He then proceeded to lecture Elias and the rest of the guys over the use of words that double as slurs

Both Keegan and Neptune came out to him later that night [Keegan's FTM and Neptunes FTMTNB]

Rorke immediately lectured Keegan on using unsafe binding materials [ace bandages] and lectured both of them for working out whilst binding. He also took the shopping for binders and packers, and taught them how to use KT tape as an alternative to a binder.

He also offered to pay for ant surgeries the wanted

Neptune took up his offer for top surgery

Keegan, meanwhile, blue screened [poor thing is scared of surgery.][okay it may be more of a fear of being alone+unconscious around a group of people he doesn't know that well]

Gabriel assured him that he doesn't need to have any type of surgery if doesn't what to, and that not having them doesn't make him less valid as a trans man

To this day Keegan still has his tits

He started stocking pads and tampons in his office after this conversation

Rorke also made sure that they both had access to a different set of showers then the rest of the guys

And he double checked that they both had a safe place to live

He wound up putting aside some rooms in his house for them

Keegan wound up moving in with him and Neptune tends to stay over randomly

After Gabriel ‘died’ they found out he had left the house to them and they live together now

Gabriel got a *bit* protective over them as well

He also made sure that they could always have access to their testosterone injections

On that note, Gabriel himself prefers to use a gel testosterone

Gabriel shaves his head for gender confirmation reasons

He originally didn't want to get top surgery, he drank a lot of coffee [which helps shrink breast tissue apparently] and did a lot of weight lifting when he was a teenager in order to build up pectoral muscles, and the combo of those gave him a very masculine presenting chest. He only got the double mastectomy after his mother died from breast cancer, mostly out of fear that he'd develope it as well [he will literally never tell anyone this].

Keegan and Neptune often catch them self looking out for David the same way Gabriel looked out for them

🐺

Trans Neptune truthers, join me, we will conquer the world! ...Or maybe just the fandom. That's more manageable.

I like to think there was zero warning sign before he keeled over so one second Elias is babbling in his ear about supplies and the next Rorke is half collapsed on the floor convincing Elias for a good moment that he just bored his Captain to death.

Merrick simply assumed he got into a weirdly targeted knife fight until Rorke explained.

NOT THE TRANSMISSION

Mf just immediately adopts them. They had no chance.

I gotta see what this mf's house looks like, I always figured it was on the smaller side because I think of him as the practical type but it'd be real funny if it turned out he lived in a big ass house in the suburbs rather than the cabin in the woods. Has a wild lawn rather than the mono-green-dead bullshit tho. (DEATH to plain ass lawns with zero biodiversity.)

He's a HEN! Broody. Hah.

Aw, every time I make fun of him for being bald one of you come in and give me a reason to feel bad about it. Alright Rorke. You get away with it in this scenario.

Oooooo, a secret to take to the grave. Interesting.

Don't let Rorke find out Hesh is trans he might swap Logan for him seeing as he was so quick to grab Neptune+Keegan up

#call of duty #call of duty ghosts #gabriel rorke #elias walker #keegan p russ #neptune (cod: g)#hesh walker #logan walker #beloved anon #🐺 anon

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saika077 · 11 months

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The Dorm Leaders as Jojo fans

AN: this is just some silly goofy hc that caters to me specifically.

Riddle Rosehearts

Phantom Blood enjoyer

Started as a manga reader and is rightfully horrified at Dio's actions (if you know you know).

Giorno is his favorite Jojo.

Joseph's wittiness and Caesar's hotheaded personality reminds him a lot of Ace and Deuce.

Was devastated at S1 Ep 19 where they have that breakup arc and in the next episode where...yeah...

Trey can hear his cry of anguish from down the hall.

He does not tolerate part skipper in a "How can you just skip the basic fundamentals of the story?? Blah blah blah" type a way.

Jonathan defender. Doesn't take kindly to people who call Jonathan boring or "Phantom Blood mid".

I'd say that his favorite OP is probably Traitor's Requiem

Doesn't really have time to get caught up so he recently just finished Golden Wind.

Leona Kingscholar

A basic Stardust Crusaders fan

I'm sorry, but he looks like he'd be a part skipper 😭 (I'm still gonna give him the benefit of the doubt)

He's not gonna skip Stone Ocean tho, that's for sure.

Jotaro and Jolyne are his favorite Jojos

I feel like he'd be a Jolyne kinnie due to the fact that they both have parental issues

Doesn't take kindly to people who slander Jolyne

If he doesn't skip parts, I'd say that Kars is his favorite Jojo villain.

Doesn't admit it but he was pretty devastated at the "My name is Emporio" scene and cried silently.

I can see him having Sono Chi no Kioku as his favorite OP or maybe he's a rare Chase enjoyer (Chase is actually a great OP, people are just mean :(( )

Is currently halfway through Steel Ball Run

Y'know he actually shares the same VA as Weather Report in the anime.

Azul Ashengrotto

Heard about it from Idia in the Board Game club when he was making a funny quip about having the upper hand but he didn't get the joke and Idia's like "uh, it's a Jojo reference, dude" and everyone else in the club got the reference.

Rare Jojolion enjoyer

Jodio is actually his favorite Jojo

His favorite character is Kishibe Rohan (no, I will not elaborate).

His favorite villain is Yoshikage Kira

I can see him being a Fighting Gold enjoyer

Jojo poses in private and the twins caught him doing it one day.

Kalim Al-Asim

Makes Jamil sit down and watch with him.

His favorite part is either Battle Tendency or Diamond is Unbreakable

Josuke is his favorite Jojo

Likes Joseph too, but he cheated on Suzie Q so that takes away some of the points. But at the same time Joseph cheating gives us Josuke, and he really likes Josuke so...yeah

Cried like a bitch during S1 Ep 20 (same)

I don't see him actually liking any of the villains but if he had to pick a favorite I'd say he'd pick Diavolo

When the ED of Golden Wind came on, Jamil covered Kalim's ears so fast. Toniiiiight~ I need your boooody~

Likes Great Days

Bonus: Jamil is a Golden Wind fan, his favorite character is Pannacotta Fugo and he actually reads Purple Haze Feedback (and cried).

Vil Shoenheit

Stone Ocean enjoyer, both the part and the OP

He also really likes the aesthetics of Golden Wind

Jolyne defender #2

Doesn't trust people who don't like Jolyne and sees it as an immediate red flag (same).

Pucci is his favorite villain.

I'd say his favorite character is Lisa Lisa. I feel like he's either aspiring to be like her or "god she is so me fr"

Trish kinnie (idk, to me specifically he kinda reminds me of her)

He reads the manga but hasn't had the time to get caught up.

He needs to know why or how Araki never ages in any of the pictures of him.

Idia Shroud

Manga reader and is caught up to the recent chapters

His favorite part is Steel Ball Run

Johnny kinnie

Doesn't tolerate part skipper but in an elitist gatekeepy type of way

Sings Sono Chi no Sadame on top of his lungs in his room.

Would never admit it but he had the cringy "Ora Ora Muda Muda Kono Dio da!" Phase (it's a Canon event almost every Jojo fan has to go through).

The kind of Jojo fan I do not want to interact with. Ever. (Mf is canonically insufferable to talk to irl)

Idk he just gives me the annoying SBR fan vibes.

He actually shares the same VA as Baoh in Jojo ASBR

Malleus Draconia

Phantom Blood Enthusiast

Finishes Phantom Blood and was like that clip of Clone High Gandhi where he's just like "wow...I- I need a minute to think about this..." And doesn't touch the series for a while. I don't think he knows that there are more parts.

I feel like the only Jojo media he watched is the old Phantom Blood OVA that is now considered a lost media.

Lilia finds him sulking in his room and when he asks him what's wrong, he just replies "Jonathan and Erina deserves happiness" and doesn't say any more than that.

Number one JonaEri shipper. If JonaEri has a million fans, he is one of them. If JonaEri has one fan, he is the one. If JonaEri has zero fans, he's already dead.

Enjoys Dio as a villain.

Loves the old OVAs

Feel free to add more or if you'd like to disagree, I'm open for discussion.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland hcs #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst hcs #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia

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eldritchships · 10 months

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Olesborn

Olesborn is a custom F/O I was gifted in 2019, by a user who remade and now is no longer active. As such, the original posts with his information are deleted, although I still keep Olesborn as an F/O. Here is the original information, scavenged from old screenshots and reposted verbatim. (Disclaimer: If the aforementioned user ever returns, I will gladly take this post down if requested).

Name: Olesborn (pronounced All-es-born)

Age: Alien ages are weird and it's hard to pinpoint exactly the year but he's most definitely a matured adult, perhaps even middle aged to some.

Appearance: A tall, refined, bright red alien with two sets of narrow yellow eyes. His hair/tentacles on his head always look slicked back to make him look more...noble? I guess? A couple rows of teeth. VERY defined cheekbones if that's what you can even call them. They look like they could CUT. His other sets of teeth are retractable and come out when he's threatened (or just scared lmao). He wears a cape and the mf collar is POPPIN. Wears a black vest over a button up and his dark red boots, made of scaly creatures from another planet, have got HEELS.

Occupation: A conqueror in the Sennox empire. He's basically the one that rolls up like "Your planet and resources look pretty good. It would be a shame if someone were to........completely take over and use your resources for our cause without much care for the people."

Interests: Talk shows, the finer things in life, clean sheets!!! And wandering around admiring his work. He likes to walk around and take jabs at his prisoners just because he's feeling arrogant.

Info about him: Olesborn was born on a very insignificant planet with insignificant farmers that did only just enough to sustain the population on their cold little blip in space. A lord of the Sennox empire stopped to demand food and noticed the boy, and immediately took a liking to his curiousity about what the Empire was all about.

The lord, convinced he would be useful, gave his parents an ultimatum. Give me this boy and I will spare the planet. There were no qualms from Oles' parents, much to his horror. He knew he wasn't the most useful to those on the planet, because he often got sick from the climate, and he pled that he could do better from now on. One less mouth to feed, the colony agreed. His fascination with the Sennox empire faded immediately and he tried to fight. He was taken without much effort despite his protests, and he was enlisted as the low of the low in the military. He then rose in the ranks through devoted work, and became a high ranking commander with his own fleet of ships, which now raze colonies for all they can give. He is saving his home planet for last.

Olesborn is arrogant in every way of saying it. He gets bored if a hero tries to talk to him and he just has them shot mid-monologue because he is so tired of them TALKING. He speaks in a very formal tone and uses big words to seem more intelligent. For the most part his subordinates think he's really smart, but officers his rank or higher think he's just pretentious. He gets really giddy after a battle he wins, so don't be surprised if he bursts in to swing you around and dance with you while he hums his own little victory tune.

HE HAS TRIPPED ON HIS OWN CAPE MULTIPLE TIMES IN FRONT OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE. One soldier laughed and he had them executed with their own gun before pretending it never happened.

He's a stupid, affectionate man and would love to have you sit by his side while he holds you. If you pet his "hair" the little tentacles curl around your fingers because he's enjoying it. He purrs when he's being tended to affectionately, and will return the favour 10-fold.

HE LOVES [ELIJAH] A LOT AND WISHES FOR [ELIJAH] TO RULE THE EMPIRE WITH HIM SOMEDAY WHEN HE WORKS HIS WAY UP FURTHER

Misc:

His marriage ritual would be something similar to the one in Mass Effect where they partake in the bonding of the minds??? But instead of just becoming one for a short span of time, whenever your partner is in pain, you also feel phantom pains because of how closely you're bonded. It's really special!!! And probably comes from the same planet where he got his boots (Elvaron)

Sometimes Olesborn wears two sleeping masks for his two sets of eyes for bedtime. But he'll take them off if his partner's there, because he wants to be able to see them when he tries to sleep

He tries very hard to look smart and sophisticated, but toast popping out of the toaster would scare him so bad that all three rows of his teeth would come to the forefront out of momentary fear.

The man has this big glass dome in his throne room that has a door he can open. When it opens you can see out into space. He'll let his partner sit in his lap on his throne while he tells them about his plans, while the both of them look out at the beauty of space through the dome's roof.

He cannot cook.

#Starry Nights #I'm glad to have all this info somewhere easily accessible now! It was mostly in the mind bank

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stellaferous · 2 years

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gonna talk a little bit about the new sync pairs for anni (btw i didn't check grids yet) and trainer lodge stuff

1. Ash looks way too powerful to skip + he's not a favourite but i do like him so ill probably go for him first

2. Red looks powerful as well though the TMs that instantly buff a stat to 6 stat ranks are boring now ngl, the max countdown thing is cool and he clearly pairs well with Ash (and any other electric type) thanks to Electric Terrain and the ability to extend it, i gotta pull him too -- however his outfit is kinda mid to me and that EX is even worse

3. not a big fan of Cynthia's outfit but i like her hair, and i don't think its fair that she's 1. getting a 2nd master fair, 2. getting her 3rd sygna suit and 3. has lucario instead of something like spiritomb:

she's the first trainer to have a 2nd MF and to get a 2nd and 3rd sygna suit, and im not a fan of how she seems to be all about "aura" and "spirit" when Riley is right there who is actually capable of manipulating aura and is literally known for having a Lucario -- and i don't like how this sets a precedent that characters can have 2 MFs and 2+ Sygna Suits, thus sucking out any meaning from both these titles which were originally (and presumably) rare and "special".

going to her kit, im glad that Fighting Zone is finally in the game and i'm tempted to pull her just for that (assuming my luck is good enough) even though she can only set it when she enters battle and after sync, meaning that fighting types can't benefit from it unless theres sync move countdown acceleration; idk im still on the fence on pulling her, we'll see depending on my gem count and my mood lmao

onto the trainer lodge trainers, they also have new sync pairs but i didn't check all of them yet so i won't comment on it, however when i was in the tutorial yesterday i noticed that you don't actually have a conversation with the trainers and instead you just click a button, they have a reaction and then repeat, which is honestly disappointing to me because i thought we'd be able to build friendships with them by us saying something and them replying back with actual words :( i haven't gotten far tho but i hope we get to actually talk with them soon

ALSO ROSA GOT A NEW ALT LETS GOOO ❗❗❗ seems like she got Shaymin simply because she's like the tour guide or something for Pasio... i forgot lmao, i know the Marley (and maybe Mallow) fans are fuming rn and im ngl i understand why

#pokemon #pokemas #ash ketchum #pikachu #cynthia #pokemon red #pokemon cynthia #sync pair

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homoose · 3 years

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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part II (x reader)

Summary: Spencer and reader spend a lot of time together. And then he spends some time away.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: typical CM violence, Spencer gets hurt but there’s no graphic descriptions

Word count: 5k

a/n: This chapter is a little bit of a different style, because it had a lot of ground to cover! So we’ve got a few different vignettes of their first few months together— first dates and sleepovers and Spencer’s first long case away. I also worked some requests into this chapter.

———

Y/N stretched out across the bed, humming and burying her face into the pillow. She sighed and then drew in a deep breath. Her eyes blinked open as she recognized the new scent on her sheets— cedar and spice and a hint of floral.

She moved her hand across the bed to find the sheets were cool, then raised her head to see the room was empty. The apartment was quiet, but the aroma of freshly brewed coffee crept in through the bedroom door left slightly ajar. She ran a hand over her face and reached for her phone on the bedside table, tapped the screen to check the time and saw a missed text from Anita.

Anita: How did it go???????

Y/N: Good! We talked a lot. And he spent the night.

Anita: W H A T

Anita: 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Y/N: Calm down. It was just a sleepover. Emphasis on the sleep.

Anita: Sure it was 👀

Anita: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Anita: 🍆🍑🍒💦

Y/N: I’m going to mute this thread.

Anita: You’re such a prude!!!!!!!

Anita: But also

Anita: This mf is still on THIN ICE with me

Anita: So tell him to sleep with one eye open

Y/N swiped the message thread to mute the notifications and sat up to drop her legs over the side of the bed. She stood and did a cursory once over in the mirror above her dresser, retrieving the sweater hanging on her closet door and slipping into it. Then she padded to the doorway, pushing the door open and quietly moving into the living room.

Spencer was on the couch, still in her shirt, with a book in one hand and her favorite coffee mug in the other. Roald was curled up in his lap, fast asleep. Spencer turned the page of his book, then brought the mug up to his lips. The simple domesticity had her chest tightening, and she let out a small, contented sigh.

Spencer lifted his head at the sound, a smile stretching across his face as soon as he saw her. “Morning.”

“Morning.” She shuffled toward the couch, and he closed his book. She peered over the couch and gestured to Roald. “I see you’ve got a friend.”

“Indeed. I kind of feel like I can’t leave now.” He looked up with a small crease in his brow. “I made coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” she assured with a smile. “Nice mug.”

“I didn’t want to wake you up, but I didn’t want to go through your cabinets,” he explained, looking a little nervous. “This one was on the dish rack, so I figured it was okay to use, but I can—”

“Spencer.” She leaned against the couch and smoothed a hand over his hair, meeting his eyes and smiling gently. “Is there more coffee?”

He nodded and looked down at the cat on his lap. “Yeah, I— I’d get up, but I don’t want to disturb him.”

Y/N laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his hair before retreating to the kitchen. “Oh, of course. We wouldn’t want to disrupt the king.”

…

They spent the morning on the couch, reading quietly and sipping their coffee and trading the occasional smile. She tucked her sock covered toes underneath his thigh as the sunlight crept across the floor. He brought his hand to rest on her knee and turned to the last chapter of his book, and she wondered if he was consciously slowing himself down so that she could attempt to keep up.

Eventually, Roald yawned and stretched across Spencer’s lap, standing and hopping down off the couch in search of food. Spencer ran his hand down Y/N’s leg and circled his fingers around her ankle, rubbing his thumb lightly across the skin. She looked up from her book with a soft smile, wiggling her toes under his thigh.

She closed her book and sat up a little closer to him on the couch. “So. I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” he teased.

“Ha, ha.” She rolled her eyes, and then her gaze shifted back to him and she chewed a little at the inside of her lip.

No matter how hard she tried to quell it, the idea continued to nag at her subconscious— that even though he’d poured his heart out to her, even though he’d said that he loved her… that somehow she was still building him up in her head, seeing things that weren’t there, and making this into something it wasn’t. She was well aware that getting too comfortable too quickly was a surefire way to scare people off.

“Our tea dates weren’t really dates,” she hedged. “So we haven’t really had a first date.”

He gave her ankle a quick squeeze. “No, I suppose we haven’t.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to think I’m in the habit of inviting men that I’m not dating to spend the night.”

He set his book on the coffee table. “Of course.”

“So, um.” She tilted her head and drew her brows together. She needed to hear it, directly from his perspective. “Are we— do you consider us to be, um.” She closed her eyes. “Are we dating?”

She felt him lean toward her on the couch, felt his warm palm cupping her cheek and his thumb stroking across her skin. She opened her eyes slowly to see him looking at her with a tentative smile. “I hope so,” he breathed.

She barely stopped herself from letting out a relieved sigh, slightly embarrassed to have needed the reassurance. He didn’t seem to notice, instead closing the rest of the distance between them to press a soft kiss to her mouth. Their noses bumped together awkwardly, drawing a laugh from them both.

He withdrew from her mouth, pressed a kiss to her bumped nose, and then sat back a little, considering. “If you’re free today, we could knock ‘first date’ off the checklist.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You have a checklist?”

“Well, a metaphorical one,” he clarified quickly. “I’m not, like, keeping track in a journal or anything.”

She laughed, bright and loud and almost carefree, and then swung her legs over the side of the couch. “What did you have in mind, doctor?”

…

Spencer Reid’s idea of a perfect first date was the Smithsonian National Postal Museum, and it was just about the most Spencer thing Y/N had ever heard.

“I should have put two and two together with the no technology thing,” she surmised.

“I know letters have sort of gone out of fashion with the advent of phones and email, but— letter writing is an art form!” he defended, waving his hands. “And think about how incredible it feels to get something in the mail. You don’t get that same rush with a text message.”

She thought back to receiving a perfectly wrapped package with his handwriting scrawled across the brown paper. “Mm, you do have a point there,” she conceded.

He led her through the exhibits, explaining the various displays with more facts than the placards themselves could ever contain. She watched with a smile as he gestured wildly about with his hands, his eyes wide with the joy of sharing the information— of sharing it with her. She nodded, and mmhmmed, and asked the occasional question. But she was mostly just so unbelievably content to listen to him talk about anything and everything.

He stopped mid-sentence in the Serving the Cities exhibit, dropping his hands and looking at her sheepishly. “Sorry, I— I’m boring you.”

She drew her brows together in genuine confusion. “What? No, you’re not. I’d never heard of the, um— new— no. The— new tubes?”

“New York City's pneumatic tube system,” he offered.

She smiled gratefully. “Yes, the pneumatic tube system. Underground mail tubes moving at 35 miles per hour? That’s kind of amazing.” She shook her head. “Why don’t they use it anymore?”

“The Post Office Department suspended the service to conserve funding during World War I,” he explained automatically. “They restored partial service in 1922, but it eventually just became too costly to continue.” He seemed to catch himself, shaking his head and continuing, “But I— I’m sure it’s all here in the exhibits, I should just let you—”

She grabbed his hand, and he closed his mouth to stifle the rest of his rambling. She used her free hand to gesture around at the displays. “There’s a lot of information here, but to be honest, I— I haven’t really been looking at the placards.” She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as he stared at her. “I, um— I’d much rather hear it from you.”

She watched his eyes alight with surprise and wonder, and she wanted to personally fight anyone who had ever made him believe that he was boring. He took a step closer, eyes flicking down to her mouth, and her lips twitched up into a smile. He leaned down to meet her halfway in a sweet kiss, mostly just upturned mouths and huffed breaths.

He lingered slightly as he pulled away, still studying her with a little bit of shock. She intertwined their fingers, pressed their shoulders together, and nodded toward the next display. “So, what else can you tell me about the history of the mail system, Dr. Reid?”

The pair of them continued through the museum, their fingers threaded together and Spencer murmuring facts into her ear. They spent three hours walking through the exhibits, pausing here and there to gaze quietly at the details of a particularly interesting display. When they finally completed their circuit, Y/N insisted on visiting the museum gift shop.

There were postage stamp tote bags, mail carrier t-shirts, mailbox ornaments and more— all incredibly overpriced and generally ridiculous and not of interest to either of them. But the stationery display caught her eye— sets of parchment with embossed letterheads, fancy letter openers, and wax stamp kits. She ran her finger over the raised design on one particularly intricate stationery set, and Spencer peered over her shoulder.

“I’ve always enjoyed letter writing. Partly because I tend toward the arcane, but also because it feels… intentional and personal,” he explained. “It takes time, and energy, and care.”

“It’s a very deliberate and lovely way of showing that you care about someone,” she agreed.

“Mhm,” he hummed, smiling softly. “I still write a lot of letters to my mom. When she was still in Vegas and I didn’t see her very often, I wrote the letters because she didn’t always recognize my voice over the phone.”

He drew his brows together and ran his fingers along the top of the stationary display. “Now I write them so that she can have a— a sort of record of my life, I guess. So that hopefully when the memories aren’t there anymore, she can still read them and feel like she’s a part of the story.”

Y/N reached for his hand again, and he accepted it with a bittersweet smile. “We did the same thing for my grandma,” she told him, returning his melancholic smile. “Lots of letters and photos. I never thought of it that way, but it was sort of like keeping her in our stories.”

She turned back to the display and picked up the package of stationery, turning it over in her hands. He gently plucked it from her grip, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “I think you need some nice paper for the next few chapters.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” she started.

He cut her off with a press of his lips. She grasped a little at his waist as he kissed her and wondered if she would ever get used to kissing Spencer Reid. When he finally pulled back, she had to catch her breath.

“I’ll take half,” he murmured. “I was hoping I could, um— help you write them.”

She squeezed his waist gently, heard the chains of insecurity clinking and breaking as he chiseled away at them piece by piece. “I’d like that.”

…

Two weeks later, Y/N convinced him to try painting— specifically, Paint & Sip Night at the art studio around the corner from her apartment.

“I’m going to be terrible at this,” he warned her, looking over his shoulder at where she was tying the strings of his smock.

She tugged the strings around his waist to gently pull him back toward her, leaned up on her tiptoes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She knotted the strings tight and barely restrained herself from sneaking a little squeeze of his bum— although she did not stop herself from looking.

“It’s not about being good at it. It’s about having fun.” She used her hands on his waist to turn him around. “And if you’re not having fun, then we can go home,” she shrugged.

He smoothed a wrinkle from her smock. “I always have fun with you.” He smiled and scrunched his nose at her, and she returned the nose scrunch with a laugh.

“All right, everyone!” The instructor clapped her hands together. “Are you ready to paint a masterpiece?”

Forty five minutes later, Spencer peered over at her canvas and huffed out a breath. “God, look at that texture. How are you actually good at this?”

Y/N turned and looked at his painting. “Yours looks good, too,” she insisted.

“Michael could— and has, actually— done better than this,” he scoffed.

“Well, I like it.” She tilted her head. “It’s giving me... Monet vibes. It’ll look perfect in my living room.”

“You are not hanging this in your living room,” he laughed.

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” she teased, turning back to her work to follow the next instruction.

She watched him as they worked— his tongue slipping out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, his fingertips tapping across his thighs in consideration, his huffed breaths here and there when a stroke didn’t look the way he wanted it to. She finished a little bit before him, adding her tiny signature to the bottom of her canvas before standing to move to his side. She slid a gentle hand around his waist and looked over his shoulder at his work.

He sighed and gestured to the corner of his canvas. “This whole section looks… weird.”

She studied it for a moment. “I think maybe it’s just because it’s sort of one note?” She pointed to the rest of the painting. “Like, you played with layering the colors everywhere else. Here it’s just the blue. You could add some purple maybe? Or green,” she mused.

“Yeah, I guess I can try that.” He shrugged and leaned over to the paints, gathering some purple on his brush.

She moved out of his way but rested her chin lightly on his shoulder as he worked. He moved the brush meticulously in small strokes, layering and creating dimension in the corner of the piece. When he finally set the brush down, he leaned his head to rest on top of hers.

“Okay. So it looks much more…” he trailed off.

“Cohesive,” she offered.

She could feel his smile. “Yeah,” he agreed. He lifted his head to look at her. “Seriously, how are you so good at this?”

She moved her chin from his shoulder and gave a nonchalant shrug. “I guess my many years of finger painting experience had to pay off someday.” She nodded to his finished painting. “I don’t know what your going rate is, but I have to have this.”

He swiveled on the stool to capture her hands in his, lacing their fingers together and pulling her in between his legs. “It’s yours.”

She feigned shock. “For free?”

“I didn’t say that,” he corrected with a sly smile. He dropped her hands to bring his own to her hips, pulling her in closer. “But it’s sort of an on-going payment deal. I’m asking at least 30 kisses per month.”

She pressed her lips together to avoid breaking out into an absurd grin. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Take it or leave it. That’s my final offer,” he shrugged.

She pretended to mull it over, lips pursed and eyes on the ceiling. He huffed out a laugh, and she cracked a smile, bringing her fingers up to tangle in his curls. “Deal.”

…

Y/N: I don’t even know if your phone is capable of receiving pictures, but look what I hung today!

Spencer: It receives pictures! I wish I hadn’t received this one though. I cannot believe you actually hung that horrific thing on your wall.

Y/N: I’m going to commission you for a piece for the kitchen ;)

Spencer: You’re hilarious.

Y/N: You love it.

Spencer: I do.

Spencer: I wanted to tell you... I have my first therapy appointment tomorrow afternoon.

Y/N: Spence!!!

Y/N: I am so proud of you. It’s going to change your life.

Spencer: You’ve already done that, Miss Honey.

…

Y/N: How did it go?

Spencer: I cried? A lot.

Y/N: That happens to me, too! Good therapy will do that. Other than the crying, how do you feel?

Spencer: I feel… amazing. Lighter, I think? I’m actually kind of bummed that I have to wait two weeks to do it again.

Y/N: I know I said it already, but I’m so incredibly proud of you.

Spencer: I quite literally would not have done it without you.

Y/N: Happy to give you a little nudge whenever you need it, doctor. <3

...

The BAU’s caseload had been uncharacteristically slow, and the two of them took advantage of every moment. On one particularly gloomy Saturday afternoon, they were sprawled across Spencer’s couch and sipping on their umpteenth cups of coffee. He scribbled notes in the margins of his students’ latest essays, while she typed out her lesson plans for the upcoming week.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him set down his pen. He stifled a sigh and she held back a smile as she typed out a short vowel word chain. She could feel his eyes on her, could practically smell the smoke coming from his overworked brain.

When he didn’t break the silence, she looked up over the top of her laptop. “Can I help you?” she teased.

His cheeks colored with a very pretty flush— the same one she’d pulled from him in the carpool loop all those months ago. “Two of my students just… aren’t getting it.” He gestured to the papers in front of him. “I’ve tried extra office hours, extended time for work completion, and it just— doesn’t seem to be helping.” He looked at her with pursed lips. “I was, um— I was wondering if you had any ideas? That I could try.”

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “You— you’re asking me for help?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “You’re the best teacher I know.”

Now it was her turn to blush. “Oh. Well, um…” She set her laptop on the coffee table and sat up, considering. “Have you tried differentiating your lectures?” At his raised eyebrow, she continued, “Like— having a PowerPoint or a recorded version that they can revisit? You’re kind of a fast talker, so it’s possible that they’re struggling to retain the information because they can’t keep up with your delivery.”

“Huh.” He tilted his head with a furrowed brow. “I... didn’t consider that my oratory speed could have an impact on student achievement. But of course— that makes total sense.” He gave her a sheepish smile and his best puppy dog eyes. “So… how much coffee do you think you’d require to, um— help me make a PowerPoint?”

She sighed dramatically but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “At least another two cups. And one of those peanut butter sandwich cookies from Soho.”

He set the papers aside and leaned over to plant a kiss on her upturned mouth. “I’ll buy you a dozen.”

…

In late May, their luck ran out.

First there was a case in Arizona— brutal and ritualistic murders scattered through the desert with almost no cooling off period. On the eighth day that he was in Phoenix, Y/N’s phone rang on the bedside table. She reached across to pick it up, smiling at his name on the screen.

“Hey,” she answered, moving her computer off her lap and getting comfortable.

“Hi,” Spencer murmured.

“How’s the case going?”

“It’s, um— it’s going okay, actually,” he assessed. “We’ve made a lot of headway in the last twelve hours, and I think we might be narrowing in.”

“That’s great.” She stifled a yawn behind her hand.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

His tone of voice had her sitting up a little straighter in bed. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he insisted, but his tone didn’t shift.

“You don’t sound fine,” she prompted.

“I just—” He blew out a breath, and she could almost hear him running his hand over his face. “I miss you. And maybe that’s weird, because we’ve only been together for seventy four days, but—”

“Spence,” she interrupted. He sighed, and she continued, “It’s not weird. I miss you, too.”

“Eight days isn’t even that long, but I just— I’ve never, um.” The line was quiet for long enough that she almost thought the call had dropped. And then his voice came back, softer than she’d ever heard it. “I’ve never had someone to miss.”

Her heart physically ached for all the time he’d spent without someone to miss— and without someone to miss him, and cherish him, and— well, love him. She still hadn’t said it back. She wanted to say it right then, but it felt wrong to say it for the first time over the phone. And there was still that nagging little fear— of his inevitable reconsideration and rejection— keeping her from pulling the metaphorical trigger.

“Well. I’m happy to fill that position,” she settled on— and hated how inadequate it sounded. She leaned back against the pillows, prepared to make him feel it even if she couldn’t say it. At the very least, she could help him take his mind off the monsters— if only for a few minutes. “Teach me something, doctor.”

He laughed a little through the phone, and she knew her plan was working already.

“Okay,” he started, and she could hear the muffled crinkle of the hotel duvet. “Um— did you know that the Sonoran Desert is the only place in the world where saguaro cacti grow?”

“Wow. No, I didn’t,” she smiled, ready to learn everything there was to know about the giant, prickly plants. “Why is that?”

“Experts believe there are two main factors that limit the cacti from expanding into the Mojave — temperature and rainfall. It’s also possible that...”

...

On his tenth day away, the letter showed up.

Y/N,

I’m writing from the balcony of the hotel room overlooking the desert— well, more so the parking lot of the desert— and I’m reminded of the duality of this landscape. The arid climate and rugged terrain can make it a mercilessly hostile place. Yet at the same time, this environment is one of the most enigmatic and enchanting, and it’s teeming with life if you look close enough.

This job can illuminate the cruelty and brutality of humanity, but it so often reminds me of the resilience and the goodness of people, too. The duality of the desert parallels the duality of man, I suppose.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been out here. I think you’d like it. I’ve thought of another poem that makes me think of you, and of the way that I finally feel like I can breathe.

With thee, in the Desert –

With thee in the thirst –

With thee in the Tamarind wood –

Leopard breathes – at last!

- Emily Dickinson

Love,

Spencer

…

They had barely deplaned after the culmination of the case in Arizona before they were called back out to Colorado, this time for six days. She barely heard from him at all, save for the occasional text, and even then, it was never more than ten words. She spent her waking hours worrying and dreamt the same terrifying dream every single night— being chased until her legs gave out, never sure of what she was running from and never able to slow down.

It was 2:27 in the morning when her phone rang, rousing her from her restless tossing and turning. His name on the caller ID had the worry jumping into her throat, but she answered as calmly as she could.

“Hi.” She yawned into her hand and let out a little sigh.

“Hi.” The tenor of his voice was quiet and weary. “I know it’s unbelievably late—”

She sat up and interrupted, “Are you okay?”

He was quiet for a moment, and her worry intensified. “I, um— I’m… I’m downstairs.”

She turned on the bedside lamp. “Like, right now?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed quietly. “I— I’m sorry. I should have called first before just— showing up at your door.”

She was already climbing out of bed. “No, no, honey, don’t be sorry. I’m coming to buzz you in.”

She shuffled through the dark apartment, fumbled for the intercom to press the buzzer. She could hear his feet on the stairs before she even made it to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling back the chain. As the door swung open, he was rounding the top of the stairs and turning the corner of the landing.

It took him five strides to cross the threshold, and then he was tumbling into her arms and burying his face in her shoulder. The impact knocked the breath out of her, but she recovered quickly, bringing her arms around him and holding him tight.

He didn’t speak, just breathed into her hair and clutched a little desperately at her back. She stroked a soothing hand over his curls and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “You’re safe, Spence. I’m right here.”

She shifted her weight slowly back and forth, rocking him gently and petting over his hair, steady and rhythmic. He burrowed his face into the crook of her neck and let out a shaky breath, and Y/N felt his tears on her skin. She brought both arms around his shoulders then, squeezing him tightly. “I’m right here, honey,” she repeated. “I’m right here.”

He cried quietly into her shoulder as she ran soothing hands over his back. She knew this was more than just missing her— it was the cruelty and brutality of man that he saw every day, the layers of hurt that would probably always be there. But she knew the resilience was there, too. And she was determined to always show him the other half of the chasm of humanity.

After a long while, he pulled back, still sniffling. Y/N reached out to grasp his face in both her hands, sweeping the tears from his cheeks with gentle thumbs. Her heart panged at the way his eyes were shining and ringed red, full of complete exhaustion and raging emotion.

“What do you need?” she asked. “Water, tea, a snack, a shower?”

He shook his head. “Just you,” he mumbled.

She felt the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “You’ve got me. Always.” She pressed one, two, three chaste kisses to his chapped lips. “Let’s get cleaned up and changed and into bed, hm?”

She had him wash his face and brush his teeth, and then she moved him to sit on the closed toilet lid. “Close your eyes,” she said softly.

He could barely keep them open as it was, and she didn’t even want to think about how little sleep he’d had over the last three weeks. She cupped his face in her hands for a long moment, rememorizing every curve and angle.

First, she swiped a cotton pad soaked with cucumber toner across the high planes of his cheekbones and along his nose. She allowed it to dry, and then dropped gentle kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his chin. Next, she took a dab of moisturizer on the tips of her fingers, rubbing in circular motions along the path her lips had traveled. Finally, she pressed a few drops of her favorite lavender and chamomile face oil onto his cheeks, soothing away the last, damp remnants of agony.

When he opened his eyes again, they were already a little clearer, a little calmer, a little lighter. He let out a long, slow breath and laced their fingers together. She squeezed his hands, and then pulled him up and into her side.

She led him into her bedroom, stripped him out of his cardigan and button-up and trousers, and helped him into the soft, oversized school fundraiser shirt that had become his. And then she took his hands in hers once again and pulled him toward the bed, getting him settled and tucked in on his side before coming around to shut off the bedside light. He whined at the loss of contact, and she shushed him gently as she climbed in next to him.

“C’mere.” She lifted the duvet, and he moved to lay his head on her chest, wrapping his arm around her middle and pulling her impossibly closer. She tucked the covers back around him, and then brought her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.

She stroked his hair quietly, listening to his breathing as it evened and slowed. He was asleep in minutes, snuffling gently into her chest. His grip loosened with every breath, and he settled more comfortably against her side with each exhale.

She let the tears she’d been holding back slip over her lash line and pressed a soft kiss into his hair. The faint snores vibrating from his chest muffled her quiet voice as she whispered the trio of words she couldn’t quite bring herself to say in the light of day.

———

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

346 notes · View notes

praxis23 · 2 years

Text

I posted 32 times in 2021

9 posts created (28%)

23 posts reblogged (72%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.6 posts.

I added 11 tags in 2021

#star wars - 2 posts

#mf doom - 1 posts

#tiananmen square - 1 posts

#arguement - 1 posts

#incel - 1 posts

#truth - 1 posts

#sleep - 1 posts

#cpap - 1 posts

#recall - 1 posts

#philips - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 16 characters

#tiananmen square

My Top Posts in 2021

I got my first Facebook warning today! (Surprised it took this long.) I advocated burning down oil companies who suppressed efforts to fight climate change.

4 notes • Posted 2021-05-10 17:32:38 GMT

Find yourself a nerd that enjoys both activities. https://www.oglaf.com/babes-abyss/

4 notes • Posted 2021-04-18 16:27:26 GMT

Man. Nothing sets Incels off like suggesting they are the reason they can’t get laid. You’ve got thin skin, a short temper, and love causing needless drama. I’m sure that has *nothing* to do with why nobody likes you, and you live alone.

15 notes • Posted 2021-09-25 00:37:46 GMT

Ever have someone's account just disappear mid-conversation? I was having a nice chat with a random stranger when tumblr just deleted the whole thing. Or they deleted their account? Idk what happened.

23 notes • Posted 2021-10-14 08:04:30 GMT

I’m finding the split in Lady D fan-art interesting. One side, which I think of as the “male gaze” side of things, is pretty simple as how they portray her: A big-titted, waifu goth. The proportions are usually off. She’s in outfits and/or situations that don’t fit the character. It’s mostly wank-fodder, and poorly done at that. Then there’s the other side of it. The LGBTQA+ side of things. They *get* that she’s a 10 ft tall, undead monster. She’s often a little bit sexualized, but not so much that she’s reduced to a plaything. They are also more likely to stick to the look and attitude of the character from the source material, and I find it refreshing. IDK, it feels like there’s a bit of a cultural fight over who gets to “keep” her. I’m rooting for the ladies on this one, as the waifu crowd tend to be so boring and simplistic in their fantasies. (I say this as cis-het male in his late 40′s.) Seriously boys, step up your game, or at least take some art classes.

174 notes • Posted 2021-05-23 17:30:48 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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homoose · 3 years

Text

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part II (x OC)

Summary: Spencer and reader spend a lot of time together. And then he spends some time away.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: typical CM violence, Spencer gets hurt but there’s no graphic descriptions

Word count: 5k

Series Masterlist

———

Maggie stretched out across the bed, humming and burying her face into the pillow. She sighed and then drew in a deep breath. Her eyes blinked open as she recognized the new scent on her sheets— cedar and spice and a hint of floral.

Anita: How did it go???????

Maggie: Good! We talked a lot. And he spent the night.

Anita: W H A T

Anita: 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Anita: MAGGIE MAE BROOKS

Maggie: Calm down. It was just a sleepover. Emphasis on the sleep.

Anita: Sure it was 👀

Anita: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Anita: 🍆🍑🍒💦

Maggie: I’m going to mute this thread.

Anita: You’re such a prude!!!!!!!

Anita: But also

Anita: This mf is still on THIN ICE with me

Anita: So tell him to sleep with one eye open

Maggie swiped the message thread to mute the notifications and sat up to drop her legs over the side of the bed. She stood and did a cursory once over in the mirror above her dresser, retrieving the sweater hanging on her closet door and slipping into it. Then she padded to the doorway, pushing the door open and quietly moving into the living room.

Spencer lifted his head at the sound, a smile stretching across his face as soon as he saw her. “Morning.”

“Morning.” She shuffled toward the couch, and he closed his book. She peered over the couch and gestured to Roald. “I see you’ve got a friend.”

“Indeed. I kind of feel like I can’t leave now.” He looked up with a small crease in his brow. “I made coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” she assured with a smile. “Nice mug.”

“Spencer.” She leaned against the couch and smoothed a hand over his hair, meeting his eyes and smiling gently. “Is there more coffee?”

He nodded and looked down at the cat on his lap. “Yeah, I— I’d get up, but I don’t want to disturb him.”

Maggie laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his hair before retreating to the kitchen. “Oh, of course. We wouldn’t want to disrupt the king.”

…

Eventually, Roald yawned and stretched across Spencer’s lap, standing and hopping down off the couch in search of food. Spencer ran his hand down Maggie’s leg and circled his fingers around her ankle, rubbing his thumb lightly across the skin. She looked up from her book with a soft smile, wiggling her toes under his thigh.

She closed her book and sat up a little closer to him on the couch. “So. I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” he teased.

“Ha, ha.” She rolled her eyes, and then her gaze shifted back to him and she chewed a little at the inside of her lip.

“Our tea dates weren’t really dates,” she hedged. “So we haven’t really had a first date.”

He gave her ankle a quick squeeze. “No, I suppose we haven’t.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to think I’m in the habit of inviting men that I’m not dating to spend the night.”

He set his book on the coffee table. “Of course.”

He withdrew from her mouth, pressed a kiss to her bumped nose, and then sat back a little, considering. “If you’re free today, we could knock ‘first date’ off the checklist.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You have a checklist?”

“Well, a metaphorical one,” he clarified quickly. “I’m not, like, keeping track in a journal or anything.”

She laughed, bright and loud and almost carefree, and then swung her legs over the side of the couch. “What did you have in mind, doctor?”

…

Spencer Reid’s idea of a perfect first date was the Smithsonian National Postal Museum, and it was just about the most Spencer thing Maggie had ever heard.

“I should have put two and two together with the no technology thing,” she surmised.

She thought back to receiving a perfectly wrapped package with his handwriting scrawled across the brown paper. “Mm, you do have a point there,” she conceded.

He stopped mid-sentence in the Serving the Cities exhibit, dropping his hands and looking at her sheepishly. “Sorry, I— I’m boring you.”

She drew her brows together in genuine confusion. “What? No, you’re not. I’d never heard of the, um— new— no. The— new tubes?”

“New York City's pneumatic tube system,” he offered.

She smiled gratefully. “Yes, the pneumatic tube system. Underground mail tubes moving at 35 miles per hour? That’s kind of amazing.” She shook her head. “Why don’t they use it anymore?”

“I’ve always enjoyed letter writing. Partly because I tend toward the arcane, but also because it feels… intentional and personal,” he explained. “It takes time, and energy, and care.”

“It’s a very deliberate and lovely way of showing that you care about someone,” she agreed.

Maggie reached for his hand again, and he accepted it with a bittersweet smile. “We did the same thing for my grandma,” she told him, returning his melancholic smile. “Lots of letters and photos. I never thought of it that way, but it was sort of like keeping her in our stories.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” she started.

“I’ll take half,” he murmured. “I was hoping I could, um— help you write them.”

She squeezed his waist gently, heard the chains of insecurity clinking and breaking as he chiseled away at them piece by piece. “I’d like that.”

…

Two weeks later, Maggie convinced him to try painting— specifically, Paint & Sip Night at the art studio around the corner from her apartment.

“I’m going to be terrible at this,” he warned her, looking over his shoulder at where she was tying the strings of his smock.

“It’s not about being good at it. It’s about having fun.” She used her hands on his waist to turn him around. “And if you’re not having fun, then we can go home,” she shrugged.

He smoothed a wrinkle from her smock. “I always have fun with you.” He smiled and scrunched his nose at her, and she returned the nose scrunch with a laugh.

“All right, everyone!” The instructor clapped her hands together. “Are you ready to paint a masterpiece?”

Forty five minutes later, Spencer peered over at her canvas and huffed out a breath. “God, look at that texture. How are you actually good at this?”

Maggie turned and looked at his painting. “Yours looks good, too,” she insisted.

“Michael could— and has, actually— done better than this,” he scoffed.

“Well, I like it.” She tilted her head. “It’s giving me... Monet vibes. It’ll look perfect in my living room.”

“You are not hanging this in your living room,” he laughed.

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” she teased, turning back to her work to follow the next instruction.

He sighed and gestured to the corner of his canvas. “This whole section looks… weird.”

“Yeah, I guess I can try that.” He shrugged and leaned over to the paints, gathering some purple on his brush.

“Okay. So it looks much more…” he trailed off.

“Cohesive,” she offered.

She could feel his smile. “Yeah,” he agreed. He lifted his head to look at her. “Seriously, how are you so good at this?”

He swiveled on the stool to capture her hands in his, lacing their fingers together and pulling her in between his legs. “It’s yours.”

She feigned shock. “For free?”

She pressed her lips together to avoid breaking out into an absurd grin. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Take it or leave it. That’s my final offer,” he shrugged.

She pretended to mull it over, lips pursed and eyes on the ceiling. He huffed out a laugh, and she cracked a smile, bringing her fingers up to tangle in his curls. “Deal.”

…

Maggie: I don’t even know if your phone is capable of receiving pictures, but look what I hung today!

Spencer: It receives pictures! I wish I hadn’t received this one though. I cannot believe you actually hung that horrific thing on your wall.

Maggie: I’m going to commission you for a piece for the kitchen ;)

Spencer: You’re hilarious.

Maggie: You love it.

Spencer: I do.

Spencer: I wanted to tell you... I have my first therapy appointment tomorrow afternoon.

Maggie: Spence!!!

Maggie: I am so proud of you. It’s going to change your life.

Spencer: You’ve already done that, Miss Honey.

…

Maggie: How did it go?

Spencer: I cried? A lot.

Maggie: That happens to me, too! Good therapy will do that. Other than the crying, how do you feel?

Spencer: I feel… amazing. Lighter, I think? I’m actually kind of bummed that I have to wait two weeks to do it again.

Maggie: I know I said it already, but I’m so incredibly proud of you.

Spencer: I quite literally would not have done it without you.

Maggie: Happy to give you a little nudge whenever you need it, doctor. <3

...

When he didn’t break the silence, she looked up over the top of her laptop. “Can I help you?” she teased.

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “You— you’re asking me for help?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “You’re the best teacher I know.”

She sighed dramatically but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “At least another two cups. And one of those peanut butter sandwich cookies from Soho.”

He set the papers aside and leaned over to plant a kiss on her upturned mouth. “I’ll buy you a dozen.”

…

In late May, their luck ran out.

First there was a case in Arizona— brutal and ritualistic murders scattered through the desert with almost no cooling off period. On the eighth day that he was in Phoenix, Maggie’s phone rang on the bedside table. She reached across to pick it up, smiling at his name on the screen.

“Hey,” she answered, moving her computer off her lap and getting comfortable.

“Hi,” Spencer murmured.

“How’s the case going?”

“It’s, um— it’s going okay, actually,” he assessed. “We’ve made a lot of headway in the last twelve hours, and I think we might be narrowing in.”

“That’s great.” She stifled a yawn behind her hand.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

His tone of voice had her sitting up a little straighter in bed. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he insisted, but his tone didn’t shift.

“You don’t sound fine,” she prompted.

“Spence,” she interrupted. He sighed, and she continued, “It’s not weird. I miss you, too.”

He laughed a little through the phone, and she knew her plan was working already.

“Okay,” he started, and she could hear the muffled crinkle of the hotel duvet. “Um— did you know that the Sonoran Desert is the only place in the world where saguaro cacti grow?”

“Wow. No, I didn’t,” she smiled, ready to learn everything there was to know about the giant, prickly plants. “Why is that?”

“Experts believe there are two main factors that limit the cacti from expanding into the Mojave — temperature and rainfall. It’s also possible that...”

...

On his tenth day away, the letter showed up.

Maggie,

I’m writing from the balcony of the hotel room overlooking the desert— well, more so the parking lot of the desert— and I��m reminded of the duality of this landscape. The arid climate and rugged terrain can make it a mercilessly hostile place. Yet at the same time, this environment is one of the most enigmatic and enchanting, and it’s teeming with life if you look close enough.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been out here. I think you’d like it. I’ve thought of another poem that makes me think of you, and of the way that I finally feel like I can breathe.

With thee, in the Desert –

With thee in the thirst –

With thee in the Tamarind wood –

Leopard breathes – at last!

- Emily Dickinson

Love,

Spencer

…

“Hi.” She yawned into her hand and let out a little sigh.

“Hi.” The tenor of his voice was quiet and weary. “I know it’s unbelievably late—”

She sat up and interrupted, “Are you okay?”

He was quiet for a moment, and her worry intensified. “I, um— I’m… I’m downstairs.”

She turned on the bedside lamp. “Like, right now?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed quietly. “I— I’m sorry. I should have called first before just— showing up at your door.”

She was already climbing out of bed. “No, no, honey, don’t be sorry. I’m coming to buzz you in.”

He didn’t speak, just breathed into her hair and clutched a little desperately at her back. She stroked a soothing hand over his curls and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “You’re safe, Spence. I’m right here.”

She shifted her weight slowly back and forth, rocking him gently and petting over his hair, steady and rhythmic. He burrowed his face into the crook of her neck and let out a shaky breath, and Maggie felt his tears on her skin. She brought both arms around his shoulders then, squeezing him tightly. “I’m right here, honey,” she repeated. “I’m right here.”

After a long while, he pulled back, still sniffling. Maggie reached out to grasp his face in both her hands, sweeping the tears from his cheeks with gentle thumbs. Her heart panged at the way his eyes were shining and ringed red, full of complete exhaustion and raging emotion.

“What do you need?” she asked. “Water, tea, a snack, a shower?”

He shook his head. “Just you,” he mumbled.

She had him wash his face and brush his teeth, and then she moved him to sit on the closed toilet lid. “Close your eyes,” she said softly.

———

Permanent (sfw) tags: @mrs-dr-reid @eevee0722 @goldentournesol

Series (x OC) tags: @kyomito

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #Spencer Reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #homoose writes #lhalc #tmsidk

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