YAYYY

people treat bisan, motaz and plestia like they're influencers instead of, you know, people who have endured/are enduring war crimes beyond imagining and ethnic cleansing. what I mean is, they never asked to be spokesperson for their people's humanity, or planned to be so visible. they're just people, ordinary people who can never go home, who are surviving colonial violence. what they're doing and what they have done defies any term of admiration or respect I could apply. But I wish that people would stop thinking of these individual Palestinians trying to survive in war zones like celebrities or politicians with actual power because it's just another form of dehumanisation. Ask yourself, what will you do if something happens to Bisan? If she is killed or goes dark or inshallah she escapes? Everyday I see posts like, "if Bisan dies, I'll riot!" riot NOW. speak up, now! Palestinians and Lebanese and Syrian people who aren't going viral on social media are being murdered by the occupation in the 100s everyday. I am begging people to stop hingeing their faith in the free Palestine movement and the movement to end the Zionist occupation on individuals. I love Bisan and Motaz and Plestia with all my heart and pray for them every day, but I'm begging people not to reframe Palestinian liberation through individualism. Support BDS, donate to UNRWA or the Red Crescent Society, listen to Palestinians across Palestine and the diaspora. Your belief in the freedom of Indigenous peoples has to transcend the ones most visible and palatable to you.

One of the things that pisses me off most about this genocide and overall occupation is how many people say it's so complicated and there's so much nuance and there isn't one easy solution. This is one of the simplest things I have ever seen. Zionists invaded palestine in 1947-48. They have occupied it for 76 years while taking more and more land. They kidnap and torture and massacre Palestinians day in day out for those 76 years. They control every aspect of Palestinian life, including their water and medical care. And now they are committing another genocide against them. Where is the complication? What is hard to understand? "Well, Jewish people need a place where they won't be discriminated against" I absolutely agree. So make every country in the world safe for Jewish people. Fight against anti Semitism across the world. Don't commit a genocide and set up an ethnostate.

Hey everyone, this is Bisan from Gaza. I'm still alive but Hind is not. Do you remember Hind Rajab? This seven (7) years old child who was missed 12 days ago. Hind was in a car with five (5) family members and they were all killed - except Hind - by an Israeli bomb, and then she called the Ambulance, she asked them to rescue her. Two Ambulance men from the Red Crescent tried to do this but they were also missed. Now; today they were found killed. The body of Hind found killed, found murdered. It's just a new massacre added to the list of endlessly massacres committed by Israel against my people; Palestinians in Gaza right now.

No one holds Israel accountable until now. No one is doing anything. Hind was killed. Who is the next? I don't know, it might be any one of us, but I mean, it's a new, it's a new massacre - she is murdered. You all heard her story, you all heard her voice asking for help saying (Bisan speaks in Arabic first then translates to English the following) "take me with you, take me from here". She was between dead bodies for days, alone and no one could rescue her. We knew where she was, we knew that she was okay, we knew that she could contact the Red Crescent but no one rescued her.

-- Bisan on Instagram, 02.10.2024

There really is nothing left to say.

Lacey 🎀 - Matt Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,000

Content Warnings: explicit language, SMUT! (With plot), Matt w/ a breeding kink

For my anons who requested DAD!Matt. Hope you love <3

PT2 <-

You knock on Matt’s door, suitcase in tow, damp from the rain. He’s at there in seconds, shirtless, Lacey cooing at his hip. You sigh.

“They told me they were starting the renovations this month; I didn’t think they meant the first of the month.”

Matt laughs, lugging your suitcase inside. “Trade ya,” you coo, holding your arms out for Lacey. Matt complies, letting his one-year-old fall into your arms. She grips your hair carefully looping it around her fingers, a habit she picked up at six months. “And why aren’t you asleep, Ms?” You coo. Lacey rests her head above your chest, wrapping her short legs as far as she can around your torso. “Da-da” she babbles, raising a finger to Matt. You laugh.

“Oh, so this is your fault.” You joke. Matt raises his hands pleading innocent. “She took a three-hour-long nap and now refuses to sleep!” He laughs.

“I’ll put her down, go put a shirt on.” You smile. Carrying Lacey to her nursery.

Matt put work into Lacey's room; it was decorated with bows and teddies, pink from head to toe, with a white rocking chair adjoining her crib.

She protests when you attempt to lay her down, so you decide in your tiredness to hold her against you. You sway with her in the chair, humming her to sleep. Holding her with too much love to simply be doing a favor for a friend.

“She went down easy.” You say softly approaching Matt. He’s at the stovetop, cooking something in a frying pan. “She always does with you,” He laughs. “I’m making food if you want some,” he adds, “if you count frozen fried rice as a dinner.”

“Frozen dinners are nothing new to me, Matt.”

“She's getting so sassy.” Matt laughs. “She’s one!” You interpose. “The sassiest one-year-old I’ve ever met.” Matt snorts. The two of you laugh over Lacey for a bit too long until Matt stands. “I have a shit ton of errands I have to do tomorrow—I should sleep.” He says.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You urge. “Do you want my bed, I’ll take the couch?”

“No, you have a comfy couch. Plus, I want to watch some TV. Anyways.”

You change into loungewear and cozy onto the sofa, switching on the TV. Matt has the comfiest couch you’d ever slept on. Not that you’d slept on countless men’s sofas, but being friends with a girl dad had its perks.

You switch your show off at one a.m. The binge might have been too much. You lay back on the couch, shutting your eyes, but your peace is short-lived—Lacey cries, breaking the silence. You decide to be the one to soothe her, concluding Matt’s sleeping you creep to Lacey’s nursery and cradle her into your arms.

“Hunny, you're gonna wake up your daddy.” You lull, nursing her head. You pace the room with the toddler in your arms, bouncing as you step to pacify her. “Attagirl” You hum, seeing her close her eyes. You set her in her crib once more, hovering over her to adore her features.

“She's cute huh?” Matt sighs, he stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“She’s got your eyes.” You smile, turning to face him, “You know—I was trying to do something nice for you and put her back to sleep, but you being here awake defeats the whole purpose.” You pout. Matt smiles at your claim lightheartedly. “Not the whole purpose.” Matt drawls, “Because I wasn’t the one bouncing around the room with her.” You laugh, stepping out of the space with him. “You’d be a great mother, you know.” He hums. “I doubt it.” You counter. Matt stares for a second.“I trust you around my daughter more than anyone else; you know that?”

“I know.” You gush.

You bite your lip, knowing he’s going to go back to bed but wanting to stop the inevitable. “Matt?” You question. He turns his head to yours, his way of saying he’s listening. You step closer to him, snaking your arms around his neck. “I’m gonna kiss you.” You hum. “Go ahead, ma’”

With that, you pull his lips to yours, kissing him deeply. The kiss is half-lidded and tired, but your lips move against each other like parts of a puzzle. “Come to bed with me.” Matt urges. You raise a brow smiling. “Nothing sexual…” he groans, “It’ll be better than the couch.” You chuckle, “Just teasing Matt.”

The two of you wake up to Matt's blaring alarm. You groan, mumbling a “turn it off '' pulling a pillow over your head. “Sorry! Sorry!” Matt jeers, reaching over your body for his phone, and quickly clicking the alarm off.

“Okay, I have to go grocery shopping, do you want anything?” You cut him a look, pulling the pillow off your face. “Okay… You want to sleep, so I will leave...”

You sleep late. Late enough for Matt to have gone out of the house three times. The third time he’s back in the house he’d had enough of your snores. “Let's go wake Y/N, huh Lace?” Matt calls. He places Lacey down on the bed. She coos, crawling over to your sleeping form. “Mama! Mama!” She echoes, smiling widely.

Matt's eyes go wide. Mama?

He’s at a loss for words. She's never said that word before. She's calling you Mama? Maybe it was just a mix of words. Fuck.

“Hey, Lace?” Matt questions, almost as if expecting an answer. Lacey looks up at him for a split second, definitely more enamored in you. “Let's let Y/N sleep okay?” He says picking her up. “No, no, no.” She croons, her little eyebrows furring. “Mama!” She points, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “Lace, c’mon. Jesus.” He’s fighting a losing battle.

You sit up, blinking yourself awake to the sight in front of you, Matt fighting to keep his little girl in his grasp. She sees you awake and wriggles even more, twisting her hips around. “Matt you can let her go, I’m awake.” He sighs loudly. Letting her plop down on the bed. “Mama!” She calls, scooting over to you as fast as she can.

Your eyes go wide, shooting Matt a look. Did she just call you mama? Matt bites his lip nervously. You exhale deeply, choosing to ignore it for now, deciding to give Lacey the attention she wants you to hold her in the air, gently swooning her around. She squeals, bubbling with giggles. You laugh along with her, hers proving to be contagious.

“Breakfast?” Matt suggests. You nod, smiling greedily. “More like lunch, actually.” He smiles.

The two of you sit down after Matt puts Lacey down for a nap. It was a struggle.

You sit next to each other on the kitchen island, eating French toast out of takeout boxes. “This is nice. Thank you.”

“It’s my thank you, for putting her to sleep last night,” Matt says.

An awkward silence meets the two of you. The only sounds are the clanks of your utensils.

“So… uh—We kissed.” Matt interposes. You nod your head, “yeah…” Matt sighs, “And my daughter is calling you mom.” You nod again, smiling curtly at the unimaginable situation. “Yeah.” You laugh, awkwardness laced in your tone. Matt groans, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry—I guess she’s never really had any motherly figures in her life before. You’re kind of the only one.” You shake your head, biting your lip. “I don’t mind. It’s cute—Unless you have a problem with it, I don’t want to make things weird.”

Matt chuckles, “I’ll try and get her to call you Y/N, but she’s stubborn.” He jests, then his tone becomes genuine, “Okay, the kiss.” He adds. You smile childishly recalling the previous night. “Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

Matt hadn’t been on a formal date in a year and a half. So nervous was an understatement. Yes, you two were living together for the time being. Yes, you’d already mutually agreed you had feelings for each other and yes, he was scared shitless.

“You look nice,” Matt compliments. “Thank you.” You hum, leaning across the dashboard to press a kiss to his jaw. “So what are we eating?” You question, leaning back in your seat. “Italian,” Matt smiles, starting the car out of the lot.

The strong aromas of rich sauces fill your nose the second you step into the restaurant. You inhale lightly; Matt notices your gesture and smiles. “I'm guessing I chose right?” He smiles. “I do love pasta.” You hum, making your way to the reservation desk. “Sturniolo, Matthew,” Matt introduces, looking at a worker in white

The waiter shoots Matt a knowing look, almost like they know each other, grabbing two menus out of a slot. “Right this way,” he says, gesturing to the more secluded parts of the restaurant.

“This is fancy, Matthew.” You laugh, pulling your chair out. “I haven’t been out in a while—I know you haven’t been out in a while, so why not wine and dine you?” You laugh. “Wine does sound good right now.”

“What is this?” You laugh at the elongated French word sprawled across the menu. “I have no idea. We should order it and find out,” Matt jests. “For fifty dollars?” You smirk. Matt smiles, “Maybe a Google search is a better option for that one.”

Matt glances at the menu, a playful smile on his face. “Any preferences, or should I just surprise you?”

You laugh, “Surprise me. I trust your taste.”

Matt orders, leaving the waiter to come back minutes later with two plates of beautifully presented pasta in hand. You let out a “wow” as he sets the plates down.

“I haven’t been to a restaurant since before Lacey was born,” Matt confesses. You laugh “Shit, I can’t remember the last time I went on a date.”

Between mouthfuls, you and Matt make easy small talk, conversations flowing freely between the two of you—a mixture of lighthearted banter and genuine connection.

The waiter makes rounds, discreetly refilling your wine glasses, adding to the sense of indulgence.

“Finished?” A server asks, his French accent overpowering his words. “Yeah,” Matt replies, stacking the plates for him. “You ready?” He asks lightly, gesturing towards the door. “Yeah.”

“So did you wear that shirt just to tease me?” Matt says casually. Your cheeks flush red, and you giggle slightly. “Maybe...” you drawl, “Is it working?”

Matt curses under his breath, “A little too well.”

You step outside, turning the corner fast. Matt pulls your lips to his hungrily, so fast you stumble slightly into him. He snakes his hand under your top, pressing his cold palm to the arch of your back. You gasp, breaking the kiss.

“Fuck Matt.” He presses you back against the building leaning into you, kissing your neck harshly. “Jesus Y/N. I want you so bad.”

Your eyes dart around. You are not about to have car sex for you first time with him.

“Hotel,” You breathe, pointing across the street. Matt’s eyes follow yours, he nods slightly at your request “Yeah.” He breathes, pulling you over the curb, with no regard for oncoming traffic.

It doesn’t take Matt long to secure a room, the worker shoots the two of you disapproving looks handing you a swipe card. “Knock yourselves out.” The lady mumbles. “Trust me, we will.” Matt chides, under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

The two of you rush to the elevator. Once you are in Matt eagerly hits the button, “Why’d they put us on the fucking sixth floor. "He huffs, tapping his foot against the metal ground with eagerness. The door dings, signaling you’ve reached the floor. Matt lets out a sigh and pulls you out of the box. Kissing you harshly.

“Fuck, Matt—room.” You stammer. Matt complies and paces down the hallway in a near jog, your hand in his. He swipes the room card quickly and the transactor beeps red. “Fuck.” Matt breathes under his breath. You take the card from his hand and swipe it yourself. Slowly. “Pipe down lover boy.” You jeer, pushing the door open.

By the time the door’s closed both of your shirts had been discarded on the plaid rug. Your lips fall together messily, Matt's hands never leaving your body.

You sigh against his lips. “Matt, I need you.”

“I know,” He mumbles, toppling onto the bed with you.

Matt tugs on your bra fervently, “Fuck. Can I take this off?” He groans. You nod eagerly. He takes the bra off in one swift motion, not bothering to push it aside once it's off you.

He presses a kiss to your perked nipple sending a shiver down your body. “Matt, c’mon.” You groan, he’s teasing.

Matt trails his head down, loose hairs tickling your abdomen, he presses a kiss to your stomach, looking up at you. “You want to do this?” You nod rapidly. “Matt if you don’t touch me right now I’m going to get myself off.” With that, he rips off his belt. You, at the same time, shimmying your pants off your ankles.

“You're so pretty.” He gushes, wasting no time to dip a finger in your core. You whimper at the feeling. “Fuck, your so sensitive” He groans, “When’s the last time you’ve been touched like this?”

“Stop talking and move faster.” You moan, grinding against his fingers. “Sorry ma’” He quips, adding a second finger, pumping them quickly into your walls. He quickly finds your g-spot, chuckling slightly, when you wither under him. He abuses it, thrusting his fingers into your plush spot every time he prods his fingers. “Matt I’m gonna cum” You whine, he smirks as you scrunch your eyes.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” You babble through a trail of whimpers.

You orgasm around him, velvet walls clenching around his fingers. “You’re so sexy,” Matt mutters, pressing a kiss to your hips. He crouches above you, pulling his boxers off. His tip is red, awaiting release, glistening with precum.

He spits in his palm, pumping his dick twice before lining himself with your entrance, pushing himself in slowly, groaning as you tense around him. “You’re so tight fuck.” He moans bottoming out.

You pinch your eyes shut, “Matt—move.” You whine. He nods, starting a rhythmic pace against your hips. “So -ngh- good with kids why don’t I -mmph- give you your own. “ Matt moans, sending your mind into a frenzy. Your walls clench around him and he smirks. “You like it when I talk like that?” He grunts. “You want me to breed you?”

Your moans rise in pitch signaling to Matt your close. A trail of whimpers leaves your mouth, you, shaking your head slightly. “Oh—Matt. I can’t- I can’t.” He keeps his thrusts steady. “Yes you can’ c’mon”

“I'm cumming!” You shout, walls spamming around his length. “Good girl,” Matt grunts through his own moans chasing his high.

“Fuck! Can I cum inside?” Matt pleads, his thrusts growing sloppier. “Please.” You whine.

Matt moans, jolting his hips against yours, “Shit.” He curses, harshly gritting his teeth while he comes. His hips jolt against yours weakly before he pulls out and topples off you, sinking into the bedsheets. “Oh my god.” You sigh, chest heaving as you're grounded to reality. “Matt I..”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He interjects, cutting you off. You breathe deeply, letting a happy laugh fall from your lips. “Yes, I'll be your girlfriend!” You laugh, pulling his lips to yours. Your hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

Matt pulls away faster than you expect a look of worry on his face.“Lacey,” he curses, shooting up from bed.

Your eyes widen and you prop yourself against the headrest. He pulls on his jeans and boxers, loosely tossing you your shirt. You pull your top on swiftly. “The sitter?” You question. “We were supposed to be back fifty minutes ago.” He bites his lip, hastily checking the time on his phone.

Matt runs his hand through his hair anxiously. You face him, stationing hands on both his shoulders. “Matt. Breathe. Call the sitter, tell her you're sorry, and tell her you're on your way home.” Matt pauses, complying and dialing the sitter. She picks up on the second ring.

“Gloria, I am so sorry,” he breathes through the line. “We're going to the car now—be there in ten.” He rambles.

“It’s okay,” she assures. “Lacey’s sleeping. I’m glad your date went well.” She laughs. Matt thanks the woman, leaning his head back with relief.

“Everything’s okay. Let’s go see your girl.” You urge, collecting your last belongings and leaving the room.

Matt drives back quickly, fast enough to have you questioning if half the turns he’s made are legal. You exit the car to his complex's elevator, Matt taking fast-quick strides. “Lacey is fine,” you reassure, feigning his anxiousness. “Lacey's fine.” He repeats. You can tell he’s trying to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

Matt bursts into his apartment door like a man possessed, scaring poor Gloria, whose neck snaps to the door immediately. “In her crib?” Matt asks. Gloria nods. You follow Matt down the hall to Lacey’s room.

Matt pauses when he sees her sleeping soundly in her crib, exhaling deeply.

You snake your arms around his torso, lulling him into a hug. “See, she’s fine.” You hum. Matt melts against your touch, resting his head beside yours. “You’re amazing,” he mumbles, pulling you closer to him.

“Where’s Mama?” Lacey lisps, crossing her stubby arms. Matt groans; he’s sitting on the floor, across from his one-year-old with a clear attitude problem. “Y/N is at work,” he claims, handing Lacey her toy ball, which she refuses, claiming incoherently that she “only wants mama.”

This soon turns into wailing. Matt, unsure how to console his daughter, pinches his eyes shut when her plastic ball hits his face. He looks at her disapprovingly, which only makes her sob harder. “Is it nap time?” He asks, tilting his head towards the toddler. “Nap with mama.” Lacey huffs.

He sighs deeply, turning his head when he hears the door click open. “Hey! I got out early today,” you say, closing the door gently behind you. “That’s nice. Lacey's being a little demon,” he jests.

“Maaaama,” she babbles, scooting your way. You meet her halfway, picking her up. “Hi, baby.” You coo. “You're being mean to your daddy?” Matt laughs, pointing to the red ball, now across the room. “She threw that at me.” He laughs.

You gasp, feigning shock. “Did she?” You laugh. Matt nods, a smile plastered on his face.

“Oh! I have some good news.” You recall, setting Lacey down. She protests lightly but is quickly drawn back into her toys.

Matt stands, locking eyes with yours. He hums, signaling he’s listening. “They finished my apartment.” You point. His jaw clenches slightly. “And…?”

“And I wanted to talk to you about it…” You say, questioning your decision to bring the topic up. Matt picks Lacey up from behind, having her face you, she immediately reaches for you cooing gibberish. “You’re really going to move away from her.” He pouts playfully.

You pause. “You want me to stay?”

Matt nods. “Yeah. Maybe you should move in—just for Lacey.” He kisses you softly, holding Lacey sandwiched between the two of you. “Yeah, for Lacey.” You laugh.

the fact that an INTRO had such a big effect on some of y’all that you felt the need to publicly complain abt it and now we don’t have an intro at all. it was not even 10 seconds of a 20 minute video and yet it bothered y’all THAT much. that’s ridiculous.

hellooo I have a request for Spencer x bombshell! reader (I'm not sure if you've done this before and if you have I apologise!!) but like they're on a case and one of them gets pretty badly hurt somehow & then the other is really worried about them & stuff and then I'm not sure (I think this could be good but not the way that I have spoken about it and so I'm very very sorry!!)

u r so awesome don’t worry!!

cw canon typical violence and injury

Everything is crisp and quiet at the precipice of the stakeout. You adjust your gun where it’s poised over the roof of an SUV away from a moving officer’s body. The negotiator adjusts the megaphone at their thigh nervously, waiting for Hotch’s go ahead. You’re all waiting for it. A hand raised, sending you in, hostage recovered, a long case coming to a short close. 

“Don’t forget your leg,” Spencer says to you under his breath. 

“Trust me, babe, I can’t forget it,” you say back, glancing quickly at him to your left. He’s facing forward, trained on the window where you’d last seen the unsub. The distance between you both and the danger is small, less than three feet of space. You and Spencer don’t have a clear shot, the agent’s behind you better equipped and better trained, but you can make do in a pinch. 

“Hurting?” he whispers. 

“Half as bad as it was yesterday.” 

“I have a bad feeling.” 

“Yeah?” You follow Hotch’s hand. The negotiation begins. You and Spencer don’t talk again. 

The unsub is sour, the victim terrified. When the screaming inside begins in earnest, the FBI rolls inside, confident in taking down the unsub, if a little worried about the victims wellbeing. You and Spencer sweep in less than ten inches away from each other, unafraid, and you don’t see the sledgehammer until it’s hitting you in the jaw, spraying blood like dark ink over Spencer’s pale cheek. 

—

“I don’t care if that’s what you recommend.” A drag of a soft touch somewhere on your skin. “Sincerely. I want a second opinion.” 

“It’s a mandibular fracture, we have a suitable follow up procedure.” 

“I understand, but I’m doing what she’d want me to do. When she wakes up, she’ll say the same thing, and so there’s no point in starting the paperwork for a procedure she won’t agree to.” 

“I doubt her cosmetic preferences will outweigh functionality.” 

It’s Spencer’s voice, Spencer’s hand on your leg. He’s reaching back to hold you as he defends you. “Respectfully, you don’t know her. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. She needs peace and quiet.” 

The doctor harrumphs but leaves. Quiet is restored, and for a while you doze, the only thing at your attention Spencer’s hand where it climbs. He takes your hand. You know his fingers well where they twine between yours. 

A few hours pass by in sluggish slee, the bed elevated to an uncomfortable sitting position. 

“Hey?” he asks, fingertips to the hill of your shoulder. “Are you waking up?” 

You can’t make your mouth form words. Your eyes flash open in shock.

“Hey, don’t panic. I’m sorry, I’m going to explain, but please don’t panic.” 

You wait. 

Spencer stands in a rumpled shirt, hair in his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose. “Your jaw is broken, fractured, actually, pretty badly. You’ve had so much pain relief over the last few hours I’m surprised you can even open your eyes, and it’s good you’re struggling to move your mouth because it would only hurt anyways.” He claps your arm gently. “I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere though, okay? I’m right here.” 

That’s not what scares you; you know Spencer’s gonna stay. It’s not a question. 

Your hand strays up to your face. 

“It’s not bad,” he swears, and perhaps lies. 

“Spence,” you manage, a croak that aches and lisps at once. 

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning down. “Please don’t get upset.” 

You blink tearfully. You don’t remember what happened, just the flash of pain and now Spencer looking down at you like you’re wounded. He sits carefully on the side of your bed and grabs you by the waist, two hands on your sides and arms resting on your stomach, like a hug that hasn’t crept forward. 

“You won’t like the bruise,” he says apologetically. 

“Bad?” you whisper. 

“It’s all the way up to your eye. He also chipped two of your teeth… I’m so sorry, angel. It was my fault.” He thumbs your ribs. “I’ll fix everything. I already talked to your dentist, and tonight they’re coming back to talk about your plastics because the blow split your skin, okay? But you're mostly fixed already.” 

“‘M I… still pretty?” you ask. 

“Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, not half as shyly as he’d usually would. 

You cry panicked, dribbly tears. He rubs shapes into your sides and swears again that it’ll all be okay, and it’s not that you don’t believe him, it’s just that it’s really starting to hurt. 

“Had a bad feeling,” he says, wiping your tears as gently as he can before they can wet the bandaging on your jaw.

“Did you get him for me?” you ask. 

Morgan clears his throat from the doorway to announce his arrival, a coffee cup in hand, pastry bag hanging between his pinky and marriage finger. He sounds like he’s about to laugh, “Did you, lover boy?” He beams at you. “I’ve never seen him pistol whip someone before. You would’ve loved it.”

You groan in agony. Missing out on seeing that is almost as bad as breaking your jaw. 

“I’ll recreate it for you,” Spencer promises. 

“And now it’s time for him to eat,” Morgan says, putting the pastry bag on the bed, “and get some sleep. He hasn’t slept in the two days you’ve been in here.”

“I had important stuff to take care of,” he says, rubbing your side. “While you couldn’t do it yourself.”

“Sleep,” you insist through your achy mouth.

Spencer’s eyes go soft and sad. “I will.”

You can only reblog this today or until the next Monday, June 19th, 2034.

happy montgomery brawl day 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

pierced. | spencer reid.

Moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.

pt. 2

cw: fem!reader, 18+ piercing, fluffyish, reader has pierced tiddies, flirting, wondering if i should do a part 2 fr

a/n: coming from a pierced nipple girly who wants a cute boy to knock on her door. also enjoy <3 and follow >:) also yay for the first thing i've posted :3

You let out an exasperated sigh as you collapsed another cardboard box.

Moving into a new apartment was fun in theory, but the practice of filtering through everything you own and finding a neat little spot for it? not so much. You took a long sip from your now cold cup of coffee before glancing across the room at the looming pile of cardboard boxes that just stood there and mocked you.

You picked up the next box of what was probably clothes and took a box cutter to the almost twenty layers of tape across the seam (it wouldn't stay closed, in retrospect you should have made up another box but you were really determined to make it fit at the time).

You ripped the rest of the tape off and put your hands on your hips, glancing at your cat Tofu on the couch.

"Care to help?" you asked... the cat. Tofu proceeded to curl into herself and begin grooming tubby belly. "I guess not."

There was an abrupt knock on your apartment door, Tofu scattering to the wind at the sudden sound. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why anyone would be knocking on your door.

You had moved here a matter of days ago, knew no one and were far too broke for doordash. You ignored it for a moment, thinking whoever resided on the other side of the door had the wrong apartment. When the knock came again, you thought you'd better answer this time.

You opened the door ajar, just in case it was someone who wanted to steal any of the maybe four things you'd managed to unpack. A tall darker skinned man looked down at you, "Yes?"

"Hi ma'am, I'm Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we're with the FBI," he introduced himself, holding up his credentials for you to peek at. You opened the door the rest of the way, glancing at the second tall man standing in your door way. He had messy hair just below his ears and was wearing a collared shirt with two black pens tucked into the pocket over his chest, he was cute. He pulled his lips into a tight line and held his hand up in a wave.

Spencer's eyes glanced down your body briefly. He has certainly seen some strange outfits when people answer their doors but none that made his skin run hot like this.

You wore a baby blue tank top and grey adidas shorts, he could see a small sliver of skin between your two garments but that's not what caught his eye. You had your nipples pierced.

Now, Spencer really didn't mean to stare but they were right there. The air of your apartment was clearly chilly given how your nipples pressed against the fabric. He could see the little studs on either side of your hardened nipples and he felt like a Victorian boy seeing an ankle for the first time.

"Oh no, you found me," you joked, laughing at yourself lightly. They didn't laugh. Your smile dropped, "I'm joking. Uh, come in, please." You stood aside, letting the two men into your basically bare apartment.

"Just move in?" Morgan asked, looking around your small living room.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I'm starting a new job in a week," You replied, trying to make small talk. "What exactly are you here for?"

"There was a murder in the apartment across from yours," Dr. Reid said abruptly, stealing the air from your lungs.

Your eyes were blown wide, "What?"

"Young woman like you, stabbed to death-"

"Reid," Morgan warned, shaking his head softly at the younger man.

"Shit, that sucks," you replied, glancing between the two men. "I assume you're talking to me because I live close by, huh?"

"It's just procedure," Morgan replied. "Can you tell me where you were around 11pm last night?"

"Uh, yeah. I was here, I had a lot to unpack, you know?" You replied honestly, wondering how you didn't hear that someone was being murdered across the hall.

"And you didn't hear anything?" Morgan asked, eyebrows furrowed as he stood to face you.

"No, no I honestly didn't. I had my headphones on while I was unpacking, I went to bed around midnight." Were you incriminating yourself? Maybe you should make some friends so you don't get caught up in this kind of stuff.

"The UnSub we're looking for is white male, mid 20s to 30s, seems out of place. Have you seen anyone like that around?" Dr. Reid asked.

"No, I mean, I just moved here, I don't know anyone. I haven't left my apartment since I got here," you replied, looking Dr. Reid in the eye. You caught him glancing down at your boobs for a moment before he caught himself, clearing his throat.

It was only then that you realised what you were wearing. Fuck. Two FBI agents, one of whom was your type to a T came to question you about a murder and your nipples were gazing upon the world like a deer in headlights.

You quickly crossed your arms across your chest before scampering across the room to grab your hoodie off your couch. You pulled it over your head before staring at the two men awkwardly, your skin feeling hot.

"I'm sorry about... my attire, I didn't even-"

Morgan smiled, chucking softly, "Please, this is your home, sweetheart." Morgan glanced at Spencer, who suddenly found the ceiling utterly fascinating. "You mind if I have a look around? We suspect he used the fire escape."

"Of course, yeah. You can see it from the bedroom," you replied, being left alone with the cute doctor. "You seem young to be a doctor," you said softly, trying to make small talk.

"Scarring, tearing and nerve damage is possible when you get your," he coughed, "nipples pierced... infections and bleeding are also common," he quickly said, lips pulled into a tight line.

"Mm, cute and smart... well, I've had them for five years so... I think I'm safe, Dr. Reid," you replied with a chuckle.

"Spencer," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"Spencer, it's my name. Spencer Reid," he said, hands clutched tightly around the strap of his leather satchel.

"Spencer," you smiled, "I'm Y/N."

"Well, we better get out of your hair," Morgan returned from your room, glancing between you and Spencer for a moment. "Let's go, Reid."

You opened the door for them, Morgan thanked you as he left and started down the hall to the elevator. Spencer paused for a moment, glancing at you for briefly before walking out the door.

"Hey," you called softly. Spencer spun around to look at you and you definitely couldn't let him escape without your number. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Uh, girlfriend? I, uhm-"

"He doesn't!" Morgan called from down the hall, making you smile.

"You don't know that!" Spencer retorted, making a face at Morgan who was grinning.

"So... you do?" You asked.

"...No, I don't." He muttered.

"Okay, well," you laughed, plucking the pen from the pocket of Spencer's shirt. "Call me sometime," you scribbled your name and number with a little heart onto a scrap piece of paper that once wrapped your toaster.

"Yes... Okay, I will," he replied nervously, holding your number in his hands gently. He glanced at it, a smile beaming across his handsome face.

"You, uh, might wanna go before your partner loses it," you giggled after a beat. Spencer muttered a quick 'oh' before walking quickly toward the elevators.

"Bye," Spencer said softly, waving at you with a little smile.

"Bye, Dr. Reid!"

Spencer stepped into the elevator with Morgan, the silence palpable in the tiny mental container.

"'Bye, Dr. Reid~'," Morgan raised his voice an octave, planning to tease Spencer relentlessly and text the group chat as soon as they got to the car.

"Shut up!"

reblog and follow me :3 also come chat, i love to yap.

dividers by @cafekitsune