The Cutest Part In The Entire Saga

one of my favorite moments of Twilight (2008) is when Edward just yells, “CARLIIIIIIISLE” as bella is dying idk why but that moment is SO iconic to me

i’d be okay with my depression if it came with the blue tint from twilight, but alas i’m out here depressed in full contrast

i’m glad we get forever

gn!reader x jasper hale (fluff)

words: 387

summary: y/n and Jasper realize that being a vampire isn’t so bad when you have someone to love.

I twirl his silky golden hair between my fingers as he's intertwined with me. As a vampire, he can’t sleep, but I can tell he's at peace.

The Cullen house is quiet, and we’re the only people home. As you’d expect in Forks, you can hear the whirring of air and gentle raindrops tap against the windows from inside. The weather creates a tranquil ambiance for us to find comfort in. There’s a soft static on the TV that we keep on just for the background noise. It provides a dim glow that barely illuminates the room as we lay together.

Jasper and I are sprawled out on the pliant couch, halfway sunken into the seats. I feel his hands on me, and his soft maroon sweater brushes against my skin. For a brief second, I close my eyes and admire the sweet smell of fresh-cut flowers that lingers on all his clothes. I open my eyes again because I don’t want to take them off him.

His eyelids flutter open, and his soft, honey eyes meet mine. I smile and brush more hair away from his forehead. His skin is smooth, and my hand lingers on his temple. I can feel him hold onto me tighter, and his hands grip me more, but I don't mind. I feel secure in his arms, and it’s just so easy to relax with him.

Vampires are inherently cold creatures that don’t have a heartbeat, but he has the warmest heart I’ve ever known. I know he could make anyone feel this serene if he wanted to, but I wholeheartedly believe I feel this way because of my genuine love for him.

“I wish we could do this forever.” His words are soft and barely audible as they leave his mouth, but I can still make out his sticky sweet southern accent. Before I respond, I take a long minute to stare at his cold, soft lips. I don’t kiss him, but rather admire him just as he is.

"Jas, we really do have forever. We can do this for as long as you’d like,” I reassure him while feeling him lean into me and rest his head between my collarbone and jaw. The following words he says are muffled, but I cherish them regardless.

“I’m glad we get forever.”

I'm not the only one who thinks that if Jasper was human he'll have some sort of addiction, right?

Live, Laugh Love Matthew Gray Gubler

hey so I'm actually so in love with this and the way Spencer is written in this is so perfect and accurate to his character and I'm gonna go feral bc it was so sappy and sweet and made me so happy and rhgrogrjgjr just go read it rn

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

snivels pathetically... i miss when spotify like song button was a heart.....

I loved this so much I'm going insane omg- you wrote this prompt so well and I wasn't sure what to expect but I loved it! Thank you sm!!

howdy!! I luv ur writing and congrats sm on the 1000 followers milestone :)

I'd like to request a spencer reid/reader fic with 30 from the general dialogue prompt! Thx!

IRON WALL [CLIMACTERIC]

30. “Leave me alone.”

“Is that really what you want?”

WARNINGS: mentions of spencer’s kidnapping, elusions to spencer’s withdrawals, spencer is a tiny bit of a twat

spencer x gn!reader | hurt/comfort | 1.1k | climacteric event!!

a/n: thank you <3333 back on my angsty game fr-

main masterlist!!

“Reid?” You furrow your eyebrows at his dissociation, resisting the urge to wave your hand in front of his face as you approach him. “Spencer? Hello?”

He doesn’t turn his eyes upwards at your calls, keeping them locked on the trembling plastic lid of his take out coffee cup as he sits stationary at the round table with it cupped in his hands.

He does however give you a small hum so that you know he’s acknowledging your existence.

“Are you Okay?”

Obviously not. Spencer was probably going through the most uncomfortable day of his life. He felt like his brain was physically trying to escape from his skull and his stomach was clawing its way up his esophagus.

“I’m fine.” Spencer knew that he didn’t sound at all convincing, but he didn’t really have the mind to care at the moment. He was trying to focus on not ripping out his own eyeballs so that he could massage away his pounding headache from the inside out.

“You’re shaking,”

“I didn’t notice.” His snark isn’t something you’re used to, and it’s so out of character that you have to physically take a few seconds to check that this was indeed Spencer in front of you and not some doppelganger that had taken his place.

Him changing after the kidnapping was to be expected, he’d been through a lot of trauma that would surely impact the way he portrayed himself, but you never though that it would be this type of change.

You expected the quietness, the dissociation, even a level of defensiveness. But outright abrasiveness was something you weren’t prepared for.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You try to approach the topic carefully, your voice softened tenfold as you take a seat on the edge of the table next to him, but it seems that it wasn’t careful enough.

“No.”

“Spence-”

“Just leave me alone.” Spencer finally turns up to look at you, but instead of those round and bright eyes that you’d grown used to over the last few years, you’re greeted with nothing but blank slates that are furrowed under his eyebrows, a metaphorical iron wall spreading across the expanse of his scleras to block you from reading his emotions.

The one thing you can read from his expression is his impatience with you, and you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t sting a little.

“Is that really what you want Spencer?” Your shoulders drop a little, a small sigh leaving your mouth as you rub your hands over your arms. “You won’t feel better by bottling everything up, you know that…”

“I won’t feel better by telling anyone either.” Spencer turns his gaze away from you again so that he doesn’t have to look at the pitiful expression on your face. He didn’t need your pity, it wasn’t like it was going to do anything.

“You don’t know that…”

“I do know that.” Spencer scratches the inside of his right elbow during his retort, a self-soothing method that you’d noticed had developed after his kidnapping. “This isn’t something you can fix with some ‘words of affirmation’.”

“That’s not what I’m saying Spencer,” You sigh softly as his continued attempts at shutting down your advances, and you wonder whether you should just give up and let him deal with whatever he’s going through by himself.

But he doesn’t look okay, and you’re not sure that he can work through whatever it is by himself.

“I just want to help you…”

The subtle change in Spencer’s gaze tells you that the dejection in your tone might’ve cracked those iron walls a little bit, and he closes his eyes momentarily to take a deep breath in through his nose. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, but you really can’t help me,”

“Spencer please,” You sigh softly. “Even if it’s just getting everything off your chest,”

He bites the inside of his cheek, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt as he seemingly deliberates whether to let you in on what he’s feeling, and the second you hear that sigh of exasperation leave his throat you know you’ve managed to worm your way in.

“I’m having headaches, I can’t sleep, I constantly feel like I’m going to throw up and I can’t even drink my coffee without spilling it all over myself because my hands just won’t stay steady no matter how much I try to keep them stable-”

Spencer spills his issues to you in one long, unbroken sentence, and you’re half-surprised he even had enough breath to make it through the whole thing.

And the worst part is you know that there are things that he’s left out. But it’s a start at least.

You let out a small exhale as you absorb his words for a moment. “Do you want comfort or solutions Spencer?”

Spencer exhales heavily, the tension in his shoulders visibly relaxing as he considers your question. After a moment of contemplation, he looks up at you with a small, weary smile. "Comfort, please."

“I can do that,” You walk over to where he’s sitting to stand behind him with your hands resting gently on his shoulders, not wanting to push his physical boundaries too much or else force him back into his shell.

As you offer your comforting presence, you feel Spencer's shoulders slump as he leans into your touch, as if the weight of the world has been momentarily lifted off of him. His breathing slows down, and you can sense a slight ease in his demeanour.

You stay with him for a while, not saying anything, letting the room fall into a comfortable silence only broken by the sound of your hands rubbing against the fabric of his shirt against his shoulders. Eventually, he straightens up a bit, turning to look at you with a hint of gratitude in his eyes.

“Thank you…” His voice is quiet, barely a whisper, but tinged with a warmth of appreciation.

You smile back at him, relieved to see some of the tension in his face ease away. It might not solve all of his problems, but sometimes, just knowing that someone cares can make all the difference.

"Anytime, Spence," you give his shoulders a gentle squeeze. "We're in this together, okay?"

“Yeah…”

behind the scenes

gn!bau!reader x aaron hotchner (fluff, confessions)

words: 956

summary: Reader and Hotch have been keeping their love a secret, not even willing to admit it to each other, but when the reader starts having some financial issues Hotch knows he has to do something. The reader isn’t willing to take money from Hotch, but they gladly accept a confession of his love.

“Why did you call me into your office, sir?” you ask, closing the door to Hotchner’s dimly lit office. It’s not the first time you’ve been alone together in his office. Despite what you might want, nothing intimate has ever happened, just many late-night talks; venting to each other, telling stories, laughing, and even the occasional card game. You sit across from him as he slides his stack of paperwork to the side.

“I heard you’ve been struggling with money,” he says bluntly, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. You and Hotch had a confusing relationship. It was obvious to most people the two of you were head over heels, but you would never admit, even to each other, that you were in love. So, you were left to steal glances, let your hands linger when passing paperwork, and lean on each other only after everyone else on the jet fell asleep. With this line of work, anything else was too dangerous.

“Sir, you called me into your office to discuss my financial situation?” you ask quizzically. Aaron rarely called you into his office, not wanting anyone to suspect his true feelings, so this was strange.

“Garcia may have let it slip to me,” he responds, clearly taking this very seriously. You internally facepalm, knowing you shouldn’t have mentioned it to anyone.

“Yes, well the rent at my apartment went up, and on top of that I have student loans to pay off, and it’s just been hard to take care of everything on my salary,” you respond awkwardly.

“I see. I can put in a request for a raise for you if you’d li-”

“No, no that’s fine,” you say quickly, cutting him off. “I know the BAU is dealing with enough budget struggles as it is.”

“I could find the money,” he stares up at you, your features dimmed by the low light. He’d be disappointed if he hadn’t already memorized it.

“Aaron, you cannot give me federal funds to pay my rent,” you say in a hushed whisper, shocked that he would even suggest it. He just smiles.

“Embezzlement? No, I’d like to give you some of my money to help.”

“You can’t do that. What about Jack?”

“I promise, Jack and I are doing perfectly fine. He could go to Harvard for free with the money I have saved.”

“With a father like you, I’m sure he’ll get in.”

“You’re calling me smart?”

“No,” you grin, “but you’re in the FBI, so I’m sure you could guarantee his acceptance.”

“Right, with all the government money I’m embezzling,” he jokes. You just smile, taking a moment to look at him. His smile lines. The faint rings under his eyes from long nights at the office. It was all so perfect. “I just want you to know, I’m serious about this offer.”

“Aaron, my financial situation has been better since I last spoke to Garcia. I’m moving soon and I found a roomate.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says with a small smile, staring into your eyes.

“Will that be all?” you ask, smiling back.

“Yes,” he says reluctantly. “But I have one request.”

“What’s that?” You stand up and Hotch is quick to follow suit.

“You’ll let me visit the new apartment?”

“Of course. As coworkers?” Aaron’s smile fades, his face forming a pensive expression, but he doesn’t say anything. You watch as he swallows thickly, struggling to form a response.

“Yes, of course, as coworkers,” he clarifies. You stare at him, not saying a word, barely struggling to hold your laughter in. He cracks a smile, seeing your expression. “Something to say?” he asks you.

“Maybe you should come over as more than a coworker,” you say slyly, hoping you aren’t pushing the envelope too far.

“I’d like that,” he quickly agrees. Relief floods over you, causing you to smile with glee.

“Is it too soon to kiss you?” You ask playfully, shooting him a wink.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he says, leaning into you. You grab his tie, pulling him in close. Gently, he presses his warm lips against yours. He kisses you deeper, pressing your back against the office door. His big hands grab your waist, keeping you close. You snake your hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck. Slowly, he pulls away, leaving you hungry for more.

“We should probably stop, maybe we could continue this when I get the new apartment tour?” he suggests.

“I’d be very open to that,” you reply with a smile. He smiles back, filling your stomach with butterflies.

“I’ll see you then,” Hotch replies, straightening out his suit. You do the same and open the door, revealing Garcia, Morgan, Spencer, JJ, and Emily staring at you with wide grins.

“I knew it!!” Garcia exclaims, high-fiving Morgan as she giggles.

“Never took Hotch for a ladies man,” Emily jokes dryly.

“You must not have been paying attention,” Morgan chimes in, “the guy’s smooth.”

“Right, and I’m sure he learned it from you,” JJ says sarcastically. You laugh at her remark, drawing attention back to you and Hotch.

“Really?” you ask, embarrassed, “even Spencer knew?

“I pick up on body language very well,” he says straight-faced. “Plus, you didn’t think we were all asleep on the jet, did you?” he asks, smiling wide. The whole team playfully laughs and you turn back to Hotch.

“I think our secret is out,” you tell him.

“They were going to learn eventually,” he says with a smile. He cradles the back of your head and gently kisses your forehead in front of the team. Cheers erupt from your friends, causing you to blush, but Hotch doesn’t seem embarrassed, if anything, he’s proud.