crazychaoticizzy

[crazychaoticizzy]

note: the character fics are written for and word count will appear in parenthesis or brackets beside the track title. not all titles of the fics are the same as the song titles.

You Just Didn’t Like Me That Much

Reincarnation

Love of My Life

God and the Government

Right Person, Right Time

#izzy’s imagines ❀ #leanna firestone

[crazychaoticizzy]

take my breath away

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.

a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy

wc: 1.3k

warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff

“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?” 

“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.” 

“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.” 

“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.” 

“You never did sports as a kid?” 

“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.” 

Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.” 

“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.” 

“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.” 

Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help. 

You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed. 

(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)

Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit. 

His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face. 

“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.” 

“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?” 

“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.” 

Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.” 

“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.” 

You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?” 

“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—” 

“That coffee I had?” you interrupted. 

He nodded. “How’d you know?” 

“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.” 

Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.” 

“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.” 

“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated. 

“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.” 

“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?” 

He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.” 

“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.” 

“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”

“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused. 

“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”

“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.” 

Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.” 

You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?” 

“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.” 

For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.” 

“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?” 

You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?” 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer. 

When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot. 

“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head. 

“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.” 

Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”  

“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased. 

“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.” 

“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.” 

Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.” 

“But my teasing’s okay?” 

He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.” 

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.” 

His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time. 

“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?” 

“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?” 

“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.” 

Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.” 

You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” 

[crazychaoticizzy]

so i pointed something out and my friend @herfavoritethings made a thing

#criminal minds #spencer reid #willy wonka

[crazychaoticizzy]

Adoration

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: You catch the end of Spencer's lecture before the two of you go grab dinner and are amused by the students who are only there to ogle your cute boyfriend.

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: a little bit of fluff, a bit of flustered!spencer, established relationship

AN: I am so happy I actually wrote something! I have had terrible writer's block mixed with lack of motivation lately and have felt terrible about it. I've been watching Criminal Minds again and remembered that I wanted to write something based on that scene in 13x16 where Spencer is teaching and almost everyone is auditing his class because they think he's cute. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

You quietly snuck into Spencer’s class, taking a seat in the back so as not to bring attention to yourself. You knew you were early, but you figured you and Spencer would be able to get to the restaurant much faster and make your reservation if you could leave as soon as his class was over. It was Thursday, and every Thursday night, if Spencer wasn’t out on a case, was date night for the two of you. You knew he missed being in the field regularly, but you had to admit, you quite enjoyed getting to see your boyfriend more often. It made the times that he did have to leave for a case easier.

Once you were settled, you looked up and gave a small wave and a smile to Spencer. He was trying not smile and continue on with his lecture, but you could see a small hint of a grin in the corner of his mouth and a light blush on his cheeks.

If you were being honest, you had a completely selfish reason for arriving early, you wanted to see Spencer in his element. Teaching was such a great fit for him. It came naturally to him. You always teased him that you should have an honorary doctorate for attending his various impromptu lectures (Garcia may or may not have drafted up a fake diploma from “Boy Wonder University” and given it to you for your birthday).

As you looked around the room, you noticed that there were more people in the class than you expected. Spencer had told you that the class wasn’t that big, granted you weren’t sure what the average class size was, so maybe it was small compared to other classes. But then you noticed that most of the students were not writing anything down and seemed to be enamored by Spencer, and a knowing smile came to your face.

“Okay, let’s take a moment now to discuss the difference between a trigger and a stressor. A trigger is a sensory event experienced by an offender that precipitates subsequent behavior, whereas a stressor is a longer-term pattern of behavior or circumstances which push a person into behaving differently then they normally would,” Spencer paused briefly, looked around, and noticed a lack of notebooks and pens in use, “you’re probably gonna want to write this down. I shouldn’t be telling you guys this, but I’m definitely putting this on the final.”

“I’m only auditing this class.” A woman towards the front of the classroom shyly stated.

Spencer’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion, “Is anyone else auditing this class?”

Almost half of the class raised their hands, and you just barely stifled your laughter, a few chuckles managing to escape.

Spencer looked over at you, even more confused than he had been, “Okay,” he said quietly, not quite sure what to do. He looked down at his watch and decided to end class earlier for the day, “unfortunately, that is all the time we have for today. Thank you, guys.”

The class began to make their way out, but you overheard a couple of students talking about how dreamy Spencer was, which brought a smile to your face, they were right after all.

Spencer collected his things in a slightly agitated manner as you walked up to him, “That was some lecture, Dr. Reid.”

He looked up and gave you a tight-lipped smile, “Thanks.”

“Hey,” you gently put your hand on his shoulder, “what’s wrong?”

“I just…” he paused, “I’m just confused why so many of them aren’t enrolled in the class.”

You hold back another laugh, “Spencer? Really?”

“What?”

“Come on.”

“What?” He was growing more agitated.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, “For someone so brilliant, you really are clueless, aren’t you?”

“I’m not following.” Spencer stared at you, more confusion than ever on his face.

“Spencer,” you leaned in closer to him and whispered, “they think you’re cute.”

Spencer scoffed, “No they don’t.”

“They most certainly do,” you run your hands down his arms and take hold of his hands, “and I can’t blame them. You do you look quite dashing in this suit.”

He avoided your gaze, “They don’t think, I’m cute.”

“I heard, clear as day, one of them say, ‘Dr. Reid is such a hottie,’ and again they aren’t wrong.” You winked at him.

A furious red blush spread all over Spencer’s face and up to the tips of his ears, “Come on, we don’t want to be late for those dinner reservations.” He grabbed his bag and pulled you towards the exit.

“I can see the graffiti in the bathroom stalls, ‘Dr. Spencer Reid is a total babe,’ with a bunch of hearts drawn around it.”

Spencer released a chuckle, “No one’s gonna write that in the bathroom.”

“Well, give me a sharpie and I’ll go and write it. The world needs to know that you’re officially a hunky professor now!”

“Please don’t.”

“Alright,” you intertwined your fingers with his, “since you said please.”

“Thank you.” He kissed the side of your head as you continued to walk down the hall and towards the parking lot.

“Can I write it in the bathroom at the BAU?”

“No.”

“Can I write it in our bathroom?”

“Sure.”

“Yay!” you leaned your head against his shoulder, “Could I write in one of Rossi’s bathrooms too?”

“Absolutely not.” Spencer laughed.

You shrugged, “Worth a shot.”

[crazychaoticizzy]

i wanna write for criminal minds but my head is void of any ideas 🧍🏻‍♀️

#izzy’s rants

[crazychaoticizzy]

I wonder what kind of relationship these two would have had.

[crazychaoticizzy]

he's so 90s boyfriend coded

[crazychaoticizzy]

[crazychaoticizzy]

Just a little early season spencer dump 🤗

taglist- @spencers1wifey | @mvndfvelds | @mindfullycriminal | @luce-reid I @ferrjulie | @khxna | @ilovebeingdelulu | @lover-of-books-and-tea I@jaden-reid | @eli-chris | @multifandomsimp69 | @multiversejumper | @shadoesx

taglist/masterlist

[crazychaoticizzy]

How AOT characters boop:

Eren: rage-boops everyone, especially people that annoy him

Armin: politely boops everyone back, boops Annie first

Mikasa: boops Eren a dozen times

Annie: only boops Armin back

Hange: boops everyone and everything, the first to discover super boops and evil boops

Jean: rage-boops Eren, once he gets to evil boops, the revenge button is on fire

Reiner: only boops Jean because he’s a romantic

Levi: doesn’t have a tumblr account

Erwin: boops Levi’s nose

[crazychaoticizzy]

WHY DOES ISAYAMA KEEP DOING THIS

I CANT TAKE IT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[crazychaoticizzy]

Spencer Reid and his bread smile.

he's so cuuuuuuuuuteeeeee (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

[crazychaoticizzy]

please PLEASE learn how to tag your fanfics. Don’t tag fluff when it’s angst, don’t tag smut when it’s fluff and please don’t tag characters that ARENT EVEN MENTIONED IN THE FIC!!!!

[crazychaoticizzy]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

[crazychaoticizzy]

Girl Dad! Jean Kirstein

He's thrilled when your daughter chooses both dance and soccer - two very different aesthetics.

He watches a million YouTube videos on different intricate hairstyles for you daughter's dance recital.

She performs her dance routine for you and him in the living room. She's only six so she's falling all over the place, but that doesn't stop Jean from clapping at everything she does.

By the time the recital comes around, this man has memorized every part of her routine and knows what each move is called.

He and Connie go feral trying to get a front row seat and make sure the place has accommodations for Levi's wheelchair.

Jean, Connie and Levi are all looking quite dapper with bow ties for the recital and they're all holding flowers for her.

For soccer practice and games, he's the ultimate snack dad. Dude's got every possible snack in a giant reusable bag and a cooler full of water and Gatorade.

You and Levi frequently have to hit Jean in the head when he gets too amped up for her soccer games ("she's six for god's sake, chill out!!").

When she falls and gets hurt, he's the first one to run on the field and make sure she's okay. You both take her out for ice cream after.

That moment when your daughter's face gleams with determination on the soccer field? Jean's obsessed with it because that's when she reminds him of you.

[crazychaoticizzy]

i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's just miserable that no one remembered his birthday at work but when he gets home his roommate just welcomes him with the most thoughtful gift and a warm hug PLEASE

thank you for requesting! <3 fem!reader

The lights are off. The air conditioning blows a shade too cold. Spencer shrugs off his jacket and acknowledges that, despite his awful, aching day, it’s nice to be home. 

The living room is clean where it hadn’t been this morning when he left. If he had to clean it by himself, he’d die. It must’ve taken a good hour or longer, even the floor shines sparkling clean. 

“Hey?” he asks into the open air, wondering where you are. 

“Spencer!” you yelp from the kitchen, “Hey, what took you so long? It’s almost seven!” 

He sighs to himself with a great dash of self-pity. “I know. Had to stay and finish something. You cleaned?” 

“I had to! Quick, come in here, I need your help with something.” 

He doesn’t want to help, he wants to lay down in bed. Spencer wonders how a normal person, a normal boy, would feel after a day like today. He wonders if Morgan would go home and lay in bed and cry. He wonders if it could ever be possible for everyone to forget Morgan’s birthday. 

Spencer hangs his jacket on the rack and puts his bag by the shoes. He’s tempted to go to bed and pretend he hasn’t heard you, but he supposes he shouldn’t. He’d sort of been hoping you’d text him happy birthday, and but that never happened. He doesn’t think anybody in the world besides his mom knows what day it is today, and Spencer had to remind her, so. 

“Spence,” you say, your smile of a calibre he’s never witnessed, standing in front of the kitchen island with your hands behind your back, “I hope you know I’ve been waiting two whole hours for you to get back. Actually, I’ve been waiting all day, but you can’t be blamed for working. Okay. Are you ready?” 

“Am I ready? What did you want help with?” 

You step to the side, grinning, the sleeves of your nice blouse like big, soft petals around your wrists and against your thighs. “Tada!” you say, guiding his attention to the silver platter on the countertop, a chocolate cake at centre stage and stuck with candles, flames aglow. “I rushed to light them when I heard the door,” you tell him, and he can hear your breathlessness now, your excitement for him evident. “A lot of candles, you’re getting old! Too old for chocolate sprinkle. I should’ve got you something sophisticated.” 

“You got me a cake?” 

“It’s your birthday,” you say happily. “Happy birthday, Spencer. I got you some presents, too, but the cake is the best, it’s from the Leaven. How fancy is that?” 

“Will you sing?” he asks. 

He doesn’t know why he asks. He’s mostly kidding, but you smile shyly and beckon him toward you. “I’ll sing. Come stand over here.” 

You sing him happy birthday, and he blows out his candles, only ten candles altogether but enough to feel like a kid as the heat kisses his chin. 

“Okay, and I got you this,” you say, finally pulling both hands from behind your back, seemingly eager to move the focus from your performance.

It’s a bundle about as thick as an average novel. He knows it’ll be books before he opens it, because you know him, and it’s in your nature to give him your everything. 

He doesn’t look at them. He takes the package blindly and shoves it onto the counter, wrapping you in a hug so hard it makes your back click. “I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go. You don’t make him. “Sorry, I just– I–” You’re the only one who remembered. “Thank you for the cake.” 

You hug him not quite as hard, but tight. “Hey, it’s okay. I love you, you’re my best friend ever, you can pop me like a roll of dough any day of the week.” You might be exaggerating. Spencer doesn’t know. “But especially today, you know. You can have anything you want.” 

Spencer should let go. Anything you want, you’d said. He hugs you until he’s sure you’re sick of him, your thumb pressing little circles into his shoulder, his arms tucked up under your armpits and around your back. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“What?” he asks. “For what?” 

“For such a good hug. And being a great roommate. And for not complaining about the candles.” 

“The candles are perfect.” 

You lean back in his arms. “Thank you. Now what do you want first, cake or dinner?” 

Spencer really wants another hug. “Um. Cake?” 

“Good choice, handsome.”

His cheeks are pink by the time he gets a slice, but it’s the best birthday cake he’s ever had.

[crazychaoticizzy]

⋆·˚ ༘ * Izzy’s Fandom List

compiled list of shows i’ve seen, enjoyed, and will write for

Criminal Minds

Attack on Titan

Fullmetal Alchemist

Trigun

Jujutsu Kaisen

Tokyo Revengers