#(i ended up in pasadena. what the fuck)

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT ; modern day songs they remind me of

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, badlinu, ranboo, billzo, aimsey, quackity, nihachu, jack manifold & slimecicle

warnings ; none

lmk if I should remove jack, billzo & aimsey bc ik they don't like fanfics but this is just some random blurb and idk. lmk yall lmao. this includes early 2000s-2020s music so don't come for me LMAO

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

vibe ; lil peep

give u the moon ; lil peep

remember you ; dominurmom

facetime with my mom (tonight) ; bo burnham

need 2 ; pinegrove

mr brightside ; the killers

shut up my moms calling ; hotel ugly

don't mess a good thing up ; remy

TUBBO

end of beginning ; djo

change ; djo

clown ; updog

where the lines overlap ; paramore

harness your hopes ; pavement

star shopping ; lil peep

conversations with strangers ; caitlin cook

him ; tokio hotel

out of my league ; fitz and the tantrums

playing god ; paramore

RANBOO

clown ; updog

pretty boy ; poutyface

already over ; mike shinoda

for a pessimist, im pretty optimistic ; paramore

nfwmb ; hozier

him ; tokio hotel

love who loves you back ; tokio hotel

oil ; gorillaz & stevie nicks

change ; djo

FREDDIE BADLINU

on and on ; djo

everything about me ; remy

too young ; phoenix

oh shit... are we in love? ; valley

feel good inc ; gorillaz

19-2000 ; gorillaz

tear in my heart ; twenty one pilots

tumblr girls ; g-eazy & christoph andersson

flash mountain ; djo

BILLZO

beautiful ; eminem

youngest daughter ; superheaven

secret garden ; spiritbox

1000 blunts ; $uicideboy$

when the sun hits ; slowdive

easy ; tokio hotel

downtown ; lil peep

granite ; sleep token

devils work ; freddie dredd

antarctica ; $uicideboy$

AIMSEY

hey there delilah ; plain white t's

all things end ; hozier

fcknstr ; britney manson ; 6arelyhuman

flash mountain ; djo

from eden ; hozier

gasoline ; haim & taylor swift

waves ; calpurnia

greyhound ; calpurnia

when it rains it pours ; tokio hotel

QUACKITY

clown ; updog

i want your video ; djo

false alarm ; the weeknd

nail tech ; jack harlow

le jardin ; la femme

collard greens ; schoolboy q & kendrick lamar

thats what you get ; paramore

don't want it ; lil nas x

pasadena ; la femme

NIKI NIHACHU

what the fuck is happening ; $uicideboy$

lil jeep ; lil peep

memoirs of a gorilla ; $uicideboy$

save that shit ; lil peep

romanticise this ; james marriott

say it ain't so ; calpurnia

fashion - slow ; britney manson

void ; lil nas x

rodeo ; lil nas x & nas

on my mama ; victoria monet

JACK MANIFOLD

judas ; lady gaga

tumblr girls ; g-eazy & christoph andersson

cupids chokehold ; gym class heroes

without me ; eminem

till I collapse ; eminem & nate dogg

hey ya ; outkast

the real slim shady ; eminem

yeah! ; usher, lil jon & ludacris

ride ; sir mix-a-lot

SLIMECICLE

runway walk ; demrick & brevi

fireflies ; owl city

them changes ; thundercat

action hero movie boy ; lemon demon

gooey ; glass animals

help let me go ; danny gonzalez

everybody talks ; neon trees

left brain, right brain ; bo burnham

punk tactics ; joey valence & brae

dance now ; joey valence & brae

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt preferences #mcyt x reader #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #mcyt oneshot #quackity x reader #badlinu x reader #nihachu x reader #charlie slimecicle x reader #music recs #music recommendation #jack manifold

[elekinetic]

What are your hcs about the Stranger Things characters’ futures? Like concerning their careers, where they wind up living, pets, colleges, or anything else that you want to talk about!

ohhhh i’m torn. i want them to all end up in the same place. i don’t think this is the canon answer but this is what makes me happy:

the party ends up in california for college. they all go to uc santa cruz, cause they didn’t get a chance to do the whole college application thing while saving the world and owens pulled some strings. el and max are roommates. dustin mike and lucas get put in a triple, but if mike starts staying at a certain party member’s single most of the time…..that’s none of their business. max starts as a neuroscience major until she fucking hates it. she’s at the arcade one night and watches someone repair a broken machine and is like, oh shit. that’s kinda cool. she switches to computer science, then to computer engineering bc CS is for nerds. (dustin does CS.) lucas came in as a political science major, but he realized he was way more interested in helping max with her neuroscience homework. he ends up doing a double major in political science and human health sciences. mike majors in communication cause it’s a compromise between getting a business degree like his parents insist and studying something he’s actually interested in (this is the problem. mike has no clue what he wants to study). will is a visual arts major obv. el switches her major about seventeen different times (zoology, religion, international relations, mechanical engineering). she ends up graduating w mike in communication bc its the easiest to apply her various credits to. el and dustin get really into improv. el also does theatre, and mike ends up getting dragged into the tech scene. lucas plays club basketball and gets involved in student govt. he sets up a lot of food and blood drives. the party goes to a board game club, but will goes EVERY week and makes a bunch of great friends. max learns guitar and starts playing at open mics (el is the only one who knows. and lucas, a little later). they all join the college radio station. first its dustin helping a mutual friend fix radio tech, then its will filling in for a mutual friend’s missing cohost, then it’s will and lucas starting an advice show, and el and max starting a show where max makes the tapes and el just talks about whatever she wants, and mike fucking around in the background of all his friends’ shows and shouting out unsolicited comments. when they all move off campus, mike and will, dustin and lucas, and el and max get their own apartments respectively. lumax starts talking abt moving in together and el is like “i love you both but i am not trying to third wheel in my own home.” thus, henderhop house is born. these two were BORN to be roommates. they become such good friends and are so respectful of each others space and are so so communicative! and they both love to cook. henderhop lives together for like, six years post college. listen, they have two cats together. they don’t want to traumatize them with a divorce. mike and will get a dog when they’re older (late 20s, early 30s). they used to catsit for their neighbor, but mike is crazy allergic. it always sounds like he’s going through puberty again. the party ends up in southern california. el becomes an archaeologist and travels a lot. dustin lives in pasadena and works for JPL. max does some work with him, does some contacts for a few different companies. she eventually becomes a professor and spends her off time doing research. lucas becomes a pediatrician. later in life he serves on city council, then turns to non-profit work. will get a job as an illustration intern at a comic house straight out of college and works his way up from there. mike bounces around office jobs, does some time at a publishing house, and goes back to school for a creative writing MFA. he sells some original stuff but he ends up mostly writing comics for IPs with will. they make a name for themselves in the Star Wars EA and actually get invited to a couple comic-con panels. dustin flips his shit.

#stranger things #comic con panel #stranger things (ella's version)

[rokhal]

ANGR fanfic: Up Close

Tears running down my face 'Til he looks back and turns it up all the way / And then I feel, I feel a song holdin' me tight I think a drivеr might've saved my night

Robbie’s niche musical taste saves a life.

Warning for suicide attempt, non-graphic, subtextual.

(Inspired by A Driver Saved My Night (up close) which was playing at the gym, and which I mis-heard as A Driver Saved My Life, and which does not at any point appear in this fanfic. And inspired by the Colorado Street Bridge in LA, which is very beautiful and, uh, has very high fences to keep people from jumping off.)

Two-fifteen on a Sunday morning; the bars were closing, the amateur clubbers were heading home, and the locals with ties to some after-hours scene were heading to private parties in garages and basements to keep the music and tequila flowing. Robbie didn’t go to parties anymore, but his rideshare gig had opened his eyes to a far broader range of music and hedonism than he’d ever explored as a rebellious fifteen-year-old. Five years was a lifetime ago.

Robbie was in Pasadena. This was a problem because he had work in the morning and Pasadena was anywhere between twenty minutes and two hours from Hillrock Heights, depending on traffic and construction. But the Uber app had been considerate enough to actually book him a pax heading toward home, so he was trying to stay awake enough not to crash into a pylon or lose control of his body and let Eli strangle the pax as they meandered through roomy suburbs lit by brand-new LED streetlights.

“You can play your music,” the pax grumbled as she pressed her damp face into the Charger’s window. She was about Robbie’s age, wearing a designer sweatsuit and missing a shoe. She’d been waiting alone on a street corner by the bar for him to pick her up, no one watching her back as she verified that he was the driver who’d matched her in the app, which for a woman meant that she either had bad friends or no friends.

Robbie’s music was an acquired taste. Eli had suggested Robbie add his current selection to his playlist, not knowing what it was, and now Robbie played it at full volume whenever he wanted Eli to shut up. It was titled Fuck Your Punk Rock, and was the most punk-rock thing Robbie had ever heard. “You sure?” he checked, reaching for his phone.

“I’m done being an inconvenience,” the pax spat. “Sure.”

Robbie woke his phone up and un-paused Fuck Your Punk Rock. A scream of metallic rage thundered through the Charger, and the pax jolted away from the window.

The pax stared at Robbie’s phone, followed the cable to the tape deck and back again as though to confirm nothing was broken. The current track was mainly static and electronic glitches, but there was a swelling undercurrent of clangs and creaks, and faintly an angry human voice. “You like that?” she asked.

Robbie shrugged. Listening to it at full volume felt a little like being the Rider, and it soothed the frustration that built whenever he spent too long without changing.

They drove on. The pax didn’t start crying on his window again, and instead curled down over her knees, her seatbelt sinking into the fold of her hips as she buried her face in her hands and rocked slightly back and forth. Robbie was...concerned. She definitely wasn’t sober, but she didn’t seem intoxicated enough to be this out of control. As they pulled away from a stop sign, she let out a rising, wordless yell.

I can make it stop, Eli offered.

Robbie twisted the volume knob a little higher. The static pops strained the Charger’s speaker-cones. The pax got louder to match it. By the end of the block, she ran out of air, but she just inhaled and then slowly built into another yell.

At least she hadn’t tried to stab him yet.

Ten minutes of yelling, and they reached the pax’s destination of 529 W Colorado Boulevard which turned out to be just the middle of a two-lane road. On a bridge over the dark arroyo, a tall bridge, with a great view of the sleepy night-time streets and sparse roads that lit up the distant hills. There was nowhere safe to park. “Is this the right address?” Robbie checked.

The bridge had eight-foot chainlink fence on each side, just inside the pedestrian railing. Pasadena really did not want anyone falling off, though there was nothing to stop idiots trying to climb the fences.

There was no one coming behind him, so Robbie dropped the Charger to first gear and rumbled along at its parking-lot pace. “Hey, uh.” He checked the trip on his phone, paused the album. “Lacey. We’re at the destination but there’s nothing here.”

The pax slowly lifted her head from her hands and stared out into the night, the soft glow of street-lamps on roofs and bushes, the deep black of the arroyo below. “They fenced it off,” she said.

The fence probably spoiled the view in the daytime; the bridge was a nice old-fashioned one, with sculpted concrete railings made to look like stone, a little too short by modern standards. “It’s a safety hazard,” Robbie remarked.

Robbie. I don’t see no reason to get in her way. Understand? We can help. It’d be a favor to her.

What?

“What were you playing?” the pax asked, pointing at his phone.

“Uh, cut-up noise,” Robbie explained. “It’s by Sickness.”

“Sickness.” The pax pulled out her phone, made a note on it. “I wanna listen to that again.”

The Charger rolled slowly over the void below, street-lamps in their path shining on the fence to either side of them. “I think there might be a safe place to stop on the other side,” Robbie offered.

“Can you put the noise back on?”

Robbie un-paused Fuck Your Punk Rock, then hurriedly skipped the track with the sampled helicopter noise. He had to be in a particular mood for that one. The pax leaned back against the headrest and growled at the ceiling, then screamed. Robbie realized that she was singing along. He joined in, accidentally opened the throttle in time with his breath and launched the Charger from ten to forty miles an hour. They reached the other side of the arroyo and he parked. “Okay,” he yelled over the noise and the engine. “Here you go.”

“Can I change my trip?” the pax rasped. She’d apparently yelled too hard.

Robbie shrugged. Hopefully she’d still be traveling vaguely South. He watched for the new destination to pop up in the app: West. Close enough.

“I like your music,” she continued as they headed off again.

Robbie raised one eyebrow. “Really?”

“It sounds like inside my head.”

It would be a mercy, Eli insisted. Robbie grimaced in sympathy, then held out his free hand to bump fists with the pax. “Rock on.”

#fanfiction #my fanfic #all-new ghost rider #robbie reyes #tw: depression #noise music

[ryutarotakedown]

saw several pro-palestine protesters at the rose parade today <3

[i wrote this post on jan 1 but never posted it because i never got the spoons to put in the pictures but if someone wants them i'll upload them]

okay. i feel like i should write this down because i know it's probably not going to be in the news

so, the rose parade is this event on the first day of every year in pasadena, california, where there are lots of floats representing different organizations decorated with roses. it's very famous nation-wide apparently even though i only found out about it recently.

anyway, i was watching the rose parade today with my dad because i just got to california a few days ago. we were standing near the end of the route. the cops came on first and did some kind of circling around move on motorcycles that made some people start cheering for them. eh. then when the first float arrived - around 10 people came up to stand in the middle of the road to block it, and lifted up a free palestine banner

here is a pic i got of this (i know you're supposed to censor people's faces but since this was a public parade and i assume the point was visibility i'm not sure if that's necessary? let me know if it is)

[pic]

now you might say, well jules, california is a left-leaning place, isn't it? apparently not! a bunch of the people around me started booing them, because they're assholes! i explained to my dad what was going on

anyway, more cops (i assume they were cops - the people wearing cream colored shirts) came up to them and started trying to get them to leave. i couldn't hear anything, but the float was stopped for about 15 minutes total. there were people on either side waving the flag of palestine and holding up more banners - ceasefire now, free palestine, and so on

i heard a man next to me trying to puzzle out one of the signs, which was being blocked by police. "never… a…?"

"never again for anyone," i told him. he hadn't been one of the people booing, i don't think.

"never again for anyone? okay." he nodded at me and the conversation was over.

i looked back over to the protesters and after a few more minutes, i saw the cops leading some of them away. one guy yelled "lock them up!" i would have told him to fuck himself but my dad was there, unfortunately. the rest of the protesters were led away after that. i didn't see any violence happening but i was too far away to be sure. the parade proceeded.

after that i think police presence was increased, because i noticed halfway through that while originally there were only cops on one side of the four-way intersection there were now also cops stationed on the other end, like, a lot of them? in some kind of lifted structure?

[pic]

also and more importantly, people on either side of the intersection were still waving palestine flags after the protesters blocking the road were forced out. i noticed that there was a group of people holding banners a little further down the intersection, and a bunch of cops were standing in front of the banners, blocking them. didn't block my phone though suckers

[pic]

anyway all of this is just to say. the american police is trying to suppress pro-palestine protests. it happened today and it happened at the macy's thanksgiving parade. but there are more people out there fighting for palestine than you think. apathy is a tool of the enemy and palestine will be free. okay thanks bye

#palestine #storm for palestine #endisraelsgenocide #end israels genocide #<- last post for today parents telling me to sleep please keep posting

[lowresolutioncryptid]

ALEISTER CROWLEY IS EVIL

preface so I'm posting this 2 my main blog hoping it gets more traction &more ppl see it but if yall r interested in topics about the occult/spirituality/witchcraft/Judaism I have a side blog for that : @selfborn .. back 2 the regularly scheduled post..

I remember being a young witch new to my craft and hearing about the "prophet" aleister Crowley. Everyone with internet access, at some point, will see his works being referenced, his "artistic" photographs being used in many occult YouTube series, even going as far as to use his writings as sources for new age demonology or kabbalah which as a Jewish witch irks me to no end but that is mostly beside the point: Aleister Crowley was an evil, mentally unstable man that commited many crimes including but not limited to:

literal human sacrifice, rvpe, and child abuse.

He committed these crimes during his evil "rituals". Many victims were forgotten or not investigated because, as we have seen many times: killers target vulnerable and socially ostracized groups & law enforcement doesn't care when marginalized people are abused or killed.

He was involved with other powerful people and was a member of the masonic temple Ordo Templi Orientis along with John "Jack" Parsons one of the founding members of JPL, a branch of NASA that operates on stolen indigenous Hahamog-na1 land literally within walking distance from me. they conducted these evil "rituals" at the site also at estates in pasadena.

I have seen first hand the effects that they& their associate government organizations have had on the nature in the Arroyo Seco basin & the san Gabriel mountains, I watched them clear out forests and I watched the rivers around the facility turn grey and dry up, whole fenced off areas where they dig for G-D knows what and disrupt the wildlife &the structural integrity of the mountains. And I had to watch the effects& consequences of pollution on my community, we are, mostly, poor, black,brown&mixed, new families with young children who probably cannot afford to support themselves in the more gentrified urban areas, our school district is getting progressively worse, there's homeless, disabled and at risk youth and elders, city infrastructure issues..

and where is our funding, resources, and man-power going? To JPL, NASA, and the LAPD& local sheriff's. This is environmental racism and class war. We are getting thrown under the bus in the name of false scientific "progress".

I am so, so, tired of seeing this evil pigs face plastered on edgy "occult" blogs who are too lazy to research the people that they idolize. Aleister Crowley was nothing more than a government masonic shill, a delusional violent man that became high on the power& protection he believed he was awarded from other powerful privileged white men. And I'm tired of everyone getting on their knees open-mouthed for NASA &JPL reposting their cgi rendered composite images of black holes &dark matter for their aesthetic UwU while my community has to suffer for you to receive those pretty pictures. I hope it's fucking worth it.

I'm putting my personal shit out into the wind hoping someone will see it, I don't care if someone doesn't believe me or if I ruffle space nerds feathers or if I get targeted because I've been targeted and followed on the street before, I'm already at risk for speaking out and also because of my life's circumstances, and I don't care. This is important to me.

Knowledge is Power.

/end rant

#occult #spirit #spirituality #occult science #aleister crowley #rot in hell trash #jack parsons #jpl #nasa #space #magic #witchcraft #space station #iss #demonology #kabbalah #qabbalah #decolonize #land back #environmental racism #class war #pollution #space industry #lapd #nolapd #fuck pigs #defund the police #defund nasa

[guttcd]

𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀...

DEJAN BENNANI ( cismale , he/him , emilio sakraya ) is 26 and a BOXER from PASADENA, CALIFORNIA. they are known as THE HEDONIST  because they are CHARMING , but if things kick off, they can be a bit NARCISSISTIC they’re PANSEXUAL and describe their type as FUN AND EXCITING . from their time in the villa, they’re hoping to find FAME. ( aesthetics: going on a run at midnight, aggressive reassurances, bloody noses, backstage pep talks, the sudden urge to show off, clumsy attempts at being gentle, getting drunk off expensive liquor, lavish nights out, feeling like everyone is out to get you, )

CONFESSIONALS  | MUSINGS | MIRROR | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST 

b a s i c s

full name: dejan hassan bennani sexual orientation: pansexual  occupation: boxer age: twenty six birthday: july 26 likes: fucking around and finding out, spending a ridiculous amount of money on materialistic crap, reading, sports,  dislikes: clingy people, escape rooms, ketchup, clowns

h i s t o r y

being the only son of a renowned boxing coach meant his future was practically sealed from the moment he was born. after having trained some of the best boxers of his generation, dejan’s father made it his mission to make dejan on of the best boxers the world had ever seen. 

unfortunately for him, the journey to make a certified punching machine was going to be a long one.

growing up dejan was a gentle kid, the type that would cry if he stepped on a worm and who preferred to go to the library to read books during recess. 

he loved reading. every genre. his favorite book? moby dick. ( i’ve never read it lol ) he can’t remember much if it now, but he recalls daydreaming about going on a great ocean adventure someday. it was thanks to that book that dejan developed a love for the ocean and it even fostered a desire of becoming a marine biologist someday. 

of course, that dream was cut short when his father began ‘ pushing ’ his son to pursue a career in boxing instead and by that I mean his father practically bullied him into it tbh

all’s well that ends well though ‘cus dejan ended up really enjoying it! the only setback? he became a spitting image of his father 

his aggression, his narcissistic attitude, his inability to prioritize anything outside of himself and his desires, the list goes on and on. 

p r e s e n t

one thing that dejan’s father got right was his son’s ability to kick ass. dejan had a natural athleticism to him so pair that an acquired taste of blood, glamour, and adrenaline? boom— you got yourself a professional boxer. 

so with his ever growing career, what the heck is this guy doing on love island?

well, dejan had become a bit of an online personality, especially after having fought the one... the only... lo.gan pa.ul ( 🤢)

he ended up getting injured during his fight with him which resulted in dejan not only loosing the fight but also being unable to participate in any upcoming tournaments. 

dejan was building good social media momentum though, so his manager suggested he goes on the show as to not loose the public’s interest.

if anyone asks, he'll provide that basic answer of wanting to find love yada yada yada

in truth, he’s here to stir shit and continue to add to his bad boy persona online. 

does he believe in love? sure. does he think he’s capable of feeling it? maybe. does he think he’s going to find it on love fucking island? hell nah. 

fun fact: he dated romi about two years ago. they had been friends since childhood but their relationship only lasted about a year. how did it end? romi walked in on him cheating on them with their... cousin. dejan being the man ( derogatory ) that he is, never fully apologized for the affair. they broke up, went their separate ways, and had absolutely no reason to interact. until now.

p e r s o n a l i t y

+confident +competitive +ambitious -judgmental -narcissistic -manipulative mbti: entp natal chart :  ↑ cancer,  ⊙ leo, ☾ sagitarrius

he’s a fuckboi your honor. an absolute menace to society. 

fluctuates between being honest to the point it’s cruel and lying through his damn teeth to get what he wants. 

years of  being ridiculed for his softer side has caused dejan to become.... an asshole tbh. at this point he feels it’s become so engrained in his psyche that he doesn’t think he could change even if he wanted to. 

the hedonist is his title because dejan is the type of man who puts having a good time above all else. 

god complex whom?

judgmental little b omg his inner monologue? terrible. 9/10 is just thinking of reasons why he is better than everyone. 

socializing for an extended period of time stresses him out lol i imagine the first thing he does when he gets in the villa is look for a quiet place where he can read.

feel free to try and fix him. lord knows he desperately needs it lol 

gaslight gatekeep getfucked ™

OOC: hi i’m nuve! dejan is a new character for me so bear with me as i try to figure him out lol but im so hype to be here and  i can’t wait to write with you all <3

#crackon:intro #intro:dejan

[diaryofdayet]

Mar 23 𓇢𓆸 Los Angeles

My alarm woke me up at six. I leaped out of bed, eager to meet the day like a morning person. I tried to ignore the fact that it was dark outside and my head felt stuffy. I changed into leggings and a fleece and took a dizzy walk down the street and up the hill.

It was still dark when I reached the top. I climbed onto an electrical unit and looked at the still-sleeping city. Yellow lights and smears of grey and purple. Two crows landed on the nearest utility pole. They cawed for their friends while another crow flew above me. It was so still I could hear the flap of his wings.

I wrote, then changed into a grey turtleneck and a long black dress. It was a rainy, somber day. I drove to the neglected strip mall where we'd scheduled our photoshoot and helped our photographer, Reese, unlock the right room.

Reese was a photographer for famous indie acts. When everyone piled into the room they started asking her what it was like to work with so-and-so and so-and-so. I tried to act like I didn't care about the answers but, of course, I did.

Archie grabbed the seat of my chair and pulled me towards him while we waited for our turn to be photographed. He snuck an arm around my waist and buried his head in my elbow. I ran my fingers through his hair. I missed Chris.

The photo shoot felt fun and easy, especially because I was rarely photographed alone. When we'd wrapped we all drove to a noodle place in Pasadena. I grabbed a Gatorade on the way because my morning congestion still lingered. I didn't dare admit to myself that I was catching a cold.

But by the end of lunch, I was feeling miserable. I drove home quickly and climbed into bed, convinced a nap would fix me.

A few hours later, I had a raging headache, a stuffed nose, and a cough.

Fuck.

I called Chris.

"I'm sick in bed and could use a distraction." I closed my eyes and let his voice tranquilize me.

We talked about his parents' divorce and mine. I found out he was rich. I told him I wasn't. I told him I was scared of therapists.

"You're sick, so I should let you go soon. Only thirty more minutes."

"Yeah, let's hang up in about forty-five minutes."

"An hour, tops."

I laughed and opened my eyes.

My eyes felt heavy. Too heavy. Something was wrong. I crawled to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

"Oh my god, Chris. My eye is completely swollen."

"Send me a picture."

"I can't, I look like Quasimodo."

"Just send me a picture."

I sent one.

"Woah, ba....be." He tried to reel back in the pet name but it was too late. I was barely paying attention anyway. Was this related to the hives?

I wished I could call my parents, but I knew they'd be practically useless. I called Stella. She was drunk.

"I'm coming home. You need to take two Benadryl and come over right now so I can monitor you," she shouted through the phone.

I called Chris back. He put on a responsible voice and talked to me until I got to Stella's. She tried to chat with me but I was too far gone. I fell into a dark sleep.

𓇢𓆸

Dayet

#writing #journal #diary

[deerblossoms]

all my coworkers i love are quitting and i’m stuck where i am unless i throw in the bartender towel. i feel a weird change in the air. i think i am not living for myself and i don’t know how to change. i think my feelings for certain people are dying and if that’s true i’m okay with it. i can be in love with jo forever and that’s just fine with me. i have very little time to put his book together tbh but i’m going to try to buy the supplies before work one day and then put it all together saturday and next thursday. that’s the goal. i need to quit my job but i’m going to have to wait it out a little until i can hone my skills and really javi quitting might be the best thing to ever happen to my career in that respect. i’ve felt beautiful lately and i like it. my hair is so much healthier and i think for the first time ever i have a haircut that i 100% love and think suits me entirely. so i’m relieved that worked out in the end! i’ve dropped off reading a little bit. i WAS reading books i loved but i was too late starting them and they expired from the library. so i have to wait to finish them. i’m especially loving kitchen by banana yoshimoto. that book is special and hits me exactly where i need it to. reminds me of jo’s writing a little in its magic. speaking of jo’s writing! i showed my book to gabby and she says it’s perfect and special and that she sees how someone could fall in love with someone through their words because of his writing. and it made me want to cry. it’s so obvious to everyone how incredible he is! and speaking of GABBY she and luna are breaking up. i hope. god i fucking hope they break up they’ll both be miserable but then they’ll be relieved. they’re bad for each other right now even though they love each other so much and i think breaking up now is the only thing that could salvage their relationship in the future. i’m gonna call him today and hope to god he picks up because i want to talk to him. a) i miss him! the bitch’s been ghosting me and frankly i knew something was up with him and gabby because of it. gabby texts me more often when things are wrong and luna texts me less. i don’t know what that means. and b) i’m worried about him. and her. and i want him to think critically and i think i’m the only genuinely neutral party he knows. god the real kicker is that gabby’s got feelings for someone else! and it’s a GUY which is very surprising for her. i will be real and say gabby and luna’s relationship scares me sometimes. like if that ever happened to me and jo….. but we’re different people. and to be honest i think me and jo are closer. i’ve been drawing more recently! doodling portraits of my coworkers on the whiteboard at work and just random ass portraits in my sketchbook. i’m always relieved when i’m drawing. i think i’m pent up and stressed subconsciously when i’m not, if that makes sense. it’s not like it’s even something i think about but a tension is released when i put pencil to paper. same with reading, same with listening to music, same when i get behind a camera or take a nice walk. i wonder if i’m really going to move out of new york. i do want to move in with jo and gabby of course wants me to move to new orleans but i don’t actually want to leave new york for pasadena, or new orleans. not right now. the magic here has been a little more vibrant recently and it’s making me curious to see what might happen if i stick around. i have a new coworker who i fucking despised when i met him and now he’s quitting and the problem is that i really like him now. but he’s 34 and a little obsessed with me and i think he may think i’m hitting on him if i get his number and ask to stay in touch. but then again does it matter? like actually. say i never see him again. what does it matter? i am so afraid of embarrassment that i never take any risks and i think it’s ruining my life. somehow i’ve hyped myself up. if i see him i’ll ask him. maybe we can be friends 👍👍👍 anyways. happy thanksgiving. i GUESS.

[dinacharya]

remember? (an ode to dating in your 20s)

remember when you were 22 and you had that 14-hr marathon date with that 31 yr old? you went from coffee to the norton simon museum to dinner (your one and only time at Pine & Crane), then you went to walk the lake in the evening and decided while sitting in the dark on a park bench to go catch the last showing of Blade Runner 2049 so the night wouldn't end. he kissed you goodnight at your car. you weren’t impressed with the movie but you were impressed by his knowledge of plants in norton simon’s garden. you were impressed by his vintage volvo and bachelor pad apartment with beautiful shelves of organized records. he said he taught modular synth workshops in amsterdam and berlin and that sounded cool though you didn’t know what that meant. that was the first DJ you dated.

remember the first time you went on a date with someone who didn’t have a car and driving back to pasadena with him in the passenger seat you thought to yourself, what the fuck am i doing i don’t want him coming home with me.... do i have to drive him home?!?!

remember the time you showed up at the indian restaurant in Downtown and he was already sitting at the table, so it wasn’t until an hour and a half of conversation later when he stood up from the table that you realized you were taller than him?

remember that date you offered to split the bill just to be polite but really didn’t want to because this guy had spent too long talking about his research work on fruit flies? a couple days later he texted you a picture of himself in middle school with an eyebrow piercing, so you ghosted him. and he called you out for ghosting but you were too chicken to reply, and since then you’ve not done it again.

remember why driving by that block of his studios on the corner of 15th made you tear up after a whole year had passed? the flashbacks of the sunsets from those windows and the echo of your voices against the wood floors, yoga on the stage and the bathtub with gold feet surrounded by brick walls.

remember when you were 24 and you spent a couple weeks texting and exchanging silly photos and he even drunk called you on new years eve and made you giggle? he drove an hour and a half to finally meet you, but then you learned he didn’t smoke weed (asthma) and he learned that you don’t drink (allergic), and it was over like that.

remember the time you thought things were going well with the one you had no doubts about, and then on a saturday in September that you two had plans to go to the beach he comes over and cries on your bed and dumps you? and you ask, did you bring my things? he did, most of it in a brown paper bag, and your toothbrush he had just said he liked to see at his place was sitting bristle faced down on your sandals. 

remember the time you said, no more white guys, and then you went on to date more white guys?

remember that day you were anxious about meeting your new boyfriend’s friends so you put a tab of acid on your tongue before driving to Matsuhisa? the words on the menu were wiggling. you ate the most expensive sushi dinner you’ve ever eaten and met that group for the first time having no clue who they were as the fans came rushing toward your circle holding fan art.

remember the time you were 25 on your couch watching a Netflix movie about Russian conspiracies and there was zero romance in the air but this guy turned and asked to kiss you? you didn’t want to ghost him, so you said instead that you weren’t ready to date. 

remember the night you returned to that house for the first time in two years and it was awkward and nostalgic? the drive was only 9 minutes instead of 30, the living room felt the same. you talked together like old friends about recent heartbreaks and lessons and past friends and fallouts. and you smiled when he said starting over is the best because not knowing what’s next is fun.

remember the time you were 27 and swore never another DJ, and then immediately started dating another DJ?

remember the time you both agreed to be just friends and then immediately weren’t just friends? he put his jacket on your shoulders at that house party and shared a bite of chocolate pie. the line for the bathroom was too long so you drove up the hills back to his house and tea turned into a night over and a night over turned into hours over the phone and late nights falling asleep on the studio couch while he tracked bass, walks in the hills and acai bowls in bed and gigs on weekday nights at ETA and lodge room. and now you're not more than friends or friends at all, but you own a pair of pink Nikes from that store on Melrose that he liked.

remember the time you swore no more broke depressed self-proclaimed creative geniuses, so the first date you agree to is this west side guy who grows his own garden and just bought a house in the hills? but then at this fancy rooftop overlooking the beach he jokes about his chronic depression and secret desire to quit the label so he can write fiction. a week later he sends you his competition submissions to read, and you know from the feeling in your stomach, that’s enough of that.

remember the song that reminds you of a winding afternoon drive against desert wind? 

remember the time you were 23 and that aries you planned a dinner party with loved you like hell but gave you hell too, and you realized quickly that loving like hell wasn’t enough? that loving his potential and loving his work and loving his cats and his roommate his incense his alien stories the way he held you and his wild pure smile wasn’t enough to stay. that was the first time you felt real heartbreak. (and the last time you dated an aries.)

remember every heartbreak after that one felt a little familiar, but each had its own particular flavor? there was the sour one, but you like sour, how it tickles your tongue. then there was the salty one, as if an entire bowl of ramen broth mixed with months and months of tears, turned cold. one was the kind of bitter that makes your jaw burn with regret. and one barely tasted like anything at all. the peculiar pleasure is that the flavors change as seasons turn. just like they say in those candy commercials, sour became sweet. and salty became an occasional craving the way you yearn for a bag of Vickies on random summer days. bland became comfort. and bitter? bitter became medicine like the herbs you sip to drain fire.

and the ones that you can still taste that were once grand painful stories or forever love and those poignant moments that have become buds on your tongue and the frequencies between joy and suffering that have moved through you slow and fast are merely words in this ode now.

----

Epilogue: now make it memes & tweets

#<3 #journal

[booitsash]

July 4th 2022

Remember the one that sparked up a conversation and start pressuring me into drinking and doing e together? He came to cloud pretty often and we start hanging out. On our first date he bought me to the Huntington library which I’ve never been. The first night, we ended up going to the mountain for a nice cruise. I thought this could have potential so I neglected S. I chose to grab poke on May 11th 2015 instead of celebrating with S. Turns out he was a player or enjoys seeking attention from other women. I was heartbroken during the time. My first broke me and I became empty. I deeply want to look for love in someone else but I am fearful. I couldn’t forget about him even when I am surrounded by people and parties. The things I do couldn’t make me forget. That lingering heartbreak for the first time made me felt so painful that I don’t ever want to recall if I ever end up with someone else. I became more selective and wary of others. It took awhile for me to accept S until I notice that he purely want the best for me. I had so much doubt with everyone’s intention but he was the only person that made me feel safe. He didn’t judge me, he was supportive of all of my decision and really made me feel like he loved me for who I am. Never in my life have I felt this much sincere, kindness and love from someone outside from family. He showed me that I am capable of loving someone so much that it feels unconditional. We really had our ups and downs, but I’ve always want to believe the good in him. I lose a bit of trust over every single lie I found out. After we broke up for the second time, I thought that this is the end of it. I start hanging out with M and enjoy his companionship. One day he got really drunk and bought up the past which seems like he was hurt when I didn’t want to talk to him. We start talking a lot and start dating after I told him that I had feels. He wanted it to be exclusive so we gave it a try. However, the way he treated me was not exactly what I expect in a relationship. I felt more like a bro to him than his date. I ended it after 3 weeks. Things got out of control and he was extremely defensive every time I would talk about my feelings. He took me out on my bday to grab high tea in Pasadena in 2017. Even though we weren’t together, we spent a lot of time together. A majority of the holidays would be with him. I remember coming over for thanksgiving, new year eve, and on his birthday. As soon as I felt anything, he would ruin it. His friends talked about how he kissed someone on his birthday. I felt disgusted and walked out after he said something mean to me. How can I allow myself to feel anything for someone like this? I told myself that I cannot let myself fall for someone like this. After S and I truly ended everything, I start talking to M more. M was there for good company and always listen to my sob stories. He always was there when I need to someone to call or drink with. We studied together and start doing many things together. Gradually, I became curious of the girls he dated during the time we became friends. He mentioned a girl named JT & CN. He introduced me to his friends and one of them is a gambler while the other one is a fuck boy. I felt skeptical and always have a firm believe that your closest friends are a reflection of who you are. I know it may not be true but you have to share some similarities in each friend you have in order to be able to do what you both love together. There were so many red flags hanging on each direction. It seems like I misread his actions. He didn’t want to pursue me and he said he only go along when someone take the initiation. It seems like I forced him towards dating. I am unsure of his feelings and it always make me think. Sometimes the thought can be overwhelming to the point that I can’t sleep or I would cry out of frustration. I hate the fact that I couldn’t figure it out. It leads to the point that I had to ask him over dinner. He straight up said he’s not looking for anything serious because his priorities are family and career. I understand but I couldn’t help it. I was sad and drank a bit too much. I didn’t think I would pour out my inner negative feelings. I was slightly aggressive when I came over. In the morning, we talked about it. Wasn’t sure if he was joking but he said I was acting like Amber Heard. All he wanted to do was sleep but I was the one that initiated it. I remember it clearly when he said that if I want to look for something serious then I should look somewhere else because he wants nothing serious. He wants companionship and what we had was companionship. I guess we never had an intimacy connection. It really torn me. Now that I think about it, it seems like he never wanted anything deeper because he couldn’t see me as a potential partner. I wonder what it is that he’s looking for. It angers me that he doesn’t think I am enough. I feel like my pride and ego have a small stain on it. I feel a slight pain in my chest. I don’t know how to explain this. I remember he told me that he loved me on the phone when I was driving home from cloud. He told me again when he was in Cancun and asked if I would give up hookah for him. We start being more intimate and start holding hands, kissing, and just things like a couple. He even called our hangout as a date instead of a hangout. I felt my heart falling a little. As I open more, I was wishfully think that it could potentially lead to somewhere. I was all in my own head that I ignored the brutal reality. He said I was the one that initiated it and he didn’t do anything. He could continue to be friends because he didn’t feel the guilt. The more I think the more I feel like he never liked me. When I joke about dating and stuffs, he would tell me, let’s not put a label on it. He said we’re definitely not FWB. I am astonishingly shock and shives to think that this is really happening to me. I knew I have to ask to finally get the answer I’ve been wanting to know. The answer was not what I wanted but it was the truth. I needed to know so I can move on with my life. I have done and said more than enough. If I ask myself how I can even continue our friendship after what he said to myself, I don’t think I can find it inside myself to face him again. 

[galwaygremlin]

need to go to harbor freight. want to go to harbor freight. will fit in and be completely at home in a harbor freight. cannot summon the energy to Leave My House, Drive, Talk To People, And Purchase Things

#houston we have a problem #i need bungee cords and towing straps and i might pick up an extra screwdriver because i don't think i have the one i need for a thing #this is my only chance to go this week because i only had a six-hour today but i have 12s and a 13 the rest of the week #maybe i'll fix my brake lights first and the energy of Already Being In My Truck will carry me to the hardware store #there's a partial road closure right on the feeder which is why i don't want to drive i already had to contend with it once today #cannot stand people. flashing red means TAKE TURNS MOTHERFUCKERS #it's a REALLY EASY PATTERN TO FOLLOW #i also had a fuckin Experience at the bank which kinda sapped all my social strength for today #half hour driving. six at work. twenty minutes at the bank that included parking my deadname technology and an Encounter #fifteen more getting lost on my way back to the highway #(i ended up in pasadena. what the fuck) #thirty more home #with an extra ten spent in traffic because no one in houston can drive #so that was forty #now i have shit to do that requires putting on a bra and leaving the house and i don't wanna #ugh. bank again then hardware store then gas then idk dinner? #oh and i have to send mail to my father. and call two insurance companies. should probably stop by the fire department for Job Reasons too

[writer-in-theory]

All Too Well (Spencer Reid x Reader)

summary: reader sees spencer years after their college relationship wearing their scarf. they remember how everything ended and how they both have learned to exist without each other. series summary: a series of oneshots to celebrate the release of red (taylor's version). 19 songs, 19 fics. pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader category: all too well levels of angst. all too well levels of no happy ending. content warnings: language, discussions of bullying and abuse (spencer’s past), insecurities, breakups, sexual reference (it’s implied what they do) word count: 10.4k for the 10 minutes of all too well that’ll crush our hearts in two weeks a/n: we made it!! this is easily one of my favorite songs on the album and i think it’s easy to tell since this is double the length of all the others. so, um, sorry about that. i picture this being s5 spencer, at least in the present time of the fic.

series masterlist masterlist send me a request!

“I forgot about you long enough to forget why I needed to...”

There was a time when you wished for an eidetic memory. It would have helped during those long nights spent studying in college or when you inevitably forgot the birthday of someone you knew. Now, years down the road, you were grateful that wishes on shooting stars didn’t come true.

Six years after the breakup, you had nearly forgotten how Spencer Reid broke you to pieces. It had once felt like an irreparable break, a deep scar that would constantly leak life-blood no matter how much you tried to stop it. Maybe it was because you stayed in Pasadena, the city you’d met and fell in love with the beautiful genius, or maybe it was because he’d been the first person you truly loved. It felt impossible once upon a time, but now you woke up and went to bed without once thinking of him.

That is, until life decided that was just too easy for you.

The day itself started out strange. You’d made your way down to the CalTech campus, dropping your bag off at your office only to find a voicemail from your boss telling you to meet him first thing that morning. It wasn’t like you were apathetic toward the situation; it was horrifying what the recent serial killer was doing to those poor women. Still, you couldn’t help but be annoyed that the FBI would be interrupting your lecture. They promised your boss they wouldn’t disturb the learning process, but you knew college students. It would absolutely take over their attention as soon as the agents walked through the door. That was the only reason you hated the idea, not at all because you had a bad history with the FBI.

You were determined to not let this ruin your lecture, the FBI could not take anything else from you, consequences be damned. It was a determination that remained fiery and warmed you through the cooling Autumn walk from your office to the lecture hall. It kept you moving quickly around the room, organizing and writing all of the information you’d need on the blackboard, proud when you kept your hands steady enough for the words to be legible.

Then your students began filing in. It was only the ones who showed up far too early to everything, much like you’d done in school. Then you saw the first person you didn’t recognize slipping through the door; a blond woman with such bright blue eyes you could see them from where you stood. Then an absolutely gorgeous man who was clearly teasing the guy next to him, who was-

No, absolutely fucking not. You spun on your heels quickly, feeling your sense of fight-or-flight kicking in. Eyes darting around the room, you searched for another exit, a way to get out of this room because you hadn’t been this close to him in six years and he was still capable of taking your breath away. Your body still remembered what it felt like to be held by him and even now yearned to slot itself perfectly into his arms as if that was the place you were meant to be. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly as though that were your only lifeline left in the middle of the fucking ocean. Maybe it was, because your legs shook and you weren’t sure they could carry your weight if you let go.

You would find out though because that familiar voice was calling out your name. Feeling like you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning, you pulled as genuine a smile as you could manage and turned back to face the trio of agents. At least he seemed as shaken as you did, amber eyes comically wide and lips parted in shock. He looked different than when you’d last seen him, of course, he had. His hair had gotten longer—before, you would have been overjoyed he listened to your advice on the matter—and he no longer wore the glasses you knew him to always have on.

That wasn’t the worst part of it all though. No, you could handle the fact that your ex-boyfriend, the man that destroyed your heart in a way you hadn’t thought possible, somehow got more attractive. What you couldn’t handle was the purple scarf hung loosely around his neck. Memories of you wrapping that same scarf around him when he was cold flooded your mind, making you wish you had amnesia. He’d always been much colder than you, not used to the chill but still protesting taking any of your warm clothes. You hadn’t known where that scarf went, but now you were staring at it still wrapped around him and you understood how some people literally died of a broken heart. It burned in your chest, filling you with an urge to reach in and discard it because how could this much physical pain exist just from seeing someone?

“Dr. Calwell told me why you guys were here. I just ask that you try not to distract my students too much,” you spoke, and any other time you’d wince at how robotic your voice sounded. Now it was a victory because it didn’t show him the pain taking over your body now.

The other two nodded, giving you quick platitudes and promises not to be a disruption before finding seats in the back of the room. Spencer didn’t move, still just looking at you with an unreadable expression. That hurt more than you’d like to admit; there was once a time when you knew every one of his microexpression but now he was little more than a stranger.

“Y/N,” he spoke again and this time your resolve cracked in a way that infuriated you. How dare he still have a hold on you after all these years?

“Dr. Reid, I have a class to teach,” you spoke dully, turning again to gather the lecture plan you had in your bag.

“Do you remember anything about us?”

You mourned the crinkles that formed in your lecture plan as your hand curled around it. Strangely the now crumpled paper now looked a lot how you felt, irreparably changed and easily discarded by the man right behind you. He wore your scarf like a trophy, a reminder that he’d had you and chose to give you up. You could’ve had me, Spencer, you could’ve had more than a scarf.

“I was there, Spencer. I remember everything, all of it,” you spat as you turned to face him again, thankful it was still early enough that there weren’t more students in the room. “I remember all too well what you did to me.”

“What happened wasn’t all my fault, Y/N,” he tried again and you couldn’t help but disagree. This man had broken you, left you with once-happy memories that were now tainted and poisonous. “I miss you.”

It couldn’t be anything but Spencer’s fault that you two were standing together for the first time in six years.

“Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place, and I can picture it after all these days...”

Autumn was always one of your favorite seasons. Back home you could see visible signs of change; leaves melting into warm colors and falling like snow to the ground. Sunrises would come later and would be more vibrantly pink and orange, bathing the entire sky in the colors of the leaves. It was your second Autumn in Pasadena and you were beginning to think you would always miss the way your hometown embraced the full swath of the season.

With Autumn came midterm exams and so many papers due that you were sure you’d never sleep again. As time went on, your hours of sleep decreased and the number of coffees you drank increased until there was a good chance your bloodstream was nothing but caffeine.

It was impossible to forget that day, though. After staying up nearly all night studying for your midterm, you’d managed to fall asleep at your desk and sleep right through half of it. With panic surging through your body, you got dressed and sprinted through the chilled Autumn morning to make it to the lecture hall.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, you’re too late. You’re going to have to take the fail,” your professor told you, practically stabbing the words straight through your chest.

“I can’t take a failing grade for this, Sir. Please, is there anything else I can do?” you begged, thinking of how you would tell your family about this. They always expected so much out of you, how could you possibly tell them about a failure of this magnitude?

“Your only other option is to go through a remediation course with one of our TAs,” he explained, “It will be a couple of weeks outside of class, and at the end you will have a chance to take the midterm. Keep in mind that remediation is meant to be intensive, this would be a lot of extra work on you.”

There was no other option in your mind. If it added onto your stress, so be it. You could have time to relax after you graduated, but until then you would do what it took to keep your grades high. CalTech had an amazing doctorate program for chemistry and it would take a nearly perfect portfolio to land a spot.

That was how you met Spencer Reid. All of the TAs were graduate students, but with slicked back hair, large glasses, and an adorable button-nose, you couldn’t help but think he looked younger than you. Of course, you already knew about Spencer. He was a living legend at CalTech, having started when he was 12 and having gotten a PhD by 16. The man was your age and already working toward his second doctorate. You assumed he’d be a pompous asshole.

So while everyone else in your class was finishing up the midterm, you walked alongside Spencer Reid to a portion of the library where you could talk. You should’ve been the nervous one, but his long fingers shook as he pulled out the necessary books and worksheets. He licked his lips a little more than normal and his eyes continuously flitted up to meet yours before immediately looking back down. The poor kid, you had to put him out of his misery.

“Hi, I’m Y/N L/N,” you introduced, waving a little from across the table.

He smiled, a little one with so much tension around his lips it looked like he might’ve been stifling it. “I’m Spencer Reid.”

“Well, with you at the reins I have no choice but to pass,” you joked and were pleasantly surprised when he seemed more bashful about it than arrogant. “I do feel confident about the material though, so I’m not sure the whole remediation thing is necessary.”

“Dr. Calwell said you failed the midterm.” Ouch. For some reason, you didn’t want him to think of you as anything less than brilliant.

“I didn’t show up to the midterm. I would’ve passed if I had, maybe even have gotten the top score.” You didn’t truly believe that; you knew better than to think you were always the smartest person in the room.

“Could I test that theory?” Spencer immediately blurted out, then his eyes widened and he added, “Not that I don’t believe you, but I want to stay on Dr. Calwell’s good side before my thesis defense.”

“So what’s it like being a genius?” You hadn’t meant to ask the question, but once it was out in the open you couldn’t help but want an answer.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s gotta be a lot of pressure, right? Practically everyone on campus knows your name.”

“Are you stalling studying chemistry?”

A laugh slipped from you then and you shrugged, leaning forward in your seat. “Maybe a little. I am curious, though. I don’t know if I could handle it.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment then, eyes taking on a faraway look as though he’d never actually thought about this before. Then his gaze snapped back to yours, his honeyed eyes taking in everything about your expression. “I guess I’m worried I won’t live up to everyone’s expectations of me. School’s been the only thing I’m good at for so long that I’m scared to try doing anything else.”

“Well, you could always be a professor,” you tried, immediately laughing at the way Spencer’s nose crinkled at the idea.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for constant public speaking. I don’t do well talking to strangers.”

“You’re doing just fine with me,” you pointed out, trying to help the cause.

“I guess you’re right,” he admitted softly, and damn did you love that smile. You hoped in your couple of weeks together that you could elicit more of those smiles.

“If we’re going to be working together, Spencer, you’ve gotta know that I’m always right.”

“It’s statistically possible to get 60% of questions correct on an exam if you guess on each one,” he answered, and the blunt honesty was enough to pull a laugh from you loud enough that the students at the table next to you flashed you an annoyed look.

“Okay, I like you, Spencer Reid.”

“And there we are again on that little town street, you almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me...”

“Hey, Wonder Boy,” you greeted, plopping down in the hard library chair and wincing at the sting of impact.

“You’re in a good mood,” Spencer noted, looking up from his notes and smiling at you. A month later, you had successfully saved your grade (and learned a thing or two from Spencer) and made a new friend in the Caltech resident genius. The pair of you often studied together, you with your undergrad chemistry work and him typing up his chemistry doctoral thesis. Sometimes you could help him with the wording of things, or he could help you with a particularly brutal problem, but most of the time you sat in each other’s company, ankles tangled together under the table.

That wasn’t what you wanted to do today, though.

“Remember how you saved my life?” you began, watching the pure confusion melt over Spencer’s expression.

“I have an eidetic memory and I don’t recall any such occasion, Y/N.”

“You’re mistaken then, because I definitely remember you saving my organic chemistry grade thus saving my college career, allowing my hopes and dreams to still come true, thus saving my life.”

“Then yes, I remember saving your life,” Spencer chuckled.

“I want to do something for you in return.”

“Y/N, you really don’t have to. It was literally my job to help you.”

“You’re right, as always, but I want to,” you answered, deciding then that the word ‘no’ wasn’t on a list of words you understood for the time being. “You know how you said the only reason you don’t drive is that you don’t have anyone to teach you?”

“Yes?”

“Well, I want to teach you.”

“I don’t want to make you do something like that for me,” Spencer protested, but he shut his book anyway. “I don’t even have my temporary permit or a car.”

“That takes an hour to get especially since I know you know the info on the test. You can use my car, and does it really look like you’re making me do it? C’mon, Spence. One driving lesson? And if you hate it I’ll never bring it up again and you can keep biking to campus.”

That was how, three hours later, you sat in the passenger seat as Spencer drove your car around a small neighborhood you’d found.

“How’d you know where to go?” Spencer asked, not daring to take his eyes off the road. “This is the perfect spot to practice, but it’s so far from campus. How did you find it?”

“Don’t you ever just explore the city?” The silence was a resounding no. “I love to just drive or walk around Pasadena, sometimes even LA if I have enough time. It’s fun to get lost in a part of the city you don’t know, then you get to explore more of it trying to find your way back.”

“Isn’t that terrifying? What if you really get lost?” Spencer dared a glance at you as he turned onto a road just outside of the neighborhood; not busy but still having enough traffic to be a challenge.

“Then it takes me a bit longer to get home.”

“Y/N, you have to know how dangerous that is.”

“Of course it is,” you answered, and Spencer really didn’t like that one.

“Y/N!” he protested, lips parted in horror.

“What’s life without a little risk?” you countered. “The chaos of the universe is so beautiful sometimes, you know? Two people can do the exact same thing and still end up with wildly different outcomes. I can take the same risks as someone else and end up okay, and I’d like to think it’s because the universe wants me to be okay. I don’t know,” you punctuated the phrase with a shrug, “maybe it’s a little silly. Maybe I’m just putting myself in danger for no reason like an idiot.”

Spencer turned his head to fully look at you then, eyes alight with sudden anger. “You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but you’re not an idiot.”

“What am I then?”

Spencer’s gaze softened to something you’d never seen on him before. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve called it love. All you knew was that one look from him made you feel like a comet, a beautiful phenomenon for him to gaze upon.

Until out of the corner of your eyes you noticed the quickly approaching red light. “Spencer!” you squealed, hand reaching forward to grip the dashboard as he slammed to a stop. Your heart was racing, suddenly breathless at the thought of how badly that could’ve turned out.

He seemed breathless too, his usually perfectly slicked back hair falling into his face a little. He was still staring at you, and you wondered if he was speechless because of the danger or because of you. Reaching up, you brushed a lock of hair away from his face, tucking it back behind his ear and restoring his always pristine look.

“See what I mean about risk-taking?” you spoke, each word breathy as you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away. You thought of the chemistry notes sitting in your bag, about how certain particles were meant to come together. They would try whatever it would take to come together, constantly pulled together by an unknown force. That was what you felt now with Spencer, your head leaning forward until your lips touched his. It was gentle; a kiss filled with so much care you wondered if he thought of you as something to be treasured.

“I do see what you mean,” Spencer told you, a smile lighting up his entire expression. This was happiness in its purest form.

Then a car’s horn blared from behind you, causing your body to jerk and twist forward again. Oh, the light was green. How long had it been like that? Spencer continued driving, the two of you in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. It hadn’t even been obvious before that you felt this way for him, just now did you realize how happy it made you that you knew what Spencer’s lips felt like on your own.

“That was my first kiss,” Spencer admitted, maybe feeling more confident now that he could focus on the road instead of on you. His cheeks were flushed pink, though, and you reached out to squeeze the crook of his elbow once, light enough to not interfere with his driving but enough to let him know you were there.

“Really? I hope it was everything you thought it’d be.” The idea that you were the first person, the only person, who knew what it was like to kiss Spencer Reid sent a thrill through you.

“All and more.” You wondered if this was how you looked after your first kiss too; trying and failing to suppress the wide smile, eyes shining and cheeks pink. It made you want to experience so much more with him. Before today you hadn’t thought about what it would be like to share your life with him, but now sitting in a car beside Spencer it was all you could imagine.

“'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night, we're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light...”

It was the happiest year of your life, that first one you got to spend with Spencer. It was a whirlwind of smiles, laughter, and kisses that grew more confident than the first. It was the kind of love that belonged in a fairytale, the kind that made you wake up in the morning and hope that it wasn’t all a dream.

By November of the following year, the two of you had decided to take the next step. A friend of yours was unexpectedly leaving the city and needed someone to finish out the lease on their apartment. You’d mentioned it to Spencer, thinking he might’ve known someone who needed a new place to live. Turns out he did; it just came in the form of asking you to move into said apartment with him.

“How many books do you have?” you groaned as you picked up a box labelled as such, already feeling the way your arms would be gelatinous by the time everything was moved into the apartment.

“Fifty-seven,” Spencer piped up from the van, picking up a small box because he needed a free hand to unlock the door.

“Of course you know the answer to that.” You were no longer surprised by what Spencer knew, having learned a long time ago how impressive his mind was.

“You don’t?” The words were so innocent and genuine that you couldn’t help but pause on the stairs to look at him.

“No, Spencer, I don’t know off the top of my head how many books I have. I love that you do, though,” you spoke before realizing what you’d said. Spencer realized though, he always did.

“Love?” he’d practically squeaked the words out, surprise written all over his expression.

You considered it for a moment, head tilted in wonder. Every morning you would wake up and look forward to going to class every day because it meant seeing Spencer in the library. He would walk you home at the end of every day even if he hadn’t needed to be on campus that day, at first citing the dangers of walking home alone at night and then admitting he wanted to have more time with you. Dates spent in one of your apartments when he got too overwhelmed to be in public crowds, or picnics in the local park where you got to show off your cooking because—while he’d never admit it—he adored that you cooked for him because no one really had before. Sticky notes clung to nearly everything you had with little doodles or sweet words he’d thought of in the moment but had been too nervous to say aloud.

“Yes, Spencer, love,” you told him, “I love you.”

It was possible you broke your boyfriend. He stood there on the stares, hands curled into the box he was holding and face frozen in shock. Then the familiar lower lip quiver and his eyes glassed over. “Hey, hey, hey, why’re you crying?” you exclaimed, setting your own box down in favor of backtracking on the steps until you were the same height as him. You reached up, gently wiping the escapee tears away with your fingers before resting your hands on his cheeks. “Talk to me, Spencer. If that was too much, or you don’t feel the same way, it’s okay, alright? We can forget I said anything. It’s okay, Spence.”

“No, I don’t want to forget,” he forced out, a small embarrassed pull of his lips came as his voice came out wet with the unshed tears.

“Then talk to me.”

You waited patiently as he gathered himself. It was lucky the apartment complex didn’t seem to be busy because you two stood on those main stairs for a while as he got his thoughts together. Being open about his feelings had always been tough for him, so you could wait here all day if you needed to.

“I didn’t think I was meant to be loved by someone like you.”

The words burned through your chest; a hot poker shoved deep and twisting for maximal pain. You’d known Spencer was insecure about a lot of things. He’d always look down when people mentioned his intelligence as if waiting for a blow that didn’t come. His shoulders would curl forward and he’d keep his hands up in front of his stomach, physical measures of protecting himself in the only way he knew how.

“C’mon,” you finally forced out, having a plan but also needing the rest of the walk up the stairs to compose yourself. It wouldn’t do to let him see you cry, not after he’d been so open with you finally. If he saw you crying, then Spencer would shut down the entire conversation about himself in lew of making you feel better. So, you picked the box back up with one arm (even though it killed your arm to do so) and took Spencer’s open hand in the other, guiding him up to your new apartment.

You took the keys from him and unlocked the door, walking inside first and setting the box down wherever you could. The apartment was beautiful; a clear step up from your own previous space. You left the lights off, knowing sometimes all of the bright lights could make a person feel more exposed than anything. The darkness was a comfort, but you also knew Spencer was uncomfortable with total darkness.

The only solution you had was guiding him into the kitchen and flicking open the empty fridge to bathe the small room in the dull light.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked you, eyes narrowed and eyebrows pushed together in his confusion.

Instead of answering, you guided his hands to your hips and wrapped your own up around his neck. “Dance with me?” you whispered in his ear.

“I don’t know how to dance,” were his soft words back.

“Yes, you do. Trust yourself,” you whispered back, helping him out by beginning to sway. He caught on and joined you, the two of you swaying and stepping around your new kitchen.

“There’s no music.”

“Who needs music when we have each other?” you countered and it seemed that was enough for Spencer because he didn’t answer again. Finally, finally, you dared touch the statement he’d made on the stairs. “You are so unbelievably worthy of love, Spencer. I hate that anyone made you feel like you weren’t because I feel so lucky to get to love you.” You tucked your head against his neck in the hopes of hiding the tears sprouting unbidden from your eyes, though were sure he could hear them in your voice. “I’ll tell you every day if that’s what it takes. I love you so much, Spencer, and you are meant to be loved.”

“You’re so cheesy,” Spencer laughed wetly over his own tears, arms squeezing you closer to him if that were even possible.

“I know, it’s my specialty. I do mean it though. You’re remarkable, Spence,” you answered and you could feel the inhalation in his chest from his practiced response. “Not just because of your brain, silly. I love everything about you. You’re sweet, you’re so kind to everyone even strangers. You’re so funny it catches me off-guard sometimes and you are so determined to help the world that I have no doubt you’re going to someday.”

“Y/N.” No one had ever said your name like that before. No one would say it like that again for years after him. His fingers were curled tightly into the fabric of your shirt, you two still swaying in the dull refrigerator light but not moving much beyond it.

“Yeah?” Your voice was small, unsure. What if it was too much? You’d said the word so many times, what if he didn’t feel the same way back?

“There are approximately 171,146 words in the English language, and yet there are none good enough to explain how much I love you, Y/N.” A short, surprised laugh slipped from you as the words registered in your ears. Spencer loved you. He loved you, and you were living together, and maybe that fairytale ending could happen after all.

Eventually, you’d go back to finish moving the rest of your belongings into the apartment. For now, though, both of you were content with dancing around your kitchen and whispering the words back to each other in as many ways as you knew how.

“Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red. You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed...”

“What if she hates me?”

The question had sounded in the car so many times that Spencer already had an answer ready for you. He rolled his eyes playfully and squeezed the hand resting on his leg, saying, “She’s going to love you.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” Currently, you were driving you and your boyfriend to Las Vegas, where you would eventually meet his family. The two of you had been talking about going on a roadtrip for winter break, and somehow it turned into him asking you to meet one of the most important people in his life: his mom.

You’d never dated anyone long enough to meet their family before. Even then, you never pictured meeting them like this, with careful words on what to do if she had a bad episode while you two were there. Spencer had been so cautious with even telling you about where his mom was living that you’d never expected the hurried question to come, telling you that he wanted his mom to know about you.

It was safe to say you were terrified, desperately wanting to make a good impression on the woman who’d gone through so much while raising Spencer.

“Y/N, she’s going to love you because she’s going to see what an amazing person you are. She’ll see how happy you make me and she’ll have no choice but to love you,” Spencer reassured you, drawing little patterns on your hand from the passenger seat, keeping it resting in his lap.

Time flew in a rush until suddenly you were walking into the Bennington Sanitarium with Spencer, following one of the nurses over to where Spencer’s mom was currently in her room curled up with a book.

The relationship between a mother and son was a special thing, especially when they only had each other for so many years. You watched from just inside the doorway as both faces lit up. His mom hugged him tightly, immediately commenting on how thin he still was. “I always knew it was all that coffee you’re drinking, Spencer. You need to eat some real food,” she admonished and Spencer only laughed, shrugging and tucking his hands into his pockets.

“I tell him that almost every day,” you couldn’t help but pipe up, watching how the bright expression never once dulled as she turned her attention over to you.

“You must be this Y/N I keep hearing about,” she spoke up, waving you further into the room.

You reached out for a handshake but just as quickly Spencer’s mom was pulling you into a hug; you could understand now where Spencer got his hugging skills from. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Reid.”

“Please, only the pushover nurses call me that. It’s Diana.”

“Mom,” Spencer groaned, looking like he wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or surprised by the words, “you can’t say that about your nurses. They’re taking care of you.”

Diana only ignored him, keeping her gaze focused on you. If you thought Spencer had a look that pierced right through you, then Diana’s stare didn’t even need to pierce, just floating right through you as if she already knew everything about you. You knew Spencer wrote to her daily, maybe she had heard about you from him before? “I’m happy Spencer finally brought you around to meet me. I wanted to see the person who was taking care of my boy so well.”

“Mom!”

With as much heat rushing to your face, you were sure your cheeks were bright red. “He takes care of me too,” you returned as Diana guided you over to the empty seat beside her chair, leaving Spencer to sit on the end of the bed across from you two.

“He better. He knows better than to throw away something so good for him.” You laughed, smiling wide at the embarrassed look only deepening on Spencer’s face.

It would grow worse when he realized what Diana had grabbed. “Mom, no,” he tried, hands covering his face for a moment but dropping uselessly to his lap when that didn’t stop what was happening. “Y/N doesn’t need to see that.”

Finally, you looked to see what Diana was holding in her hands, and you felt a playful smile pull on your lips. It was a photo album. “Oh, yes I do.”

“Y/N, please,” Spencer tried, but it was too late. Diana was already flipping open the book (thankfully for Spencer’s sake skipping over the baby photos).

“Wait, is that Spence playing baseball?” you gasped, your finger pointing to a picture in the top corner of a page.

Spencer groaned and flopped back on the bed, keeping his hands firmly planted over his face. Diana’s expression took on a fondness as she brushed her fingers over the image. “His father made him play T-ball when he was a kid. My Spencer is good at a lot of things, but baseball’s not one of them.”

You tried to picture this little Spencer playing baseball. His hair was cut not too dissimilar to how it was now, clunkier glasses perched on his nose. All of the dirt, and sports in general, no you couldn’t see it. “I played soccer as a kid for a while,” you added to the story, causing Spencer to sit up and watch you, “I quickly realized I had a greater affinity for the library than the soccer pitch.”

“Crash could’ve used you growing up, I think. You would’ve been good friends.”

You watched as Spencer’s expression tightened. The smile never left his face—though you could guess this was more for his mom’s benefit than anything else—but you saw the signs of his mind drifting off somewhere else nonetheless. You didn’t know the details of Spencer’s childhood, but you recognized the leftover habits from a person who’d been bullied.

Maybe he needed a break from reminiscing about such a painful time for him. He might also appreciate some alone time with his mother. So you stood, telling him, “I think I’m gonna find a bathroom. Stay here with your mom, I’ll ask someone on the staff for help.”

You took your time in the bathroom, stalling by fixing your already perfect hair in the mirror and washing your hands for longer than normal. When you made your way back to Diana’s room, you really hadn’t meant to overhear their conversation. Still, the door was propped open so there was no way not to hear when Spencer said, “I want to marry Y/N, Mom.”

Your hand covered your mouth, desperate not to make a noise and reveal what you’d heard. He wanted to marry you? Suddenly it was easy to picture the two of you having a small wedding just with close friends and family. It would be here in Las Vegas so his mom could be there, and it would be just like the wedding you’d always dreamed of.

When enough time had passed and you successfully schooled your expression back to normal, you walked back into the room. You took in Spencer’s bright smile when he noticed you returning, trying not to picture how he’d smile when he saw you walking down the aisle.

You two stayed with Diana until visitor hours were over. You talked about anything and everything with her. She seemed especially fond of bragging about her son, and you found you also enjoyed that subject. When you two finally got back to the hotel, you laid in bed curled up with Spencer trying not to imagine when he’d propose to you.

“You told me 'bout your past thinking your future was me...”

You only broached the topic of Spencer’s childhood once you were back in Pasadena. It had been a casual night in for the both of you, still on winter break and having minimal responsibilities to tend to. You ended up curled around Spencer for most of the day, talking about anything from your favorite books to what superpower you’d have if you could pick one (barring the obvious ones, it had to be something unique).

And when the conversation lulled into that comfortable silence you found peace in, you propped your chin up against him and asked the question. “Spencer?”

“Y/N?”

“Who hurt you so badly?”

His hand paused its movement against your face, dropping to hold your own hand instead. He didn’t look at you and instead stared at your intertwined hands. You could feel the way his heart began to race and you wondered if now wasn’t the right time to ask.

Then, he sighed, swallowed thickly, and asked a question of his own. “Do you know why my mom calls me Crash?”

“She said because you’re clumsy.”

“That’s true, but it’s not...” Spencer winced, clearly struggling for the right words.

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, needing him to know that he would always have you there to support him.

“She used to get confused a lot. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes she accused me of working for the government against her. She’d...” Your heart broke as Spencer snapped his lips shut, unable to say the words aloud. “She never remembered how I got the bruises. I didn’t want to hurt her, so I said I fell or ran into something. She’d laugh and tell me to be more careful with myself.”

“Spencer,” you gasped, trying to reign in the tears but watching your vision blur anyway. You tried to picture that little kid with glasses, dutifully protecting his mother by hiding the fact that she’d been the one to hurt him. You hated that it was so easy to imagine; Spencer always tried to put his loved ones above himself, of course, he’d learned that behavior so young.

“The kids at school gave me plenty of bruises too,” he continued, and as much as you wanted to comfort him you knew better than to interrupt now. “I don’t know if they were jealous about the attention the teachers were giving me, or if they thought a twelve-year-old in high school was an easy target. They’d beat me up whenever they had the chance. Teachers saw it, of course they did but to them, it was just high school kids being kids.

“The worst was in my senior year. This girl, one of the prettiest girls in the school, told me to meet her under the bleachers. That was where kids went to kiss, and I thought that’s what she wanted. Half the football team was waiting for me. They, uh, they stripped me down to nothing, tied me to the goalpost, and left me there.”

Never once did you imagine kids could be so cruel. You thought of your own high school experience, how there had been rough moments but nothing ever so cruel and horrific as that. You thought of the loner kid of your school, the one the popular kids picked on the most. Suddenly when you thought of him, it was Spencer’s face you saw. Your tears were pooling on his chest but you didn’t dare move to wipe them away.

“Did someone find you?” You were scared of the answer.

You were right to be scared of the answer. “I was out there for hours until I managed to free myself. They’d taken my clothes but it was the middle of the night so no one saw me when I was walking home.” One singular laugh ripped out of Spencer, but it was more sad than anything else. “My mom never noticed I was gone, she was having one of her episodes.”

Everything Spencer had ever said or done made sense. You thought of the day you first told him you loved him, how he didn’t believe you at first. How it had been so easy for him to declare that he didn’t deserve your love. Finally, you moved, pulling Spencer closer and brushing over his hair. You kissed every inch of him that peeked out of his pajamas, needing him to know how much love was in store for him.

You hated every single person that had a hand in breaking Spencer. You didn’t say anything for a while, focusing on holding Spencer as he worked out the rest of his cries. What was there to say to that? What could you say to a young man who had been tortured by his peers, who had been abandoned by the very people meant to protect him?

“No one is ever going to hurt you again,” you whispered against him when the tears finally ebbed away and dried sticky against both of your bodies. “I promise, Spencer, I’ll never let anyone hurt you, not like that. You’ve had enough pain for a thousand lifetimes.”

“I’ve never told anyone about that,” Spencer admitted and those words only served to break your heart more. He’d gone years walking silently through the world, clinging to all of that pain he’d been forced to deal with as such as young kid. It wasn’t fair, you decided, and you wished there was a way for you to go back in time and be that friend he needed.

“Crash could’ve used you growing up, I think. You would’ve been good friends.”

The easy words Diana had spoken to you took on a new weight now.

“Thank you for telling me,” you responded, drawing circles over his chest and trying to force images of the deep bruises out of your mind.

You would hold each other for the rest of the night, both of you unable to sleep but not having the energy to discuss much of anything else. Every once in a while he’d ask you something about your own childhood, and you’d try to come up with the happiest memories you had. He deserved to hear something happy after all he’d been through.

You wished you could’ve been the light for him sooner, but you would be that now.

“After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own...”

It was the night after Spencer earned his second doctorate that the two of you decided to give each other every part of yourselves.

You’d dutifully gotten dressed up that day, trying to soothe Spencer’s nerves because he was a literal genius, of course, they would support his thesis. You’d read it too, and while some of it you didn’t quite understand you recognized the skill there. You’d walked hand-in-hand with Spencer to campus, never letting go until he walked into that room to be judged by a panel of faculty members.

It felt like forever until he emerged from that room again, a wide grin on his face. He’d scooped you up into the tightest hug he’d ever given you, pressing light kisses across your face and thanking you for being his support through all of it. He told you then he was thinking of going back for a third, to which you told him he had to wait until you got your first.

The two of you opted not to go out to dinner, rather making a meal together and sharing it at the kitchen table that you’d bought together when you took him to a flea market for the first time.

After dinner was cleaned up, the two of you ended up curled in bed together again. You’d kissed him, sweet at first and then with growing intensity. It wasn’t long before you were straddling his lap, hands pressed to his chest while his own wrapped over yours.

“I love you, Y/N,” Spencer told you, and the words never failed to make your stomach flutter, “I want you, all of you.”

“Then have me,” you whispered. It was sweet in the way only Spencer could manage, taking care of you with such gentleness that had you completely melted in his arms. And when it was over, you laid tucked into his side, his arm wrapped around you as though to protect you from the world.

“Have you thought about the future?” Spencer asked quietly, face still flushed and eyes shining as he looked at you.

“What about it?”

“Do you want kids?”

The question surprised you. Never once had this conversation ever been brought up, but it was just a testament to the closeness you had with Spencer. “One day, I do,” you answered, “What about you?”

“I think I do. I never considered it before, there was so much to worry about.” You knew he was talking about his mother’s schizophrenia. Spencer had mentioned it before that his greatest fear was his own mind turning on him, how he hadn’t wanted to pass that weight on to anyone else. “I can picture it now. We’d have to have at least two, I don’t want them growing up an only child.”

He’d said ‘we’. As much as the thought scared you, it was easy to sink into this fantasy with him because you could picture having kids with Spencer too. “Our two baby geniuses. A boy and a girl, for good measure,” you supplied, all too ready to continue the fantasy.

“I’d love to have a daughter.”

“She’d be such a daddy’s girl. You’d be wrapped around her finger from the very start.” It was easy to imagine this future with him. It was so easy that it almost hurt, your entire being aching to be able to have this with him someday. “We’d never pressure them to be anything more than happy. They’d be absolutely brilliant but they could just be kids.”

“You’d be the best parent, Y/N,” Spencer spoke, voice wet again from new tears. These were lighter though, matching your own as you pictured the most perfect future for you two. “They wouldn’t ever know pain like we did. They’d have so many friends, and they’d be there to protect each other.”

“Tell me we’ll have this someday, Spencer.”

“I promise, Y/N, this is our future.”

“You call me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest...”

When Spencer woke you up on the morning of your three-year anniversary with gentle kisses and promises of something important to talk about, you knew what was coming. It was the perfect timing for it too. Spencer had just completed his third—and supposedly, final—PhD in record time. You were on track to graduate with your undergraduate degree and, though you hadn’t told him yet, had gotten your acceptance letter to the chemistry doctorate program here at CalTech. You both were starting new phases of your lives, it only made sense that he planned to propose now.

“Can we talk about it now?” you’d pleaded, trying to pull him back into bed despite the fact he was already dressed for the day.

“We can’t, I have a meeting with someone,” Spencer told you, laughing brightly at your antics anyway. “We’ll talk tonight, I promise.”

So you’d tried to busy yourself all day and not picture what it would be like to wear a ring on your left hand. You’d ended up running errands for the day to get out of the apartment and calling one of your old friends because someone else had to know what was going on.

You were so sure.

You were sure until you got home at 7 and he still wasn’t home. 8 pm passed and you hadn’t heard anything from Spencer. 9 passed and finally, he called. It would be the call that would absolutely ruin you.

“Hey, Wonder Boy, when are you coming home? I miss you,” you greeted as soon as you answered the call, pressing the phone against your head and shoulder as you went about fixing your outfit. You had to look good for when he proposed.

“We need to talk, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why you need to get home so we can talk.” The smile was impossible to wipe from your face, permanently etched in with a chisel.

“I wanted to do this in person, Y/N, I did. I can’t though, I know if I saw your face I couldn’t say it.”

Oh? Was he going to propose over the phone? You had to admit it wasn’t what you were expected, and you had to admit you were a little disappointed. Still, you would have Spencer any way he would give himself to you. “I can’t believe you’re doing this over the phone,” you teased.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” A sigh and...was that a sniffle? It sounded a little like a hiccup; like Spencer might’ve been trying to reign in the tears. “I’m at the airport.”

“Why’re you there, silly?”

“Y/N.” The smile was erased from your face as he said your name. He’d never said it like that, filled with so much pain and guilt that you could practically feel through the phone. With a sinking feeling, you realized this wasn’t a proposal.

“Why are you at the airport, Spencer?” you tried again, voice considerably smaller. Did you even want to know the answer?

“I got recruited by the FBI, Y/N. I started training at the academy in Quantico tomorrow.”

“What the fuck?” The words slipped out before you could even process what Spencer had said. Was this some kind of cruel joke? Your hand shook as it grabbed the phone again, dropping onto the floor when your knees could no longer hold you up. “This isn’t funny, Spencer.”

“It’s not a joke, Y/N. It’s called the BAU, the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They hunt down serial killers by psychologically profiling them, and they want me to be on the team.” Under any other circumstances, you would have been so happy for him. You would’ve been thrilled. Instead, now you were picturing Spencer at the airport ready to leave you without so much as a goodbye.

“Why are you at the airport, Spencer?” Maybe you were a broken record now, unable to say anything but the question that had chipped at you. The words were considerably harder now, desperate for the answer he wasn’t giving you.

“I told you why. I got recruited by th-”

“I know that part, Spencer, I’m not a fucking idiot. I mean, why are you saying goodbye like this?”

Your anger stunned him into a rare silence from him. Maybe later you would feel bad for the harshness, but for now, all you could picture was the future he’d promised you.

“This isn’t a goodbye.” Spencer sounded so innocent, so genuine that you wanted to believe him.

“You’re flying to the other side of the country.”

“You could come with me. Come with me, Y/N. We can find an apartment together in D.C. Georgetown’s a great school, you can take a gap year and apply next year.”

“You want me to uproot my life just like that? Everything I have is here,” you spoke incredulously. You finally got into your dream doctorate program at your dream school, how could he ask you to give that up when he knew how much it meant to you?

“I won’t be there.”

“I know, you’ve made that very clear,” you snapped, angrily wiping at the tears pouring down your face. They dripped onto your outfit, a bitter reminder of what you’d thought tonight held for you. “I can’t do this, Spencer.”

“You can’t do what?”

“I can’t say goodbye like this. Don’t leave me behind, Spencer.”

“I’m not, Y/N!” It was his turn to sound angry. There weren’t many times Spencer truly got angry, but it was scary when he did. His genius mind always knew the right thing to say to cause the deepest pain. You hadn’t been on the receiving end of that calculated blow until tonight. “I’m asking you to come with me. What do you plan to do in Pasadena? You could hardly get through your undergrad even with my help, do you actually think you can get your doctorate? What are you without me?”

You gasped as if he’d reached through your phone and smacked you. It felt like it too; your chest was stiff and unable to take in another desperately needed breath. It was the final blow that shattered whatever was left of you. You choked on the sob that tore through your throat, hand smacking against your mouth to try to stifle the rest of them. After so many nights admitting it was your worst insecurity, your worst fear, he’d used it against you. You were so afraid of not being good enough for him, of not living up to anyone’s expectations for you, and here he was telling you that you’d done just that.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean that.”

“You said it though. You said it, Spencer.”

“Please, Y/N, let me explain. Listen to me, and I-”

“I’ve done enough listening.” You don’t know where this strength came from, but you knew it wouldn’t last. You couldn’t speak to him anymore. “I wish you luck with the FBI. Stay safe, Spencer.”

“Wait, Y/N, pl-” but you hung up before he could finish his pleas, having heard enough.

Once he was gone, you allowed yourself to cry. You mourned the loss of the man you thought you’d love forever. How could he have possibly been so cruel? The sobs wracked your entire body, forcing you to fold over on the ground so your hands could brace your upper body. It felt like the kind of pain that would never end, that would follow you until the rest of time.

Spencer Reid had well and truly broken you like he’d broken his promise of forever.

“I'd like to be my old self again but I'm still trying to find it. Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone...”

Picking up the pieces of a broken heart doesn’t happen all at once. It’s a painstaking process that ends up with you cutting yourself on the sharp edges of the heart someone else had dropped.

After three years, you didn’t know who you were without Spencer Reid. It hurt in more ways than one as you desperately wanted to prove him wrong. What are you without me? You hated that you didn’t know. So you stayed in the apartment that was meant for two and you focused on school. You were a ghost of yourself, but that was okay.

You would find yourself again one day.

A year after the phone call that broke your heart, you got a package delivered to your door. You recognized the handwriting right away; the shaky scrawl and random capitalized letters. You almost didn’t want to open it, but a morbid part of you carried it in with shaking hands and tore open the box.

It was like a memorial to what you’d lost that night. The pictures were unbearable to look at so you stacked them neatly and shoved them into the first drawer you could find. You hold the flannel shirt up to your nose, hoping it’ll still smell like him but throwing it into your dirty laundry pile when you found it just smelled like generic detergent. It was a shirt of yours he’d worn around the house several times, stating that he wanted to wear things that smelled like you too in the same way you stole his sweatshirts. Maybe you should send him the CalTech sweatshirt you’d still hung onto after so much time had passed.

There were other things too, memories that Spencer was so cruelly tossing away. Ticket stubs to super artsy films he’d adored and you watched because of how happy it made him, the little plush elephant from when you took him to the San Diego zoo after finding out he’d never been to a zoo before. Your hands ran over each little memory, allowing yourself to cry for the way they were now tainted.

Spencer was giving you up, it was time you did the same.

Eventually, you moved to a new apartment that didn’t still echo Spencer’s laughter. You successfully defended your thesis and only cried a little when Spencer wasn’t waiting for you outside like you always imagined he would. You began teaching at the same university that had changed your life, and one day years down the road, you figured out the kind of person you were without him. You could finally say with absolute surety that you were okay. Time began moving, and life finally moved on without Spencer Reid.

“I know it's long gone and that magic's not here no more, and I might be okay but I'm not fine at all...”

Six years after Spencer broke your heart, and he was standing in front of you. He looked good, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. His outfit choices were a little more grown, and he carried himself with more confidence. You hoped that a part of that change was because of you.

“I miss you too, Spencer,” you admitted, surprising both of you at the sudden admission. It was clear he was expecting anger, and maybe you were too, but you didn’t have the energy for it anymore. “You still have my scarf.”

Spencer’s eyes widened and he glanced down to the purple fabric hanging from his shoulders before meeting your stare again. “I was packing up your things, and I couldn’t give this up. It reminded me of you. You can have it back if you want,” he offered, already reaching up to take it off.

“No, no, keep it. It suits you,” you answered, wondering if this was the closest thing to a peace offering you could give him. The old scars that finally had begun fading were opening again, bleeding and mourning the way you were so close to him now and yet feeling like you couldn’t be further apart.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N. You did everything you said you would, I should’ve had more faith in you.” You didn’t dare correct him, thinking that there were a couple parts of your perfect future that you’d never get to accomplish.

“So have you. That job’s perfect for you, Spencer,” you sighed. Of course, you’d kept tabs on him as best you could. You’d find clips of the BAU while discussing their cases to see glimpses of Spencer. You’d make sure he was happy in the life he’d chosen for himself, the life he’d chosen that didn’t have you in it. “I have to start class.”

“Can we catch up? Y/N, I want to try again. I don’t want to lose you twice.”

You wanted to believe Spencer. That future you’d longed for was right there in front of you, waiting for you to reach out and grasp it. Spencer was asking you to stay, and this time you were in a place where you could say yes.

And yet. It had taken you six years to put yourself together after him. He’d damaged you in a way you weren’t aware another person could. Honestly, you were scared of what would happen if you tried again, if you let yourself hope for another future with Spencer. If he hurt you again, you were sure this time it would be irreparable.

“I can’t, Spencer. Maybe someday down the road, if both of us still remember. I just found myself again, I’d like to enjoy who I am a little longer before I risk falling for anyone again,” you admitted, looking away as his shoulders slumped. “You told me once we were destined to be together. If that’s true, then we’ll meet again in the future, when both of us are ready. Until then...”

“Until then it’s goodbye,” Spencer finished, face crinkling as he tried to hide his disappointment. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry too.” So you watched him return to his coworkers, both of them with clear concern in their gazes. It comforted you that he’d found a group to love and care for him like you once had.

It comforted you to see him still wearing your scarf after all this time.

You sighed, allowing yourself only a minute to compose yourself before beginning the lecture. It would be a lie to say you never once looked at Spencer and imagined what would happen in that figmented future you’d created with him.

A few years down the road, when both of you were older and wiser, you’d apply for a position as a professor at Georgetown. You’d pack up your belongings and drive to D.C. without telling anyone. One day, you would reach out to Spencer and tell him you were ready.

He would be ready too. Spencer would meet you at your apartment and would hold you like he used to. He would promise that the heartbreak was over, that the two of you could finally be happy. He’d propose like you once thought he would, and one day you’d have the family you’d dreamed of once so many years ago.

In your dream, you could be happy together.

“It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well...”

SERIES TAGLIST

@samuel-de-champagne-problems @alexlovescriminalminds @reidsbookclub @givemeth @fightingdragonswithreid @girloncorneliastreet @silverhetdanes @just-a-human-witha-pen @eurydice-but-gay @shemarmooresfedora @rexorangecouny

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #loving you was red #my fics

[mrsmaybank]

Honey - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and the reader were very much in love during Reid’s brief stint in Pasadena. When he has to see her again on a case, he is super nervous. 

a/n: first section is inspired by such great heights 

C/W: Swearing

PASADENA - 2002 

A note from the love of your life is a lovely way to wake up. 

------

When you can understand everything but yourself, finding somebody who does is like seeing a comet; disappointingly rare. My shaky hands can only be stilled by the smile of my most incandescent--in every connotation--creature, and that is you. The universe always seems to know what it is doing even if humanity does not. The stars align and move in patterns we as it’s audience do not fully understand. I think we have watched the stars so much the universe has aligned us as a favor to our poor, overestimated souls. I am so grateful!  Tolstoy noted that "We are asleep until we fall in love!” And I thank you for waking me up.

However I thought it best the favor not be returned this particular morning. You were up late last night, and looked too cute to disrupt. Do not kill me, I am getting coffee. 

I love you and do not leave the bed.  

-Spencer

------

Only Spencer Reid would write that on a sticky note, and only for you would he do so. 

You heard the rattling of keys and a door being opened and shut as Spencer made his way back to your bedroom. The smile you saw on his face was the start of a story that ended on the upturn of your lips, revealing the two protagonists in a mad frenzy of love. As soon as he reached you, your lips pressed to his in a desperation to be impossibly closer. 

“Hi.” he said. 

I am thinking it's a sign

That the freckles in our eyes

Are mirror images

And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned

“Hey love.” you tucked a loose brown hair back behind his ear for a closer look at the face you adored. “Please get back in bed.” 

He sighed but crawled in next to you, big nimble hands making their way across your torso to diminish the space in between you two. You nuzzled into his chest. 

“Your note was beautiful.” you whispered into his ear.

A big, goofy grin spread along his face.

“I meant every word.” his voice so sweet, it sounded dipped in honey. 

Honey is incredibly sticky. 

-----

There had to have been a world where it all worked out. 

In this world, my things never got old, and the ice cubes in my coffee never melted. I could listen to that song over and over again without draining the life out of it and I could like my hair style for more than three months. 

Spencer had read to me the greatest works of the world. Words of the greatest thinkers, authors, and minds. He had an appreciation for them greater than those of the average passerby and I adored that, because so did I. Truly, our similarities are what connected us. Our minds were correlated perfectly when it came to subjectivity. 

In accordance to human nature however, certain matters were never agreed upon. In particular, we argued about the future. The canyon of discrepancy so vast it tore us and our love in two. I didn’t think that was possible.

I wanted to write the book and watch the film as I lived my life and he and his arrogant over-practically thought that impossible. He thought himself an oneirocritic, but my dreams were not looking for critiques. 

Like I said, Spencer read to me the greatest works of the world. And years would pass and the heartbreak and sorrow would fade, but I would always find it ironic how the last thing I ever heard in that honey soaked voice was a work of Confucius.  “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.”

Spencer chose to go to Washington. He took his heart and a piece of mine with him.

-----

BAU JET - 2011

Seaver must’ve noticed my flinch when the sound of her name resonated through the jet. I’d never liked going to California, but this...this had never happened.  “That name mean something to you Reid?” She smiled, “You look kind of horrified.” 

I ran my hands through my hair in a futile attempt to ground myself. “No. I just...I used to know her.” 

In between the fine lines of love and hate, fell a blurry midsection where feelings came before logic and screams and whispers sounded the same. She ruled over this midsection of chaotic emotional fury. 

Morgan spoke, and I quickly realized I might be falling into a conversation I really did not want to be having. “How the hell d’you know her pretty boy?” 

There was no point in lying on a plane completely occupied by profilers. My best option was to clumsily dodge any direct questions about just how well I knew her.

“I’m from the West coast.” 

“So are over 50 million people. You mean to tell me you know all of them?” he laughed.

“The exact estimation is actually 53,492,270. And no, I’m not saying I know all of them, Morgan. I lived in Pasadena for a year after I graduated from Caltech.”

“Okay?” Morgan questioned my previous statements relevancy. 

“She went to USC. We were in the same social circle.” 

Morgan laughed again, “You had a social circle?” 

Emily, next to us, was presumably combing through her file.

“You, ultimate three doctorate dorky dork, were in the same circle as a film major?” she asked. “

What the hell is ‘doctorate dorky dork’ supposed to mean?

“She double majored actually. Film and political science.”

Emily double checked the file, “And Reid’s right. Per usual.” 

“Reid and Prentiss, Y/L/N has agreed to talk to us in her home. She lives in the Hills. When we land, you guys go talk to her.” Hotch stated. 

“Why?” I said before I could stop myself. The team sat in confused silence in reaction to my bluntness, but Hotch, like always, was not having it. 

“Because we have a serial killer that is reenacting the murders in her movie, Reid.” his tone was stern and swift, with a patronizing sarcasm I supposed I deserved. 

“Sorry,” I got out, “I guess I just meant..why me?” 

“Well, you know her don’t you?” Rossi asked. 

I was not ready to divulge the personal details between me and this girl to my entire team, so I just pursed my lips and nodded. 

“Right. Sorry.” 

----

Life is not a spectacle or a feast; it is a predicament. George Santayana. I was in the biggest fucking predicament I’d ever encountered in my life. 

Nothing could slow the incessant, double time pounding in my chest. I was showing symptoms of the beginning of a heart attack. Hopefully I would die and never have to face this.

Fuck, don’t think that.

Have the seats in these cars always been this uncomfortable? God, is California always this hot?

I looked at Emily for half a second, and instantly recognized that keeping quiet from her was proving to be dysfunctional. I could feel her eyes burning into my brain with every profiling skill she knew.

“What are you not saying Reid?” 

I sighed. “Do I have to tell you?” 

“Yeah. Unless you want me to just find out on my own. It’ll be a lot less delicate.” 

Here goes nothing. 

“I dated her. For two years. I was very much in love with her. It ended....abruptly. I haven’t spoken to her since, and now, nine years later, I am on my way to her house. I might have a heart attack.” 

Emily's eyes widened, “Shit..” She laughed a little, “Reunited at last?.” 

I answered with a glare. Hard no.

“Fine, sorry.” She said, masking a giggle with a cough.

I shifted in my seat and I could practically see the gears in Emily’s profiler cerebrum spin. She knew exactly the question to ask. “Is it nerves?”  

I nodded my head, “I was a very different person back then.” 

“Nothing like time and the bureau can change somebody.” she said. “But, hey..”She smiled again and my eyes widened when I realized what I’d revealed. “I asked you if you were nervous. I didn’t-” 

“Emily..” I started. 

“Are you nervous she won’t like you now? Do you still like her?” her mouth hung open, “Oh my god Reid!” 

I shook my head, “No, I don’t still like her! I don’t even know her anymore! I just..I’d never loved somebody the way I loved her.” 

Emily had figured me out at the same time I had. “And you still haven’t.” 

Fuck.

“Correct.” 

The car pulled into her driveway, and conversations from all those years ago started to replay in my head. 

“When we get a house, can we paint our front door bright blue?” 

“I want a lemon tree in the front yard.” 

“Windows. Huge windows. It’s a must.” 

All these things I’d promised her in our future home she’d gotten for herself. Good. 

Fontaine said “Sadness flies away on the wings of time”, but the pain I felt from the loss of her was as prominent as ever. 

Here goes nothing. 

---

Thank you for reading!

a/n2 :  this is completely unedited so if its sucks dick i am sorry :/ i just wanted to post it lol

A/n 3: the typos oh my fuck. I wanna Kick myself for letting this cute fic  be up in that state for so long. Anyway, fixed! :) 

#spencer reid #drspencerreid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you

[spencerreidscoffeecup]

Insomniac (sub!spencer)

Summary: After a long, hard case, Reader and Spencer get into a fight because Spencer is worried about Reader going undercover. They either ignore one another or make passing comments to one another afterwards. But what happens when either of them can't sleep without the other's touch?

CW: slight angst, fluffy ending :), arguing, kissing, talk of case

AN: helloooo!! I believe I MAY post one or two more one shots after this one and then be gone for around a week or so! My new school year is coming up and the first day is Tuesday, so be prepared for the posting schedule to be sort of weird! <33

Word Count: 1231

--

Reader's POV:

Anger pricks my veins, our constant disagreements of how this case went down constantly replaying in my head.

Spencer and I knew that working together would be difficult sometimes, and we were more than willing to work through it. I mean, we loved each other more than life and the world itself, and would do anything for one another.

However, as any normal couple, it is completely fine to get in disagreements, argue, and/or annoy one another. Especially after one and half years of dating.

Although when I went undercover by myself to an abandoned alley-way in Pasadena to catch a killer, it was easy to say that Spencer was angry with me.

"I can't believe you agreed to doing this!" he exclaimed, quickly walking and trying to keep up with me as I marched to the small kitchenette of the police station we were working at.

I immediately stopped, turning around and crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Spencer! This was my decision to make, not yours! I understand your concern--really, I do--but I'll be okay! Hotch has guys covering the premises." I reason, trying my best to keep my voice level.

"Y/n, this is dangerous! I don't want you getting hurt!"

I sighed, "Spence, I'll be okay.. I promise. Just- please, calm down." I tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and looked around, making sure there wasn't anyone listening in on this... argument.

"Calm down?!" Spencer was flabbergasted. "You!- I!- Y/n, this is calm. This is as calm as I can get about this!"

"Well, it doesn't seem that way, now does it?!" I asked, half-rolling my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Y/n, I can't help it! This is a dangerous job, and I'm not underestimating you, but I don't want you to get hurt! I should have some say in this! I don't want you to get injured, or--!"

Before I could respond with my retort, Hotch came out of one of the office rooms.

"Reid, come here."

Spencer nodded to Hotch, then turned back to me. "Do you understand how dangerous this is?!" he whisper-yelled, and I tried my best to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"Yes, Spencer. This is what I knew I was signing up for when I got the job!"

Spencer sighed with annoyance. "Fine! If you want to do this and have the possibility of getting hurt, be my guest!"

"Fine!" I spat out.

"Fine!-" Spencer exclaimed.

"Reid." Hotch demanded, catching Spencer's attention.

"Y-yes, okay!-" he turned to Hotch, then back to me. "Oka-Fuck--I love you!" he huffed, pulling me in for an angry kiss I accepted fully, then pulled off of me, striding away.

I caught my breath and walked away, preparing myself to take down this unsub and go home.

.. And then take care of the issue with Spencer.

--

Now that we were back home, Spencer and I still hadn't made our amends.

He made pointed comments about how reckless I had been.. Even though I single-handedly arrested the unsub and was in peak-perfect condition.

Like in the parking garage of the BAU once we got back from California:

"I'll drive," I commented, taking the keys from my bag.

Spencer instead, snatched the keys from my hand. "No, I'll drive. Don't want you having any more stupid ideas.." he trailed off, and I thought it was best to just take a deep breath and take the high road.

I rolled my eyes instead.

Once we had gotten back to our apartment, Spencer arguing with me in the car the whole way home about how dangerous our jobs are-- even though I fully know that, thank you very much!-- I got into the shower first as a means to get some space from him.

I showered, getting into my comfy pajamas and finishing my skincare and brushing my teeth.

Spencer barged through the door of the bathroom and I scoffed. "What, you don't knock, now?" I asked, wiping my face with a towel as he turned the shower on.

"Whatever." he mumbled, and I rolled my eyes, walking to our bedroom and getting in bed.

Truthfully, I felt bad.

I knew why he was upset--he had every right to feel this way.

This job was hard, and having someone you are going to spend the rest of your life with on this specific job...Well, it just made everything harder.

I got in bed, trying my best to fall asleep.

I couldn't.

I heard the bathroom door open, and Spencer's footsteps walking into our bedroom.

He slipped into our bed, his back facing me, and my back facing his.

I knew he wasn't asleep--his breathing wasn't that calm quite yet.

Thirty minutes passed, and we were both awake, however, I felt sort of... groggy and uncomfortable.

I just wanted to be in his arms.

Apparently my wish on the star outside had come true as I felt some shifting in the bed and then felt a warm body encase me. I melted into his touch, his arms wrapped around my body. I felt more calm.

"I know we're mad at each other, but I can't sleep without holding you." he whispered, and I turned around, nuzzling my head in his chest and wrapping my arms around him.

"I can't sleep without you, either." I admitted, although he already knew that was true.

Spencer hummed softly as my fingernails traced up his warm back, his blunt fingernails drifting softly against my clothed spine.

It was quiet as we embraced one another--no words exchanged.

Until...

"I love you." he whispered, kissing the top of my head gingerly.

I smiled secretly before responding. "I love you."

I tilted my head upwards and kissed his collarbone gently, slowly beginning to fall asleep before Spencer retracted his hands from my back and cradled my face to bring me into a slow kiss.

It was soft and sweet and apologetic. It was perfect.

"I'm sorry I was such a dick. You're so strong and smart, and you took the unsub down alone. I'm so proud of you. I shouldn't have acted that way." he murmured against my lips before kissing them softly again.

I shook my head softly.

"No, I'm sorry I was such a bitch. I should've told you about the plan before-hand. You were just trying to protect me, and I appreciate that. Thank you for caring about me." I whispered, a soft smile curling the corner of my lips.

Spencer smiled back under the soft glow of the moon that streamed through our curtains and poured into our room.

"How could I not care for you? I love you. So much."

My heart fluttered like crazy.

"I love you so much, too..." I took a pause before bashfully saying, "I missed you."

Thankfully, Spencer couldn't see the blush that lit my cheeks aflame. His thumbs brushed upon them, though.

"I missed you." he smiled, pulling me on top of him and beginning to deepen our kiss as we giggled.

I slumped my head on his chest and fell asleep to the calming sounds of Spencer's beautiful heart beating gently in his body.

"I love you, Y/n." he kissed my forehead gently, thinking I was fully asleep--but I could hear his beautiful words.

I hugged him closer to me as if to say, I love you more.

#spencerreidxreader #spencerreid #criminalminds #fanfic #Wattpad

[almightyhamslice]

While I’m on the subject of Crash Tag Team Racing and interps, I have also been experimenting with an alt form for Willie Wumpa Cheeks... I guess you could think of it as an alternate skin? But it’s more like my idea of how he appears post CTTR! Since y’know, he got fUCKING DESTROYED at the end of that game...

He is pretty much entirely metal, save for a few parts. His head is made of glass (and his original flesh, eyes, and brain are contained within), and the leaf on top is also his original biological material. The spout affixed to the front of the helmet is the same one as before as well. Oh, and his cape is made of cloth of course, though it’s not his original cape. He doesn’t really have a mouth, but is perfectly capable of speech... somehow.

Basically post CTTR (after Pasadena & Coco help get his power gem back in), Von Clutch heads back to Astro Land, retrieves what’s left of Willie & scoops him up into a jar. Feeling bad & wanting to give Willie a second chance, he builds him a new robotic body! He even lets him get back into racing, but only under the promise that Willie now cannot drive unclashed, for his own safety (after all, his glass “helmet” is quite fragile). He’s allowed to go around the parks & act as a mascot if he wants to (he REALLY doesn’t lmao) but he can’t dispense wumpa whip either, because Von Clutch isn’t sure if Willie can still produce it in his current state. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), Fake N. Gin is also there to be a co-mascot, and he’s super enthusiastic about it. However, he also tends to follow Willie around when he’s thirsty, so that could become a problem.

Since Fakie can’t drive and Willie can only drive if he’s clashed, the two team up quite often, with Fakie firing a modified version of N. Gin’s rocket launcher, which fires multiple weak rockets at a fast rate, though he is QUITE bad at aiming. Fortunately, Willie knows all the shortcuts in the tracks, so they make up for each other’s weaknesses & are able to pull through to victory! Willie still doesn’t really like Fakie, though.

#Crash Bandicoot #Crash Tag Team Racing #CTTR #willie wumpa cheeks #N. Gin #Fake N. Gin #Mecha Willie Wumpa Cheeks #thats what I'm calling him now lol #crash bandicoot interp #art #traditional art #pencil art #pencil sketch #sketch #body horror #tagging just in case because this gets kinda graphic #well ok its not real gore but its like. wumpa fruit guts or whateva #idk cttr in general has some weird body horror shit in it tbh #also I cannot get over how motorworld is so dangerous like #hm yes we will put actual functioning rockets indoors and have ACTUAL ACID that can DISSOLVE YOUR FLESH #but the lava is fake. dont worry about it. its just soup #(but its still dangerous bc it has maneating sharks in it) #(or bandicoot-eating sharks I guess) #CTTR spoilers #idk if anyone cares abt that but just in case