#i hope yall see that the sentences that are syntactically similar and the parallel settings are intentional and are like stupid attempts at

[halloweenhoneylover]

the struggle bus

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5.3k (a doozy kinda!)

warnings: i guess angst, but really just idiots in love (my fav trope). reader is kind of a hot mess. also, mention of overdose via multivitamin.

author’s note: hi, it’s been approx 4000 years since i last posted, but it’s just because i have no concept of ‘efficiency’ or ‘speed.’ but it’s okay. some of this is good, some of this is eh, make of that what you will. also, this is supposed to be #funny sometimes so uhhhh, keep that in mind. ALSO, the title is majorly stupid, but it was the title of the google doc, and i couldn’t think of anything else......anyways, love u!

For once, the bullpen was quiet.

Spencer was immersed in some case file, doing some work that you should have probably been doing as well, but it was approaching the late hours of the night, and you would barely be able to keep your eyes open if you came even close to trying to read or write. Your desks were situated against each other, so you shifted your gaze across the small divider to him. His sharp features were softened in the lamplight, a sight that tugged on your heartstrings, and you took a moment to just look at him. Most everyone else was gone or was too focused on getting their work done to pay attention to your reverie. Derek, if he were here, would dub you as ‘lovesick’ and shoot mischievous smirks and wiggling eyebrows in your direction, but luckily for you, he was not. Twisting carelessly in your chair with your feet propped on the desk, you chewed absentmindedly on a pen, lost deep in thought. “Hey, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He continued scribbling on the file without so much as a glance towards you, but that was perfectly fine by you, more time for not-creepy staring.

“How many of my vitamins do you think I could eat before I died?”

At this, he furrowed his brow and neatly laid his pen down.

“That depends on what vitamin you’re taking. If you’re talking about iron supplements, the limit is somewhere around 20mg of elemental iron per kilogram of body weight. Any more than that will have incredibly unpleasant side effects like abdominal pain, persistent vomiting, rapid breathing, and coma. However, if you’re talking about Vitamin C, it’s virtually impossible to overdose, but you might get a bad headache if you supersede 2000 mg.”

“Okay, what about my gummy vitamins?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “While it still depends on what vitamins are included, eating a whole bottle of your typical multivitamin could easily result in death.”

You mulled this over. “So, I should definitely not go home and eat the rest of my gummy vitamins tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, “I’m not a medical doctor, but yes, I’d recommend that you don’t do that.”

Tossing your head back and letting out a small groan, you protested, “But Spencer, my gummy vitamins taste so good! And I have no food at home, so I guess I either die by overdose on gummy multivitamins or starvation.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your melodrama. It could be 12:06 in the morning, and you could still somehow make him laugh. He was starting to understand that he was in too deep, but he also had the startling realization that he didn’t mind drowning if it was in you. 

“You’ve got quite the predicament on your hands there, (Y/N). Maybe you should go grocery shopping with me the next time I suggest it, so you don’t end up in this situation again.”

“Oh my god, dude!” you moaned. “I told you I was actually busy; I had to take Oscar to the vet for his vaccines! I try to be a good mother to my dog, and you know I’m not an anti-vaxxer. I’d never decline time with my favorite guy without a good reason.”

Spencer’s heart was doing somersaults at the thought of him being your favorite guy. He’d won plenty of awards and medals in his lifetime, but somehow, none of those measured up to the accomplishment of being your favorite. Pride and butterflies boiled in his stomach. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You snorted, “I appreciate your unmatched benevolence, Dr. Reid.” Locking eyes with him, you tried to dampen the lava flow of heat in your chest that erupted when he looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen, but you failed miserably. You had to clear your throat and look away; it was becoming all too much. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom. Don’t leave without me!”

As you dashed away, a thought crossed Spencer’s mind, and he stood up and set off down the opposite hallway.

You returned a few minutes later to an empty bullpen which made you frown, and your heart sank. You had thought he was going to wait, but guess not. Sighing, you tried to not let it sting too badly when you noticed a light on in JJ’s office. You knocked and pushed the already ajar door with a quick hello? before being met with an exhausted-looking JJ.

“Hey, (Y/N). I thought everyone had left by now.”

“Nope, not quite yet,” you replied, offering a weak smile. JJ noticed and wrote it off as fatigue. “You didn’t happen to see Spencer leave a couple minutes ago, did you?”

“Uh, no, I thought he’d gone too.”

“Hm, okay, thanks anyway!”

You prepared to leave, but she stopped you, cocking her head. “Why do you ask? Is he still here?”

Leaning your head against the doorframe, you sighed. “I’m not sure. He was here when I went to the bathroom, but he wasn’t at his desk when I came back. I’m a little disappointed. We always walk out together because we’re both afraid of the parking garage at night.”

A grin simmered on JJ’s face at that fact. “Well, I could walk you out if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s okay; I don’t want to bother you.”

There was something behind JJ’s eyes you couldn’t identify as she replied, “Alright, then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She definitely wasn’t thinking about how you didn’t want her intruding on a you-and-Spencer tradition. Not that she minded! She’d been rooting for you both since the minute you’d stepped into the BAU, and Spencer had looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor at the sight of such a pretty girl.

“Thanks, Jayje.”

Dragging your feet a little, you made your way back to your desk to gather your things, trying to fend off the disappointment. You had gotten your jacket on and were about to pick up your bag when you heard a (Y/N)! from down the hall. Well, that was certainly not JJ. Hesitantly, you called out, “Spencer?”

He finally emerged with his arms loaded with...something, you couldn’t discern what in the dim light. His face lit up like the Vegas strip when he saw you. “(Y/N)! I didn’t want you starving or eating all of your vitamins, so I went down to the vending machine and got you a couple snacks!” Arriving at his desk, he dropped the various bags and packets on his desk, and your eyes widened immensely.

“A couple? Dude, did you buy out the whole machine?”

Slightly breathless from his quick jog back, he waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. And hey, look!” He picked up a bag. “Fruit snacks! Just like your vitamins, but without the part where you get really sick.”

You were astonished, to say the least. And minorly speechless too, as evidenced by your mouth that was gaping like a fish. “Spencer...this is so nice. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

At that, your face nearly split in two, and he mirrored your grin. You thought you might pass out at his kindness, and you knew you’d be thinking about this every day for the next two weeks at least. Your expression then turned mischievous, as you tried to tamp down all of the warmth bubbling in your stomach. “Do you want to help me try to fit all this in my bag?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

——— 

Garcia had been practicing her ukulele peacefully when she got the call.  (Well, ‘peacefully’ might have been a stretch as she had threatened to smash the object on her coffee table when she simply could not get the finger picking pattern she’d practiced for what seemed like hours, but it was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, so yes, it was peaceful.) Huffing a sigh of relief when the caller ID said [(Y/N/N)!!] with the longest stream of heart emojis and not [hotch >:( ], she picked up with her usual air of cheer. “What can I do ya for, my loveliest, most bewitching—”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of your horrible, heart-wrenching sobs, and her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh no, my sweet! What’s wrong?” She had to wait a few moments for your tears to calm (somewhat) while you tried to wrangle in your breath, so you could form some sort of sentence.

“Penny!”—gasp—“Oh my God,”—hiccup—“it looks so bad!” With your last word, you tumbled into incoherent bawling once again.

“Dear, what looks so bad?” She held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began to gather up her things. Whatever was wrong, it was clear you needed some good, old-fashioned Garcia TLC, and she was ready to give it.

The sniffling subsided minorly, and you choked out, “Remember when we were talking the other day, and I mentioned that my hair had gotten a little too long for my liking?” Oh no, Garcia could see where this was going. “Well, I figured I’d spend our evening off getting my hair cut, and I went to that new hairdresser, and oh Penelope, it looks awful. I don’t think I can ever go out in public again.” With that, your tears resumed.

“Darling, you know I’ve been where you are, and I know it seems bad right now, but everything will be fine. Let me grab my scissors and I’ll be over faster than you can say, ‘Penny, I love you so much, you truly are my fairy godmother.’”

You paused before whispering into the phone, “Penelope, I do love you so much, and you are my fairy godmother. But please, hurry.”

And hurry, she did.

Garcia was knocking on your door a little over five minutes later, which was incredibly suspicious because she lived at least 10 minutes away on a good day, but in the state of your disarray, you were not inclined to care. She sat you down on the toilet in your bathroom, whipping out her hair care set (she had definitely spent a significant amount of time dabbling in cosmetology, and it was desperate times like this when it came in handy). Squeezing your eyes shut through most of it, she snipped here and there, trying to make the best of this...horribly atrocious cut (seriously, that hairdresser should be sued), and when she was finished, it was not as bad as when they started, but it still wasn’t great. The rest of the evening was spent watching cheesy rom-coms and baking in an attempt to get your mind off of your hair.

Everything was mostly fine until the next morning, when you realized you’d have to go into work like this, and as terrifying as that prospect was in a normal work environment, you also worked in a place with an abnormal amount of hot people. (And you happened to be developing feelings for one of those hot people, but your brain was insistent upon ignoring that for the time being.)

Already anticipating your worries, Penelope had sent a text without your knowledge to a BAU group chat that excluded you (she had one of these for every member, it just made surprise birthday party planning so much easier).

[penelope :)] please DO NOT MENTION (Y/N)’S HAIR!!!! she got a bad haircut and she feels really terrible about it and doesn’t want to think about it so do not talk about it!!!

[jennifer!] Oh, no! :( Lips are sealed!

[rossi ;)] rip.

Emerging from the elevator in the nicest work outfit you own (an attempt to distract from the monstrosity), you scurried to Garcia’s lair before anyone could see you. Once inside, you slammed the door shut, and leaning against it, you slid down and covered your face with the files in your hands. “Pennyyyyy,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can do this!”

She swiveled to face you with a look of empathy. “Sugar, I know you can. It—it doesn’t even look that bad!” But Garcia was a horrible liar, and if looks could kill, she would have been dead instantaneously. 

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you came to sit in the seat next to her. “Can’t I just work in here today? And maybe for the rest of time?”

“You know I would love that, but those other lovely people on our team need you! Especially the young doctor, you know he’d be lonely without you.”

As if her mention had summoned him, Reid opened the door to their secret meeting, files in hand, and your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Garcia stared at him very intensely, attempting to telepathically tell him to not mention the hair, and you looked like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out a way to hide yourself from him and possibly the entire universe. And poor Reid shifted his gaze between the two of you, helplessly confused as to what he had walked into. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no!” Garcia said in the least convincing manner.

“Okay,” he responded, not convinced in the slightest. “I just came to give you some files from Hotch.” So, he handed Garcia the papers and then turned to leave when you caught his eye. 

And because he was not the greatest with technology, Spencer had not checked his phone that morning…. Meaning he had not seen Garcia’s text. So he looked at you a moment and cocked his head. “Your hair looks really nice today, (Y/N). Did you get it cut?”

This time, it was Garcia’s turn to glare (because read your texts, dammit!), and you fumbled for a response. As you scanned his face, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was just saying something to make you feel better, you came up empty. He was telling the truth. He genuinely thought your hair looked nice. “Um, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” He offered you a smile, which you returned easily (a fact that surprised you). “See you.” Retreating from the office because the vibes in there were weird, he shut the door, finally leaving you and Garcia alone again. 

You were reeling.

You thought about when you had gotten dressed that morning, and you had entertained each outfit with great scrutiny, trying to come up with something that might draw attention away from your hair. In that half hour you’d spent, you had realized that you didn’t really mind looking bad in front of Morgan or Emily or Hotch or really anyone on the team. Almost anyone. With an increasing amount of discomfort, you had realized you didn't want to look bad in front of Spencer. Of course, he’d never judge you, but you wanted to look good for him. For your best friend.

And he told you your hair looked nice.

You smiled to yourself.

Garcia turned to you with a look of shock on her face. Had that been anyone else, she was sure you would have curled up in a ball beneath her desk and would not have left until every single other person had left the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but you hadn’t, and she smirked.

Oh, she knew where this was going.

——— 

To put it lightly, it had not been the best of mornings. 

It seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong did, so you burst past the glass doors of the BAU six minutes late with a coffee-covered shirt, mud-stained pants, soggy shoes, and a most miserable attitude. Hotch, while a sympathetic man, was still your boss with rules to follow and when you stumbled into the bullpen, gave a pointed stare between you and the clock, and you nodded sullenly. You understood his silent admonition, but knowing that he was even slightly disappointed in you, made your knees want to buckle. Swallowing around the slug in your throat, you set your bag down beside your chair and noticed a foreign object sitting on your desk. Interest thoroughly piqued, you reached forward to find it was a book with a satin ribbon tied on it.

It truly was a beautiful book with a deep crimson hardcover and the kind of deckled edges that you loved. Running your fingers along the rough-hewn pages, you finally noted the title, and you gasped. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Your favorite. The cursive words curved in black on the cover to match the ribbon, and you carefully traced the curling letters, wondering where this gorgeous book could have come from.

In the desk across from yours, Spencer watched the scene in front of him with a grin. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of awe on your face as you inspected the book with careful fingers and a gentle gaze, and his heart swelled more and more the longer he looked. “Did you know that Margaret Garner, the woman the character Sethe is based on, her trial was used as part of an effort to dismantle the Fugitive Slave Act?” Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and those stupid freaking butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach as you realized who had gifted you the book. “The presiding judge didn’t accept her lawyer’s argument that the act violated the right to religious freedom, but it was still somewhat of a turning point in the movement to strike down the law.”

“I did not know that, but thank you. For the fact and the book.”

“You’re welcome.” He had to avert his eyes from your strong gaze because he thought he might melt otherwise.

“Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful because I’m so, so thankful, but why?”

He shrugged, “I was just in the book store, and it made me think of you.” No, he didn’t keep an eye out specifically for this book on his weekly trip to the bookstore by his apartment after you had briefly mentioned your love of Ms. Morrison’s metaphors. And he definitely didn’t ask the owner Alice if she would let him know if she ever got any new copies.

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Combing back through your conversations with him, you tried to remember when you had talked about the book, but you couldn’t come up with anything other than a couple words tossed briefly here and there. Suppose it wasn’t really the fact that he had heard, but the fact that he had listened. He listened and remembered things about you, little things tucked in the back of his brain, and it was how he thought about you even when you weren’t around. So, you clutched the book to your chest tightly as if it could meld with your heart and let your thoughts rage with the implications for a minute before smothering your mushy grin and tucking the book into your bag.

(Later, you pulled it out on your ride home on the metro. Spencer had already gotten off at his stop a few minutes before, so you took this moment of solitude to revel in the glory of your new gift. Every time you smoothed a hand over the cover, your mind was overwhelmed with what-ifs. What if he felt the same? What if his stomach rumbled with the same butterflies when you looked at him? What if this means he likes you as more than…. And abruptly, you were doused in doubt once again, muzzling those dangerous, rearing hypotheticals. This was a path that would only lead to disappointment.

Those thoughts only got worse when you read his inscription, though:

Dear (Y/N/N),

I hope you find great joy in reacquainting yourself with the graces of Ms. Morrison’s elegant prose in this new copy. I was inspired by your praise and read this classic again, and I can say that I definitely understand your veneration of her story-telling. Hopefully, we can discuss it soon, so I can try to see all of the details that you so admire. You are always much better at appreciating the finer things in life.

She says that, “something that is loved is never lost.”

I hope you know that you will never be lost to me.

Sincerely,

Spencer

(P.S. I wrote this in pencil, so you can erase and have the clean copy you wanted.)

You would never erase it.)

——— 

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands. Your responding “no” came out muffled. 

Spencer frowned and sat on the edge of your desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Running your hands over your face, you finally met his gaze. His eyes were soft as they searched your own, and the expression on his face was not of pity or frustration but empathy, and of course, he was just being his sweet self. Your eyes watered in response, and his heart clenched at the sight. You shifted your eyes somewhere else, anywhere else. “Uh, no.”

It was clearly a lie.

Furrowing his brows at your obfuscation, he scanned your face for any indication of what might be the problem. A small sigh. He came up with nothing. “Alright,” he conceded hesitantly. “May I ask what is wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You stared down at the files neatly ordered on your desk, trying to mentally shoo him away with the sheer force of your willpower alone. But Spencer Reid was a stubborn man, and you knew this, and you also knew he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were alright. So, you both sat in the silence of the bullpen that only accompanied the arrival of midnight. The glow of your lamp bathed the vicinity in a warm yellow, and the tick of the nearby clock rattled around your chest as you attempted fruitlessly to subdue your incessant thoughts. He was close enough that you could hear the soft susurration of his exhales as his eyes flitted about the room to give you some sort of breathing room, and you shut yours for a moment to appreciate this moment of peace before the inevitable catastrophe to follow.

“I’m—uh, not okay.”

Finally turning back to you with a mildly surprised expression (he didn’t expect you to say anything so soon. Or so bluntly.), he offered you one of his signature tight-lipped smiles as encouragement to continue.

“I’m kind of really struggling…” you trailed off, gaze empty, ensnared in your thoughts.

Ever the gentleman with persistence that could last a thousand years, he gently prompted, “With…?”

A strong gulp and eyes squeezed shut. “With you.”

Well, that was not the answer Spencer was expecting. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and he was hollow and shaken and in pain. Gaping, he fumbled hopelessly for an answer, trying to find some reason you could be upset with him. He had always thought you two were the best of friends; he’d never doubted that before. How could he have missed this?

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he strained to ask, “Uh—um, what—what did I do?”

Upon witnessing his struggle, you quickly amended your previous statement. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not mad at you, well, I kind of am, but you don’t need to feel bad, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not really sure what to make of that.”

You huffed a sigh and covered your face with your hands in a poor attempt to try to hide the blush rapidly coloring your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just—you’re so nice!”

Now Spencer was really confused. “You’re mad at me...because you think I’m nice?”

“Yes, Spencer! You’re so nice, and it makes me incredibly frustrated. You see this?” You picked up a book from your desk and waved it frantically. A little intimidated by your crazed look, he nodded timidly. “Do you recognize this book?”

“It’s a special edition of Beloved by Toni Morrison.”

“It’s the special edition of my favorite book that you bought for me because you know how much I love this book.”

Spencer looked like a deer in the headlights. “You always said that your book at home was so messy with your annotations and that a fresh copy would have been nice.”

“You didn’t even buy it for my birthday or a special occasion! You just saw it in the store and said that you thought of me and had to buy it. That’s so unbelievably thoughtful! Not to mention the fact that I can barely look at fruit snacks now without tearing up. And—and the other day! When I got my haircut, I hated it, but I came in the next day, and you were the first person to tell me you liked it. You weren’t even lying to make me feel better; I’m a profiler, and I know that you were telling the truth. And it took no effort or thought because Spencer, you are the most kind-hearted and compassionate and generous person I’ve ever met. You are so—so genuinely good. 

“No, you are the best. You are the best person I know,” you stated with finality, holding his stare with an unshakeable firmness. It was the first time you truly looked at him all night, and his heart felt like it was going to expand past his ribcage and burst open like a balloon. Your resolve melted though and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not just nice. You’re nice to me. Which just makes it so hard.”

You deflated, withering into your seat.

“Makes what hard?”

“It makes it so much harder for me to not fall in love with you.”

Stunned silence. 

Until it was shattered by a hiccup, and Spencer finally noticed the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, and he tried, he tried so hard to puzzle through all of this new information and the fact that you just admitted you’re falling in love with him, and for some reason, you’re crying? He couldn’t even get his stupid genius brain to come with a single word before you started stumbling into an apology. “I know that’s not what you want to hear because we’re supposed to be friends, and I know that you’re just a good person, so you’re nice to everyone. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t keep holding on to this by myself, and I knew if anyone would let me down easy, it’d be you.” You chewed on your lip and avoided his stare at all costs. “So, I’m sorry.” You sniffled. 

The quiet that followed weighed heavy on your chest, and you couldn’t seem to breathe. You had expected rejection; you hadn’t expected complete silence. And this was somehow so much more unbearable. In a voice so faint you weren’t even sure if he could hear, you begged, “Please say something.”

A beat.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

A whisper just barely verging on hopeful, “What?”

“(Y/N), I—I love you so much.” His heart felt like it was in his throat, and his voice broke slightly as he stood. “You’re the first person I think about when I get up in the morning, and you’re the last person before I fall asleep. I dread going home at the end of the day because you’re not there. When you’re not with me, even if you’re in the other room, it feels like I’ve forgotten something, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but it was you. You consume my every thought, which is saying something because I think a lot. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he chuckled somewhat morosely, “I truly cannot comprehend the fact that you don’t know how much I’ve liked you, how long I’ve loved you because it feels like it’s so obvious and so potent that it seeps out of me, whether I want it to or not.

“And I’m nice to you because no one else is more deserving of kindness. I’d be lucky if you let me be the one to remind you of that, everyday. Because you’re the best person I know.” You looked up at him with shining eyes and the meagerest beginnings of a smile, and he just beamed right back. With a creased brow, he ventured, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that, right?

Failing to suppress your growing grin, you nodded your head meekly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

Spencer felt pleased with himself until he remembered that he had forgotten the most important part. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? Like a date?”

Standing from your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and burrowed your face into his chest, and he immediately reciprocated, clutching you as close as he could. “I would love that.” It came out muffled, but he understood well enough as he pressed his face into your neck. And you stood like that for a few moments, just existing together, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. There was no worry of unrequited yearning or pain of terrible pining; there were just two people who finally knew peace. Knew that the person they loved most in the world loved them back. Neither ever wanted to leave.

However, sometimes necessary duties like breathing take precedence, so you pulled back from him enough to finally claim some air. Your hands slid down his front, resting on his chest, his on your waist, and you just stared at him. The most beautiful face you’d ever seen looking right back at you with the same expression of awe that made you realize just how lucky you were. And slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned in ever so slightly with heads wavering and tension buzzing. Gingerly and sweetly. Neither could commit, but no one could pull away from fast-approaching revelation. 

Finally, a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

When your lips met, your chest heaved with your eager, romantic hopes and dreams bubbling up near your lungs, finally coming to fruition. His hands came up to caress your jaw, and you leaned into him. His touch was so gentle, but he also touched you with intention. For once in his life, Spencer Reid felt no hesitation, kissing the girl of his dreams. And you felt held by him. You were bursting at the seams of your existence, swollen with infatuation and tenderness, yet totally and completely encompassed by him. You could shatter into a million tiny, little pieces, and he would be there to collect every shard. How cheesy.

Both of you grinned into the kiss; the sickly sweet itch in your heart was contagious. You finally released him, and wanting to savor the moment, you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, so his chin could rest on the crown of your head. “I love you a lot, Dr. Reid.”

He hummed in agreement.

It didn’t need saying.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #i hope yall see that the sentences that are syntactically similar and the parallel settings are intentional and are like stupid attempts at #motifs and that im not a stupid person :/ #also #lol wtf was that ending #anyways #yo this may or may not be based on problems i be having irl #i just fall in love with anyone who is remotely kind to me #lmao #anyone else desperate for affection?? gang?? #also r there any toni stans out there i luv my queen #is anyone out there? i just want friends ahh #ALSO DOES ANYONE ELSE HAVE THE OVERWHELMING URGE TO DEVOUR THEIR GUMMY VITAMINS????? IS THAT JUST ME????