#i could daydream about myself in those situations and imagine i was in a world where things were different and a weirdo like me would fit in

[halfricanloveyou]

ok so i watched the new superman show. thought it was just okay romance wise, nothing very exceptional. the animation was weak in a few areas, i think they should have just gone all out and animated it like an anime, like in the myx episode. loved that battle sequence too!! the rest of the animations with the fight scenes were kind of clunky imo.

character wise i think they’re all pretty predictable and fall into the same boring stereotypes. tenacious and ambitious/spunky ‘tomboy,’ goofy comedic relief third wheel black friend, OP main character who’s main trait is being both responsible for all conflict and saving people from said conflict…yeah. it’s literally danny phantom but instead of being ‘sassy’ clark kent just has anxiety.

HOWEVER…taking into account the episode with the loving and kind gay gorilla and his robot-body-but-human-brain-scientist-husband, clark kent being quite possibly the most peggable fictional character to exist, casually depicting lesbian moms, and most importantly being very obviously and overtly anti US government means i objectively have to give it a 10/10 and say it’s the best tv show i’ve ever seen in my life.

also…it’s definitely a kids show (like probably ages 10+) and i can only assume it’s on adult swim because the people at cartoon network are fucking cowards. let cool stuff back on prime time air and stop shoving it all to after hours!!! sometimes midnight is too damn late!

#srsly as a kid i would have LOVED this show so much #but staying up late on saturday night when church starts in the morning??? #my mom wouldn’t have let me #what happened to airing the preteen/teen shows after 7:30-8pm?? #we don’t all have a DVR to record shit #moment of silence for my sheltered lil homies who like any form of action show at all #censorship is annoying. why is CN following disney SNP rules??? #it’s BULLSHIT #shout out to my homies that don’t care about whatever dumb bullshit studios think kids like and just wanna watch cool sword fights #or laser guns or ninjas or superheros or interesting plots that go beyond stand alone episodes #or realistic conflict that isn’t solved with ‘just be nice and do the right thing all the time and then life will be perfect’ #kids who like cartoons and fantasy and superpowers and magic #kids who like cool stuff more than funny stuff or stuff about everyday life or stuff that’s for their appropriate age group #the whole appeal of cartoons for kids like me who daydreamed a lot was that i could use them as an escape #i could daydream about myself in those situations and imagine i was in a world where things were different and a weirdo like me would fit in #i couldn’t do that with average disney channel shows or kids shows aimed at 6 year olds #as a preteen/teen i wanted to do anything and everything to not have to think about how hard things were #sorry i’m rambling i’m in one of my hyperfixation spirals again where i enter into obsessive and cyclical thought processes and get excited #and soapbox-y again…i have too many opinions and i get to excited to share them here #cause i’m not able to verbalize them or express them all completely while explaining them in real life #it’s the ADHD. i spent too much time online again and wasted my whole day without realizing it until it’s too late again #went right through lunch and breakfast too. i have got to stop doing this so much. #nobody even cares what i think i should spend my time doing something i enjoy #rather than spending it typing up pointless paragraphs that are as random and sporadic and hard to follow as my thought process #sorry ya’ll. i will be back again tomorrow to do it again 💕💕

[wroetominter]

Insecurity - Harry Lewis

It sure has been awhile, I don’t even know how to preface an imagine anymore. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Y/N X Harry

Warnings: slight angst

Smut: none

——————

It was no secret Harry had jumpstarted my career. We started YouTube around the same time, both doing our own things and genuinely having a good time. His channel had started to kick off very quickly, with him beginning to gain subscribers almost immediately. My channel? Not so much. I had a steady ten thousand subscribers well over two years into it. Where as Harry, had over three million - and had joined a YouTube group - "The Sidemen".

I had since that time decided to stream instead. It was my element. I loved it. Still love it. Harry had popped into one of my streams quickly to say hello, and ask for my Nando's order. This grasped the attention of thousands upon thousands of viewers - who were now turning up stream after stream. I thanked him endlessly, finally being able to support myself with my content career, and leaving the stuffy job I had worked to make my money.

Now, I lived in a beautiful two bedroom flat in central London. With floor to ceiling windows, I found myself often just staring out of them and wondering, "is this real life?"

Flash forward to the current moment, I opened my window and the crisp, cool air flooded into the flat. My curtains gently blew next to me as I closed my eyes and took in the smell of autumn air. I stretched and took in my surroundings. The city skyline was backlit by a gorgeous pink and orange sunrise, making it nearly impossible to stop staring.

I was pulled from my daydream by the soft buzzing of my phone on my duvet. I grabbed it to find messages from a few friends, and some twitter notifications. I opened the small blue app to see I had been tagged in tons of videos.

I opened a few, seeing that they were all the same clip from what looked to be a stream. Harry's stream. He was playing some geoguessr, and seemed to be at a lull in the game - answering questions.

"Why don't you stream with Y/n anymore?" He read as the donation popped on the screen. You could almost see the instant regret in his eyes as he read it.

"Oh erm, I guess we just sort of fell out of touch. No hard feelings or anything she's lovely, I'd love to catch up with her" I didn't even know what to think. Fell out of touch? I don't quite remember it that way.

— 10 months prior—

Harry and I had been hanging out nearly every day. We were basically joined at the hip. We were doing everything together.

Streaming, eating, going for walks. We basically merged our lives together.

"What's got you all crabby" Harry asked.

"Nothing nothing, just my silly imagination" I was truthfully imagining what would happen if I grabbed his hand as we walked through the heart of our neighborhood.

Harry and I had, what I considered to be a blossoming relationship. We were keeping it to ourselves, only to make sure this was what we wanted before effectively announcing it to the whole world.

In private, we were all over each other. Cuddling on the couch, sneaking kisses in bed as I forced Harry to watch my favorite shows. Public was an entirely different story. Even in front of his flat mates, we were just mates, even if it hurt in those moments.

It all came down to about four months into our relationship. I felt we had it figured out with us. We were at a point in our relationship where we were probably only days or weeks from the ‘I love you' talk. We had certainly sealed the deal in more ways than one, by this time.

We had many conversations about bringing our relationship to the public, not our viewers, but our close friends and family.

Harry seemed to be skeptical, questioning every word I said.

"What if it gets leaked out. Then what?" He asked. He seemed very stressed about the situation.

"Then we handle it the same way everyone else does? Just set our boundaries with what we want to say to the viewers and keep the rest private." I explained calmly.

"I don't think I can handle that." He stated.

My head turned slightly to the side at that comment. Confused by what he meant, I asked.

"I just mean, what if we break up? How will that look to the fans? Like I'm just a womanizer dropping women left and right?" He was referencing the few girls who in previous points of his career he had been seen snogging in clubs and never bringing them up again.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat, oh. So this was all about him. "That may be the most selfish thing I have ever heard." I said softly. I was heart broken that all he seemed to be thinking about was us breaking up. "I thought we were in a really good spot, Harry." His pacing stopped and he looked over at me, seeing the tears brimming my eyes.

"Y/n, no... no... I don't mean it like that." He tried to back pedal.

I was too upset to hear it at that moment, gathering my bag and standing up, wiping my tears on the hoodie of his I was wearing. "Ill make this easy for both of us. No need to go public with something that doesn't exist anymore." I said, leaving the flat.

I can't even remember if he tried to come after me at this point. All I remember is the hurt that it caused, wondering if I would ever get over it.

—present moment—

I shuddered, partially at the chill enveloping the room and partially at the memory of leaving Harry standing there. I trailed over to my closet, reaching in the back for the all too familiar fabric of Harry's hoodie I left with that day. I hadn't washed it, so it still very faintly smelled of his flat.

I decided to get myself ready for the day, dressing casually and cleaning up so I could stream. I was planning to play some dead by daylight with Talia, and then probably some solo game if I felt up to it.

Mid way through the day, as I was still streaming, a notification appeared on my phone.

Harry: can we talk?

Not wanting to lose my poker face on stream, I sat my phone down, ignoring the message for now.

Harry: I'm watching your stream, I know you're ignoring me. I don't blame you, I just want to talk.

I gave in, typing back a quick '0kay, you know where I am' and went back to my game.

Barely an hour had passed since my stream ended. I had taken a shower and just started to cook myself a meal.

A small knock at my door broke me from my trance that I was in cooking up some dinner. I shuffled to the door, opening it to find Harry standing there in a pair of Sidemen joggers and a Nike crewneck. He seemed older, or perhaps that was a trick of the eye caused by the facial hair he was now sporting.

"Come in," I stepped aside and let him in. He came silently and sat at my island, watching me finish up my food and dishing us both up a plate. It was my worst habit, eating when I was nervous. I had no idea what he was planning to say.

"I'm sorry" he said. Nothing further, just he was sorry.

"I was hurt." I blurted. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I know, and I would take it back in a second if I could. I wouldn't have said anything I did, it pained me to see your face when I said that" I tried to speak but nothing came out. "I still care for you. A lot. I have feelings for you, deep feelings that I can't shake. Not that I want to. You didn't deserve what I said to you. You deserve better than me but I selfishly still want you. I'm praying that I'm not making a fool out of myself here." A flush had overcome his face.

"You're not." His eyes lit up, head snapping up to meet my gaze. "I don't blame you for what you said. I know you were only worried what would happen to us. But you can't let that dictate your life. Yes, we could have broken up. But that's something that's always a possibility in a relationship. That doesn't mean you give up on it."

"I know," he started. "I feel like you were too good to be real. I know that sounds cliche, but truthfully you are too good for me, and always have been." I sighed,

"Harry, you know me better than this. I want you. Is that not enough?" I asked.

"Want? As in present tense?" I blushed, turning my head to the side.

"Yeah, I guess I'm not over you, like I tried to convince myself I was." I said.

He pushed his plate up, moving to my side of the table and wrapping his arms around me. I felt like we were transported to almost a year ago, when him and I were inseparable. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. Taking in his warmth and comfort.

"I missed my best friend" he whispered in my ear. "And if that's all you want, that's fine. I just need you in my life" my heart fluttered as he said this, holding my face in his large hands.

"Don't be silly Harry," I said, leaning toward him to seal the space between our lips. The kiss was short and sweet. "I missed you too".

#wroetoshaw #sidemen #wroetominterimagines #imagine #sidemen imagine #harry lewis

[multiverselibrarian]

Of Apocalypse Dogs and Grief

As someone who has been grieving the dog who saved my life and as an analytical nerd through and through, Fallout hit me deep.

Obviously Dogmeat (CXC404) is not the main focus of this series, but the Ghoul bonding with him was one of those dynamics that just made me sob. As a long time fan of science fiction/zombie media/apocalyptic media I’ve come to expect the cliche dog relationship. However, since the sudden death of my dog around a year ago, I’ve avoided some of my all time favorite movies to curb the hurt (I am Legend, for example). When this show came out, though, my excitement overshadowed that unspoken rule I had made for myself and I forgot my caution.

This slip up ultimately gifted me with so many wonderful memories to relive and also a reminder of one facet of grief I had yet to pay attention to.

For me personally, the most impactful scene of this topic was the brief clip of Dogmeat curling up on Cooper as he thought of his old dog, Rosevelt, from his past life.

“I’m sorry Dogmeat but you ain’t him.”

I could dive into how masterfully portrayed the Ghoul’s character is, and how the writing employed many interesting situations to show the audience his lasting humanity and vulnerability. Instead, I just miss my boy.

Because the Ghoul is right, nothing can compare to home. And that’s what my dog was to me: my home. It feels like I’ve been traversing my own wasteland without him ever since, which is disgustingly unfair because of all the zombie adventures I had imagined for the two of us.

I think a lot of my generation daydreams of the hypothetical post-apocalyptic world. Somehow it has become this fun future for when all the stress of our day-to-day catastrophes have boiled over and all we have left to do is breathe and survive the aftermath. It’s a genre that provides a lot of ironic comfort and commentary on what might drive us there.

I had always joked about what to do if zombies reigned or if bombs rained down, and my hypotheticals never left out my dog. I had always thought he’d be the finest apocalypse dog. A spunky mutt, athletic, protective and bonded to me above anyone else.

It would be me and him, cowboy and canine, against whatever may come.

That’s how we were in life, and so naturally that was how I saw us in this fictional future. It wasn’t the only future he joined me in. In fact, I had rarely pictured a near future without him. Then in the span of a couple hours he was gone. And I’ve been grappling with my own end of the world ever since.

I had been avoiding this trope like the plague as to not remind me of the futures I’d lost. But in Fallout, I found some odd closure. I could turn on the tv and see this adventure I had always wanted play out with some aspect of him waiting for me in it. I think, in small doses at least, this trope can help me after all.

So cheers to Fallout, a phenomenal world and story. And cheers to Dogmeat, who I see my own apocalypse dog in.

#fallout #fallout on prime #fallout tv series #fallout tv spoilers #personal journey #personal journal #rant post #personal rant #greif #pet loss #working through it #the ghoul #cxc404 #dogmeat

[chemdisaster]

this is probably going to be an unpopular opinion, but some of you seriously need to relax and shut the fuck up about rpf.

i've seen an increasing amount of people in the hermitcraft and life series fandoms with "not the real people" in their pinned who seem to act like they're somehow better than those who do create/consume rpf. and you guys seriously need to get off your high horse right the fuck now and realise that when properly tagged and not forced on anyone, rpf hurts no one. and this goes for all art that commonly gets looked down on in this fandom, darkfic and non con and kinkfics and whatever else. if something is fictional, if it's properly tagged, if it's not forced on anyone - it hurts no one because it's fiction. more than that, it's art. you cannot and should not place boundaries on creativity. not only does that kind of thinking have serious real life consequences that i won't go into right now, but even within fandom spaces all you will end up doing is hurting the very people you often claim to want to protect.

most of the time i've seen this kind of attitude, it's been exhibited by younger people. and i would just like to remind you - you know how you can admit to writing fics and not be criticised and shamed for it? you know how fanfiction is a widely spread and common thing now? you know how nowadays you don't need to put an "i don't own x" disclaimer in your fic? yeah, the rpf people helped do that. obviously i can't speak for every community as i am just one person in my own tiny corner of the globe, but part of what helped me come to think of fanfic as something normal and not something i had to hide was getting used to the idea of rpf. it was frerard and those fics where someone gets sold to one direction and the normalisation of the 14 year old girl writing fanfics where she marries her crush and has three kids.

you people seem to view rpf as this big disgusting thing that god forbid anyone thinks i engage in or condone. and it makes me think of how i would write fanfiction about my swimmates and show it to them, and we'd all laugh about it. when i was a kid i would imagine myself being friends with celebrities and create fictional problems for them so i could provide emotional support. i still, on occasion, hyperfixate on real people and imagine myself interacting with them somehow. in fact, most of the time in my own head is spent daydreaming about various made-up situations including people i know or used to know, because that is simply how i deal with the real world, my form of escapism and just something i do to keep my messy brain occupied. what i'm getting at here is that rpf is normal. it's not this big awful sin. there is literally nothing remarkable whatsoever about the idea that someone would see something in real life and be inspired to turn it to art.

you get nothing from throwing other people also part of your community under the bus when there are those who would get rid of you all. you get nothing from being a dick, from spreading shame and disgust and assigning moral weight to things that cause zero harm. your knee-jerk reaction at something that makes you uncomfortable is not the end all be all of what's right and what deserves to exist. so i pray you, get over yourself, stop acting like you're better than everyone else and shut the fuck up about rpf.

#anyway some of my most favourite fics were rpf and one of them has since been deleted #and i have an idea as to why #so cut it out with being a dick to people over what they create. please #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft smp #traffic smp #traffic series #life series #trafficblr #and since this could go for any mcyt fandom in general #mcyt #mcytblr #textdisaster

[fairycosmos]

so i might be going crazy but i keep imagining all these scenarios where im like. hanging out w my friends or doing smth by myself and imagining how nice it would be to do it w them or have a convo w them, watch a movie, etc etc and im even laughing by myself in my room

and i dont have a lot of friends just like 2 ppl i talk to semiregularly but we havent gotten that many chances to hang out this year

anyways its very weird and obsessive because its not even like daydreaming about a crush yk but i do it so much that i dont finish my work. bestie i am losing it

hii noo i feel like that's so common TBH and not something you need to pick apart / crucify yourself for. i do with it ppl i've never even met 😭 full on smiling and laughing imagining stuff. like always 0.2 seconds away from talking out loud to nobody lmfaooo. it's where i get any semblance of feeling cared for LOL. if we're being real i think having a small group of friends + the isolation of the pandemic and just life in general has rendered a lot of ppl to feel quite alone and this just sounds like a side effect of that. sounds like you're looking for more intimacy and genuine emotional connection, which is literally like. the most human thing in the world im so serious. there's nothing weird about you just because you want that, even though i understand why you feel kind of odd about the way it's manifesting itself.

if it's getting to the point where it's getting in the way of you functioning normally on a day-to-day basis, it could be becoming a form of maladaptive daydreaming. here's an overview of it and a few basic ways to start work on coping with it in a more productive way if it's really making you feel guilty, uncomfortablce etc. but anyway like i said i don't think you're going mad and i don't think you should bully yourself over it at all. this probably means nothing to anyone LOL but i see ppl on tiktok talking about doing this exact thing alllllll the time like it really isn't that far beyond the realms of "normal" or whatever. but ultimately i think what's going to help the most in the long run is trying to foster more connections with ppl + take advantage of the ones you already have in any way that you can through vulnerability and consistent communication with those who love you.

both of those things are wayyy easier said than done and yk i recognize that there's very little opportunity to meet like-minded ppl these days, and recognizing that that's the case - that it's not you, it's your situation - can do a lot for your self esteem imo. but i hope you can find some sense of community eventually, even online or something. personally im one mental breakdown a way from picking up a sport or something just so i see other ppl outside of a work/getting drunk setting bc the loneliness is aliveee at this point and im tired of it. ig what i'm sayinggggg lol is that i totally hear you and understand where you're coming from, and i think a lot of us do, so no worries. im officially diagnosing you with NOT losing it and being so fun and cool. mwah x

#anon #i did not say what i want t o say in this anon srry im soo so sleep deprived and tired from work sorryyy sorry

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi, I have previously written to you but it was a very vague description. I am very torn between INFJ and INFP and 4w5 ( I thought I am a 5w4 with the RHETI test)

I have had a typing crisis for around a year. Many people view me as an xxTx type because I am straight to the point and honest ( even if it brings me lots of anxiety which turns into anger). I care about the opinion of my loved ones and when I was younger I wanted to be liked by my bullies so they could leave me alone, then I became much more individualistic after I got into a healthy environment (uni). I have always wanted to help people which is why I chose medicine as a major. ( Previously wanted to be a lawyer for the same reason - justice and helpfulness). I am prompted to daydream as a coping mechanism from day to day life and because of my stressful school life. I have always protected those weaker than me even if I was betrayed - I always stand for justice in situations.

That sounds a lot like a 9w8 to me, instead of an image type. Gut-reactions -- going along to get along and be left alone, but firing up in defense of people who cannot protect themselves. Escaping into an inner world to avoid the outer one (a 9 technique). The gut types (1, 8, 9) are the most concerned with "justice" in the world. If you are a 4, where's your elitism? Your brokenness defining you? Your hatred of petty, trite, superficial things? Your annoyance that people don't get you (and pleasure that they don't)?

When I was a child:

When I was young ( by my mom's words) I was very in my head Child, obedient, kind, smiley and could stare into a wall for w.g and not get bored, I could entertain myself with either my own inner world or surroundings. <- this suggests introversion for sure and also the withdrawn triad (which supports 9)

I cared a lot for my friends and actually having friends ( so I could live the normal child experience). I have been stomped over by lots of people because of my loyalty and naivety ( hurting my loved ones in the process) <- this is general high feeling

I loved to play outside imagining I am an archaeologist and hated when neighborhood kids hurt insects (cutting their heads off etc) because I believed that the insects can feel pain and it isn't fair or good for them. <- more high feeling

Now:

I am much more organized but also lost, because I constantly try to find myself through such systems. I have lost myself in the serving of others and became a much worse person to my loved ones. (Also developing anger issues) <- more 9w8 stuff? Over-serving others and not attending to your own needs is more Fe than Fi.

I am constantly torn between being brutally honest and very supportive. Being original and following the crowd too. <- more attachment (9) -- feeling like you should go along with things, be supportive, follow the crowd, while also wanting to be individualistic. The brutal honesty is iffy. Low Te can be super blunt since it has no real social filter, but Fe is more inclined to think they need to be supportive to maintain harmony with others.

I have ambitions and dreams that I have had for years (becoming a vascular surgeon) even if I change them I always return to them. <- this could indicate Ni, yes.

I want to make a change in the world whether it's making a whole new refined anatomy book or just seeing people being happy. <- more evidence against 4 as a core. You're too focused on other people, and on bringing positivity to the world (a "happy" / positive number like 9 or 7 or 2, and I also see some 2, tbh)

I am much more active in holding my ground and not giving a f...care! Yes, care whether or not people like me or what I do is pleasant for them. <- I would say Fe + 9 at this point. Concern for others influencing your decisions is Fe -- because Fe's think about how their actions impact others, not just themselves.

By the description of my mother I am a very purposeful person who is hard headed when they want to do something and doesn't sway her dreams easily. <- again, more 9 stubbornness.

Thanks to the hard work of both of you! :)

It's just me now, but thanks. I would say IXFJ with either 9w8 with a 2 fix or a 2w1 core. (Lots of emphasis on helping people.)

#question #mbti #enneagram

[titoist]

7 am. looking off to the side & seeing faint light starting to shine in through the curtains, slowly making itself apparent as it claws through the sides of the windows to pour in. hhhrrrmmmhhh(sound of very vague pondering, like a very puzzled grunt-sigh). i think that i hold an intense & often cyclically-torturous habit of instinctually conflating... passivity, with boredom. if i am not constantly seeking to occupy myself with something, be it an activity or a thought, then it speaks to me that i might not be seeking those thoughts & activities for the genuine purpose of finding enjoyment in them... & if i take that logic and apply it to all of the things i may or may not feel inclined to do, then it suggests to me that i secretly do not find enjoyment in anything. which is concerning to consider.... i feel that i am unable to find enjoyment in simply staying still, being quiet, unoccupied, that i am unable to appreciate the extreme serenity there is to be found in being bored. like my enjoyment of a single moment or place is simply its reflection of how it serves as a connective tissue between the past & the future. i am unable to find a joy in simply being someplace, like i once did when i was a child... it is confined to my perceiving it as being "where i soon wasn't, & where in a moment i'll no longer be." my writing certainly seems diffuse & meandering, at the moment. i apologize, as it is 7am, as noted. likely a fruitless endeavor to be attempting to pin this down, at this hour... let me try another line of thought. i have spent a lot of my life... spending my time simply envisioning affection. laying down in bed, & letting daydreams & fantasies of sociality & love & kindness wash over me in waves, writhing as i drift off to la petite mort. this is to be expected, as it's proven to be... my only possible source of such situations, only in dreams, &, of course, to live a life without love is impossible. a function of necessity, i suppose. but i fear that via this occurence, i've unknowingly driven myself in a tight corner where... after years of imagining affection while laying down, it is my instinctual reaction to recede into far-flung fantasies whenever i am sleeping, whenever i am simply performing the action of resting... it's a hard & perhaps silly situation to describe, but it is a hard & silly situation to be in, so i suppose it's only fitting. what's dangerous about this, of course, is that one can easily become convinced of the superiority of the dream-world... to decide that reality is droll, that its cynicism & bleakness is so sharp as to kill people - where your instinct becomes simply to fantasize about living life, & instead of actually living it. but what i am actually more concerned about.. & i guess this is tangential & silly in comparison... is that i fear i am sucking out all the simple joy & contentment that i could be receiving from the simple act of laying down, without replacing it & appropriating it with all of these abstractions about affection, all the mental traps, and so on... because... it feels like laying down is something so simple, so universal, that... if i am unable to simply enjoy the act of laying still & closing my eyes for what it is, without imposing other circumstances on it... then that might certainly speak to some sort of conditioned... uhhh... reification of the overtly un-visceral, maybe. i seem to be getting strung in some seriously confusing circles so let me try putting it more simply. it feels like the simple act of laying down has become distorted, my own morbid fetishization of affection overtaking the actual enjoyment i could be receiving simply from its simplicity. and that makes me sad, because i do want to be unconditionally appreciative of it, regardless of how banal, how common it is. i want to be unconditionally overtaken by my boredom, & i want to be able to find joy in the listlessness... rather than seeking to fill it. goodnight

[raksh-writes]

where do you get your inspiration from for writing? are there any activities you do that helps your creativity flow? i ADORE your work and really love the passion you put into your fics! i’m excited to see what you come up with next whenever you’re ready!💗

Hello! 😊

Firstly, thank youuu 💗💗🥰 it means a lot to read that people see how much passion I have for my writing and enjoying my stories, so really, thank you for such a sweet ask 💗🥰

Where do I get my inspiration?

Hmm, that's a quite hard question actually, feels very much like pretty much anything and everything could be inspiring for me 😄 Definitely other fics I happen to read, whether it'd bcs of the specific AU that gives me an idea or that I liked the writer's style. Music can be super inspiring for me too, tho more in the sense that whenever I just let myself listen and daydream that's when lots of scenes and ideas come to me ^^ Some prompts lists can be inspiring too (most of my smutty one-shots are from those!) and sometimes just some talks with my friends or some of their posts can give me ideas also (A simple gesture of affection or How to give a fox a forehead kiss came about this way 😄). And these days, as Im knee deep in my BatB AU, talking with my lovely beta and bestest of friends @flowers-for-stiles really helps me a lot with keeping my inspiration and motivation going + lots of ideas come out whenever we chat about the AU ^^

And as for activities that help my creativity flow, aside from mentioned above talking with my hun @flowers-for-stiles 💗🥰, which is one of the main things for Sure, then I guess it'd be mostly working around the story. For example, I like imagining some scenes from a different pov than usual, which gives me a better feel for the character or offers me just more insight into the scene/story. I outline my ideas too, writing down key points, which I sometimes use my whiteboard for to give myself a different way of looking at it too. Then, with my BatB AU now, I need to do A Lot of worldbuilding, so for example I'd make lists of what character would be which on the a/b/o scale or in the last few days I sketched down the rough ideas of how Stiles' and Void's rooms would look like so I had an easier time describing everything - which I might post here on tumblr and link to over on ao3 so y'all can have a general idea of where everything in the rooms is situated 😄 In general I like giving my brain lots of different ideas and things to munch on, bcs I always need something fresh to keep my creativity going otherwise I get bored 🙈😂

And this BatB AU I've been writing so much in this reply is probably what will come next 😄 Not anytime soon, unfortunately, but it is the WIP I'm focusing the most on rn and it has A Lot of worldbuilding and plotting to do (just on a single chapters level too, it’s actually not that easy to finds conflicts and things to do for characters that are interesting to read while I need to introduce everything important to the story and the world it happens in 😂), so often times I'm writing down notes about that instead of writing actual chapters and it makes the whole process waaaay longer. I've also divided it into three parts and will prob only start posting when I have the whole first one, or most of it, written because that's just what feels right for it, y'know? And I'm still pretty raw emotionaly after finishing up LitA -- nothing besides this AU actually speaks to me enough to write it -- so rn I'm just trying to slowly ease myself back into writing overall and this AU feels good for that ^^ I might try reblogging prompt lists and ask to send me some, because I've been thinking of trying that to see if it gets my creative juices flowing and allows me to write some short, fun things, but we'll see! For now my hopes are that you, lovely nonnie, or any of my readers won't be too disappointed that I'm not posting much these days and that when it comes it might be in a few months not anytime soon, but also that y'all will enjoy it too 💗

Oof, and I rambled quite a bit, didn't I? 🙈😂 Anyway, gotta rest my wrists now, and hopefully, I can maybe write smth in the evening ^^ Thank you for the lovely ask, nonnie, and I hope your week is gonna be wonderful, best vibes and big hugs to you 💗💗💗🥰

#ask #anon #Raksh answers #Raksh's writing ramblings #a bit late and super rambly but hope its okay nonnie 💗💗😂

[amr-hossameldin]

Excerpt from Journal

I’ve caught myself daydreaming often lately. In some of those daydreams I’m financially stable, I make good money, I have a nice car, a nice house, and enough money to live a luxurious life. In some other daydreams, I’m living in Europe, not much richer than I am today. But I have time to travel and explore all the different cultures and histories there. I read a ton of books and have the peace of mind to sit and enjoy a cappuccino and pastries in local cafes. Some times I think I can find a balance between both scenarios and live the best of both worlds.

What I noticed is my tendency to think that in those scenarios I’ll be happier than I am today. But here’s the thing, today I am living a life that I could not possibly have imagined a year ago, let alone a few years ago. And let me tell you, it looks nothing like how I pictured it would be, not even close. Yet, I feel happy, happier than what I could imagine back then. Life went in a completely different direction than what I have planned and it was perhaps one of the best things that has ever happened to me. In the chaos of all the plans going out the window, I found myself. I learned quite a lot and grew a lot. One of the most important lessons is not to hold on to plans too much. Life has a way of messing with those. I learned to be resilient and learn from each opportunity I have. Like I always say: Life will not stop stepping on your face till you learn the lesson.

I am not who I think I am. Amr in those daydreams does not exist. I am, though, the person who said and did the things I remember when I look back in memory. That is who I am. We are what we say and do, not what we think of ourselves, and definitely not what other people think of us. This view of life made me see every difficult situation, every hard decision, as a chance to create the person that I want to be. So that when I look back in memory, I can say: Yes, I am a person with principles. I do not crack under pressure. I am disciplined, strong and brave. And these are not wishful fantasies, these are moments in which I was tested, in which I created the person that is all those things. 

This brings me back to the point: Happy, calm Amr in those daydreams is nothing more than a fantasy if I do not create him, through actions, now. I do not need money for that.  I already have more than enough. In my everyday life, I do not feel like I’m lacking anything. I’m blessed to be debt free and financially independent. I have a roof over my head and food on the table. I want for nothing and am quite content with what I have. I will not lose sleep over the nicer things I could have. Whatever I end up owning after working my ass off is not really mine. In a few years I’m going to die. Then other people will live in ‘my’ home and drive ‘my’ car. Was it really ever mine to begin with? The only real thing I can think of to take from this life is experiences. Collect as many experiences as you can while you can. Meet as many people, read as many books, learn as many skills, try as many things, travel to as many places. This is what true wealth is. This is what a truly rich life is. In that sense, I am wealthy. I do feel quite rich, like I own the whole world. I am healthy, have a ton experience to look back on and enough people to talk to. I’m blessed with everything that can possibly make me happy right now already. I do not need to wait for a better tomorrow to be happy when I can be happy right now. All I need to do is be present and appreciate what I have.

The happiest I’ve been recently is spending the whole day at a local cafe reading and having pastries with coffee. I silence my phone, put on classical music in my headphones, and easily lose myself in the book for 5 hours straight. Taking notes, underlining, contemplating. It was peaceful. Peace, such an underrated feeling. I’ve also been quite happy about all the new  recipes I’m trying recently and new creations I’m making to those recipes. Cooking and baking is like an art. I like the challenge of making the most filling, tastiest and lowest calorie version possible. Those are things I did alone, and they did make me feel happy and peaceful. I like the quiet. Sometimes I catch myself weary that other people might disturb that peace by getting too close, as is mostly the case actually. I’m not sure where this will lead eventually but I do know that I really like my peace and have no intention of letting it go anytime soon. I guess as I grow older I’m way more selective of who’s close and who I talk to. I think it’s healthy too. In any case, I should take my own advice and just be present and enjoy the moment.

I’m not exactly sure why I’m sharing this. It may all be quite obvious, but it took me a while get there. I guess maybe it could resonate with someone. Which reminds me of this excerpt from Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha when asked to give a word of wisdom from what he attained: "But I will say no more about it. Words are not good for the secret meaning, everything instantly becomes a bit different when we utter it, a bit adulterated, a bit foolish-yes, and that too is very good and appeals to me, I also very much agree that one man's treasure and wisdom always sound like foolishness to another." So I guess you must already know to know. In which case, I’ll leave it here anyway for those who do.

[feelingunfulfilled]

Finished watching a video by CellSpex discussing the thematic significance of the Cheers theme song within Fionna and Cake. And wow, it’s really opened my mind to how I’m quite stubborn with letting go of the past while chasing escapism. It becomes addicting, but restricts you from character growth and appreciating the good which has happened in your life since those times.

I haven’t chased escapism nearly as much in recent years, but I’ve had significant blows to my life during 2021 and 2022 which lead me to shut out reality. I gained the ability to immersive daydream during that time, and would sprint around the house while blasting music in my ears imagining epic battle scenes or heartfelt moments between fictional characters which I had became engrossed with. I didn’t want to be myself, I wanted to be those stories and be the living embodiment of those songs. It’s why I have a difficult time relating to self-insert stories, since I’ve never be able to pictured myself within those worlds, instead it was a fictional life that I was completely removed from but could still live vicariously through. But strangely enough, that longing to be in a fantasy world is also what makes me relate to self-insert artists who depict themselves interacting with favorite fictional characters. This is also why Fionna and Cake stuck out to me, as Fionna is stuck living a mundane life and desperately wants to exist outside of her current situation she feels trapped in

Anyways, my immersive daydream was actually a distraction. A coping mechanism while I was dealing with loneliness and grieving the death of my cousin, who I believed to be the last person that understood me. The only person left who “knows my name” as the lyrics to Cheers say. I processed my cousins death as the death of my childhood, making a permanent unfulfilling end to what I considered the best years of my life. I thought everything after that point would be downhill, leaving me in a reality I didn’t want to be a part of, where I felt forced to grow up and be an adult. I felt restricted and lifeless looking into a future where I was unsuccessful unhappy and struggling to make a stable living in this unforgiving world. Adulthood was a cage, and I would do anything to ignore the passing of time. Trying to regress back into childhood by daydreaming for hours in this world where there was no consequences for making mistakes. I didn’t have to be afraid of making important decisions on my own because it wasn’t my life to be worried about. Immersive daydreaming was like watching a live T.V broadcast of my favorite cartoon show, I couldn’t change the channel or else I would miss out on the best part of my day. I would stay up late on school nights writing down all the details from these daydreams, including settings and dialogue exchanges and full fledged plot elements with character development.

But then, sometime later in 2022, I stopped daydreaming. I really don’t know why, I’ve searched for the answer countless times over but haven’t found anything cohesive of satisfying. All I can assume is reality started to get more demeaning of my attention to the point I could no longer shut it out, or that my brain had processed through my cousins death and no longer needed constant escapism, or that my hyper-fixation on my comfort character died out and caused the end of daydreams. Another theory is that my depression numbed my ability to daydream somehow? But that doesn’t make as much sense, considering I have friends with maladaptive daydreaming who also have diagnosed depression. Whatever the reason is, loosing daydreaming forced me to exist within reality.

Things didn’t get easier from there, actually the amount of stress I was under didn’t help me feel any better. And once my depression started settling in I felt exceptionally numb to emotions and unable to have any thoughts within my brain. To this day it feels like an empty void in my head, where there’s no thoughts or feelings yet I’m still able to perceive the world around me. But the depression took away a lot of the anxiety and overwhelming stress school placed on my shoulders during 2021. 2022 my friend group was going through a lot of what I had experienced the year prior, dealing with grief and crying over the pressure school brought them. Having no emotions of my own, I absorbed the emotions of those around me and their issues made me feel as though there was no happiness in the world anymore. I constantly worried one of them would suicide and was scared for their well-being for months. The one good to come out of all that was it forced me to be the one that reaches out to them, encouraging them and trying to make them feel cared for. It became exhausting, pushing aside my issues in favor of helping them, but it also strengthened our bonds and I became proactive trying to initiate conversations more often.

And now I’m here, near the end of 2023, watching people on YouTube analyze the meaning behind Fionna and Cake. A show that managed to grow alongside its audience and resonate with the burnout many 20 year olds are experiencing now that they’ve grow up and are dealing with mundane living. Despite all that has happened in the past years, I do believe I’ve grown and developed emotionally. I feel like all the struggled I faced where temporary and I some ways, assisted me with getting out of my own head and looking out for the well-being of those around me in reality. Supporting them through the difficult times in the best way I could. It’s made me more observant and perceptive. Although I have my own struggles with depression now, at least I acknowledge my friends actually do care about me. I’m not as alone as I thought I was in 2021, my relationships have strengthened significantly since then because I finally got better at reaching out and checking in on them. And now I’m finally starting to feel like maybe my future isn’t going to be hopeless, and maybe my childhood creativity can still live on somehow.

Sorry I’m not really sure how to tie this all together in the end. I know the timeline of my life very well by this point. I have everything cataloged in my writings, audio recording, and sketchbooks from past years. But I guess I just wanted to share how I understand the message of this show a little clearer now. How escapism and being trapped in the past can actually limit your perception on how much you’ve grown since then, and your ability to make the most of what you have in the present moment. I just think it’s really neat and a topic that isn’t discussed as often as it should be, especially in a generation of people (fellow Gen-z teens) who are so attached to escapism within social media and fiction

#ramblings #cw vent

[straycatboogie]

2023/07/02 English

BGM: Rufus Wainwright - Across The Universe

TBH tomorrow, the 3rd of July is my birthday. I will be 48. 48... I am really impressed that I have been surviving my life through a lot of troubles. It is the same as Franz Kafka's birthday, the person who I have adored so much. So once I had thought that "I wanna live like him" and "I wanna be 'modern Japanese Kafka' and also be famous". That Kafka had passed away in his 40. I once strictly had believed that "I also would die in my 40 like him" (of course, I was really young and fool). At that time, I had been a sad heavy drinker. I had never joined the meeting about autism yet too, so I could have been soaked into my own sweet and imagination/daydream/nightmare. But life is strange. At that 40, I started quitting alcohol anymore. And also I could meet the friends who had also been into troubles about/as autism. We built the meeting at last. It means that the age 40 was a turning point of my life. I might be able to say that "I could begin my life from 40". Is it a fate?

Now... I can't remember why I had drunk a lot of alcohol in such a terrible way. My lifestyle/point of view has been changed clearly/drastically. You can describe this as "de-brainwashing". I remember... I had started drinking because I couldn't find any job when I graduate my university (at that time, we didn't have any smartphones as useful equipment yet therefore I couldn't make any task schedules well. I also have to confess that I can't talk with anyone in any real situation positively to appeal how I am cheerful). It had driven me crazy and made me started drinking. That was the beginning. Maybe you already have read this topics many times in this journal... But I was a kid who had been bullied a lot in schools, so my self-image had been distorted heavily/terribly. I had hurt myself a lot virtually/mentally as thinking "Why have I been in this world?" and "I wanna die soon"... I remember this. Serge Gainsbourg, a legendary French artist/performer, said that smoking is a way to do slow suicide. Me, drinking was a way to hell (but I had dreamed that it was an easy/pleasant way to heaven).

And... I thought something was wrong with my drinking style. I tried to stop drinking so googled... and found the "danshu" meeting group this city has. But I couldn't quit alcohol at once. Days passed in vain... and one day the headache arrived me suddenly, so I had to stay in bed. I could stop drinking that day. C'est la vie... The next day I wondered a lot. I should go to buy one more can beer to drink again? "To buy or not to buy, that is a question"... at that time, I (or someone in me) said clearly like this. "It is pitiful", "I am really frustrated". Because if I started drinking again, I would have lived this life soaked into the sea of alcohol. I would die in my 50s... or 60s. Indeed, that can be "a human life". But it must be a "pitiful" life. I remembered Ayumu Kato, a Japanese comedian's phrase... Sorry, I can't find any good English word so I just write it in Japanese. He says "Kuyashii-desu!!". At last, I found a "spirit" in the bottom of my mind/soul... No. Sorry, I have been MAKING/WEAVING a story. Actually, I just had thought that "that's enough", "I don't want let myself drink alcohol anymore". Or simply "I choose living" and "I am frustrated". I found those various ideas coming/flooding from my deep bottom of mind/soul...

After that, I have been quitting alcohol. I have never done any slipping (drinking again). But still now, when I find a sign that says "DRY", I get shocked (in Japan, we have popular brand of beer as "ASAHI SUPER-DRY"). But I don't want to drink anymore. I am now enjoying "the second life" or "a new life" steadily/eventually... "Kuyashii-desu!!". As you (the readers of this journal) already have known this... I am not a "manlike" person (of course, I can't say I am a feminist too. I unconsciously hurt women actually with a certain "manlike" dominance. If you are finding some essences of that, don't hesitate to tell me, please!). Everyday I am writing this... I am just a slacker/wacker with a hentai mind. Just a "sissy" crybaby... But I am also that kind of owner of a tough spirit even though I am like a slug. The spirit that enables me to beat myself, overcome addiction... Like Sting sings, "Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot", I have been surviving. It must be a lucky guy's life. I have been surviving...

#diary #english #journal #online diary #tumblr diary

[writing-wh0re]

Good Things Come In Three

Chapter One | Reader Insert Series

Warnings: Language, Horny Reader, Mentions of Smut. 

Words: 1,403 

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden 💚

The Triwizard Tournament was all anyone had been talking about for weeks. But today was the day. The day that Madame Olympe Maxime would release the names of the students who will be joining her in attending the tournament at Hogwarts. 

Nova and I were adamant that our names would be in the goblet of fire. Imagine the fame and the glory you’d have… not to mention the bonus of the thousand galleons. But Nova and I had a deal, whoever won would split the money with the other. So overall, it was a win-win situation; apart from the whole possible gruesome, horrible death thing. Worth it.

“Would you stop shoving me!” 

“Let me see.” 

“Get your ass out of the way.” 

The shrill cries of my fellow students echoed through the empty corridors and I knew exactly where they were coming from. 

My stomach felt as though it was going to fall out of me, yet seemed to churn simultaneously. So many unknowns swirled around my mind, a phenomenon I was not fond of. 

After a few deep breaths and an attempted recollection of my emotions, I turned the corner. What I saw next could only be described in one word: bloodbath. A concoction of hair, flowing blue fabric and desperation. 

Every so often one sulking, obviously disappointed girl would emerge from the group. 

“Bullshit. Complete bullshit I reckon.” 

All these years at a girls school and the bitchy, unsupportive comments still took me aback. Maybe one d…. y/n focus. 

Hands landed on my shoulders with a sudden force that made me jump. 

“Y/n, Y/n!” Nova bounced herself in front of me, an obvious smirk plastered across her face, “I’ve already packed my things.” 

I rolled my eyes. Classic Nova. 

“You’ve already read the list?”  

“I like to be optimistic,” she smiled, “you should try it sometime.” 

But before I could attempt even a semi-witty comeback, Nova had joined the pack of hyenas trying to get a view of the board. 

I fell behind. And I couldn’t see shit. If only I was as tall as Madame Maxime, then this really wouldn’t be an issue. So I charged. Funny how quickly people move when you’re forcefully pushing them out of the way. 

Catching up to Nova I watched her place her finger on the list as she skimmed over the names. A short breath escaped me. But I kept my eyes locked on her and refused to look at the list. It was too nerve racking. I was worried about disappointment.

“You…” Nova trailed off as my breath hitched. My eyes remained glued to her as she read the remainder of the list; it could only be one of two responses. And one of those was going to throw a major spanner in the works. 

Nova was unreadable. Her brow remained determined as her pointer finger dropped. Was I going alone? No. Nope. Absolutely, positively no way. 

“Oh, thank fuck for that. It’s me!” Waves of relief and excitement flowed through both Nova and I. 

This was it. It was all coming together. Suddenly those anxious overthinking thoughts about selection had turned to anxious overthinking thoughts about Hogwarts. Possibilities fluttered through my mind. I couldn’t help but be excited. What if… 

“Hey! Hello? Earth to Y/n. Stop daydreaming, we have to pack!” 

//

“Now… I have heard whispers of there potentially being a ball. So you know what that means?” Nova smirked.

I shrugged. Balls had never really crossed my mind to be honest. And didn’t particularly tickle my fancy. 

“Seriously? Can you just act semi-excited at the thought of a stunning dress and seriously gorgeous Scottish or English men, for once?” 

“You’re lucky I like you.” I quipped back. 

“I am way too invested in finding you both a dress and a man to even try to out-wit you right now.” 

Nova winked and began rummaging through my small wardrobe, determined to find me something elegant. This was almost like a real-life Cinderella moment. Rags to riches. A royal family would have nothing on me. 

“Ah ha!” I jumped. Everytime. Nova really didn’t have a lower volume button. “I did it. You’re welcome. Honestly, I don’t need to be a wizard anymore, I’m going into fashion, baby.” She winked. 

A wave of baby blue silk flew across her body as she held the dress up for my inspection. 

“This, this will turn heads.” My head tilted as I looked over the garment, softly rubbing the fabric between my thumb and index finger. 

“I made this dress from my smaller uniform.” 

Nova’s mouth dropped and her eyes widened. She glanced back down to the dress. Then back to me. Then again to the dress. 

“Are you serious? You realise you’re gorgeous and a genius, aka the whole package.” I shoved Nova softly, rolling my eyes. 

“I don’t know, is it too.. revealing?” Gesturing across my collar bones, the neckline of the dress sitting just off the shoulders. 

“Oh come on. English boys? Scratch that. Incredibly gorgeous, mouthwatering English boys?” I didn’t need to look at her to know what she was doing, hearing the kiss-y noises in the air. 

“Put two options in my case.” 

Nova wiggles her eyebrows, knowing she’s gotten her way. 

“What are you wearing to this ‘maybe ball’?” 

“My black scoop back with the halterneck, obviously.” 

“Oh, someone’s hoping to get some attention.” I wink. 

“Hey, it’s the perfect combination of smart and sexy.” 

That was always Nova’s style. But despite all her descriptive ‘S’ words, she left out slutty. 

“A little fling never hurt anyone, y/n.” 

I suck my teeth at her response. Of course she’d go there. But, was she onto something? Suddenly the idea began to consume my thoughts. Hmm, a little fling. I think to myself. 

Lost in my own world, I mindlessly listen to Nova ramble on about other girls coming with us. No matter how hard I tried to concentrate on the words Nova was stringing together, my thoughts wandered to the idea of a man's hands on my body. The heat. The tension. A hot flush rushed through my body, causing me to cross my legs to stop myself from giving anything away. I hadn’t felt this feeling in a long time. I wanted more. I needed more. I needed a real man’s touch. 

“Where do you go?” 

I jolted my head back to Nova’s attention. Whoops. 

“Sorry, just mentally checking off what I need to pack.” 

Nova shrugged, she was used to it by now. Ever since I’d stopped sleeping with Thomas I tended to go into daydreams a lot. Lack of creative expression, Nova had suggested. But let’s be real, it was 100% horniness. 

With Nova distracted, I slipped my good pairs of lace panties into my suitcase. Just in case. 

“Really? You’re packing your own stationary?” Nova asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“I like to write to my parents. Have a problem?” 

“Nope.” Nova says popping the ‘p’ and shaking her head.

“At least I don’t have Mr Snuggles squashed in my bag.” 

Nova narrows her eyes at me, biting the inside of her cheek. Point 1: y/n. 

“I’m all packed, I think.” Smiling, I change the subject, not waiting for Nova’s sarcastic come back, feeling accomplished in my case. 

Nova quickly looks over the open luggage, nodding in approval at what I have squeezed in. 

“I’m going to go find Fleur and see how she’s going.” Nova smiled, “Say hi to your parents for me.” She winked before swiftly exiting. 

A small sigh escapes my lips as I grab out my personalised stationery. I slowly pull out the chair from my desk and sit, vibrating with excitement about divulging my new adventure to my parents. 

‘Dear Mother and Father, 

Hi, it’s your favourite child. 

Writing to let you know that I have been chosen to join Madame Olympe Maxime and a few other select students to go to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. We leave Beauxbatons tomorrow. 

Nova and I are wanting to put our names into the goblet of fire. We are hoping for eternal glory and 1000 Galleons, which we would split if one of us won! 

Fingers crossed I get picked and can bring fame to our name. 

I miss you both and can’t wait to see you again soon. 

Also, Nova says hello. 

Lots of love, 

Y/n xo’

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[digital-corruption]

Now to celebrate 100+ followers, a one-shot I wrote last night. :) I can write romantic fluff when I feel like it. lol

All the Time in the World

A JakexMC one-shot.

“Promise me you will never go to Duskwood.”

Ha! As if I could! I was a bit disappointed in Jake at that point, I thought he had already figured out I lived on the other side of the world. What kind of hacker was he? As if I could just hop in the car and drive over? Or did he really think I could afford an on the spur of the moment international plane ticket? Of course I was just messing with Phil. Even putting aside the lingering effects of the pandemic and the reluctance to travel internationally, there is no way I could afford it.

I was grateful that the events in Duskwood came to a close last year. It wasn’t a pretty outcome, but Hannah was found alive. Overtime my connections with the others waned, not to mention Jake quickly went back into hiding. At nearly two years on, it was becoming a distant memory, almost a dream.

What have I accomplished in two years? Well I’m still a barista working in a cafe, putting up with fussy customers during the morning rushes, trying my best to please them. Not exactly where I saw myself after getting my degree, but here I am.

I found myself daydreaming a lot at work lately of how nice it would be to be swept off my feet and taken away from this crappy life. And then I'd be snapped back to reality by some prick complaining I put too much milk in his coffee.

Don’t get me wrong, not all customers are bad. Actually a vast majority are quite nice, but the nasty ones have a way of standing out and making you want to splash hot water in their faces. There has been a new customer the past couple of weeks, a very unassuming one, who comes in and orders his coffee, then sits at the table in the corner for the rest of the morning with his laptop. I don’t know why he stands out to me when he tries not to. Maybe I have a thing now for guys who wear hoods? He always gives me such a gentle smile that warms my heart. By the time the morning rush is over, he’s gone. My coworkers never seem to notice him so I wondered sometimes if I just imagined him.

One day as the last of the rush cleared, I stood back and sighed. I noticed that the hooded man is still there. Oh no, my boss has a policy against people who only order one drink and then hang around too long. So I have to approach him and encourage him to order another coffee. I don’t like pushing the nice ones.

“Um, you finished your coffee, would you like another?” I asked hesitantly.

“Sure,” he smiled and pulled out a 20. I started to walk off when he cleared his throat. “Can you add another drink to that order?”

“Yes, of course,” I turned back and smiled. “What did you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry?” I looked at him confused.

“You look like you could use a break,” he smiled gently.

My heart skipped a beat. I've been hit on by customers of course. It is the curse of being female. But he seemed so genuine that I thought, Why the hell not?

“Ok, I’ll be right back,” I blushed walking off.

I quickly put together his coffee exactly how he likes it and my cappuccino. After ringing it up on the register and printing the receipt, I told Jeremy, my coworker, that I’m taking my 15 minutes break. I took the tray of drinks over and put them down at the table with the change and receipt for payment. As I sat down across from the man with the hood, he put his laptop away. There was an awkward silence that I had to break.

“Your accent, you’re not from around here,” I commented.

“I am not,” he responded.

“Are you here for business or...?” I queried.

“For personal reasons, but I look to be staying a while,” he explained.

“So, uh, what do you do on that laptop everyday?” I asked.

“IT work. I can literally do it anywhere in the world,” he smiled.

“So you choose to do it here?” I questioned, then took a sip of my cappuccino.

“I like the ambience here,” he winked.

I blushed and looked into my cup. “Maybe you could tell that to all of the 1-star reviews,” I grumbled.

“1-star reviews?” he looked at me confused.

“Sorry, it’s just annoying as a small business to put your heart and soul into work everyday, then turn around and find a snarky 1-star review because you didn’t smile at them right. ‘The woman on the register was rude!’,” I explained, quoting one from the other day.

“I could make those reviews go away, if you would like,” he responded nonchalantly.

I looked at him wide-eyed, “Uh, no, it’s fine. Sorry, I was ranting.”

“Then maybe I’ll leave twenty 5-star reviews for the woman on the register,” he smiled at me again.

Oh boy, he was laying it on thick. I sipped my cappuccino to avoid this.

“Are you dating anyone?” he asked suddenly.

I nearly spat out my cappuccino at the question.

“No, not at the moment,” I replied, reaching a new level of red.

“Not at the moment?” he questioned.

“Yeah, well, there was someone, but he kind of disappeared on me. It’s fine, it was a long-distance thing and was probably never going to work out,” I wondered why the hell I even brought it up as I shifted nervously in the chair.

“What if he didn’t know how to apologise to you?” he looked down at his coffee. “What if he spent weeks trying to come up with the right words, but couldn’t find them?”

I looked at him puzzled. He looked back up at me intensely. “He was a very long distance away...”

“He can do what he does anywhere. He is not tied down to a location,” the very peculiar man explained.

“He would need to prove it was him,” my voice shook.

The man pulled out his phone and flicked through a few screens, then left it open on the table for me to see - the chat history I knew far too well.

My hand covered my mouth. I fought tears. “He was in a bad situation.”

“A situation he spent the better part of the last two years getting out of,” he took his phone back.

“Call me,” I whispered.

He looked at me confused, then he went to my contact and hit the call button.

My phone rang, I pulled it out of my pocket. “Yes, this is her. That’s my mom!” I exclaimed, standing up dramatically to make a scene. “She’s at what hospital?” I hastily went back to the counter. “No, thank you, I’ll be there right away.”

Jeremy looked at me with concern, “Go, we’ll cover for you.”

“Um, it sounds bad. I might not be able to make the morning shift tomorrow,” I lied.

“Don’t worry about it. Just go,” Jeremy gestured.

I went out the back and hung up my apron. Then I grabbed my purse and head back out the front. The man in the hood was no longer at his table. I walked out the front door and looked around, but couldn’t find him. I headed down the street towards the station when a hand reached out from around the corner and grabbed my arm, pulling me to him.

Our faces were less than an inch to each other. I could feel his warm breath on my lips. His fingers brushed my hair behind my ear.

“Do you forgive me?” he whispered.

I closed the gap between our mouths, kissing him passionately and wrapping my arms around him. As he kissed me back, his hand rested at the back of my neck while the other wrapped around my waist.

I pulled away slowly and smiled, “Yes, Jake, I forgive you.” After a pause, I added, “I do have a lot of questions.”

“I have all the time in the world,” Jake smiled.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The Reward of Suffering (Part Six)

previous chapter

Summary: Spencer comes face to face with a ghost from the past.

A/N: Hey... how y’all doin? Long time no see, huh? Sorry about that - hopefully this extra long update will make up for my absence. This has definitely been my favorite part thus far, and I had so much fun writing it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it. You guys know the drill by now: SPOILERS for season 12. Also, shoutout to @zhuzhubii​ for posting the absolute best set of gifs right in time for this update - you’re the coolest.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death, mentions of rape, mentions of mental illness, kidnapping, choking

Word Count: 10.3k

           With every clack of my heels on the concrete floors, the nervous feeling in my gut grows into full blown nausea. It’s been nearly two months since I last walked these halls, but somehow it feels like a lifetime has passed. Considering everything that transpired in the last forty-eight hours, it makes sense that I feel that way.

           I hadn’t been on the team when Lindsey Vaughn first came into the picture ten years ago, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t familiar. At the time, I thought nothing of the kind neighbor that I sometimes passed in the stairwell on my way to Spencer’s apartment. I mean, why would I? I had no reason to be suspicious. Our interactions never went beyond the usual pleasantries – polite smiles and the occasional greeting – and I never gave her a second thought.

           Maybe if I had, Cassie wouldn’t be dead, and Spencer’s mother wouldn’t be missing.

           I shake my head at the thought. Now isn’t the time to ruminate on what ifs. I would have plenty of time to blame myself when all of this is over. Instead of torturing myself, I focus on trying to steady my breathing as I come to a stop just before I reach the interview room of the Milburn Correctional Facility.

           I know what lies beyond that door, and I’m equal parts excited and worried. Excited, because I’d finally be able to see Spencer after two long months of daydreaming about when I’d finally hold him in my arms again. Of course, it was very possible that Spencer wouldn’t want to see me. After all, I promised to keep his mother safe, and instead of doing that, I let myself get swept up in moving in to my apartment, and now Diana was God knows where.

           I was so sure that he wouldn’t want to see me that I’d initially suggested that Emily be the one to go to the prison and get him. My idea was met with a sad smile and a pat on the shoulder.

           “I think that if it was anyone but you standing there when they open that door, it’d break his heart.”

           Her reassurances did little to assuage my nerves. I spent the entire ride here running over every possible scenario that I could imagine, scrambling to form some kind of game plan. But now that I was here, any semblance of preparedness left me the second the guard reached for the door handle.

           “You ready, ma’am?”

           Yes.

           No.

           I don’t trust my voice, so I settle on nodding my head. The door opens with a groan, rusty hinges creaking in protest, and with shaky legs and a heart that threatens to beat out of my chest, I step into the doorway.

           It’s like the world stops turning on its axis when his eyes meet mine. Those familiar pools of caramel stare back at me with such an intensity that I force myself to look away, petrified at the prospect of seeing disappointment in them. 

           I trail my eyes over his frame, drinking in every inch of him - every bruise and every scrape feeling like a dagger to my heart. My eyes linger on the bandage adorning his left arm, before trailing down to the one on his leg. Emily had warned me about happened, about Spencer injuring himself in order to secure his safety. It was smart of him - that I knew - but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t horrified. 

           His hair has gotten longer, and his curls hang limply around his face. The usually clean-shaven Spencer I once knew was a thing of the past - replaced now by a more disheveled, scruffier version.

           Clean-shaven or not, he still looks just as breathtaking as always. 

           I hesitantly raise my eyes up to his again. He’s staring at me still, mouth parted in shock. He doesn’t look angry, just confused, and that fills me with a tiny sliver of hope.

           “Hi, Spence,” I murmur, voice thick with emotion. It’s not until I speak that I realize I’m crying, and I hastily wipe at my cheeks with my shirtsleeve.

           The dazed look in Spencer’s eyes washes away when he hears my voice and he blinks hard.

           “What… H-How are you…?” he trails off, eyes moving up and down my body.

           It feels so fucking good to hear his voice again, and I find myself unable to hold back a sob.

           “M’ here to take you home,” I choke out.

           It’s like all the tension in Spencer’s body is expelled at once and his shoulders slump in relief. I open my mouth to elaborate, to explain how Emily had managed to pull this off, but I’m stunned into silence when Spencer’s body collides with mine. I hadn’t even had time to process that he was moving before his arms snake around me, tugging me forward until there’s no space in between our bodies. Spencer’s hands collect fistfuls of my shirt, clinging desperately to the fabric as he nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck.

           Once I get over the initial shock, I’m hugging him back, arms locked around his torso in a vicelike grip. He doesn’t smell the same – the usual fragrance of cinnamon and vanilla is long gone, replaced with that of some generic detergent – but the way his broad shoulders feel underneath my palms is something so familiar that I can’t help but smile against his chest.

           This is still my Spencer.

           Spencer lets out a shaky breath against my skin and I let out an involuntary shudder at the feeling.

           “Missed you so fucking much,” Spencer whispers. “I-I can’t believe you’re here. Thought I was imagining it.” Spencer takes a shaky breath in, nuzzling further into my neck. His next words are muffled from the way his lips press against my skin, but I’m still able to make out the quiet ‘I’m sorry’.

           “You’re sorry?” I hiccup, eyebrows scrunching up in disbelief. I attempt to pull away so that I can look at him, but Spencer only tightens his grip on me. Something about it makes my chest feel incredibly warm, but I push that feeling aside for now. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I should’ve done more – I should’ve visited more often. I let myself get busy, and if I’d just been more careful, then your m-mom… she wouldn’t be-”

           “Stop that,” Spencer interrupts, and this time he’s the one that pulls away. He holds me at arm’s length and those beautiful brown eyes lock with mine. “This is absolutely not your fault.”

           Spencer’s hands come up to cup either side of my face and his thumbs wipe away at the tears on my cheeks. “You’ve done so much for me – for her. I’m sorry that I took you off the list. Things were getting so bad here, and if something would have happened to you…” Spencer pauses, closing his eyes and leaning down until his forehead rests against mine. “It was never because I didn’t want to see you, I promise. And… And your letter - I can’t even begin to explain how much that helped. I’m sorry that I couldn’t write back. I didn’t know what to say. Especially not after…”

           He doesn’t elaborate, but I’m able to fill in the blanks myself. I bring my hand up and rest it on top of his.

           “S’okay, Spence. I know,” I whisper. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I understand.”

           Spencer hums and a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

           “Time to get you out of here, Doc.” I remove his hand from my face and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s go get your mom back.”

           Spencer opens his eyes and for the first time in two months I’m on the receiving end of my favorite smile in the whole world.

           I lead him from the room, never once removing my hand from his. Now that I have him back, I don’t ever want to let go.

--

           For the second time today, the clacking of my heels against the concrete floor is the only sound that can be heard. Spencer moves silently beside me, his face pulled into a somber expression as we stalk down the long corridor. His hand brushes against mine, and I long to reach out and intertwine our fingers like I had only hours before. I suppress the urge, stealing one last, poorly concealed glance at him before I settle my gaze on the door at the end of the hall.

           In the last several hours, the entire case had been flipped upside down. We’d been wrong all along – Scratch wasn’t to blame for the shit show that had transpired over the last three months. It’d been an easy enough mistake to make. After the incident with Tara’s brother, Scratch was the obvious choice. Pair that with the fact that Spencer had been drugged and we had no reason to suspect anyone else.

           Cat Adams was the last thing on everyone’s mind when Mexico happened. It’d been over a year since Spencer outsmarted her in that restaurant, and she was very much out of sight and out of mind. She was in a maximum-security prison, for fuck’s sake. That alone should have rendered her unable to carry out a scheme this convoluted.

           But apparently that meant nothing, because Cat had somehow managed to be the mastermind behind this whole ordeal, perfectly orchestrating the entire thing from her cell in solitary confinement – using Lindsey Vaugh as her metaphorical puppet on a string. We’d sorely underestimated Cat, and our arrogance had come back to bite us all in the ass.

           A guard that stands at the end of the hall opens the door for us, and I feel an intense rush of foreboding as we step into the room. The sound of the guard closing the door behind us brings a sense of finality to the situation; there is no turning back now. Either we walk out of here knowing Diana’s whereabouts, or we miss the mark completely and loose Diana in the process.

           I cast a worried look at Spencer, whose eyes are trained on the double-sided glass. The tension has returned to his shoulders, and his fists are clenched tightly at his sides. There’s a sort of fiery determination in his eyes – a sort of menacing resolve that I’d never seen in him before.

           Spencer looks intimidating, and nothing like the Spencer that was led from the courtroom three months ago. I pull my eyes away in favor of looking through the glass.

           Reid had been able to see through Cat’s mind games the first time, but the Cat that sat on the other side of that door is a far cry from the one he encountered a year ago. If she’d looked cold and calculating before, she looks downright deranged now.

           “Are you sure you want to go in there alone?” I ask after a moment. “I could-”

           “No,” Spencer cuts me off. His tone is hard and definite, warning me not to argue. “I can’t ask you to do that. Emily shouldn’t have made you come in the first place.”

           “Emily told me to come with you because she knew that there was nothing she could do to make me stay.” I pause long enough to shoot him a weak smile. “Hope you enjoyed your three-month break from me, because I’m going to practically glued to your side from now on. You’ll be dying to get rid of me in a month’s time.”

           Spencer’s lips twitch, threatening to turn up into a smile.

           “I sincerely doubt that.”

           “We’ll see,” I breeze. “But I’m serious, Spence. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here the whole time – I’m not letting you go in there alone, and I’m not going to leave you.”

           “Promise?” Spencer asks, finally pulling his eyes away from the window in favor of looking at me. There’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and the weight of his gaze is so heavy that I worry I might buckle under it.

           I reach for his hand and hook my pinky finger around his, lifting our intertwined hands to eye level.

           “I promise.”

           Spencer’s pinky finger squeezes mine and he closes his eyes.

           “I don’t deserve you.”

           “You deserve the world, Spence.”

           For a moment I think he’s going to say something else, but then Spencer’s lips press into a tight line and he only nods in response. He releases my hand and I let it fall limply at my side. Spencer rolls his shoulders back, and that stony expression returns to his face. He reaches out and pulls open the door, and I follow closely behind him at he steps over the threshold.

           It’s as if I’m invisible; Cat doesn’t even spare me a glance when I enter the room. Her eyes, narrowed and sparkling with amusement, hone in on Spencer immediately.

           “Spencie,” she greets, smiling deviously up at him.

           “Where’s my mother?” Spencer asks, completely devoid of emotion.

           “I missed you.”

           “What did you and Lindsey do to her? How did you-”

           Cat raises a hand, effectively cutting him off. She points a finger at him, and the smile that she previously wore is replaced by a grimace.

           “Now, stop. You don’t get to walk in here and hiss at me like I’m the criminal. No – we’re going to do this my way.” Cat kicks the chair that sits on the opposite side of the table and Spencer reaches out to grab it. “Have a seat.”

           Spencer complies and Cat’s smile returns.

           “How was prison? Did you like it?”

           “No.”

           Cat hums.

           “It’s not fun, is it?”

           “Unlike you, I didn’t deserve to be there,” Spencer retorts.

           Cat leans forward, crossing her arms before resting them on the metal table.

           “How did you stay sane? A brain like yours needs stimulation in such a gray place.”

           “I worked in the laundry room and I played chess.”

           “That’s three, maybe four hours, tops. What about the other twenty?”

           “I read.”

           Cat shakes her head. “That’s still not enough. You have to… go someplace.” She taps the side of her head. “Up here. Or else you go crazy. Do you want to see where I go? I’ll show you.” Cat crooks a finger at Spencer, and I tense at the gesture. The idea of that psychotic bitch getting any closer to him makes my skin crawl. I clench my fists together and the feeling of my nails digging into my palms is enough to ground me.

           Spencer leans forward, mimicking Cat’s relaxed position. She reaches a hand out towards him, and before I can think better of it, I speak up.

           “Hands off,” I warn.

           Cat halts her movements and fixes me with an irritated expression, looking me up and down distastefully before turning her attention back to Spencer.

           “Close your eyes,” she instructs him. Spencer complies. “Good. Now keep them closed. Sit back and relax. When you open your eyes, I want you to look at me like I’m the first woman you’ve seen after being in prison for three months.”

           I clench my jaw at that. Something stirs in my chest – something foreign and possessive that has me bristling. I tense, watching closely as Spencer opens his eyes and smiles that beautiful smile at Cat. My stomach turns painfully at the sight.

           “Hello, Cat,” Spencer greets her, and all the contempt his tone previously held is gone – replaced with a neutrality that bordered on happiness.

           Cat lets out a pleased laugh.

           “You’re here!” she exclaims, throwing her arms out as she gestures about the room. “You’re really here.”

           “There is nowhere else I would rather be,” Spencer replies, sounding startlingly genuine.

           This is all an act, I remind myself. Spencer’s just playing a part. None of this is real.

           Cat crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at him.

           “You’re good at this. You’re so good at this that I almost believe that you don’t want to kill me.”

           “I don’t want to kill you,” Spencer says with a shake of his head.

           “No?”

           “No.”

           Cat narrows her eyes at him.

           “What if I let your mother die?” she inquires. “Then would you kill me? Or would you just…” Cat trails of as she leans forward. “… Hurt me? Would you pin me down and leave bruises that don’t go away?”

           I swallow hard against the bile that threatens to crawl its way up my throat. Spencer might not want to kill her, but I do.

           “Is that what you want?”

           Cat shrugs her shoulders.

           “I guess I just want to know if you would – if you could.”

           Spencer gives a small shake of his head.

           “No.”

           “No?” Cat taunts, cocking her head to the side.

           “It’s not the kind of man I am.”

           Cat’s face drops and her eyes narrow into slits.

           “Do me a favor and tell your little chaperone over there to step aside, because we’re going to play another game. And this time, we’re going to find out exactly what kind of man you are.”

           Spencer’s eyes flit to me and he nods towards the door. I open my mouth to argue, but the pleading look in his eyes has me clamping it shut. It’s okay, his eyes seem to tell me. I know you promised, but I’ll be fine.

Cat waves at me as I reluctantly move towards the door. When the door clicks shut behind me, Spencer takes it as his invitation to continue.

           “Let’s play,” his voice sounds through the speaker to my left.

           “Let’s!” Cat exclaims before resting her head in her hand.

           “So, is it the same game as last time?” Spencer inquires. “I answer every question you ask honestly?”

           “No,” Cat sighs out. “This time you get to ask the questions.”

           Spencer raises an eyebrow at her. “About what?”

           “Well, I know a secret about you. And you can ask me as many questions as you like to figure it out. But you only get one guess as to what it is. If you guess correctly, I take your phone, I call our friend Lindsey, and I tell her to release your dear mother unharmed. If you don’t…” Cat trails off, before mimicking bringing a gun up to her mouth and firing.

           Crazy fucking bitch.

           “Is there a clock?”

           “There’s always a clock.” Cat holds out her hand, eyes flicking down to Spencer’s watch. “Give it to me.”

           I cringe when Spencer hesitates – I know what he must be thinking. That’s Gideon’s watch. The only thing he has left of him. I’d never seen Spencer without it in the two years I’ve known him.

           Spencer reluctantly slips the watch off of his wrist and hands it over.

           Cat smirks and slides the watch onto her arm.

           “Now, you’ll have four hours.”

           “Do you want to give me a hint before we start?”

           Cat chuckles. “Do I look like a girl that gives hints?”            “Actually, you do.”

           Cat takes pause, looking Spencer up and down before speaking.

           “Okay, how about this; it’s a secret you’ll never admit to.”

--

           “I know what the secret is.”

           Cat quirks an eyebrow up at Spencer.

           “You do?”

           He nods. “Why else would you put me through all this?”

           “Ooh, phrasing it in the form of a question that way it doesn’t count as a guess. Very smart, Doctor.”

           “I’m gonna walk you through a scenario, and your face is going to tell me how close I am,” Spencer murmurs, an amused smile on his lips. He leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. “From the moment I arrested you, you watched and waited for the right time to take your revenge. When you learned I was going to Mexico, you took it. You and Lindsey framed me for murder so I’d be put in a prison and treated like a criminal, and then you kidnapped my mother so I would know how it feels to have a parent manipulated, because you want to prove that you and I are the same. Am I right?”

           Cat feigns a yawn in response.

           “Mm. Sorry, I couldn’t hold that in any longer. What were you saying?”

           “Psychopaths tend to get bored easily.”

           “You’re right. Let’s speed this up,” Cat sighs with a roll of her eyes. She pushes away from the table, standing up and walking over to Spencer’s side of the table. I fight the urge to barge in when I see her take a seat on his lap. Cat runs a hand down Spencer’s chest before she continues. “Shall we? What do you think about all the pain you’ve suffered in your life? What would I capitalize on, do you think? Is it… the death of your mentor, SSA Jason Gideon?”

           I can see the way Spencer’s jaw clenches and it makes my heart lurch painfully in my chest.

           “No, because we caught the man who killed him.”

           “What about Agent Morgan and your guilt over not visiting his little boy?” Cat whispers in his ear as her hands fiddle with the collar of his suit.

           “I was in prison.”

           “Yeah, but you had time before that. Why didn’t you go?” she presses as she grazes her nails down the length of his throat. I see red when her hand loosely circles around his neck. Spencer absolutely loathes being touched by anyone other than those closest to him, and I’ve no doubt that he’s horribly uncomfortable.

           “Truthfully, I got distracted. I was trying to figure out a way to help my mom. She didn’t have time. Morgan, Savannah, and little Bobby did. So, there’s absolutely no shame in admitting that. Morgan would understand.”

           “I agree. That’s why that’s not the secret,” Cat divulges, brushing her nose against the side of his face before pulling away and standing up. I let out the breath that I’d apparently been holding and allow myself a moment to run a shaky hand through my hair. If I was getting this frazzled from being a bystander to this conversation, I can only imagine how Spencer must be feeling.

           When I look back up at the mirror, Spencer’s looking over his shoulder at me through the glass. I know he can’t see me, but I can’t help but feel guilty for losing my cool.

           “Good job, Spence,” I murmur to myself as I pull out my phone. After a few rings, Rossie answers.

           “Go ahead, Y/N. You’re on speaker.”

           “Cat has an extremely deep background on Spencer. She knows about everything – Gideon’s death, Derek leaving the team, his mom’s condition,” I inform them, tapping my foot nervously against the concrete.

           “She’s throwing him off-balance.”

           “Yes, but Spencer also purposefully gave the wrong name of Derek’s son and she didn’t correct him,” I point out.

           “She must’ve gotten her hands on Reid’s confidential FBI file,” Emily chimes in. “It would mention pertinent team information but it wouldn’t name Morgan’s son for confidentiality reasons.”

           “We were thinking she’s been getting help from someone inside the prison. This goes deeper than that,” Rossi sighs.

           “Call us if she says anything else of any importance,” Emily signs off. I mumble a quick goodbye before pocketing my phone and turning my attention back to the window.

           “Working deductively, the secret wouldn’t be any of the topics you’ve already volunteered, because you wouldn’t want to make it easy on me,” Spencer reasons. He clasps his hands together and sits back in his seat before raising an eyebrow in challenge.

           “Genius, truly,” Cat taunts sarcastically as she twirls the watch around her finger.

           “So, what is left that I wouldn’t want to admit?” Spencer muses, eyebrows drawn together in contemplation. Cat shrugs her shoulders at him and another moment of tense silence passes.

           “Love,” Spencer utters, and Cat’s incessant twirling of the watch comes to an abrupt halt.

           Got her.

           “Is that what this is all about – love? For my mother?” Spencer whispers, and when Cat fails to respond, he shakes his head. “No, not for her. For you. You want me to admit that I’m actually in love with you.”

           Cat purses her lips together.

           “Don’t get me wrong – I love my fairy tales as much as the next girl – but I’m not delusional,” Cat says as she crosses her arms.

           “Are you sure about that?”

           “Very sure. So sure, in fact, that I had Lindsey leave a clue for you in that little scrapbook in your apartment.”

           I scrunch my face up at that. The clue in question had been a message inscribed on the back of an old photograph;xx-xy. We’d originally deduced that the message, the female and male chromosomes, was to confirm that Lindsey was working with Scratch. But now? Now I didn’t have a clue what Cat was talking about.

           “I couldn’t have you come all the way down here and make a guess until I was positive. That is…” Cat pauses for dramatic effect, a sly smile on her lips. “… until I tested positive.” Cat punctuates her words by placing both hands on her stomach, and the action makes me raise a hand up to my mouth in shock.

           No. There’s no fucking way.

           “What, you’re pregnant?” Spencer asks, confused.

           “No, we’re pregnant.”

           I feel my knees buckle upon hearing the admission and I blindly reach for the chair to my left.

           This cannot be happening.

           “No,” Spencer says, shaking his head adamantly.

           “Oh, yes,” Cat replies. “Mazel tov.”

--

           “Here you are, ma’am.”

           I reach for the file, my movements stilted and awkward.

           “Thank you,” I mumble to the guard, who gives me a peculiar look before leaving the room. I waste no time in flipping through the file, heart pounding wildly in my chest as my eyes skim over the page until –

           Positive.

           I slam the file down on the table.

           “Fuck!” I yell out in frustration. I’m thankful then for the thick, concrete walls, because neither Spencer nor Cat show any sign of having heard my little outburst. I place both palms down on the cool metal of the table, my breaths coming out in haggard puffs as I try to rationalize it all.

           “- not possible,” Spencer’s voice coming through the speaker snaps me out of my thoughts. I cut my eyes to the window to find Spencer pacing the room. “Even if you are pregnant, the baby’s not mine.” Spencer comes to a stop behind his chair and shoves his hands in his pockets.

           “Except for the part where it is.”

           “That’s completely preposterous. You’ve been in prison,” Spencer points out as he once again takes a seat across from her.

           “So have you.”

           “And we’ve never-”

           “I know. We’ve never…” Cat trails off with a suggestive waggle of her brows. “Ask me how I did it. Come on, ask me.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes, but he indulges her nonetheless.

           “How did you do it?”

           “I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time. And I gave her very specific instruction on how to get you in the mood,” Cat admits.

           “What?” Spencer snorts cynically. “Did she pretend to be you?”

           “Why, would that have worked?”

           Spencer leans forward and shoots Cat a cruel kind of smile.

           “No.”

           For a split second Cat’s face falls, but only for a moment and then she goes right back to smiling that wretched grin.

           “Yeah, I know, I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid hot or not list,” Cat sighs. “So, ask me again.”

           “How did you do it?”

           “I told her to pretend to be Y/N.”

           For a second I think that I misheard her – the blood rushing in my ears almost overpowered her admission – but the way Spencer’s entire body tenses before he looks back at the window tells me that I didn’t.

           Why me?

           Spencer gulps hard before he turns back around. I find my way to the chair nearest me and collapse into it.

           “How do you know about her?”

            Cat gives him an unimpressed look.

           “It wasn’t hard, seeing as she’s your very best friend in the whole wide world,” Cat teases as her eyes wander from Spencer to the glass behind him. She waves at me, endlessly amused, before turning her attention back to Spencer. “But that isn’t all that she is to you – is it Spencie? At least, Lindsey didn’t think so. At first, she thought the two of you were tangled up in some kind of sexy little tryst. But then I had Lindsey do a little digging, and, well, that’s when we found out about the boyfriend.”

           “Stop.”

           “Oh, it seems I’ve struck a nerve!” Cat trills gleefully. “Shall we call her in here to join us? I know she’s just on the other side of that glass. I’m sure she’d love to hear all about how pathetic little Spencer Reid pines after her like a school boy with a crush.” She pouts her bottom lip out in mock sadness. “There’s just something about unrequited love that really tugs at my heart strings.”

           Oh.

           For the second time since arriving here, my hand comes up to cover my mouth as I struggle to process Cat’s words. She can’t be right, can she? Spencer had never done anything that eluded to him seeing me as any more than a best friend. Perhaps she got it wrong. Lindsey saw me come and go and she just assumed it was something that it wasn’t. There was no way that Spencer -

           “I said stop.”

           The underlying plea in his voice is enough to make tears well in my eyes. If what Cat is saying is true, that means that Lindsey . . . 

           “All it took was Lindsey saying she was Y/N for you to crumble like a house of cards. You really made it too easy.”

           “You’re lying.”

           Cat chuckles. “Listen to you, you’re not even trying to deny it.”

           “It didn’t happen,” Spencer argues, voice so quiet that I have to strain to hear it.

           “Hey, I was thinking, if it’s a boy, we should definitely call him Spencie Jr.”

           Spencer pushes back from the table so abruptly that both Cat and I flinch, and he’s almost out the door when Cat delivers one final dig.

           “-But if it’s a girl, I think we should call her Y/N. I mean after all; she played such a huge role in in her own conception!”

           The sound of the door slamming behind him as he trudges into the room is enough to make me bolt up from my seat. Spencer comes to a stop at the center of the room, eyes wide and full of remorse as he looks over at me.

           “I-I… I’m…”

           I try my best to muster up a smile but I worry that it comes out more as a grimace.

           “Later,” I murmur, and Spencer winces before nodding his head in defeat. I walk over to the table and open up the file. “She’s not lying about being pregnant.”

           Spencer joins me at the table, eyes skimming over the document.

           “She’s three months, and the timeline matches, but that doesn’t mean-”

           Spencer yanks the file off the table and hurls it at the window, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

           I take a step back and Spencer curses under his breath.

           “I’m sorry. It’s not you,” he sighs. “I just… need a minute.”

           I press my lips together and nod.

           “Take all the time you need. M’gonna go call Emily,” I murmur.

           Spencer closes his eyes and lets his head hang low.

           “Yeah, okay,” he whispers dejectedly, and the despair in his voice is enough to stop me in my tracks.

           “Spence?” I call out. He looks up at me from underneath his lashes, more than a little bit timid and scared. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m not leaving you.”

            I open the door and step out of the room, but it doesn’t close before I hear the quiet ‘thank you’ drift from within.  

--

           Spencer waits until the door clicks shut behind her to push away from the table and head back into the interrogation room. He couldn’t bear the thought of her overhearing any more than she already had. As far as Spencer was concerned, Cat had just singlehandedly ruined the one good thing he had going for him, and at this point, he had nothing left to lose.

           “Let’s pretend you’re telling the truth,” Spencer starts. “That means I guessed it, right? The secret, the one I don’t want to admit to? It’s my child?”

           Cat looks up at him with bored eyes and Spencer feels his unease begin to give way to rage.

           “Is that your guess?” Cat asks. “You only get one, remember?”

           Spencer takes pause, before shaking his head.

           “No. It’s too easy,” he decides.

           “Believe me, getting pregnant with your baby was not easy,” Cat mutters, and Spencer’s lips press into a tight line. The implication of it is enough to make his skin crawl. He feels violated and absolutely disgusted, but still he tries to school his impression into one of indifference. Spencer thinks about his mom, scared and confused, and that’s enough incentive to make him focus on the task at hand.

           “You misunderstand. It’s too easy emotionally,” Spencer explains in a clipped tone as he sits down. “Because I can take your child from you. The child I had absolutely no role in creating, but a child that I would care for better than you.”

           “That’s rude,” Cat seethes as she slowly lifts her head from off of the table.

           “It’s true. You can’t be a mother, Cat. I’m not trying to insult you – it’s your psychological makeup. You literally do not have the emotional skills to care for another human being. You’d lose interest in your own baby the way a six-year-old loses interest in a pet hamster. This baby is simply a means to an end, which is to keep me here and playing your game, guessing like a fool and assuming something that I never should have assumed in the first place.”

           “And what would that be?”

           “My mother’s already dead,” Spencer says, and the words taste positively foul in his mouth. “She was dead before I walked in here”

           Cat’s lips pull into a frown.

           “She’s not dead-”

           “Yes, she is,” Spencer reiterates as he rises from his chair.

           “No, because that would be cheating and I don’t cheat. You cheat!” Cat panics, voice growing louder the closer Spencer gets to the door.

           “I’m done playing,” Spencer says as he turns away, reaching for the door knob.

           “Get back here!”

           Spencer pulls the door open. “Goodbye, Cat.”

           He has one foot out the door when;

           “I’ll let you talk to her!” Cat yells out as she slams her fist down on the table.

           Spencer lifts his eyes up from their spot on the floor, and it’s with a jolt of surprise that his eyes meet Y/N’s. It feels to him like it always does when he sees her – like some great relief that floods through his entire body in an instant. He feels guilty for it, now that she knows, but that doesn’t stop him from basking in it. The feeling grows when a triumphant smile graces her lips, one that says you’ve got her, Spence. You’ve got her right where you want her.

           Spencer is positively rejuvenated by that smile.

           He reluctantly pulls his gaze away from her and focuses back on Cat. He’s come too far now to fuck it all up.

           Spencer pulls his phone from the depths of his suit pocket and hands it to Cat. He watches on as she dials the number, and his heart beats so fast that he wonders if she can hear it. The sound of the dial tone ringing fills the room, and Spencer can only hope that the call will be long enough for Penelope to trace.

           “You’re early,” a voice that’s unmistakably Lindsey’s calls out. Spencer lets out a shaky breath of relief.

           “Yeah, I know.”

           “Did he guess?”

           “No, not yet,” Cat sighs. “We need proof of life.”

           “All right, hold on,” Lindsey says, exasperated, and her words are followed by several seconds of muffled rustling and what Spencer deems as some sort of liquid being poured.

           “Spencer!”

           His heart practically bursts out of his chest as he lunges forward, yanking the phone out of Cat’s hand and bringing it up to his ear.

           “Mom - mom, are you okay?”

           “I don’t… know-”

           Spencer opens his mouth to reply when the gut-wrenching sound of an explosion rips through the tiny phone speakers, distorted and so loud that it makes Spencer’s ears ring.

           “Mom!” Spencer desperately yells into the phone, but all he gets in reply is a ‘gotta go’ from Lindsey before the line goes dead. Spencer growls out a string of swears, throwing his phone down on the table before leaning over the table.

           “What the hell was that?” he yells, and he’s vaguely aware of the sound of the door opening, but he can’t focus on anything other than his own rising panic.

           “I don’t know,” Cat replies, opening her mouth to continue but Spencer cuts her off.

           “Lindsey said you were early. Was that a signal?” he bellows.

           “Spence, come on,” Y/N tries to interject. Spencer feels her hand on his shoulder but he shrugs it off before bringing his fist down on the table.

           “Was that a prearranged signal to kill my mother?!” Spencer snarls, eyes wide and teeth barred. He feels positively feral, images of his mother in all sorts of terrible states of distress flashing through his mind like some grotesque picture show. “Tell me the truth!”

           “No! I am!” Cat shouts back.

           “Tell me the truth!”

           “I am!” Cat spits out, eyes flashing angrily. “You wanna know the truth? Your mother is an Alzheimer’s-ridden moron who’s getting dumber by the day and if she’s dead, it’s your fault!”

           Something comes over Spencer then, and in an instant, he’s shoving the table out of the way and pushing Cat against the wall. His hands find purchase on her throat, not dissimilar to how hers had on his hours before, but instead of dragging his fingers against her neck, Spencer’s clamping down on it as hard as he can, taking great pleasure in the way she gasps for air as his hands tighten. Everything around him fades away until all that he can focus on is that way that her pulse feels under his hands – the way it starts off strong, before tapering, slower and slower until he can barely even palpate it anymore.

           “I’m going to kill you,” Spencer hears himself whisper as he presses down hard on her windpipe. “M’gonna fucking kill you.”

           Cat’s eyes are fluttering closed now, and Spencer shouldn’t enjoy the way the light in her eyes starts to dim. He shouldn’t but he does – in fact, it prompts him to press harder and harder and –

           A harsh yank pulls Spencer away from Cat, and as soon as his hands begin to loosen Cat splutters in an attempt to catch her breath.

           “Spencer, she is pregnant,” Y/N yells in his ear, and just like that his tunnel vison fades away and Spencer feels the adrenaline leave his body. He only realizes that his hands are still on Cat’s throat when Y/N yanks at his arms again. “Fucking let her go, Spencer!”

           His entire body goes limp and he allows himself to be drug away from Cat and out of the room. Spencer’s heart still pounds and his blood is still roaring in his ears, but the satisfaction has given away to shame. He steals a glance at cat as he’s being pulled from the room, and despite her ruffled appearance, she’s grinning at him – smiling as if to say see? I told you that you were just like me.

           Spencer stumbles into the other room, steadying himself on the wall to keep from faceplanting onto the cold hard floor. Now that the adrenaline has expelled itself from his body, he’s left shaky and panting and ashamed.

           The feeling of Y/N’s eyes on him as he braces himself on the wall only exacerbates his mortification. What will she think of me now? Will she think me to be some kind of monster? Spencer wouldn’t blame her - he’s held that same opinion of himself for months now.

           Spencer stands there, face turned downwards as he catches his breath, and when he can take the weight of her gaze no longer, he darts out of the room and down the corridor.

           Being alone is preferable to being a disappointment, Spencer thinks as he flees the room.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to find him sitting in the floor, knees to his chest with his face downturned. Spencer hears her before he sees her, and he prepares himself for the yelling that’s surely to come.

           She surprises him when she slides her back down the wall until she’s sitting beside him, legs sprawled out in front of her. He doesn’t look up – fearful of what he might see when he looks into those beautiful eyes of hers. There had been love there, before all of this happened. Not the kind of love that was reflected in his own, but it was love just the same and Spencer thinks that it might kill him to see that love replaced with disgust. So he doesn’t look. Instead, Spencer just sits there, slumped over and pathetic, hoping that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that his hands are shaking.

           “Richmond County police just reported a gas station explosion. One victim – male. Whatever Lindsey did, we have to assume that your mom’s still alive,” Y/N murmurs. Spencer lets out a shaky breath and his grip on his knees tightens. It’s good news, and he’s grateful, but it does nothing for the overwhelming guilt that’s eating away at him.

           “Hey,” she whispers when he doesn’t reply. “Can you look at me, Spence? Wanna see those pretty brown eyes. Please?”

           Spencer chokes down the sob that threatens to come out. He shakes his head. 

           “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened in there. That… That’s not me. At least, I don’t want it to be,” Spencer whispers. “Emily should’ve sent someone else with me. I never wanted you to see me like that.”

           Her small, incredibly soft hand comes to rest on his own and Spencer closes his eyes at the feeling. Y/N flips his hand over and intertwines their fingers and Spencer can’t help but think that’s she’s showing him way more kindness than he could ever deserve. But he’s selfish, unable to deny himself of the feeling of her hand in his, so he clings onto her hand for dear life.

           “I’m so scared that this is who I am now,” Spencer mumbles, prompting her grip on his hand to tighten.

           “No, Spence. Don’t say that,” she chastises him. “You’re the best guy I know. Everyone has a breaking point – Cat just knows how to bring you to yours, is all.”

           “You… You don’t know…” Spencer trails off, still unwilling to look her in the eye.

           “I do know, Spence. I may not have been able to visit, but I asked about you every day,” she says as she shuffles closer to him. Spencer can smell her perfume now, subtle and sweet and comforting. “I know that two inmates, Frazier and Duerson, killed your friend in front of you. I know that they wanted you to move heroin for them, and I also know that if you didn’t, you would’ve been next. Anyone in your spot would’ve done the same.”

           “You wouldn’t have.”

           “Hell yes, I would have,” Y/N persists, and Spencer can’t help but to look up at her from behind where his unruly curls fall into his face. “I would have, Spence. If someone was threatening my life, you bet your ass I would have done the same thing. It doesn’t make you a bad person – doing whatever it takes to survive does not make you a bad person.”

           She must pick up on the hesitancy that lingers in Spencer’s eyes, because she decides to continue.

           “You know who does think like that? That – that in you doing what you had to do in order to survive somehow makes you a psychopath?” Y/N pauses long enough to point her thumb towards the direction of the interview room. “She does.”

           Spencer watches the realization wash over her face, and for a split second he’s terribly confused. It isn’t until a ghost of a smile pulls at her lips that he catches on, and when he does, he has to stop himself from doing something terribly stupid like kissing her.

           “She does,” Y/N reiterates when she sees that Spencer finally caught on. “Because she knows.”

           “That’s the secret,” Spencer thinks aloud. He pushes himself to his feet and begins to pace down the corridor. “The one that I don’t want to admit about myself.”

           “Hold up, Spence. Let’s talk through this, because she will not lose to you twice. She already said that this wasn’t about the two of you being the same.”

           Spencer scratches the back of his next, nodding to himself.

           “Then she’s all about the game. She thinks that I cheated the last time because I lied about her dad, so it’s integral that she beats me by following the rules.”

           “But, Spence, she’s the one that makes the rules. She can change them to ensure that she wins.”

           “-Which means that I’m locked in-”

           “Like she is.”

           “She needs me locked in, playing by her rules, a game I can’t win, so she-” Spencer pauses then, and an actual, honest to God smile creeps its way across his face – the kind of smile that was only reserved for Y/N. “I got it.”

           Spencer doesn’t elaborate, because he doesn’t need to. He can tell with one look that she understands, because somehow, she always does. Spencer offers her a hand and hoists her to her feet. 

          Spencer almost laughs as the two of them step back into the room. Of course, she would be the one to figure it out. It seems like she’s always saving him, these days.

--

           “Guess that’s one way to get you to put your hands on me.”

           Spencer feels a twinge of guilt, but he pushes it to the back of his mind as he holds a hand out to Cat.

           “Dance with me.”

           Cat lifts an eyebrow at him.

           “Why?”

           “Because I don’t want the people watching to hear what I’m about to say.”

           Cat is still suspicious, but she takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet anyways. Spencer puts his arms around her and the two of them begin to sway back and forth. Spencer suppresses the urge to pull away when her hand lowers and intertwines with his own. It’s rough and calloused and cold – a direct contradiction of Y/N’s – and Spencer positively loathes it.

           “You had eyes on me while I was in prison, didn’t you?”

           “Spencie, don’t ruin the moment,” Cat groans.

           “I don’t want to, but I’m on the clock. Answer my question, am I right?”            Cat places her head on Spencer’s chest, her hair smelling of some generic bar of soap, and Spencer wishes more than anything that he was smelling the familiar notes of honeysuckle and vanilla instead.

           “Yes, you’re right. I wanted to make sure things were just as uncomfortable for you as they were for me.”

           “That’s how you timed everything so perfectly. Like sending my mom and Lindsey to visit me when I thought I was at my lowest.”

           This piques Cat’s interest and she lifts her head up until her eyes meet Spencer’s.

           “Thought? You’re sure you weren’t?”

           “No, I wasn’t. Because I didn’t feel bad – I felt scared at how much I enjoyed poisoning the other prisoners. I had a hundred ways of getting myself out of that situation, and I picked the one that would cause them the most pain.”

           “Well, look at that,” Cat hums. “You might end up saving your mother’s life after all.”

           A moment of silence passes as Spencer contemplates his next move. Before he can get the words out, Cat breaks the silence.

           “They won’t get there in time. They must be on their way, right? Your team is too good to wait around, but you know me. I always have a contingency plan,” Cat murmurs, hands dipping under Reid’s suit jacket. She rubs her palms across his chest in slow circles and Spencer tries hard not to squirm. “They’re walking into a trap, and the only way out is if you give me your phone and you guess – right now.”

           Cat removes her hands from Spencer’s chest, crossing her arms and fixing him with a pointed look. Spencer reaches down and pulls the phone from his pocket, passing it to Cat who wastes no time in taking a seat at the table once more.

           Spencer’s skin tingles, half from anticipation, half from fear. They’ve come too far for him to misstep. He thinks of his mother – of how the next two minutes will determine her fate, and Spencer clenches his hands into fists at his sides.

           Here comes the moment of truth.

           “When we first sat down, you said you were going to show me what kind of man I am. And you have.”

           “Every time I dial a number, you’re getting warmer.”

           “At first, I was furious, because the secret had to be the baby inside you. How could it be anything else? But then I realized that somehow, you knew I liked hurting those men.” Cat dials another number, prompting Spencer to continue. “Now, I know it’s both things.”

           “So, which is it, Spencie? Come on, don’t fumble it now. You’re at the one-yard line.”

           “You’re not pregnant with my child. You got pregnant with Wilkins to put me in as compromised a position as possible. But it should be mine – I wish it were mine. Because you and I… we deserve each other. That is the real secret.”

           By the time Spencer finishes speaking, tears are steady falling down Cat’s cheeks. With a shaky hand she presses the call button, and Spencer watches on with bated breath as the phone rings.

           “Kill her.”

          When Cat receives no reply, she pushes out of her seat and begins to pace around the room. “Lindsey, I said kill her.”

           “You bitch,” Lindsey curses, sounding positively heartbroken in the way only a jilted loved could. “You’re pregnant?”

            “Lindsey, sweetheart, it’s complicated, okay?”

           “No, it’s not,” Lindsey whispers, and then the sound of the dial tone is all that’s left.

           Not a second later, Y/N bursts through the door; the figurative light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

           “We’re clear.”

           Spencer snatches his phone from Cat’s hand before turning to face Y/N.

           “Is my mom okay?”

           “Yeah. She’s fine.”

           “We do deserve each other, by the way,” Cat calls out, prompting Spencer to pivot and face her. She slides back into the seat and shrugs her shoulders. “You guessed right.”

           Spencer falters for a moment, but then a voice in his head is reminding him that he deserves the world. And that voice sounds a lot like Y/N.

           “You lied, by the way. You were going to kill my mother regardless.”

          “Yeah, I think you really liked hurting those men. Once you cross that line, you can’t ever go back. And you’ll never get her to love you, either. You and I are too fucked up to be loved.”

           Spencer takes two steps forward before he bends down, reaching out and clutching Cat’s forearm in a tight grip. Without breaking eye contact, he slides his watch off her wrist and back on to his own.

           “Watch me,” Spencer whispers, and without so much as a parting glance at the broken women sitting at the table, Spencer walks towards the light.

--

           The elevator ride up to the bullpen is a quiet one, not unlike the jet ride before it. I had about a million questions that I was dying to ask, but I thought it best to let Spencer stew in silence. The poor guy had been through enough in the last twenty-four hours – he didn’t need me hounding him on top of all of that. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure where to start in the first place.

           So, Spence – how was prison?

           I heard you got the shit kicked out of you. How interesting, so did I! Wanna trade war stories?

           I hate to put you on the spot like this, but was that little tidbit about you being hopelessly in love with me true? Just curious.

           As wonderful as all of those conversation starters were, I didn’t really think that now was the time to breech any of the aforementioned subjects. So, instead, Spencer and I communicated in stolen glances and shy smiles, and that more than sufficed for the time being. We had all the time in the world to talk later - there was no need to rush.

           I can practically feel Spencer shaking with anticipation when the elevator ride comes to a close, and the two of us share one last, longing glance before the doors open and Spencer steps out and into the arms of his mother.

           There’s not a dry eye in the house when Spencer and his mother reunite, and it takes Emily ushering us all away to keep us all from devolving into sniveling messes right in front of the elevator. We all scatter about the bullpen, and after a quick trip to the bathroom I meander to Emily’s office.

           “Derek Morgan – you are a sight for sore eyes,” I whistle as I walk into the room, not stopping until I’m pressed up against two-hundred pounds of rock-hard abs.

           “Ah, little bit. I sure have missed you,” Derek laughs as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

           “To what do we owe the pleasure? I’d be hard pressed to believe that you just decided to drop in at three o’clock in the morning.”

           Derek lets out a sigh and the smile drops from his face.

           “I wish I was just here to say hello, but we may have bigger problems. I got a text from Penelope saying that Reid was out of prison and that he wanted to see me. And that he was staying in an FBI safehouse where he was putting his mother up for the night.”

           I cast a glance at Emily, who shakes her head.

           “I didn’t approve of that,” she explains, and just like that, a weary feeling settles over everyone in the room.

           “I think we all know what this sounds like,” Derek says.

           “A trap.”

--

           “I know we’re all tired, but we may have a new lead on Scratch.”

           “Somebody did a bang-up job of cloning my cellphone to send Morgan a text luring him to a nonexistent safehouse. And whoever that somebody is has mad skills,” Penelope explains.

           “The kind of skills Scratch has,” Stephen mutters, earning a round of murmured agreeances.

           “Were you able to trace where the hack came from?” Luke inquires, earning an affronted glare from Penelope. She shakes her head at him before turning to Derek, who’s watching on with a shit-eating grin on his face.

           “Do you see what I have to put up with?”

           Derek chuckles and gives Luke a pointed look.

           “Alvez, you’ll always get a location with this one.” Derek reaches forward and rubs Penelope’s shoulder, and it’s impossible to miss the way Luke’s eyes zero in on it.

           “Down boy,” I whisper at him. “Green isn’t your color.”

           “Shut up.”

           I roll my eyes good-naturedly before turning my attention back to Emily.

           “Obviously, Morgan can’t come with us. He’s a civilian now.”

           “We’ll miss you out there,” JJ chimes in.

           “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it out there in the field with you guys. I think about it every day. But between my old friends and my new friends, you guys are gonna go out there, you’re gonna handle your business, you’re gonna make people feel safe, and then you’re gonna go home. And that’s all that matters.”

           “Civilian life has turned you into a sap,” I tease.

           “Is it just me, or has this one gotten mouthier since I left?”

           Penelope pats him on the arm.

           “Someone had to fill the silence.”

           After everyone has the opportunity to tell Derek their goodbyes, it’s a mad dash to get everything we need to roll out. I pull my hair into a ponytail and shuck off my blazer, only to replace it with my Kevlar. I’m in the middle of securing the last strap as I hurry down the hall when I come in harsh contact with the front of someone’s chest.

           But it’s not just someone – it’s Spencer.

           “I thought you left already?”

           Spencer lets out a strained chuckle.

           “Uh, yeah. I was on the way out when Penelope texted and said Derek was here. Mom’s sitting with Anderson while I go talk to him.”

           I nod in understanding.

           “Good ole Anderson,” I manage to say, trying hard not to cringe at my awkward choice of words.

           “Yeah,” Spencer mutters, shuffling his feet as he looks anywhere other than my face. “There’s a case, I’m assuming?” he says, gesturing to my vest.

           “We think we have a lead on Scratch, actually.”

           Now, that gets Spencer’s attention. His eyes finally settle on me, and his brows furrow.

           “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I need to go with you-” Spencer makes a move to brush past me, put I stop him with a hand on his chest.

           “Back it up, Spence. There’s absolutely no way Prentiss will sign off on that, and even if she did, I’m still saying no.”

           “And I’m supposed to listen to you?” Spencer tries to keep his face neutral, but his lips twitch as he fights back a smile.

           “Mm. What I say goes, and I say that you need to go home and not even think about work for at least a month. You certainly could use the break.”

           “A whole month, huh?”

           I nod, looking up at him with a faux serious expression.

           “I better not see you around here for at least that long, or there will be repercussions.”

           Spencer finally does smile at that, and I can practically see the way he’s mulling over his next move in his head.

           “Does… Does that prohibition extend only to the work place?”

           I tilt my head to the side.

           “I’m lost.”

           Spencer scrunches his nose up and his eyes dart across the hall before eventually settling back on me.

           “It’s just that, well, I don’t really know where this leaves us. Will I still see you outside of work, or is that all messed up now?”

           “Why would that be messed up?”

           Spencer closes his eyes and he lets out a haggard breath.

           “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

           Even though he can’t see me, I smile up at him anyways.

           “On any other day I absolutely would, but things are a little… hectic right now. How about we put a pin in this conversation until things slow down a bit?”

           Spencer slowly opens his eyes and they roam over my face, searching.

           “You’re not uncomfortable? Considering everything that, uh, she said about me? Especially the part that pertained to you?” Spencer asks, meek and unsure.

           I shake my head.

           “I think you’ll find that I am very much the opposite of uncomfortable,” I reply. We stand there for a moment longer, just basking in the fact that after three long, miserable months, we’re finally together again.

           Spencer opens his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by Emily calling my name from further down the hall.

           “Duty calls,” I chuckle, pulling away from Spencer. “Tell you mom I said hi, and I’ll be by to visit once you have time to get settled in,” I call over my shoulder.

           I make it a good ten feet down the hall before Spencer’s tugging at my hand and pulling me flush against his chest. He hesitates for a moment, and a flash of uncertainty clouds his eyes, but then he’s pushing it down and pressing his lips to mine.

           Spencer’s lips are slightly chapped, but so, so warm as they move against mine. My response is instantaneous – I don’t hesitate for a second before I’m kissing back. The kiss is slow and tentative, as gentle and tender as it is intoxicating. It’s everything that a kiss should be and it ignites a fire in me that has me grasping at Spencer’s shirt, desperate for more. The hand that isn’t cupping the side of my face presses firmly against the small of my back, urging me forward until absolutely no space is left between us.

           Every drag of his lips against mine acts as gasoline to a flame, and I can’t help but think that Ray Bradbury said it best. It is a pleasure to burn.

           I’m the first to pull away, but it isn’t because I want to. What I want is to stay just like this – entangled in Spencer Reid – until not an inch of our bodies lay unexplored by the other. But when Emily calls out my name yet again, I force myself to stop.

           “I really need to go,” I murmur regretfully, and Spencer nods.

           “Yeah, I know.”

           But that doesn’t stop him from going in for one last, delicious kiss. This time when we break away, it’s his doing. I don’t have the self restraint to pull away twice.

           “Pinky promise you’ll come back to me in one piece?” Spencer says as he lifts his pinky finger up in offering. I link mine with his, and I smile a dopey grin at him.

           “Of course, I will,” I reply. “After all, you and I are due for one hell of a conversation.”

           I shoot him a wink before I’m running down the hall and slipping into the elevator just before the doors close. My teammates all shoot me curious looks, but I pretend like I don’t see and I lean against the wall, trying and failing to slow the rapid beating of my heart.

           It’s Stephen who approaches me when we all file out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

           “Spencer Reid wouldn’t have anything to do with that love-sick look on your face, would he?”

           I attempt to school my expression, but one pointed look from Stephen has me devolving into a fit of giggles like I’m a goddamn school girl.

           “Possibly.”

           “Possibly my ass. When we get done with this case, I expect a full explanation,” Stephen chuckles as he climbs in the back of the SUV.

           “You gossip like a teenager, Walker,” I tease as I climb in after him.

           “What can I say? You kids keep me young.”

           I let out a loud laugh at that.

           “Best shrink a girl could ask for.”

-

-

-

If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.

           - Unknown

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[ampintherain]

I’m Yours:

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Chapter IV

Y/N is Kenny Ortega’s ‘niece’ after going through a rough breakup, Kenny decides to fly her over to stay with him, will her broken heart mend?

(Female Reader, NO SMUT, Romance, Friendship, THIS IS MY FIRST EVER FANFIC/IMAGINE, I hope it’s good, Kenny is lifelong family friend so reader calls him Uncle Kenny. I’m British so the writing is going to be British so like ‘mum’ not ‘mom’ yanno?)

TW- swearing. mentions of alcohol, drugs & divorce

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Y/N

“Doll, you ready to go?” Kenny asked as he shrugged on his coat, we had been at Tori’s for a good three hours and I could see Kenny was getting tired and we did have a really long day tomorrow, I nodded at my uncle happily before bidding farewell to my new found friends. I found it quite strange as to how quickly they had befriended me and made me feel more than welcome- Charlie especially, I mean throughout the day he asked me if I was alright and he encouraged me to share my ideas with Uncle Kenny, it really was strange.

“See you tomorrow Y/n” Owen chirped, pulling me in for a quick hug, I was soon passed round through the group of friends each of them giving me a tight hug which I gladly reciprocated, I waved everyone a final goodbye before Kenny and I left Tori’s apartment and made our way back to the car.

As Uncle Kenny drove through the streets of Vancouver, I paid most attention to the lights displayed throughout, I watched as birds flew through the sky and listened to the soft sound of the radio, “you okay Y/n?” Uncle Kenny questioned,

“Hm?” I said, as the questioned tore me out of my unknown daydream, I turned to face my uncle Kenny and before he could repeat himself, my brain managed to process what he originally asked “oh oh yeah, I’m fine Uncle Kenny, just sight seeing” I laughed quietly,

“Okay, just making sure, I’m worried about you...” Kenny admitted, I had a feeling that he was but he just didn’t want to draw attention to me and my situation, I have always been very good at hiding my emotions it came from years and years of being told that my emotions and the way I felt weren’t ‘necessary’ and that I shouldn’t feel the way I did- in the end, I decided to no longer tell anyone my problems but deal with them myself, battling through the pain as a lone warrior, I didn’t even tell Kenny what was going on, I built up layers of walls around me to protect myself and make it seem like I was this strong, capable woman. “You’re only 19, Y/n, I know you’re strong but... I just want you to know that I am here should you ever need me” I nodded in response, worried that if I did speak, my voice would give way and I would be revealed as this weak character, I’ve already cried once today and I’m not planning on crying anymore, not in front of Kenny at least.

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Kenny locked the door behind me as we both entered the apartment, “do you want a drink or anything Uncle Kenny?” I questioned as I made my way into the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking out the carton of orange juice,

“No you’re alright Star, I’m just going to head to bed, I’ll wake you up at 7 alright?” He assured me, I nodded as I sipped at my juice, I looked at the digital clock placed on the side- 12:00am, luckily I had sorted through all of my clothes before going to set and again before going to Tori’s because, quite honestly, I hadn’t the energy to do much at this point, I watched as my uncle wandered into his room, closing the door behind him. I let out a deep breath, the thoughts of a few nights ago coming back into my memory, replaying itself there, why wasn’t I good enough? I did absolutely everything I could for him... I loved him with everything I had... why wasn’t I good enough?

I kept asking myself, it was truly lost on me, I didn’t see myself as this perfect girl, this perfect girlfriend but I knew what I did for him. I was there for him when his dad spiralled, turning to alcoholism and drug abuse, I was there whenever he called, whenever he showed up randomly at my house at 4 in the morning crying and looking for a cuddle, I made sure to visit him mum every Tuesday evening for dinner because Zac wanted to move out once his parents split, deciding to live with his grandparents instead. We were even thinking about moving in together... well him moving in with me as I had already had my own place at 18. That boy was my entire world for 3 years and the fact that he could throw it all away so easily, really hurt me, and I don’t think it was anything that I could understand ever.

The thought alone caused my heart to feel crushed, it felt like Zac had a hold of my heart and whenever I thought about it, he just squeezed my heart as hard as he possibly could, it felt like a gut wrenching type of pain, I wiped away the tears that I didn’t even realise were spilling quickly out of my eyes. I cleared my throat and drank the rest of my juice before making my way to bed, I changed into my grey cable knit sweater and my plaid shorts and clambered into the large double bed, snuggling into the comfort that the bed brought me before I let sleep take over me.

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“Rise and shine” Kenny said quietly into my bedroom, I groaned as I stretched in bed, “morning sleepyhead” he chuckled,

“Morning” I mumbled, scratching the back of my head, Kenny told me that we’d be leaving in 20 minutes, “okay, I’ll see you in 20” I smiled, sliding out of bed and heading into my closet, I grabbed my white tennis skirt, white shirt and dark blue sweater, I paired the outfit with white tennis socks and my white and blue Nike Jordan’s that Uncle Kenny bought me for Christmas. I placed my clothes on my bed and went for a quick shower, this time I dried my hair before chucking it up into a high ponytail, I brushed my teeth and did some light makeup again before changing and grabbing my phone off the side,

“Let’s go” I stated as I made my way over to Kenny,

“You look amazing” he smiled genuinely at me, I thanked him and we made our way back to the set of his new show.

“So... how did you sleep?” Kenny asked me,

“Oh really well thank you, that bed was huge, you could fit like five of me in there” I joked, just as my phone chimed, I looked down at the lit screen to see messages from the one person I didn’t want to hear from.

Zac- Hey, where are you? I came to your place to see you and you weren’t there...

I rolled my eyes and groaned internally before locking my phone and sinking into my seat, “what’s on your mind?” Uncle Kenny asked immediately, I swear it’s like this man lives in my brain. I turned my phone on vibrate just as another text came through,

“It’s nothing Uncle Kenny” I sighed, the man driving next to me simply hummed in response, he definitely didn’t believe me but I knew he wasn’t going to push for answers- he never did, he would always let me come to him if I needed and that was one of the things I loved most about him. I could feel my phone constantly vibrating in my hand whilst Kenny was driving, so I turned it on do not disturb just to try and escape it.

“Alright kiddo, we’ve arrived” Kenny said as he swiftly parked up, I went to unbuckle myself but Kenny stopped me, “you don’t have to tell me right now, but I am here, you know I won’t judge you like your parents” he explained, I sighed and leant over to rest my head on his arm,

“I know Uncle Kenny... it’s Zac, he texted me... I’m ignoring him though” I replied, he sighed and looked down at me, placing a kiss to the top of my head,

“You’re going to have to” Kenny started before I cut him off mid sentence,

“Message him at some point, I know I know” I sat back upright and unbuckled the seat before getting out the car, “come on” I sighed, putting back on my brave face before heading into the lot with Uncle Kenny in tow.

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Charlie

“Y/n!” I heard Sav yell from across the lot, I turned to see Y/n walking towards us, her arms linked with Kenny’s as he was talking and joking with her, I watched as she let out a quick laugh before shaking her head, probably at some corny joke that Kenny told. “We’re matching!” Sav exclaimed as Y/n got closer,

“So we are!” Y/n giggled, “but don’t you have to be in your Carrie costume?” She questioned, pointing at the costume trailer just a way behind us,

“We are rehearsing Wow today in costume” Kenny announced, this prompted Sav to scrunch her face and turn on her heels, grabbing Tori by her upper arm as they both ran to the costume trailer, “those girls” Kenny laughed, shaking his head, “I’m going to get some breakfast, do you want anything Y/n?” The girl shook her head, “you have to eat Star, I’ll get you a croissant okay?”

“If I have to eat, can you get me some blueberry pancakes?” Y/n questioned innocently, smiling up at her ‘uncle.’ Kenny simply nodded and walked over to catering to grab him and Y/n some breakfast. “Hey” Y/n said as she took a step closer to me, I looked down at her and smiled,

“Hey” I mirrored, “sleep well last night?” I asked, the girl nodded and started to walk down the lot, I naturally started to follow her, not wanting the conversation to end,

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever slept in a bed that big before” she giggled, causing my heart to skip a beat slightly, “how about you? Did you sleep well?” She questioned, looking up at me with her beautiful y/e/c eyes.

“Oh yeah, Owen and I left Tori’s a little while after you and Ken left, we grabbed some food and then just crashed as soon as we got home” I said simply, just as I mentioned Owen I saw him come out of his trailer dressed as Alex,

“You, Charles. Have to be in costume” he stated, pointing at me, I rolled my eyes before he shoo’d me away, I nodded slightly at Y/n as a way to say goodbye and she saluted me slightly which caused me to laugh before jogging up to costume.

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Y/N

“Why the long face?” Owen asked me as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, “wassup Buttercup?” I bit the inside of my cheek and looked up at the blonde boy,

“It’s my ex” I stated plainly, “he messaged me this morning and I just...” I trailed off, not really knowing what to say, was I ignoring Zac because I hated him, or was I ignoring him because I was worried that if I did text him back, I would fall for him all over again? You can’t get over someone that quickly, no matter how much they hurt you... right?

“Don’t know what to say to him?” Owen answered for me, “what did he say?” He asked, I daren’t look at my phone again because I knew that he had probably texted more so I tried to remember what I saw at quick glance.

“It was something about why I wasn’t home and where I was” I remembered, sitting down on the small couch in the resting tent, my back against the arm rest and my legs tucked up to my chest, Owen sat down, facing me and mirroring my position, “I just don’t see why I have to tell him that anymore... he’s my ex y’know?” I vented, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

“Hey, you shouldn’t let him get to you like that, it’s not cool... look, I’m pretty sure we have a day off tomorrow, why don���t you come over to mine and Charlie’s place and we can watch movies and pig out?” Owen offered, I lifted my head back up and nodded, it didn’t sound like the worst idea, in fact, it sounded like the best thing for me, I mean karaoke last night helped me a lot so maybe just a chilled day would help too?

“Yeah that sounds amazing actually” I smiled.

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“Okay you guys, Sav, Sacha, Tori, Mads and Jay you guys can all go home, thank you so much for your excellence today, you’re all amazing!” Uncle Kenny beamed with pride at his cast that he was dismissing for the day, we had just filmed 3 more scenes for the show and the cast had rehearsals for as many dances they could fit in today, the only thing left on the agenda was the hot dog scene, “now, I will see everyone at the next location? Y/n, you ready?” Kenny asked, I nodded as I felt a shiver run up my spine causing my body to visibly shake,

“Hey” I heard Charlie whisper, “you okay?” He questioned, staying within earshot of me,

“Yeah I’m good, just cold, I forgot a jacket and it was warm today... I kinda forgot how long today was” I laughed, slightly embarrassed about my sieve of a brain, although the presence of Charlie stood behind me seemed to keep me fairly warm, that is, until I felt him leave. I turned to see Owen looking behind him as Charlie darted off, “I’ll be one second” Charlie yelled loud enough for everyone to hear and wait for him.

“Where’s he going?” Jeremy asked, pointing behind him towards where Charlie had just disappeared to,

“I have... no idea” Owen sighed, shrugging his shoulders, “Y/n/n, do you know?” I shook my head,

“He just ran off, maybe he forgot something” I stated, just as Charlie came running back, handing me a brown corduroy jacket with a wool collar,

“Here, it has pockets too so you won’t have to keep holding your phone” he said, only slightly out of breath.

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Charlie

Y/n gently took the jacket from me, “oh... thanks” she said as a red tint reached her cheeks, she shrugged the jacket on and I couldn’t help but smile at how it looked on her, on me, it fit perfectly but on Y/n, it nearly swamped her, the sleeves hung so low only her fingertips could be seen and the length of the jacket went just above where her skirt ended. She looked adorable.

“Yeah.. yeah anytime” I replied, Y/n placed her phone in her pocket and started to walk towards Kenny,

“Hey, I’ve gotta talk to my Uncle Kenny about some things for the hot dog scene, I had some ideas but I’ll see you on location okay?” She said, not just to me, but to Owen and Jeremy as well, all three of us nodded and joined together so we could all walk out of the lot,

“You like her...” Jeremy stated, Owen nudged him slightly and rolled his eyes,

“I made that observation last night!” He said, “but yeah, you totally like her... it’s obvious”

“I just gave her my jacket, she said she was cold, I would’ve done the same for anybody, like Mads” I defended, “she did look really cute in it though” I admitted, Owen agreed with me which caused me to look at him sceptically,

“Before you get jealous and ask me, no I don’t like her, she’s just a friend” he answered before I even had a chance to ask the question, “oh by the way, she was talking to me about her ex today, something about how he messaged her and she doesn’t know what to say to him, she seemed really down so I invited her to come over tomorrow” Owen explained,

“Oh really? Okay cool” was all I could say, Jeremy soon decided to change the subject to running lines as he could see that I was becoming nervous at the fact that Y/n was coming over, I had no idea why the thought of it had my heart racing and my mind scattered but it did, there was something about Y/n that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but whatever it was drove me crazy about her.

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Y/N

We had just finished filming the final scene of the day- the hot dog scene and it was the longest scene ever, the amount of re-runs and developments on the scene was enough to drive anybody insane, I groaned slightly as I turned and sat on the seat that one of the crew members brought with them just as Kenny was wrapping the scene up. “Y/n, I’ve just got to do some paperwork and I’ll be right with you okay? I’m sure the boys will keep you company once they change” Kenny announced, to which I simply nodded, not having the energy to say anything or do anything else, I rubbed my eye as I pulled my phone out of Charlie’s jacket pocket, I looked down at the screen and saw the notification, I had 36 unread messages from Zac:

>Zac- hello? Y/n! Where are you?

>Zac- I’m worried about you...

>Zac- Y/n! Would you please just answer me...

>Zac- I went to the coffee shop, you weren’t there either, where have you run off to?

>Zac- look Y/n, I’m really sorry about what I did to you

>Zac- WTF! WHERE ARE YOU?!?

>Zac- you can’t possibly be giving me the silent treatment? Seriously.

>Zac- I didn’t realise you were so childish.

>Zac- I’m glad I cheated on you, you’re worthless

>Zac- wait no, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that I’m just worried about you.

The list went on and on, a mixture of emotions, I kept scrolling through the text screen until I saw the most recent text, delivered 1 minute ago,

>Zac- call me. Please.

I rolled my eyes, I couldn’t call him, I shouldn’t call him right? But alas, like muscle memory, I clicked on the call icon and there was his voice, “Y/n! Hey... how’re you?” All I did was sigh in response, I watched as the boys came out of the venue and into sight, they all waved at me before noticing I was on the phone, Owen and Jeremy dispersed whereas Charlie stayed, walking slowly towards me with a half-smile on his face, clearly worried about whether or not I wanted him to come closer.

“What do you want?” I said bluntly, “I’m not in the mood to hear your pathetic apologies Zac, you’re messages were ridiculous, you went from being apologetic to calling me worthless and saying that you were happy that you cheated on me!”

“Listen Y/n... I can’t explain” Zac began but I was in no mood to hear it,

“No you listen Zac, you don’t get to be sad, you don’t get to cry. You are the one who cheated remember? Or have you suddenly developed amnesia? You went behind my back and had this whole other relationship for 13 months... and on top of that, it was with Quinn! My best friend and you think I’m going to sit here and listen to your silly little apologies, no, you have another thing coming. We were together for 3 years and for a year of that you were with someone else, I was nothing but loyal to you, I was nothing but kind to you, I loved you so much and I thought that you would never hurt me, but I was wrong, you’re just a piece of shit Zac, you and Quinn deserve each other, you’re both snakes, you’re both pathetic and you both betrayed me. I dont want to hear from you again? Do I make myself clear?” I ranted down the phone, I never raised my voice, I kept calm, I wouldn’t let him know that he made me so angry that I wanted to scream and throw my phone into the road, no. I wouldn’t let him have that power over me.

“But Y/n- we’ve been through so much... Quinn doesn’t know me like you do... she’s not there for me like you do” Zac grovelled, I scoffed in response,

“Well isn’t that just a crying shame? You should’ve thought about that before you decided to go behind my back and fuck her, you should’ve thought about it before you decided to be unfaithful. Hey, I’ll make this easy for you, I’ll just block you on everything that way you have no way of contacting me. Goodbye Zac” I said as I abruptly hung up, giving Zac no chance to talk, I blocked his number and started to go through my social media, blocking him on everything that I had.

“Uh... you okay?” I heard a worried voice speak, I looked up to see those eyes that could only belong to Charlie, he tilted his head and looked at me with concern riddled all over his face, I placed my phone on my lap and rubbed my temples to try and reduce to incoming headache.

“Yeah... that was my ex” I stated the absolute obvious, unsure of what else to say, Charlie nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets before taking the seat next to me, he didn’t ask me to go on and explain but I felt like I could talk to him and so I did “you probably heard but he cheated on me, with my best friend”

“Yeah... yeah I did hear, look, Y/n, I know it probably won’t mean much but he really doesn’t deserve you and he isn’t worth your tears” he said calmly, placing his thumb on my cheek and gently brushed away the tears that I had no idea were slowly falling from my eyes, “by the sounds of it, he sounds like a dick and you were way too good for him” I laughed in response, “I’m being serious, Y/n, you’re gorgeous and kind and funny and insanely talented! I know it’s hard but you shouldn’t let a guy like that get to you...”

“Yeah I know... but he and I were together for so long, it just makes me feel like everything was a lie y’know? And like I can’t truly be loved by anyone” I admitted, hearing this Charlie stood up in front of me and held his hands out, “what...?” I questioned, he beckoned me to stand up before pulling me in for a hug,

“You? You can’t truly be loved? Y/n you’re one of the most lovable people I’ve ever met, everyone loves you here... I know that’s not the type of love you meant but trust me on this okay? You can very easily be loved” I pulled out of the hug slightly and Charlie lightly placed his hands on my face, looking deep into my eyes, he smiled slightly to himself causing me to become shy and look down, Charlie used his index finger to lift my head back up by my chin ever so gently, “who wouldn’t want to fall in love with you?”

💜thank you for reading💜

♡︎𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 : @thesweetestsinner , @ifilwtmfc , @ashleyleblancx , @chloepart03 , @obxflowr , @lukeys-giggle ♡︎

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