#Spencer Funke

[annasunna]

Семья Функе 20 лет спустя. Близнецы Спенсер и Ирен выпускаются из университета и возвращаются в родительский дом.

Спенсер учился посредственно, уделяя больше времени свиданиям и вечеринкам. За время учебы он так и не выбрал себе спутницу, но развил максимальный интерес к науке, показывая девушкам ночное небо и подбирая им витиеватые научные комплименты)

Несмотря на стремление к увлечениям, Спенсер хочет стать шеф-поваром и сразу после выпуска мечтает выйти на работу. Конечно, в интернете не было подходящих вакансий. отец подсказал обратиться в Ратушу.

Специалист Центра занятости населения не выразил симпатии к молодому соискателю, однако работу найти помог.

Спенсер начинает трудовой путь с должности официанта (и это после колледжа по специальности! надо было лучше учиться))

[gleesongtournament]

Glee Song Tournament Round 1

[xo-zizi]

Ok but being serious now. I didn’t expect to be defending Spencer in the way that I’m about to but the way everybody just shows up at his place, all up in his face to help them save something yet again is annoying. Like oh yeah sorry for your loss we love Coach Baker but what you doing about GAU? Hello??? Is that not a tad insensitive?

[rhythmislifeandlifeisrhythm]

[spilladabalia]

Keith Emerson ''I'm A Man''

[winwoodcompletist]

A Super FUNKY “FEELIN’ ALRIGHT”…

[radiophd]

jim spencer -- take her by the hand

[doompatus]

TRACY SPENCER deux LP

[gghostwriter]

Time Gave No Compass, Were There Clues?

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times fate brings you to cross paths with a certain handsome stranger and the one time he purposely crosses with yours Trope:It’s fluff in a meet cute type of way w.c: 5.6k+ a/n: this is connected to ‘One Single Thread of Gold’! This took forever to make simply because I had this fear that the second part wouldn’t come out as great as the first and I’ve been in a writing funk lately—not quite sure if my writing worsened or got better during this period but at this point, maybe I shouldn’t care that much anymore? That’s a lie so please comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The first encounter—a knight in a vintage blue vehicle

The drumming noise of the rain against the vinyl awning of the Japanese restaurant became the perfect soundtrack for watching countless strangers scurry to the nearest shelter.

It was the night that you have dubbed your unluckiest as a woman in Washington—up until he came along.

According to the morning weather forecast, there was little to no chance of rain. A radiant reprieve from the downpour of light rainfall the city had been experiencing three days in a row. A believer of facts you were, excitedly slipped on your new pair of heels and joined the outside world, sun shining up above the sky without a single speck of dark cloud lingering in its wake.

The work day was nothing special—jumping on video calls with your boss, answering international emails from the magazine’s sister branches abroad, and reviewing articles set to be published for next month’s print.

Nothing unusual. No sign that the day would roller coaster down and up again, before ending right before a drop, leaving you white knuckled with anticipation.

As you were exiting the diner with your freshly cooked to-go in one hand, the weather decided to beat the statistics presented by the news forecast. Rain poured down hard, effectively stranding you on the covered sidewalk.

“Oh,” you mumbled under your breath, forced to settle down on the empty outdoor seating. The gust of cold wind that caressed your cheeks to turn pink reminded you of comforting childhood memories—warm cocoa, blanket forts, and cuddles with your precious teddy bear. 

It brought a smile on your face, recalling the time when life was still simple.

Working as a writer for an established fashion magazine had its own ups and downs. You felt lucky enough to be given the opportunity to work with living and breathing artists, all the while having the flexibility to live anywhere in the country.

Your boss initially found it odd when you mentioned temporarily moving back to Washington. It wasn’t a state well-established in the industry after all. It was a city filled with starched pressed suits, neutral ties, and newly shined loafers—the epicenter for politics and everything serious. 

The ridiculous misconception about fashion and its frivolousness caused your nose to scrunch. It was the same idea that pushed newly graduate you to move to New York and burn the midnight oil to be where you were now, highly respected in the circle.

She understood your truth—the need for a change of scenery before jumping back in to the game with fresh new eyes. Jokingly, she wagered you’d only last two months away from the Big Apple before coming back. It had been six months since then and you were starting to believe the urge for the city that never sleeps will never cross your mind again.

As you mused about the trajectory of your career, the clouds started to let up, enough that you took the chance to open your compact umbrella and possibly ruin your heels to get to the nearest subway entrance just 10 minutes away.

A mistake that you realized halfway as a sudden blast of strong wind flipped your umbrella inside out, rending you vulnerable to the hasty returning rain.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as water started to stain your light purple satin heels, turning them near black.

Definitely ruined.

The flickering light of the entrance and the still warm spot underneath the restaurant pulled you in two different directions. Should you just brave the weather already starting to look like a drowned animal or should you go back with your tail tucked between your legs?

As you debated your next move, being poorly protected by your broken umbrella and soaked by the tormenting weather no less, a blue vintage car came to a stop beside you and honked it’s horn.

“Um—do you need help? A ride, maybe?” a voice shouted out of the rolled down passenger window, barely heard against the torrential downpour.

A good Samaritan was rare this day and age. So uncommon that it made you immediately wary. You looked around, making sure it was you the stranger was addressing before uttering a reply.

“Depends on who’s asking,” your free hand clutching the ends of your spoiled umbrella. “Are you a serial killer by any chance?” 

He paused, caught off guard with your question, and chuckled. “What? No, no. Not at all, just a concerned citizen.”

You bit your lip, wavering between accepting his offer at the risk of your life, before reaching to open the passenger door. “Fair enough.”

The stranger promptly layered a black windbreaker on the tan leather seats. “Sorry, it’s just—did you know that wet leather can lead to discoloration?”

Your eyebrows raised, shuffling to get comfortable on the seat—mindful of your back not touching, before giving him a nod. “Yes, actually I did but it’s great to see someone else know about it too.”

He pressed his lips together into a tight smile and reached forward on the console, tinkering with the unlabeled knobs, turning up the heat. 

Your eyes tracked his every movement, curious as to any indication to who this mysterious gentleman was.

His nails were light pink in color, clean, and cut short—possibly for a desk office job. His fingers were long and bony, model length you’d surmise—a little calloused on one side of his middle finger possibly from holding a pen too tight. The back of his hand veined and wide in size, big enough to dwarf your dainty slim hands in comparison.

Your cheeks heated up, feeling guilty for gawking at a man’s hands before spilling your address without so much of a thought for your safety.

The stranger blanched, clearly caught off guard with your trusting nature. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to go with strangers willingly? Or provide vital information about yourself for that matter?”

You appraised his profile as his eyes trained on the road. 

Hazel colored hair that curled around his face. Sunken eyes framed by long, dark lashes that any woman could envy. A tall and straight nose bridge. Maroon pillowy lips and a sharp jawline perfectly matched with a five-o’clock shadow.

He was handsome.

Pretty even.

The type you’d see a casting agent and photographer fawn over.

Shoulders seemingly angular and wide, stretching his black knitted cardigan well. It’s arms pushed up to showcase his forearms lithe in form with muscles flexing underneath as he twists the wheel to take a right. His seat pushed the farthest it could go, highlighting how tall he could be.

Your handsome gentleman could rival male models that graced your magazine’s editorial pages.

“Well, you don’t look like a serial killer and I think I’d take my chances with you than out there—” a flash of lightning trailed on the darkened sky followed by a loud clap of thunder. “—yeah, I stand with my choice.”

His laughter mid-pitched, filled the confined space. “And how does a serial killer look like?”

“Sinister and not trustworthy. You look neither, by the way,” you shrugged.

“Actually, there’s a minor percentage of killers that don’t fit in your description. Ted Bundy is an example, he used his good looks to lure in unsuspecting women.”

You hummed in agreement. “You’re right and you could definitely use your looks too but I still doubt you’re one. Let’s call it intuition and if I had to guess, you work at a desk job. Finance or Human Resources, maybe?”

“Are you saying I look—” he cleared his throat, a wrinkle appearing between his well shaped brows. “—handsome?”

“Well, at the risk of sounding like I’m flirting with you—which I’m not, well, maybe. But yes, I think you’re good looking. Handsome.” 

The pink flush that slowly darkened to a cherry red started its descent to his exposed neck, making him look more endearing. His reaction made it quite obvious he was never one to receive such flattery about his appearance which made you question the eyes of the women around him.

He was utterly distinguished and dressed in this comforting nerdy fashion that added to the appeal.

“I take it you’re not used to compliments.”

The long lashes that framed his molten chocolate eyes fluttered, as if highlighting is naivety in dealing with the opposite sex.

It sent butterflies free in your stomach.

“Yeah, but thank you. And I’m really not a serial killer—I wouldn’t be using a memorable vehicle in picking up a victim in a crowded street with city cameras around. Not that, that information helps me state my case. In fact, it’s making it worse—” he rambled out, easing the car into a stop beside your apartment complex. “What I meant was, I-I think you’re good looking too, beautiful.”

You laughed at the absurdity of where your night has ended up.

The air trapped between two bodies crackled with an energy you couldn’t name. It was humming below the surface, making you feel hyper aware of the man who drove you home.

It was igniting.

Possibly the start of something.

In contrast, the outside was quiet and still. The rain had finally come and gone, leaving behind its comforting atmosphere.

The lamp posts reflecting off the puddles of water, tinting the streets a warm, honey gold color. Leaves dancing, like string puppets controlled by the forces of nature. The wind whispering and giggling—to what, you didn’t know but you felt it wasn’t important to dissect. No more important than the stranger who’s scent, aged books and cedar wood, intermingled with yours, vanilla and a hint of amber.

“Thank you for the ride,” quickly exiting the vehicle. Suddenly you felt shy as the last few minutes replayed in your head—how trusting you were to take his offer and how naive it was of you to let your guard down.

The sound of a subsequent car door opening echoed on the empty street. “You’re welcome and you’re wrong, by the way.”

“Wrong about what?” You twisted to look back.

The street lights hitting his face, casting a mysterious shadow on his handsome features.

“About me working in finance or human resources.”

Huh. 

Your steps faltered to a stop.

That was a first—people around you always did say you read people best.

He was an exception it seemed.

An anomaly.

A mystery you wouldn’t mind taking a second try in solving.

“Better luck next time then. I hope to see you around,” you waved as you opened the heavy metal gate behind you.

His hand mimicked your goodbye before promptly reaching down to open his car door, effectively disappearing from your gaze as you pushed the main door open to the lobby.

As you watched the remaining water droplets slide down your coat, waiting for the rickety elevator to descend, an all important question popped in your mind that you never uttered into the world.

His name.

You forgot to ask for his name.

Hurriedly running back to the entrance, your stained heels clacking on the stoned pathway, you opened the gate just to spy the gentleman’s memorable light blue vehicle rev forward to blend into the chilly city night. 

Damn.

**

The second—a shared cup of Joe between two no longer strangers

The sun peeking underneath the cotton candy white clouds did little to fight off the inevitable Autumn air. Weeks of sunny days from the past storm is nearing its end causing the city occupants to flood the streets and parks for their last soak of Summer. 

Weeks have gone since your enthralling encounter with the handsome stranger and his vintage blue car. You’ve spent days replaying the memory in hopes of finding any more clues on who he was or even how to run into him again. Nights lamenting over the missed opportunity and the bitter what-if that came with it. The thought, now hazy from time passed, seemed to be colored in this golden hue you couldn’t quite describe.

A sigh escaped from between your pale pink lips. 

The moment was captivating.

He was beguiling.

But until you run into him again, his very being in your mind lived rent free.

Hand adjusting the pale pink scarf wrapped around your neck, you stepped into the warm quaint bakery down by the office. The aroma of freshly baked bread and roasting coffee beans enveloped the otherwise packed store. It was still early on the day and otherwise sleep deprived workers were queuing up for their daily fix.

This had been your spot since renting a small office space to commute to. Given your need to separate home from work, you’ve opted to find a studio you could call your temporary ‘work room’. It added extra expense, you’d agree but the comfort of being in a sea of strangers going to and from added a sense of productivity you’d never quite get if you created a makeshift office in your one bedroom apartment downtown.

You squeezed your way towards the front to view the pastry selection when you spotted him.

The gentleman in question at the counter, clearly holding up the line. 

He flashed Sarah, your usual fixer as you joked, a tight smile filled with apologies and embarrassment. 

Destiny seemed to have heard your calls and to that you were grateful.

Not wanting to let this second chance encounter go to waste, you excused yourself to the register and deftly slid your card on the white granite counter.

“Hey Sarah, do you mind adding my order with his? And a one of your buttery croissants would be much appreciated.”

Her eyebrows raised, clearly wondering the reason behind your surprising actions. Eyes flickered to the stranger beside you muttering his light disagreeing reaction before nodding towards you, as if agreeing with what she saw. “One long black and a flat white coming right up.”

“Hey stranger, fancy seeing you here,” you cocked your head to the side, loose tendrils escaping the confines of your loose bun.

The same blush that haunted you graced his face. “Hey—hi, it’s you! It’s nice to see you again,” his fingers proceeded to fiddle with his leather worn wallet. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. Pay for my coffee, I mean.”

“It’s no problem at all, just think of it as my payment for the ride the other day and also a thank you for, you know, not turning out to be a killer, like you kept bringing up.”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling close. “Well, I just wanted to instill some extra caution in you. It’s good to think well of people in general but it doesn’t hurt to be wary of them either. Especially the statistics of you—a young woman being targeted is quite high no matter how safe Washington seems to be.”

“I did get an earful from my friend about the reckless act I did. So, safe to say I’ve learned my lesson—” you paused, flashing Sarah a smile as your hands wrapped around the steaming cup of coffee and the bag containing the pastry. “But between you and me, I think she was more miffed about something I didn’t do.”

He mimicked your movements and proceeded to guide you to the nearest available standing table, his free hand hovering near the small of your back. 

“And what was it?”

“Not getting your name.”

His free hand wrapped around the strap of his satchel, pulling it towards the front of his body as if it was a shield that could hide away the blush that slowly crept down his neck.

“I, yeah—Spencer. Spencer Reid.” 

You introduced yourself with the same enthusiasm, finally at ease for knowing who he was.

“Well then, Spencer Reid, was I really wrong or was that just a lie to throw my deductive skills off course?” your hands pushing the packets of sugar towards his steaming open cup.

He thank you silently, counting at least 8 packets of sugar before returning the remaining ones in the jar. “What do you mean?”

“You not working in finance.”

“Well statistically speaking, more than 43% of the offices located here don’t belong in the finance section,” he grinned. 

With his eyes twinkling, he further continued. “21% of those are actually the government sector while the remaining are a mixture of publishing, business, and IT.”

“You sprouting off statistics doesn’t really sway me from my guess, you do know that?” You hummed, watching him dump and stir all the sugar into his dark cup of Joe. The idea of how sweet it would be sent a slight shiver down your spine. “If not finance then hmm—what about teaching?”

Appraising his get up for the day—a purple button down layered with a seemingly fraying cardigan and a black overcoat. He reminded of you of those quirky university professors that students would have no problem having a crush on. 

“You look like a young college professor with a couple degrees under your belt. Maybe literature? Or math?”

An airy laughter emitted between his lips. “Why is it always returning back to math?”

“I truly don’t know—” you shrugged. “You look smart and academic so that’s my best guess.”

“There’s actually a statistic on how many academically gifted people end up in the field of science rather than in math but I don’t know if you’d like to hear it.”

You leaned forward. “I actually do but that would cement my idea of you in maths.”

A ring from his pocket interrupted his reply. Spencer clambered to answer the call even before its’ third ring. 

“Yeah. Okay, got it. 5 minutes.” 

Any humor or lightheartedness the conversation brought had been erased from his face. It must have been work and the gravity of his responsibility must be heavy—definitely not finance and maybe not a professor then.

“I have to go—” Spencer tightly smiled, hands pulling the satchel and drink closer to his body. “It was really nice seeing you again.” 

You nodded, wordlessly walking out of the shop with him. As he started to step away from your presence, he turned back one last time to further throw you off course.

“You were right about one thing.”

Brows furrowing together, you shout back. “Which one?”

Spencer just smiled and shrugged his shoulders before turning forward, picking up his pace and leaving you further baffled about his mystery.

**

The third—a run- in during an otherwise idle day

The white noise the train against its tracks threatened to lull you into a daze. Its compartment surprisingly sparse with occupants during this otherwise tranquil Saturday. Everyone seemed to be at nearby parks, watching the leaves slowly turn this red-orange hue.

Your companion in hand—a book with its spine cracked and front cover folded backwards, sat idly on your denim lap. It was a tattered and worn copy of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. When you were in your teens, it had been the gateway to your love of classic literature and it had been your favorite ever since.

The bench you were seated on shifted and with it, medium brown brogues registered in your periphery.

Inwardly, you scoffed at the stranger invading your space when there were a multitude of empty seats available in your section. Briefly you wondered if this was going to be another day of being picked up by men who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’ which inevitably would ruin your day. 

As you were debating on nicely excusing yourself away, the man cleared his throat.

“Hey—hi,” he sheepishly greeted in this voice that had been replaying in your head since that rainy weekday night. 

You blinked away the surprise—the bafflement that fate had seemed to cross your path with his again and again and again. It always happened when you least expected it. After all, you spent numerous days craning your neck for even a small glimpse of Spencer Reid to no avail. Your eyes would subconsciously sweep the streets for a view of any suede coat matched with a purple pattern scarf. It had been your own version of Where’s Waldo—a past time that your friend joined as you forbade her (and by extension, yourself) from looking him up online. 

You wanted to keep the mystery and it seemed fate was rewarding you today.

“Hi-hey Spencer. This is a surprise,” your cheeks stretching wide from the grin you gave him. 

His fingers brushed a nonexistent stray of hair behind his ears. “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it was you. The odds of ever seeing you again—or anyone I’d know on the train is low, with how many people Virginia has.”

“Isn’t it fascinating?” your hands closing the book that no longer held your attention. “How we seemed to just run into each other? Funny how that works.”

“I mean, you could say that—not that I believe in destiny or fate with how abstract and little scientific studies it has. Maybe we just run in the same small schedule or circle.”

Your eyebrow raised, appraising his look. 

His hair looked unruly—with one side more flattened the the other, possibly slept on. His clothes, although free from any stains that would indicate it as yesterday’s, had crease marks that were reminiscent of its folding. They were clean but also not pressed—came from the satchel then. The very same bag laying on his lap, no doubt filled with dirty laundry and other necessities.

“I don’t think so,” you pondered on. “Are you just on your way back home from work, by any chance?”

“How’d you know that?” His voice cracking at the end.

You shrugged. “I pick up on things, small details and all that.”

“That’s really good. Must come in handy with your work as a journalist.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised. “How’d you know that? How’d—what gave it away?”

“It was an educated guess which—” he flashed you a grin. “—you just confirmed now.”

“Touche. Although that does seem unfair,” you pouted. “You know my occupation but I can’t even get yours right.”

He tilted his head to the right, eyes twinkling with life that keeps you pulled in. “You’re welcome to guess. In fact, I could give you a clue if you wanted—” he paused waiting for your agreement which you readily gave. “—alright you were right about one thing the last time: the one about me having multiple degrees.”

“You look young so I’m guessing a genius?”

“Well, my co-workers do like to tease me as one and it is true so yeah. I am a genius.”

The way his eyes shifted showed how bashful he was in admitting out loud he was one. You briefly wondered if there was ever a time where he felt embarrassed about it—probably in high school, you’d surmise. Teenagers, after all, had the tendency to ostracize anyone who doesn’t fit the rigid status quo they’ve collectively agreed upon.

“That’s amazing!” You gushed. “And it does narrow it quite down, actually. Do you happen to work for the government? I mean, I’m sure they try to collect the best minds our country has to offer, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do work for the government. And you’re right, they do tend to employ gifted adults as a way to also surveillance them—to make sure they don’t turn into anti-statists or anarchists.”

You pondered over every detail he presented. Freshly manicured nails tapping on your leg before finally guessing. “Okay so, I was first going to say NASA because—” you shrugged. “—it’s space but then that would be too stereotypical of me to assume. Plus, you’ve thrown off just about any deductions I’ve made during our first two meetings—”

Spencer nodded. He seemed proud to listen to you ramble your way through. 

“—I was also going to guess administrative work but it’s a weekend and you’re just on your way home so that’s a no—”

A small spread on his face.

A good sign that you were in the right direction.

“—it can’t be the judiciary too, right? I always imagined them to be wearing neutral suits and have this stoic air around them—”

He chuckled.

“—so I’m guessing law enforcement? Can’t be a regular cop, they have uniforms. So, for the FBI? Or am I just reaching?”

Spencer vigorously nodded his head, the wavy tendrils tucked behind his ears escaping their confines. 

“That’s right! Wow—you’re really good at this. Maybe you should have also been scouted!” He teased.

You giggled, the happiness from getting it right and the idea of you working with a gun seemed ludicrous. “Sadly, I may be too clumsy for that kind of work. With my type of luck, I’d probably trip over my feet and mess up a crime scene.”

The automated voice announcing the next station broke through the lighthearted conversation. Spencer’s eyes widened ever so slightly, indicating that this was his stop.

“I guess this is it, huh? See you soon then, Spencer?”

He sandwiched his lower lip between his pearly teeth. “Would you be interested in purposefully seeing each other next time? I would love to get to know you more—over dinner? Coffee? Any would be great—you don’t have to say yes of course but yeah.”

“Can I say yes to all of the above?” You teased. “I would love to.”

Spencer started to get up, hands pulling on his satchel to secure it. The train was coming to a stop and you could begin to see the stop come into view.

Your hand quickly reached out to tug on his rolled sleeve. “Wait—how do we contact each other?”

“It’s tucked in your book. My number, I mean,” he laughed. The sound coaxing you to release your own. “See you!”

Your eyes tracked him getting off the train and his would meet yours one last time, before disappearing towards the station’s nearest exit. Your hands hastily opened the front page to where a new object was slotted in between without you knowing.

His calling card.

Federal Bureau of Investigation - Behavioral Analysis Unit SSA Dr. Spencer Reid 1-761-xxx-xxxx

Giggling, you fished your phone from the confines of your wallet and quickly sent out a text.

Hey. Are you a magician too, by any chance? 

**

The fourth or better yet, the planned first—two strings interwoven by fate

Spencer hadn’t been able to explain the circumstances that led him here tonight—walking through a nearby park in the sparkly but cold weekend night with a beautiful woman right by his side. 

The dinner date had gone surprisingly well. So great in fact that he didn’t want it to end. Suggesting to walk you back home rather than use his blue well beaten vehicle left parked near the restaurant was his idea to prolong the night. 

He was well aware that you both could be exposing yourselves to a seasonal bout of cold but for the first time, it didn’t matter to his overactive and over-analytical brain. Nor did it seem to matter to you—given with how vigorously she accepted his suggestion to walk. 

Your dainty right hand was wrapped around the bouquet of flowers he personally selected. An array of daisies, daffodils, and sedums.

Joy from having to meet you, to new beginnings, and affection.

Spencer wanted to convey what he had been feeling since that run-in the coffee shop. Regardless if you knew what they meant.

This was all uncharted territory and the incidents that brought them into each other’s worlds was baffling to say the least. 

Was this the really the works of fate?

Does this prove that destiny is true and the notion of having free choice is a lie we tell ourselves?

He concluded it probably didn’t matter.

All that mattered was where he was now—with you.

“So you really took all those degrees all together?” you clarified, eyes widening from disbelief. “The amount of studying and writing you’ve done must have been massive.”

“Well, it did help that I could read fast—20,000 words per minute, but I could still remember my hands cramping from the amount I had to type down.”

“Of course you can still remember, with your eidetic memory and all. That must be nice—never forgetting any novel you’ve read.”

He shrugged. “It does have it’s perks but between you and me, there is a downside to it.”

You halted in her step, staring inquisitively up at him. 

Spencer found it cute—how even with yout heeled boots on, you could only reach up to his chest. It gave him this sense of protectiveness over you being. 

“Oh yeah, like what?”

He pondered. “Well, we did have this one vampire case and one of the victim’s laptop password was ‘Cullen’ and I didn’t get the reference—thought it was ‘colon’ actually. So I decided to read the first book and didn’t like it.”

“You actually read ‘Twilight’?” You giggled. It sounded like wind chimes echoing through the trees.

“I was curious!” His voice went up an octave. “Is that what teens are reading, really? What ever happened to reading ‘Lord of the Flies’ or Franz Kafka during high school, for that matter?” 

“The one where a group of boys are stranded on an island or the one where the protagonist turns into a cockroach? Doesn’t really read romance for teen girls, Spencer.”

He chuckled. “And a 104 year old vampire does?”

“It’s about the idea,” you continued on walking, free hand swinging in between you—all he had to do was reach out and intertwine it with his but could he do that? Should he? Would she want that? “How Bella is your average, teen next door and someone like Edward, mysterious and handsome, could fall for her. It’s about the premise—I mean which teenage girl didn’t dream of something like that?”

“Does that include you too?”

You laughed. “I mean—Edward isn’t really my type but sure, I guess.”

Spencer decided to do it. He tentatively reached out his pinky to yours, looping them together.

There, a small touch you could say no to.

He waited for the reaction. From himself, there was a lack of worry for germs (this surprised him) and from you, the possibility of rejecting his small advances. With a breath lodged in his throat, Spencer watched a shy smile grace your face and cheeks turn further pink. 

Empowered by the reaction, he reached out to intertwine the rest of his freezing hand with yours and proceeded to tuck both into his coat pocket. Spencer felt his cheeks emit warmth, wondering where his courage came from. If Morgan just saw him now, no doubt he’d get a pat at the back and a whispered ‘you’ve got serious game, kid.’

“It’s a good thing he isn’t my type at all, don’t you think so?” You whispered. “I mean, you don’t sparkle in the sun, do you?”

His laughter echoed through the otherwise empty streets. 

“Oh god—that was so so bad. Ignore my cheesy flirting, please.”

“No, no,” he shook his head, feeling lightheaded from your presence. “I don’t think I do, actually. We could check—” clearing his throat “—once the weather gives way to the sun.”

It seemed like you got what he was subtly stating. “That long, huh? I’ll hold you to that promise.”

“Please do.”

Both your steps slowed to a stop in front of your apartment complex.

Spencer sighed under his breath, he really didn’t want the night to end. There was still so much to talk about—anything and nothing at the same time. Is this what they meant when they said time flies when you’re having fun? 

“Well,” you squeezed his hand twice. “This is it. I had fun tonight, Spencer.”

He squeezed back in return. “I did too. Can I—call you again?”

You nodded, a single tendril of hair escaping from its' loose bun.

Mesmerized, Spencer reached forward and secured it behind your reddening ear. “Get home safe.”

“I doubt anything would happen between my way up from the elevator to my door but I will. Drive safe and let me know you got in safely, got it?”

He reluctantly let go of your hand, slowly backing away without turning his back on you. Each second seeing you bundled up in a coat with flowers still on hand was an image he never wanted to forget, never wanted to miss.

As he was a few steps away, the wind carried your sweet voice to his ears.

“Hey, Spencer. There’s one thing I think you forgot to take with you.” 

He patted his coat, unsure as to what you were pertaining to. Eyes scanning his being when the distinct sound of your heels against the pavement, getting closer and closer, made him look up.

A pair of soft warm lips met his cheeks. 

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

His jaw dropped. The act short circuited his otherwise intelligent brain. It felt like every thought had dropped away, turning insignificant, compared to the tensed silence between two individuals once considered strangers but now intertwined in a way he could not explain in any language he knew. 

Little white specks floated down from the sky, coloring the moment in the lightest color ever possible—a hue that symbolized new beginnings.

Before his mind could catch up, Spencer felt himself moving.

Towards you.

Closing in. 

Cupping your cheeks.

And meeting his own lips with the ones that short circuited his brain.

In that moment, all he could comprehend was the smell of you—like freshly cleaned laundry dried under the sun. The taste of you—cherries with a hint of the red wine you drank over dinner. And the feel of you���warm, hands grasping his coat tight, flowers dropped on the ground, momentarily forgotten.

These were details he willed to engrave in his eidetic memory. Observations he doesn’t want to forget.

And you, the single woman he hopes to never lose.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[ddejavvu]

could you please write one where it's an established relationship and Spencer is too focused on the reader sitting across from him because she's got new hair/makeup/clothes, up to you. And she catches him staring so she kisses his cheek with something like "eyes on work, doctor" and walks away and Morgan and Emily snicker when her lipstick's left on his cheek PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE could you write this one mei? 👉👈🥺

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You suppose it's your fault for having used your new set of nails so distractingly the night before. After all, why wouldn't Spencer have visions of a mere twelve hours ago, when those same french tips had been wrapped delicately wrapped around his stiff cock, ghosting along the soft skin of his belly, and nestled into the heated flesh of his balls.

"Reid," Prentiss calls, intent on wringing out his brain like a sponge to find an answer to the obscure question she's thinking of. He doesn't respond, still staring blankly at your nails.

"Reid," She tries again, tracking his eyeline. JJ's attention has been called now, because it's rare that Spencer is unfocused. She notices the same thing that Prentiss does, and you share a cheeky grin with the BAU ladies before tapping your nails on your desktop.

The clicking sounds snap Spencer out of his funk and you're equal parts amused and endeared by his immediate blush, like someone spilled pink pain over his cheeks and it had spread uncontrollably. It streaks down his neck and up his ears, but he tries maintaining some semblance of composure when he blinks up at you.

"Hm?"

"Prentiss wanted to ask you something," You speak over the girls' giggles, and he flounders in trying to straighten out the paperwork on his desk. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, tie suddenly too tight for his flushed skin to make contact with, and you take your leave so that he'll be able to offer her his undivided attention.

You use the time that it takes her to stop snickering with JJ, grabbing your empty coffee mug and taking Spencer's own in your other hand. You make for the kitchenette to refill them, dipping down to press a kiss to Spencer's cheek before you leave.

"Get your head out of the gutter, pretty boy," You croon, biting your tongue to stop your lips from lifting in a smile at the way Emily and JJ shriek over the kiss mark you'd left on his cheek.

[softdoctorreid]

warm hugs | spencer reid

summary: another agent makes a comment about spencer’s ‘dad-bod’, but how can he want to change that when being a dad is his favorite thing? anon requested platonic dad-bod spence whose kid says he’s comfy like a teddy bear 🥺🧸

• mentions of body image, food

+++     +++     +++

When your name lit up on his phone, it was a welcome sight in the midst of a day that had Spencer feeling down. “Spence, I’m so sorry,” you said. “I’m gonna be stuck at work a little later today. Could you pick Lily up from school?”

“Of course. Is everything okay?” he asked, leaning back against the wall of the empty office he’d taken refuge in.

“Yeah, just a last-minute meeting, it’s all good. How about I pick up some dinner and dessert on the way home as a treat?” He hesitated, and while he was the profiler in the relationship, you’d gotten good at reading him over the years. “Babe, is everything okay with you? You’ve never thought about turning down something sweet before.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, trying to backpedal. “I don’t know, it was just a stupid comment another agent made.”

“What did they say?”

“Just pointing out that I don’t look the way I did a few years ago. Something about domesticity and putting on weight.”

Agent Hill had once been an assistant agent around the BAU bullpen until his transfer up to the New York Office. A training seminar had him back in the area for the first time in years, and he’d popped by Quantico to make a round of reunions. While he was chatting with everyone and making quips, he’d locked eyes on Spencer. “SSA Reid,” he’d said. “Haven’t seen you in a while! Looks like there’s a little more of you to see, huh? Domestic life must be treating you well.”

Spencer knew it was meant to be some sort of joke, but it didn’t lessen the way he felt suddenly too much, too conscious of the little extra weight he’d been carrying around his midsection since their daughter Lily had been a baby. It wasn’t something that normally bothered him, but then again it wasn’t something other people normally commented on, outside of you resting your head on his tummy and waxing poetic about how comfortable he was.

Spencer pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he drove to the school. Lily was always a welcome distraction from whatever he was ruminating on, but the way the four-year old was frowning in the backseat demanded particular attention. Her answers about her day were short and vague, unlike her usual cheerful self. It wasn’t until they got home that he finally got her to admit what was on her mind.

“I just wanted to finish my book during nap time, but Teacher got mad at me and she said I wasn’t allowed. The she took it for the rest of the day. It wasn’t fair,” she grumbled. “I just wanted to read my book!”

Spencer would talk to her later about rules, and maybe try to get permission from her teacher to let her read instead, but that could wait. Right now he just needed to get his little girl out of this funk.

“So you had a bad day, huh? And you’ve got some bad feelings now?”

Lily nodded, sticking out her lip in a perfect pout.

“Then I guess it’s up to me to turn that frown…” - he snatched her up in his arms, maneuvering her over his shoulder - “upside down!” Holding tight to her he spun them around until she was giggling, her little feet flailing, hands clutching at his sweater.

The moment he dropped her back onto the couch he began to tickle her, ensuring her laughter had no chance to subside. When she seemed to have tired herself out from laughing he finally let up. “That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asked. “I like seeing your smile. So tell me, what would help make these bad feelings go away?”

Lily thought for a moment, pressing her lips together in a thin line the exact way her father did when he was deep in concentration. “Can we make brownies? And maybe watch the Elsa movie?”

“Of course we can.” Both tasks had once been a challenge for him, but he’d learned to make a box mix without burning the house down over the years, and had long since surrendered to the fact that he could not escape the endless loop of children’s movies. While Frozen was ingrained in his memory after the first watch, he learned to tolerate the repeat watches and soundtrack plays for the joy it brought to his daughter. She in fact treated him to her own rendition of the songs while they stirred the brownie mix, her energetic demeanor returning as he probed her with questions about the movie’s characters and what was happening in her favorite books. Just before he placed them in the oven, she insisted on adding handfuls of brightly colored sprinkles into the mix, saying it was a magic ingredient.

Lily insisted on changing into a pair of pajamas with Anna and Elsa on them while Spencer set up a cozy nest of blankets and pillows on the living room couch. He started the movie while the brownies baked, slipping away to take them out of the oven while Anna sang about the impending coronation. With one brownie on a plate and two cups of hot cocoa, he returned to her side on the couch. “Here you are, princess,” he said with a small bow, placing the plate in front of her.

“Where’s yours?” Lily asked.

“Oh, I’ll have one later,” he lied. “After all, princesses have first dibs.” The truth was he hadn’t stopped thinking about Agent Hill’s comment. Maybe it was time to get back in shape, shed the new-dad weight he’d never quite lost. That would mean cutting back on sugar - his favorite of the food groups - and the time he spent lying on the couch instead of hitting the gym.

Lily inched close to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head resting on the top of his tummy. Spencer pulled the blanket up over her and draped an arm around her. It was his job to make her feel better, but cuddling with her on the couch was helping to dispel his own sour mood as well.

 “I think Olaf would like your hugs, Papa,” she told him. “You give the best hugs.”

“Is that right?” he asked.

She nodded, the movement tugging his shirt. “Yeah. I like hugging you. You’re soft.” That kernel of shame swelled up again at the comment only a child could make with such innocent bluntness. “And warm. Good for snuggling. You’re like a teddy bear! I love teddies, but I love you better, Papa.” As if for emphasis, she squeezed him in a tighter hug.

That bit of shame immediately began to melt at her words. Lily continued, her eyes never leaving the screen. “Cuz you can do all the things a teddy can’t, and you make brownies with me and you carry me when I’m tired and you’re the most comfy ever. That’s why your hugs are magic.”

They sat on the couch, Lily enraptured by the movie on the screen, and Spencer ruminating over her words. Warm, soft, good for snuggling. Wasn’t that what you were always saying too?

“Papa, are you going to eat a brownie?” Lily asked. “I put the sprinkles in so they’d be extra good!” The puppy dog-eyed pout was another expression she’d picked up from him, and he just couldn’t resist this time. Maybe he didn’t need to. He ventured back into the kitchen, returning with three brownies on the plate. She watched as he took the first bite.

“You’re right!” he told her. “These are the best brownies I’ve ever had!” And they certainly were when saying so produced such a huge smile on Lily’s face. She returned to her position snuggling up with him and he was content to indulge in the sweet treats before them. So maybe it wouldn’t help with the problem of his tummy, but maybe it wasn’t such a problem after all. How could it be when that softness was something his daughter and partner found endearing? If his hugs could make Lily happier and eating desserts was a moment he could share with her, why would he want to change that?

His body was proof of the thing he was proudest of in his life - being a dad. A dad who was always there, who loved lazy weekends snuggled up with his family and treating Lily to sweets she always offered to share with him. He loved that he was someone his daughter felt safe with, that his arms could offer comfort on the bad days and the good days and all the days in-between. 

When you returned home, you found them like that on the couch watching the end of the movie, Spencer caught red-handed with a brownie in his hand. Lily rushed over to greet you with a hug, happily babbling about her day as Spencer quickly finished the brownie before walking over to join you.

Distracted by the closing credits, Lily wandered back to the couch to sing along while Spencer welcomed you home with a kiss.

“Mm, you taste like chocolate. So you’re not still upset about that comment today?” you asked.

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t want to cut out the things that make life sweeter. Lily says my tummy makes me good to hug. Like a teddy bear. How could I give that up?”

You smiled. “She’s right, of course. I mean, I liked hugging you even when you were practically a bean pole. But you are much more comfortable with a little extra padding.” You gave his belly an encouraging pat. “And it’s nice to have more of you to hold onto.”

So his cardigans were a size larger these days, and he had to buckle his belts a couple notches looser than he had before. But those were signs his life had changed, his world had grown, filled by the presence of so much love and sweetness. Maybe there was a little more of him now, but he didn’t care so long as he had a little more to love in his life.

+++

tell me what you think here!

[gleesongtournament]

Glee Song Tournament Round 1

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

I determined this by a roll. Caden is the lucky Sim and gets a knitting basket, in his favourite colour. Maybe he’ll be joining Agnes in the village square as she cross-stitches?

We add an easel to the lot which turns out to be less popular than the Watcher anticipated.

Another day, another pixel that despises cooking. And what’s this occurring in Moojito’s shed? Spencer! You’re supposed to be an IRRESPONSIBLE Sim - not that we’re complaining.

Piper rejects Avery’s cooking in favour of some grilled eggplant (and seems to be having a better time), while Caden receives a hug from our main girlie.

For some reason in spite of the general bonhomie of everyone else, she’s in a bit of a funk today so we leave it to GOOD traited Spencer to lend reassurances while Pauline looks on encouragingly.

Then she refuses an embrace from him. Yikes. 

Even though Lilac’s in a strange mood, she’s bringing all the attraction alerts to the yard.

In spite of last night’s party pooper Patchy in the background - not to mention Piper’s hand going through the back of Avery’s head - I think that everyone’s outside for some fresh country air and wholesome bonding time. But Lilac evidently had another kind of bondage in mind, and makes Avery an offer that they can’t refuse.

Evidently it was just ‘hugs’ that she wasn’t in the mood for today.

We’re going off-site today so with our bachelorette occupied, chore montage hour kicks off early. Spencer and Pauline were our gardeners, Aubrey fished, and Lilac eventually took care of Moojito with her job much easier thanks to Spencer.

The second to have his embrace spurned is Caden, who is so embarrassed that he goes upstairs to cry in the closet. I make him play chess for a skill building activity, while Piper swims.

No Aubrey, you cannot 'attempt to swipe' from your own residence. Just hang in there a few more minutes.

For this household’s mini competition to see who gets a solo date with the bachelorette, we are putting our singing pipes to use! Doubtless anticipating the humiliation that awaits, our pixels are very reluctant to go inside. 

Even the promise of nectar isn’t sufficient to lure them, so the Watcher temporarily sacrifices her screencaps and activates the social club.

Oh hey, it’s Lilac’s old buddy Jacques. Who takes the opportunity to steal Avery's drink.

Caden and Lilac are looking like a couple on date night until they’re joined by Lilac’s crush Avery - then Aubrey disrupts the mood as only a KLEPTOMANIAC sim can, attempting to swipe the… wall graffiti.

Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t work. I love Klepto sims.

When’s a better time to sing in public then after some failed theft embarrassment? Everyone is at such a low level of singing that we can only do that one country ballad. Pauline and Piper take it outside, while Caden discovers what many femme sims have known for decades and that the bathroom is the perfect place to make a new friend.

Caden must have received some encouragement from the toilet bot, as he becomes inspired and is the first sim to reach Level 2.

(part ii coming soon! when canva is back up)

@plasmafruittree @x-digitaldollhouse-x @mdshh

@invisiblequeen @sleepyselkiesims @akitasimblr

[jovenshires]

THE BATTLE OF THE BANDS AU OFFICIAL SOUNDTRACK

THE BEST OF THE CHOSEN

the chosen is an alternative rock band, whose members are spencer agnew (lead singer / secondary guitarist), shayne topp (lead guitarist), damien haas (bassist / vocalist), and courtney miller (drummer / vocalist). known for their iconic guitar riffs and heavy bass lines, the band has been accused of relying heavily on their instrumentals to distract from their lead singer's vocal insecurity, to which they have not disagreed. hit songs include "short kings," "i was there man," and "nuclear rain." the band is inspired by the early 2000's alternative movement, specifically weezer, green day, and simple plan.

THE BEST OF FTC

ftc (short for full-time cast) is an indie trio known for their slow melodies and sad lyrics. their songs, typically written by their lead singer tommy bowe, are often explicitly queer, romantic, and yearning, though they also frequently feature themes of self-doubt and internal struggle. other members of the band are amanda lehan-canto (singer / guitarist) and kimmy jimenez (drummer / occasional background singer). with songs such as "creekside killer," "reading of the will," and "bones," ftc is inspired by artists such as boygenius, hozier, and mitski.

THE BEST OF KOLIVTION

kolivition is a hip-hop duo fronted by keith leak jr. (singer / rapper) and backed by olivia sui (pianist / dj / sound mixer). they incorporate r&b, funk, and rap into their music as well, with their soulful beats and psychedelic sounds. kolivition's songs typically revolve around romance in the modern world. the duo's hit songs include "life's a party," "give me all your money," and "bobby from the block." kolivition is inspired by childish gambino, frank ocean, and kendrick lamar.

THE BEST OF COVENTRY

coventry is a female-led punk band consisting of erin dougal (singer / guitarist), heidi ha (singer / drummer), and selina garcia (singer / bassist). they typically theme their songs around female empowerment and relationships - romantic, platonic, or otherwise. their hit songs include "sluts," "sunflower," and "wish i could (say the same)." they are inspired by paramore, no doubt, and veruca salt.

THE BEST OF LET'S DO THIS

let's do this, though a relatively new band, is an enthusiastic underdog pop trio. its members, chanse mccrary (lead singer / guitarist), angela giarratana (bassist / vocalist), and arasha lalani (drummer / vocalist), are clearly tuned into the pop scene and thus make current, upbeat, snappy music that is practically made for the radio, even if it's yet to take off. their songs rely heavily on romance, and are often either explicitly queer or gender-neutral. their top tracks are "i lied," "lost the room," and "coroner." ldt is based off of artists such as conan gray, maisie peters, and troye sivan.

THE BEST OF SMOSH

smosh is a moden reinvention of an early 2000's pop-punk / alternative duo. back after a 6-year hiatus and preparing to win a competition they've already lost, ian hecox (singer / bassist), anthony padilla (singer), and their rotating backup band are re-entering both battle of the bands and mainstream. their music centers around personal identity and how that identity affects one's relationships. though they are re-inventing their sound, smosh was and is still known for their heavy instrumentals and all-star vocals. hit songs include "shut up," "the sun," and "destiny," and the band was based off of twenty one pilots, fall out boy, and panic! at the disco.

THE BEST OF JACKIE UWEH

jackie uweh - also known as the most talented voice of our generation - is an r&b / soul singer who sells out football stadiums with her powerhouse vocals. her songs often feature themes of feminism, romantic relationships, and a continuous journey of self-discovery. this is her first year judging battle of the bands, and, according to her, hopefully not her last. jackie's hit songs include "buggin'," "over easy," and "been with." she is inspired by beyonce, rhianna, and lizzo.

THE BEST OF MYTHICAL

mythical, which consists of rhett mclaughlin (singer / guitarist) and link neal (singer / guitarist) and their fantastic backing band, is a country band notable for having won battle of the bands ten years ago. since then, they have created their own empire, complete with a record label and several signed artist - previously including ian hecox of smosh fame. though they are a country band, mythical is also known to incorporate alternative genres into their music, especially their most recent album, which has been by far their most controversial in terms of sound. their musical themes vary, sometimes instead focusing on story-telling rather than relatability, but typically they utilize love (romantic, platonic, and familial), religion, and self-expression and exploration. their songs include "will it?," "buddy system," and "let's talk about that." they are inspired by james and the shame, noah kahan, and the lumineers.

THE BEST OF TREVOR

trevor (that's it, just trevor) is a soundcloud-based rapper who's honestly just happy to be here. an up-and-coming (read: thus unsuccessful) artist, trevor is a part-time musician and a part-time sound designer and editor. after working on mythical's latest album, he was invited to emcee the battle of the bands and is ecstatic at the chance to promote himself. trevor focuses on the self-described subgenre "meme rap," which views modern life through a comical gen z lens. his songs include "another banger," "silly guy," and "o7," and he is based on yung gravy, yungblud, and danny gonzalez.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Nothing More

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Maeve Donovan

Word Count: ~700

Warnings: unrequited love

Summary: You find the courage to tell the man you love that you love him, but he does something that stops you in your tracks and breaks your heart.

Square Filled: maeve donovan for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Okay, today’s the day. Today is the day you’re going to tell the guy you like that you like him. This could go one of two ways: he likes you back and everything is right with the world or he doesn’t like you back and you’ll forever sit next to him in total embarrassment. The only reason why you’re doing this is because you believe he’ll reciprocate your feelings.

Not only do you two work well together by playing off ideas of one another, always know what the other is thinking, and genuinely love each other’s company, but there’s been subtle flirting between the two of you since he got here. You’ve been at this job a lot longer than he has, and everything changed when he got into the office. He does things for you without asking such as file away paperwork, get you coffee, etc. that he doesn’t do for anyone else, and he has all the telltale signs of someone who likes someone else.

The pen you’re holding is in your mouth since you can’t contain your nerves. Yes, all of these positives are on your side that clearly outweigh the negatives, but the small negatives are so heavy that they actually outweigh the positives. You’re not the kind of woman to make the first move; you’ve always waited for the guy to do it. However, everyone knows Spencer is completely clueless about a lot of things.

You’re so sure he likes you back, so why is the pit still in your stomach?

JJ walks into the office in a rush since she was the one to drop Henry off at school, but she pauses when she sees you.

“Did you do it?” she asks excitedly.

She knows you like someone but she doesn’t know that person is Spencer.  No one knows the man you’ve been pining after is none other than Dr. Spencer Reid. If Derek knew about this, he’d tease you endlessly. If JJ and Pen knew about this, she would try to get you two together instead of letting it run its course naturally. If Emily knew about this, she’d make all kinds of innuendos that would just confuse Spencer.

It’s best if you keep this little crush to yourself until you and Spencer make it official.

“No, not yet.”

“When are you gonna do it?”

“Soon. Today, actually. I’m gonna do it today.”

“Tell me how it goes,” she grins and walks off.

Spencer walks in ten seconds later, and you’re out of your chair before you can talk yourself out of doing this. You bounce over to him with a smile on your face and give him a quick hug which he gives back.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come in. There’s something I need to tell you.” Before you can another word out, a young woman follows Spencer inside. A young, brunette woman who is beautiful. She stops by Spencer a little too close for your liking. “Who is this?”

“I was gonna wait until everyone was together, but you’re here right now. Y/N, this is Maeve Donovan. She’s my girlfriend.” 

Just like that, your entire world comes crashing down. Your chest tightens painfully, your vision becomes a bit blurry, and you have to hold yourself up on the wall to keep yourself from falling down. Everything you thought you knew is completely wrong.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Maeve says and extends her hand to you.

“I have a girlfriend,” Spencer smiles proudly.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you,” you say hollowly and shake her hand.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you snap out of your funk. “Nothing. I’m happy for you.”

“What did you want to tell me?”

“What?”

“You said you wanted to tell me something. What is it?”

You open your mouth to tell him the truth but you think of the smile he had on his face when he introduced Maeve. He looks so happy. What kind of friend you’d be if you took that away from him?

“I completed your files for you. I wasn’t busy. I thought I’d help.”

“Thank you.” He turns to Maeve with a smile. “That’s why she’s the best coworker here. She’s a really good friend.”

Right, coworker… friend. That’s all you’ll ever be, you guess.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[hikarry]

What do you mean Spencer missed Hallowen? Sacrilege!

Lil guy over here was actually wearing his best Crowley skin at a party until 3am with his dear brother - whom dressed as a demon himself, which I did not miss the joke on, mind you - some old and new friends and an angel of my own

Oh yeah, I managed to do it. Not exactly the angel I had planned to go with, but an angel nonetheless and, I'm happy to announce, we were not the only angelic&demonic lil pair at the party, or the only bloody Crowley and Aziraphale!

Now, I won't share any pictures my Aziraphale and I took together because the only 2 I have have a bit of a problem: the first one was taken by the worst photographer on the planet (my Aziraphale. She might be a dear, but Jesus Christ-), the second one is not for public eye, but we do have planned on meeting again and probably doing a little Christmas inspired photoshoot, so hopefully the actual photographic proof there works out better

Mind you, I'm a stubborn idiot. We walked to the club and yours truly might or might not almost have broken his nose, being literally saved at least twice by the angel that partnered up with me for the night, pulling me away from stray street lamps, because I refused to take off my shades for "My eyes are not cannot compliant because my contact lenses were delayed in transit and didnt arrive yet" reasons, so i could barely see a meter in front of my own nose.

Long Halloween party story short:

- My Aziraphale got hit on by one of my friends because apparently I inspire no fear on these God forsaken people

- I quickly figured out Crowley does not wear that ridiculous lil tie for style, but for "Being Dragged Around By The Angel Like a Bloody Dog" reasons

- I did end up finding 4 other Crowleys (a gorgeous one escaping the cliché the 4 other copies fell into and actually choosing Eden Crowley and, my man, all the kudos to her. Not only were her wings absolutely gorgeous, but they MOVED) and we absolutely ganged up together for most of the night

- I learned that one should never try and recreate the Apology Dance while wearing slippery shoes on a floor sticky with alcohol, at risk of breaking a bloody leg (not me. Did give me a good laugh, tho)

- A really cool guy with a Tenth Doctor costume joined the Crowley gang at some point and kept paying for free beers for the rest of us which <3 I will never forget you, random fellow David Tennant fan whose name I don't recall

- Most songs were, as predicted, spooky themed, Brazilian funk or portuguese romantic/folk, which can be fun, don't mind me, but they did play Under Pressure almost at the end of the night and the 3 remaining Crowleys - yours truly included - may or may not have completely butchered the song, trying to "sing" (I would call it yell, if we are being realistic) as loudly as we could and jumping through the whole "Can we give ourselves one more chance?" segment of the song as my Aziraphale and the girlfriend of one of the other Crowleys (wearing that really gorgeous Wednesday Addams black dress she wears for a party in the TVshow, ya know the one) very heavily pretended they didn't know us, but hey: brotherhood amongst demons and what not. If Queen starts playing and one Crowley starts yelling and jumping, the other Crowleys shall yell and jump. It's the law

- Dunnot! I repeat: DUNNOT! Try to pin a taller Aziraphale against a wall when you are a Tiny Crowley because you will end up embarrassing yourself

All this to say: Good Omens fans are terrifying. We are literally everywhere, and we are all equally bloody sick. Yet, my fellow crazies keep being some of the coolest people I've ever met in my life. I swear, this fandom is the gift that keeps on giving, and I lowkey own my wildest night in 23 years to this silly fandom

Alas, pics? I got some silly selfies i took while getting ready and sent to some of my fellow degenerates

And, as proof of the lighting at the party being absolutely shit:

You cannot imagine how much I enhance the brightness on that damn photo and it was the only one I bothered taking for obvious reasons (yes, at that point my blazer and tie were being carried around by my Aziraphale because they were annoying the fuck out of me and I'm an arsehole that doesn't like to carry shit on his hands and my angel was a sweetheart)

Alas, I said I would do it and I did it

Happy belated Halloween, sweethearts