#she’s just a bow person you know?

[smilesrobotlover]

This is the last of the Kori doodles for today I swear

[kickbutts-singsongs]

Okay but why did they never have any holiday themed POI episodes?

More specifically, how come they never had a Halloween episode and played “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell in the background?

[lilacerull0]

the initial appeal of lila to me was how in her childhood days, she was the brightest student, but managed to do it in the most unconventional way possible, a way that so closely mirrored my academic experience and that i was never able to find a description of until now. the prototype of the good at school kid is always somehow related to wanting to prove one's self to someone or living up to the expectations, be it your own or somebody else's, there is a level of obedience involved and a desire to be liked (sometimes hidden, sometimes quite outwardly) and it almost always ends in gifted kid burnout and being surrounded by this sort of portrayal has always felt kind of isolating to me who did and continues to get top marks, but fails to bow their head. as a child, lila is the best student in her school, but not because she has to be. it is simply the consequence of who she is, but her particular brand of intelligent fails to meet the parameters of how students are supposed to behave. and okay yeah, this is portrayed in fiction, but that kind of student usually doesn't get top marks in spite of being the smartest person in the room. lila does. because she is able to translate the awfully restricted, written according to some unwritten step by step guidebook, material (that is supposed to offer information, but unable free thinking or thinking at all) and give it her own spin that results in teachers being obligated to grade her accordingly because she understands what's being taught, but also resent her because her understanding of it is too out there to be acceptable. she takes the material out of context (the context being school) and tries to understand it for what it is simply because it interests her. it's the sentences that have been following me for as long as i can remember "you're incredible bright, but you wander off" or "your knowledge lacks structure" or "you're incredibly bright, but your way of thinking is incompatible with the world's mechanisms". (something that has been said about me in kindergarten because that's an okay thing to do to a child apparently) and i have mentioned this in relation to lila before, but i think she is able to keep this attitude alive because it isn't an attitude at all, it's a way of being. she isn't a rebel by choice, she's a rebel almost biologically. (which is an advantage, but the world isn't too into people who think, no restrictions attached) it's almost like her main trait is having too much individuality which was always how i felt about myself and what causes people to characterize you as unfeeling. i love her forever <3

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i saw someone say that glimmer shouldn't have been manipulated by shadow weaver because she already knew that shadow weaver was evil.

i'm sorry? that doesn't make her immune to manipulation. that just sounds like victim blaming to me, which isn't surprising coming from this fandom.

not to mention, catra also knew from the beginning that shadow weaver was manipulative and abusive, but she still got manipulated by shadow weaver later on. shouldn't you be applying the same logic to her then? or does it only work on glimmer?

[bigothteddies]

oh my god re: your recent post... the 'girl dinner' shit. omfg. idc if it's 'not that deep' you're still reinforcing terrible shit!!! and also the like 'boys when they see a stick/cool rock' and 'girls when they time travel vs boys when they time travel' wojaks. the gender-fication of barbie vs. oppenheimer. why the fuck is the recent internet zeitgeist hyper stereotypical cisnormativity. like. i thought we had collectively outgrown this.

exactly. And that’s all just some parts of it too. People pretend they’re so on top of things but it’s just because they don’t want to seem out of touch and offensive. It’s wild watching people barf out gender binaries with new terms and new ways to categorize trans people as not their gender and new ways to reinforce the same gender roles on ourselves but in “good” ways now. It’s just….really frustrating and pretty terrifying at the same time

[raiiny-bay]

it’s honestly kinda crazy to me that kel & co were literally the first OCs i ever made

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

Ngl, if Tiana doesn't wield a firearm in some way in her new series, I'm gonna be so disappointed. Firearms were already very legal and commonly used in the States by the mid-late 1920s (which is when TPATF mostly takes place), so I'd like to see her sport it at least once. She'd be the first Disney Princess to canonically wield a gun/firearm. They seriously need to make that happen. Also, why doesn't fanart of her wielding a firearm exist????

[navree]

you can call anne boleyn many things, good and bad alike. a protestant martyr, however, is not one of those fucking things

[denkies]

My mom woke me up at 2am to say "I just want to let you know that I'm not crazy, but I am the bride of Christ and he needs you to take him more seriously." and no one is hiring me, so I can't afford to move out of this wackass fucking house!!! Bro I hate it here!!!

[lesenbyan]

[ID: two FFXIV screenshots of Cynthia, an Auri woman with redish skin and red hair. The left side of her face is modded to appear burned and she wears thigh high boots, spandex short shorts, and a shirt with a deep V neck, all dyed black. In the first image her fingers are interlocked on her stomach as she looks down at the camera to her side, smiling softly. In the second, her left hand is raised to her face in thought and she looks out of the camera judgmentally. /end ID]

guess who got a /dote for bein Cute while I was AFK

[arolesbianism]

Ok I'm fully Jackie pilled now I fully adore her what if you took a lesbian with adhd and make her the worst person you've ever met

[cerealbishh]

blurry dylan and oyoyo bows(9.7.23)(x)

[vampiricgf]

☆ FAVORITE GIRL

ᝰ you think he's just another frat boy with meaningless flirty words for the person he sits next to in a boring class (he's down horrendous)

frat boy satoru x f!reader, college au, somewhat established relationship you guys are classmates, sfw no smut, alcohol consumption, cigarette smoking, just lots of him being an idiot with a massive huge earth shattering crush <3

"And how's my favorite girl?"

"Worse, thought you'd skip this class again and we'd have some peace." You roll your eyes as you slide the straps of your backpack over the back of your chair.

Satoru Gojo, nuance Sig Ep and unfortunately glued to your side since the first day of statistics for reasons unknown to you. You'd made an effort to avoid members of greek life on campus, not wanting to get involved in party culture or whatever new dramatics were unfolding with its subgroups. That only seemed to encourage him though, casually throwing his arm around you through the duration of lectures and begging in that whining tone of his for you to come by the house.

You never did, you also pointedly ignored most of his text messages and actively regretted ever having to give him your phone number after the one assignment you'd been paired up for. Outside the occasional drunk text where he'd plead for you to show up, which did make you feel both bad for ignoring him and a little high off the attention. Not that you'd ever admit to clicking your phone lock and grinning to yourself in bed on those nights.

"C'mon, I'm the highlight of your day!" He shoots you that signature megawatt smile and you stick out your tongue at him, scooting your chair in the opposite direction and creating a wide gap as you sit down.

You see him frown and for a half second it looks genuine, making a pang of guilt reverberate through you so you scoot back to where you were and he resumes pestering you with some latest escapade in the Eps house as you both wait for the stream of students to peter off and the lecture to begin.

"Hey so, why you been ignoring my texts?" He pulls a pout and god you wish it wasn't actually cute.

"You send me weird combinations of emojis Gojo, what can I say to that?"

"It's Satoru," he quips almost immediately, barely allowing you to finish.

"Alright, Satoru, it's because you send me weirdo shit. Say hi every once in a while and maybe I'll say it back." You shrug, opening your laptop and preparing yourself to block out his incessant whispering for the next hour while you take down notes.

~

"You actually came!"

The sheer volume in the cramped, would-be living room of the house made you wince in tandem with his shout as Satoru threw an arm around you.

"I'm just humoring you so you stop bugging me!" You shout back, accepting a cup of god knows what from his hands and already formulating a plan of when it would be polite to bow out for the night without a barrage of where'd you go texts.

He doesn't answer you, too busy immediately yelling at some other guy over the volume of the music but you don't miss the way his hand slides down your back to settle at the lower curve, just above your ass. It makes you smile a little, despite your own misgivings about the scene you're in.

But quickly it becomes too much, being jostled by a permanently sweaty and horny crowd in such a cramped space, and you find yourself drifting outside to a patio sparsely populated with only a handful of smokers. The alcohol buzzing inside your brain makes you crave one, a thick, acrid stream of smoke spreading like thick flower petals blossoming inside your lungs.

One girl catches your eye and slowly you meander over to where she's perched, away from the rest on a railing that's seen one too many coats of poor paint jobs.

"Could I bum one off you?"

"You got a dollar?"

Lamely you pat your hips, absentmindedly searching for one until she lets out a soft laugh and extends the pack in her hand out to you. Marlboro lights, the gold top of it shimmers faintly in the dim light as you slide one out and accept the lighter she passes you.

"I tell myself lights mean I'm working on quitting. What a load of shit." She huffs out a laugh to herself as you flick the lighter and it gives a few sparky coughs before the flame catches, burning the tip of the cigarette into a solid ember cherry.

"I'm Ieiri," she says cordially as you hand back the deep purple lighter.

You give her your name before taking a deep drag of the cigarette, enjoying the feeling of it settling in your chest.

"They should invent a kind of cigarette that doesn't kill you." You say absentmindedly and she cracks a smile.

"Too bad the "healthy " cigarettes of ye old days had asbestos in them."

That makes you laugh, enjoying the way it flows into the air with the breeze that plays against your skin, like a lover running fingers over it and giving you gooseflesh.

"Wait, you're the girl Satorus got statistics with right? Tuesdays and Thursdays?" She asks between puffs, flicking ash off into the dark.

"Yeah, the very same. I figured I should finally take him up on the offer to come over, I've blown him off so many times." Saying out loud makes you feel a little like an ass, he may get on your nerves but he's never been anything but sweet to you.

"You know he's like, obsessed with you, right?" She says with another laugh and it makes you raise a brow.

"Oh yeah?"

She shakes her head, another drag before continuing. "Oh yeah. Gets too drunk every weekend and cries in the bathroom because you didn't show, has a crisis every day because he doesn't know what to say to you in texts. I've never seen him excited about a math course before this semester either, usually it's any excuse to cut class until a prof bitches at him."

With every word a strange sense of giddiness grows in tandem with the alcohol drenching your brain, and you can't help but think about those devastating blue eyes. The opposite of rose colored glasses but it fits, a shade of comfortable blue that tints the world because of him and suddenly you're gripped by the urgent need to go back inside and find him.

"Hey, thanks for the cigarette but I'm gonna go find him. See you inside?" You crush the butt out with the toe of your shoe, grinding it down and giving Ieiri a wave goodbye as the wall of thumping bass and neon light swallows you back up.

It strikes you as incredible how a house can turn into a labyrinth when filled to the brim with bodies and only offering the occasional flash of strobe or neon lights to guide you in the dark. After when feels like hours and checking nearly every room you come across for Satoru, without luck, you find Ierie once again leaning against a closed door with a particularly bored expression.

"Satoru she wasn't saying she was leaving she said she was coming to find you, dummy. Open the door."

As you sidled up beside her she shot you a conspiratorial glance before pulling you closer so you could hear her over the din.

"Can you tell him you're right here? He's such a whiny drunk." She rolls her eyes but you can tell it's playful, although you get the feeling this has happened more than once.

Hesitantly you put your palm against the door, feeling the distant bass thrumming through the wood. "Hey Satoru? I didn't leave, I'm right out here with Ierie!"

There's silence on the other side, making you frown in concern until the door is suddenly wrenched open and you nearly fall right against him. Despite clearly being drunk his hands come to grasp your upper arms gently to steady you before yanking you inside the hazy dark of what you assume was his bedroom.

"You're welcome!" You hear Shoko yell through the door as he sits down in a huff, still holding onto you, against a well worn futon.

You can't help but giggle at the way he almost curls around you, as if determined to attach to your side like some sort of sucker fish. With a bit of wiggling you manage to pull back, sweeping a few stray strands of hair from those baby blues as you do.

It's in that moment, when your fingertips brush his skin, that everything seems to pause. The noise outside seemingly vanishes, and it's like only the two of you exist in a comfortable bubble of silence. You never really noticed how his eyes looked almost crystalline before, too pretty to exist.

"Who gave you eyes like that?" You murmur, more to yourself but nevertheless he beams down at you.

"So you do like me, huh?"

The way he says it, so boyish, so... happy. You can't help but smile back, a shy thing that barely tugs at the corners of your lips.

"Duh, of course I do."

That makes him frown a bit, brows knitting in thought and somehow it made him look even cuter. No fair.

"Then how come you never showed up before? And you don't text me back?" A little pout forms on his lips as he finishes and you're struck with the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

With a superhuman effort you keep yourself focused on answering him. "You're, well... All this," you gesture broadly with your hands as you pull away slightly. "And I'm just a girl you have stats with. I thought maybe you were just yanking me around, being flirty in class but that's it, you know? I didn't wanna look stupid getting my hopes up."

"A girl I have stats with? You're joking, right? You're everything." He says incredulously, eyes wide as if more shocked than insulted that you could've looked at the situation that way.

Heat rushes beneath your skin at that, you're everything, and you know it's not the alcohol making you lightheaded. In your silence he continues.

"Y'know I'm not just messing around with you, I think about you all the time. Sometimes you're all I think about all day-"

With a surge of confidence you grab him by the front of his shirt, pulling him down and cutting him off with your lips pressed against his. It grips you like a fever, a crushing need to taste him. It's all sloppy teeth and tongues and spit but it feels perfectly serendipitous at the same time, an otherworldly calm that takes hold of your mind as your lips move against one another.

As you open your eyes into his you can't help the grin that now stretches wide across your mouth, giggling as you press kiss after kiss against his lips, his cheeks, his forehead and soon enough he's dissolved into a puddle of giggles and faux pouts in your arms.

"Will you tell me I'm your favorite girl again?"

"I'll tell you that forever."

[beegalactica]

real 'glow up' advice i wish i had

Imagine getting to the point in life where YOU are your own vision board; where you are that girl who has the life that you want, and you don't have to seek it out through other people. That should be the ultimate goal.

Here are subtle things that you should be doing to channel your ideal person and improve yourself for the better FROM THE INSIDE

take care of your hygiene: brush your teeth every day, wash your face with soap, wash your hair, take meaningful showers

be kind to yourself: speak nicely to yourself, treat yourself every now and then, love yourself exactly the way you came

make the effort: do your hair and wear something cute, even if you're only going to the supermarket. I bet your ideal self looks stunning wherever she goes, so make that effort if you really want to become her

move your body: dance to some music for just 5 minutes, take a walk, get off the bus a (reasonable) few stops earlier and walk the rest of the way

romanticise the hell out of your life: wear those bows, create that vision board, play that aesthetic background music even if you're just washing the dishes, wear that outfit!!!!!

admire yourself: look at yourself in the mirror and remember what you look like, take a million selfies to look back and smile at, give yourself a compliment every time you pass your reflection

get creative: if you want cute decor, make it! if you want cute clothes, find some easy DIYs!

focus on what you can control: if you cannot change the situation, let it resolve itself. don't waste your precious time obsessing over something you cannot change

get to know yourself (again): rediscover your hobbies, try new activities, learn to appreciate your solitude, get out of your shell

I really wish I was part of a community like this when I was going through a really insecure and lonely phase of my life.

Instead of deciding to wake up a 3am every day from now on, and trying to reach 20k steps every day, start small and walk your way up to greatness!

[hairmetal666]

No one knows who writes the Hawkins High Tattler. It comes out every week, without fail, has for almost two decades. Everyone reads it, even teachers, even parents. It's caused more the one suspension, grounding, and even--famously--a shipping off to boarding school.

Steve's never let the Tattler get to him much. He's in it, of course, practically a new story every week. But it's just silly gossip.

Of course, Steve is also, currently, the titular Tattler, so. It's not like he's surprised when his name shows up.

It's his third year, his last year, and he knows everything that ever goes on at Hawkins High. It's pretty easy, honestly. Everyone thinks he's ditzy and vapid; nothing more than hairspray and polos. People will say anything around him, assuming he's not listening or not interested, and then bam. It's in next week's Tattler. No one even suspects him.

The confessions locker probably helps. Down by the theater, busted and unusable, the perfect place for people to leave tips, to tattle on their friends (or enemies, as the case may be).

That's what he's doing right now, checking the confessions locker. After 9:30 on a Friday night, the place silent as the tomb, perfect time for it. Pretty standard fare this week. The only thing of interest is that Eddie Munson was the person who broke all Ms. Click's pencils and left the stubs on her desk. This one, he laughs at, can't wait to publish it; can't wait to talk to Munson about it.

He gets a lot of stuff about Eddie. Most of it he doesn't publish because it's bullshit about satanic rituals--the nerdy kids he babysits play dnd, and there's no way Karen Wheeler is letting anything satanic happen in her basement--or about his sexuality, and one thing Steve doesn't do is out people.

Gathering up this week's submissions, he closes the locker with a soft clink, and he swears, swears he hears the squeak of a tennis shoe on the polished tile of the floor. He freezes, heart in his throat. Nobody has been here this late before.

Seconds pass but there's only silence. Confident he's only hearing things, he heads out, the parking lot just as empty as when he arrived.

---

He sees Eddie a few days later, when he's picking up the kids from the arcade. They typically exchange casual greetings, but as Steve waits, Eddie stands with him, offers him a cigarette.

"Read that was you who messed with Click's pencils. Good one."

Eddie shrugs, gives a little bow and a smile. "Happy to be of service."

"It was my class, when she found them. Never seen her so mad."

"No way," Eddie laughs. "Not even when Hagan drew dicks on all the textbooks?"

"Not even then, man. She was throwing pencil stubs everywhere."

"Fuck, sad I missed it." Eddie takes a drag, Steve's eyes following the movement, lingering on his mouth. Something warm and tingling builds at the base of his spine and he forces his gaze away.

"How long you in detention for?"

"I'm not. Swore it wasn't me, and Click doesn't want to admit she reads the Tattler, so. Not much they could do. "

"I've seen it sitting on her desk!"

"I know! She reads it when she has detention duty!"

They lean against Steve's car, laughing, and Steve feels good. This is good. He likes Eddie. He's funny and dramatic and smart and kind. He's not deserving of any of the mean things that get submitted to the Tattler.

The kids come streaming into the parking lot then, and Eddie stubs out his cigarette, says "see you around, Harrington," and Steve finds himself flushing for reasons he can't quite explain.

---

He starts seeing Eddie around way more. He's in school most days, smoking in the parking lot after the last bell, chatting with Steve in the hallways.

It shows up in the Tattler; big news that the King and the Freak are hanging out. Most of the submissions are about it, increasingly elaborate rumors about their supposedly deep, close friendship.

He wishes he could tell Eddie.

Eventually, Eddie invites him to smoke at the quarry. He doesn't hesitate to say yes, doesn't even bother to try ignoring the swoop in his stomach, the speed of his heart.

They sprawl out in the back of the van, Eddie's loud, raucous music pounding around them, sharing a joint back and forth.

Steve gets hazy, boneless, can't stop watching Eddie, the way his lips purse around the joint, his long hair glinting gold in the weak light of the camping lanterns, the pleased shine of his eyes every time he makes Steve laughs.

He likes Eddie so much. Everything about him, honestly. Butterflies ping in his stomach, happy and slow, and he thinks how nice Eddie's lips are, wonders how soft they must be. And he thinks--he's read the submissions, right--he knows the things they say about Eddie, and he wishes it was true, he wants--he wants--

He wants

---

Steve's running late to check the locker. Lost track of time at the diner with Eddie, and it's making him panic.

He stuffs the submissions haphazardly into the pocket of his hoodie, dancing with nerves, willing himself to grab them all and get out.

Locker emptied, he sprints towards the exit. He has a second to process someone barreling towards him in the dark, but he's going too fast to stop, can only brace himself as they collide.

It sends him sliding across the floor, Tattler submissions spilling out of his pocket like snow. He hits the ground, scrabbling for the papers, praying that whoever is here with him can't see them in the low light.

Hands grips his biceps. "Stevie, Steve, we have to get out of here" and there's a second where he's comforted by the familiar rasp of Eddie's voice before terror spikes again.

He pulls himself from Eddie's grasp, searching for any dropped submissions in easy reach. "Wha--why--what's--"

"I ran into Jason Carver and his band of idiots at the gas station. They're on their way to here to try to catch the Tattler in action."

Steve freezes. "I don't--that's not--I--"

In the deep silence of the empty school, they both hear the slamming of a door, a bitten off giggle. Eddie grabs his wrist and they run. Into the theater room, through a door Steve didn't know existed, to the backstage area of the auditorium.

"You should be safe here," Eddie says.

Panic spirals through him. "I can explain. I was just--I forgot a--I needed--"

"Harrington! I know, okay? I already know."

Steve can only blink at him, swallows rough in his throat. "What--Eddie, I--"

"I saw you. Weeks ago. Forgot my notebook in the theater room after Hellfire and had to run back for it. You were there, at the locker."

"You can't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to."

"No, Munson, you really can't. Nobody can know. Nobody--"

"Swe--Stevie, I promise. The secret's safe with me." He rocks back on his heels, chewing on his lip for a second before he continues. " I--I couldn't figure you out, you know? I saw you around with those kids and it didn't make any sense. King Steve, babysitting tiny nerds? But I saw you at the locker and..."

"You're giving me too much credit, man."

"I don't think so. You're never--fuck, Harrington--you're never mean. At least, not in the last couple years. You spread gossip, but you don't punch down, and you're funny as hell. Mean as shit too, but only to the people who deserve it."

His ears burn and he looks down. "Just because I have fucking--fucking editorial standards doesn't mean that I'm anything special."

Eddie scoffs. "Remember, Stevie, I was reading it a year before you were here. Cruel, vapid garbage. Always the most vile, pointless stories about people who couldn't defend themselves. And how many submissions have you gotten about me, for instance, that you've never used?"

Steve clenches his fists. "I would never--"

"I know. Sweetheart, I know. That's why I li--You're so fucking good, Stevie."

He laughs, ears burning. "I'm really not, Eddie. I try to write about fun gossip that can't hurt anyone too much, and nobody's found me out because they think I'm too dumb--"

Eddie reaches out then, fingers connecting softly with the edge of Steve's jaw. He can't help but lean into the touch, eyes flickering closed.

"You don't want to hurt people because you're fucking kind. You know how I know for sure? You must get submissions every week about me, and you've never once printed that I'm--" Eddie stops then, swallowing hard.

Steve's throat goes tight. He rests his hand over Eddie's, still holding his face. "Me too," he whispers. "Kind of. I like--it's both. For me."

"Oh," Eddie breathes, mouth lifting in a bright, beautiful smile that Steve can't help but return.

He's watching, sees when Eddie's gaze drifts his lips, making his breath hitch. He doesn't really think about closing the distance between them, slotting their mouths together in a tentative, gentle kiss.

"You're just full of surprises aren't you, Steve Harrington? Eddie asks when they part.

Steve blushes. "That's sort of the last of them."

"Sure. Next you'll be telling me you've played dnd."

"I have a character."

"What???"

"Human paladin. Dustin worked on it with me. Ready to get out of here?"

"Human paladin," Eddie gapes. "You know--you said--what's happening?"

Steve twines their fingers together, leading Eddie towards the auditorium exit. "Well, first we're going to walk out to my car and then we're going to my house, and we're going to look through Tattler submissions. Maybe makeout a little bit."

Eddie giggles. "What the fuck? Like. What the fuck, sweetheart?"

He turns to face Eddie, smile big and pure and bright with happiness. "If you're really nice to me, I'll let you help write this week's issue."

"Oh, oh. You're going to wreck me." Eddie mumbles, almost to himself.

"If you're lucky." Steve beams.

[luveline]

could you write plss write something about JJ’s confession and spencer is with bombshell reader and loves her entirely but she gets extremly scared and insecure??

Your usual confidence is shaken after JJ’s confession, but Spencer is emphatically in love with you. fem, 1.5k

Spencer gives you a rundown after every case. Not just as a colleague who missed it, but as his partner who he loves. This one comes out slowly. Maybe even reluctantly. 

He’s recounting the moment JJ had been forced to tell a secret. “She told me she’s always loved me, but that things are too complicated now.” 

You freeze in total bewilderment, your mug of hot tea swelling over the rim to warm your fingers. Further overwhelmed, you set it down on the coffee table. 

You’re in pyjamas on the couch. Spencer sits in sweatpants on the other end of it, his own cup of tea in hand. He’s watching you carefully. You’d felt generously comfortable only moments ago, riding the high of his continued survival, but now you’re feeling sick.. 

“She told you she loves you?”  

“That she was too scared to tell me before.” 

“And what do you think about that?” 

“I think if I never met you, I would’ve spent half of my life calling after her.” His lips quirk into one of those typical awkward Spencer smiles. “What should I think?” 

“I can't really tell you what to think, Spencer.” 

If he never met you, he’d still want JJ? Or if you weren’t in the way, he’d be with her now? Or what? 

You’ve never been the insecure type, to begin. You met Spencer when you were both rookies trying to establish themselves in the BAU, Spencer as a new member, and you as a hopeful applicant. Each time you liaised, or came around to annoy your good friend Derek Morgan, Spencer would be there, looking cute and lonely as ever. It was easy to become his friend. Easier again to fall in love with him. 

Not easy to convince him you truly wanted to be with him, but you were persistent, and… honestly, you’ve never been in love with someone like you have Spencer. That’s why JJ’s confession sends ice water down your back. 

He lets you steep for a few minutes, but ultimately can’t take the weird silence. 

“Hey,” he says, clear worry in his tone as he puts his own mug on the coffee table and moves to sit beside you, his hand falling onto your knee. “Hey, what’s that face about?” 

“What face?” you ask, schooling your expression. 

“That face.” His head tips to the side. 

“I’m not making a face.” 

“I know you…” he says, a tenderness to him as his hand slips under your leg, his fingers pressing into the softest skin behind your knee. 

“What else did she say?” 

He nods with understanding. “She said she was too scared to say it before, and that things are complicated now, I guess because everything’s changed so much.” 

“She has a family.” 

“Angel, even if she didn’t, you think that would make a difference?” He finds your hand for kissing. “What do you think I said to her? I love you. I told her I love you, she already knew that, but I told her again. I said there’s nothing complicated about it.” 

You stare at him. 

“Nothing complicated about it,” he repeats, pressing your kissed hand to his neck and covering it soundly with his own.  

You’re not expecting the insecurity of it. You and Spencer have never been on surer footing. Every day with him seems to guarantee the next. He just has to look at you and you know he’s your person, but you forgot he could just love somebody else if he wanted to. You forgot he even liked JJ to begin with. This sudden reminder is like having your legs kicked out from under you. 

You panic. 

“I love you,” he says, your hand moving down, pressed with fever to his chest. “More than anyone.” 

“I love you too… I just– I guess I thought JJ was my friend,” you say. 

“She is. She said she needed something that would shock the UnSub… I don’t think she expected anything to change. We just needed to get out of there.” 

He almost died and you’re thinking about JJ. Shit, JJ could’ve died. 

You bow your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, no, for what? For what?” He sandwiches you to his side. “I’m sorry, it’s not fair. It puts you in a bad position. But you don’t have anything to worry about, I love you, and I don’t have any feelings for JJ.” 

You wonder if that’s true. 

You’re being unlike yourself. Embarrassed, you hide your face in his collar and let him hug you gently. 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I have no idea what to do right now.” 

Insecurity isn’t your style, but it’s not something that can be helped. You have, through everything, pioneered desperately to put your best foot forward. You wear clothes ordered to fit and then tailored for good measure, you take care of your appearance in a way that others might find objectionable. Who you are outwardly is just as important to you as the inward, which makes this all the worse. You hate being out of control. 

Spencer can make it better, despite his insistence on cluelessness. “You know it could never be anyone else but you, right?” he asks softly. 

“Sorry, I’m just… I’m not angry because she didn’t have a choice, but do you really believe she didn’t mean it? She could’ve made up a hundred different lies.” 

“I think she meant it,” he says, still speaking softly. 

“You understand why that would freak me out, right? If you never met me, you could be with her.” 

“I can’t imagine a universe where we don’t meet,” he says. 

Spencer delivers it with that sincere yet shy honesty that he tends to say many things. Like it’s simple, like he’s aware of how cleanly cut it is, and like he’s worried you won’t agree with him. 

You try not to act so small, straightening your back, and sewing an arm behind his neck and over his shoulder. You’re not feeling a hundred percent just yet, and so you press your forehead to his cheek, his hair kissing your  ear. Spencer drags your leg across his thigh and lets you stew for a little while. 

“I don’t want to be with JJ.” He squeezes you closer, nearly has you in his lap. “Is that what you’re worried about? If I never met you, I wouldn’t want to be with her, because she had no interest in me, or– or maybe she did, but she didn’t show it. I know exactly what it feels like now to be loved without remorse, to– to never be told I’m too much. JJ is one of my best friends in the whole world, but you’re my heart. You’re the only person who’s ever liked me for me, all of me, even when I know it wasn’t easy.” 

“It’s always easy,” you murmur.

“That’s not the only reason I love you, but it’s important. JJ’s smart and she’s beautiful and she’s such a good mom, but she’s not you. She could never be you, and I don’t want anyone that isn’t you.” 

You don’t want him to say cruel things about JJ and you’re glad when he doesn’t, but you definitely need his assurance that he prefers you. Then you feel silly, because it’s your bed he comes home to, your hip he’s caressing as he waxes poetic for you. 

You feel less like he doesn’t love you and more like you’ve made a fool of yourself for even suggesting it. “Am I your best friend?” you ask (childishly, depending on who you ask). 

“You’re my best friend. You’re the best friend. Every day I get to be with you is perfect.” 

“That’s really romantic,” you mumble, nearly not quite kidding as you rub the tip of your nose into his cheek. 

“You bring it out of me.” 

You sigh and wrap your arms around him tightly. “Thanks, Dr. Reid. I think you fixed me.” 

“You’re still making a face.” 

“You almost died today, baby. JJ isn’t the sole thing on my mind.” 

“Almost died is an exaggeration. We almost die all the time.” 

You sniff his hair at your discretion. When he holds you like he’s doing now, you realise you have no need to worry. How can he squeeze your soft sides and chase your nose with his if he doesn’t mean what he says? Spencer’s not like that. 

“I’m sorry I overreacted,” you say. 

“I don’t think you did. But would you feel better if I say it’s okay? Because it’s okay. I’m sorry for telling you something I knew would upset you, but we don’t–”

“Have secrets, I know.” 

You give him a teeny kiss by his ear. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs pleasantly. 

You press another right on top of the first. Slower, you peel away to stroke his hair. His eyes hold all the proof you need —you’re loved without competition.