So High School (m.s)

casual~ c. sturniolo x reader

four times y/n was “okay” with “just casual” with chris, one time she told truth + one time he realized what he’d lost.

“my friends call me a loser

cause i’m still hanging around

i’ve heard so many rumors

that i’m just the girl that you bang on your couch”

“i just will never understand you guys,” one of y/n’s friends say, popping a chip in her mouth. “like, why are you sitting around waiting for chris?”

“because she’s obsessed with him, stupid.” another one interjects. they’re all sitting around y/n’s apartment, music playing from the t.v, snacks and drinks littering the table in front of them.

the four girls were waiting for the guys to finish setting up beer pong in the kitchen, and somehow it had turned into conversation about y/n’s less than conventional relationship with chris. go figure.

“i’m not obsessed with him,” she rolls her eyes. “and i’m not waiting for shit. we’re just casual, despite whatever you guys want to think.”

“right,” the third says, dragging out the ‘i’. she gives her a pointed look. “cause spending every waking moment together, sleeping at his house three times a week and looking at each other how you do screams casual.”

y/n laughs then, shaking her head. “it’s not that serious. can’t two people just enjoy each others times- and beds- without a relationship?”

“sure,” her best friend agrees. “two people can. you and chris though? i don’t buy it.”

“alright, fuck you guys.” y/n stands up from her place on the couch, throwing a pillow at one of her friends with a smile. “i’m going to check on what’s taking them so long.”

the walk to the kitchen is interesting, because honestly, it’s the first time y/n has really thought about her… whatever this thing with chris was from an outside perspective. it’d been a constantly changing few months, and she’d never stopped to think about how she felt in all of it.

sure, sometimes chris says stuff to her that has meaning underneath. sure, sometimes she calls him after a bad day because he always knows what to say. and sure, maybe the sex had gone from fun and wild to slightly intimate with eye contact that sometimes knocked the wind out of her. but that didn’t mean it had to mean anything different than what they wanted.

when she gets to the wall separating the hallway and the kitchen, she hears her name and freezes. “chris, bro, what the fuck is going on with you and y/n? i swear you guys are attached at the fucking hip.”

“basically his fucking girlfriend at this point,” matt, his brother, says and she can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

the girl in question finds herself waiting with bated breath for chris to answer. “fuck off, matt,” she imagines he flips him off. “she’s not my fucking girlfriend.”

it takes her by surprise the way it cracks her just a tiny bit. she knew he’d say it, knew that there was no revelation that would leave his lips. that was expected. what wasn’t expected, was how it made her feel. “we’re just fucking around. she’s a cool girl, but that’s about it.”

y/n thinks that bothers her even more than the previous answer. the words wedge their way into her stomach, wiggling around and filling her with a new, uncomfortable feeling. she thinks it may be disappointment, but she refuses to acknowledge it. chris finds her in the hallway before she can anyway.

“hey, we just finished setting up,” he sends her the most beautiful smile, one that her brain suddenly tells her he doesn’t mean. “i was just coming to find you.”

as soon as he’s in her space his hands are on her, snaking around her waist and pulling her in. he kisses her then, soft and sinfully slow. she throws the weird feelings into the fire and kisses him back just as deep.

when he pulls away, his eyebrows furrow slightly, and he gives her a concerned look. “you good?”

she’s surprised he can tell that something was bothering her. surprised he can read her face that well. it confuses her, which in turn brings those discomforting feelings right back. she looks at him, running her eyes all over him, taking him in. his bright blue eyes, the stubble framing his perfect jawline, the faded acne scar on his cheek. the moment is good, and she’s happy with them exactly as they are.

so, y/n runs her hands through his soft hair, placing a searing kiss on his lips. “i’m great. now let’s go. you’re about to get your ass kicked.”

she pulls him towards the kitchen as he laughs, stamping down the pesky voice in her head that tells her that something about this day will come back to haunt her.

-

“you said, “baby, no attachment.” but

we’re knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out

is it casual now?”

“fuck, chris,” y/n throws her head back, fisting her hands into chris’s scalp as his tongue works against her. the rubber band in her stomach feels like its about to snap, and she knows she can’t hold on much longer.

“so good for me, baby.” chris purrs, voice sending shocks through her core. “no one could ever know you like me. no one ever will.”

he holds her hips down as she tries to wiggle away from the feeling, her finish clawing through her. “no one.” she babbles, basically slurring from the pleasure.

“only me, ma.” his fingers are pumping unforgivingly, making her black spots appear in her vision. “say it.”

“just you, chris- jesusfuckingchrist,” her words keep sticking to each other as they basically fly from her mouth, and when he flattens his tongue on her, the rubber band explodes. “only you.”

he doesn’t stop lapping at her until she comes down from her high, and she’s a shaking mess in his front seat. he’s whispering praises to her, telling her how good she is to him, tells her how she’s never looked prettier than when she’s coming for him, and tells her he could never find anyone better than her.

when everything is said and done and chris is back in the driver’s seat, raking his hands through his hair incessantly, y/n feels an ugly feeling creeping into her gut. it’s red hot and thick, turning her cheeks warm.

she looks at chris, who’s already looking at her. “you okay? need anything?”

her heart clenches a little. because how can they be “just fucking around” when he looks at her like that?

“yeah,” she says, despite her better judgement. “just tired.”

chris nods, leaning across the middle console and plays with a stray curl. she presses her cheek into his hand, kissing it softly. the look in his eyes sends electricity through her veins.

“well, can’t have my girl unrested.” he rubs her chin between his thumb and pointer finger affectionately. “mine or yours?”

the action makes her sick with feelings. “mine.”

and it’s all she has to say before he’s pulling out of the parking lot like a man on a mission.

fuck.

-

“dumb love

i love being stupid

dream of us in a year

maybe we’d have an apartment

and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier”

the light filters through the curtains of the bedroom, causing y/n to blink her eyes open. she stretches slightly, only to find herself wrapped up in someone’s arms.

chris snores softly, lashes kissing his cheeks. his hair is everywhere, falling in pretty tendrils on the pillow. in her sleepy state, the girl reaches out, raking her hands through them.

he groans slightly, pushing his head into her hand. “that feels nice.”

she scrapes her nails in his scalp slightly, warmth filling her at his gruff voice. “good morning.”

he finally opens his eyes,which are a pretty dark blue, coated in sleep. “it is now.” the smile he gives her is blinding.

chris’s hold on her tightens. there’s no physical way for them to get any closer, but he’s trying anyway. his right hand is rubbing her back while his left sits on the swell of her ass, playing with the band of her underwear. the touches make her melt into him further.

they lay there for what seems like forever, although if you asked them, it would never be long enough. when they do finally leave the warmth of their bed, y/n is watching from the doorframe as chris brushes his teeth.

“how come you aren’t ready?” he asks through white foam, spraying it forward. he giggles at that, shrugging.

she raises an eyebrow. “ready for what?”

chris rinses his mouth, patting his face dry. “i told you that my friends from back home are here. we’re going out with them.”

“no, you said you were going out with them,” there’s confusion etched into his face as you continue. “i didn’t think that meant i was coming.”

“why the hell not?”

the surprise she feels is jarring. “you want me to meet your friends from home?”

chris gives her a look like she just shot him. he walks up to her, ducking his head down and connecting their eyes. “first of all, i want you with me literally everywhere i go.” he kisses her chastely. “second, ‘course i do. i want everyone to know you’re mine.”

it feels like the world opens up then. there’s a faint hum going through her body, like chris had single handedly brought her back to life.

the smile that paints her face is so radiant, you’d think the sun had risen right here in this room. “okay. i’ll get ready now.”

before she leaves the room, chris smacks her ass, making them both laugh. she feels the hardwood beneath her feet, feels the kisses from this morning on her skin and feels the peace all around her-

y/n’s woken up by the sound of her phone going off. she’s disoriented, wiping away the sleep with stiff hands. when she comes to fully, she’s in her bedroom, alone, with a longing that threatens to knock her right back out.

that was new. dreaming of chris like that. the way every single touch, every single kiss and every single feeling was so painfully real. it was getting self destructive now, the way that she was coming to realize her feelings, but ignoring them every time.

she picks up her phone to look at the time, 1:47 AM, and the texts that cover her screen.

chris <3

1:04 am

wyd

chris <3

1:17 am

come over

chris <3

1:32 am

need you here

there’s something different in the way she feels while reading them. there’s no excitement, no thrill or pleasure that runs up her spine. there’s nothing but a hollow pit in her stomach, making her nauseous.

her mind reminds her ruthlessly of her dream; the way he held her so tight. the way he called her his, and the way it felt to be wanted by him. she knew that this was no longer casual, the way she wanted to be next to him all the time. they way she found herself right there whenever he asked. the way her heart sped up whenever he looked at her. it felt like she was in fucking quicksand, with every time she tried to ignore and drown out her constantly growing feelings for chris, the deeper she sank.

she wants to say no. she wants to turn around and go right back to sleep. to finally admit that this is hurting her way worse than she’s made herself believe. but she’d be kidding herself to believe that there was ever a way for her to deny anything chris wanted. he might not be hers, but she damn sure was his.

was asleep. give me 15 n i’m on my way.

she tries to convince herself she’s fine the entire drive over there.

-

“two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in long beach

is it casual now?

…and i try to be the chill girl

that holds her tongue and gives you space

i try to be the chill girl

but honestly, i’m not.”

“i’m sorry?”

there’s a deafening silence in y/n’s head when the the words come out of chris’ moms mouth. like the loud buzz and click when turning off a static screen television.

she wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten into this situation. when chris brought it up to her, she was gobsmacked the exact same as now, mouth floundering helplessly.

“my parents are coming next week.” chris says from his place in front of the open fridge. he was rooting around for the last of the soda you kept in there specifically for him.

“i’m glad. i know you said you were missing them recently.” y/n is cooking dinner for the two of them, pasta, cause chris was craving it. she tries not to think of the implications of the scene.

“yeah, i was.”

he’s behind her now, looking over her shoulder at what she’s doing. “can you come over one night? i want you to meet them.”

y/n nearly chucks the pot off the stove with how quick she moves. “you want me to what?”

“holy shit.” chris backs up as she faces him. “you scared the fuck out of me.” he laughs, but she doesn’t return it. she’s just staring at him with wide eyes. something akin to hope blooms in her chest.

“why do you want me to meet your parents?”

chris looks at her like she just asked him to streak. his eyebrows are knitted together, and his eyes are searching hers. “why wouldn’t i?” he shrugs.

she thinks he can’t possibly know what he’s asking. he’s speaking about it so casually that she thinks she might explode. might crumble to the floor beneath his feet. as always.

“i dunno,” she says carefully. trying to find any indication in his face that they were more than she thought from his perspective. “i didn’t know that we were there yet is all.”

chris’ face flashes in recognition then. “ohhhh. no, no,” he laughs like she just told the most hilarious joke in the fucking world. “not like… not like that.”

the words actually make her start to lose consciousness a little. “like that?”

“yeah. not like as a girlfriend or anything.” he has no idea that he’s killing her slowly. “i meant because you’re one of my closest friends. like i know we’re doing this lowkey thing or whatever, but we’re still friends right?”

it would’ve hurt less if he shot her at point blank range.

she nods then, forcing herself to smile. the hope has been smothered just as quick as it started to grow. “yeah, of course. i’d love to.”

he kisses her sweetly before asking if she needs any help cooking for the sixth time today. she says no, and he tells her he’d be in her living room watching TV until she’s done.

it’s only when he left the room did she let herself fall apart.

she feels eerily similar to that moment right now. confused and slightly afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“i said, we’re going on vacation soon and we would love it if you came!” his mom repeats, her smile full and unwavering. “chris never shuts up about you, and you’ve been an absolutely light to be around tonight. we’d love to have you.”

“mom—“, chris groans from next to her in the couch, cheeks turning pink. matt and nick are laughing at him. “quit it. you’re scaring her.”

he didn’t protest. he didn’t shut it down. what the fuck does that mean?

“i wouldn’t want to impose—“ y/n starts, stuttering slightly. her palms are sweating and she feels nervousness pooling in her stomach.

“as if,” nick says. “it would be even better with you there.” matt silently agrees, nodding his head.

she has no idea what to do and chris is looking at her with the most indescribable look she’s ever seen in her god damn life. so she relents. “i’d love to. let me just make sure i’m free.”

his mom’s smile only grows, mirroring chris completely. she turns to nick to talk about something after it’s decided, and y/n’s head is left reeling. chris leans into her ear.

“you don’t have to go, you know.” he says. slowly, she turns her head to him. their faces are close, and she searches his eyes for anything to make her feel better.

“do you want me to?”

his answer is immediate. “of course.”

she knows the next question is heavy, for her at least, so she plasters a small smirk on her lips, raising her eyebrows. “catching feelings, christopher?”

he chuckles, tightening his arm around her shoulders. she envies his ability to go with the flow. to take things as they are. she can’t.

“you wish.”

it shatters her then, but she nuzzles further down into his side anyway. she laughs at the jokes the boys make, the stories his parents tell and the embarrassed blush on chris’s’ neck.

she asks questions when she should, nods and smiles at him when he looks at her. she does it all. for the rest of the night, she acts just like she should, plays her role as the nonchalant, down for whatever friends-with-benefits/situationship/casual relationship girl.

in reality though, she can tell it’s time. can tell by the way her heart constricts when he laughs. by the way she never wants to be away from him. by the way the thought of him wanting her to be so involved in his life is something she craves so bad. she loves him, and its hurting her.

it’s no longer casual, and it’s time to accept it.

-

“i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself

hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell.”

“chris?” y/n walks out the bathroom in one of his shirts and her underwear, towel drying her hair. the boy in question looks up from his phone. “have you seen my red bra with the lace trim?”

he raises his eyebrow. “i thought you had on a black one tonight?”

she rolls her eyes, throwing the towel into the laundry basket. “yes, christopher, i did. but you know the red one’s my favorite and i haven’t seen it in a while.”

he shrugs, pointing at his dresser. “oh yeah. you left it here when you were over here, one time. it’s in the dresser.”

for some reason, the words hit her like a freight train. she pauses, completely unknown to chris who’s still very much into his phone. when she gets to the dresser, she opens it, and sure enough, there it is.

something about it makes hysteria build in her body. she feels like screaming, feels like sinking into the ground to never be seen again. everything inside her that had been simmering inside her the last five months had finally bubbled over. she couldn’t take it anymore.

“what i am to you, chris?”

she didn’t mean for it to come out, but she’s glad it did. glad that she was finally done denying herself the truth that she rightfully deserved.

his head snaps to hers instantly, eyes wide. “what?”

“you heard me,” y/n walks to her bag that’s sitting on his desk chair. she shoves her legs through her shorts, standing straight and looking chris dead in the eye. “what the fuck are we doing here?”

for a moment, there’s nothing. she can tell the cogs in his head are moving a hundred miles an hour by the way his eyes are scanning her face. “we’re what we’ve always been. we’re hanging out. we’re friends.”

“friends,” she mutters bitterly. “right.”

chris sits up finally, turning his entire body towards her. his phone is tossed and forgotten. “where the hell is this coming from?”

“you just had me meet your fucking parents.” she says slowly, enunciating every word. “they fucking invited on vacation with your family,” the room is spinning for her. running past her in a flurry of color and heartbreak, “you keep my favorite fucking bra in your dresser, and you expect me to be okay with “we’re friends?””

chris can tell that something is wrong. sure anyone with functioning social awareness could tell, but he knows something is really, really wrong.

he stands, rounding the bed, coming face to face with her. he reaches out to touch her, and it’s the first time in the history of their entanglement that she steps away. the hurt on his face is palpable. but for once, y/n doesn’t care about how chris feels. or what chris wants.

“come here.” he says.

“no,” she shakes her head. she looks at him then, really looks. slides her eyes over the fluffiness of his drying hair, straight out the shower. the way his eyes sink in just a bit, contrasting with the bright blue they usually possess. the way his nose slopes and perfectly frames his face. the way his mouth, which has been so good to her, naturally leans upward and to the right, always faintly smirking. she takes in everything about him, snapping a photo in her mind so she can remember it after this moment.

y/n takes a deep breath. one she’s needed for a while. “i’m done with this.”

“what are you talking about?” she tries to convince herself it isn’t panic she hears. “stop being ridiculous and talk to me.”

“i am talking, chris. you’re just choosing not to listen.”

she walks to her bag, grabbing the things that she can see are hers. she spots her tank top on the ground, snatching it up and turning her back to chris quickly, stripping off her- his shirt. she thrusts it into his chest.

“i can’t pretend to be okay with this anymore. i tried, i really did. but it hurts. and i refuse to keep ignoring what i need to be what you do.”

the words smack chris right in the center of his forehead, the way it seems. that look, the one she can never fucking figure out, is right back on his face. it’s not her problem anymore.

he can’t think of anything to say. he’s terrified, but he doesn’t know how to fix this. so what comes out is, “you said you were okay with this. that this is what you wanted.”

y/n’s movements cease and she stares at him. they may be right in front of each other, yet there’s nothing between them but space.

“i was,” she admits. “but now i’m not. so i need you to look me in face right now and tell me what you want. cause i can’t do casual anymore, chris.”

when he doesn’t speak, her words fill the space. “i can’t wake up in your bed five nights of the week with you wrapped around me and call it casual. can’t hear you call me ‘your girl’ and pretend that when we fuck it’s casual. you can’t continuously treat me like your world and then back out when i expect it from you.”

she wishes he would say something, anything. instead, he stands in front of her, desperation haunting his features. she wants to give in, to tell him it’s okay. but she can’t. she won’t.

“i can’t give you a relationship, if that’s what you’re saying.” he runs his hair through his hair. he looks about as stressed as she feels. “i like you, but i’m not ready for that.”

y/n scoffs. it feels like a severed connection. like he just cut the tether between them with a hacksaw. “you can, but you won’t.” she smiles sadly, “and that’s okay. i don’t want you to do something that makes you unhappy.”

she walks to him then, gently placing her hand on his cheek. despite the cavity that’s being carved in place of her heart, she loves him. “i hope, on that at least, you feel the same.”

there’s really nothing else she needs to say, and she doesn’t really think there’s much else she can stomach to hear. so she removes herself from his space, and begins to try to remove him from hers.

he doesn’t try to stop her as she leaves. she doesn’t expect him to. she thinks that tells her everything.

-

y/n groans as she pulls into her unofficial, official parking spot in front of her apartment complex after work. her entire body aches, and she can’t wait to collapse in her bed.

her phone pings loudly, making her jump. she has that momentary adrenaline rush that she always does when she hears it, even after nearly a month. she wouldn’t say she was holding on to hope that he would text her, but the thought still lives in the back of her head.

it dies as quickly as it always does when she checks, though. her mom had sent her a link to some new recipe she wanted to try. she doesn’t even have the energy to heart the message.

she grabs her bag, trudging up the insane amount of stairs, grumbling about how she can’t wait for her lease to be up. it’s only when she turns the corner to the hallway leading to her apartment that she stops dead in her fucking tracks, body going numb.

there, in all his unfortunately sexy glory, is chris. he’s sitting on the ground outside her door, arms hanging off his knees. through the darkness, y/n can see her favorite jacket, a dark blue and white flannel type, and black, loose jeans hanging off his slouched frame.

she has no idea how long she stands there, unmoving and not uttering a word, but eventually, chris looks up.

he basically jumps up, straightening his clothes. “hi.”

she pushes her feet to move, but they don’t. “hi?”

chris scratches the back of his neck nervously. “sorry to just show up like this- fuck this is probably weird, right?- i just-“ he sucks in a breath. “i wanted to talk to you.”

“oh.” she says dumbly, eyes still wide. “yeah. okay.”

neither of them know what to say, or what to do. they’re just standing ten feet apart, staring like they’ve both seen a ghost. it’s only when y/n’s neighbor comes out of their apartment and she has to get out of the way does she move.

her feet carry her in autopilot, mind blank as she walks to her door. she’s so acutely aware of chris behind her as she opens it. it’s a funny thing, falling in love with someone. your body never forgets how they made you feel. she feels like chris must have a magnet underneath his clothes, the way she’s being pulled towards him.

once they’re inside and the lights are on, she sets her stuff down on the dining room table. she takes in a deep breath, steeling her heart before turning to him.

“so what’s up-“

“i miss you.”

they speak at the same time, but chris doesn’t falter when she gapes at him. “i’m sorry for being a fucking idiot. i’m sorry for hurting you.”

there’s not enough time for her to process anything before he’s walking towards her, slowly, like she might disappear if he makes a sudden move.

“what the fuck?”

it makes him smile slightly. he looks down for a second before closing the remaining space between them. he’s right in front of her now, and feels every hair on her body raise. his eyes are so honest, so open that it kind of takes her breath away. there’s a tiredness to him. like he hadn’t been sleeping well. his eye bags are deeper than before, eyes a little more sunken in. his facial hair is more grown out than she’s ever seen it, pronounced five o’clock shadow that makes him look well beyond his years.

“i always wanted more. i think i was just being a pussy. do you remember when i asked you to meet my parents?” she nods. how could she forget? “that night, i’d been watching you in the kitchen, dancing around and cooking. asking me to try the sauce every time you added something. kicking me out when i got too close or when i asked you if you wanted help again.”

he chuckles, like he’s thinking about his favorite memory. “i was looking at you and i knew that i was in love with you. it hit me like a fucking bus. so i asked you to meet my parents.”

y/n physically can’t do anything but stare at him like he’s telling her the secrets universe.

“when you said you “didn’t think we were there yet”…” he trails off, pink tinting his cheeks. “well, it scared the shit out of me. for so many reasons. i thought that meant you didn’t feel the same. then i got scared because i thought i was falling for you and this was still something you could replace.”

she doesn’t know what to say at the confession. doesn’t know how to feel either. it seemed beyond her comprehension that there was ever a time, during their entire relationship, that chris thought his feelings were unrequited.

“why the fuck didn’t you say something when i left that night?” she says incredulously. “you let me walk out of your house thinking you didn’t feel the same. do you know how bad that hurt?”

chris cringes at the reminder. “i know, and i’m so fucking sorry. i’ve replayed that night over in my head literally a million times wishing i could change it.” when he knows she won’t back away, he puts a hand on the space between her cheek and neck. “i do feel the same way, y/n. i always have. i’m sorry i was too chicken shit to tell you. and i’m sorry that you ever felt like you had to keep hurting yourself to make me happy.”

y/n feels her resolve slipping. looking at chris, standing in her apartment after a month of missing him, of wishing he would do exactly what he’s doing now has her heart beating a thousand miles an hour. that pesky little hope fly, the one she’d thought she squished and smothered rears its ugly head again.

above all though, she’s cautious. her heart is still tender from the break it took, and she can’t do that again. she gives him a lost look, like despite all he said, she’s still missing something.

he gets closer, lips a hair away. “ask me again.”

“ask you what?”

“what you asked me that night.” he snakes a hand up her hips to her waist. it’s searing, leaving fire in its trace. “ask me again.”

she thinks back, when she realizes, her eyes soften. “what am i to you, chris?” her voice is nothing but a whisper, scared to burst the bubble around them. the moment is so sensitive and soft, the juxtaposition of the original harshness of the question definitely not lost on her.

“you’re everything to me. you’ve been my girlfriend since probably the third week we started this thing,” her breath hitches. “you’re someone i never want to lose again.”

and when he kisses her, cause he just knows, y/n feels herself exhale. feels the pieces of her heart click back in place. it’s like find a lost puzzle piece under a couch cushion. like the first sip of ice cold water on a scorching day.

she grabs on to him tightly, losing herself in it completely. his lips chase her every way she moves, not standing to be disconnected. it’s messy and beautiful and right. it’s all the miscommunication, fear of the unknown and doubt circling down the metaphorical drain.

she pulls away to speak, but chris doesn’t let her up. she gives him one, two, three kisses back to back before she turns her head, laughing relentlessly. “chris!”

he doesn’t stop smothering her, placing his lips on the corner of her mouth, her neck, her cheek— everywhere he can reach.

“it’s been so long. you can’t expect me to not want you close, baby.”

her heart swells ten times in size, filling her ribcage beautifully. she grabs his face in her hands, raising a stern eyebrow. “i have to say something.” chris pouts slightly, and because she’s waited so long for this, and he’s looking at her like he could never live a second without her, she places one more lingering kiss to his full lips.

“i love you, too, by the way.”

the way his face lights up has even the brightest star withering in envy. he wraps his arms all the way around her body, pulling her impossibly closer.

who knows how long they stay there, heart to heart, finally, finally exactly where they should’ve been all along.

and when they lay close in y/n’s bed that night, skin to skin and deliriously happy, they both have the same thought.

fuck casual.

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a/n: jesus fuck this shit took me FOREVER. i hope yall like it cause i spent so long tweaking it and rewriting some parts cause i wanted it to be perfect. this song also is embedded in my bones and i’m obsessed with it so bad. how we feeling cherrie nation!!!

also yes before y’all start… number neighbor!ten will be up with in the hour!! i wanted to post a bunch cause i’ve been working so fucking much and finally had a real day off. back at it tomorrow doe </3

anyways love yall so bad i hope u like it 🥹

✯INTRODUCING.....✯

MUWAP WEEK

As a thank you for 1k followers, I want to do something called Muwap week. Basically, all of next week I’m going to post a fic! There’s no specific time, but I’m hoping I can keep up with it! Below will be the titles of the fics, the summary( besides malevolent), and two lines from the fics!

✯

Kill bill: y/n can’t bare to see Matt with someone who isn’t her. It becomes fatal.

“I tried… I really did. But you made it so hard…”

“Put it down, it doesn’t have to be like this!”

Ex for a reason: y/n realizes that Chris still has feeling for dessi despite being in a relationship with him for two years.

“I love you…”

“No you don’t. You love the fact that I look like her!”

Best friends brother: Nick has a crush on his bestfriends brother and doesn’t know how to tell her.

“How would you feel if I slept with Chris or Matt!?”

“I might be grossed out but if you were happy I can’t do anything about it.”

Malevolent: Turns out I'm living in a horror film Where I'm both the killer and the final girl. So who, who are you?

“I’m your bestfriend! You know I would never do anything like that!”

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Make it up to me then.”

Freshlove for the fit: a live stream that turned bittersweet

“You want to watch?”

“You’ll let me?”

✯

AHHHHHH IM SO EXCITEDDD!!! I HOPE YALL LOVE EACH FIC!! COMMENT WHICH ONE YALL ARE EXCITED FOR!!!

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐁𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 | 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘— Sam, Kat, Colby and you are on the way back from an investigation

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒— paranormal stuff, playful fighting,

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆— Colby Brock x fem!reader

You were currently driving home from a haunted location. Colby was driving as Sam sat in the passenger seat next to him filming ever second of this trip.

You and Kat sat in the backseat together. She sat behind Sam while you sat behind Colby. Normally you wouldn’t sit on the right side of the car because the seatbelt was in an uncomfortable position on that side, but she insisted on sitting behind her boyfriend, so you just nodded.

You guys were still fighting over what you heard and saw in the hotel. Multiple grunts were heard and heavy footsteps reaching the outside door of the hotel were picked up by the camera. There were also a few droplets of blood along the way out of the hotel, which didn’t particularly put you at ease.

Now you were all safe and sound in the car driving back home to your cozy house. “I’m pretty sure it was a ghost”, Sam spoke up filming himself which made you chuckle.

The blond turned the camera to your face and you raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s not”, you smirked at him seeing Colby glancing at you through the mirror out of your peripheral vision.

“Oh really?”, Colby smirked at you through the mirror before turning his gaze back upon the street. “Why’s that?”, Sam asked curiously smirking as well as Colby did before. He thought he knew the answer. Boy was he wrong.

“Ghosts don’t bleed”, you simply shrugged in response glancing back out the window after seeing Sam turn the camera back to set up on the dashboard.

“You know brother”, Colby turns briefly to look at Sam who glanced back. “She’s got a point there”, he admitted truthfully sending a smile your way which you returned.

“Whatever, Mr and Mrs smarty pans”, Sam huffed grumpily crossing his arms over his chest like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

“I didn’t know you two were married”, Kat exclaimed giggling which seemed to lighten her boyfriends mood. You head snapped towards her.

She played along with Sam even though you two were probably right about the whole ghost not ghost thing at the hotel.

“We’re not married and we’re not going to!”, both you and Colby exclaimed in unison before glancing at each other with a slight glare.

You huffed. “Hey! I’m pretty hot and adorable”, you crossed your arms over you chest speaking to Colby as he had just said he wouldn’t marry you.

“And I’m handsome and funny, so why won’t you marry me?”, he asked in return frowning slightly glancing back at the street.

“Same question goes for you!”, you answered frowning at him and his stupid behaviour. You heard Kat chuckle from beside you while she glanced between you two every so often.

“I asked first”, Colby argued with you shaking his head and refusing to answer the question himself as he demanded an answer from you first.

“And I asked second!”, you argued back smirking as you saw him scoff in annoyance rolling his eyes at you through the mirror.

Sam sighed while Kat began speaking in a hushed tone towards her boyfriend. “See what I mean? They are made for each other”, she whispered to him and he nodded slightly.

“You two even fight like an old married couple!”, Kat said louder for you both to hear which made both you and Colby roll your eyes playfully at her.

Source: Defence for children international - Palestine.

Israeli occupation forces unleashed a military attack dog on a four-year-old Palestinian boy in the northern occupied West Bank this week.

The incident occurred during an arrest operation in Balata refugee camp near Nablus on February 4. The dog was unleashed into the Hashash family apartment, attacking 4-year-old Ibrahim Hashash after knocking him from his mother’s arms.

The dog tore his clothes and bit him repeatedly, causing profuse bleeding for about three minutes until Israeli forces intervened.

Ibrahim has been taken to Rafidia Hospital in Nablus, where he’s expected to receive plastic surgery to repair his injuries.

“Israeli forces routinely show complete disregard, and often contempt, for Palestinian children’s lives and safety. In a hyper-militarized environment where systemic impunity is the norm, kids like Ibrahim will increasingly be targets,” said Ayed Abu Eqtaish, accountability program director at DCIP.

Israeli forces systematically use military dogs to attack Palestinian civilians, including children, during military incursions into Palestinian cities and towns.

I just want to add, what could a child seriously do to the heavily armed soldiers in the West bank?? They're just doing this to fulfill sick and twisted fantasies and horrors.

We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend

You and Spencer have convinced yourselves that you’re only meant to be friends despite the strong tension between you two. It only seems to intensify the longer you ignore it, eventually reaching its boiling point and forcing changes in the friendship.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

(but no mentions of pronouns in this so it can be read as gn)

DISCLAIMER This story is SFW but it’s intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING Mentions of: Indirect peer pressure, alcohol/drinking/being drunk, very slight implicated SA (it doesn’t happen), serial killer, kidnapping, torture, murder, stalking, and threats. It’s all barely there and doesn’t really matter to the story tbh. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 9.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Being in love is hard. Being in love with your best friend is harder. It’s a merciless form of torture really, devoting yourself entirely to the person you hold dearest to your heart, but they aren’t yours. It was almost masochistic, standing by to serve him in whatever way you thought he needed. Luckily, you weren’t a masochist. 

Not entirely, at least. 

You were there for him when he needed, offering whatever you had to give, but there were parts of you that you kept guarded. To protect yourself, but more importantly, to protect Spencer. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hear that you were ‘too much’ from passing lovers in your life. A certain level of detachment was necessary to ensure the safety of Spencer’s friendship. He was the most important person in your life. 

Maybe it was the multitude of degrees as a result of his intelligence. He never let you feel stupid or any less intelligent. 

Maybe it was the way his whole body lit up when he shared information he’d stored in that beautiful mind.

Maybe it was the charm in how goofily he carried himself. The way his hands would flail around when he spoke to keep up with the speed his brain moved at. 

Or maybe it was how he made you feel seen. 

How he always knew what to say, what to do. How he remembered little details about you, like how you preferred the window seat on the jet. And how he went out of his way to accommodate the details, like giving up the window seat just so you could sit in it. He was an unusually thoughtful man, with everybody he knew. 

That’s something you had to remind yourself of often. 

He’s like that with everybody. He has an eidetic memory, of course he remembers the little details. 

If only you knew how wrong you were. Spencer was a thoughtful man, there was no doubt about that. Sure he was gifted with an arguably incomparable memory, but unlike all the things he had no choice in remembering, he chose to remember the little details about you. To him you were the closest thing to a real life angel. 

It was the way you were the only person he’d ever met, willing to sit there and listen to him talk for hours. You’d go out of your way to show interest in the things he’d share, even if you didn’t actually have any interest in it.

The way he could swear he saw stars in your eyes whenever he stole an opportunity to stare into them. They would burn brighter if accompanied with the sweet sound of your laughter. 

He felt compelled to accommodate you. Especially when you light up the way you do from such minuscule actions on his part. Spencer loved being the person to bring out your smile, taking any excuse to try and coax one out of you. Even if he’d slightly inconvenience himself at times. His convenience mattered little to him because he knew how much you did for him too. 

Every morning before work you’d make the trip to his favourite coffee shop, getting him scones and coffee exactly to his liking because you knew he had a tendency to skip breakfast. His favourite coffee shop was a fifteen minute drive from your apartment and an extra twenty from Headquarters. You went out of your way to deliver it to him, even reheating the coffee yourself before handing it over. 

Spencer wasn’t alone in recognising your generosity. The entire sixth floor had noticed how both of you subconsciously performed acts of service for each other, even if nobody had brought it up to your faces. 

“I know that look.” Rossi remarks, turning his head towards his raven haired co-worker, eyes on you and Spencer.

“Yea..I just wonder if they know.” Emily mirrors his actions as she gives her own comment on the sight just a few feet in front of her. 

Neither of you realise you have spectators observing your conversation. You’re in your own little bubble at Spencer’s desk, the resident genius seated comfortably with his gaze on you as he speaks. Your focus is entirely on the man across from you, leaning in slightly, perched on the wooden surface. 

“Because stomach acid in the human body is typically 1-2 on the PH scale, it’s capable of dissolving metals such as certain types of stainless steels. Razors for example! The Gastrointestinal Endoscopy journal shared that scientists found that the thickened back of a single-edged blade dissolved just two hours of immersion in stomach acid!” His voice went up a pitch as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile.

“So theoretically, an unsub could use a razor blade as a murder weapon and potentially eat it to dispose of it?” It was a relatively dumb question, but you just wanted to keep him talking. 

“Well, it’s possible, but realistically I don’t think a razor blade-” 

“Sorry to interrupt my younglings,” A colourful Garcia appears in your bubble and cuts Spencer off, “but I am here to let you know that the team will be going out for drinks, on Rossi, tonight! No exceptions!!”

When your head swivels to Garcia, you also notice the gawking pair not far behind her, shuffling off when they realise they’ve been caught staring. 

“I’ll come, but I won’t be drinking.” Spencer says with an awkward smile. They shift their sights on you for your response. 

“Sorry guys…I already have plans for tonight.” You purse your lips together apologetically. 

“What no! No, no, no! You know how rare these nights can be!” Garcia frowns and grabs your shoulders pleadingly.

“I knowwww…I’m sorry!!”

“Fine, fine, but at least share what’s keeping you busy tonight?” The blonde pokes.

You shift your eyes to Spencer, who’s just staring at you with a curious look and then back to Garcia. 

“Well I have a date-” You begin, but are interrupted by a whispered squeal.

Garcia begins a response, but stops herself when she spots a nonchalant Derek Morgan heading towards the elevators. “We will discuss this in detail during Saturday’s girls night. For now I will accept your excuse and remind you to dress your sexiest! Now excuse me while I go and intercept my sweet chocolate thunder.”

She grips you in a tight hug and scurries off after Morgan. The atmosphere shifts slightly, as you meet Spencer’s eyes awkwardly. 

“You have a date? Why didn’t you mention that” Spencer titters.

“I’m sorry, it just didn’t occur to me.” You try to lie, but Spencer’s expression gives away that he doesn’t believe you. “Okay, okay, I just didn’t wanna say anything because the last time I talked about one of my dates you got all weird and I didn’t want to upset you again.”

“Upset me? I was not upset.” He protests and folds his arms across his chest. 

“Okay what would you call it then?” 

“I wouldn’t call it anything.” 

“Oh really? So you’re not upset that I’m going on a date?”

“Nope. Not at all. I’m interested actually, tell me about him.”

You eye him carefully, trying to figure out where his head is at. Spencer has a tendency to get sassy when he feels defensive. 

“You’re interested? To hear about one of my dates?” You question with playful caution. 

“Yes. I’m always interested in things about you.” He spills. 

Your reaction to his words is immediate, a surprised jump in your features, but you manage to mask it almost just as fast. Spencer’s just as surprised as you. 

“I-I just mean- you know? Because yo-you’re my best friend.” He tries to play it off. 

There’s no way. 

You think to yourself. Spencer definitely didn’t mean it in that way. 

No he definitely didn’t. He just said so himself. You’re his best friend. Spencer Reid does not feel the same way about you.

It stings to admit to yourself, but it’s for the best. Spencer is a smart, handsome, wonderful man with so much to offer. You’re too much work, come with too much baggage, just too much.

“Yea, we’re best friends.” An affirmation more for yourself than him. 

A silence looms as you stare at each other stiffly. 

“Anyways, my date,” you decide not to linger on it for too long, “it’s with that guy I told you about, Nathan.”

“Nathan? Didn’t you go on a date with him last time?” A casual inquiry. 

“Yea!” You squeak enthusiastically, grateful that he had reverted back to his light-hearted self. 

This was something you deeply enjoyed about your friendship. The fact the two of you could flow back into casual conversation no matter what.

“So it’s a second date?”

“Yes! The first one went really well, so I thought why not agree to a second when he asked?”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” 

His approval should feel better than it does. For some reason, it makes you uneasy. Almost as if you don’t want him to approve. 

He has approved though, meaning he isn’t against you dating other people. He doesn’t want you the same way.

“Really?” You want to be sure, scared that you might put him off again.

“Yes! Really! If you’re happy then I’m happy for you.” A fib that you were unaware of. 

In truth, Spencer would rather crawl on the office bathroom floor than see you with some other guy. Fortunately for him, he isn’t actually going to be there to see you with this ‘Nathan’. So he doesn’t need to submit to such an awful torture. Maybe he’s being dramatic, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no right to feel such a heavy drop in his gut. 

Part of him really is happy for you. He wanted you to feel loved, even if it wasn’t by him. God, how he wished it was by him. If friendship is what he has to settle for to be near you, then so be it. Though at times it feels like it might kill him, you being the closest person in his life, but not close enough to the point where he could call himself yours. 

“REID!”

Spencer jumps at the sound of Morgan’s voice, finding it difficult to focus on his current surroundings. He missed half the team scattering around to different parts of the bar, Morgan now his only company. 

“What’s up?” His expression shifts to a tight-lipped smile.

“Where’s your head at man?” Derek probes.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean I have never seen you this zoned out before. You haven’t checked back in since you sat down.” 

It wasn’t intentional, but since you walked out the doors of the BAU all Spencer’s been able to think about was your date. You probably went straight home to get ready, pulling out all the stops to feel as beautiful as you are. For somebody that can never truly appreciate it, not like he can. 

“I guess I’m just not feeling well.” A pathetic excuse. One Spencer finds himself making whenever he’s pulled out of his thoughts about you. 

Morgan doesn’t believe him. Hell, Spencer doesn’t even believe himself. 

“Kid. You know you can always talk to me right? About anything.” 

“I know. I’m really just tired. Actually- you know what, c-could- could you just tell the others that I’m just not feeling great, I’m- bye Derek.” Spencer stutters as he rushes out of his seat. 

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to respond as he makes his exit out of the bar. He’s lacking the capability to force himself to socialise. The knowledge of you on a date with another man was something he’s been able to handle, but a second date with a man was harder to stomach. You must like him if you’re willing to see him again. 

The ride home feels longer than it actually is. How far had the date gotten? Were you enjoying it? Did Nathan make you laugh the way he could? Spencer might lose his mind. He wondered if you had given Nathan the privilege of touching you. Your skin always looked so soft, his heart panged at the thought. He felt sick. 

You were his best friend. You trusted him. He shouldn’t think this way about you, feel this way about you. Unreciprocated feelings were something Spencer was entirely used to. He’d perfected being able to put the person at the receiving end of his affections in the back of his mind. To ignore until it went away entirely.

Why was it so much harder this time? There is no universe in which you would ever return his love for you. Which is why he needs to force himself to love you from afar. It was a fact Spencer reminded himself of repeatedly. And he would’ve kept at it, if he wasn’t interrupted by the sight of you standing in front of his door as he stepped up his apartment stairs. 

“Hi!” His voice alerts you softly.

“Hi!” You squeak back, turning on your heel to face him. 

He can’t help but note how heavenly you look. It almost knocked the air out of his lungs, except he noticed the poorly wiped tears glistening on your face. He didn’t ask about it, immediately. Instead he just pulled you in for a hug, something he rarely did with others, and unlocked his door as he motioned for you to enter first. Another thing to love about Spencer Reid. 

You step inside, more than familiar with the deep green walls surrounding you. If the stench of liquor wasn’t enough, then the way you stumbled on your way to his couch was all Spencer needed to deduce that you had been drinking. A lot. He walks past you towards his kitchen, returning with a glass of water and painkillers you would definitely need later. 

“Have you eaten?” He asks softly, handing you the glass of water. 

“Um..” you take a sip and pause as you sigh, “yeah.”

The two of you just sit there, silently, stealing small glances at each other and averting your gazes before the other can notice. You know he’s waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to speak first. Except you don’t know what to say. You feel so embarrassed. He probably had better plans for tonight, but here you are, pestering him again. 

“How long were you waiting?” He speaks up once he realises that you aren’t going to.

“Not long, I had actually just gotten there, your timing was really good.” You mumble, forcing an awkward chuckle. 

“Did Nathan drop you off?” Spencer hopes that bringing up your date might give you enough courage to vent. 

“No. No, I walked.” A resigned smile creeps on your face, not wanting to talk about your journey here. “How was your night?”

“Walked?? Alone?? Drunk??” The words seep out of him before he can hold his tongue. “Why didn’t you call me?!”

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to bother you!” You defend. 

But you are bothering him. You’re bothering him right now.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back tears. Guilt creeps inside him. He knows that he’s not the source of your tears, but he didn’t want to make you cry regardless. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he takes hold of your hand and squeezes ever so gently, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Why don’t we play chess? You’re getting better at it, you know?” He adds, thinking of a quick distraction. 

Chess was a favourite pastime of yours with Spencer. You pull your hand out of his grip and use it to rub the opposing arm, his touch overwhelming you. He was too soft with you. You suppose it’s why you seek him out so often. Out of all the men you’ve ever known, Spencer was the only one who knew you. It felt so nice to be known. 

“Y-yea..yes. Please. Let’s uh- let’s play chess.” You stumble on your words, eager to think about anything else. 

Spencer retrieves his mini chess board from his satchel and prepares the board between the two of you. Neither of you utter a word as you play your moves. You appreciate the silence, because you know that you can’t say or do the wrong thing. 

“You’re going easy on me.” You break the silence anyway, scared that the silence might bore him. 

“You’re holding back.” He argues and you finally meet his eyes for the first time since you started the game.

“No, I’m just drunk.” You counter.

“I was the one at a bar but you’re the one who’s drunk.” It’s a stupid comment, slightly cringy even, but he earns a genuine laugh out of you. 

His dorkiness was part of his charm. Your laughter makes him smile. A comfortable silence fills the atmosphere as your eyes meet again. Spencer’s eyes were so beautiful, you could drown in them. Spencer in general was so beautiful, in every way possible. 

“It’s your move.” He has to remind you, worried that if he’s allowed to look at you for two long he might do something really stupid.

“I-uhm- I had a shitty date.” You owe him an explanation for ruining his night.

He doesn’t respond, not wanting to say anything that might make you close up again. He wanted to be the person you talked to about your problems. He wanted to be your solace. 

“It started really well. I thought I could see something more, but it turns out he just wanted the same thing as all the others. Thought that maybe if he got me drunk enough..but it obviously didn’t work” You try to lighten the weight of your words by laughing with them. “It’s probably for the best, you know? I don’t think it would’ve worked out regardless, I couldn’t stop-”

Stop comparing him to you. 

Normally, Spencer is the one with the tendency to ramble, but the alcohol wasn’t making it easy for you to shut up. You just hope he doesn’t realise where you were headed with that statement. You kept comparing your date to Spencer. Everything Nathan did today was a direct reminder of things Spencer would never do. 

“Check.” You choose to stop making a fool of yourself there.

Spencer’s breath hitches. Not because he picked up on what you hoped he didn’t, rather because he was concerned by the possible implications of what you said.

“Did he..did he try to-” 

“No. Oh my God, no!” You cut him off before he can finish the thought. 

His shoulders relax and the silence resumes. For the first time since he met you, Spencer found himself speechless. He didn’t know whether to comfort you or give you advice. Part of him felt selfishly relieved, at least he didn’t have to worry about some other guy anymore. The other part, the part that felt disgusted with himself for even thinking about himself right now, felt a mixed range of hurt for you. 

It started with resentment for the negligence Nathan displayed with you and ended with sorrow for how easily you brushed off your hurt. While he ran all the possibilities of the best thing to say, you ran all the possibilities of leaving his apartment in the least inconvenient way for him, interpreting his silence as irritation. 

He should be irritated, you’re disrupting his night. 

You need to leave before he can tell you to. Just as you’re about to mutter some bull-shit excuse, Spencer gently cups your hand with both of his hands and locks eyes with you. His voice is so painstakingly gentle, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Nathan and anyone else who has ever allowed themselves to be blinded by their shallow urges is an absolute fool. Idiot. Moron. There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how stupid they are for missing out on knowing you as you are. I’ve experienced a lot of good things in my life, none have ever brought me as much joy as you do. I can’t even begin to explain how deserving you are of love and it’s heartbreaking to see that you’ve convinced yourself of the opposite.”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Of the list of things you didn’t expect, this wasn’t even on the list. You should have expected it. It was in Spencer’s nature to prove you wrong for underestimating his tenderness. He felt perhaps he went too far. Said too much.

“I-I just mean-” 

“Why are you so nice to me?” Your heart feels like it’s lacking space inside your chest, tears threaten to build. 

“Because you’re my f-friend.” He struggles to utter the last word.

“Friend..” You nervously laugh.

The meaning behind his words don’t register in your drunken state. All your focus is diverted to the feeling of his calloused skin on yours. The liquor in your veins awakens dazed boldness. One you’d be too wary of displaying otherwise. You allow your fingers to dance against his, an act of intimacy not reserved for friends. He doesn’t stop you either. 

“You know…” 

it’s almost not even a whisper, 

“...if I wasn’t who I am…” 

but Spencer was an expert in tuning out everything else to focus solely on your voice,

“...maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

And the world, as Spencer knows it, stops. Your words ring in his ears and he’s sure his heartbeat has become audible. 

“Y-you love me?” He repeats, unable to suppress his need to hear those words again.

The validity of your confession doesn’t bear any weight until you hear it from him, your motions against his hand coming to an immediate stop. You shift line of sight to his face faster than you can blink, waiting for his reaction so you can scramble to save your friendship. 

Parroting your words wasn’t enough, Spencer couldn’t believe it. He had never considered it feasible for you to love him. He had spent so many sleepless nights tormenting himself over the fact. He wanted so badly to cup your face and tell you about all the thoughts of you that consumed his mind. To say those three words back. 

“You can’t love me.” Instead he said four words that strained your hope for salvation. He’d shoot himself if he had any realisation of what he had just done. 

“No, of-of c-course, I meant like an- a- amazing fr-friend. You k-know, like the kind of bes-best friend you only mean once in your lif-life.” And you unknowingly shattered that hope in him. 

Silence has never been more deafening. Neither of you can look away from each other. There’s so much to say but how can it be said now? 

“Right. No, yeah. Of course.” He forces out. 

A fake understanding between you two. The expressions canvassing both of your faces display anything but understanding. Though you’re no longer physically touching, you’re still holding each other in your view. A few moments pass and Spencer is the first to look away. 

“You must be tired-” He starts.

You were still disrupting his space.

“Right, I’ll go-” You stand, ready to rush out the door.

“No-no.” He sighs. “Stay please. It’s late and you’re drunk-”

“No I’ve alrea-” You try to protest, not wanting him to go out of his way for you any longer.

“Please. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re safe.” He begs, not just with his words but his eyes. 

“Okay.” You murmur. “But I’m taking the couch.”

Under any other circumstances, Spencer would have resisted you taking the couch. Today? He was utterly drained.

“Alright. I’ll get you something comfortable to change into while I set up the couch. You know where the bathroom is.” He sports a weak smile, unable to meet your eyes again. 

He watches you disappear into the bathroom after handing you some spare clothes. He sets the couch with the pillows and blankets he’d reserved for you. He bought them after you’d slept over a few times at the start of your friendship, wanting you to sleep as comfortably as possible so you would keep coming back.

You’d just broken his heart into a million pieces, so fine that he’d never be able to put it back together whole, but he still couldn’t not exert the utmost care when it came to you. 

In the bathroom, you fight back tears again as you fumble into his clothes. You’d worn this particular sweatshirt before, because you didn’t anticipate staying the night. It was never planned, often you two just lost track of time because you spent too long engaged in conversations. After a while you started leaving things at his place so you had an excuse to keep coming back. 

You can handle just being his friend, but you don’t think you can handle not being anything to him. Was there something you could do so you didn’t have to stop coming back? 

When you came out and saw your makeshift bed for the night, you felt slightly fuzzy inside. Spencer had already gone to bed but he’d covered the cushions of the couch with a thick blanket and two fluffy pillows. A fresh glass of water was waiting for you on the coffee table with the pills from earlier. 

Maybe things were okay after all? Surely he wouldn’t have put as much care into your comfort if they weren’t. So why couldn’t you shake this feeling of dread inside you? Why did the air feel so thick?

You spend most of what’s left of the night awake, curled into yourself on his couch, muffling your sobs. You’ve ruined another good thing. Pushed away probably the most important person in your life. You knew he was too good for you, he could never feel the same way. You got greedy.

Just a few feet away from you, Spencer’s in the exact same position as you on his bed. No rejection has ever hurt as much as when it came from you. He knew you were drunk, he knew you could never actually feel the same way. But aren’t drunk words sober thoughts? Statistics definitely agree they are.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache. Then the dry mouth. Spencer had left a glass of water, painkillers and a bagel on the coffee table. You reach for the pill first, hoping that the faster you take it, the faster it kicks in. As you practically pour the water down your throat, you see a little note next to the bagel. 

“Paper work day at the office. Make sure to eat and drink lots of water. Will tell Hotch that you’ll be late/taking the day off. - Spencer”

Thoughtful as ever. The bagel was still warm so he must’ve left recently. It was strange that he’d left without waking you up like he normally does. Your first bite of the bread jolts the memories of the night before and it hits you harder than the headache. Your appetite faded and the remorse set in. 

Shit. 

You and Spencer have always been able to bounce back, but the damage you caused last night might be irreparable. Say Spencer does forget about it, can you? You always knew he couldn’t love you back, but you never imagined that he would forbid you to love him in the first place. As much as you didn’t want to face Spencer right now, work was the best place for you to be if you didn’t want to go mad thinking about last night. 

You’d have to change into appropriate work attire first, so a trip back to your place was warranted. The whole uber ride back to your apartment you think of things to say when you see him. Things didn’t need to change. You had to apologise, obviously, but there had to be some way of apologising while maintaining normalcy. The best start was getting him his coffee and scones like you usually did. 

Meanwhile at the office, Spencer was stuck on the same page of his file. It had never taken him more than a few seconds to turn a page, but he wasn’t actually reading the words. You took up every thought in his mind again. He wondered if you were awake yet, if you remembered the events of the night before. 

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he initially heard you say it, all he heard was that you love him.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he said it out loud to himself all he wanted to do was tell you how much he does love you, but the chance was ripped away from him just as fast as it was given to him. Did you even care? Or was it just an insignificant event to you? It was a lot easier to accept that you could never love him the same way before he had a taste of what it would be like if you did. 

There was this moment, when your fingers were fiddling with his and you said those words, just a second where he experienced what it could be like. He can’t go back to how it was, not now that he knows how it could’ve been. In order to protect himself from unravelling completely he has to let you go. An impossible task, considering you work together. 

“I brought coffee.” Your expression is tentative. 

Spencer looks up to see you standing above him, holding his daily coffee and scones in hand. There are no traces of the night before to be seen on you. Your makeup is fresh and you’d clearly changed clothes. You looked perfectly angelic, as always. If it were any other day, your gesture would’ve made him feel like the most special person in the world. Today, it felt like the cruellest thing in the world. 

“Do you wanna come with me while I heat it up? Or should I just bring it back to you?” You prompt. 

“No.” He rises from his seat and pries it out from your hand. “I can do it. Thank you.” 

Before you comprehend what’s happened, Spencer’s walked away. You try to follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there he’s nowhere to be seen. This seems to be a trend for the next few days. You find some excuse to try for conversation and he shuts it down after about one sentence. That’s if you’re able to get close enough to him for that sentence. It’s becoming more and more obvious that he’s avoiding you. 

You decide to give him space after about a week of it, wishing everyday that you could go back in time and change things. Around the two week mark, he starts giving you the cold shoulder, not even so much as looking at you. He couldn’t look at you. It was taking everything in him to force himself away from you, but it was easier than being near you. You weren’t the only one who could feel this change in your dynamic, the team was just as confused.

They’d all tried to investigate the root of this shift, individually directing casual questions to both of you in conversations. You’d both just brushed it off, not wanting to be the burden of the topic. Spencer had been doing so well in keeping his distance, but eventually, Hotch made the decision that enough is enough.

The BAU was in Chicago this week, hunting down another unsub who thought he was too smart to get caught. This was one of those cases that would stick with you for a while, so tensions were already high amongst everyone. Nobody was more on edge than Spencer and now he was forced in a car with you, driving around the city, chasing leads. 

Rarely did he ever get behind the wheel, but he knew he would need any distraction he could get. Driving was supposed to mean he wouldn’t be stuck in the passenger seat, fighting the urge to stare at you. Now he was fighting the urge to stare at you from the driver's seat. He hated being in love. You were trying your best to stay silent and looking out the window at the passing buildings. 

“Are you hungry?” 

That’s the first time in a month that Spencer’s been the first one to speak. He tried not to. Like he tried not to pay attention to your routine. It wasn’t possible. No matter how hard he tried, there were just some things Spencer couldn’t not do in regards to you. The most important thing was that he couldn’t not care. 

He knew you hadn't been eating properly. You had a tendency to forget about your well-being during hard cases. You were probably hungry. Somebody had to take care of you because you most definitely weren’t going to. He was right. The thought of food made your stomach growl. It was wicked timing. 

“No, thank you.” You lie anyway, not wanting to inconvenience him further. 

“Why won’t you stop lying to me?” He mutters in annoyance. 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, turning to look at him. 

He doesn’t look away from the road, pretending to not have heard you. 

“Seriously?” You sputter. “You’re ignoring me now?”

You huff as you throw yourself back against your seat. He didn’t mean to ignore you, he just didn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.” You mumble. 

It was already daunting when he was barely acknowledging you, but refusing to acknowledge all together? When you were the only person next to him? That was just vicious. You knew you’d fucked up, but was this necessary? You had already spent so much of yourself trying to keep it together, being confined in this car with him would waste your efforts. 

“Pull over.” You say in the kindest way possible, which was immensely harsh. “Spencer Reid pull this damn car over or I swear to fucking God I am going to jump out of it.”

That definitely caught his attention. In all your time together, you had never spoken to him in that way. You had definitely never addressed him by his full name. He brings the car to a halt on the side of the curb and finally turns to face you. You push the door open and hop out, slamming it behind you. 

“What are yo-” Spencer starts, but you’re already walking away. He quickly gets out and follows behind you. It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you and he stops you by the arm when he realises saying your name won’t make you turn back around. 

“Don’t touch me!” You yank your arm out of his grip and keep walking. 

“Where are you going?!” 

“Anywhere you’re not.” 

He tries you by your name again, but when it fails again, he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You hadn’t noticed that you’d walked into an alleyway. 

“Get back in the car.” He demands.

“I am not getting in a car with you.” You have never been this upset with him before. 

“You’re being childish!” He snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Oh I’m being childish?! Spencer, believe me when I say I mean this is the nicest way I possibly can right now – FUCK OFF!” You push his hands off you and take a step back, but he just grabs your wrist.

“Listen to me,” he urges, “there is a serial killer that’s kidnapping women in broad daylight, torturing them and murdering them. And he’s threatened each of us individually during the course of this investigation. You cannot just be walking around alone, in a city you hardly know.”

“Don’t explain the details of this case to me, I’m well aware.” You snarl, your irritation increasing tenfold.

“Then why are you being so difficult?!” He screeches.

“Why are you–fucking hell, I cannot keep doing this. I’m not getting in the car when you won’t talk to me. Hell, you won’t even so much as look at me!” 

“Fine! You wanna talk? We’ll talk! Just–get back in the car. Please.” He sighs in defeat. You still don’t budge, so he pleads softer. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, stealing your wrist out of his grasp. Spencer doesn’t move until you do, both of you silently making your way to the car. 

You’re both silent initially, not knowing where exactly to go from here. There’s one thing you know for sure, you won’t be the first to speak. Spencer catches on to that fast. 

“What do you wanna talk about?” He snarls, shrugging his arms. 

“Cut the shit, I won’t get back in this car if I get out for a second time.” You’re not in the mood. The two of you had avoided this conversation for long enough, it was now or never. Some part of you wished for never. 

“Fine. Did you mean it?” He shoots, briskly. 

“What?” You didn’t know which part he meant. 

“That you love me specifically as an ‘amazing friend’, I believe was your wording.” His voice cracks and it causes a shift in his behaviour. He’s no longer hostile, just hurt. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” 

In your rush to get him talking, you hadn’t actually realised that you weren’t ready to talk about this. You were stalling. 

“Answering a question with a question.” 

This doesn’t feel like a conversation. More like an interrogation, except you’re the unsub. He scoffs bitterly at your silence. 

“Spencer, don’t–” 

“No, you’re the one who wanted to talk! You were so insistent, in fact, that you would have rather made yourself a serial killer’s target then get in a car with me if I didn’t talk to you. And all of a sudden you’re speechless?” He snaps at you. 

“Yes! I was the one who wanted to talk! I just– I can’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me so much? Was it because I said I love you? Did it really upset you that much?” You were both shouting from frustration. 

“You think I’m upset because you love me?!” Spencer scoffs in disbelief. 

“Aren’t you?!” You bitterly laugh. 

Spencer rubs his temples and squeezes his eyes shut, mumbling some under his breath. He’s genuinely never been this frustrated in his life. 

“Are you being serious?” His voice strains in pitch, as he tries to keep himself a lot calmer than he feels. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

“Some sort of joke–”

“Do not interrupt me again. You wanna run away from this? Fine. But you will listen because I will not have this conversation again.” His tone is sharp, like a blade being held against your throat. It definitely shuts you up.

“Talk. Okay, let’s talk about how I have spent the last four years watching you allow undeserving men to walk all over you, letting them treat you like you’re worth nothing. I damn near drove myself insane trying to figure out why. Why is it something you accept for yourself? And then I realised– that’s how you see yourself. You actually hate yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself you deserve it! Do you realise how infuriating that is?!

Especially because it’s the furthest thing from the truth! Still, I watched you throw yourself into this vicious cycle over and over again. You gave yourself away to those idiots, knowing that they didn’t have good intentions, but you still hoped it would be different every time. I mean you’re a fucking profiler for God’s sake! How can you expect others to love you if you can’t even love yourself? 

That’s not even the worst part! You’re so desperate for their acceptance that you continuously neglect the acceptance you already have from the people who love you. People like Emily, Penelope, Derek– the team– people like– people like me. I mean I’ve always known that you didn’t love me as anything more than a friend, but your constant reminders feel like a punch to the gut! Is it that embarrassing for you to love me as anything more?

I’ve survived way worse things, but this is the cruellest thing I’ve ever been through. Because it’s coming from you! I just never expected it’d be from you.” He’s practically hyperventilating for air by the time his speech comes to a stop, the vein in his forehead more prominent than usual.

Your jaw is tense and restless, twitching from anger. Some part of you still wants to keep this friendship. The louder part knows that there’s no going back from this. You’re not entirely sure you want to go back. Your entire body is shaking from rage. The first rule of your friendship was no profiling. Not only did he break that rule, he used the profile against you as if you actually were an unsub he was interrogating. 

“That’s not fair”

His eye twitches at your response. 

“Not? Fair?” Spencer grumbles in pauses.

“No, that's not fair!” You cry out. “It’s your turn to listen.”

It doesn’t feel like there’s any oxygen left to breathe in the car.

“Self loathing? Spencer, that's your projection! You love too hard and nobody’s ever loved you back the same way. But just because you lack things you want in your life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me! And all this talk about love, but none of it makes any sense. You think I’m embarrassed of loving you? Is that how shallow you think I am?! You’re the one who told me that I can’t love you. God, you are the most duplicitous person I’ve ever met! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because I love you as an ‘amazing friend’? Because you love me and you think I’ve been neglecting you?!”

You had never spoken to anyone this way in your life. There was so much truth to Spencer’s words, but he had no right. He’d touched every nerve in your body without ever laying a hand on you. Up until roughly twenty minutes ago, being seen by Spencer was your favourite thing in the entire world. Now? You’d never hated the feeling more in your life. 

Spencer squeezes his hand into a fist, knuckles going white and releases his fingers like if he were aggressively squishing a stress ball. If asked about a month ago, he would never in a million years think that your friendship would manage to dissipate in just a few seconds. He didn’t think he could associate the word love with you anymore.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I do not love you. I do not love anything about you. Actually, I hate you. I hate how sweet you pretend to be. I hate the stupid morning coffee you bring me, nothing tastes more bitter. I hate to admit this but you’re right; everything about you is a brutal reminder of all the good things I can never have and I despise you for it.” He spits his words out with extreme tension in his blood vessels. 

“I can’t say I’ve known what it feels like to truly loathe someone before I met you.” You fire back, breathlessly, not having it in you to spare any more words for him. 

You’re not exactly sure how long the two of you have been sitting there just glaring at each other. Only when Spencer’s phone rings do you two look away. 

“Reid.” He answers the call. “Yea, she’s still here. We’re on our way back now.”

The ride back to the precinct was silent. Even as you regrouped with the rest of the team, you acknowledged everybody but each other. The team was instantly alert to the change, but no one mentioned it at the time because of the high stress of the case. You wrapped the case up a few days later and only then did the questions start making their way around. 

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What happened between you and Reid?”

“What’s up with Boy Wonder over there?”

You didn’t entertain any of them, Spencer had taken up enough time in your life. You refused to talk about him, look at him or acknowledge him at all. He shared that same incentive. Another three weeks passed as the team watched what was once the closest duo in the BAU, pretend that their counterpart didn’t exist. 

If one of you was in a room and noticed the other enter, you’d walk out without drawing attention to the situation. When leaving the room was not an option, you either went as far in the opposite corner of the room as you could or you’d simply pretend the other wasn’t present just a few metres away. You wouldn’t discuss intel with each other about cases, sharing your findings with anybody else. 

Since Chicago, Hotch only assigned you with Spencer once more, but quickly realised that wasn’t going to help when both of you begged to be assigned with someone else privately. If you were in a discussion with someone and they started talking about Spencer, you’d tune out entirely. After a while the hating game got exhausting.

Spencer hated pretending that he hated you. He felt an immense amount of guilt for the things he’d said, but it was too late to take it back. He thought it would be easier to deal with his feelings if he wasn’t around you all the time, but it was just as difficult as before. You still lit up the dull grey rooms of the building. The only difference was that now he had to watch you shine from afar. 

In truth, you didn’t hate Spencer either. What you actually hated was that you didn’t hate Spencer. You still caught yourself staring at him for long periods of time. There were days when you’d go to his favourite coffee shop before work and buy his order, only to give it away to somebody on the street because you didn’t want to ruin Spencer’s day with the bitterness of your coffee. 

By the fifth week since you had gotten back from Chicago, you and Spencer were no longer ignoring each other as much. You’d gotten into a routine of professionalism for the sake of the team, only talking to each other about cases when necessary. That didn’t stop you from subconsciously showing subtle gestures of love. These were a lot quieter than the gestures you showed when you were friends. 

You’d make sure that there was always a fresh pot of coffee in the office kitchen, so Spencer would have it ready to drink whenever he needed. He’d make sure that the snack cupboard was always filled with your favourite snacks because he knew you liked having something to munch on when catching up on paperwork. You’d keep extra painkillers in Garcia’s lair knowing Spencer would retreat there when a migraine hit.

He’d ensure the aircon was always set to room temperature, you get uncomfortable if the room was too cold. Both of you were aware of the little gestures too, no one else knew your truly niche preferences. Neither of you was brave enough to actually go up to the other, though. It was all too much for you. No matter what was said, he was still your thoughtful Spencer deep down and it killed you.

You’d tried to talk to Spencer a few times, building up the courage for days in advance. As soon as he noticed you heading in his direction, he nearly bolted in the other direction. His avoidance didn’t end at the office. You recently became aware that Penelope had been scheduling rosters to invite you and Spencer to outings, trying to ensure you were present for equal amounts of time. 

You were chilling at her desk in wait for her, when you noticed a little note with your name next to a date and time. Under that was Spencer’s name with a separate date and time. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” She greets you.

“I needed to talk to you…Penelope what is this?” You hold up the little pink sticky note.

Penelope sets her octopus mug down and takes the note from your hand. 

“This? This is nothing.” She fumbles a bit as she speaks.

“Garcia?” You purposefully speak with warning.

“Okay! Okay! But you didn’t hear it from me! We’ve kinda been taking turns hanging out with you and Spencer sometimes. But it’s because we love you and don’t want to make either of you-” She starts a panicked tangent.

“Garcia!” You interrupt her before she sends herself into a spiral. “There’s no need to do all of this. Yes Spencer and I aren’t close anymore, but you guys don’t need to go out of your way for us.”

“Well..” She grits her teeth and tilts her head.

“What?” 

“We didn’t really mean to. It’s just we noticed that Spencer would never come if you were going. And both of you just straight up refuse to talk about it, so this was the best we could come up with.” 

“Oh. Penny, I’m sorry that you guys have had to do that.” That was all you could say, your head hanging in guilt.

“Can you at least tell me why you won’t talk about it? I mean it makes sense for Boy Wonder, he’s always been stubbornly private, but you’ve never not told me anything!” 

You look towards Garcia again, thinking for a minute. You didn’t know exactly why you refused to talk about it. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I just don’t want to talk about it, if that makes sense?” You pull your friend in for a hug as an apology. 

You felt awful leaving her lair without giving her a proper answer or a resolution. It didn’t matter how professional you acted, this rift would always impact your friends and your work life. 

Spencer would always impact everything in your life. 

The guilt didn’t spare you that night, creeping its way to the forefront of your mind every few minutes. It had been four months since your last fight. It was the longest you’d gone without Spencer. This had to end for the sake of the team. That was how you found yourself standing at his door once again. After a few minutes you finally knock. You didn’t know what you were going to say, honestly you just wanted to run before he answered. You hear the locks being undone, but it’s not Spencer who answers when that door finally swings open.

“Yes?” 

It’s a woman, one you've never seen before. You’re taken aback and look around to make sure you got the right apartment. This was definitely Spencer’s apartment, you’d been here a hundred times before. And some woman was answering his door for him. Some very beautiful woman. 

“Can I help you?” She follows up, looking you up and down. 

“Hi, yeah, sorry, is–um– is Spencer here?”

“Who’s asking?” She’s definitely not very friendly. 

“We work together. Is he here or not?” You didn’t have the patience for this, annoyance seeping through your pores. 

“Who’s at the door?” His voice emerges from behind her and he finally shows up. “Oh.”

“Hey.” You glance away as soon as you see him. 

“Could you give me a minute?” He turns to the woman. She flashes a sickly sweet smile and kisses his cheek before disappearing inside. Spencer shuffles out to the corridor, closing the door behind him.

“That–uh–that was–” He stops himself, clearing his throat and switching to his professional voice. “What are you doing here?”

Cold.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to play off what you just saw. 

“What more is there to say?” 

“About the team. I came over to, um, apologise and maybe move past things for the sake of the team.” You were looking everywhere but at him. 

“Honestly?” His eyes are on you though. “I don’t care. And even if I did, I don’t want to hear it.” 

He starts to walk away, but turns back and mentions your name like it’s the most vile word in the dictionary. “Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

With that he re-enters his apartment, leaving you standing in the hallway. It’s hard to imagine that this man was once your best friend. If you didn’t know about all the good times, you wouldn’t have believed it. Every tear that your body could ever produce streamed out of you for the rest of the night. Once you had made it back to your apartment, they broke out in sobs. In your line of work, you had survived being shot at, almost blown up and even a kidnapping once.

The man you loved with every fibre of your being looking at you like you were less than filth under a person's shoes was your breaking point. There was no way you were going to face him again. You needed to forget about Spencer Reid, which meant a fresh start. This city was a constant reminder of his essence, you couldn’t stay. You plopped down on your bed with your work bag, reaching into it for your work computer. Hands twitching as you type. 

You remember being so proud when David Rossi recommended you for the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit. You were even more ecstatic when Hotch actually requested your transfer there. You had worked your ass off for it. It was there that you met the infamous Doctor Reid. He was much different than how you had imagined him. He was so charming, friendly and so down to earth, not liking him wasn’t an option. The two of you had so much in common, despite being so different, it was the foundation for your friendship. His caring nature pulled you in further, you soon found yourself deeply in love with him. 

Tears flooded your keyboard as all your memories with him flash through your brain. His friendship was a beautiful bonus of the job you once loved, you never thought that he would become the reason you’d leave it. Yet here you were, furiously drafting your resignation to Agent Hotchner. There were so many signals in your brain telling you to back off, to open a bottle of wine and drown your sorrows instead, but your heart didn’t feel like that would be enough. Your love for your job didn’t outweigh your desire to run.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and being in love with him is an excruciating torture. One that you can no longer endure. You had never been more sure of anything as you are at this moment and you weren’t going to give yourself time to change your mind. Your time with Spencer and, as a consequence, your time at the BAU had come to an end. Another memory flashes through your mind as you sign the letter off with your name. A case in Boston had gone wrong and you were really hung up on it. Spencer, in an attempt to help you move on, shared a quote with an author he had recently read. You bitterly chuckle to yourself at this recall and press send with no second thought.

 “Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” - C.S. Lewis.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, friends to enemies, mutual pining, hurt, angst no comfort, whump (maybe idk), Reader & Spencer are both idiots, they should probably consider therapy actually, Spencer is a sassy little shit, but really just needs a hug and a class on communication. 

AN - You’ve heard of enemies to lovers/friends, now I present to you the exact same thing in reverse (been done time and time again, I’m not in any way original <3). You can blame Ariana Grande for this one. Sorry that I haven't posted, I've had insane writers block. I might be slightly incapable of shorter word counts, I’ll try to improve that.  I apologise for grammar/anything that does not make sense, I am both an idiot and also was dealing with a bad case of the flu when I wrote this. I’d like to thank @reidmotif for curing my writer's block and inspiring me on the second half of this fic. Thank you @starstruckbambi for proof reading this.

Drop thoughts & feelings so I can ponder on them. Always remember that I’m in your walls. 

Thank you for reading!

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Help Iman’s family find safety (@imaneyad) - Iman has a family of 7 who need to find safety.

Help save Youssef's family (@bba3lo @mahmoud7878) - Ahmed Baalousha wants to save his wife, his two sons, his daughter, as well as his parents and siblings.

Support Ruba and Amal's family's urgent evacuation (@rubashaban @amalshabn) - Ruba and Amal's family are lacking the basic necessities of life; they have an elderly father who desperately needs to be evacuated for medical care.

Save little Yusuf and his family (@ahmednabubake) - Yusuf is in an intensive care unit fighting for his life in Gaza; he needs urgent evacuation alongside his family.

Help Omar evacuate (@omarsobhi) - Omar is a 20 year old Palestinian student who wants to save himself and his family from this genocide.

Help Belal and his family to evacuate from Gaza (@alaajshaat) - Belal has lost too much to this war and needs to support himself and his family.

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Stop putting that fucking ballerina mom on my fyp I don't careeeee white women were sooooo quick to cry over her— like snot bubble, runny nose sobbing, over the choice she made to marry wealthy and have kids, but if you tell them about the sexual violence women and kids are suffering in Congo watch them turn stone face so quick, they couldn't give less of a fuck about black and brown women. They feel more for a wealthy white ballerina who gave up her dreams for a MAN than they do about Women using tent lining as menstrual pads in Palestine I don't careeeeeeeeee about the fucking ballerina she'll live get off the floor stop crying

Immigrant women give up their dreams every day, refugee women give up their dreams every day, Palestinian women give up their dreams every day, women in Congo give up their dreams every day, Bangladeshi women give up their dreams every day and they're dreaming about safety and security. We should all be so fucking lucky to give up being a ballerina to be a rich man's wife I DON'T CAREEEEEEEE AND I HATE Y'ALL

As a ‘fan’ of the triplets this is something that has always been in the back of my head as time goes by and this is the second time to say that I find it kinda weird that the triplets haven’t talked about palestine and the fact that innocent women and children are being killed every day in gaza and they’re just sitting there eating mcdonalds in vlogs and living large while schools and hospitals are being bombed. these are grown ass men that own businesses and pay taxes and they can’t even donate or speak about palestine?

even fucking frank ocean comes out from the dead and reposts videos and photos of the Palestinian children, so if frank ocean can tap a singular button to show awareness of what’s going on in gaza then what is stopping them? losing sponsorships? or a few subscribers? it’s like it’s all about money, bella hadid got dropped from fucking dior for speaking and standing up for the cause AND SHE STILL DOES REGARDLESS. The more the time goes, the more they look like ignorant dickfaces.

Palestine is being wiped off the map as we speak and is being renamed as isreal even as all the land belongs to Palestine

ALL EYES ON RAFAH 🇵🇸

just saw ur welcome post and saw u supported palestine. ily queen.

free palestine 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸!!!

FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

it kinda hurts to see the triplets ignore such prominent things in news like a genocide and modern day colonisation, plus even buying from such places that support isreal (like mcdonalds) and not use their huge platform to talk about Palestine is so disappointing. It’s like they don’t want to come in contact with any type of cancellation at all which kinda makes them look weird but on the better end Larray, Isa and Nailea have my heart.