phonecallwithsatan

[phonecallwithsatan]

BTS reactions to bumping into you

Jin:��“Ew.” 

RM: Looks you up and down before spitting in your face.

Suga: Fucking roundhouse kicks you and then stomps on your stomach until you die. 

J-hope: Throws a smoke grenade which, when dispersed, reveals both of your dead bodies.

Jimin: Giggles, you instantly combust into flames.

V: You pass out and wake up in a black dimension with growls quickly approaching from behind.

Jungkook: His dark, lusting meets your amber-colored orbs which flutter like open flames. He then asks for your tender, pale hand which he kisses with his pink, voluptuous lips. 

“May I buy you? I can pay for your mom’s medical bills.” He offers and smirks, revealing sharp fangs. 

[phonecallwithsatan]

This is so cute :,)

studious

summary: spencer helps you get much needed rest as you study for finals category: fluff, spencer reid x gn!reader warnings: food mention, mortality joke wc: 1k.

A/N: thank you my love @reidtheprettyboy for making me this gif! go look at her pretty gifs for more 🥺 prompts are from my 750 celebration! “do i have to?” + “i love you, but i need you to go away because you’re really bloody distracting and i have to pass this test tomorrow.”.

“The brain’s ability to apply logic and reasoning functions better with 7.16 hours of sleep. Overall cognitive ability improves after 7.38 hours, or by adding 1.18 hours more to your usual amount.”

“That's nice.”

“You’ve only slept for three. That’s well below the recommended average. Though if you add just an hour — say, with a brief nap — it could improve your brain function, thereby making it easier for you to study.” “Go away, Spencer.”

“Spencer? No cute name? Did I get demoted suddenly?”

“Yes. You get demoted when you bother me.”

“I’m not bothering, I’m helping,” he laughs, wrapping two arms around your tense shoulders, pressing his lips to your throbbing temples. “You need some sleep.”

He’s right, you do. For days now, you’ve burned the candle at both ends — waking up early to study, staying up late to finish up, only to wake up and do it again the next morning. If it weren’t for Spencer inviting himself over to your place — bringing you snacks, refreshing your coffee pot (secretly switching you to decaf when necessary), and reminding you to wash your hair (a sad fact, admittedly) — you wouldn’t have seen a single other soul all week. He’s been helpful more times than you can count.

But right now, he’s getting in the way of you and a series of chapters you so desperately need to learn.

“I promise, I’ll sleep for three whole days when I pass this exam. Or when I’m dead — whichever comes first.”

“Uh-huh, that’s a good joke... but actually, sleeping more than 2.76 hours above your average is just as detrimental to brain function as not sleeping enough.”

You nod along, humming like you’re agreeing with him just to get him to stop his (very rightful) nagging. “That’s nice. Now, go. Away. Spencer.”

“Just let me help,” he pouts, resting his chin against the top of your head.

The full weight of his body leans onto your back, holding you down like a secure blanket and for the first time that day, you feel some comfort. Your sigh is felt through every ounce of you as you set down the pen you’ve held onto so tightly that it’s left indentation marks on your fingers.

“Just stay here with me. That’s helping.” You crane your neck up to meet his head and place a small kiss to the underside of his chin. You can feel him smile against you, and the small rumble in his throat from his giggle tickles your lips.

“And so are these,” you smirk, reaching up to steal the glasses from his face and slipping them on yours as you go back to reading, the words on the page now a lot closer to your strained eyes. He makes some comment about you ruining your vision with his insanely high prescription, but you don’t care. Wearing his things and the cute, false indignation he puts up when you take them, bring you light in any dull moment.

“Okay, but this isn’t super comfortable,” he taps his chin in dramatic thought, pulling your desk chair, with you in it, back a little. “Can we study on your bed?”

“Do I have to?” You give him a pointed look, eyes narrowing in suspicion of what ploy he’s thinking of. Still, you follow him as he moves onto your bed. Not as if you have a choice, he stole all of your textbooks from you so you have to do what he says.

“Well you’re already here. Seems harder not to, now, doesn’t it?”

You roll your eyes at him and plop belly-down onto the mattress.

Oh. It’s so soft.

So unlike the hard, hard desk chair you’ve been sitting on for days.

And the covers are warm and inviting.

Spencer scoots himself closer, laying his chest on your back as you prop yourself on your elbows, textbook laying open in front of you. His head settles into the crook between your shoulder and neck, nuzzling into your skin as you read, arms bracing himself on either side of you. He’s boxed you in with his whole body, and all you can feel is his warmth.

By your furrowed eyebrows, he can tell you’re still tense, so he begins brushing your hair out of your eyes, dragging his fingers along your scalp and applying increasing pressure as they travel down to the base of your neck, rubbing small, soothing circles.

“You’re not cute,” you lie, shifting down the bed and relaxing more fully.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, in the spot of bare skin that’s left exposed by your cardigan — really, his cardigan. Another piece you’ve stolen from him long ago that at some point he decided became more yours than his. Ours, as you preferred to think of it.

The hand not supporting his weight rubs up and down the sleeve, the friction leaving warm trails that he retraces over and over. Not that you can see, but he’s smiling, “I know.”

Following a big yawn, and a series of smaller, successive ones, you press on, “I love you, but... I need you to... go away because... you’re really... bloody distracting… and... I have to pass this test tomorrow.”

Your eyelids droop a bit, and you stretch them out, refocusing your vision on the pages that continue to taunt you. To no avail, it seems, as they start falling again, only getting heavier each time.

“Sure,” he continues stroking out your hair, recovering his glasses from your face so they stay out of your way as your head starts approaching the mattress. Your whole body slacks, and he hums happily when a soft snore escapes you, leaving one last peck along the top of your hairline, “I love you, too.”

-

-

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[phonecallwithsatan]

I remember all the cute ones… like you.

[phonecallwithsatan]

deep rage, soft love

a.n.: hi everyone! I’m back after a period of absence. I’m really sorry about that. Here is a a short spencer drabble <3

What it felt like to be on a break with Spencer Reid, 200 word drabble

☆

“How long has it been?” he asked as he tucked your loose hair behind your ear. Rain pittered off Spencer’s umbrella.

Rain was falling as you looked at Spencer with dreaded eyes. He had come to pick you up for a coffee date after months of silence between you – and you were the reason why.

You didn’t know why it just, to put it bluntly, happened. You drifted away from him. Your work got in the way, his work got in the way, it felt like falling out of love. It hurt.

“Hm?” Spencer tilted his head and peered down at you slightly. He tried to hold you but you couldn’t stand the sense of newfound relief that overwhelmed you so much that you had to cry so deeply, that the rain seemed incomparable to that of your tears.

Spencer sank. He couldn’t see you like this. He was crying. 

You couldn’t keep pushing him away, you just couldn’t.

He couldn’t stay away, he just couldn’t.

Spencer dropped the umbrella and you felt the rain simply fall through your hair.

“I’m sorry, baby-” your sentence was quickly forgotten as you fell into him, finally letting deep rage fall, and letting soft love come right back in.

He was yours.

[phonecallwithsatan]

Michael Langdon | AHS Apocalypse: Sojourn 

[phonecallwithsatan]

Hairstyle (Drabble)

a.n.: HI EVERYONE <3 I hope your night is going amazing. Here is a drabble I took off a deleted headcannon! Thank you again for fifty followers :) youre all amazing! My requests are open, too! If you have an idea send it over and I will do my best to write it the way you envisioned it!

A 300-word drabble about Spencer carrying around hair accesories for you.

Spencer always carried around a hair tie or hair clip on him at all times. It sort of just depended on what you needed.

You loved those spiral hair ties for when your hair was long. When it was short, you adored putting in different clips and pins in your hair.

He began to carry hair ties  around when he noticed you scratching around your wrist when you were looking for a hair tie while you were baking. Your long hair was all up in the bowl.

“What are you looking for, baby?” Spencer looked up from his book.

“A hair tie.” You stopped clawing at your wrist and you walked away to get one from the room.

Another time was when your hair was being so, so annoying one morning. Unfortunatley, you had forgotten all your accesorries to put your short hair back.

Spencer was really sad that day because you were frustrated.

Every since, he usually had a hair tie on his wrist and a hair clip in his bag.

They would come in handy constantly.

Also to mention, Spencer never gave it up. Those were for you and you only.

You went out with the team one time to a bar. There, JJ was also doing the similar wrist claw motion at the booth.

“Does anyone have a hair tie?” Her hair was in her hands and she looked around to everyone. You shook your head alongside Emily, Derek, and Penelope.

You turned to Spencer who sat with his hands together at the top of the booth with a maroon spiraled hair tie. He wasn’t going to give up the hair tie if you didn’t tell him to because, “they” in his words, were just for you.

“Spence,” you nudged his arm with the accessory and he took it off his wrist to give to JJ without a blink.

You didn’t know how to explain it but he was kind of like an obedient puppy when it came to you.

He took your hand in his and rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand subtly without drawing too much attention.

[phonecallwithsatan]

You're Letter piece with Ratched was brilliant!! Are you going to do a part 2?

Posted! <3

[phonecallwithsatan]

Letter (Part II)

a.n.: the support for this particular fic has been astounding! Thank you so much to everyone who liked and commented! I appreciate you so much and you all make my day<3 Click here for part one!

I used parts of Pillow Talk by Courtney Peppernell for this at the end. Full credits go directly to that book!

Reader and Mildred Ratched live a secret life in Lucia, California. All is well, truly, until reader walks in on something she did not expect. Angst central. Picks up from where Mildred ended. 1.2k words.

☆

Mildred jumped to the side as her beloved frightened her with their shared car. There they go. Leaving. Because of something so stupid. 

Y/n didn’t turn back to look at her as they drove. They just continued on down as the headlights cleared path for them.

She turned and looked at the door that was flug open. 

Fucking Gwen’s car was gone. Mildred stared at the empty spot with agonizing eyes that could kill. She wanted to kill.

Mildred was standing in the middle of her street covered in only a bedsheet. She wouldn’t cry. She refused to cry. Mildred walked back inside. This is when panic set in.

She began to scream and kick whatever interior she could find. Vases on the counter, shoes on the ground, half-empty glasses like her mood, she wreaked havoc. She screamed into the hallway, not allowing time to hear her screams echo back to her as her screams continued on, and on, and on, until she couldn’t allow herself to continue anymore. She placed a hand on the wall to support herself but this ended up being a bust.

She fell to her knees and from there Mildred allowed herself to lean against the wall with her right shoulder propped against it.

“Fuck.” She muttered. “Fuck!”

It was over and Mildred knew it from the moment she met Gwen. She remembered that day. Y/n made her a sandwich. Bologna. 

Y/n was home that day. Mildred always ate lunch with them when they had shifts together. But that one day. That one, singular day, Y/n was home. 

Mildred shut her eyes quickly and opened them after a few seconds of pressure. She didn’t know where Y/n was, or where Y/n was going even at this point. Mildred rubbed her eyes and got up after a few staggering moments. She walked down with a hand still on the wall and she looked at what her bedroom had become.

There were roses on the floor. The stems were broken and the petals must have flown off when they were thrown against the wall and stepped over. Her sheets were spread out in all the wrong places — fucking Gwen.

Mildred knelt down and picked up Gwen’s skirt from the floor and she threw it in rage. What the hell was she thinking? 

Mildred felt herself grow lightheaded. She needed to sit down. She took the sheets in her hand and gripped them as she sat on the bed. This has never happened to her before. She looked around frantically, looking for Y/n, but realizing that they were not going to appear. She took a cigarette from the bedside table and lit it slowly. 

The wine bottle in the corner brought by Gwen didn’t look half as bad right now. 

☆

Mildred woke up with a red splatter stain on the carpet. She regained consciousness and her eyes opened wide as she stared at the spot without blinking.

What happened last night?

She blinked and turned to the right. That’s when she saw the wine bottle. She remembered now. Y/n was gone and she was basically a homewrecker. Mildred ran a hand through her uncombed and unstyled hair. She felt like all she could do was mope around and wait for them to come back. But in the back of her mind, Mildred just knew that they weren’t coming back.

Y/n was so independent and decisive. They were not the type to second guess or to not succeed in something. Y/n was capable of betrayal at the same level that Mildred was at. This is something Mildred knew when she got involved with them. They were such a strong flame, and honestly, there was nothing that could dim that light.

This proved to be wrong.

Mildred got up and stared at the stupid skirt on the ground that served as a constant reminder for what she had done. All of a sudden, the skirt reminded her of something new.

How many days had it been? 

When — How long ago did this happen?

What day of the week is it?

Mildred furrowed her brows and she kicked the skirt and saw the withering flowers under it. It had been many days. 

Milred finally began to get a sense of surroundings. She could finally smell, see, think, feel, and hear properly. She reeked of uncleanliness, her room was covered in stains and overall must, there were bottles and pieces of paper on the ground she must have accumulated over the days, a migraine was forming again, and finally, the window had been cracked open. The only thing you could hear were the birds singing and children playing hide-and-seek in the neighbor's yard. That was until a new sound appeared.

The phone was ringing.

Mildred snapped her head to the door and ran out of it. Running down the hallway, she got to the phone that sang the common “ddrrrring” that filled atmospheres loudly.

She picked up. 

“Mildred Ratched.” She cleared her throat and panicked at her response. She must have not talked in a few days, maybe even weeks?

There was only a slight crackling on the other end. 

“Hello?” She spoke again. There was nothing. Mildred took the receiver away from her ear to hang up. Right before she placed the piece back, Mildred heard a voice.

“...Me. I’m calling from Colorado.”

Y/n. Mildred listened as her knees buckled.

“Y/n, baby, please-” Mildred heard you breathe heavily from the other end and she touched the phone with her other hand to feel closer to them. She sank her cheek into it. 

“I’m not coming back. I wanted to call so we could arrange the car.”

Mildred was disappointed with the reasoning for the call. Regardless, she was so happy to hear their voice.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Keep it. You’re already out there. Unless,” Mildred began to continue but she was cut off by the other end.

“No, Mildred.” Y/n spoke sternly and you heard a child squeal in the background. “I have to go.” 

“Hold on, Y/n!” Mildred yelped out. She was so desperate.

Y/n didn’t respond but Mildred realized she didn’t hang up.

“Y/n, listen. I thought about kissing you today, and yesterday, and the day before that.” Mildred didn’t know what day of the week it was but she wasn’t lying. “I know I’ll think about kissing you tomorrow and that day after that. I think about kissing your dimple, your cheek, your spot. I only think about kissing you.” 

Mildred decided to continue.

“I miss you. Please, baby, come back. Come back home. It’s only you. It’s always been just you-”

They hung up.

“Hello?! Y/n?” Mildred pleaded and her voice cracked. She held the phone up to her face in such a tight manner. It was over. 

Mildred tried speaking but nothing came out. 

It was over.

[phonecallwithsatan]

I love this!! <3

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hey babies! this is just a lil something i wrote thinking about spence. let me know if you’d like to read more criminal minds stuff - and please keep in mind it’s my first time writing for any cm character. enjoy and remember: feedback is highly encouraged!

𝐖𝐂: 400 (ish)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you recall falling in love with spencer as you spend a night together. fluff - brief mentions of alcohol, sex and stress. 

“Spence?” Your voice, barely above a whisper, disrupts the comfortable silence around you. His chocolate gaze doesn’t leave the pages he’s currently lost in. Reid’s fingertips are pressed against the leather cover, unconsciously tracing it.

It wasn’t the ideal date night: he barely got home from a particular tough case, one he didn’t even give you details about – you didn’t push, though. You knew better than asking him about a case he chose to not talk openly about. The both of you have been simply coexisting together for a few hours now: while you worked on your computer, he read his book – a simple but effective dynamic.

After calling his name one more time, Spencer finally answers you.

“Yeah?” His voice is equally quiet as his eyes finally leave the Astrophysics book – his current obsession.

For a brief second, just as his eyes meet yours, a wave of memories choke your mind. The first time you spent the night over at his place was your favorite one: busy, clumsy hands exploring in the dark, low sounds echoing through your bodies as a white hot wave took over you. Spencer was delicate; too scared to shatter you – again, often times it felt like everything surrounding him would end up destroyed.

Eventually, the kisses got more passionate, rougher. What were once intimate, shy moments soon became something you weren’t even able to describe. The fire in his eyes was something you wouldn’t consider even in your wildest dreams. Fistfuls of messy brown hair and the beautiful constellation of love bites on the sensitive skin of your neck were enough proof of his undying desire for you.

You recall memories of lingering touches, the faint taste of whiskey and the gracious sunshine bathing the both of you in gentleness after a peculiar night – the first time you took Spencer to a party with you. Till this day, you cannot forget how flustered he looked when he saw you dancing – consequently or not, the first time he didn’t treat you as something that would fall apart in his arms at any given moment.

Looking in Spencer’s eyes was like falling in love all over again.

“I love you.” You confess, like he hasn’t heard such words a thousand times before. You weren’t surprised when he smiled shyly, like a thousand times before.

“I love you too.” He whispers back, slowly returning his gaze to another astrophysics topic once again.

[phonecallwithsatan]

Hands

a.n.: Guys I just finished my art piece for school and it features yours truly—Doctor Spencer Reid<3 enjoy this blurb written at 3 a.m. !gn as always!

Spencer plays with your hands under the table where no one can see. 

☆

The B.A.U. finally got an unexpected night off from cases and mayhem. 

Everyone was disappointed when you and Reid declined the offer for the bar Emily and Penelope were suggested— little did they know you two had a date planned for later on.

You and Spencer were unfortunatley dragged along but found some vacancy in a booth far in a corner where no one could really see. 

No one knew you and Spencer were dating. At least not yet.

You watched as Morgan and Garcia talked at the bar top, drinks in hand and eyes locked on one another as dad grunge filled your ears. 

Emily and Rossi mingled amongst one another. You watched as Emily leaned in to hear him better because of the loud music. You watched her face contort as she struggled to understand.

You wondered how no one really had a clue you and the Doctor were seeing each other outside of the bullpen.

Spencer saw you focused on your coworkers so he took your hand in his under the table.

He was to your right, so ultimately, your right hand was in both of his.

He looked at your nail polish. They were painted his favorite color- Lavender. He knew you did this because he liked seeing them from across the room as you worked on your paperwork.

He took his finger and smoothed down your fingernail to feel the coat on his fingertips. The shine disappeared as his finger went on top of it.

You looked at Spencer and saw him focused on your hands. He continued to play around with them, moving from your nails to the back of your hand- right on the soft spot he liked to kiss. 

“Hey,” you spoke up.

“Hi.” He looked up and you saw him tighten his mouth a little. A dimple appeared and disappeared in moments. 

You leaned in to murmur a string of words in his ear. He did not let go of your hand.

“Can we get out of here?” You leaned back and Spencer rubbed his thumb across your hand as he nodded. 

You took your belongings off the table and got up from your designated corner.

You got up to leave and say bye to your coworkers for the night, walking swiftly with Spencer over to the B.A.U. agents. You raised a hand to everyone and smiled as they awkwardly raised a hand to say goodbye. You looked to Spencer and he was just as confused. 

Why was Rossi looking at your forearm?

Why were Derek and Penelope watching with their brows creased and mouths open?

Why did Emily and Hotch stop their conversation so abruptly?

And why exactly was JJ covering her hand with her mouth as if trying not to let out a laugh?

That was when Spencer realized that he forgot something.

He forgot to let go of your hand.

[phonecallwithsatan]

:(

that meme, but reid

[phonecallwithsatan]

Picture

a.n.: Hi everyone<3 I am currently listening to: Stay True by Men I Trust. I was feeling so down today but I tallked with some friends and now im cranking out Spencer Reid fanfictions at two in the morning. I hope you all love this idea!!

Reader finds something they were not expecting to find among Spencer’s belongings. Fluff, .8k words, short & sweet. Gender Neutral

✬

“Y/n, can you get my wallet from our room?” You finished off the last lines of your book so you wouldn’t lose your page as you smiled at the use of “our.” 

Spencer had found out about Amazon Prime last night after a package came to his-- well, now your apartment. He added about thirty different books to his wishlist, and five of them were coming tomorrow with a click of a button. “Actually, just bring my card. Please.”

You got up from the couch and ran a hand through his hair as you did, feeling his locks go through your fingers. You let go and you felt him humph from his position on the loveseat.

A few steps later you got to your shared bedroom. Spencer always forgets to turn the lights off, you thought to yourself. He kept his wallet in either his pants or jacket pocket or his satchel so you scanned the room for either of those options.

You spotted the brown satchel and you walked over to its position on the foot of the bed. You crouched down to it and flipped it open and spotted his wallet.

It was a basic black leather wallet that fits perfectly in your palm. You flipped it open to search for his Visa. That was when you saw it.

A photo Spencer had taken of you on his bed. You remembered this day because it was the first time you had spent the night at his house. You pulled the photo out of its hidden spot to examine it some more.

It was an impulsive decision to stay over because he didn’t want you to leave and neither did you. You didn’t bring any clothes and he gave you a dark blue Caltech t-shirt that was a bit big on you. 

You remembered when you took this photo because he caught you totally off guard. You were reading a novel you picked up from his bedside table upside down to see how long it would take for him to notice. You didn’t know, but he was taking photos of you. 

You were on his bed with your head and back propped up against the headframe, legs laid out with your left knee propped, the blue t-shirt, and an upside-down novel Spencer was reading at the time.

This one was his favorite out of the bunch. It was why he had it printed out you guessed. 

You stared at the small photo in your hands- not as small as a passport photo but smaller than a basic polaroid photo. You didn’t know he had this printed out and on him at all times. Roughly said, the photo was taken over three years ago.

You pushed the photo back into the place it was in and you took the visa out of its section. 

“Y/n, I have forty minutes left before my one-day shipping ends!” Spencer yelled from the other room and you snorted while placing the wallet back into his satchel. You turned the lights off in the room and walked out to where Spencer was.

You gave him the card and he muttered a small thanks without tearing his eyes off the screen. You didn’t understand why you had to bring him his card though, he has an eidetic memory so technically he would have remembered the numbers. Regardless, it wasn’t a hassle. You actually ended up finding something super cute.

“Done. Arriving by six tomorrow. Will you be home?” He stretched an arm out across your shoulders and you scooted over to him.

“Yeah.” You turned to look at him and you touched his cheek with your right hand while the other was placed in between your thighs. “How long have you had that photo in your wallet?” 

He didn’t really respond to your inquiry. He just smiled and looked down at his computer, closing it with his right hand as well.

“I wasn’t expecting you to find that,” you smiled at him as he looked up. “Does it bother you?” You shook your head no and let him continue.

“I printed them out the next day on my way to work. I even have one on my desk.” He laughed as you scolded him for having a photo of your bare legs on his desk where his coworkers pass every day.

“It doesn’t bother me at all.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek and opened up his computer to look at more Amazon finds as you two spent the rest of the night expanding your Wish List.

[phonecallwithsatan]

The Louvre 

a.n.: I just finished my APUSH homework so of course all my attention goes to Tumblr HEHEH I love it. A little backstory on this one; I have been trying to find out where exactly this particular show this epiosde is from for maybe my whole life. Literally, I saw a part of this episode when I was maybe six or seven and I can’t get it out of my head. Keep in mind that I’m only 16, my whole lifespan so far has been me trying to think of where this episode came from. Finally, I cracked it. It’s from Bones. ENJOY <3 LMAO 1k word angst but its funny LMAO IDK minor swearing :)

Reader walks home to Spencer sobbing on the couch over a TV Show that always makes him cry.

✭

You had spoken to Spencer over the phone before coming home and he sounded fine, truly. He sounded like his normal self. He even started to explain a new book he had finished today after work.

You had been on the phone for the whole visit span at the supermarket. You had to hang up because it was time to check out. Your call log stated that you two-- more or less he-- had been talking for two hours.

And with all this information, you still did not expect to walk in on your boyfriend hysterically crying from a TV show.

When you walk into your shared apartment you’re greeted with the kitchen to the left and a plain wall to your right. When you look forwards, you get a view of the couch from the back and a television facing that. 

You slammed your bags down and saw Spencer sitting on the middle of the brown leather couch.

This is the sixth time you’ve caught him crying at the storyline of a TV show. Last week it was Grey's Anatomy. Earlier this week it was Chicago Med. And now it was Bones that made him sob. 

“Damn it, Spencer!” You walked over to him and saw him curled up on the couch now sobbing even harder because of your reaction. “This is the second time this week!”

He looked up at you and you never knew how to react to those eyes. You would expect him to be more nonchalant and immune to emotion because of his profession, but it just didn’t withhold when it came to medical TV shows.

“y/n, I can’t.” He was barely able to choke out a few syllables. He broke down once more after those words, closing his eyes and putting his head in his hands.

You took a deep breath and recognized Doctor Brennan on the screen after turning to the left to look at the TV. Spencer’s wails played in the back. 

You took the remote and put it on pause. 

“No!” Spencer yelled and you were in complete disbelief. You let a laugh slip out and continued to stare with wide eyes and an open mouth. You handed him the remote.

“You don’t understand,” he began to explain but it was a bit hard to understand because every word was covered with sniffs and sobs in between them.

“All this young girl wants to see is the Louvre,” he sniffs once again and his voice breaks when he looks at the TV. You were still in complete shock.

“And look, y/n.” He pressed play and his hand flew to his mouth. Tears began to fall again. “Angela is making that happen.” He broke down but kept his eyes glued to the screen.

You watched as the young and dying girl views the Louvre in Paris through a VR set that Doctor Montgomery created for her. 

You tore your eyes away and watched Spencer go into a back-breaking hunch that always left you confused. He was still crying, just quieter this time. You slowly sat down next to him and relaxed so he wouldn’t be so stressed. 

He spoke up again and you put a hand on his shoulder. You’ve learned to listen and calm him when a TV show hits him too hard with emotion.

“She- Amy!” The ‘Amy’ in his sentence was so strained with outburst emotion. You just continued to attempt to soothe him. “Amy.” You nodded.

“Amy, sh-she was given a cancerous leg transplant, y/n. And she is only fifteen, and she wants to fall in love and visit the Louvre in Paris, and she can’t y/n, because of him! The t-transplant. And look,” he points to the screen. The finger that was pointed was shaking.

“Angela- Doctor Montgomery, I mean. She made it for her and just, just watch y/n.” 

The girl-- Amy, as Spencer insisted earlier-- was virtually walking around the museum in France. Spencer shook his head and you pressed your lips together so you wouldn’t let a laugh escape. You covered your mouth with your hand.

You weren’t laughing at the show, of course. Everyone feels remorse. But rather for the overreaction from your boyfriend. Keeping touch with your emotions is important and healthy. Early on, you had to explain to Spencer that suppressing emotions is unhealthy. This however, is an overreaction that you’ve never witnessed before. Ever. 

“Well, Spencer,” you removed your hand from your mouth. “Aren’t you happy that she got to see the Louvre at least?” You rubbed his shoulder and moved your head down to get a better look at him. The credits began to roll and he looked at you. He was so puffy.

“Hmm?” You mused and he nodded. Slowly, at first. He started to hiccup too, just like a baby.

“Yeah, you have a point.” He was very quiet and the sobs stopped. Now just a light tear fell down.

“Stop getting yourself worked up over these shows, Spence, please.” He closed his eyes and his bottom lip jutted out. He nodded again and he looked like he was on the verge of tears again.

You stuck out your arms and he fell into you, pushing you back into the couch with Spencer clinging to your body with his head on your shoulder. 

He sniffed once more and you began to play with his hair a bit. You knew he liked that.

“Ugh,” his voice was a bit muffled, “I have to stop watching these shows.”

You laughed and kept him close to you. It seemed like the only way he would calm down.

[phonecallwithsatan]

reblog if you think sign language should be taught as a language in schools.

🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

[phonecallwithsatan]

Letter

a.n.: SURPRISE another new character that does not fit with my profile photo. This is for my very dear friend who enjoys a certain Sarah Paulson. To anyone new reading this, welcome! To those coming back, nice to meet again. 

Reader and Mildred Ratched live a secret life in Lucia, California. All is well, truly, until reader walks in on something she did not expect. Angst central. 3.8k

★

“Go home, baby. Don’t worry about us. It’s fine.” Your partner of three years, almost four, was severely under the weather and looking even paler in the cyan outfit your shared job required as uniform.

You and Mildred were tucked away in a hallway where you could talk in confinement away from all the other patients and staff. You took a hand to her forehead and noticed how warm it was. You slipped the hand to her cheek and held it there, hers going up and holding it softly, sinking her head a bit into your palm.

“Call me a cab. You can take the Ford home.” Mildred heard some footsteps coming from down the hall and she quickly let go of your hand after kissing you ever so lightly as to not smear her red color on your black lipstick. You said goodbye and let go of your partner, walking away first with your white heels clicking on the linoleum floor with every step you took away. You hated these heels with a passion but it was part of the uniform. The black heels you adored were stashed away in the teal Ford you and Mildred shared. 

You smoothed out your dress while you were still walking and did not turn around when you heard Mildred walking after you a few steps behind. You were deeply in love but you still kept the relationship a secret from your coworkers. 

Once you got up to reception you located the phone and dialed the cab number. While it was ringing, you went up to your neck and touched the necklace Mildred gave you for your birthday a few months ago. You fidgeted around with the little heart that hung around your neck with a photo of you two inside of it. 

The attendant picked up after six rings. 

“Hi there, a cab at Lucia State Hospital, please.” You looked up and saw Mildred walk behind the desk by you and you smiled. 

“Alright, I have a driver headed there now.” She ended abruptly. 

You turned with the heels on your shoes to face Mildred.

“They said it would come shortly.” You tried reaching for her hand but she pulled back quickly. You had forgotten that no one knew. 

“Thank you, y/n.” Her quiet voice barely made it over to you and she could tell you were disappointed in the lack of physical touch. Seeing this, she decided to push your necklace back into your collar. Mildred looked to the side almost to pretend to be looking for the cab you had ordered her but you knew she was just checking for people around. 

You were tired of hiding, truly. But there was nothing you could really do. Besides it all, however, you were lucky just to have her. You turned to look at her point of direction and you saw the cab roll-up.

“I’ll see you later, M.” You turned back around and gave her purse over to take home. She opened up her purse and gave you the key for the Ford.

“Do you have money on you?” She nodded and you sent her off, looking over the desk as she walked away with confidence in her step even though she was hiding her own life away from the people she ate lunch next to.

The doors opened and you decided to get back to work. Only six more hours. 

★

Eight o’clock rolled around and you were ready to head home after saying goodbye to all your coworkers. You hadn’t heard from Mildred through a phone call so you decided to surprise her with flowers, just because.

You took the keys out of your purse and you walked to the car. As you reached it, you popped the trunk open and took out your beloved shiny black heels. You sat down in the trunk and slipped the white ones off, throwing them worthlessly and carelessly behind you. You snorted to yourself and decided to leave them there until tomorrow’s shift. You pushed your feet in one by one after closing either clasp on them and you closed the trunk when you were done.

Luckily, you knew how to drive well in heels too.

The engine powered up and you headed for the store that was closest to you and Mildred’s home. You were frequent there since you took the liberty to do most of the shopping for the house.

You loved this store because of its broad selection of arrangements, ranging from daisies to carnations, hydrangeas available any time of year, and iris’ that brightened up your home.

The Ford was parked close and you walked in headed straight to the florals. You were mesmerized by the selection as you ran your hands through some of the flowers, holding your purse close to you and your lips pursed slightly as you made your selection.

“Are we shopping for anyone in specific today, Miss?” You turned and saw the attendant come closer to you.

You heard Mildred’s voice in your head saying that ‘it’s a small town, don’t,’ and you decided to throw a white lie.

“My best friend. She isn’t feeling well.” You watched as the attendant unsubtly scanned your face. Her eyes flickered from your bold lipstick up to your piercing eyes, switching back and forth until you couldn’t handle it anymore. You cleared your throat and she finally responded.

“How about some tulips? White, maybe? Or you might like something… bolder.” You cocked your head to the side at that comment and you took a step closer to the attendant. 

“Maybe you could get me twelve stems of those red roses back there.” You turned a bit and pointed at a bouquet of roses behind the lady. She strained her neck to look and as she did her brows were furrowed. 

She began to walk towards them and she spoke once again. “Best friend, you say? Aren’t these a bit too much?” She took them out of their temporary holding space and you withheld yourself from snapping. 

Her back was still turned towards you as she wrapped them up for you. As she was, you took a twenty out of your wallet. 

As she turned around you noticed her still staring at you in a very unsophisticated manner considering she was a sixty-year-old woman working at a market for four dollars an hour. 

She handed you the roses and you pushed the twenty on the table beside you. “Keep the change, ma’am.” 

You turned slowly enough the see the look on her face and you smiled to yourself as you walked to your car with the roses in hand.  Mildred loved red. 

You placed them on the passenger’s seat and began the short commute home. You fiddled with the radio in the dark and you came home within minutes. As you were pulling into the driveway, you noticed a car you didn’t recognize. Maybe one of the neighbors was having guests over and they had decided to park on your side of the lawn. Strange, you thought.

You switched over from drive to park and you turned the key to the left. Your home was dimly lit, even at 8:30 when you two would normally have dinner or read together. Instead of lit up windows that faced the street you were greeted with two out of the three being dark.

You took the flowers and purse from the seat and you locked the car before opening the door of your home. You yelled out for Mildred who could have been anywhere in the house. A different black pair of kitten heels greeted you at the front door instead. Those were not yours and they definitely did not belong to Mildred.

“Mildred, baby? I’m home!” You yelled once more while kicking lightly at the shoes. Placing your purse down on the kitchen table, you followed the light down the hallway that was peeking out from the crack inbetween door and carpet. 

“M?” This call was quieter. It was surreal and realizing as to what was happening around you. It was barely above a whisper. The roses were still clutched in your hands as you reached for the gold door handle.

There was music playing from a stereo you had bought for the house. It was the first purchase you had made under this roof, and your lover was using it for someone else.

Infront of you laid Mildred and an unknown person in your bed. They were too busy to notice you walk in on their space. It seemed like that was how they prayed, in a shared bed that was no longer.

“Mildred, you deceiving wrench, you-” They turned around and almost like a movie deferred away from each other like two negatives. Her red lipstick was smeared all over the stranger’s face which even trailed down to her body. The sheets barely reached over her and a migraine began to form when you saw red trail down her neck to torso. Your hand flew to your mouth and your hand unconsciously gripped the flowers with a grip that was only familiar when you had to grab a patient.

“Y/n, hold on,” Mildred tried to explain but you moved faster and threw the flowers against the wall. Tears were becoming and you looked at the two that were still somehow entangled. 

The flowers flew apart from their wrapping and landed in different positions on the floor. You were screaming at this point. 

Your own lover. Your partner. Your lady. Your wife, even. This was your best friend, the person who hung up your jackets and the person who read outloud to you when your voice was gone. That same person didn’t even bother to change the sheets.

“You,” reached down and took the locket in your hands before tearing it off and walking over to them. “You, skank,” you shoved the necklace in the stranger’s face from inches away, “get the fuck out.”

She didn’t budge. 

“Now!” You screamed and you heard Mildred yell back. The stranger got up, naked and covered in red. You turned your eyes away.

“Don’t talk to Gwen that way, y/n-” she wasn’t able to finish her sentence because you slapped her. Hard and across the face. So hard that she turned to the right to stare at Gwen.

“I didn’t know Gwen was so close to you, Mildred.” You turned to Miss Gwen and you were almost unable to hold yourself back from attacking her.

“Gwen, get the fuck out before I figure out who’s ring that is.” The ring you were mentioning was on her left hand and was obviously not from Mildred. As much as you hated and despised her soul at the moment, she would never buy a ring like that one.

Gwen was practically sprinting at this point with clothes in hand. Funny enough, she was clinging onto the locket Mildred had given you.

“Y/n, hold on, please-” you interrupted her.

“Can’t you say anything else, M?” You closed your eyes the minute you called her by her nickname. Mildred was up from the bed and was frantic to cover her self up with the white sheets you two had slept and loved in.

You stared at her. You waited for an answer. But nothing came out. Just prolonged staring and smeared lipstick coated your eyes.

You walked up to her once more. You waited and waited, but nothing. She tried reaching for your hand but you repeated your earlier move and hit her once more. 

“Don’t you dare, Mildred. Don’t you dare and try to justify anything you have done.” Your finger was pointed towards her. 

You walked out of the room and slammed he door. You heard it open but you ignored it as you were halfway down the wall.

“Y/n, baby-”

“Do not.” You spoke clearly and commanding. You reached the closet that held some coats and you grabbed a few. You moved down and felt her presence float around you. 

You grabbed your purse and some shoes. You were not staying here tonight.

She grabbed your arm and you turned to look at the cheater who had accompanied your walk.

You two just stared at each other and her grip tightened. You shook your arm to let it loose but she would not budge.

You let your eyebrows relax and you mouth untighten. Her eyes stared deep into yours but you could just tell that there was nothing left between you two. Nothing could repair this. You shook it once more and didn’t break eye contact until she let go.

You slammed the closet door before walking out and you opened the door. Mildred followed.

She was saying something but it’s hard to register when the rage blows through your nose and ears.

You walked over to the car which you two shared and you threw your belongings in the back seat and the hopping in the front. You locked the doors before Mildred could get to you. You watched her through the window as she pleaded for you. You turned the key to the right and put the car in reverse. She ran to the back and held on to the trunk of the car. You could see her in the rear view mirror and she was not giving up without a fight.

Unknowing of what to do, you decided to scare her instead. Still in reverse, you pressed the break and the gas at the same time to rev the engine a bit and create a sound that would startle her. It worked, and she jumped to the side after you did that maneuver. Now that she was gone, you were able to safely back up.

Your tires squealed as you exited the driveway and you watched her sit in silence. The sheets had turned to brown shreds and all you could do is stare in amusement. 

There was nothing left as you continued down the road with your headlights shining bright and your rearview mirror regretfull. 

★

You had been driving all night from Lucia only to end up in a motel somewhere in Nevada.

You had gotten a decent nights, or days, rest and contemplated where you could end up staying for the rest of, well, life at this point. Luckily you had some cousins in Colorado. You were just hopeful that your now borrowed Ford would get you there with no problems. 

The room was alright as far as the hotel clerk would know and you were able to pay and leave.

The blue Ford was waiting for you patiently and it was ready to keep moving. You hopped in and searched for some sunglasses in the glove compartment. You were sort of just digging blindly.

Instead, you found a letter. You took it out and saw your name written on it in the one and only Mildred’s cursive handwriting. Your neatly applied black lips tightened a bit and you closed the glove compartment after successfully finding a pair of cat eye shades.

You spun around the folded letter a bit and you contemplated what to do. It definitley was not placed after yesterdays events, but not before. How long was this sitting here?

You decided to open it besides it all.

Ripping it open, the letter inside read as following:

Y/n,

Four years with you have been passionate, lustful, insightful, glorious, and most of all, beautiful. Maybe it was the eyes, or perhaps the words, but you’ve found a way to tie me down and I wouldn’t leave even if I was forced to. You could shun me, and I would still love you. You could spit, kick, loathe, hit, and run me over, and I would still come back. 

I had always thought that settling down with someone would mean protruding coprimises and mandatory family dinners, but you changed that, y/n. You’ve changed my perception of love and desire. The moment you walked into Lucia, I knew I had to have you.

I understand how difficult it can be to hide what we have but I want to change that. I don’t want to resist holding your hand when we walk past our neighbors and I don’t want to lie and say I’m living with my friend from High School. I promise you this isn’t forever, just temporary. Believe me, I will do everything to change that.

I want to give you this not because I have to, but because I want to. I can’t stand deceiving you so please believe me when I say that these words come from the heart and soul. Understand that, please.

I never knew I could care for someone this much. 

You’re my once in a lifetime; you’re the one, y/n. 

Always with love, yours truly, 

Mildred Ratched.

The inconsistent words made you laugh to yourself. 

You took the paper and crumpled it in your hands. Your windows were already rolled down and you threw it out the passengers side. It rolled around a bit but eventually settled. 

Placing the car in reverse, you backed out of your spot. You took your sunglasses and pushed them up a bit before placing the car in drive and running over the letter.

[phonecallwithsatan]

blurb: y/n painting spencers nails?

part 2

cw: just fluff :)

wc: .7k

masterlist

________

You’re hanging out at your apartment with Spencer one lazy Sunday afternoon, not putting any particular effort into anything and just existing in the same space together. 

You glance down at your nails and notice the polish is chipped, so you resolve to give yourself a new paint job - you’re not doing anything except watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy (and giggling when Spencer points out the medical inaccuracies), so you figure you might as well. 

You haul yourself off of the couch and into your bedroom, looking through your modest collection of nail polishes before selecting a pastel green shade you picked up on a whim a month or two ago and still haven’t tried yet. 

You gather your supplies and bring them back to the living room, re-situating yourself on the couch and getting ready for not being able to touch anything easily for a while. 

Spencer looks up at you over his book and you realize he hasn’t actually seen you paint your nails before - of course, he’s noticed the polish (his favorite is a matte lilac shade you started wearing more often after he mentioned that he likes it - he’s made an effort to match his tie to your nails a few times too, and you think it’s adorable), but he’s never watched the process that goes into achieving colored nails. 

He’s completely enraptured by it - you know because he’s completely stopped reading his book. He tends to like methodical, repetitive tasks, so you’re not surprised at all that he likes watching. What does surprise you is him asking, “Can I try?” in a soft voice just as you’re finishing up.

At first, you think he means he wants to paint your nails, but as soon as you notice him glancing between his own hands and the bottle of polish, you realize he wants to paint his. You’re careful not to let the surprise show on your face - you imagine he’s internally fighting ‘boys can’t paint their nails’ or something like that, and surprise would only reinforce that narrative - and you reply, “Yeah, of course! Just wait a sec for mine to dry a little so I can help you,” with a grin.

His nervousness grows during the interim, and by the time you’re ready he’s fidgeting in his seat, rubbing his palms over his thighs in a consistent pattern. You want this to be a good experience for him, so you suggest, “If you’re not sure about the color, I have a clear polish you can try first?”

He nods immediately, un-tensing at the suggestion, “Y - yeah, that sounds good.”

And so Spencer Reid wears nail polish for the first time - just a clear coat that leaves his nails slightly glossier than normal, but still. He knows it’s there, and you know it’s there, and no one else has to know if he doesn’t want them to. 

He spends the rest of the afternoon glancing down at his hands and smiling every so often, and you know it won’t be long before he’s asking you to help him pick out a color.

…

The next weekend, after a very lovely museum date, he suggests returning to your apartment instead of his even though it’s further away. Practically as soon as you unlock the door, he’s speeding over to your bedroom and staring intently at your nail polish collection, furrowing his brow as he tries to pick out a color.

You wait patiently while he makes his decision, smiling a little to yourself when he gently pulls out the lilac polish he loves so much. You apply it just as carefully as the first time, glancing up every so often to admire the content expression on his face. 

He absolutely loves it, can’t seem to stop gushing about it to you, “(y/n), I just realized this color is the exact same shade as my favorite tie! I think I’ll wear it on Monday…Do you think Garcia will like my nails? She’s the only one who noticed the clear polish, so she’ll definitely notice this - I think she’ll like them, I really like them - do you like them?”

You grin and reply, “I love them, Spencer,” knowing this is just the start.

[phonecallwithsatan]

Rain

a.n.: ugh sorry for my leave of absense. was depressed. something new... now writing for Spencer, i hope yall like it! if youre here, hey, if youre not, welcome back! <3 gender neutral fluff, maybe at 1.5k 💛

y/n surprises Spencer with his favorite book amidst admiring his hair while sitting in the car with rain pouring down in D.C.

✩

Being the Representative for D.C.’s at Large Congressional District was your dream job, and is your dream job. It does however leave for no free time, but today was different.

You were able to take off surprisingly earlier than usual, which led to a rare night off. Luckily your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, also had a free night from the B.A.U., something that was also rare for his line of work. You were planning to meet him at his apartment at 6. 

The leaves on the sidewalk had turned into mush piles of orange and red as your boots walked through piles of water and leaf-mush. You were walking to your all-time favorite book store in D.C., the one Spencer had taken you to countless times.

You looked up and saw that the already darkened sky from the Autumn weather had clouds rolling in, leading to more rain. Luckily you were already at the book store, stepping in and brushing your boots off on the doormat at the entrance of the store.

“Hi, Grace!” Your favorite sales clerk was working today.

Grace looked up from her book and smiled at you. “Hey, y/n. We got some new shipments, do you want to look through them? I haven’t put anything new out yet.”

“After I look around if you’re not busy? I’m kind of in a rush,” you looked down at your watch and saw that it was 5:30. You may not make it for your date at Spencer’s apartment. 

Grace nodded and you carried on into the depths of the bookstore, cascading your eyes on the different colors of the book spines, some cracked, some not, and some nearly falling off. 

You plucked Fahrenheit 451 off the wall and recognized the cover to be from the 70s, smiling at yourself because of the glorious find. You’d always known this bookstore had amazing books, but not something like this. This was your favorite book, and you probably owned copies, but not this one.

Ray Bradbury was displayed at the top, followed by the title, finishing off with a woman’s face at the bottom, lit up in between a blaze of fire coming from two books. Spencer would freak out if he saw this, you thought to yourself.

You had decided to look for his favorite book too. 

Still under B in the book store, you searched through more of Ray Bradbury’s work until you found your boyfriend’s favorite- The Illustrated Man. 

You found two copies. One which was the other that Spencer kept around his house all the time, and one that had a particular cover you hadn’t seen before. Pushing the other book back into its spot, you tucked Fahrenheit 451 under your arm and flipped to the first few pages. You gasped at the publishing date. 1951. An original.

Spencer would be running circles if he was next to you. You looked down at your watch when the thought of Spencer came to your mind. 5:51, read the clock. You took the book and walked up to Grace who asked you for the new shipment once again.

“Not today, Grace,” you said as you placed both books on the counter. You looked outside as Grace was ringing the books up and explaining the significance. Rain. Hard, pouring rain, ruined your chances to get to his apartment at a reasonable time and pace. You were planning to take the Metro to his apartment but those plans were diminished when you saw the bolt of thunder paint the sky a slight white for a moment.

“$9.53 for today, y/n.” Grace said. She must have not known about the covers, even though she had just explained the history. 

You gave her your card and she fiddled with the new system. You took this time to call your boyfriend. He never said no to picking you up.

The phone rang once when he picked up.

“Hey, y/n. Where are you?” He asked not-so-patiently. 

“Spencer, can you come pick me up? I’m sorry but it’s raining, like, really hard over here. I’m still in the city.”

Your man stuttered and you heard him run to get his keys.

“Yeah, where are you? I’ll come.” The keys jangled in the background.

“I’m at Second Story,” you said. You knew he would be mad.

“Without me?” You heard the door of his apartment open.

“I’m sorry, Spence, I was in the area.” 

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He hung up and you went back to Grace. She was wrapping up the books and the machine was screaming for you to take your card out of the chip reader. 

You took it out and placed it in your wallet. You loved this place mostly because of the atmosphere, first off. The second was because of the memories you had with Spencer.

Grace carefully wrapped the edges of your book with the brown wrapping paper that you knew and love. It was her special touch.

“Hey, while you’re wrapping those, can I look through the boxes?” She looked up and nodded. You turned and knelt down to open the first box. You picked up a few biographies, some cookbooks, and a Sci-Fi novel with an interesting cover. Just as you were about to pick up the book, your phone started to buzz in your pocket. Spencer. 

You got up and saw a text from Spencer. Here.

You thanked Grace and grabbed the books from her hands. “y/n, I marked 451’s wrapping on the side so you don’t mix them up.” You thanked her once again.

 Pushing the door of the bookstore open, you scanned for Spencer’s blue Volvo. You finally saw it parked with its signature circle headlights shining bright way at the end of your street. You began to walk through the hard and cold rain and quickly tucked the two books in your coat so they would not get ruined. 

You were still far from the car but you saw Spencer get out and walk to you. 

“Spencer!” You called out, confused as to why he was getting himself all wet. 

You were getting closer to the car but further from dry clothes. Spencer smiled at you and opened the car door, making you grin at the gesture. You sped up and cupped your hand to his face mid-stride before getting in the car. He closed the door after you placed your right foot in the cars interior.

He jumped around to get to the driver’s side and you waited for his expression for when you gave him the book.

Spencer got in and closed the door before smiling at you. He leaned over and kissed you, not too eager but also not too light, you took one hand and cupped his face once more before pulling away. He didn’t move from his position and placed a hand on your leg.

“Thanks for coming to pick me up, I got you something actually.” You took the books out of your coat’s protection after he said, “of course.”

You made sure his book did not have the marking on it before giving it to him. Spencer took his hand off your leg and took the book in his hands before shedding the wrapping off. 

He looked up at you, then down at the book, just to look up once again.

“y/n, you found this in Second Story? I can’t- thank you, y/n/n,” he cut himself off before flipping through the pages and back to the beginning to look at the publishing date of his favorite book.

He kissed your forehead and you felt his hair drip on your face and you made a face and you looked up at his half wet and half dry hair. His expression changed when he saw yours. He quickly forgot though and he went back to analyzing the book you picked up for him.

Rolling your eyes, you lifted your hand and ran it through his hair, previously slicked back which was now hanging down in sections. You pushed it back and past his ear, going back to tuck it in so it wouldn’t pop out again. You took this chance to go ahead and go back up and comb your fingers through his damp hair and watch it separate and slick back because of the water.

Raindrops hit the glass infront of you while the wipers worked hard.

Spencer’s hair was one of the first things you had noticed about him when you had started dating. He liked to style it in different ways but he always played with one piece that stayed behind his ear. That piece would always pop up while he was working, reading, writing, you name it. Even now, it had managed to escape.

You took this particular piece and began to lightly twirl it around in your fingers. You leaned in a bit and leaned your arm a bit on his body to get a better look at the book in his lap. He analyzed the pages and you were very pleased with the outcome. You spun around the slightly curled piece and ran your hands once again through the side of his head, tucking the piece in behind Spencer’s ear where it usually stayed. You smoothed it down by using the backs of your fingers. Your thumb grazed his cheekbone as you once more moved it up to secure the piece in.

He was flipping through the pages and began to talk about the novel he had in his hands. You loved listening to him ramble.

Your hand moved to the back of his head and you ran your hand up the direction of growth, feeling the wet pieces mix with the dry ones. He explained the unrevised wording in this and that page, and you watched his dimples appear and disappear with every pronunciation of “a” and “s” that came in a word. 

You scratched lightly at the back of his head before moving onto the nape of his neck. There, you had noticed that he had gotten a haircut so there were no stray hairs. You massage lightly and then noticed him tilt his head towards you. This was his favorite. 

“I mean, look at the font. This is nothing like the ones I’ve seen before.” He continued on and you noticed that his hair dried quickly. You left his neck and moved back up to the front where a good amount of hair was dry and frizzy. 

You smoothed it out once again and heard him hum lightly. His hair was soft and had noticeable layering because of the haircut. Your fingers glid through his brown locks and you slid it back this time, taking some of the hair behind his ear with it. 

Instinctively, he took a hand to tuck it back but he met yours instead.

He looked up and took your hand from his head into his, leaving the book in his lap.

“Thank you, y/n. Truly, I just, can’t even process that this is in my hand.” He continued to talk to you about the first edition novel and your poor boy couldn’t finish his sentence as the loud thunder startled him. You laughed and watched the sky light up in various places in front of you.

“Come on, sweet boy. Let’s go home.”

“Home?” He asked.

You let home slip out in your sentence even though you probably spent a good amount of your time there. You probably slept there four times a week.

“Your apartment.” You corrected yourself. You looked away, mentally kicking yourself that you let home slip in.

“So, home,” Spencer said, looking away and taking his hand out of yours to hold onto the shift knob.

You looked back and as he switched to drive. He took your hand back to his as he turned the wheel to the left to exit his parallel parking spot. He looked over and smiled. 

“Yeah,” you responded. You took your hand out of his quickly to brush that annoying piece back behind his ear and took his hand in yours once again. “Home,” you said.