if druck really baited us with the queer youth centre friday clip and give us that stupid ass robin of the hood clip instead... then i'm done with this season
Hot take (I think) but Two Door Cinema Club is the Irish equivalent of Eve
so if blue devil is the den father then maybe this is a good time to introduce eddie
Flowers blooming now
Bees pollinating each one
Allergy season
•Written: Ap. 21st, 2021 || 4:06pm - 4:09pm•
lost is pissing me off becausei want to know everything without having to sit through every episode but i promised myself i wouldnt read the wikipedia episode summaries this time like i always do for tv shows
So now that stone ocean is out, all the horny jjba blogs better do their service and write about pucci
tagged by @bluejayblueskies!! thank you!! :)
Rules: write the latest line from a WIP and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.
From my post-200 amnesia au (which I promise I'm still working on, just..... so incredibly slowly.....)
Martin feels behind himself for the bed and sits heavily, hand twisting to grip the sheet once he’s no longer in danger of toppling like a house of cards.
I absolutely cannot tag 29 people, so I'll take the coward's way out and say that if you want to do this, consider yourself tagged!
It's funny: I was so focused on criticizing other aspects of Amphibia season 3A that I forgot the most obvious plot hole of all.
Seriously, is there any good reason why Anne didn't start her search for answers at the pawn shop where this all began??
Find my masterlist here. Taglist is back open, find the form here.
I am currently taking requests for holiday themed fics only. Send me a request here.
I will be trying to write as many holiday themed fics as possible over the course of December. This one is coming out the gates angsty, but the rest of my ideas are much fluffier I swear! Each fic will be named based off a Christmas song, this was named after "Mistletoe & Wine."
Summary: You’re a recovering addict and the holidays are the hardest time of year for you. So when you find yourself at an NA meeting on Christmas Eve with only one other participant, will you be able to rediscover the magic of Christmas and sobriety together?
Set around season 3.
CW: mentions of drug use (dilaudid and oxy), mentions of death of a loved one, car accidents, general angst with a fluffy ending.
WC: 2.9K
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Hindsight was a wonderful thing, Spencer thought bitterly as he clawed at his bedsheets.
Staying home for the holidays had been just what he thought he’d needed. He was a recovering addict and although alcohol had never been his drug choice, being surrounded by it didn't seem like a smart idea.
So he’d declined Rossi’s invitation to spend Christmas with him. He’d also declined JJ’s and Morgan’s. He’d had a harder time declining Garcia’s given how persistent she was but eventually he’d gotten out of that too, thinking the best idea was to stay home out of temptations way.
Hindsight was a damn bitch.
He pulled at the seam on his bedsheets and watched as the stitches popped loose. He tried to focus on that and only that. But of course his brain had other ideas.
He’d been sober for two hundred and thirty five days, seven hours and, a quick glance at the clock told him, sixteen minutes. Not that he kept count. Not deliberately anyway.
But he knew no matter how long it had been, he would always be a slave to his addiction. He would always belong in a cabin in the woods, strapped to a chair while Tobias Hankel shot him up with dilaudid.
He’d escaped the cabin, he’d tried to tell himself. But why did it never feel like he really had escaped?
It was worse when he was alone, he should have known that. He should have gone to Rossi’s or JJ’s or Morgan’s or Garcia’s. He shouldn’t have been alone today.
He finished pulling apart the seam of his bedsheet and stared at his unintended destruction for a few seconds before he jumped up from the bed.
He started pacing the length of his bedroom, his fingers busily working on picking at the hem of his cardigan now.
Dilaudid would make this better. But it would also make everything worse.
Spencer couldn’t decide which was the preferable option.
***
A gust of wind slammed the door of the old building closed behind you, causing you to jump a little. The snow and wind had picked up over the last few hours and it was looking like the weather forecasts were right, you were due a storm.
If only you’d taken your mom up on her offer to spend the holidays in Florida with her you wouldn’t have to worry about something so trivial as a snow storm.
But honestly, the snow storm was the least of your concerns.
You hated Christmas. You hadn’t always, in fact it used to be your favourite holiday. There was always something you found so magical about the holidays.
Until two years ago on Christmas Eve when your car had been plowed by a truck at a red light. You’d had serious injuries but you’d survived.
The same couldn’t be said for your fiancé. He died on impact.
It wasn’t exactly surprising after such an event that you’d become hooked on the oxycodone the doctors had prescribed for you after the accident.
Your physical wounds may have healed long ago, but the emotional pain never ended. And you found oxy to be the only thing that helped get you out of bed most mornings.
You’d been sober for nearly four months. You moved states around a month ago, needing a completely clean break from all the memories Chicago held.
The magic you used to believe so strongly in had died that night too.
But now it was Christmas Eve once more and you were without your usual NA meeting and you weren’t doing good.
That’s how you ended up here. A quick google had told you there was a meeting here tonight. And only because finding a meeting was a lot easier than finding a drug dealer online, this was where you came.
But as you cast your eyes around the empty room, it was clear the impending weather had cancelled the meeting. And you didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.
This was just fantastic. You knew if you didn’t have this meeting, if you had no one to talk to about your cravings you were going to end up using tonight. Dealers weren’t hard to find when you knew what you were looking for.
I guess I can kiss four months of sobriety goodbye, you thought heading onto the small stage area, behind the podium to the back of the room to stare out the windows.
The snow was getting heavier, you would have a hard time making it back to your apartment. Would the snow deter the dealers that riddled the streets? God you hoped not.
You suddenly felt cold so you wrapped your arms around yourself as a tear slowly crept from your eye.
This was never supposed to happen. This was not what your life was supposed to be like.
Another few tears fell and you let out a shaky breath.
“I am Y/N Y/L/N and I’m a drug addict.”
You tightened your hold on yourself as the words came out of your mouth. Of course, it wasn’t the first time in the last four months you’d said that, but knowing you were inevitably going to fall off the wagon tonight made it harder to say.
You were startled to the point a small scream left your lips when you heard a noise behind you.
You spun around on your heels as the noise continued.
You hadn’t heard the door open but maybe that’s when you’d felt cold. You stared wide eyed at the man who was giving you a slow round of applause as he took tentative steps towards you.
“I am Spencer Reid. And I am also a drug addict.” He shrugged as he stopped clapping, coming to a stop just in front of the podium. “I guess we were the only two determined enough to brave the weather to come here.”
You let your arms drop to your sides and scuffed the toe of your shoe on the floor.
“I don’t know about determined. Desperate maybe.” You were very aware you’d been crying and you quickly used the sleeve of your sweatshirt to wipe your cheeks.
He held a hand out to help you down from the small stage area. And for some reason you took it.
He was much taller than you, you realised once you were on the same level. Very slim, almost painfully so and he had heavy dark circles around a pair of intense brown eyes.
His hair was a little on the longer side and looked as though it hadn’t seen a brush in a long time. His shirt was creased and the oversized cardigan he wore over it was frayed at the sleeves.
He had a brown satchel dangling from his shoulder which he clutched with one hand like his life depended on it.
“Do you want to sit?” He motioned to the array of chairs set out in a semi circle to face the podium.
“There’s no one here.” You raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’m here. And I assume by the fact that you’re here that you’re in need of a meeting too. Two can be a meeting.”
It couldn’t hurt, you supposed. But it was likely only going to work as a bandaid and you were sure as soon as you left you would be on an oxy hunt.
But it couldn’t hurt.
You slid down into one of the chairs and Spencer followed suit, leaving an empty chair between the two of you so as to not encroach on your personal space. Or maybe he didn’t want you in his.
Silence fell over the two of you for a while, all that could be heard was the occasional whistle of the wind outside.
Spencer had his satchel on his lap still holding it firmly and you had a pretty good idea why but you didn’t mention it.
After a few minutes of gnawing awkwardly on his bottom lip, Spencer exhaled louder than was strictly necessary.
“So,” he looked at you. “What’s your poison?”
“Oxy.” You shrugged. “You?”
“Dilaudid.”
“Wow.” You laughed dryly. “Hardcore.”
“I’ve always been an overachiever.” He chuckled and it seemed like a genuine laugh.
You knew how rare they were in your situation so you found yourself laughing too.
“How long have you been clean?” You asked him once the laughter between you had subsided.
“About eight months. You?”
“Four. Well kind of. Almost four months. More like three and a half but longer than three and half but not quite four. But you know, it’s easier to just say four. But then I’m getting ahead of myself right? Because what if I don’t make it four months and I’ve told people I’ve been sober for four months. Maybe I should count days but that seems a little depressing, you know? So kinda four months. Three and a half.” You rambled.
Spencer stared at you in slight amusement, finding it endearing that he wasn’t the only one that rambled in such a way.
“Sorry I asked.” He gave you a teasing smile.
You frowned a little, chewing on your bottom lip.
“Can I ask how you ended up here? You know, an addict?” You weren’t sure if it was far too personal. You didn’t exactly have a desire to share your story so you didn’t know why you asked.
Spencer sighed and ran one of his hands through his messy hair.
“I was kidnapped by a man with multiple personalities. One of them would beat me and the other would inject me with dilaudid.” He shrugged as though it was nothing.
Your frown deepened as you stared at him, trying to work out whether he was joking or not.
Either he had a really good poker face or he was telling the truth.
“Shit.” You said for lack of anything else to say. “That’s dark.”
Spencer started chuckling again and you were starting to find it a beautiful and comforting noise.
“Yeah, it’s pretty dark. The dilaudid was the only thing that stopped me thinking about what happened to me. It helped numb the pain, you know?”
Of course you knew. It was a coping mechanism. The way oxy was for you.
“You’re preaching to the choir, man.”
Spencer watched you for a moment. It was clear he wanted to ask what had led you here, but he was too polite to actually say it.
You looked away from him, out of the window at the snow, being transported back to the night two years ago.
“Two years ago today, I was on my way home from the store, you know, last minute Christmas shopping. I was driving, my fiancé David was in the passenger's seat. We were having both of our families over for Christmas dinner and we were stopped at a red light arguing over where we were going to sit his great uncle Paul because he got handsy when he drank. The truck came out of nowhere.”
A small tear rolled down your cheek and you refused to look back at Spencer.
“I remember the lights getting closer and closer until they almost blinded me. It collided with the passenger side of the car. David died instantly.”
You finally looked back at Spencer who was looking at you with his lips slightly parted but he wasn’t full on gawping.
“I sustained some pretty bad injuries and the doctors prescribed the oxy for the pain. I liked the way it numbed me. But I guess we can’t stay numb forever.”
Spencer clearly didn’t know how to respond to the bombshell he’d just had dropped on him by a stranger.
You pushed down your sadness and plastered on a smile.
“Let’s not make this awkward.” You laughed. “Tell me something about you that doesn’t pertain to you being an addict. Tell me about Spencer Reid.”
His features contorted into a frown of confusion as though no one had ever asked him such a thing.
He chewed his lip, fiddling with the strap of his bag.
“Uh…well…” he inhaled sharply. “I’m an FBI Agent. I work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”
“Ohhh a profiler. Intriguing.” You smirked, leaning forward a little in your seat.
“Please don’t ask me to profile you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. So what else is there to Spencer Reid?”
“Uh…I have three PhD’s, I enjoy chess and magic and I love Halloween.” He was blushing ever so slightly, obviously not used to talking about himself.
You couldn’t help but smile at his slightly dorky awkwardness.
You found the fact that he was interested in magic to be interesting because you felt like you were under some kind of spell.
It had to be magic to say the least how he’d managed to get you to relax around him when you were sure you’d been tense every minute of every day since your car accident.
He had a calming aura. You felt yourself at ease and dare you say, happy?
You didn’t realise you’d been staring at him until his face turned into a frown.
“What?”
“Nothing. Sorry.” You shook your head. “Please go on.”
And so he did.
As night crept into the early hours of the morning, the two of you talked openly and honestly about your lives, something you hadn’t done in a long time.
The cravings subsided. In fact, you forgot all about your earlier state of mind.
It was amazing the difference a few hours could make. Or maybe it was the difference certain people can make.
A little while after the sun had risen, Spencer clutched his bag and stood up.
“There’s something I need to do.” He chewed his lip. “Come with me?”
You nodded and stood without a word, following him to a side room at the back of the hall and into the bathroom.
When he opened a bathroom stall you frowned.
“Ok, getting a little weird now, Spencer.” You laughed awkwardly.
He turned back to you from where he stood in the doorway of the stall. Finally his hands moved from where they’d been clutching his bag and he opened it.
He fished inside for a moment and when he pulled his hand out you saw the three little glass bottles of what you assumed to be dilaudid sitting in his open palm.
“I brought these tonight. Almost took them too. And then on my way home the snow really picked up and I ducked in here for shelter. Guess it was pretty good luck it was an NA meeting, even if it was cancelled. If you hadn’t been here…” he swallowed and unscrewed the cap of each bottle in turn.
“I know, Spencer.” You nodded. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did I would have done the same.”
He gave you a small but genuine smile before turning his back on you and dumping the contents of the three bottles down the toilet before flushing.
He moved past you and tossed the bottles in the trash can.
“Can I buy you coffee? You know, to say thank you.”
You looked down at your watch. It was a little past six am. Somehow you’d spent all night talking to Spencer. And you couldn’t think of a better way to spend the time.
“Well I mean, it’s Christmas, so I’m not sure what will be open.” You chuckled. “But I only live a few blocks from here and I have very good coffee. Assuming you don’t have plans?”
Spencer practically beamed and nodded somewhat frantically, making you laugh.
As you headed back out of the bathroom together, he slid his hand in yours, entwining your fingers.
And for the first time in two years, it felt as though you were going to be ok.
As you headed for the door hand in hand, you glanced over at him with a smile.
He looked down at you with his own smile before squeezing your hand.
Yes, there was definitely something magical in the air, you were sure of it.
As you went to reach for the door, Spencer pulled you to a stop.
You looked back at him and he was pointing upwards.
You followed his finger up and a laugh escaped your lips as you saw what he was pointing at.
“Mistletoe. Of course.” You giggled slightly, a sound you probably hadn’t made in two years.
“It is indeed.” Spencer exhaled, his free hand now finding its place on your cheek. “What are we going to do about that?”
You shuffled closer to him, moving onto your tiptoes and wrapping one arm around his neck as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“Merry Christmas, Magic Man.” You whispered as your faces inched closer together.
“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He replied equally as hushed and then his lips captured yours.
And in that small gesture, you started believing in magic again.
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Taglist -
All ships & genres -
@muffin-cup @andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @a-mended-pact @spencers-dria @sassymoon @sexy-dumpster-fire
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@frickin-bats @dreatine @adoringanakin @dr-spencerr-reidd @sleepretreat @spenxerslut @sweetandsunny @bellaswanismysoulmate @mcumorningstar @dontcallmekittens
@kuolonsyoja @radtwinkie @drayshadow @lytrc @nani-2305 @rainsong01 @malboroniightz @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @safespacespence @shemarmooresfedora
Spencer x Reader specific -
@multixfandomwriter @gspenc
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@harrysperfectdimple
I won’t be updating anything until after Christmas. Thank you for understanding. ♥️
Good on you, June Harris/Smith, teaming up with Robot to save Will.
Content! ✨✨✨
Stupid HAMPTER 👿
Narf Day feat. Mouse Nile!!
Haha! Whoops.
Nicholas: I'm not that type of person [to ask for someone to be horrifically maimed for my benefit].
Payphone: At least not yet. :)
Did you know that in 1952 the first mechanical heart was successfully used during a heart operation. The operation took place in Michigan, USA!
Like I’m not saying its in anyway related or relevant, but it’s interesting that in this season of hearts that they picked 1952 as the year Eddie mentions and why have Eddie be the one to mention it?!
Find me a christmas rom(com) movie without a character named Peter. I dare you
