BESTIE i was bored and saw that you were looking for fic inspo so i made this mood board for you! i hope it helps! 💛💛💛
HEY HEYYY
sorry this is sO incredibly late! right after this i went into a massive writing slump :( but im all good now bc i wrote this in an hour and i think it's one of my favorite things i've done so far!
wc: 881
genere: fluff so sweet it'll destroy your insides
cw: food and worrying at the end!
Finally… A Saturday with nothing to do. No cases, no one calling in from y/n’s job asking her to cover, it was pure bliss. The morning sun beamed through the curtains shining golden rays on her and Spencer’s sheets and faces.
He looks so peaceful like this. No worried crease in his brow and his jaw is slack with sleep instead of clenched with fear that comes with the job. Y/n lifts her hand to softly stroke the unruly curls out of his face. He stirs slightly but cuddles into her even more. She smiles as he says “Good morning my love” in that deep morning voice she can never resist.
Y/n shifted so she could look into his hazel eyes, filled with sleep and adoration for the girl who made his sun shine brighter. Y/n smiled and kissed the top of his head, then moved down to his nose, his cheeks, his chest… Spencer groaned lightly as he held her. Before she got too into it, she pulled herself back up to kiss his lips sweetly. Who cares about morning breath?
“Coffee?” She asked, sweet as the sugar Spencer puts in his shitty office coffee.
“Yes please…” He said in that voice again. Oh, he totally knows what he’s doing.
Y/n gets up and out of bed just for Spencer to grab her wrist and try to pull her back again. As much as she wants to stay in bed and cuddle all day, she desperately needs coffee.
“Come on Spence… If you wanted me so bad you’d follow me into the kitchen!” she said as she spun around with a cheeky smile to meet his gaze. He moved to get up and follow her and grabbed for her waist. She dodged every attempt until they finally made it to their destination. She finally gave in when she was backed up against the marble counter. Spencer bent down and to place his face in y/n’s neck and whispered
“I would chase you anywhere if it meant I was able to do this every time afterward.”
“Babe...you can’t say stuff like that so early in the morning… you'll make me cry!” y/n stuck out her bottom lip as she rested her head on top of his.
Eventually, they were able to detach from each other and make coffee. Spencer’s black with 10 pounds of sugar and Y/n’s Iced Vanilla Oat Milk Matcha Latte. Sure hers wasn’t exactly coffee and it was super fancy-sounding, but it gave her energy for the day, and that's all that matters. She offers some to spencer, like usual, he declines, like usual. He’s a creature of habit, sue him.
After Coffee and Lattes were finished and books and shows were binged, they were bored. Suddenly y/n had an idea pop into her head. She jumped up and ran to the kitchen and started rifling through the cupboards looking for her mother's recipe box. When she finally found it in the back of her dry ingredients section, she found exactly what she was looking for. Her mom's brownie recipe written on her favorite little notecards.
As y/n is going through more of her cupboards getting out all the needed ingredients, Spencer padded into the room and stood in the doorway. Y/n turned around and almost dropped the bowl she was holding because he was so quiet. He smiled at her and asked,
“And what could you possibly be doing in here that you need 3 bowls, 2 pans, and 16 various ingredients?”
y/n rolled her eyes playfully and said “Brownies for my beautiful boy… Is that a crime?”
“No, not at all” he responded as he made his way over to the filled countertop. “How can I help?”
“By sitting and looking pretty” she teased.
He laughed and rested his head on her shoulder and swayed a bit. She turned around in his embrace and decided to put on some music, oldies of course.
While she got everything prepped, mixed, panned, and into the oven; Spencer did just as she told him, he sat and looked pretty while he watched her work so hard to make the brownies perfectly. He just hoped she would let him lick the spoon.
As soon as y/n was done, she pulled Spencer up to dance to her favorite song. They swayed and spun to the music without a care in the world while their apartment filled with the smell of love and brownies.
At last
My love has come along
My Lonely days are over…
In an act of impulsivity, Spencer blew a raspberry into the side of y/n’s neck and made her laugh uncontrollably.
That’s what she loved about him most… He wasn’t afraid to be silly with her... Dancing in the kitchen to Etta James spinning on the record player and brownies in the oven. The domesticity made her heart hammer in her chest, nervous of what could be ahead for the two of them. She tried not to think about it for too long so as to not ruin the moment. Instead, she looked into Spencer’s honey brown eyes and savored the sweet moment. She wanted this to last forever and more.
bestie!!! what about spence and reader having a date where they go to the book store and they give a challenge to one another to pick the other a book and then get coffee and got to the park and read the books???
hi bestie!! ok so i got a little carried away with this one!! but here u go!
wc: 1.2k
It was a warm summer day at the beginning of June, Spencer had just arrived home from a case the night before. He was just so happy to be home to y/n. His darling girl, as he lovingly called her. They were laying in bed, Spencer awake and gazing at y/n with so much adoration, he didn’t know if he could expel it quick enough. Y/n was still sleeping peacefully. Her arms wrapped around his waist loosely and breathing light and steady.
He looked at the clock to see it was almost 10 am. He didn’t want to wake his sleeping girlfriend but knew as soon as she woke up she’d want coffee. He slipped out of her arms successfully and padded lightly to the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee. He opened the cabinet to get out some mugs. He pulled out Y/n’s favorite one. It was pink and heart-shaped. He brought out his favorite mug as well, the one Penelope gave him about a month ago. It looked plain and simple on the outside, but when you looked inside there was a little frog on the bottom. The coffee machine beeped and he poured each of them a glass.
He hadn’t heard y/n get up and make her way towards him because he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist and pull him gently backward. She rested her head on his back and kissed him through his shirt. It was an intimate moment that he wanted to last forever. He finished pouring the coffee and handed the mug to her.
“Where would I be without you, my good doctor?” she said sweetly.
“Probably still asleep and making your own coffee…” He teased while pouring creamer in hers and a metric ton of sugar into his own.
Y/n giggled at that. He was cheeky and she loved it. They made their way to the living room to enjoy each other’s company and the sweet coffee they’d made.
----
Half an hour later with coffee finished and mid-morning cuddles had y/n says with a smile,
“We should do something”
“Like what?” Spencer asks. He had no idea what she would pull out of that wonderful brain of hers.
“I propose a challenge…” She sat up still keeping intense eye contact with him. “We should go to the bookstore and try to pick out each other’s books, and if you end up liking it, the other person wins!”
“And if you don’t? What’s the penalty?” he feeds into her fun game.
“Utter shame and disappointment” she responds with a Spencer Smile, shaking her head, making him laugh.
“Alright if you want to, let’s go!” She excitedly grabs his hand and drags him to the bedroom to start getting ready.
----
After getting ready, Y/n comes out in an emerald green skirt that flows to her calves and a mocha brown button-up (one of Spencer’s she stole most likely) that she tied up to beat the heat. She added a layered gold necklace and rings plus a cream-colored bandana to keep her flyaways out of her face.
Spencer was sitting on the couch waiting for her wearing some dark brown corduroys, a beige button-down, and a vintage green and brown argyle sweater vest, and of course a pair of mismatched socks and his iconic converse. He had swapped out his contacts for his glasses today as well.
When Y/n saw him she thought he looked like a sexy 70’s professor. He looked up at her from the book he was re-reading. A large smile broke out on his face and he said
“We’re matching!” He looked like a kid in a candy shop for the first time.
“I know! And it wasn’t even planned,” y/n said with a giggle. “Promise we can take pictures later? I just wouldn’t want this outfit to go to waste!” she twirled and posed, making him chuckle. He loved her so much, and the feelings were mutual.
With that, they left the apartment and went to the small bookshop near their apartment, right next to a family-owned coffee house. They stepped inside and were engulfed with the scent of french vanilla and old books. They looked at each other playfully and split up to find each other's books.
Y/n heads straight to the Classic Literature section. She looks for Edgar Allen Poe because she knows he would read his work all the time if he could. His copy of The Complete Tales of Edgar Allen Poe was stolen last year in Florida and he never found the time to replace it. She searched and searched and almost gave up when suddenly, the cover caught her eye sitting on top of a stack of “go-backs”. She quickly grabbed it and held it tightly to her chest, as if it would grow legs and try to run away.
On the other side of the store, Spencer was rummaging through a box of vintage books that looked like they haven’t been touched in years. Y/n had mentioned only once how much she’d loved the original Grimms Brothers fairytales. She had seemed really interested in them at the time so he figured she’d appreciate some of the stories in physical form. He got to the bottom of the box and was so disappointed until he shoved that last book over to find a green and gold cover with the title The Complete Grimms Fairytales. He smiled wide and held it against his chest spine down so when Y/n eventually found him she wouldn’t see it.
They both arrived at the checkout at the same time and narrowed their eyes at each other playfully, trying to suppress their smiles. They parted ways as two cashiers started checking people out. They both got them gift wrapped as to not spoil the surprise.
Once they were checked out and together again they grabbed hands and started walking home. Y/n noticed the coffee house and said,
“Why don’t we read here?” She pointed at the cafe and looked at him with puppy dog eyes.
“Why not?” Spencer said while pulling her into his side and kissing the top of her head.
They ordered and took their drinks and headed into the outside patio area. They looked at each other in anticipation while they opened their respective bags. Y/n got to hers first and gasped. Spencer looked at her with worry thinking he’d done something wrong. She had the biggest smile plastered on her face as she practically vibrated with excitement.
“Eeee! I can’t believe you found a copy! And in such good condition too! Oh my god, Spence!” She jumped out of her seat and gave him a bone-crushing hug. He laughed at her child-like glee and hugged her back. “Ok now open yours!” she said while sitting back down clutching her book.
“Ok ok slow down” he chuckled. He took his sweet time unwrapping the book just to see her get worked up. She sat there whining and complaining about how slow he was until she heard the sound of the crackling paper stop. Spencer stared at the book for a full minute without saying a word. Y/n was worried thinking he didn’t like it when suddenly he looked into her eyes with such adoration and love that she thought she would disintegrate into a puddle right there. He stood up and wrapped y/n up with his long arms and stuffed his head into her neck and whispered,
“I love you Y/n”.
She gazed into his hazel eyes and whispered back “I love you too”
Pairing: Tasm!peter x reader (or any peter would work)
Summary: Reader recalls their first time experiencing a panic attack with Peter around to help.
Warnings⚠️: Angst, Fluff, Panic Attacks, Depression and References to Depression, definitely some good old Hurt/Comfort, brief mention of suicide, Peter being an angel (I think that counts)
Notes: This is not beta’d all mistakes are my own.
Feedback is greatly appreciated. This is based off of my experience with a panic attack which is not going to be the same as everyone. I tried to keep the reader gender neutral. This also has a past tense view as reader recalls the event.
Italics: inner monologue
Bold red: intrusive thoughts
I still don’t know what was really going through my mind that evening. I can only recall the emotional and physical pain pulsing through my body in random outbursts.
Oxygen.
I. Need. Oxygen.
In my chest, a knot tightened around my lungs, pulling tighter and tighter until I had no control over my own body. As the knot restricted my lungs and chest, the rope spread out to tie new knots around my head and limbs. The room started spinning and blurring together while I tried to force air in and out. But all I could manage were little gasps and hiccups as I began to sob uncontrollably. My hands were clenched tight, restricted by the ever growing rope residing in my body. Something heavy settled in my stomach and helped my body wage war on itself. I dropped to the tiled bathroom floor. Fear set in, and I couldn’t find a way to stop it.
BREATHE.
I know I need to breathe to avoid passing out!
I need to let this attack happen. I need to feel something again—but this is bad. I shouldn't be feeling this way.
I need help.
No, I’m just asking for attention.
How can I be asking for attention when no one is around to see me fall apart? I don’t want anyone to see me like this. This time is too bad. I might accidentally hurt myself if I can’t get a grip on reality.
I know, but I’m going to die. I can feel it. I can feel the lingering doom. Something’s going to get me.
Something is going to get me?
Something’s going to happen. I'm in danger!
I’m in my basement! Why am I so paranoid?
I’m in danger!
This is safe. I’m safe.
No! I feel death, and it’s coming for me.
I’m not going to die.
Yes I am!
No I’m not. No I’m not! This isn’t right. Nothing is going to get me. Something is wrong. What's the number of the hotline?
No! Not that one! They’ll contact the police or Peter. Isn’t it for suicide only? I’m not suicidal, and I can’t be a burden.
Okay.
Okay.
The anonymous crisis line. I can text it.
What’s taking so long? This system is a failure. I shouldn’t have to ask others for help.
This time, I will.
I tried to grab my phone, but uncurling my hands is like trying to unwind a tight rubber band. Pins and needles took over my nerves as I forced the movement. I took my time typing and retyping at least four times until I had got it right. I couldn’t call them; it would've been too real for me, so I texted instead. The volunteer for the crisis hotline introduced herself as Sara. She guided me through breathing exercises and asked me about my mental health history. I told her about things no one knew at the time.
“What could have triggered this feeling for you?” she texted me.
“I was diagnosed with depression and general anxiety a few months ago. I've been seeing a therapist since tenth grade. It got so bad my family and friends finally began to notice.”
I continued talking to her and she asked me to describe my symptoms to her .Then she proceeded to ask why I had texted. After going over the symptoms including my hyperventilating, numb hands, shaking, and fear, she revealed that I was having a panic attack.
I still can’t get air. How do I calm down? The breathing method isn’t working.
That’s okay I don’t care. I’m just overreacting to all of this.
It’s all in my head.
Damn right it is! It’s not going anywhere! No one can help. I can’t even help myself. No one even noticed my withdrawal or overall irritability. My parents didn’t care until it affected them, and I told them I thought I was depressed. Peter hasn’t notice and he never will. HE CAN NEVER KNOW.
MY ENTIRE PERSONALITY CHANGED, AND THEY DIDN'T EVEN BLINK. They didn’t notice, and they still don’t care.
They do care! Peter cares! This is serious. I need help. Therapy isn’t working anymore. Why can’t I feel genuinely content for once? Why is it always anger or sadness? Isn’t that the whole point of therapy—fuck therapy—to help me feel again? I need more help. I can’t be alone right now—but I am alone!
I am alone and no one cares! Why doesn’t anyone care? Can’t they see I’m suffering? Can’t they see my fight to do basic tasks? I break almost every night, and does anyone ever notice?
No.
No! They don’t understand; they'll never understand. I don’t want their fake sympathy!! How can they tell me they’ve been where I’m at?! This is torture. This is hell!
No, it’s not. So many people have it worse—but no one will save ME!
Nobody even knows I’m suffocating in my own head. They don’t see my constant struggles and daily battles to get up out of bed. It’s a never ending war and no one wins, so who could possibly help?
Peter, he’s the only one who might understand. Close out of the hotline’s website.
For the second time I attempted to use my hands again, but they just wouldn’t cooperate. I pressed each button carefully with my knuckles as my thumbs had completely locked up. Eventually, I made it to Peter’s contact in my text messages.
“Can you please come over it’s an emergency”
“What’s going on??! Are you okay y/n?”
“You have to come over, it's an emergency.
I’m having a panic attack I can barely text, but it's not 911.
Please.”
“Okay hold on, wait for me. I’m on my way!”
I need to pick myself up off the bathroom floor.
Clothes. I need clothes and not this old itchy brown towel. He can't see me like this.
If I go get clothes, I’ll have to try to walk. I can barely type!
I’ll go slow. I have to open the window for Peter.
That’s a bad idea.
Yeah, I know it is.
I pulled myself up off the cold tile floor, and slowly walked to my room from the bathroom. On the way I shakily open the fire escape window, I don’t know when Peter will arrive, but I can’t let him see me like this so I continue to my room.
I get my clothes and grab an oversized white t-shirt I stole from Peter a couple weeks ago; it’s got black lined sleeves and a black collar. I took my nearest pair of pants; soft and fluffy white pajama pants with Care Bears on them. I stumbled a bit, struggling to get my hands around the fabric while shaking violently. Eventually, I succeeded in getting them on and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I look like a mess.
I could dry my hair. Put some makeup on. Change again. Stop. Crying.
No, I’m tired of pretending. He's going to be here soon, no point in trying to cover up the truth. This is real and I can’t be fighting it alone.
No one needs to know I’m struggling.
Someone needs to know if I want to get better.
Fine, but I look terrible.
I know.
I returned to the safety of the isolated bathroom in hopes of sheltering myself from reality. I sit waiting while the tears fall down my flushed cheeks. When Peter got there he knocked on the door and came in to see me sitting on the bath rug covering the cold floor, tears streaming down my face as I began to regret my decision. I curled further into myself. I couldn’t stop the shaking and panic that took over me.
He's going to judge me! I just lost my boyfriend! The love of my life! Look at his face! I scared him. How could he possibly want to be around me anymore after this?
I had called him there to help me. I couldn’t be alone in the midst of my world seemingly crumbling around me. I feared he would tell me it’s all in my head. Tell me I’m not actually sick. Tell me I’m making it up, but as he got closer he did the one thing I didn’t expect him to do. Peter quietly made his way onto the small brown bath rug on the floor, grabbed my hand, and wordlessly pulled me close so he could hug me. I couldn’t stop the new wave of tears spilling out and clinging to my eyelashes.
He knows. He understands. I am not alone anymore. It’s okay to break, he’ll pick up the shattered pieces and make it whole again. I am safe right now.
He sat there and let me cry while he encouraged me to breathe with him. Slowly my lungs began to do as they were told. My hands were still clenched, but no longer numb and tingling. My mind stopped telling me I had to be strong. I wasn’t alone. I finally reached out like I should have.
“Shhh y/n, it’s okay. I’m here and I love you. I need you here with me, and I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. Remember to breathe.”
I love him with all my heart. If it wasn't for him I doubt I could’ve made it. I may never truly win the war with myself, but I won this battle, and that’s all I needed to do. I just needed another soldier to give me direction.
