chasm

All That Matters

A/N: Okay all my works have been angst (with the exception of crack fics), so I feel the need to write some cute ass fluffy shit so I can prove to everyone that my heart isn’t a black chasm of nothing. 

Description: Everything begins to fall apart for Spencer and Y/N’s wedding day and they calm each other down.

Originally posted by sweetg


“It’s all ruined! Ruined I say!” Penelope screamed running into the room.

“What – what happened?!” you panicked.

“The flower arrangements got shipped to the wrong address, the minister is stuck in traffic, and Spencer’s pants!” she exclaimed breathlessly.

“Spencer’s pants?” JJ, your maid of honor, asked.

“He decided to go take a little walk outside –

“In the rain?” Emily cut her off.

“Yes…. And anyway, he tripped over some rocks and now his pants are all wet and muddy,” she explained.

Oh my God, oh my god. You were freaking out. You had been planning this day for two whole years and it had already gone to shit.

“No, no, no,” you paced back and forth.

JJ got up to comfort you, and Penelope started to pour a drink into a glass.

“Y/N, listen it’s okay. We’ll run to the store, get Spencer some pants. The minister is on his way and that’s what’s important,” she said softly as she rubbed your back.

“And the flowers?” you demanded.

“I don’t know……” JJ mumbled.

“WELL HOW AM I GONNA HAVE A WEDDING WITHOUT FLOWERS, JJ?” you screamed.

JJ jumped up, startled. Emily stared at you wide eyed. And Penelope started approaching you glass in hand.

“Sweetie here, this will calm you down,” she said, holding a glass of red wine in her hand.

“Penny, you’re a lifesaver,” you grabbed the drink from her hand. “Maybe all I need is a little alcohol to unwin-

SHIT! Midsentence your hand slipped, and you’d accidentally poured the drink all over the top half of your dress. The red sunk in between the lace embroidery, and bled into your strapless bra. All that could go wrong had went wrong. You sat yourself down on the white ottoman and wept.

“Y/N, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Penelope mumbled. She reached for some tissues on the table and began to clean you up.

“Stop….” You muttered. She didn’t hear you. “Oh my fucking god, Penny, stop!” you yelled.

She looked up at you, tears stung at her eyes, “I’m sorry, I was just trying to help,” she sniffed.

“I know, honey. It’s not your fault,” you sighed. “This day just sucks,” you crossed your arms.

Emily walked over to you and touched her hand to your shoulder. “Look, I know everything isn’t going how you thought it would, but think about what matters,” she consoled. “You love Spencer, and he loves you. And one day you guys are going to look back at this day and laugh.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “Will you guys excuse me for a moment?” you asked, as you began to leave the room.

JJ ran over to the door and blocked it, Penelope followed. “No, no you are not going to get cold feet right now!” JJ scolded.

“We aren’t going to let you hurt Spencer like this!” Penelope added.

“Guys, relax. I’m just going to talk to Spence,” you explained.

JJ and Penelope exchanged a look and nodded. They believed you.

“Very well,” JJ hesitated, walking away from the door.

“And Y/N,” Penelope pointed straight at you. “Don’t you dare let him see you,” she warned.

You sighed, she was always one for being superstitious. But you nodded nonetheless for the sake of appeasing her. You opened the door and made your way down a bright hallway. It was honestly beautiful, unlike the deranged bridezilla walking down it. The glimpse you got of yourself in the side mirror was horrendous. All the crying you did reduced you to a panda, your dress looked was stained, and your hair was disheveled from your constant pulling of it.

When you finally made it to Spencer’s dressing room, you extended your arm to knock on it. Before you had the chance, however, Derek stopped you.

“Woah there, Pretty Girl, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Derek, I just wanna talk to him,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m freaking out, and Spencer is the only thing that will calm me down right now.”

He paused. “Okay fine, just don’t let him see you.”

“You too?” you groaned.

“Pardon?”

“Did Penny make you all superstitious too?”

“Hey, Y/N, it isn’t about superstition, it’s just a wedding tradition,” he defended. “But go ahead and talk to your Pretty Boy, I think he could actually use you too right now.”

“Thanks, Derek,” you smiled.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he said, walking out of the hallway.

You waited until Derek was out of the clear before knocking on the door.

“Spence, you there?”

“I think so,” he whimpered.

“How are you doing?” you asked.

“Pretty bad, how about you?”

“I’m not so good either,” you replied. You crouched down so you were now sitting on the ground and hugging your knees. “I thought everything was going to be so perfect you know?”

“Yeah, me too. I ruined my pants,” he commented.

“I heard….but it’s okay. I ruined my dress, so we’re both a mess,” you chuckled slightly.

You heard him laugh as well. “Hey, Y/N, I know neither of us are the superstitious, so do you maybe want to go outside and talk to each other? Away from all this.”

“I’d love that,” you smiled. “I’ll go out the backdoor you can…..

“Window, I’ll go out the window.” He offered.

“Okay, just make sure not to fall down again,” you joked.  

“Damn you, Mrs. Reid,” he retorted.

You laughed again and headed for the backdoor. You looked around every now and then to make sure no one saw you. When you reached the door, you scanned the hallway one last time. No one. Delightful. You opened the door and immediately were greeted by heavy downpour. You squinted slightly to look for Reid. The visibility was so bad you couldn’t see anything within ten feet.

“Y/N, over here!” Spencer called out.

You turned your head around, and saw your soon-to-be husband sitting on a long white bench. You pulled up your dress so you didn’t trip on the steps and walked over.

“You look stunning,” he complimented, standing in front of him now.

“Yeah right,” you scoffed, sitting yourself down. “I look awful.”

“Y/N, you want to talk about awful? Just look at this,” he pointed to his extremely dirty pants.

“We can both be messes together,” you giggled.

“You’re my mess though,” he kissed the top of your head.

You rested your head onto his shoulder and sighed. “I lied to Penny and said I wouldn’t go see you.”

“She would freak if she knew we were here,” Spencer commented.

“Yeah, she would probably be showering us with four leaf clovers, horse shoes, and rabbit feet,” you laughed. “Why are rabbit feet considered lucky anyway? Seems weird as hell.”

Spencer wagged his finger, his classic sign before a rambling session. “The common North American myth originates from the African-American folk spirituality known as hoodoo,” he began. “It’s said that rabbit’s feet are lucky because of their reproductive habits, so carrying a rabbit’s foot was thought to help with fertility.”

“Oh, well we don’t have to worry about that for a while,” you said.

“If Garcia knew about that, I think she would give us rabbit feet non-stop. She always loves a potential godchild to spoil,” he chuckled.

“I can’t wait for that,” you beamed.

“For kids?” he asked.

“All of it. I can’t for us. I can’t wait for us to get married, to have kids, and I can’t wait for us to grow old together,” you answered.

“Me neither, Y/N,” Spencer gushed.

He leaned his forehead into yours and pecked you on the lips.

“Ready to go back inside?” you whispered.

“Absolutely,” he smiled.

You both got up, and held hands. You weren’t freaked out anymore. 

You had Spencer, and that’s the only thing that mattered.

Terminally no chill.

W Alan Palomo of Neon Indian // www.instagram.com/alan_palomo

Fujifilm Superia 400

8


Wayne Barlowe’s visions shows a man with a sublime imagination and superior technique, who so vividly described the fiery halls of the underworld, his paintings doesn’t feel like fantastical creations, but actual reconstructions of Hell, and the fierce awe it inspired in a lonely visitor…

there’s a softness in your touch
and it stuns me to speechlessness
because for you, war is a dance
war is the only dance you’ve ever known
and I wish we could have had more time


amid the chaos and fire and blood
I fell in love with the way you saw the world, the way you saw me
I fell in the chasm of your soul and your light
and to give you the strength you’ve given me
I would gladly drown in the darker half of the sea


and I wish with all my heart that I could have held you in my arms
for more than just that single night of peace
but we met and we loved in a warzone
and even though your kisses melted away the gunfire
your kisses still held echoes of the fire burning in you
and I know mine were the same


as much as we could have been lovers for all our life
I’m glad we carved out these moments
I’m glad I was able to give you my heart
and I know that you have burned me for entirety 
and I can only hope that something of me echoes

—  Unfinished stories #3 by Abby S