#I'm gonna tag everything imaginable

[starry-bi-sky]

how do you clone a fey? that's trick question; and fey love those!

@the-navistar-carol (<333) brought up a good point while I was talking about my changeling danny au with her -- Dani! How would she exist in this au? Danny's a changeling - a fae. How would Dani, a clone of him, be created? How do you make a fey? Not through any means that Vlad is doing; you can't make a fey through unnatural means, considering the Fair Folk are nature. And Vlad's not a fey himself -- he's a halfa, even if he could make a fey, it's not in his best interest too. He's a powerful ghost, but even the weakest fae can overpower the strongest ghost. He won't want a clone of Daniel to be more powerful than him.

(In a three tier hierarchy it goes Ancients -> Fae/Mythos -> Ghosts. They all live in the Infinite Realms, but on different Planes. The fae live above the Ghost Zone in the Fey Wild, while the Mythos live beside the Wilds or down in the ghost zone depending on where they are. Places like the Frozone, the Athens Acropolis, and other such large islands climb throughout all three Planes.)

(While Ghosts can travel into the Fey Wild, its generally advised against as the ectoplasm tends to manifest differently there due to close contact magic. It can make it rather disorientating for a ghost, and as human spirits, the Fae living there would jump them faster than they could blink. So unless you're willing to play mind games with 'steal thy name eat thy face' fae, most ghosts keep out of the way of the Wilds. Fey can travel down into the Ghost Zone, they just don't bother.)

That's of course, not taking into account if Vlad even knows Danny's a fae himself. Vlad doesn't ring me as someone who really cares much about ghost culture or the going ons of the GZ. He might be aware that fae exist, but the moment he realizes he can't use them for personal gain he just doesn't bother with them. The risk is greater than the reward, and he'd rather not get eaten. But lets assume he's aware by now that Danny is fey, and has to take that into account while cloning him.

So, how does Dani exist? Good question! Honestly; i'm not sure. She might not exist at all, or if she does, she's more halfa than fey. Vlad would need a lot of human dna and ectoplasm to balance out all that fae magic. He manages to steal DNA from Jack and Maddie to do it, and since Jack's fey ancestry is very dormant its much easier to use alongside Danny's DNA.

In turn, it results in a little girl whose more human-ghost hybrid than clone. With that little extra boost in fey magic making her not a fey, but still relatively powerful. Dani is less of a clone and more of a lab-grown little sister. It's a rather tedious, complex process that has Vlad tearing his hair out trying to figure out. But he does eventually figure it out.

[somegrumpynerd]

@wickjump you will never not be an absolute genius

[mobius-m-mobius]

Lokius + being romantic foils

- @mcuchallenge - the Final: LOKI vs. Moon Knight

[ndostairlyrium]

"He's the most intelligent creature I've ever met"

I've given my baby a baby. Again << I swear I'm a cat person

Quick research under the cut <3

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

[shiraishi--kanade]

Without getting into much detail... Holy shit, spinal fusion. You know how we can't measure pain reliably and you probably can't confidently say "this is the most painful thing that can happen to a human being"? Well, spinal fusion is definitely Up There, regardless of the scale you're using.

[redgearsmovin]

and in this moment, we dance.

A Dave/Boris fic.

Summary:

Dave finds himself sharing a dance with a famous ballet dancer.

Words: 1780.

Note:

It's not mentioned but this fic is written with the headcanon that Dave is aro-spec. Unsure if that is portrayed clearly tho, or if the characters might be OOC haha. Anyway this silly little crackship has been on my mind alot, hope you like this writing of them!

You can also read it on: AO3 | SqW

* * *

As Guests of Honour, the Movers and Nina were looking forward to the backstage access. Once the other ticket holders had wrapped up their meet and greet, the five friends were brought to the VIP area, where they would meet the two dancers there.

"Boris, Oksana, your performance was beautiful!" Nina said excitedly.

"Yeah, I couldn't look away!" Scott added.

"You both danced wonderfully," Smitty complimented.

Dave took off his cap to pull out a big bouquet of red roses and handed it to Oksana. "For you," he said, putting on the hat again. Oksana grinned as she accepted it.

"Thank you Movers! Thank you Nina!" Oksana replied with a slight curtsy, and they bowed back.

"Yes, we are very happy you enjoy show," Boris said, smiling. "We love seeing you in crowd." He looked at them, and when his eyes landed on Dave, he gave him a quick wink. The gesture was met with a slightly surprised expression from the Mover, his eyebrows slightly raised. The others were oblivious to it aside from Nina who noticed, her gaze shifting between the two men. They all then continued their conversation for a little while.

"So, what's next? Are you two going back home?" Rich asked.

"We have more show next week."

"Da. We stay in your country until show is done," Oksana added. "We will love to see you all again. You too, Mousenik." She patted Warehouse Mouse gently, and the mouse cheered. "We hope to dance more in your country now that we are still the famous dancers."

"We're really glad it all turned out well. Congratulations to both of you!" Rich said happily.

"All thanks to your help too," Boris noted.

"So, great job to us too!" Rich cheered, holding his hand up for a high five.

The others got ready for the high-five as well, though Dave was interrupted when Boris handed him the bouquet and a few other gifts the dancers received from their fans.

"Please bring these," Boris said, making his way to one of the rooms away from where they all gathered.

Dave stood there for a moment, balancing the items in his hands before eventually following Boris' lead.

'At least he said "please" this time', Dave thought to himself, pursing his lips. He walked over to a table and carefully placed the items down. He let out a sigh, then looked at the dancer who was standing near a dressing room mirror. "Alright, I put all your stuff here."

"Thank you," Boris replied, flashing a smile at Dave. He placed a tube of his favourite hair gel inside the bag, along with the other tubes.

"Guess you won't be using those anymore, huh?" Dave remarked.

"Mmm, not so much, but maybe a little." Boris closed his bag and turned to approach Dave, taking proud strides. "Enough to make Boris extra handsome, no?" he said with a smirk, running his hands through his hair.

Dave took a small step back when Boris stood right in front of him. He scoffed, then shrugged as he plainly replied, "Sure."

Boris chuckled lightly, a more genuine smile forming on his face, and for a moment the Mover froze. Even if his constant self-praising were bordering on being annoying, Dave couldn't deny that the dancer was quite attractive and very well aware of it.

"One more thing I want to ask." Boris' words snapped Dave out of his thoughts.

"Huh, what?"

"Will you do honour of dancing with Boris?" The dancer asked, offering his hand.

Dave looked at it, then back at the man. He promptly glanced to his side and checked his surroundings before facing Boris again.

"Are you.. asking me?" he asked, a confused look plastered on his face.

Boris cocked an eyebrow. "Do you see other handsome man being here?"

Dave felt his face heat up, his eyes widening. "I'm not.. um.." he mumbled, trying to think what to respond. He then cleared his throat and replied, "I don't know ballet. You and Oksana saw how me and the guys danced, right?"

"I can show you," Boris said calmly, "if you like."

Dave blinked a few times, staring at the hand extended to him. Countless thoughts were running through his mind, none of them helping him decide what to do.

What's going on?

Why all of a sudden?

Why me?

Dave frowned, and Boris took note of it. He lowered his hand.

"If not, it's OK," he reassured with a smile, turning away. Dave didn't hear any hint of bitterness in those words, and his expression relaxed. He decided to not overthink it.

"W-wait!"

The dancer looked at the Mover, who spoke once more.

"I, uh, I'd like to dance."

Upon hearing his words, Boris smirked. He offered his hand again, and Dave accepted.

* * *

Admittedly, Dave still wasn't so sure about this.

Ballet music played gently across the room. The two men faced one another, hand in hand. They moved together, with Boris patiently guiding Dave in each step. They pulled each other close, and Dave was still trying to grasp everything that was happening. He couldn't help but observe his dance partner; the way his dark hair fell on his forehead, feeling the heat from his rough palms whenever their hands met, the woody scent of his perfume as strong and intense as the person wearing it.

Dave had never realized how big his dark pupils seemingly were, and he found himself staring into them. Boris smirked as he raised an eyebrow, looking into Dave's bright blue eyes in return. He began moving his legs, prompting Dave to follow as they continued. Dave swung his arms as gracefully as he could and his feet stepped wherever Boris took him.

"Well done, kotyonok. You dance very good," Boris said, grinning as he twirled Dave around.

They ended their little dance with a dip; Boris had his hand supporting the Mover's waist as Dave leaned back into it. The Mover froze again, his eyes widened as he gazed into Boris' eyes once more, their faces now inches away from each other. He could feel his heart pounding, the overwhelming mix of perfume and musk piercing his nostrils, and the warmth from the other man's body. His head was clouded, his senses almost overwhelmed. Boris observed Dave's reaction, his face slowly inching closer to the Mover. Dave's mind was racing.

Aren't things going a little too fast?

Should I lean in? Close my eyes?

This perfume is too strong. It's nauseating.

Just like in fairytales, kiss and live happily ever after.

I can't feel my legs. My face feels numb.

He swept me right off my feet! Metaphorically and literally.

The others are probably looking for me.

What a dreamy moment~

This isn't happening.

Dave closed his eyes shut, as Boris leaned more into him. He could feel the dancer's breathing on his face, and at that moment, everything was too much.

"Sorry."

Dave moved his head, leaning further as he slightly pushed Boris away.

Boris carefully pulled back from Dave, holding his hand as he helped the Mover stand up properly. Once Dave was steady on his feet, Boris held Dave's hand up to his lips and gave it a soft kiss before letting it go.

"No worry, it is pleasure dancing with you."

Dave's face was flushed, his heart still beating quick as he looked down, trying to calm himself.

"Ah, before you go.." Boris walked over to a table and grabbed a piece of what seemed to be a poster. He uncapped a marker and started writing something on it, then looked up as he asked, "What is your name?"

"Huh, oh—" Dave briefly looked down to his suit, realizing his nametag wasn't on there. "It's uh, it's Dave."

"Dave.." Boris continued writing, and Dave's eyes wandered elsewhere, still reeling from what had happened.

"Here." Boris handed over the poster, which was of him in a ballet pose, with unfamiliar writing on the bottom left which Dave could assume one of the words was his name spelt in Russian, along with Boris' signature. "If you ever miss me." He winked before going back to his bag.

Dave took a look at the poster, then pulled a face. "Um, thanks." He kept it in his hat and glanced at the door. "I should probably head back to the others."

"Farewell, Dave. Thank you again."

"Yeah, bye." Dave gave a small wave before exiting the room.

* * *

"There you are, Dave!"

Dave was caught off guard when he heard Nina's voice calling to him. The Movers turned to his direction as he approached them.

"Hey guys—"

"Hey, are you okay?" Scott interrupted. "Your face is so red, almost like your hat!"

He stepped closer, cupping his hands on Dave's face as he continued, "And it's so hot too!"

The others looked at him curiously. Dave chuckled, pushing Scott's hands off him. "It's nothing. I'm probably just tired."

"Yeah, it is getting late. And we have to leave now anyway," Smitty chimed in, petting a sleepy Warehouse Mouse who he was carrying in his arm.

The others nodded and made their way out the theatre. While walking to the Mover Mobile, Nina suddenly stopped in her tracks. "Oh no!"

"What? What's wrong, Nina?" Rich asked worriedly.

"I forgot to ask Boris for his autograph.." Nina said, pouting.

"Oh! I got you." Dave pulled out the poster from his hat, handing it over to Nina. Her eyes lit up as she unrolled the poster. "You can have it."

"Wow, thanks Dave!" Nina grinned widely and Dave nodded. The others smiled as they all continued walking.

Shortly after, Nina called out to Dave again. "Hey Dave, maybe you'd wanna keep this," she said in a quieter voice, giving him a small knowing smile as she handed a folded sticky note that was attached to the poster.

"Hm, what.." Dave hadn't noticed it there. He opened the note, then furrowed his eyebrows. "It's.. a phone number?"

"Ooh.." Nina smirked at him. "I guess someone was hoping to see you again."

"Who would..." Dave stopped his sentence, a red tint forming on his cheeks. "..oh."

Nina couldn't hold back a smile. She leaned closer to Dave as she spoke, "Anything you want to share?"

Dave cleared his throat, covering his mouth. "..not yet. I'm still.. processing it."

Nina patted his arm. "Okay then, I won't say anything about it."

"Thanks, Nina," Dave said, giving her a grateful smile.

"Let's go catch up to them."

"Oh, right!"

They both walked faster to the other Movers in front of them, eager to get back home and get some rest from a long, exciting day.

[radioisntdead]

Y'ALL WISH ME LUCK IT'S DEER Squishmellow HUNTING SEASON

[loveandthings11]

Jeremy Strong for Newsweek, 3/26/23

Not well and unsettled.

"Please, let him get what he wants this time."

So what does satisfy? Love?

[theydoctor]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers✨ no pressure tho! ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

(This is really hard btw because the last 80 reblogs in my notifications are just you and your Patrick insanity xD)

wdym i did absolutely not go insane over patrick (also you're to blame tss)

oki uhmm

- You <3

- bisexual people.

- jon & martin (except for when they make me cry)

- not dying ?

- punctual trains

[superkirbylover]

Normal peppino: Oh, I-a really don't want to-a fight, I have a business to-a run!

Pony peppino:

KILL MAIM BURN

LMAO

to be fair though i think both of them are both of these. idealy they don't want to fight people because they have a business to run, but push come to shove, if their business is threatened they WILL kill for it

in this essay this will serve as the basis as for why pony peppino absolutely despises the flim flam brothers

[fonulyn]

jesus fucking christ this fandom. one more time: Piers did not put Chris back in the field in RE6. Piers does not have that sort of an authority. who the hell assumes that he has the actual power to put his own commanding officer back on active duty??? anyone with half a fucking braincell should realize that is not how shit works. yet the amount of "uwu omg i hate piers he did chris so dirty!!1!1" posts I've seen here is STAGGERING. blaming Piers for clearing Chris back to work, blaming Piers for the lives Chris lost with his recklessness? nope. get out of here. get out of my sight.

[caseuoiseau]

So lemme get this straight.

I've spent about two years listening to a podcast (Just King Things) in which they "read the works of Stephen King in publication order," which includes a number of films, comics, and other one-off pieces of media in their bonus episodes. That pod is currently up to the mid-late 90s.

I've also been--much more slowly--working my way through the archive of a much longer-running podcast (Jay and Miles X-plain the X-Men) in which the hosts read the entire run of the X-Men books in (mostly) publication order. In my listening, Angel has just been turned into Archangel within the past 10 or so episodes, so we are in '88 or '89.

How is it that this is the way that I find out that someone got peanut butter in my chocolate in

Nineteen Eighty-fucking-Five.

Midnight Pals: X-Men

Stephen King: Submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of when the X-Men fought the literal embodiment of hunger King: it was for a charity comic Poe: oh right right of course Lovecraft: of course Barker: gotcha Koontz: wowww! x men!!

King: so kitty pryde goes to the get some food King: but then suddenly King: she starts losing weight! King: now normally King: i think that sort of this is good King: usually i think the opposite is way scarier King: but this time King: it's bad

King: what's the cause of Kitty Pryde's unnatural weight loss? King: it's the evil mutant ghost embodiment of hunger King: the monstrous force known as King: "hungry" Barker: ba ha ha ha Poe: clive

Barker: "Hungry!?" King: yeah, his name is hungry Barker: like, the adjective? King: yeah i Barker: ah ha ha ha King: i don't see whats so funny King: yeah, his name is hungry King: see, this one time he said to his dad "i'm hungry" King: and his dad said "hi hungry, i'm dad"

King: anyway the point is that its about kitty pryde King: that super hero you all know and love Koontz: i like superman! superman is the best super hero King: ha ha well dean you're certainly entitled to your opinion King: there's no reason for us to fight King: King:

Alan Moore: [appearing in a clap of thunder] who dares call upon the arch magus? King: we need you to settle an argument Moore: speak your question, mortal, and gain wisdom King: who's the best superhero Moore: Moore: do you have any questions that aren't about that

Moore: the arch magus can see through time, control the very movements of the cosmos Moore: and you dare to ask a question about comic books King: well i just thought since you love comics so- Moore: the answer is herbie popnecker King: Moore: herbie popnecker is the best super hero

King: i'm sorry, herbie popnecker? Moore: yes herbie popnecker King: Koontz: Barker: Poe: Lovecraft: Moore: "you want i should bop you with my lollipop?" Moore: haha it doesn't get old!

Moore: i must now return to my mountain fortress [disappears in a clap of thunder] King: Koontz: Poe: Barker: Lovecraft:

[chosonore]

summary: your relationship with aventurine and veritas was easy, a haven of comfort and care - it was one that started gradually but quickly became an integral part in your life. despite your anxities and worries about what people would think about being in a relationship with both of them, you couldn't imagine a life without them

a/n: i haven't written anything in two years :') this is just 1.4k non-coherent word vomit from 3am - i was listening to emei's don't know about the world and it just created this fluffy image in my brain that i needed to get out. i didn't bother proofreading this lol also please don't expect any more or consistent writing, idk how to write anymore

“hey baby, how was work?” aventurine wrapped his arms around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. you inhaled his familiar scent, instantly feeling like you were at home. he swayed back and forth with you for a bit before letting you go, opening the car door for you. “i missed you.”

“i was only gone for a couple of hours.”

“i still missed you.” he gave you a grin before starting the car, driving off to your usual groceries store. it was a routine that you’d gotten used to, one that so effortlessly made you feel safe and loved. aventurine would pick you up from work, you’d get anything you needed from the store before heading home to veritas and your three critters. you’d have dinner together, talk about your day and have a cozy night. 

when you thought about it, you still didn’t quite understand how your relationship came to be. the three of you met at uni and quickly formed an inseparable, unlikely trio. though aventurine and veritas had always been very close despite their frequent bickering, you felt like you just kind of stumbled into this. you felt confusing at first, after all, you harboured feelings for both of them. one kiss had led to another, led to dates and more. it was a relief to know that they felt the same. neither of you had really talked about it as it just gradually grew into what it was now. 

it started with you staying at aventurine’s large penthouse apartment more and more frequently until he finally asked you to move in. then one day, as you were building furniture for your shared bedroom, veritas brought home the three critters. seemingly he had felt pity upon encountering them and couldn’t separate them whatsoever, so he just took them all home. and there it was, your little family. 

you knew you loved them as they did you. but recently, you’d noticed the stares of strangers and in particular your co-workers more. heard some whisperings about your unconventional relationship and it bugged you, even if you tried not to pay attention to it. it was slowly nagging on your soul and heart, making you question the relationship. was it really that odd? or frowned upon? could you really stay in this relationship, grow old and happy together?

“i booked a spa weekend for us at the end of the month!” aventurine’s rambling interrupted your trail of thoughts. he seemed excited as he always was whenever he could spoil you and veritas. “it was about time, both of you have been way too busy. i miss having my two loves all to myself.”

you snorted, taking his hand in yours. the way he incessantly spoiled you had made you uncomfortable at first until you realized that it was one of the ways he liked to express his love. he was happy being able to provide his loved ones with anything they could ask for, so that they would never have to worry about anything ever again. you lifted his hand to press a kiss against it. “i look forward to it.”

as you entered the apartment with aventurine, you were greeted by a rather calm and comfortable atmosphere. soft music was playing and when you rounded the corner, you could see veritas sitting on his armchair with his legs propped on the ottoman. the critters were sitting around him, staring at the book in his hands as if they could read as well. it was an adorable sight, the way their heads moved along with veritas’ hand movements whenever he flipped a page, the way he pet them every now and then. you wished you could secretly snap a photo without him noticing but he always did. then he would scowl and disappear from the frame, grumbling about hating having his photos taken. you never told him that you liked the way his cheeks slightly reddened whenever you did this.

“we’re back,” you called out, placing the bags on the counter before opening your arms and catching a critter that was hopping over to you. it made happy noises as you pet it gently. aventurine put the groceries away, turning slightly to peck veritas’ cheek as he padded over to you. “thought we could make some casserole.”

“we? you mean i cook and you watch,” veritas raised his eyebrows at aventurine. 

he pouted, feigning outrage. “babe, i would never dare to! besides, i know you don’t mind.” he wrapped his arms around veritas, waddling around with him as he watched him cook. veritas would never admit to it but you could tell that he enjoyed himself by the way he leaned to the side to peck aventurine’s lips or absentmindedly held his hands whenever he was monitoring the food. you prepared the critters’ food, smiling as they crowded around you and mewled hungrily. veritas would lean over to spoon feed you every now and then, asking for your opinion on the meal before he finished preparing it. 

after dinner, you spent your evening cuddled between veritas and aventurine as you watched your tv shows together before heading to bed.

aventurine was still showering when you crawled into bed with veritas, yawning tiredly. he propped himself up on his elbow, regarding you with an inquisitive look. “what’s wrong?” he asked pointedly, the kind of tone he used when he meant business and didn’t want any kind of dodging. you knew you couldn’t lie to him, he would see right through you. your first instinct was to say “nothing” but from the corner of your eyes, you could see him raising his eyebrows.

“i’ve just been noticing the looks we get when we’re out together. people stare or give judgemental looks, you know?” you started to explain, fidgeting anxiously. just thinking about this issue made your stomach churn. “then i heard some of my co-workers talk about us, saying judgemental things… some of it was kind of hurtful too.”

you glanced at him, suddenly feeling ashamed that you were even questioning anything. you knew that veritas and aventurine sincerely loved you and cared about you. “honestly, it made me question our relationship. if we can really grow old together like this or if it’s doomed to fail. whether it’s right for me to be with you.”

veritas looked at you as if you just said something unfathomably stupid. “there’s no reason to question what other people are saying. it’s your life to live, is it not?” he retorts and you can tell there’s a sigh in him that wants to escape. “are you happy? with this?” he gestures vaguely between you two and aventurine who just came out of the bathroom and joined you two in bed. “with us?”

“yes? of course i am,” you replied. aventurine glanced between you, trying to figure out what the conversation was about as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him.

“then don’t question it. your happiness is all that matters. why pay any mind to fools that have nothing better to do than talk about you behind your back?” veritas pulled the covers up and gave everyone a quick kiss before reaching out to turn off the lights. his words made you feel more at ease, slowly melting any doubts and anxieties you had been feeling the past few weeks. 

“who hurt you? do i have to make someone disappear?” aventurine asked yawning, placing his head on veritas’ chest. “i love you, always have, always will. what goes on in our relationship is none of their business. i think we’re a good team, aren’t we?”

you knew home was with them - they made you feel safe, loved and comfortable. you couldn’t imagine coming home to only one of them, it wouldn’t feel complete. you liked coming home to aventurine showing you little souvenirs he had brought from his business trips, seeing him play with the critters and the way his eyes lit up with a competitive gleam whenever you tried out new video games together. you liked when veritas sat with you and explained whatever new findings or research he was working on, his well contained enjoyment of being able to share it with you. the way he wrapped his arms around you and placed his chin on your head when he opened up to you and was vulnerable, as best as he could. you knew he didn’t like to be but was willing to in his own way. and you were grateful, for both of them.

when you watched veritas and aventurine bicker about who was hogging the blanket again, leaving the other cold, you knew you wouldn’t change a thing about this relationship for anything in the world. you loved them, with all your heart. there was nothing else you needed from this world - you were happy.

[pierregazly]

but mama, i love him ꨄ oscar piastri smau

oscar piastri x leclerc!reader

the one where oscar's girlfriend has been soft launching their relationship for ages. and he's okay with it, especially if it means he can keep hiding in plain sight from her three overprotective brothers.

ynleclerc

tagged charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and others

ynleclerc omg omg omg... charles leclerc signed my hat? should i add it to the shrine? give them something to sacrifice?

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username any non-f1 fan would automatically assume ynleclerc is a crazy fan page for charles

username or a charles leclerc hate page... all she does it make fun of her brothers here

username she's offering her signed hat for the tifosi to sacrifice for a CL16 win??? that seems like pure love all around

arthur_leclerc i also signed your hat?

ynleclerc i also do not care? will a hat signed by you get me millions if i sell it for sacrificial purposes?

charles_leclerc what's next? my personal belongings?

ynleclerc is that an offer? if so, oui. i will take what i think will make me the most money next time i'm there, merci <3

scuderiaferrari if it gets us a 1-2 finish, sacrifice everything ynleclerc... please 🙏

username being a Ferrari fan is so satisfying when you remember ynleclerc is an automatic inclusion in everything and anything charles does

username the things i would do to have her as a McLaren fan... she's too beautiful for Ferrari 😭

oscarpiastri a piastri hat will get you good money in straya btw

username oscar??

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, mclaren, and others

oscarpiastri 'stop hitting me with the ball on purpose you jerk' was said more times than it should've been, by someone who really just sucks at tennis. had an awesome week back home, time to get back to it 💪

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logansargeant no wonder you're so worried about getting run over

username the coordinating outfits?? i'm gonna scream, who is she!!!

username what does logan know, tell us your secrets girl logansargeant

username oscar is gonna soft launch this relationship until the end of time. show us her face, you coward!!

ynleclerc did you pay her for all the bruises that tennis ball left?? poor girl

oscarpiastri it's not my fault she's a terrible tennis player, we all know i've offered to pay for a trainer

landonorris so this is why you couldn't come to bali with me 🤨

username lando really said i'm the third wheel??

username to be fair i'd probably pick oscar's girlfriend over lando for a week away too

username girly you don't even know who she is!!! she could be the devil

username i wanna be included in oscar's post week home photo dump :(

ynleclerc has posted a story

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, pascale.leclerc.355, and others

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oscarpiastri you can call me pookie whenever you want if you're gonna post things like this

ynleclerc i'd call you pookie with or without your permission, mon amour

charles_leclerc who is this

charles_leclerc why won't you tell us who you're dating

charles_leclerc we won't hurt him

charles_leclerc answer my texts

ynleclerc

liked by oscarpiastri, pascale.leclerc.355, arthur_leclerc, and others

ynleclerc get you a man who can do both, luckiest woman in the world whenever you're around. mon amour 🤍

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username people involved in formula 1 and their obsession with soft launching everything NEEDS to be studied

username at least she posts her boyfriend and he isn't just a small figure in the background of every post (charles this is a direct hate comment)

arthur_leclerc this would have been very lovely if it weren't for the last photo

liked by charles_leclerc and lorenzotl

ynleclerc suppose it's a good thing you could easily ignore it. cheers :)

pascale.leclerc.355 trés belle, ma fille 💗

charles_leclerc maman?

username could you IMAGINE if ynleclerc told pascale but obviously hasn't told her brothers? i can FEEL the outrage

username starting to think this may be a driver, ynleclerc is at every race weekend and ALWAYS makes a post with her mystery man at some point during the week after...

username okay ms sleuth (i think it's lando)

username i'm like 65% sure it's oscar, and 35% positive it's someone that looks a lot like oscar

ynleclerc

tagged oscarpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris, and others

ynleclerc someone exposed us on twitter, so i had to expose us on instagram 😮‍💨

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri love you <3

oscarpiastri i will love you even when a ferrari has run me over, of course.

arthur_leclerc is this your way of telling me i was right, without texting me back?

charles_leclerc this must be a joke, non?

pascale.leclerc.355 so very excited to finally be able to invite the both of you for dinner. trés belle 🤍

charles_leclerc maman, you knew?

ynleclerc oscar and i will see you for sunday dinner, maman! <3

tresbelleleclercspam

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and others

ynleclerc live feed of oscar running away from charles in the paddock when he said he 'just wanted to talk, mate'

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charles_leclerc i truly just wanted to talk about the race

charles_leclerc i did not have a speech planned, non

arthur_leclerc i did have a speech planned

lorenzotl i just wanted to welcome him to the family, as a good big brother should

oscarpiastri my apple watch warned me of an overactive heart rate 5 times today. why did you do this to me. why couldn't you have three sisters???

ynleclerc so very sorry, in our next life i'll try to make sure you only have to worry about sisters and not three overprotective brothers

oscarpiastri as long as i get to spend every lifetime with you <3

i actually got a request for something like this ages ago, and finally got around to finishing it. i so hope you all loved it as much as i loved writing it. thank you for all the support!!

i'm not currently taking requests, but if anyone has lil suggestions or prompts please feel free to send them.

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

₊ ⊹

summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the t.v, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the screen.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

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