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alwaysmicado · 1 year ago

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It's always been you

3.3k words | NSFW 18+ | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings: angst, age gap (unspecified), swearing, brief mention of p in v sex, brief mention of disordered eating and suicide, mention of black eye, toxic relationship, drug use, reader's coping mechanisms are unhealthy Summary: After a year of dating Dieter Bravo, you are forced to face reality. All good things must come to an end, right? A/N: Nothing is more painful than realizing the person you love is not good for you.

Enjoy the hurt and let me know what you think! I'd love to hear from you! 🖤

“Baby, please just listen to me,” Dieter implores. You huff and shake your head, avoiding his pleading eyes. “It didn’t mean anything. It really didn’t, okay? I- I don’t want her,” you can hear the desperation in his voice. He’s a good actor, you gotta give him that.

“Baby?” He takes a step towards you but knows better than to touch you right know. Even if that’s all he wants to do. Wrapping his strong arms around you, feeling your heartbeat against his chest, inhaling your scent. He says your name softly, his voice laden with anguish. You turn your head a little and your eyes find his. Dieter’s beautiful brown eyes. The eyes you've been losing yourself in for the past year.

“Please just tell me what I can do to fix this and I’ll do it. Anything. Please,” he takes another step towards you and whispers, “I can’t lose you.” Arrogant asshole. The illusion is gone.

You furrow your brow and tilt your head, studying the man in front of you. Dressed in his favorite pair of gray sweatpants, a loose white shirt that accentuates his tan skin, perfectly disheveled hair just screaming to be played with, sad puppy eyes. He looks like always - irritatingly handsome.

Something's off though. His body language, usually relaxed and confident, is teeming with insecurity. You smirk at that thought. Dieter Bravo, enigmatic celebrity and notorious playboy, insecure because of you. What a joke.

“You really think I'm fucking stupid, don't you?” Your voice is steady, every word filled with venom. “Just some silly girl you can use to get your dick wet and feed your ego.” He winces at that. Good. “I know you're used to people bending over backwards for you, blowing smoke up your ass and never saying no to you. But guess what, they don't give a shit about you.” Your face is heating up and you can feel your restraint slipping.

“I'm sure she made you feel really good, Dieter. Like a real star.” You snort sardonically and smirk, “Did you give her the same speech you gave me when we met? How you're this misunderstood guy just trying to get by and find real love?” You look around, shrugging your shoulders mockingly. “Either you're losing your charm or she's just a lot smarter than I am. Would've made everything so much easier if I'd left that first night, too, huh?”

Dieter huffs, averting his gaze and rubbing the nape of his neck. Your eyes follow the motion of his ringed hand, now clearly seeing the fresh hickey adorning his neck. Mother. Fucker. What the actual fuck is wrong with this man? And what the hell is wrong with you for putting up with his shit for so long? Seriously.

You’re actually very well aware of what's wrong with you, but that doesn’t really help you. Never has, if you’re being honest with yourself.

The hurt inside you becomes unbearable. Your lips start to tremble and you bite back a sob. You’re surprised at the feeling of wet tears running down your hot cheeks. What’s happening with you? You never cry in front of other people - especially not Dieter.

He hates it. Seeing you cry hurts him more than anything you could ever say to him. Unable to see you like this, he starts pacing around the living room, feverishly running his hands through his hair.

“Don’t you dare look away,” you spit out, making him turn around with an exasperated sigh, lifting his gaze to meet yours slowly. He cringes at what he sees in your wet eyes. The harm he's done. The spark in your eyes he loves so much, gone.

“You ripped my fucking heart out, Dieter,” you sob, tears streaming down your neck. You press both of your hands over your racing heart and claw at your shirt, nails digging into your flesh so hard it hurts.

Dieter reaches out to you, eyes wide, “Baby, I know I fucked up. I'm so-” “Fuck. You,” you shout at him, startling the both of you alike. You've never raised your voice at Dieter, no matter what bullshit he put you through. But you can’t take it anymore. Fuck always being the bigger person. Not like it ever got you anything.

And did he really just try and say he's fucking sorry?

“You ripped my beating heart out with your bare hands, felt my bleeding flesh in your palms and now you seriously have the fucking audacity to tell me it didn’t mean anything? That you're sorry?” You laugh mirthlessly and wipe your wet cheeks. Dieter swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He has no response.

Your head hurts and you feel weak despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Crying is exhausting. Having your heart stomped on is exhausting. Realizing the man you love will never be good for you is killing you.

You sit down on the sofa, close your eyes and inhale deeply. Dieter approaches you slowly and sits down on the far end, turning his body towards you, but giving you space.

Eyes closed, head resting on the backrest, you press the heels of your palms onto your eyes. You can hear Dieter's breathing, can smell his cologne. A birthday present from you he's used every day since unwrapping it. You remember that day well.

After the extravagant party with all of Dieter's fake Hollywood friends was finally over, you two went skinny-dipping in his pool. You started splashing water at each other, laughing without a care in the world. At some point, Dieter caught you in his arms, pulling you towards him, hooking your feet behind his back. He looked so happy, his beautiful features illuminated by moonlight. He kissed you slowly, passionately, savoring the taste of your lips. “I love you, you know,” he murmured, nudging your nose with his. “You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. Gonna do it right with you.” And you believed him. How foolish of you.

“It's easier for you like this, isn't it” you note quietly, turning your head to look at Dieter. “What do you mean?” His voice is raspy, brow furrowed in confusion. “Being the bad guy,” you scoff like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You've convinced yourself that you're a bad person who can never be good and that's why you act the way you do. Makes it easier. You can just point to your shitty behavior and tell yourself that's why people leave you.”

You furrow your brow and shake your head. “Don't you see? It’s you, Dieter. It’s always been you. It’s not the drugs, or the people you fuck, or the shit that happened in your childhood. You're the problem. It’s you.”

You huff and make for the door, in desperate need of fresh air and space.

“You think it's so fucking easy being me. Got it all figured out, huh?” Dieter's agitated voice yanks you back. “You have no fucking idea how it is. Everyone wants a piece of me and as soon as they got what they wanted - drugs, sex, fame - they fucking leave me.” He gets up and closes the distance between you two in a few strides. You don't back away.

You’ve never needed to be close to him more than right now and it positively kills you that you can’t. You can’t wrap your hands around his waist, press your face into his chest, hold him tight until your heartbeats synchronize. You can’t. Not anymore.

“You're the only good thing I got and I know I fucked up. I know I'm an asshole and I don't deserve you, but please,” he takes your hands in his, squeezing them gently, “please stay. I was high off my ass and I couldn't tell you her name or what she looked like if you asked me. Please let me fix this.”

Dieter leans in, leaving barely any room between your bodies. You can feel his breath on your face, feel the heat radiating off his body. His big sad eyes are piercing your soul, pleading with you, desperately seeking to convince you. Nice try. You know this will happen again. Dieter Bravo won't change. Not for you, not for anyone.

You take a deep breath, maintaining eye contact. “I’m not leaving you because you fucked someone else in our bed last night, Dieter. I’m leaving you because you're so convinced you're bad that you won't even try to be better. Not even for me.”

Hot tears are starting to make their way down your cheeks again. Dieter gives you a sad smile, gently cupping your face with his hands, wiping away the evidence of your sadness with his thumbs. “Please don't cry, baby,” he murmurs. His voice is strained, the corners of his mouth twitching.

You put your trembling hands around his wrists and slowly lower them from your face. “I'm done being just another person who got caught up in the whirlwind that is you and got lost on the way. I can't do it anymore.”

Before Dieter can say something, you interrupt him by softly pressing your right hand to his chest. His heart is racing. “It felt like you killed me last night,” you deadpan and Dieter’s breath hitches, his eyes going even wider. “I'm so so-” “But you know what?” you look into his eyes intently and shrug, “I’m still here, so I guess I’m not dead.”

“I’ll go on without you,” you nod, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “I’m done, Dee. Finally done.”

----------

You lean against the front door of Dieter’s mansion, chest heaving, trying to steady your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slowly. Over and over. The dull pain in your head gets worse and you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to throw up. You turn around to face the concrete wall and empty your stomach contents onto the ground, trying as much as you can to not get it on your clothes.

Your throat burns, tears are streaming down your face and the throbbing pain in your head is all-consuming. Your vision starts to get blurry and you can hear your blood rushing in your ears - louder and louder - until everything is quiet. Peaceful.

----------

I’m sorry. I want you to be happy.

Dieter’s note on the nightstand does nothing to you. Your heart feels numb.

You see the glass of water and the Advil next to the note. You’re wearing a clean shirt, not the one you were crying and throwing up on a few hours ago. Dieter must have changed you into one of his. Your pants are neatly folded on a lounge chair standing in the corner. Light is flooding the bedroom you've woken up in every morning for the past year. Weird to think it's the last time today.

You sit up too fast and your head pounds violently, so you try and move as slowly and carefully as possible. The pill doesn’t go down easily. Your throat burns and even the tiny gulp of water you need to swallow it feels like someone’s dragging hot knives from your tongue all the way down to your bleeding heart.

Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You know Dieter, you know what to expect from him and you also know yourself. Still, you let yourself believe. Believe that you could be loved. Believe that someone could know you - really know you - and still love you. But it’s always the same. To know you is to love you less.

It’s your fault. Dieter showed you who he was from the beginning and you still let yourself fall for him. You knew better than to open up your bruised heart to him and yet, you did. That was your decision, not his. And the most fucked up thing? You’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Loving Dieter hurt. Badly. But for a brief moment in your life, he showed you that you were capable of loving someone and being loved.

You know he was telling the truth about that. He did love you. Maybe still does. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve had your taste of pure happiness and that’s more than most people will ever experience in their life. It’s okay. It was always going to end this way.

----------

Three months later

It’s hot outside. Too hot. So you usually just stay inside your new apartment after you come home from work. Shutters closed, AC blasting until the sun goes down and you can finally open the windows to let the cool night air inside.

You’re on your balcony, finishing up your nightly bottle of white wine. You can smell the summer night, hear the hum of cars driving by, people eating and laughing, crickets chirping peacefully. When you close your eyes, you feel a comfortable buzz. This is okay. You’re still here, haven’t jumped off your balcony or slit your wrists. Too final, you think.

You don’t actually want to die, you just want to be as numb as possible. Numb the pain that is simply too unbearable to face fully present. So you drink and you pop Xanax bars and you either don’t eat or stuff yourself so full you throw it all back up.

And you fuck Ben from work.

Turns out he'd had his eyes on you for some time before you went into his office with the goal to get bent over his desk.

Swaying your hips, batting your eyelashes, tracing his arms and shoulders with your fingertips, purring into his ear how you need him to take care of you did the trick. Two minutes after entering the office, Ben was already balls deep inside you. He made you cum on his cock, spilled his seed on your ass and drove you home after. You fucked him again in the parking lot of your apartment complex, riding him until you both were a sticky mess. He didn't ask if he could come upstairs and you didn't offer. “What did I do to deserve you, hm?” he asked when you were both laying in his bed a few days later. You lifted your head from his chest to look at him. He was beaming at you with undisguised admiration. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and buried your face in his neck. Ben was kind and attentive and handsome - he was everything you could wish for. What a sane person would wish for, anyway. But that wasn't you. And he wasn't Dieter.

You're alone tonight, sitting on your sofa, a glass of wine in your hand. You stare at your phone, index finger hovering over the Instagram icon. You shouldn't be doing this. Really shouldn't. 'Cause every time you do it, you end up crying yourself to sleep despite the alcohol and pills.

Fuck it. You open the app and are greeted with Dieter's face laughing into the camera. He's not alone, as usual. A pretty girl is hugging him and pressing her plump lips to his left cheek. You want to vomit.

He stopped texting and calling you a few weeks ago. Probably got tired of you never replying, you assume. And it's not like there aren't thousands of women out there just waiting to take your place by his side and in his bed. Why would he waste his time on a woman who broke up with him?

You're sure that Ms What's-her-face from his Instagram doesn't nag him about doing too much coke or fucking other women or meeting her parents or starting a fam- You throw your phone across the room and start sobbing violently. Three shots of Whiskey and too many Xanax bars later, you pass out on the sofa.

You stop stalking Dieter's Instagram after that night. You need to get your shit together before you do (even more) irreparable harm to your body and psyche. No more social media, no more alcohol, no more pills, no more Ben. He doesn't make a scene, letting you know that he'd like to stay friends. You know you don't deserve his kindness.

A few quiet weeks go by and you start to feel a bit better, now that you're not treating yourself like complete garbage. You eat well, take walks when the weather's nice and you've started dating a guy you met in the small coffeeshop near your apartment. Life is fine at the moment. You're fine.

----------

Loud knocking on your front door rips you out of deep sleep. You open your eyes in confusion and check your phone. It's 2:26 am. Probably someone coming home drunk and knocking on the wrong door. You wrap yourself in your blanket tightly and close your eyes again.

Another loud knock, now accompanied by a voice saying your name. You grunt and reluctantly get up, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. You look through the peephole and your heart skips a beat.

“I'm sorry for waking you, babe. Thanks for letting me in, I-” Dieter looks down at his feet, fidgeting with his rings, “I didn't know where else to go.” You hand him a cup of chamomile tea, sitting down beside him on the sofa. “It's okay,” you nod, looking at his face intently. He's wearing his signature sunglasses. You assume it's because he wants to hide the evidence of his excessive drug use.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes before he lifts his head to look at you. He puts his right hand on the cushion between you two, wordlessly communicating his need for your touch. You gently place your left hand over his and move to intertwine your fingers. Dieter's breathing becomes heavier.

“What happened, Dee?” you ask quietly. When he doesn't answer, you move your right hand towards his sunglasses, watching carefully for any signs that he wants you to stop. You take the glasses off slowly and gasp when you see what he was hiding. It wasn't dilated pupils, it was a massive black eye.

You trace the swollen skin under his left eye with your thumb, causing him to wince. “I guess her husband found out?“ you ask with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. Dieter chuckles, shaking his head. “I'm sorry,” he says, lifting his gaze to meet yours. You shrug your shoulders, “I already said it's okay you came he-” “That's not what I mean,” he interjects. “I'm sorry for everything, for hurting you. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness and you're better off without me, but I want you to know that I really am sorry.”

And just like that, the heart you've worked so hard on fixing over the past few months breaks all over again.

Tears are silently falling from your cheeks as you lie down on your bed. You're on your side, eyes closed, tears pooling on the pillow when you feel the mattress sink under Dieter's weight. He's removed his jacket and pants, now lying on his side, mirroring you, in his boxers and shirt.

He caresses your cheek and murmurs, “C'mere”. You lay your head on his chest, your right hand resting above his heart. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, kissing the top of your head.

“I do love you, you know,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

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unnecessary-dinosaurs · 6 months ago

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Ok! I watched Chaos Theory! I have a lot of thoughts! There were things I liked a lot and things I wasn’t a fan of. I generally liked it but came away slightly underwhelmed. If you haven’t watched it yet please go do so!!! Support the show and the wonderful crew that put it together!!!

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

WHAT I LIKED:

-MATEO!!! I literally loved him so much. A fantastic, simple character that doesn’t overstay his welcome or detract from our main characters. Great motivations and realistic backstory. Yeah. I really liked him. Yeah.

-Yasammy! Obviously they were amazing. They got to be cute and bubbly and gay but also their argument was so real and believable. Neither one of them is completely in the wrong. They are just two flawed people who’ve been through more than they can handle on their own. They need each other but not always in the way they might think. They were such a highlight this season. Can’t wait for more of them.

-This whole show just feels like a dramatic step up in visual storytelling from CC. The sets are beautiful and intricate, the lighting and textures are fantastic, and the directing is just really great. There are some really creative shots and transitions, and overall it just feels like more confident directing and storyboarding all around. (I specifically remember episode 7 being really great visually. Super fun stuff.)

-All the dinosaur action was great. Like next level shit. The way they keep finding creative ways to use these animals for action and suspense is very impressive. The raptors are genuinely scary. The Allosaurus and Pachyrhinosaurus were personal favs.

-Unlike Dominion, they actually showed what living in a world with dinosaurs is like- how people are adjusting to this new way of life, adapting to the presence of these animals, and keeping themselves safe. Totally what I wanted to see from Dominion, and Chaos Theory did it better within a single episode.

-There was some very well crafted suspense throughout this season. The mystery does a great job of constantly keeping you pulled in. Every time a question is answered, five more are asked.

-The darker tone is definitely welcome. The characters are older and they’ve experienced a terrible loss. The weight of the new world weighs on them and the audience in a very tangible way.

-This one isn’t really constructive but like. I just love Darius so much. He’s so perfect.

WHAT I DIDN’T LIKE:

-Unfortunately I thought the character writing was significantly weaker than any season of CC. It was genuinely impressive how they were able to make me not care much about these versions of Ben and Kenji, my absolute favorite characters in CC. Before the characters felt like real, living people. Now, they just feel like fictional characters to me. Really good characters, yes, but still just characters. Maybe I’ll go into further detail about this in a future post. But yeah, overall it felt like the characters took a backseat this time around.

-I’m so sorry but I absolutely could not stand the new VA for Kenji. I’m sure he’s trying his best but he sounded uninterested and half-assed most of the time. Brooklynn’s new actor was… fine? Didn’t care for her either but she didn’t bug me the way Kenji did. Let’s start a GoFundMe to pay for Ryan to come back.

-Ok. Yeah. Not a fan of Darius being in love with B. Like, ok. It makes sense and it fits the plot well. But it just seems unnecessary. Darius can be devastated by her loss without it. Ehhh maybe they’ll handle it well in future seasons but. No. Not for me.

-Also didn’t like Daniel Kon’s death. I liked that they brought him back, but killing him felt undeserved. Like, he was the main antagonist for the first show, but you just kill him off in a random episode six years later? I think he deserved a little more reverence rather than reintroducing him for one episode and then quickly killing him for shock value once he’s served his purpose.

-WHY DID THEY GIVE BEN A GIRLFRIEND THAT BOY IS GAY AS HELL NOOOOO

#I’m sure I’ll think of more stuff I liked/didn’t but these are the main things!!#jurassic world chaos theory #camp cretaceous #jwct #jwct spoilers

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tgmsunmontue · 8 months ago

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More than movie magic... 12/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

ELEVEN

PART TWELVE

“Conversation go that well hmm?”

“What?” Jake asks, and he’s distracted, pretty sure he’s going to need to jerk off before he’ll be able to get to sleep, certain he can still feel Bradley’s fingers on his skin, unable to really process anything more than his mom standing there in her dressing gown and talking to him.

“You’re going to have hell in makeup tomorrow…”

“Huh?”

“Oh Jake… I’m happy for you honey.”

He freezes then, because he hasn’t said anything and he looks at her and she’s just watching him, expression amused and he guesses he’s been a little distracted since he got home, but not massively so… He managed to ride home, settle Blitzen in her stall, all while sporting a semi which is now quickly disappearing in the face of his mother talking to him. Thank fuck for small mercies.

“Happy about what exactly?”

“Well, you didn’t have that beard rash at dinner. Twenty-four hours. Amazing what you can achieve with a little motivation isn’t it?”

Oh god. He hadn’t realized that his face and neck would be literal red flags, broadcasting his recent activity. His mom is fat too observant and has always simply known when he had been making out with people. Years as a high school teacher and recognizing bullshit probably help. He groans.

“You’re an unholy terror.”

“And proud of the fact sweetie. Proud of you too. Well done on using your words.”

Jakes grins, doesn’t mention that there weren’t a lot of words exchanged, not ones that he can repeat in polite company anyway, and his mom will believe whatever she wants, regardless of what he says right now.

“Yeah, we like each other. It’s good.”

“Good. Now I just need to get him to accept that dinner invite.”

“Yeah, good luck with that one mom.”

… … …

“Okay, what is going on. You’re smiling at Jake Seresin rather than just watching him with that slightly… mournful look.”

“What’s more interesting is he’s smiling back,” Bob says, spooning more oatmeal into his mouth and Bradley loves working with his friends, he really does, but sometimes he also wishes they just didn’t quite know him so well. Maybe he should spend some time with some of the other teams, allow himself some distance if this whole thing doesn’t pan out. It’s not like Bob couldn’t take over from him here.

“It wasn’t mournful,” Bradley mutters, taking a sip of his tea. “Considering maybe.”

“Considering how much you want him maybe…” Natasha mutters, voice low and Bradley rolls his eyes, but also he can’t outright deny it either, because they’d all know he was lying. There’s a difference between being attracted to someone and wanting them to actually acting on it though. Last night was a revelation of the best sort and while they hadn’t had a chance to talk it had felt full of promise and potential, more to come, a prologue rather than an epilogue and the way Jake keeps catching his eye and smiling across the dining hall makes him feel surer about that fact.

“Mind if I join you?” Javy Machado asks, and Bradley takes it as the reprieve it is, smirks at the blush appearing on Natasha’s cheeks and quirks an eyebrow but wisely keeps his mouth very firmly shut. He likes his dick and balls right where they are.

The conversation flows around him and he focusses on eating for a bit and moving his shins out of the way of Natasha’s feet where she’s trying to kick him, clearly knowing what he’s thinking about Javy Machado coming over wanting to eat breakfast with her.

“Bradley…” He looks up and Aunty Kaye is standing there, smiling her normal smile but her eyes are slightly more narrow than usual, like she’s either assessing him for body-bag size, or she’s about to tell a joke and she’s already laughing inwardly. It’s really hard to tell.

“Aunty Kaye. Morning.”

“Hmm. It is morning. And you are not going to need extra time in the makeup chair this morning…”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“My son’s face and neck look like he lost a fight with a roll of sandpaper…”

Oh fuck.

He can feel his cheeks heating, and at least he knows she’s Jake’s mom now and he isn’t hit with the shock of that as well. He hasn’t seen Jake up close yet, but he trusts that Aunty Kaye knows what she’s talking about and if he’s left Jake with stubble burn then… well. It’s kind of unavoidable if he wants to keep kissing him, he’s not going to apologize to Jake’s mom about it, not when Jake clearly didn’t seem to mind.

Bob, Rueben, Natasha and Javy are all watching the interaction with glee, as are a handful of other people within hearing distance and he glances over to where he last saw Jake and he’s not there, instead he’s much closer, expression harried as he approaches and oh shit, his face and neck are definitely more pink than normal, not bright red, but definitely pink like he’s been out in the sun maybe.

“Oh my god mom, please leave him alone…” Jake says. “I am so sorry about her.”

“I expect you at dinner tonight. At the main house.”

“Uh.”

“Mom!” Jake exclaims, then he turns to Bradley. “You don’t have to come to dinner, she’s just meddling…”

“Well, I’ve been inviting Bradley to dinner for a couple of weeks. Maybe with you there he’ll have more of an incentive to come, hmm?”

Bradley is pretty sure he’s full-on blushing now, realizing that those dinner invitations maybe had an ulterior motive if Jake’s expression are anything to go by. He’s not going to avoid or ignore or run away from any of it anymore, and maybe they can finally have that conversation he feels needs to happen.

“Seems like the least I can do considering the amount of makeup Jake’s going to need.”

THIRTEEN

#Hangster #Sereshaw #more than movie magic #Top Gun Maverick

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ughdontbeboring · 4 months ago

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so yal may be surprised af to know I’ve never watched Elvis the movie or even any clips even though I’ve been a Austin fan since his earlier days and a bigggh Baz fan since Romeo + Juliet (still so obsessed and Moulin Rouge ahhh so good) I honestly wasn’t sure how’d they portray Elvis and his relationship with black artist of the time and culture and I didn’t want to have to go there bc I adore them both. Plus I surprisingly don’t remember that much press for it but I know that’s more of who I was following. It’s only been the past couple months I’ve been catching up on that press tour and I’m so obsessed I love love lovvvvveeee Baz and Austin tg and I pray they work tg again.

but then eventually I obviously heard such good things about it and kept telling myself to watch it and idk just never did.

sooooooooo here I go yall and I have a feeling I’m about to be even more obsessed 😅🥲😭

also I asked my mom if she wanted to watch and she said “girl I been watched it! Me and grandma watched it together and it was so good, it was like watching an Elvis concert. Put it on I’ll watch it again”

like ok wow girl you just been watched it without me 🙄 also I’m sure she doesn’t realize Austin is the same actor from our show The Shannara Chronicles. Gosh I loved that series when it aired.

so I’ll be back and down bad and even worse for Austin and stil pledging my love for Baz all these years later.

UPDATE BELOW

wow yall just wow

wow wow wowwwwww I’m obsessed

it was so emotional and so visually stunning. I personally loved the respect and appreciation they showed for black culture. I know people are 50/50 on it but I feel like was never told this way, that Elvis did in fact care and appreciate this community he grew up in and felt accepted by. When he needed to get back to himself THAT is where he could go either physically or in song.

wow Austin was wow. He was extraordinary. I love love Brendan but idk Austin just brought a life and emotion to Elvis NO ONE has been able to over all these years. From his happiness to his grief. He was able to bring back a love and appreciation for Elvis. Def Oscar worthy.

and Baz. A real fucking genius. No one could have made this movie but him, not in true Elvis fashion. I think Elvis would have loved the way he shot this. The way Baz told his story. but it is a film sadly I will probably never watch again it was just tooo emotional for me. I’m sucker for people losing their parents young or being taking advantage of and he was!!! And he died sooooooo young I swear my whole life I thought this man passed in his 60s and he was HARDLY 40!! Omg my heart just breaks for him and those who truly loved and cared for him.

I really don’t have a favorite part but i love all the early shots of Elvis and Austin in the pink!! Ah! And the pink lace omg it’s just such a look. Austin pulls off the pink so well. Him running around on Beale Street. The opening scene with Elvis and how we hardly see his face as we’re tryna catching up with him and we mostly just see the people around him. I love how the guy yells out at him fairy or something and you can just see the gf intrigued and then Elvis just goes off and then she’s the first one to scream and then he yells for her to sit down when she jumps up! lmfao I was cracking up. Loved that part.

one of the other parts I loved is how Baz shoots Toms character the colonel when he’s trying to get a first look at young Elvis out back. He truly shot him like the predator he was. That was just ugh I loved that part, young Elvis is w his mama and those who care abt him and he’s nervous and just tryna get a grip and here he is watching and just taking in what he can to use for his own good. Ugh fucking piece of shit.

and the closet scene crying over him mama 😭 that must have been emotional for Austin.

and when they threatened him not to shake a pinky and he does before letting loose and all hell breaks loose.

I can see why Austin ended up in the hospital right after filming it must have taken such a toll on his body I can’t imagine what Elvis was actually feeling and sadly I understand why he passed so young.

I mean 10/10!! stunning

loooooveeeed this scene!! And how they shot the focus.

#austin #austin butler #ughrant #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #elvis #elvis the movie

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narrynukezankielover · 10 months ago

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Got to say they don’t put enough Cas in Supernatural. Misha is adorable and an amazing actor yet they didn’t use him enough. Next I’m not as pissed off either Sam as I was now knowing he had no soul (beginning of season 6). I was extremely pissed at him for takeing a year to tell Dean he had been back from hell but now knowing he can’t help but not care I’m not as pissed at him. I hate Sam anyway so I’ll always have a reason to be a little pissed at him.

It’s funny to see the difference between how Cas talks to Dean versus Sam especially when they are mad at each other in the conversation. In the scene where Dean gets Cas there because he thought some heavenly instrument was in town (I’m sorry I can’t remember ep numbers or names). Dean started yelling at Cas but after 3 years of knowing Dean Cas didn’t take it personally and just poured him a drink. All of a sudden Dean softened up. He then just asked Cas what was going on. Yet when Sam got Cas to earth by lying to him you can tell Cas didn’t want to deal with him. Then Sam threatening him made Cas go back to the way he was in early season 4. He got right in Sam’s face called him boy and made sure Sam knew he wasn’t afraid of him.

Cas and Deans reaction to Sam saying Cas and Sam are friends was hilarious. Cas head tilt was a you just threatened my life and now you’re saying we’re friends?

This is definitely a look of you’re friends? Since when?

I also love how they are showing Cas and Dean are a team now. When they are interrogating someone usually it’s one of them that is doing all the questions and then the other will pick up for them. Like when they were trying to figure out what was wrong with Sam and Cas was asking him a lot of questions Dean told Sam to answer whatever Cas asks him. It’s also great to see that Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to help Sam by himself and let someone else take over. I feel like earlier seasons Dean wouldn’t have done that. Like he would’ve thought he could do it all himself. It’s nice to see Dean changeing and learning. Same as when Cas was asking Crowley if he could help get Sams soul back Dean yelled at Crowley to answer him and when Dean was asking the angel in the oil fire (there is no way I’m going to spell his name right so I’m not trying. It’s the angel at the beginning of the season I think ep 3. Cas thought he was dead but he faked his own death) Dean was asking him questions and Cas yelled at him to answer Dean. I read a while ago someone said that the first time Cas seen Dean as Dean and not his soul was when Cas became human but if in that ep Cas had to reach into Sam to figure out what was wrong obviously he can’t see their souls. Am I missing something or is that maybe something that changes later on?

I seen Cas being jealous back in season 4 when Dean kissed Anna but I’ve been waiting to see Dean being jealous of Cas. I finally got to see it. Meg flirting with Cas really got to Dean.

This is a pissed off Dean look. You can tell he’s really trying to control himself.

This is a how dare you kiss my angel look.

After Cas and Meg kiss Dean goes from did you really just do that?

To she looked satisfied. Cas is a good kisser? In less then 2 seconds. I have been waiting for the pizza man episode and it was great.

When Dean said he was going to give Cas an hour with Meg and Cas said what for? At first I thought he just didn’t know about sex but he does know. He said before that other angels do it he just never had the opportunity. So now I’m thinking it was Cas makeing sure Dean knew he don’t want to have sex with her.

#castiel #dean winchester #cockles #dean x castiel #destiel

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lilyvandersteen · 2 years ago

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Home Away From Home by @lilyvandersteen

This story was written for the Klaine Prompt Reverse Bang, and is dedicated to @justgleekout, who made art for this prompt, and to my faithful beta @hkvoyage. Thank you so much!

Summary:

Cooper buys a hotel sight unseen and asks Blaine to run it for him over the summer. Only, the hotel is a health and safety hazard and Inspectors Hummel and Abrams are hell-bent on closing it down. Can Blaine spruce the hotel up in time and save Cooper's investment?

Rated M. Warning for the use of a rape drug in the story. No actual rape, though, I assure you.

You can also read this story on AO3.

~~~~~~

Prologue

Thump!

Blaine woke with a start as he fell out of bed.

“Oops!” said his roommate, wincing sympathetically. “Didn’t mean to push you that hard, but you just wouldn’t wake up.”

Blaine groaned and rubbed his sore bottom as he got up, squinting at his alarm clock. “Tina! It’s three o’clock in the morning! Why would you wake me up at this hour?”

“So you could answer your phone. Or silence it. It’s been blaring off and on for at least ten minutes. You’re lucky I haven’t smashed it to bits yet!”

Right on cue, Blaine’s phone went off again. He grabbed it and tapped the Answer button.

“Hey squirt!” Cooper boomed.

“Don’t call me… Coop, why on EARTH are you waking me up in the middle of the night?”

“What? It’s not… Oh, hang on, time difference. Right. Didn’t think of that, squirt, sorry.”

Blaine sighed. “Don’t call me squirt. And okay, I guess you’re filming somewhere at the other side of the world again?”

“Yes, we’re working on that fantasy series for Netflix that I told you about. I’m in Thailand right now. Flying to New Zealand tomorrow. I’m having a total blast.”

“That’s great. Now tell me, what was so important you had to tell me right this minute?”

“Oh! Oh, just you wait, you’re going to LOVE this!”

“Uh-oh,” Blaine mumbled between gritted teeth. “What now?”

Cooper either didn’t hear him, or pretended not to.

“You know how you’re always telling me to stop spending my money on stuff like cars and tech, right?”

Blaine huffed. “And with good reason. You spend an obscene amount on gadgets. And that Bugatti is SO over the top.”

“Exactly!” said Cooper. “Well, now I’ve made a ‘sound investment’, as you call it. Real estate, as you advised.”

Blaine’s heart leapt. “Really? You bought a place in New York? And you’re calling me to ask me if I will move in with you? The answer’s yes!”

Tina put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“Nah… No. Not exactly.”

Blaine’s sense of misgiving tingled.

“I didn’t buy a house. I bought a hotel. It was a steal, I’m telling you. I couldn’t pass it up!”

“A hotel? Where? Why?”

“Well, I won’t be this pretty forever, you know,” Cooper explained. “And then I might not get booked as an actor anymore. So I needed to find a back-up plan for when I stop being in demand. Talked about it with the guys here over lunch, and Sebastian Smythe, who plays my younger brother in the series we’re filming, said he had a hotel he could sell me. I kind of like the thought of offering people a nice vacation, you know. A home away from home. Maybe I could do a one-man show after dinner. Like they do on cruises. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very well, but you’re still filming now. So who’s going to run the hotel?”

“Well, that’s where you come in,” Cooper announced cheerfully. “You’re done with your exams, right? And now you’ve got several months off. So you can go check out the hotel for me. See if the staff that’s in place is okay or needs to be replaced.”

“Coop, are you insane?”

“Think of it as a free vacation, squirt. I’m sure the staff will pamper you once they find out you’re the brother of the new owner!”

Blaine shook his head slowly in disbelief. “Have you even SEEN the place before you bought it?”

“On the website, yes. It looks great!”

“Ugh, Coop! So you saw a couple of pretty pictures on a website and shelled out a fortune sight unseen? How can you be sure the place even exists?”

Cooper chuckled. “Well, of course it exists! The previous owner sent me an Excel spreadsheet with the bookings. It’s booked solid for the rest of the year already! Just think what a fortune I’m going to make!”

Blaine tugged at his curls in frustration, repressing an ungodly urge to strangle his brother. “UN-BE-LIEVE-A-BLE. You are unbelievable! Okay, not everyone has a head for business, but I can’t believe you are THIS much of an idiot! Are you sure you’re actually my brother and George Anderson’s son? Our father would have a conniption if he found out about this!”

“I thought you’d be happy I’d followed your advice.”

Blaine could almost hear his brother’s pout.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair again.

“I know you meant well. But… Buying a place without even visiting it first is not a good idea, and that’s putting it mildly. There could be all sorts of things wrong with it. If you say you didn’t pay much, that’s quite likely, in fact. This ‘investment’ of yours may be just as useless as that Nintendo Wii Supreme you just had to have.”

“Hey! It’s not useless! I’ve used it a lot!” Cooper protested. “And I’m sure it’s all on the up and up. As I said, the pics on the website look fantastic!”

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose and suppressed another sigh. Talking to Cooper was very much like talking to a toddler, sometimes.

“Coop … Anyone can copy-paste a couple of nice pictures onto a website. That doesn’t prove anything. Did the realtor give you a virtual tour?”

“Uhm… No.”

“Did you pay someone to do a thorough inspection of the property before you bought it?”

“No.”

“Please tell me that the offer you made had a home inspection contingency, at least?”

“Uhm… No idea.”

Blaine’s voice rose an octave. “A title contingency, to make sure no-one else can claim the property?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you even so much as look the hotel up on TripAdvisor to see if it had good reviews?”

“Nope, didn’t think of that.”

“Oh, Coop…” Blaine groaned. “What a mess! You need to go there, stat, and check the property from top to bottom. You actually bought it already, right? It’s not just an offer you can withdraw?”

“It’s mine, yes. I signed a contract. But you know I can’t go check the property right now. I’m heading to New Zealand tomorrow, and I’m needed there for at least six more weeks.”

Blaine let his head down, overwhelmed. “Ugh… I’m not awake enough for this. Coop, send me all the info, and the contract, by e-mail. I’ll look it over and see what our options are.”

“I knew I could count on you, squirt. Thanks a lot. I’ll send you everything. And now I’ll let you sleep. Sorry again for waking you up, and talk to you later!”

Cooper rang off, and Blaine was left staring at the phone in his hands in bewilderment.

Tina cocked her head to the side. “So… Your brother bought a hotel? Just like that?”

Blaine nodded. “Just like that. And then recruited me to sort everything out for him. Oh, this is going to be a disaster!”

“Why are you in such a panic about this, Blainey Days? Surely, your brother wouldn’t let himself be duped?”

Blaine groaned. “Oh, yes, he would!”

He patted Tina on the arm. “But that’s my problem, not yours. You can go back to bed, and I’m sorry my idiot brother woke you up like that. I’ll make you pancakes in the morning to make up for it, okay?”

“Okay. G’night.”

Blaine wearily shuffled back to his bed, and was out like a light.

By six a.m., though, he was awake again, worrying.

After half an hour of tossing and turning, he got up quietly and started up his computer.

Cooper had sent the files, as requested.

The contract did not have a home inspection contingency nor a title contingency, as Blaine had feared.

The hotel wasn’t in a nice touristy location. It was in the middle of nowhere. A place called Lima, Ohio.

Also, the hotel had certainly not been a “steal”. Cooper must have sunk a lot of capital into it.

The photos on the website did look good, yes, but as soon as Blaine checked the reviews about the hotel on TripAdvisor, he knew they had to be fake.

All of the reviews were negative. And it was bad. Worse even than Blaine had feared.

The mildest complaint was one about the lack of free Wi-Fi. It went steadily downhill from there.

Guests complained about the hotel being overbooked. About dirty and stinky rooms. About a faulty outlet that fried their shaver. About bed bugs and cockroaches. About leaking taps that kept them up all night. About wanting a nice hot shower and only getting freezing cold water. About noisy neighbours that kept them up all night because the walls were so flimsy you could hear everything through them. About beds that creaked with every move they made and mattresses so old and thin their back was in knots. About sweltering heat in summer and bone-deep cold in winter, because the air conditioning units didn’t work. About the stale bread and lukewarm coffee they got for breakfast. About seeing mice in the restaurant. About rude staff that would come into their room without even knocking or that were accused of stealing money and a phone charger. About the lack of elevators and ramps for wheelchairs. And a blind person complained about their assistance dog not being let in.

When he’d read all of the scathing reviews, Blaine let out his breath in a big woosh.

Oh, Cooper, what have you done now?

Blaine felt like banging his head on the table in frustration, but refrained, choosing to get started on the pancakes instead.

When Tina emerged from her bedroom and saw how unhappy her roommate looked, she steered him towards a kitchen chair to give him a shoulder massage, saying, “Tell me all about it, Bee.”

So Blaine told her everything.

She whistled low. “I know the place. I grew up in Lima. And that hotel was where I lost my virginity after prom.”

Blaine shuddered. “TMI!”

Tina laughed. “Oh please! That’s something everyone does in high school. Get over yourself!”

Blaine wouldn’t meet her eyes, thinking of the only school dance he’d ever been to and how that had ended.

“Not everyone,” he mumbled.

“Well, anyway,” said Tina, “the place was a dump even then. I’d say sell it again immediately. But who’s going to want it? And even if someone does, they’ll pay a lot less than your brother did, so he’ll lose a lot of money.”

“Yep.”

“Can he afford to lose that much money?”

“Nope.”

Tina clacked her tongue. “Then we’ll have to do what we can to save the situation.”

“We?”

Tina put her hands on her hips. “Yes, well, unlike SOME people, I believe in roommate solidarity. Don’t think I didn’t hear you, telling Cooper you’d move in with him!”

“I meant for you to come with me, of course,” Blaine tried weakly, but Tina wasn’t having it, sending him a fierce glare.

Blaine looked down and swallowed, remembering how happy he’d been for a moment before Cooper had dashed his hopes. “Sorry. I just… I saw myself living in one of those pretty brownstones, and I jumped the gun. Sorry. As it happens, you don’t need to be scared I’ll leave you in the lurch. If I want a brownstone, I’ll have to buy one with my own money one day. Cooper’s proved once again that I shouldn’t count on him. And I was a fool to think I could, even for a split second. He’s an idiot, and all he ever does is make my life difficult. I should know that by now. He’s proved it so many times.”

“Aww, don’t be so hard on him.”

Blaine put a pancake on his plate and drowned it in syrup. Then he started shovelling big bites into his mouth, chewing with vigour and determinedly not looking at Tina.

“Blaine, don’t be like that. He made a mistake. We all do that, don’t we?”

Blaine swallowed a piece of pancake and retorted, “Our mistakes don’t cost millions of dollars. That’s the difference.”

“Well, he’ll make more millions, won’t he? How much does he get for that acting job he’s doing now?”

Blaine shrugged. “Dunno. But it had better be a lot, if we’re to renovate the hotel he bought. Let me first check with Monique if we can get that contract voided, though. I don’t think we’ll be that lucky, but it won’t hurt to check.”

“Who’s Monique?”

“She works for my father,” Blaine clarified. “Has done so for years. She’s like part of the family. I’ve known her since I was very little. Played with her daughter in my father’s office.”

“Hmm, so how could she help you? And why would she?”

“Monique has a soft spot for me,” Blaine smiled, thinking of all the scrapes with his father she’d gotten him out of. “And she knows this stuff like the back of her hand. She does everything that’s to do with real estate for my father. Buying, selling, finding contractors for renovation works, buying furniture for buildings, you name it, she does it.”

Tina cocked her head to the side. “Why didn’t Cooper contact her then, if he wanted to buy a hotel?”

“Coop’s more of a split-second decision kind of guy,” Blaine told her. “Never looks before he leaps. And then he looks to me to solve the problems he’s created. It’s exhausting.”

“You’d think he were the younger brother,” Tina giggled.

“Yep. He’s almost forty, but he still has the impulse control of a four-year-old.”

After breakfast and doing the dishes, Blaine called Monique and explained the situation, sending her all the documents. She confirmed what he thought – there was no backing out of the contract anymore.

Ugh.

“Could you check if the place is Cooper’s outright, please?” Blaine asked. “Seeing as there’s no title contingency, there’s no knowing who else might have a claim on it.”

“I’ll look into it,” Monique said, “but I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“Oh, and please don’t tell our father about this, Monique, okay?” Blaine implored her. “He’d go ballistic, and even though Coop is a moron, I don’t want him dead.”

Monique laughed and promised not to breathe a word about it to Mr. Anderson. “And if you need any help fixing the place up, you know who to call. Glad to help, whatever you need!”

“Well, the first thing we’re going to need is pest control. So if you know a good pest control firm over there in Ohio?”

Monique hummed and click-clacked on her keyboard for a minute or two. Then she said, “We’ve worked with Orkin, based in Cincinnati, Ohio. Did the job well. I’ll e-mail you their contact information. What else?”

“An HAVC specialist, a handyman and an electrician to fix all sorts of stuff, and a reliable plumber. Oh, and another thing… You buy loads of office furniture and supplies cheap in auctions, right? When companies go bust and their assets are sold to pay the debts?”

“That’s right. Want me to look for hotel stuff for you?”

“Yes, please. Furniture, mattresses, quality linens, you name it, we’re going to need it. Thanks, Monique!”

Monique chuckled. “It’s your brother who should say thank you. The things we do for that boy, right?”

“Right,” Blaine sighed. “Looks like I’m heading to Ohio for the summer. I’ll keep you posted, Monique, and thanks again!”

#klaine fanfiction #klaine prompt reverse bang #justgleekout #enemies to lovers #though enemies is too strong a term #happy reading!

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itsawritblr · 10 months ago

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"‘Barbie’ is bad. There, I said it." Thank god, someone I can agree with!

Opinion by Pamela Paul for the NYT, January 24, 2024.

We can all agree 2023 was a good year for the movies. Critically and commercially, several movies did well, and only one of those successes took place within the Marvel cinematic universe. Even the 10 Oscar nominees for best picture, announced Tuesday, included nine actually good films.

Is it safe now to call “Barbie” the outlier? Can I say that, despite winsome leads and likable elements, it didn’t cohere or accomplish anything interesting, without being written off as a) mean, b) old, c) hateful or d) humorless?

Every once in a while, a movie is so broadly anticipated, so welcomed, so celebrated that to disparage it felt like a deliberate provocation. After “Barbie” so buoyantly lifted box office figures, it also felt like a willful dismissal of the need to make Hollywood solvent after a season of hell. And it felt like a political statement. Disliking “Barbie” meant either dismissing the power of The Patriarchy or dismissing Modern Feminism. You were either anti-feminist or too feminist or just not the right kind.

Few dared rain on Barbie’s hot pink parade.

Those who openly hated it mostly did so for reasons having to do with what it “stood for.” They abhorred its (oddly anachronistic) third-wave feminist politics. They despised its commercialism and dreaded the prospect of future films about Mattel properties such as Barney and American Girl dolls. They hated the idea of a movie about a sexualized pinup-shaped doll whose toy laptop or Working Woman (“I really talk!”) packaging couldn’t hide the stereotypes under the outfit.

For those who hailed it, there was a manic quality to the “Barbie” enthusiasm, less an “I enjoyed” and more of an “I endorse.” How fabulous its consumer-friendly politics, its I-can’t-believe-they-let-us-do-this micro-subversions, its prepackaged combo of gentle satire and you-go-girl gumption. They loved it for reclaiming dolls and Bazooka-gum pink, its Rainbow Magic diversity, its smug assurance that everything contained within was legitimately feminist/female/fine. They approved of the fact that Weird Barbie’s quirks could X out Stereotypical Barbie’s perfection on some unspoken political balance sheet. That by being everything to everyone, a plastic doll could validate every child’s own unique and irrepressible individuality. To each her own Barbie!

And now there is a new Barbie cause to rally around: the Great Oscar Snub and what it all means — and why it is wrong. Neither Margot Robbie nor Greta Gerwig was nominated for best actress or best director, respectively. “How is that even possible?” one TV host exclaimed.

“To many, the snubbing of the pair further validated the film’s message about how difficult it can be for women to succeed in —<em> and be recognized for </em>— their contributions in a society saturated by sexism,” CNN explained. Ryan Gosling, nominated as best supporting actor for his role as Ken, issued a statement denouncing the snubs and hailing his colleagues.

But hold on. Didn’t another woman, Justine Triet, get nominated for best director (for “Anatomy of a Fall”)? As for “Barbie,” didn’t Gerwig herself get nominated for best adapted screenplay and the always sublime America Ferrera get nominated for best supporting actress? A record three of the best picture nominees were directed by women. It’s not as if women were shut out.

Every time a woman fails to win an accolade doesn’t mean failure for womanhood. Surely women aren’t so pitiable as to need a participation certificate every time we try. We’re well beyond the point where a female artist can’t be criticized on the merits and can’t be expected to handle it as well as any man. (Which means it still hurts like hell for either sex — but not because of their sex.)

Robbie had far less to do in “Barbie” than she did in “I, Tonya,” for which she justifiably got an Oscar nod. In this movie, she was charming and utterly fine, but that doesn’t make it a rare dramatic achievement.

With “Barbie,” Gerwig upped her commercial game from acclaimed art house to bona fide blockbuster. She was demonstrably ambitious in her conception of what could have been an all-out disaster. She got people to go back to the movies. All of these are successes worthy of celebration. But they are not the same as directing a good film.

Surely it is possible to criticize “Barbie” as a creative endeavor. To state that despite its overstuffed playroom aesthetic and musical glaze, the movie was boring. There were no recognizable human characters, something four “Toy Story” movies have shown can be done in a movie populated by toys.

There were no actual stakes, no plot to follow in any real or pretend world that remotely made sense. In lieu of genuine laughs, there were only winking ha-has at a single joke improbably stretched into a feature-length movie. The result produced the forced jollity of a room in which the audience is strenuously urged to “sing along now!”

A few reviewers had the gall to call it. The New York Post described it as “exhausting” and a “self-absorbed and overwrought disappointment,” a judgment for which the reviewer was likely shunned as a houseguest for the remaining summer season.

In our culture of fandoms, hashtags, TikTok sensations, semi-ironic Instagrammable cosplay, embedded anonymous reviews, sponsored endorsements and online grassroots marketing campaigns, not every critical opinion is a deliberate commentary on the culture or the virtue-signaling of an open letter. Sometimes an opinion isn’t some kind of performance or signifier.

There’s a crucial difference between liking the idea of a movie and liking the movie itself. Just as you could like “Jaws” without wanting to instigate a decadeslong paranoia about shark attacks, you can dislike “Barbie” without hating on women. Sometimes a movie is just a movie. And sometimes, alas, not a good one.

#Barbie #Barbie salt #barbie critical

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minato-division03 · 1 year ago

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Reiaki’s Thoughts on Okinawa Division

Ace Douglas

“Ohhhhh I didn’t think the ambassador himself would be taking part in this crazy tournament! A big national tournament that doesn’t really involve America, who would’ve thought, huh?”

Reiaki smiled brightly. “I doubt this guy remembers me! I looked pretty different a few years ago, but I used to attend lots of oversees galas when my father and younger brother were still alive, and I’ve seen this guy with his dad a few times! I didn’t really converse with him enough to get a feel of his character, I only ever saw him from afar… Oh well! Maybe ‘cuz of his high status, he has more training with his mic… Eek! That gives me high hopes!”

Evelyn Rose

"Oh, her! She’s a super cute one! I don’t work with her all that often since I don’t really see her for horror films, but she can be a real treat to work with! She’s just the sweetest~ If only you knew how excited I get when I see Evelyn-chan’s name in my client list! She’s big here in Japan, but I sure hope she makes it bigger in Hollywood! I think she’s got what it takes— and I’ve worked with lots of Japanese and Hollywood actors.”

Rashaad Young

"Oh hell yeah, this guy! So I vlogged my first visit to his bar and that did super well! Then when I visited a second time, I got the guy to let me advertise the place some more! We get along pretty well, I’d say! He doesn’t talk about himself all that much— I mean, I don’t, either— but he’s a pretty chill guy and he makes for a good conversation partner.”

Liberty Guild

“I fucking love this lineup! A group full of foreigners? That’s new! Bring it on, you guys! Don’t think just ‘cuz I like you guys, that I plan on letting you guys off easy on the battlefield!” Reiaki’s lips lifted into a cheeky, mischievous smile. “Our team leader gave us instructions, so you guys better give it your all! Bring it on! Man, I’m so excited…!”

#hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic arb #hypmic arb #okinawa division #liberty guild #ace douglas #evelyn rose #rashaad young #minato division #r.i.p märchen #reiaki suzubayashi

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project1939 · 5 months ago

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200 Films of 1952

Film number 179: Return of the Texan

Release date: Feb 13th, 1952

Studio: 20th Century Fox

Genre: drama/western

Director: Delmer Daves

Producer: Frank P. Rosenberg

Actors: Dale Robertson, Joanne Dru, Walter Brennan

Plot Summary: After Sam’s wife dies, he and his two sons move back to their old rundown family farm. Sam struggles to earn a living and deal with the grief from the loss of his wife. He finds help from his stubborn grandfather and a flirtatious woman in town.

My Rating (out of five stars): ***

This was just a nice simple family drama without too much melodrama. It’s more colorful and character driven than plot heavy and schmaltzy. The story could have easily become maudlin, so I appreciated the relatively restrained tone of it all. (major spoilers!)

The Good:

Dale Robertson as Sam. I’ve found him appealing in everything I’ve seen him in thus far (Outcasts of Poker Flat, Lydia Bailey, and O. Henry’s Full House), and I liked him here. He played Sam effectively as an outwardly stoic guy with clear pain and sensitively under the surface.

Joanne Dru's Ann was a shocking character at times. She was a kind woman who also openly and shamelessly juggled a lot of men, flirting intensely with anyone she wanted to. The flirting could even be sexually suggestive. In most Classical Hollywood films, she easily could have been judged as a “bad girl” or a slut, but she wasn’t here. It was very interesting.

I got quite invested in the characters- I really cared about Sam and his kids.

The screenplay and the overall tone of the movie was handled simply and without excessive sentiment.

I liked the fact that this was a film about grief; about dealing with a painful loss and trying to find a way through it. To have that as a central topic for a film was not very common in this era.

The opening music was beautiful, and I enjoyed most of the score.

The Bad:

Grandpa! I love Walter Brennan, but I hated the character. Why the hell he just kept going to hunt on Rod’s land, knowing it could jeopardize his son’s livelihood and home... I was literally yelling at my screen, telling him to knock it the fu-k off. The film didn’t seem to totally judge him for it either, some of it seemed to be joking about what a colorful guy he was. That annoyed me.

The “No Hunting” sign sent off alarm bells the very first time I saw it. I even wrote in my notes “foreshadowing??” It was pretty obvious.

Grandpa sure recovered miraculously from the stroke he had.

I was disturbed at the messages given when the two little boys (probably about 4 and 7?) looked at pictures of their late mother or told stories about her to other people. Grandpa especially acted like this was wrong- the kids needed to move on. Ann was always upset by it because it made her jealous and insecure. Sam just kind of tensed up. Please let these little babies remember their mother and process their grief in a healthy way!!

I’m getting sick of seeing men get into fist fights whenever they have an argument or one of them feels butt hurt in any way. In Classical Hollywood it’s portrayed as seemingly the ONLY way for men to deal with their problems. Or at least the only MANLY way. A crown of respect is placed on the head of the hero who uses his fists. Barf.

The trope of the wedding day for a character who is marrying the “wrong” person. In real life, are there honestly this many last-minute occurrences of “bride fleeing with her dress on to run to the man she really loves”??

Why, dear god, would you call one of your children Yo-Yo??

#1952 movies #100 films of 1952 #200 films of 1952 #dale robertson #joanne dru #200 films of 1952 film 179

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star-mum · 1 year ago

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Good morning babies <3 (“but it's literally the afternoon, Star” well nobody asked you, asshole) I got my breakie, I got my coffee, Spotify is blasting the FOB song of Sunny’s choice, lets fucking do this 😎

This is a fucking insane episode, it was really fucking good (it will be in my top 5 for season 4, I’m afraid) and also … WAS CYRUS PLAYED BY ARCHIE ANDREWS’ DAD ??????? MR ANDREWS ???? (i wanna say Fred Andrews ?)

Yes I know the actor, Luke Perry, was a lot more famous than that one character but I am 20 and that's the one thing I’ve seen him in (still he outsold in that fucking ep)

“You thought it would be an easy day. Maybe that was foolish on your part” well…. fucking duh, what did you expect when visiting a cult ? but also you’re me so I wont be too mean about it

“Benjamin Cyrus” OH YEAH ALSO, you’re gonna choose a new fake name for yourself and you go with BENJAMIN ??? Cyrus is cool as a first name, very cult-ish but Benjamin ??? LITTLE BENNY, THE CULT LEADER ???

“The rings.” YES !!! I fucking love this, fake dating ? NO, YOU FOOL MAKE MARRIAGE

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” …. As discreetly as possible Id wait for Spencer to put his ring on first to check which hand it is… im giFTED IN OTHER WAYS (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qXrQA-x1cbU)

“Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?” What is he gonna do? Demand to see the certificate?

“you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head” little intermission cause I genuinely DON'T UNDERSTAND why everyone always seems so annoyed whenever Spencer either blurts out random facts or goes on full rants ? Like, yes timing isnt one of his strong suits but as long as it isnt a super innaproprieta time WHY ARE YOU ALL SO JADED ????? I love useless stupid rants, I love to be told random facts, it’d genuinely be so much fun to have someone around who just Knows Stuff

Like imagine not having a super great day (or even a terrible one) you can just go “hey Spence, know any facts that might cheer me up?” BOOM ! EVERYONE’S HAPPY !! Okay, sorry about that, intermission over. Everyone back to your seats

“So Spencer stepped up to introduce you” isn't Cyrus gonna question why we didnt take Reid’s last name ?

“Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system” YEAH THAT CHECKS OUT

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’” YOU TELL US OR SHOULD YOUR CHILD BRIDES ????

“how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with” putting my entire pussy into this role, lets go gamers

“completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek” to sell the fantasy ONLY obviously

“Benjamin Franklin” … imagine youre a cult leader and the fake name you pick for yourself is in honor of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN (idc that he’s founding father, that's just boring and uninspired)

“knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride” KSKSKS WE WERE SO CONFIDENT ABOUT IT TOO “he wont find out” MA’AM

“Has it been a godly union?” … what does That mean ?

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” I just “Jim”ed a non-existent camera (am I just… unbeatable …?)

“Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before” I wonder why this super carefully made plan’s gonna explode on our faces (haha explode, get it?)

“A few hours later, everything had gone to hell” welp :/

“it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then”

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” can't we just put it on Nancy’s tab ? she’s already dead anyways :-:

“What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent?” very good point, angel <3

“and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry” this is like the opposite we’d always have to as agents, no the more real emotion the better

“It must have been Nancy!” FUCK YEAH WE CAN !!!!

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” I find comfort in knowing that his ass is getting blown up at the end of this : D

“Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat” sksksk damn

“So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.” I want him, biblically

“Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him” the yEARNING THAT I'M FEELING THIS WHOLE SECTION !! ITS A TERRIBLE AND INDESCRIBABLE FEELING

“You couldn’t hold yourself back then. You surged up and kissed him” YEEAAAHHHHH !!!! LETS GOOOOO !!!! howEVER sksksk we’re gonna get so much fucking grief from Morgan and Prentiss over this “a cULT HOLDING YOU A GUN POINT ?? THAT'S WHAT IT TOOK?”

“After the mock poisoning, which Spencer figured out rather quickly” not important but my sister watched this episode with me and I also figured that out – before her or Spencer, so point for me on the scoreboard

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant” I FORGOT ABOUT THIS PART (oh boy if you thought the yearning was hard before)

“You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle” KSKSKSK SUNNY

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” KSKSKKSS

“Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children” nothing like the fear of imminent death to bring out the embarrassing marriage!AU you have about you and your coworker

“You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head” dizzyingly is CORRECT cause I’m feeling light headed

Okay sorry, they’re acting so married and couple-y, I just had the vision of both of then getting back to where the rest of the team is still in that headspace and Hotch has to – after a long moment – ask for the rings back, cause they’re both still happily wearing them

“Hugo and Iris” I really wanna know the context for the name choices !! idk if this is something that Spencer mentioned further in the show or if there is a deeper meaning for you picking them, but I wanna know

“but you had come up with some much better – You said that you have a nursery here?“ fake miscarriage … ? ooohhhh okay no that was stupid nvm (I’ll be humble and leave it in tho SKSKSKS)

“needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die” SKSKSKS the comedy in this one is just next level, these lines are killing me

“Your plan worked flawlessly” never doubted myself for a second 🫥

““Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you. “He’s still up at the church” Oh we’re kissing when he gets out, in front of everybody I can sense it (it’s my personal version of spidey senses, I can feel a good fanfic moment coming miles away)

“You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out” I mean… Derek also drove an explosive rigged ambulance to a self exploding space in like 2 minutes ?? there’s very little that man can't do

“you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm – L/N!” I always feel something akin to a tiny little baby static shock when my name’s just on shit (I always forget the extension is on)

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?” the most “Star” reaction of all time, thank you sm for this

“I love you too – The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt” I can feel this in my bones and I don't know how to better explain it

“one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced” Spidey Senses, never wrong

“It was no longer a show” mA’AM– *deep breath* its okay, she’s still in denial, its fINE

Love Me Love Me by the Travelling Kisses started playing (mind you I put on my Spotify likes, so 1132 songs on shuffle) and I felt genuine pain for how perfectly it fit

“you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder” KSKSKSKS IS THAT PHOTO !! I CANT FIND IT BUT YOU’VE SEEN IT !!! EVERYONES DRAWING THEIR FAV HOMOSEXUALS IN THAT POSE

“JJ handed Derek five dollars” Damn JJ “Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea” OH MY GOD OF COURSE !!!!

“he fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them” and we will have green ring marks on our fingers, happily

“I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn't 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff” I literally just watched this weekend and I dont even remember much outside of the main plot points SKKSKSKS so I think it's absolutely fine

“I highly resisted the urge to end this with 'baby making' smut” which is both fair but also dear god it probably pained you to do so

OKAY !!! I just absolutely loved this !!!! I love the cheesy and angsty moments, also really fun episode to write fic “onto”, we already talked about this but I would love nothing more than make Spencer a father and he’d be SUCH A GOOD HUSBAND AND DAD IT KILLS ME

I definitely not going to deny baby making smut if it comes my way but I also agree this being its own cute little thing is very good (I’d honestly be more interested in a pt 2 following more of their relationship, than focusing more on the smut – which surprises the both of us I Know)

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can't live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

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Full list of warnings and author's notes below.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven't watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there's no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it's not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to 'appeal' to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife' to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name'); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader's true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader's body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer's fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don't really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it's good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn't 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day.

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.

“Rings?” She questioned.

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”

You nodded at this.

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.

…

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.

You were just playing the part.

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.

“Has it been a godly union?”

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.

…

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.

Which ‘one’?

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.

Spencer didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-”

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.

You couldn’t hold yourself back then.

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.

He would protect you because you belonged to him.

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.

…

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

You rolled your eyes sharply at this.

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course.” Reid confirmed.

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”

Of course.

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.

…

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded.

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.

“Come on.” Christopher grunted.

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.

…

Your plan worked flawlessly.

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.

It was the church.

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.

“L/N!”

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: okay, I do have to admit, the ending kind of sucks imo (like the last few paragraphs) because I highly resisted the urge to end this with 'baby making' smut where y/n is like if 'you want kids for real, then we can have kids', and then Spencer just goes nuts. because I did like the more cheesy/romantic love confession ending, and I was getting way too tired to write smut for this. idk if I should do that 'x amount of reblogs for part 2' thing or if I'm just happy with this being a standalone oneshot?? idk. if people ask for a part 2, then I will set a reblog goal for it. and I will work on a part 2 for it after Lesson Two is posted.

#star squared #Live Star Reaction #I always forget to tag these #my bad <3

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