#at this point i think foregoing that kind of thing every once in a while has been what has made a lot of people think

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Things about being a Christian I've had to unlearn as an adult:

Spending a lot of time on/ being invested in something doesn't make it an idol. This is not how that works, bestie. Look. I get that the advice "if you spend more time on x hobby than you do reading the Bible and praying" is well-intentioned, but it's just plain Bad. There are a lot of hobbies that take significant amounts of time. Art. Writing. Trade hobbies, like woodworking. I spent two hours Saturday putting in a garden (now that I have space for one!), and not spending two hours and one minute on Bible reading doesn't mean that gardening is now an idol for me. It means I got into a groove and just kept going (and got terribly sunburned for my trouble). What makes something an idol is NOT how much time you spend on it but rather the importance you place upon it. Sometimes important things take five minutes and sometimes they take an hour; the thing that took five minutes isn't less important because it took up less of your time. If your thought process is "this is more important than spending time with God", that is what makes your hobby an idol. (If you are constantly foregoing your time with God in favor of a hobby, then I'd say you need to re-evaluate your priorities, but spending a lot of time on something does not inherently make it an idol. Not to mention that a lot of hobbies can still bring you closer to God despite not spending that time intentionally for that purpose.)

Not having your "quiet time"/ devotions every day does not make you a "bad" Christian. This goes hand-in-hand with the previous point, and there's a lot I could say on this topic, but what it boils down to is this: God understands our human limits and the brains He gave us that sometimes make it difficult -- autism and ADHD and OCD and [fill in the blank]. I'm autistic. So when (well-meaning) people say things like, "you can't get to know God if you don't spend time with Him!" about praying and reading the Bible -- well, 'spending time' looks different for me. Socializing is difficult for me. And while socializing with God is obviously different than with people, praying is still far more mentally draining for me than for most people (especially growing up in an environment where it was implied that you have to 'say the right things' when you pray instead of just allowing it to be a conversation, but that's the next point). A lot of "socializing" for me is simply being present with someone else. This is called "parallel play": you're doing your own thing in the same space as someone else while they are also doing their own thing. This...doesn't translate well to Christianity and what Christianity is "supposed" to look like, unfortunately, so I constantly felt shame that none of the common advice worked for me when it seemed to work for everyone else. Set a time? Executive dysfunction makes switching tasks hard and once that set time has passed, "well, it's too late now". Having a reading plan? I'd miss a day, fall behind, and the shame at that would keep me from continuing to try. And when I did manage to stay on track, quite often it simply became a box to check off and that was it. So, now, I do what I can, when I can. I always get more out of it, and I think God cares more about that than sticking to a plan just so you can say you read every day anyway.

"Don't script your prayers! They'll become repetitive and you won't think about or mean them!" Oh, boy. Once again, I get the well-intentioned meaning here. You don't want your prayers to become rote and stale. But as someone with high anxiety, scripting them is the only way I can survive praying aloud with other people, and, in fact, it means I put more thought into them, not less! But hearing this kind of advice coupled with an environment where it was implied you had to say 'the right things, the right way' was absolutely detrimental to my prayer life growing up. I was always worried about saying the wrong thing, especially as an undiagnosed autistic who was constantly, ya know, saying the wrong things in conversations with people. So I definitely didn't want to say the wrong things to God! But... I also wasn't allowed to plan what to say? How was I supposed to pray then? So I just. didn't pray. For a very long time. Until I learned its just as perfectly okay to talk to God about whatever crosses your mind while you're standing at the sink doing dishes as it is sitting down with a list of things to focus on. (Not to mention that this really is just...terrible advice in general. Kudos to my pastor, who, in his current Sunday night series on worship, actually gave a tutorial on how to personalize praying the Psalms. So, you know, pre-written prayers.)

Purity Culture. Need I say more? Oh, I could write a whole post about how harmful this is, but plenty of people already have, so I'll leave it at this: I wear what I am comfortable wearing now. Something I love about my church is that our philosophy on modesty is this: The greatest sin of immodesty is saying "look at me" instead of "look at God." In other words, modest isn't about what you're wearing so much as what your attitude about what you're wearing is. If you choose what to wear because you want people to notice and stare and give you compliments, then that is immodest no matter how much of your skin is covered up. It's not immodest to wear clothes you like and that you think are attractive (or that help you look professional when its called for), but ultimately your mindset is really not about "dressing to impress." (There is a very thin line between 'modest' and 'immodest' and its not where most people think it is.)

[tortilla-of-courage]

The only reason I bully/ whatever I do to the typo thing is to point it out, because the only way to improve the hell that is English is practice and having someone to point out your mistakes. apostrophes, yes part of proper grammar, separate the one word form the other so putting it in is kinda useless, also typing fast is bond to have a typo or two. Also I will go by typo anon.

oh yeah for sure! learning a language is all about practice and patience, that's the one thing I've learned in my 15+ years of learning english. but also like, depending on context I'll be more careful with my wording or not. like on a casual conversation or whatever here in my blog for example, I'll try and keep it decent enough that everyone (including people who might not fully dominate english that might follow me) can understand my posts for the most part, but also might just forego a thing or two in favour of speed (specially since for some reason i get like 30 asks a day nowadays??? not sure why). in an academic text I'll overthink every word i use tho lmao and will check that every punctuation choice makes sense.

also in general fixing typoes in the tags is a PAIN specially in a really long tag on mobile so i usually just. don't bother to fix it

anyways spelling/grammar checks are appreciated, though usually im like 90% conscious of any misspellings i make aha

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part Nine (Mycroft Holmes x Reader) SMUT

I am SO sorry for such a big delay between chapters! I’ve just had terrible writer’s block and my mental health has been.. challenging, to say the least! But here’s chapter nine! Sorry if Myc is a little out of character, I didn’t really know how else to write it! This is a shorter chapter but the next few should be longer! And expect some more emotional chapters coming up for when Mycroft finally talks to his parents about Eurus!

Word Count-  3766

Mycroft wasn't entirely sure how long after you had fallen asleep that he had followed suit. He hadn't been planning on falling asleep at all, really; he was rather content simply laying there and thinking over in his mind how he had ended up in this position at all. It was a strange feeling still, feeling the weight of you in his arms, the feeling of your hands bunching in his jumper as though he were your lifeline, the light feeling of your breath skimming the skin of his neck. Strange, and yet welcoming. He was beginning to question why he had never tried harder in seeking this kind of thing out before, but he knew the thought was futile. He wasn't entirely sure he'd have ever wanted to be in this position with anybody else, as cheesy and cliché as he had sounded. He had a reputation to upkeep, an entire persona behind his Iceman nickname, and yet he felt entirely at ease, thawed, if you will, with you.

He had opened his eyes to find his head resting slightly atop yours, facing towards the television that had long since surpassed standby mode and instead remained a dark black. Mycroft couldn't help but focus on the reflection that he could see in its screen, the image of the pair of you laying embraced on the sofa, his hand resting so casually at your back that it could be mistaken for a position that had been practiced for years rather than only a few days. It was nice, he had decided. Nice that things had ended up this way, even if it had taken so many years to get this far. In both his mind and your own, it had honestly felt as though you had been together for far longer; as though it was some unspoken decision between the pair of you that neither of you would take the step to start the relationship, and yet made yourself unavailable for anybody else, cancelled plans to be with the other, enjoyed more meals together than apart. Though of course this was far easier on Mycroft's end, not exactly having many other social dependencies, and a lack of opportunities for such things with other people. Still, he had remained inwardly thankful that you had adhered to the same ideas.

In his own way, he was glad that it had taken as long as it did. It allowed for him to truly know you, far more than any information on a file could give. It let him introduce himself to you properly, allowed for you to truly get to know him, for him to feel comfortable enough around you to lower his walls and drop his public, heartless politician façade. Not that he had much choice in the latter part. You knew from day dot that it was, as you delightfully put, "a load of old bollocks." Though you never once taunted him for it, not really, at least not in a bad way. You just enjoyed teasing from time to time. Mycroft Holmes had always been the kind of man to laugh at the idea of things as trivial as fate, the whole 'being at the right place at the right time', or even luck, always claiming that every event was purely cause and effect. And yet, he found his ever so brilliant mind allowing himself to, for once, divulge into the prospects of it, liking the idea that perhaps the Universe wasn't always so cruel. And with this rarely optimistic thought in mind, Mycroft once again found his arm tightening slightly around you and allowed his eyes to close- not to sleep, but to take up the rare opportunity in his usually hectic life to just relax.

---

Only 15 or so minutes had passed since Mycroft had woken up before you began to stir slightly, the hand that was fisted into his jumper moved and instead wound beneath his arm, holding at his shoulder blade and pulling yourself impossibly closer to him, your leg twisting slightly and angling your hip to brush against Mycroft's crotch with just enough pressure to make him gasp. Mycroft had blinked slowly, trying to register the sensation while simultaneously trying to ignore it. He had felt his body stiffen, which had clearly been unwelcome to your sleeping form. You had turned once again, other hand circling his neck and tugging closer, pressing against him once more and humming at the warmth. Mycroft coughed rather loudly, face burning, eyes wide, utterly mortified and, quite frankly, half hard.

He was truly embarrassed, his body reacting in such a juvenile way from the slightest of touch. He cursed himself for his lack of control and placed his atheism aside to pray to God that it would just go away. It's not that Mycroft had never paid that part of his body any attention- he was human after all- but with his usually busy work schedule, and then the Eurus mishap, and of course having you in his home, he hadn't allowed himself to.. indulge.. so to speak. So clearly the smallest hint of friction was enough to turn him into a teenager again. He had also noticed that in your movements the hem of your shirt had lifted just enough that Mycroft's hand was now resting against bare skin and he swallowed thickly.

Mycroft had, of course, contemplated the idea of sex- in any form- in his past. It was in college that he had noticed his peers coming into school with hickeys on their necks, conversed between each other of their sexual encounters, parading body counts, and in University where he had found himself accidentally walking in on far too many students going at it in various cupboards and empty classrooms. He had taken a brief interest but soon let it die down when he had never found anybody interested in him, nor anybody he was interested in. Of course with his occupation and links there had always been the option to fulfil such desires with the security of utmost privacy, but Mycroft had never been keen on the idea of paying for sex. So that, of course, left him in the position of being completely sexually inexperienced, which had never bothered him or caused him any embarrassment until this very moment.

When allowing himself to enter the relationship with you, Mycroft of course suspected that sex would be on the cards at some point, but he had hoped it wouldn't be the result of basic instinct like this. Previously, the idea of being that intimate with you had been an exciting prospect, but now all that was left was embarrassment of his history, and insecurity of his body.

"God, how long have we been out? I feel incredible." You muttered against his skin, not making any effort to move away from the cocoon of warmth that Mycroft was providing. You hummed appreciatively at the feeling of the elder Holmes' hand on your back and the heartbeat that you felt under the fingers on his chest. Only the heartbeat was significantly increased since before you had fallen asleep. "Myc? You okay?" Now you did move, angling your neck to look at the flushed features of the man you were lying next to. Mycroft coughed and nodded weakly, making any slight attempt to angle his pelvis away from you. "If you're sure..? Was I being too clingy? Honestly, you can tell me and I'll stop hanging on you like a baby monkey." You heard a quiet 'no' and smiled. "Okay good, because I REALLY like the cuddling." You shuffled in a little closer and continued. "And, please don't shove me off, I think you like it too because you didn't let me fall and yo- Oh!" Your fidgeting had allowed your thigh to once again rub against Mycroft's erection and he hissed slightly.

"Y/N I can only offer my utmost apologies for reacting in such a callow manner." He stuttered out, making every attempt to wriggle his way from your grip with the idea of making a beeline for the door.

"You don't need to apologise, Mycroft. If anything, I should apologise for uh.. friction? Or perhaps Da Vinci should apologise for discovering friction in the first place?" You breathed a small laugh but Mycroft only remained stiff and uncomfortable. You manoeuvred yourself until you'd both sat up, you sideways slightly with your legs resting across Mycroft's lap and covering him. "Sorry, I tried to make a sciency joke to make you laugh. It was just my way of saying that you're okay and that you shouldn't be embarrassed. If anything, I'm flattered." You laughed slightly again and Mycroft's shoulders slightly relaxed. "Christ, I could, that's if you want to and please do not feel pressured, I could.. help. If you wanted to?" His eyes widened dramatically, brows raising to his hairline while his jaw comically opened slightly in shock.

"I don't.. that is.. you don't have..I-" In a rare moment of time, Mycroft found himself lost for words and an appropriate reaction.

"Don't worry, just forget about it. We don't have to do anything like that until you're ready.. If you're ever ready, that is.. If you don't.. do that.. kinda stuff, that's fine too." And now you were propositioning that you were willing to forego any kind of sexual activity should Mycroft never want it? Why? You answered his unspoken question with a chuckle. "I mean, I've gone 5 years without it, what's the rest of our lives?" Mycroft closed his eyes and took a breath.

"No. It's not that I don't.. want to.. I just.. I, well.. I'm a very busy man and I always have been so.."

"Mycroft, quite frankly I couldn't care less whether you've done anything with a hundred women or none at all. If anything, I find it kinda hot that you haven't. And even more hot if I were the one to change that." He nodded slowly and you smiled back at him. "Is that a yes? Because it doesn't have to be if you don't want it to be. We have all the time in the world."

"Yes."

"Okay. Just promise me you'll tell me if you want to stop." He nodded again. "Promise me, Myc."

"I.. I promise."

--------- sexy times warning ---------

You raised your hand slowly to brush against his face before leaning in and pressing your lips against his. Mycroft sighed in content as you let your thumb graze his cheekbone. Shifting position, you moved your knees to either side of his thighs, straddling him slightly but with your weight resting above his knees, your other hand circling to hold the back of his neck.

"This okay?"

"Mmm." You let your lips travel along his jawbone, nipping slightly at skin and smirking in triumph at the tiny gasps leaving the politician's mouth. Running your hands from his neck down his chest, tugging slightly at the thick jumper in silent plea. Mycroft raised his arms slightly, giving you the access to lift it and chuck it at the side. Wincing, you watched as it knocked the half cup of cold coffee you left on the side, the brown liquid splashing from its porcelain confinements onto the burgundy cotton.

"Please don't tell me that jumper's some four-figured item hand crafted by only the finest of maids in a remote Peruvian town.." Mycroft took his focus back and grimaced.

"Five, and Venezuelan." You stiffened and gulped slightly. "I'm kidding, it's only from M&S." A dazed grin on his face, hands squeezing ever so slightly at your hips. The back of your hand slapped his chest as you relaxed again, breathing out a laugh.

"You are a very cruel man, Mr Holmes." Head lowering to kiss at his neck once more. "You're bloody lucky that you're pretty." His low chuckle was cut off with a deep hum as you bit softly at his collarbone. You dragged your hands down again, fingering at the top buttons on Mycroft's shirt, and not missing how his body became tight. "We don't have to take it off if you don't want to." Relaxed once more. "Can I just undo a few? You'll be more comfortable I reckon without being strangled by a shirt collar." He nodded once. And then again when you double checked. And once more with a small 'yes' when you really wanted to make sure. Taking it slowly, you opened the top three buttons; two to give Mycroft's neck more breathing space, and the other to give your hand enough space to explore the new area of skin- fingers brushing over the top of his chest, auburn chest hair tickling between your digits. You kissed him again, tongue running ever so slightly across his bottom lip; relishing at the small whimper as you pulled away. Myc let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding when your palm dragged down from his chest and to the front of his trousers, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you rubbed slowly. You looked up once more to make sure you weren't taking things too quickly, E/C meeting the tiniest speck of blue that hadn't been hidden from his blown pupils.

"Please?" His voice was barely a whisper, and you were sure you wouldn't have heard it if you hadn't been as close to him as you are now. You tugged at his belt and threw it with the caffeine infused sweatshirt, popping the button of his trousers open and lowering the zip. Mycroft threw his head back against the sofa cushions as you reached in and began to stroke him slowly, your lips latching onto the much better exposed neck. You experimentally gave a twist of your hand each time you reached the head, thumb brushing over the pre-cum that had formed at the tip and using it to slick up your hand- the elder Holmes let out a low moan from his throat, fingers digging into your hips so tightly that you wouldn't be surprised if they left small bruises. Not that you minded, anyway. Hearing Mycroft make those noises under your touch was exhilarating, and knowing you were the first to do such a thing only spurred the excitement on more. You could feel his thighs tighten beneath you, his breathing become slightly more ragged. You hadn't expected him to have lasted long, and you began to recognise the warning signs. Removing your hand completely, you couldn't help but send Mycroft an apologetic smile at the look of disappointment in his face.

"Look, I've already ruined a jumper and I'll be damned if I'm the cause of ruining your trousers too- which are certainly not from Marks and Sparks." You shimmied yourself back until you could feel the plush rug beneath your feet, dropping yourself until you were on your knees between his open legs. You could see in his eyes how he wanted to protest, or make some explanation on how it's unsanitary, but Mycroft's sheer need fed by his curiosity won over and he closed his eyes in waiting, regaining slight control over his breath before choking on it as you slowly ran your tongue from the base of his shaft to the head. "Unless you want me to stop?"

"Good God, no." His voice raised, making you grin as you took him into your mouth completely, head bobbing in a steady rhythm with your hand that pumped what you couldn't reach. Mycroft was certainly larger than any man you had been with before; his long slender cock suiting his form perfectly. You hummed as you imagined later sexual encounters with him- him filling you completely at last- and he writhed as the vibrations ran straight through him. Without a warning, you removed your hand and took him into your mouth completely, sucking and licking against the long vein that ran on the underside of his erection. Myc's hands instinctively shot to your hair as he felt the warmth build in his stomach, quickly cumming with a shout as you hummed around him once more. You pulled off him slowly with an audible 'pop', trying not to overstimulate while he was still sensitive, and tucked him back into his trousers. He tried to balance his breathing, removing his hands from your hair and running them through his own. Standing back up, you glanced over his form- his hair absolutely wild, shirt unbuttoned sligthly, red hairs poking between the fabric from a heaving chest, mouth still slightly open as he breathed, cheeks flushed immensely. God he looked gorgeous.

"Was that.. uh. Good?" You inwardly cringed at your words. Christ woman, you just blew him, not given him a cake. Uncharacteristically for Mycroft, his pale hand reached over to cup your cheek, bringing your lips to his in a sweet kiss; his tongue experimentally running across your bottom lip before pulling away. "Right, okay. That answered my question on where you stand on kissing after. With you sat there looking all messed up and sexy I was about ready to run and brush my teeth to kiss you again."

"Apologies.. I found myself.. curious."

"You bloody pervert." You winked, leaning to kiss him again. "So you'll kiss me after.. after.." You tried to think of a word that wouldn't sound overly vulgar to the man who had swallowed several dictionaries in several different languages.

"Fellatio?"

"Christ on a bike, Mycroft if you call it that I'll never do it again." The pair of you laughed like a pair of idiots for a moment before you continued on. "Anyway.. You'll kiss me after I do that and deem it 'curiosity', but I dip my chip in a milkshake and that's considered 'improper'? I'm starting to think you make up these rules to best suit you."

"Well, one should indulge in the odd act of impropriety sometimes, else I fear we'd go insane."

"So you WILL dip a chip in the milkshake next time?"

"Oh God, no. I'd rather snack on one of Sherlock's experiments." You both laughed again before silence took over, Mycroft's brain whirring as he tried to both comprehend what had happened, and work out the appropriate way to go on.

"You know, there isn't any written etiquette on how to behave after your partner blows you on the sofa." A raised eyebrow in response. "I am not calling it fellatio.." You reached over and grabbed the tv remote, flicking it back on.

"And you said you couldn't read minds.." As the screen began to power on, you heard a small chuckle from beside you.

"What?"

"No it's nothing. Just ignore me." He bit down onto two fingers slightly to compose himself; the composure being short-lived as he started off again. You tilted your head at him, urging him to speak about what had suddenly crossed his mind.

"Sorry I was just thinking about this morning."

"Bernice? Bit of a weird thing for your mind to flitter to right now, isn't it? Maybe I should be concerned you'll sack me off for her; one bit of action and you're planning to wed the nympho." You teased, loading britbox back up with the intention of continuing your filmathon- a word you used and Myc hated.. so you used it more.

"Before that. What you said this morning, after I heard you wince and ask-"

"Head.. And I said 'who knows what the day will bring'." You snickered into your hand and slouched back, resting slightly aside Mycroft's shoulder. "Speaking of that.. I do hope you're aware that I don't typically do that after only dating somebody for little less than a week."

"Usually wait two, do you?" You slapped his arm.

"Cheeky prick, I'm being serious! I don't want to make it all mushy and awkward so I'll say it, you don't respond and then we'll start up Carry On Camping. Deal?" He nodded his head slightly, bowing it towards you in gesture to continue. "Doing.. that.. and you letting me, it meant a lot. Which probably sounds weird for what it was but, and don't let this over stroke your ego, I don't feel like we've only been together a week. It just feels like we've been together for years with a random rule of celibacy that an innocent nap on the sofa broke. So.. there. I dunno.. I'm just.. proud of you? For taking that step with me.. and I'm massively looking forward to a few steps time when I can get your kit off." You coughed the last sentence with a laugh. True to his agreement, Mycroft didn't say a word. You played the next film and grinned when you felt a long arm wrap behind your back, tugging you to his form gently before warm lips pressed against your temple.

From an outside perspective, your little speech would likely seem a tad bizarre but you knew it probably meant a lot to Mycroft- the kiss on your head solidifying that fact. So you were more than willing to spurt a few awkward sentences for the sake of his reassurance; pleased that it was received well and not like some 'well done for trying' certificate you'd get in primary school for coming 6th in the sack race.

"Ooh this one has Babs in it, doesn't it? God I loved Barbara Windsor."

"Mmm. I met Dame Barbara once, a fair few years ago now. She truly was wonderful." Mycroft praised.

"Of course you met her, her last name's Windsor. You'd do anything to get to anything related to The Queen."

"Dame Barbara's surname was actually Deeks. She changed it to Windsor, inspired by Her Majesty, in 1954 following her role in 'The Belles of St Trinian's."

"Mycroft, sweetheart, I was joking. You told me you'd met her when she was given her title. I was a Barbara fangirl, I know." You twisted and pecked him on the cheek, not even noticing the petname that certainly didn't fall on deaf ears from Myc. The side of his mouth flicked up in a small smile; his hand squeezing slightly on your hip before he leaned over and spoke quietly.

"Thank you."

"What fo-"

"Shhh, film's starting." And with that, the pair of you settled into a comfortable silence, being broken only every now and then with your laughter as you watched the telly. Mycroft's smiles and light hearted reactions came from watching you much more than the film, but he didn't think you noticed. Or if you did, you didn't say a word.

TAGLIST

@lola4pedro​

[restapesta]

hii emina!! #14 for valentine’s day 💌 (for the february ask meme) <33

Tami couldn't help but feel fucking jealous. Offended too, for that matter.

Lip forgot fucking Valentine's Day—Valentine's day—and now Tami was forced to sit in the kitchen with the gathered-around Gallagher & Co, watching how Ian and Mickey annoyingly proved the fact that she could do so much better than fucking Lip.

For fuck's sake, he didn't remember goddamn Valentine's day. It wouldn't have been a big deal had he not almost forgotten their anniversary, too. Tami got that shit was stressful these days—that Lip wasn't all that happy with his delivery-boy job and their 'temporary' stay at the Gallagher house with his abundance of siblings, but seriously. That didn't mean she had to sit around stoically on fucking celebrate-your-love day, knowing she had been forgotten, while simultaneously watching the it couple of their family making kissy faces at each other.

Maybe they weren't making kissy faces, exactly—Tami would pay to see Mickey do anything in that realm, really—but did they have to be so obnoxiously in love? All while Tami was mourning her own loss of a Valentine?

She wasn't a teenager anymore, goddamn it, but she deserved nice things, at least once or twice a year. Some fucking day where she could feel special and completely in love, despite living with ten other people and kind of, sort of being in debt.

Tami was in love with Lip. She was fairly certain he was in love with her too, but did he have to forego this one thing from his memory? Did he have to invite Mickey and Ian over for a family dinner to rub salt into the wound?

Tami was fucking fine with Ian and Mickey on most days—it wasn't even as if she saw them all too often now that they had moved out (she even sort of missed them)—and their displays of affection were more sweet to her than anything.

It was cute seeing Ian pull Mickey into a kiss randomly before he went off to work at the warehouse. Or Mickey wrapping his hands around Ian's waist while they cooked dinner together, prolonging the creation of the simplest of meals, like boxed mac-and-cheese, just so they could hang around each other domestically, a little bit longer.

Nobody minded it all too much when they did those small things, and they were pretty much used to the constant sex-talk, however inappropriate and explicit. Somehow even the never-ending bickering stopped bothering them so much.

But god-fucking-damn-it, why did they have to rub it in her face now?

Ugh, fine, we get it, you're celebrating Valentine's day like a normal couple, being all lovey-dovey and shit. We get it.

They probably spent the entire day being sickly sweet and in love, like fucking teenagers. So gross.

Why the actual fuck did Lip forget?

Tami shot daggers Ian and Mickey's way, watching as they, in the middle of the Gallagher cluster-fuck—they were having dinner like usual, a cacophony of noises filling the slightly-renovated space up, something Tami had already gotten used to—talked lowly amongst each other, slight smiles on their faces.

They were so happy about fucking nothing as they sipped on respective beers, matching rings glinting on their fingers, now blinding to Tami's eyes when they had only been pretty before.

When would Lip propose?

Nope, nope, nope. Back to the current married couple, Tami thought.

They pulled apart, their heads no longer huddled together in some secret, husband talk. Ian placed bread onto Mickey's plate, reaching across for the salt, murmuring something about, Mickey liking everything unbelievably salty like a crazy person.

Fuck off, Gallagher. At least I don't like spicy shit.

Well, I don't think you should be surprised I like spicy things. I married you, didn't I?

A beat as they stared at each other lovingly—yuck, ew, disgusting—and then came Mickey's reply.

Sap.

Her eyes narrowed impossibly as she watched them steal fucking glances when the other one wasn't looking. Fucking glances, like teenagers who just discovered their crush liked them back and were about to have their first fucking kiss.

Ugh, why did they have to be so goddamn in love all the time?

Tami even remembered meeting Mickey for the first time, thinking how there was no way in fucking hell he and Ian were together. No way they were anything more than, what, fuck-buddies?

She also remembered the look Mickey wore once Ian entered the room, in all his beautiful glory, his entire face just lighting up like a fucking street lamp when the sun goes down. Eyes crinkling at the corners, an upturn of his mouth, a goddamn gleam appearing in his features.

Tami couldn't believe that the guy who literally just got out of prison was staring openly at his—boyfriend?—with so much intensity and love. The moment Tami had slipped out of view, she saw them share a kiss, all smiley, and shit.

She couldn't believe it then, but she could believe it now.

Why were they so in love?

How could somebody be so in love?

Tami had fallen in love a couple of times. She'd had unrequited crushes and first boyfriends, and older men who appeased to her daddy issues—still, she'd never quite had what Ian and Mickey had. Not that she thought anybody did.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she interrupted whatever conversation the two men in question were landing. They were talking still, bodies practically pressed together as they got unnaturally close at the dining table.

Tami was curious. She wanted to know.

She wanted to know how. How in the holy hell did somebody fall in love so fucking hard that they never let each other go? That they went through every single fucking obstacle they stumbled upon, still walking out alive in the end?

With Lip and their relationship, it was just good until it wasn't and until Tami was a second away from picking up their child and walking away, no matter how good of a father to her child her boyfriend was, and how much she actually loved him.

With Debbie and Sandy, it was being attached by the hip, together in all ways, until all of a fucking sudden, Sandy was gone. Gone from their lives as she had never even been there, replaced by somebody completely insane.

There was Carl, who Tami had never even seen in a committed relationship.

She didn't even want to mention fucking Frank and Monica if the stories Lip had told her were any true.

So, Tami asked.

"Can you guys tell me something," Her tone was only slightly accusing, the bitterness seeping through as she found herself going through a third bottle of Old Style. Even Lip raised his eyes up from the food and over to look at Tami as she addressed everyone's favorite gay couple.

"How in the holy fuck do you manage it?"

Ian and Mickey shared a glance—a fucking glance like they were reading each other's minds—before Ian raised an eyebrow.

"Manage what?"

"Being this seemingly perfect couple."

Lip nudged her foot in question just as Mickey snorted, placing the beer away from his lips so he could properly laugh. Ian rolled his eyes at it.

"We're not fucking perfect," was Mickey's simple answer.

Tami shook her head. "No. No, listen. I get that you're not perfect but I just don't get how. How do you just have this relationship?"

Ian seemed confused. "And what do you think this relationship is?"

"Do you guys even hear yourselves ninety percent of the fucking time?"

Debbie snorted at that. All eyes went to her. "Course they don't. They probably wouldn't be doing them if they did."

"What are we doing?" Mickey asked, and Tami scoffed when she noticed him moving his chair slightly away so he wasn't practically sitting in Ian's lap.

"Why are you asking this shit?" Lip whispered from beside her, apprehension in his gaze. Tami hoped he was slightly offended.

She was really fucking offended.

So, she continued, downing her beer in almost one go.

"I'm talking about how you're joined at the hip."

Ian shook his head. "No, we're not."

Liam made an 'eh' motion with his hands, chiming in, "You live together, you work together. You probably spent the entire day together."

Tami nodded at the boy in agreement. "How do you not get, like, bored of each other?"

They briefly shared another look before Ian shrugged. "I like hanging around him. Mickey's fun company."

Tami groaned, not realizing how they managed to just be so casual about things that didn't make sense to her.

"See?" She said. "I'd probably die if I had to spend more than a couple of hours with the same person, let alone my entire fucking day."

"We get annoyed with each other," Ian defended. "We fight, like, all the time."

Mickey shot him a glare. "Not all the time. Just when you're being an annoying bitch."

"Of when you're being an annoying bitch, Mr. Know-it-all."

"Fuck you, I do know it all."

Ian took a sip of his beer. "Uh-uh. Mr. Milkovich, knows everything about everything."

"Well, I gotta know shit if I wanna put up with your ass the rest of my life."

Ian's face softened suddenly from the playful bickering, sending Mickey a soft smile.

"What are you smiling at, dork?"

Ian's happy expression didn't falter. "You said the rest of your life."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Duh? Thought we were married?"

"Just," Ian shrugged. "Makes me happy to hear it."

Then they smiled at each other all soft, and Tami just barely suppressed a gag. She felt like she'd just been dumped and was forced to attend some love rally.

How to feel single 101.

"Do you, like, not see my point here?"

Mickey looked towards her, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why do you care so much, right now? It's not that big of a deal that Ian's a complete and utter sap," He shot a playful look in Ian's direction. "We're married and we've been together for a fucking while. We're allowed to act..."

Mickey hesitated.

"We're allowed to be in love without worrying whether or not we'll be judged for it or fucking get told to stop." He cast his eyes downward. "We've had enough of that shit already."

It wasn't silent for long, but Mickey's words rang loud in Tami's ears.

She didn't know a lot about Ian and Mickey during the first years of their relationship—she had only met them after fucking ten years of being together, after all—but she knew enough to be able to say with confidence that it couldn't have been easy. And knowing that, she could easily tell how she was being somewhat of a nagging bitch.

"Don't worry," Tami said softly. "I'm not judging you. Just," She sighed loudly before continuing, "admiring the way you're just completely enamored with each other. It makes you wonder, you know? What you could have."

The two seemed somewhat eased with that, smiles appearing on their faces as they looked at each other, like they knew that what Tami was giving them was a compliment, not judgment. But then, Tami's words set in.

All eyes went to Lip.

Tami's own widened.

"I did not mean it like that!" She defended immediately, shifting so she could look at Lip who was more than hurt by the look in his eye. Tami spoke to him as she said, "It's just that, today's fucking Valentine's day, and—"

"Today's Valentine's day?"

It was Ian who asked out of the blue, and she turned to look at him, wondering what he was talking about. He was looking at Mickey who seemed just as confused.

Of course it was Valentine's day. Tami had been bitter the entire day because it was fucking Valentine's day.

"It is?" Mickey said, eyes going warily towards Ian.

"So, we just, uh, forgot about it?"

Mickey nodded, a weird look on his face like he had forgotten their anniversary or some shit. "I guess so."

Tami was just about to open her mouth. Just about to ask if they really didn't spend the day being lovey-dovey with each other since it was Valentine's day, but rather because every day was obviously Valentine's day for them, when Lip spoke.

"Today's the thirteenth, Tami, for fuck's sake. Valentine's day is tomorrow." He smiled at her, seemingly catching onto why she had been so inquisitive in the first place. "Don't worry, I didn't forget."

Tami's mouth fell open and she only managed a simple 'oh'. Lip seemed content. Not at all caught by surprise at her statement. Maybe he really hadn't forgotten.

"Well, uh," She stammered out, heat crawling up her neck. "Good."

Lip smiled at her.

Ian's voice interrupted their staring contest.

"Wait, so you forgot Valentine's day?" He asked Mickey, an incredulous look on his face.

"Um, excuse me bitch, you forgot it, too!"

Ian scoffed. "So, you're telling me we'd wake up tomorrow and what, just continue on like always?"

"Well, you shoulda had something planned then, Ian!"

"Me? Why me?"

Mickey made a 'duh' face. "You fucking forgot it, too. Why would it be me?"

"Well, I'm sorry for having a million things going on right now."

"What million things, Ian? I'm literally with you every second of the day. What things?"

"Well," He started in a tone that didn't bode anything well. "you see, some of us—"

"Oh no, you fucking won't with that sentence."

Tami watched as the it couple fought over forgetting Valentine's day.

She laughed at the sight of them, bickering and shouting, not really angry but enjoying the fight.

They'd still be sappy as fuck the next day. They'd still be lovey-dovey, making kissy faces at each other.

This was what she meant.

They were best friends. Lovers. Partners. Always by each other's sides.

Tami looked over towards Lip.

Maybe she had one too.

[triplexdoublex]

I’ll Try Anything At Least Once

Pairings: Colson x Reader 

Warnings/Tags:  Watersports/piss kink/wetting , omorashi/desperation, biting, praise kink

A/N: Here have another one of my older reworked fics while I finish up the other 3 fics i have going right now. I promise the next one will be brand new.

“Baby, you’ve barely touched your water,” Colson says from where he sits across from you at the table of your favorite casual restaurant, located in your local mall. You’re there celebrating your two-year anniversary.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, it’s just that this steak is so damn good,” you say as you reach for your water glass. Colson watches intently as you take a large gulp, almost finishing the whole glass. “Guess, I was thirsty,” you laugh. “The food’s delicious, but it’s definitely salty.”

“Aye, after dinner, I was thinking we could go get you some new lingerie and I, uh… I kinda wanna try something new tonight.” He smiles as he refills your water glass from the small, glass pitcher on the table.

“Ooooh, like what?” you smirk. “You know I’ll try anything at least once.”

“You’ll see,” he teases. “Now drink up.”

You’re not sure what his current obsession with your water intake is, but you drink nonetheless. By the time the waitress returns to see if you would like dessert, you’ve finished your second glass. Colson immediately refills it as you look over the dessert menus.

“Colson, what the hell is up with you and the water tonight?” you ask, perplexed by this odd behavior. “For God’s sake, I’m about to piss myself.”

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, his  blonde eyelashes fluttering closed briefly at your words.

“Maybe that’s the point,” he speaks, his voice low and lust-filled.

“Colson, you can’t be serious,” you practically laugh, taken aback.

“I am,” he admits with blushing cheeks, “but if you’re not into it, just forget I said anything, alright?” he states, sounding slightly defensive.

“Hey… no, look, I’m sorry,” you apologize as you reach out to stroke his arm. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all. I meant what I said earlier; I’ll really try anything at least once.” You smile apologetically and can’t help but to be intrigued by his kink.

You decide to forego dessert and make your way to the lingerie store where Colson picks out a simple, yet sexy, silky, white bra and panty set with lace detail.

“These are gonna look so good on you when they’re all soaked and clinging to your pussy,” he whispers seductively in your ear from behind you, placing them in your hand. You never thought you’d be into this kind of thing, and maybe it’s just the lust in Colson’s voice or the three cups of water weighing heavy in your bladder right now, but something deep in your pelvis stirs at his words.

Colson stays close behind you as you head to the cashier. The line is long, as it always is when the holidays are near, and the need to use the bathroom is getting stronger with each passing minute. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you sway your hips in desperation, trying to resist the urge to physically hold yourself in public. Suddenly you feel Colson’s hand on your hips, stilling their movements.

“Baby, you’re killing me right now,” he says softly, digging his chin into your shoulder from behind you. “Feel what your little dance is doing to me?” he breathes in your ear, discreetly pressing his clothed erection against your backside.

“Colson!” you warn, reaching for the various lotions and body sprays that line checkout area, smelling them to distract yourself and ultimately picking out a few to purchase.

When it’s finally your turn to check out, you place your items down and brace yourself with your hands on the counter, crossing your legs at the ankles and squeezing your thighs together, effectively holding back the stream threatening to run down your legs.

After the transaction is complete, Colson takes the bag, strategically carrying it in front of himself. “Let’s head to the bathroom,” he suggests as you exit the store, heading back into the mall.

You’ve never felt more relieved to hear those words, but the feeling is short lived. Once inside the single stall family restroom, you begin frantically pulling down your panties as you make your way to the toilet, but Colson stops you.

“Unh-uh, that’s not what we’re here for,” he teases with a smirk, stepping between you and your destination, palm pressed against your shoulder.

“Colson, please!” you plead, clutching at your bare crotch, panties halfway down your thighs.

“No,” he answers sternly, “but feel free to keep begging. I love how needy and desperate you sound,” he says huskily. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

“Then why are we here?” you groan, beginning to pull your panties back up.

“Aye, not so fast,” Colson places his hand on the crotch of your panties, stopping you from pulling them back up. “Baby, these are all wet,” he says, caught off guard by his accidental findings. “It better not be…” he pauses, trailing his hand up your inner thigh and discovering your slick folds. “Mmmmm, good girl. You like holding yourself for me, don’t you?” he teases, bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

“Maybe,” you smirk with blushing cheeks, unable to tell where the pressure of your full bladder stops and the pooling sexual desire in your abdomen begins, the two sensations mingling as one. Colson smiles, reaching into the pink striped bag of your purchases and pulling out the matching bra and panty set he bought you.

“Here put these on,” he says, tossing them to you. “That’s why I brought you in here.”

“Now?” you question. “Why don’t we just wait until we get home?”

“Cuz when we get home, I just wanna take them off you… after you wet them for me, that is.” 

You do as you’re told, stripping out of your current undergarments and replacing them with the new ones as Colson watches intently, resting against the wall.

“You should help me with this while we’re in here too,” he teases, cupping his obvious erection, showing off the large outline through his jeans.

You squat down in front of him, not wanting to kneel on the public restroom floor, the positioning making you all the more desperate for relief. Colson unzips his jeans and you tug them down to mid-thigh, followed by his boxers, his bare ass pressed against the cold tile wall.

With one hand on the back of your head and the other grasping his length, he guides himself into your mouth. You bob over his length half-assed and sloppily, too focused on clenching your muscles trying not to pee. Colson notices your lack of skill at the moment, taking over and pumping himself, but he doesn’t mind. The sight of you squatting and squirming, hand pressed firmly to your core is enough to bring him close to the edge.

Assisting the best you can, you lick and suck on the head of Colson’s length as he strokes himself, occasionally slapping the tip against your tongue. The fullness of your bladder is becoming close to unbearable, and you let out a muffled, high-pitched whine as a strong urge to release washes over you, causing you to clutch yourself with both hands. The sound and sight is enough to send Colson over the edge.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna c-cum,” he chokes out in a barely audible, throaty moan as he guides his length to the back of your tongue, spilling down your throat. You do your best to swallow every drop, running the tip of your tongue over his slit, making him shudder before pulling him from your mouth completely.

“Listen, I’m all for pissing myself for you baby, really I am, but I’d rather it not happen by accident in public, so if we could head home now, that would be great,” you practically beg as you throw your dress back on.

“Oh, you’re no fun.,” he teases, doing a slight jump to get his skinny jeans back up over his ass and zipping them.

“Colson, please!” you plead, bouncing in desperation.

“Kidding, kidding,” he laughs. “Let’s go before you make me hard again.”

***********************************

“Are you doing that on purpose?” you ask, ripping your seatbelt off on the way home.

“Doin’ what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Hitting every damn pothole so my seatbelt squeezes my bladder!”

“Maybe,” he laughs, “But come on, baby, put your seatbelt back on. I’ll stop. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he says seriously, reaching across your body to grab the belt, one hand on the steering wheel.

“Fine,” you answer, taking the belt from his hand and buckling yourself back in, all while giving Colson a warning eye.

He keeps his word but the ride seems to last forever, and you don’t know how much longer you can hold it. You spend the rest of the drive with your hands squeezed tightly between your shaking legs, and your head leaned back on the headrest with eyes clenched tight.

“Baby, we’re home,” Colson says, lightly grazing his hand over your lower abdomen, breaking you from your concentration. You moan at his touch, the light pressure causing you to feel like you’re about to piss or cum, you can’t distinguish which. Colson helps you out of the car and into the house.

“Baby please, I can’t hold it any longer,” you beg the second you’re through the front door.

“Fine,” Colson says, quickly pulling your black dress up and over your head, tossing it to the floor and throwing your lingerie clad body over his shoulder.

“Colson!” you shriek, the pressure from his shoulder against your bladder forcing a trickle to run down his chest and darken a large spot on his heathered grey shirt.

“Mmmm, baby,” Colson moans at the warm sensation. “Come on, we’re almost there, you can hold it. You’re doing so good,” he praises, as he carries you up the stairs. You’re not exactly sure what his plan is, but you assumed whatever he had planned for this would take place in the bathroom, so you’re more than surprised when he carries you to the bedroom and tosses you down on the sheets of your unmade bed.

“Colson, I told you I can’t hold it anymore,” you plead, laying on your back with your knees tightly pressed together.

“I know… go,” he smirks, palming himself through his jeans.

“Here?! b-but the bed…” you exclaim, sitting up suddenly, grabbing at the sheets on either side of you.

“Don’t worry about the bed baby, we got one of those mattress protectors when we bought the mattress and I’ll take care of the sheets myself,” he promises. “Now, come on baby, wet for me,” he begs, as he pushes your panties to the side, inserting two fingers.

“Colson, fuck,” you whimper as his fingers curls upwards inside of you, forcing small spurts of urine out.

“Come on, more baby, let it all go,” he says, pulling his fingers from you, licking the wetness that’s gathered on them as he pulls his length from his jeans with his free hand and begins pumping himself.

You close your eyes and relax your bladder expecting a large gush, but only an agonizingly slow stream starts to flow due to the pressure in your overfull bladder. Colson strokes himself, watching and praising you with half-lidded eyes as what’s left of the dry spots on your white panties turn wet and translucent, clinging to the contours of your folds.

After a few moments, the pressure lessens and the flow picks up into a gush, flowing through the white fabric of your panties in a stream, soaking the bed around you. The relief is almost orgasmic, causing you to moan and whimper as your bladder finishes emptying.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. So good for me baby,” Colson praises when you finish, his eyes glazed over by lust in a way you’ve never seen them before.

He turns you over onto your hands and knees, moaning as he runs his hands over the wet fabric, admiring how they cling to your backside before pushing them to the side and entering you quickly. Guttural moans of your name form in his throat as he harshly grips your hips, slamming into you at a relentless pace. The wetness of your panties transfers to the skin of his pelvis with every thrust. He takes notice, gliding his hand over the moisture on his skin.

“Oh, shit!” he cries out, driven insane with pleasure at the feeling and picking up the pace, fucking you harder than he ever has in the two years you’ve been together.

“Yeah, baby, just like that. Fuck me, fuck, me!” you chant, loving his new-found intensity. He continues thrusting at a fast pace, sounds of colliding wet skin echoing throughout the room.

“Oh God, Colson, fuck,” you cry out, gripping the sheets as orgasm nears.

Leaning over your back, Colson reaches around to your clit, rubbing fast-paced circles through your soaked panties. Kissing roughly along the width of your shoulders, he sinks his perfect teeth into the crook of your neck, hard enough to leave marks as he cums. You bounce back on his length as he rides out his orgasm with slow, hard thrusts, achieving your climax moments later which jolts through you like lightning.

“Oh fuck!” you scream as your arms weaken, your face sinking into the pillow.

Colson sings your praises of how amazing you did for him as he peppers your back with gentle kisses before pulling out. You roll to the dry side of the bed and Colson collapses on top of you, the both of you out of breath.

“Oh God, baby, thank you.” Colson expresses his gratitude as he kisses your neck. “You have no idea how much that got me going.”

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.” you tease. “Let’s just say we will definitely be doing this again.

[jojo-reader-hell]

May I please request headcanons for Mikitaka, Rohan, and Kira’s reactions to their s/o telling them she’s pregnant ?

“Oh! Splendid news! I suppose the injections were working after all.”

You froze right in the middle of putting Mr. Jingles back into his enclosure, the little mouse taking the initiative to hop from your hands into his nest of hay. Realistically you had wanted your surprise to be something sweet, but with your boyfriend it wasn’t easy for him to understand nuance or the reason you hid things from him. He asked you outright why your menstrual period was late this month. Totally blunt and to the point.

But this bullshit?!

“What do you mean ‘injections’?” You ask, horrified at the answer.

Mikitaka brightens up, and when he brightens up it makes you nervous because his shape shifting begins to slip and his eyes start turning that frightening color.

“Well realistically it’s not possible for our species to interbreed being as you are a carbon based life form. I took the liberty of inviting my good friend Indrid Cold for a medical assessment and we agreed the best course of action would be injection. He figured it was best to do it while you slept, you are really quite adorable when we beam you up into the ship but not so nice when you wake up… my love? Why are you shaking?”

Mikitaka seems genuinely perplexed as you weakly grip the shelf, knees knocking together as your face goes completely stark. Suddenly you remember very vividly one of these “injections”. The gray alien muttering in your face… the frightening black eyes as his long spindly fingers ghosted over your abdomen. Mikitaka and the gray conversing in some muttering language as they poured over the genetic code he wanted to pass on. And the probe. God help you… the PROBE…

“I suppose it is going to be rather strange…” Mikitaka admits when he gets up to support you off the floor, “But not to worry! Indrid insists that he will send us help by way of his very kind friends, I believe the ladies would like to schedule a meeting with you tomorrow night while you’re conscious.”

Queue you fainting dead away on the floor at the thought.

You want to tell him the moment you have your suspicions, because his weekend is coming up and you want him with you at the doctor’s office when you go to confirm the pregnancy. After finishing a draft for the night he crawls into bed with you, you mention that you think it would be a good idea to see the doctor together because you think you might be pregnant.

“No…” he murmurs into his pillow. “Go by yourself. I have the weekend off…”

“But Rohan-!”

If you think there’s fanfare when you tell him you suspect you’re expecting, think again. This man is dead tired. He’s snoring in minutes and you balk at him, finally bullying him in the morning to accompany you to the clinic a hop skip and a jump away from your shared home. Now that he’s awake and had some breakfast he’s a bit antsy, glancing at you every so often while you positively beam with excitement.

Sure enough, they take you in the back for a pee test AND ultra sound all at once, and there’s the little Kishibe bean nestled inside you.

“Look babe!” You gush, “Look!”

For once he’s just flummoxed and silent, totally fixated on that little spot in the void of darkness in your womb. The doctor smiles and says nothing, just fiddles with the transducer probe a minute and turns the volume higher. Not only is Kishibe Rohan transfixed by the sight, a crosshatch of white in black that will one day be his baby, but he starts to tear up when the whooshing sounds of your abdomen turn into steady little heart beats, his own speeding up in the process. That’s a little Kishibe baby in there... His...

“Babe?! Oh fuck!”

He accidentally pulled the metal tray by his chair down with him as he faints dead away, and you end up staying at the clinic a few more hours so the nurse practitioner can check him for a concussion.

(Y’ALL KEEP THIS MAN AWAY FROM THOSE LITTLE BABY HANDS JESUS CHRIST)

Yoshikage Kira is actually the one that notices something has changed about you first. First was the carpal tunnel. He loved it at first, before his bedtime stretches he made sure to take care of you by massaging your palms and wrists, gentle kisses along the flesh. It went on like that, a typical turn on for him, until the other symptoms started. Your palms got red and irritated, constant scratching that sounds like you’re raking your fingernails along hedgehog quills. He’s outraged at first, thinking you are foregoing your usual skin care regimen that he has you on, until he notices that you’re gaining a little weight, maybe becoming a little more emotional, and sometimes you’ll just absently cradle your tummy absentmindedly.

“Darling...” you seem to glow one day while you make your husband’s breakfast.

“Yes?”

“Mmm... how do you feel about children?”

This shakes up his routinely peaceful life. You don’t even have to tell him outright, it’s as if he’s been able to sense something just out of place in his normally quiet life. He just watches as you stir his breakfast in the pan, careful not to burn it, the flesh of your finger straining like rising dough around your wedding ring. The plumping of your hands, the symptoms...

For a minute he’s actually afraid of the implications.

[the-bau-quinjet]

With you, he wants it all.

Part 2!! You can find all the info about why this is such a mess in Part 1! Also, I totally meant to post this earlier but Taylor Swift’s new album wrecked my plans. 

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her. 

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader, stalker

Word Count: 9972

The next time you wake up, the room is significantly brighter. You feel around in the cold bed, realizing Spencer isn’t there anymore. You have to force yourself to open your eyes to combat the overwhelming urge to roll over and sleep for another twelve hours. The clock reads 12:07. You can’t help but think you deserve more sleep as you force yourself into a sitting position. Once you finally sit up, you hear someone shuffling around, whispering in the other room. It’s too quiet to try to make out the voice, but you definitely heard something. Without too much thought, you quickly jump out of bed, grabbing the only thing you can find that even remotely resembles a weapon- the bible from the hotel drawer.

Slowly, you push the door open, getting ready to make a break for the door to the hallway at the first sign of danger. Remembering everything from yesterday has you on edge as you move toward the kitchen area, looking for anything out of place. You duck around the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room only to find it empty. As you finally let your guard down, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Without thinking, you turn around getting ready to slam the book into whoever is touching you.

 Spencer catches your arms before you hit him. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, dropping the book and hugging Spencer.

 “I’m sorry! I just heard a noise and you weren’t in bed anymore and I wasn’t sure where you went and I wanted to make sure nobody else was in the room, but I-“

 “It’s okay. Just breathe.” Spencer is rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cling to him as if your life depends on it. A few minutes pass, before you calm down enough to pull out of the hug. You run a shaky hand through your hair, moving to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

 “I put the coffee on so you can grab some when it’s done. I’m going to get dressed so we can figure out where we want to go for inspiration today!” You wink at Spencer before heading back into the bedroom to shower and change. You throw on a pair of jeans and a light sweater after squeezing the extra water out of your hair. You like to let it dry naturally on days like this.

 You make your way back into the kitchen only to find Spencer has already changed into a navy and white plaid button down, khakis, and a navy cardigan. He is sitting at the table drinking his coffee when you enter the room. You immediately put the kettle on, reaching into the cabinet to pull out your tea collection.

 “No coffee for you?” Spencer asks, gesturing to the half full pot on the counter.

 “Oh, nope. Not for me. It’s only palatable if I add way to much sugar and then I get all antsy. I only have coffee if I have a really good reason to stay up.” You chuckle as you add the teabag to the mug you set on the counter. You sit on the counter, swinging your legs as you sip your tea.

 “So, where do you want to go?”

 “For what?” Spencer pretends to not know what you’re talking about.

 “It’s time to start writing silly!” You grin at his deer in a headlights expression. “Spencer, I told you not to worry. We are just looking for general ideas right now. Anything that could potentially lead to a song. It’s more fun to observe others during this part of the process because the ideas are less specific.”

 “I don’t even know where to start!” He actually seems nervous about this.

 “Spence, let’s just go to your favorite coffee shop. And don’t tell me that you don’t have one. You’ve already drunk half that pot of coffee.”

 “Why my favorite?” He actually looks taken aback at the suggestion.

 “Well, for one because I’m not from here, so I don’t know where to go.” You try to backpedal, but you’ve started a list. Something he is all too eager to point out. “And two?” He’s got his brows furrowed, a look of pure confusion adorning his face.

 “If it’s your favorite, then you’ve been there before.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Well yes, but your point?” The confusion is still present, but his words are laced with exasperation.

“You might just be comfortable enough in your surroundings to suggest a song idea.” You shrug as you say it, trying to make it feel more casual.

 “You considered whether or not I would be comfortable?” He seems genuinely surprised now.

 “Of course. I want you to help me, so I gotta butter you up.” You try to cover up your blush with a joke.

 “Thank you.” HIs words seem surprised, but the two of you move on. Spencer grabs his satchel, and you your jacket, as the two of you exit the hotel to head to the café. You opt for walking since the weather is not too hot. You don’t say much during the walk. After the moment in the kitchen, you feel a bit nervous. A few fans stop you along the way for a picture or an autograph, but mostly you just enjoy each other’s company. Nobody pays much attention to Spencer, rather opting to ignore him to get your attention. Every time someone comes up to you; you make a point to say excuse me or smile at him before addressing the fans though. You just don’t want him to feel left out or like he’s not important.

 You finally make it to the café. Spencer opens the door before guiding you in, again placing his hand on your back. You thank him as you make your way up to the counter to order. You order a chai latte for yourself, gesturing for Spencer to order his when the barista asks you if you need anything else. You make sure to add two scones to the order before sliding your card into the machine before Spencer has a chance.

 “It’s my fault you’re here with me, so please. My treat.” He shakes his head slightly, a small smile forming on his face.

 “How many times do I have to tell you, none of this is your fault?” He gives you a look as you two move to find a table after accepting the scones.

 “I know.” You don’t sound sure as you take your seat. He doubles down the staring as you continue. “I promise. I know. It was just a joke.” You sound more sure of yourself that time, earning another smile from Spencer.

 The barista brings you your drinks as you settle into the corner booth. You set your phone up on the table, pulling up the recording from yesterday. You pass Spencer your headphones from your purse so he can listen to what you’ve already come up with.

 You take this time to really study him. The sun’s rays are streaming in through the blinds on the window, causing slight shadows to drift across his features. You take in the sharp lines of his jaw as he turns to look around the café, listening to the various melodies and lyrics you sang for the team. His brown locks appear golden as the sunlight reflect off the highlights. He’s sporting a slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. His hazel eyes drift across the faces of everyone in the room, not settling for long on any one person.

 You shift your attention to his hands. He has one draped across the table, lightly tapping along as he listens. His long fingers are mesmerizing. You begin to recognize he is tapping out the melodies as if he were playing the piano. The other hand is wrapped around his coffee cup. You bite your lip as you think about all the things those hands are capable of. Your mind wonders as you stare. You are staring so intently at the way his hand grips the cup, you don’t notice when he removes the headphones.

 Spencer clears his throat to catch your attention. “That was incredible. How do you come up with ideas so fast?” He looks like he knows exactly what you were thinking, but is too kind to bring it up. He’s just doing his job, and this isn’t a date. 

 “Oh, um thanks. I guess the BAU is just full of inspiration. The song writing process is a little different every time, but sometimes I can think of random lyrics and melodies.” You try to smile as you force yourself to focus. “Think back to a time where you felt an emotion really strongly. It can be whatever emotion you want. Then, try to put it into words. I like to use common phrases or metaphors because it can be fun to twist it into something new.” You close your eyes as you think back to how you felt the moment you understood there was a man out there killing people because he is obsessed with you. Maybe it’s a little too soon to write that one out. The idea does give you another way to explain it to Spencer. “It’s kind of like therapy. You can talk out your feelings and share them with people. It’s just a bit more public.” Spencer looks like he’s contemplating his entire life as you sit in this coffee shop.

 “Spence,” you say it lightly to draw him out of his own thoughts, “don’t worry about it. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. I just wanted to get the ball rolling. Why don’t we try something else?” He looks grateful as he nods. “Great. Pick out someone in the coffee shop, preferably part of a group.” He looks around before his eyes settle on someone.

 “Okay, now tell me what they’re thinking about.” He looks confused, like a lost puppy. “It’s called people watching. Just make up a story about what they might be doing here.”

 You and Spencer discuss ideas for the next few hours. He picked out a young man, maybe about 19 years old. He was clearly here with friends trying to catch a break from studying if the backpacks on the floor were any hint. Spencer noticed all of that immediately of course, being that he is a profiler.

 His story sounded just like the profile Hotch told you yesterday, although much less horrifying.

 “White male, late teens to early twenties. He is likely a STEM major. This is the first time he has let loose in a while, normally choosing to forego the party life for studying. He likely has immense pressure on him from his family to succeed and do well in school.” You nod along, not having any idea where this information is really coming from. He sounds so confident, you can’t help but ask how he knows all that.

 “You’re incredible. How did you figure all that out?” You stare in wonder at the man across from you. He doesn’t meet your eye, but responds nonetheless.

 “His age is fairly obvious to observe. His bag is fuller than the others, indicating a major that requires more coursework. He keeps checking his watch, almost as if he knows he is wasting time that could be spent working toward a goal. The family pressure can be inferred by the other behavior. It is more likely a young adult is studious due to a strict upbringing with a focus on work ethic and goal-driven activities.”

 “Amazing.” You sigh as you look around the room. “My turn.” You point to a couple sitting a few tables away from you. “Those two are exploring the possibility of taking their relationship past that of friendship. They obviously like each other and are too nervous to say anything.” Almost as if to prove you aren’t a profiler, the two lean across the table for a kiss. You laugh it off, knowing it’s just a game for you.

 “Or maybe not. Either way, their song would be about new love. Something slow and pretty.” You smile as you turn back to Spencer. “Your turn again!”

 The two of you go back and forth a few times. His stories were really just profiles, but after a few tries he leaned into the fun, game-like nature of people watching. Of course, his last story didn’t stray too far from profiling, but it was much more dreamlike in the way he presented it.

 “The woman sitting by the window,” he said, subtly pointing to an older woman at a table alone, “she’s waiting to see her grandkids for the first time in years. Of course, she’s excited to see them again, but she’s nervous. What if they don’t like her? What if she can’t patch things up with her… I’m guessing daughter?” You smile brightly at the story. Family moments were usually the most inspiring for generic song ideas.

 “Good job, Spence! What would the song be about?” The question clearly caught him off guard. For the past few stories, you asked how he came to those conclusions. It was so fascinating to hear how his mind works. This time though, you thought he could really be on to something. You give him an encouraging nod, as you set your phone up to record again.

 “It could be about- about family.” He states it so firmly; you know he wants to say more. “She is sitting there thinking about the memories she has with her own parents and grandparents, so the song could be a reflection on days spent enjoying their company. Maybe future memories they can make together.” He smiles, albeit shyly.

 “That is a really good idea! It fits with the vibe of the lyrics I came up with for Rossi.” You see the moment it clicks in his head. I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you’re not scared of anything at all. Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today.

 He actually seems pleased with himself now. “We could work on that one tomorrow. We should get up and walk around though, we’ve been sitting here for hours.” You reach for his hand as you scoot out of the booth, pulling him along with you.

 You stuff your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker as you head outside. You feel an overwhelming desire to be close to him, but you don’t want to overstep. The early evening crowd is out and about, bumping into the two of you as you walk back to the hotel at a leisurely pace.

 “Why don’t we go order some room service and just hang out for the rest of the night? All that people watching was exhausting.” You turn to grin up at him as you continue walking. He hums in response, looking down at you in return. You swear you can feel the mood shifting, but the moment is broken by a tap on your arm. You turn to examine the source of the interruption only to find a little girl who couldn’t be more than 10 years old.

 “Hi there!” You squeeze Spencer’s arm before ducking down to talk to the little girl. “Are you parents here?” She nods turning to look at a couple a few feet behind her, slightly out of breath, as if they just chased her down the street.

 “Carly! Honey, you can’t run off like that! You could have gotten hurt!” The man scolds her, but is clearly relieved she didn’t get away from them.

 “Sorry daddy! I just wanted to say hi to Miss Y/N! She sings my favorite song ever!” You wave at the parents before turning your attention back to the little girl.

 “Hi Carly, it’s nice to meet you! You really do need to be careful though. You should always stick with the adults so you don’t get lost.” Your voice is playful, but your expression is serious. The only way to truly convey that message to a child you have no parental claim to. She nods in response.

 “Mommy! Take a picture!” You pose with the girl as her mom takes a picture.

 “We’re so sorry for interrupting your date! She just saw you and took off down the sidewalk.” You blush at what the woman is implying about you and Spencer, not daring to look at him.

 “No worries at all. I’m always happy to meet a fan. Have a good night!” You wave goodbye, linking your arm with Spencer’s as you start to walk. He gives you a curious look, but you just laugh before joking “What? It’s so I don’t get lost.” He chuckles at your childlike behavior, but shifts so you can hold him closer.

 The rest of the walk is peaceful. You don’t see any more fans, which is good because you aren’t paying enough attention to anything at the moment. You keep picturing the look on Spencer’s face right before the little girl interrupted you. What was about to happen?

 Before you know it, you and Spencer are back in the room. He steps into the kitchen to call Hotch while you call to order dinner. You change into the FBI sweatshirt from yesterday and a pair of sleep shorts before settling on the couch to wait for Spencer. A few minutes later, he joins you on the couch after he hangs up. “The team has ruled out all the performers. It’s not surprising as the unsub wouldn’t be brave enough to perform for a crowd. They are still working through the lists of vendors and crew members.”

 “Good. That’s progress. Progress is good.” You nod to yourself, trying to convince yourself everything is normal.

 “Talk to me, what’s going on inside your head?” Spencer reaches out to take your hand while you stare at the ground.

 “I don’t know. I guess it’s just hard. It’s hard to have such an amazing day and then think about how it only happened because people are being killed. I guess I feel guilty.” You keep going before he can interrupt you. “I know it’s not my fault that this guy is out there doing horrible things, but I still feel bad for enjoying myself while it’s happening.” You don’t have any tears left to cry. You look over to Spencer to find him staring back at you.

 “Y/N, you are such a selfless person. There isn’t anything else you can do right now. We haven’t had any more victims, likely because nobody has posted about how excited they are for your shows since we still have 13 days before the next one. We are going to catch this guy.” You form your mouth into a soft smile before nodding at him. “What movie do you want to watch?”

 You smile at his attempt to distract you. “You pick. Anything that will take my mind off things, but not require too much thinking.”

 Spencer is racking his brain for a movie that fits your description when you hear a knock on the door. “Must be the food, I’ll get it.” When you return with the food, you find Spencer still thinking over movie choices.

 “Okay, how about this. What do you like to watch when you really need a pick me up?”

 Again he looks surprised that you would take his opinion into account. “Um, usually Doctor Who, but that’s not a movie it’s a-”

 “TV show. Right. Is that the one where they fly around in a telephone booth?”

 “First of all, it's a police box, not a phone booth. Second of all, Doctor Who started a quarter of century before Bill and Ted even went on their bodacious adventures. So really, they should just call it Bill and Ted's excellent rip-off, I mean at least then...”

You listen as he rambles about why people always think it’s a telephone booth. You can’t help but smile at how cute he is when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about. You don’t realize he asked you a question until he clears his throat with a confused expression.

 “Sorry, I was rambling again.” He looks dejected, and you would do anything in the world to make him smile again.

 “No, I’m sorry!” You scoot closer to him to convey your point. “I was listening at first I promise. It’s just, you looked so happy I got distracted. Let’s watch Doctor Who.” You turn to face the TV before you say anything else that makes you feel like a complete moron. He sorts through the food as you find the show online, setting it up to play on the TV. There’s random free episodes on demand, so you end up staring with the 11th doctor.

 You are completely captivated by the show. Every so often, Spencer would comment on a theory about what one specific prop could mean only to have you cover your ears and warn him about spoilers. During an episode about creepy angel statues, he goes on a tangent about how Amy could have avoided the whole situation. Once he starts mentioning characters you haven’t met, you actually have to reach your hand up to cover his mouth to get him to stop talking. His words putter to a stop, eyes widening in shock as he stares at you.

 “Spence, I absolutely love how passionate you are about Doctor Who. But it doesn’t matter how adorable it is when you ramble on about something. If you spoil one more thing before I can actually watch the whole show through, I will not hesitate to smack you.” You stare right in his eyes the entire time, watching as they widen with each word. You had to get a lot closer to him to actually reach his mouth. He had moved forward, animatedly waving his arms around as he talked about various plot points, so you were basically sitting on his lap to avoid being smacked in the face.

 You drop your arm from his face slowly, as if any sudden movement would break the spell you were under. You lean forward, connecting your forehead to his. You take a steadying breath as you close your eyes. Your about to close the gap when his phone rings. Again, the moment is lost. You only move enough so that he can reach into his pocket for his phone. As he answers the call, you shift in his lap to cuddle into his chest.

 “Morgan, what do you need?” Maybe you’re imaging it, but he almost sounds the slightest bit annoyed. You can just make out what Morgan is saying on the other end of the phone.

 “Calm down, Pretty Boy. We might have a lead, Hotch and Emily are tracking it down now. I’ll meet you at the hotel in the morning to go over it all with you and Y/N.”

 “Okay, thanks for the update.” He sounds so normal now, you think you must have imagined the annoyance earlier. He hangs up the phone, tossing it next to him on the couch. He wraps his arms around you before shifting so you’re both laying down.

 “Let’s just relax and watch more Doctor Who. Morgan is stopping by in the morning to talk about the case.” You nod in agreement, turning to face the TV. A few episodes later, you and Spencer are drifting in and out of sleep. Neither one of you really wants to interrupt what you’ve got going, instead opting to just fall asleep on the couch.

 --

 You hear the faintest knocking noise that pulls you out of your slumber. It takes a few minutes for you to recognize you are on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms. He must have pulled a blanket over the two of you last night after you fell asleep. Before you can get up to evaluate the knocking, the door opens and Morgan comes rushing in. The concern on his face is quickly replaced with a knowing smirk. You blush, jealous that Spencer is somehow still asleep.

 “Hi Morgan. Sorry to alarm you. We must have fallen asleep watching TV last night.” At the sound of your voice, Spencer slowly begins to wake up. He smiles sleepily at you before realizing your attention is elsewhere. He practically throws you off the couch in his effort to sit up when he realizes Morgan is in the room.

 “Sorry!” Spencer looks at Morgan, then back to you. “I’m so sorry!” You laugh as you stand up.

 “Don’t worry about it.” You settle yourself in the chair, gesturing for Morgan to sit next to Spencer now that he isn’t sprawled across the entire sofa anymore. Turning to Morgan, you ask about the case “What did you want to talk about?”

 “We have been focused on going through the people who work for the tour. It makes the most sense for them to travel with you, otherwise it would require a lot more planning.” You can feel the nerves growing in your stomach. “Garcia found a name we wanted to run by you.” He hands you a picture before saying the name. “Ryan Moore. He works-“

 “On the instrumentals. I know. He usually runs the sound booth during the shows. I don’t know him that well, but we’ve talked a few times.” You think back over your past conversations. “It couldn’t be him.” You are 100% sure he is not the unsub, and the agents don’t fail to notice the conviction in your voice.

 “What makes you so sure?” Spencer is flipping through the case file Morgan brought with him. He doesn’t even look up when he asks the question, too focused on memorizing every detail about this man’s life.

 “Well, Hotch told me the unsub wouldn’t be able to talk to me right?” You look to Morgan for confirmation.

 “Yes. He wouldn’t approach you or seem confident when talking with you if you approached him.” Morgan confirms what you’re thinking.

 “Great. So it can’t be him.” You smile to yourself for actually contributing to the case. “Last week, right after the Columbus show, he asked me out. The unsub wouldn’t be brave enough, right?” The utter joy in your voice startles Spencer enough that he finally looks up from the file.

“Alright then. He’s likely not the unsub, but we’ll finish the investigation into him just in case.” Morgan settles back into the chair he’s sitting in, making no move to leave even though the conversation is clearly over. There is an obvious smirk on his face as he looks at Spencer.

 “Well, I’m going to make some breakfast, feel free to watch TV or something.” You smile awkwardly at the two men, unsure of why there is suddenly a strange tension in the air. As you move into the kitchen, you connect your phone to your Bluetooth speaker. Listening to music while you cook has always been calming for you. You honestly prefer baking, but eggs and sausage with toast sounds perfect right now. You pull out the ingredients, humming softly as you dance around the kitchen. You can just barely hear that Morgan and Spencer are talking in the other room, but not enough to make out what they are saying. It just sounds a bit more intense the conversation you just had.

 You choose to ignore it and give them their privacy instead focusing on cooking. You end up making scrambled eggs the way your mom taught you, by mixing in some chive and onion cream cheese. You pop some English muffins in the oven under the broiler while you place the eggs and sausages in dishes. After turning the music down, you move all the food to the table. You’re about to invite Spencer and Morgan to have some food when you hear their conversation.

 “I’m telling you man. She likes you. You should go for it.” Morgan is clearly trying to encourage Spencer, but he won’t hear it.

 “Morgan, it’s not like that. It’s probably just transference because I’m here to make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Plus, you saw the smile on her face when she talked about Ryan asking her out. She was beaming.” He sighs, almost wistfully as you consider what he’s saying. Surely you are capable of separating your feelings for him from the situation. Would you like him if you had just run into him on the street? Plus, what does Ryan have to do with this?

 You move back to the stove to remove the English muffins before they burn, putting them on a plate as well. Ultimately, you decide to try to straighten out your feelings for Spencer before making a move. You want to be sure. If there is even a shred of doubt in your mind, Spencer will surely be able to see it on your face. Stupid profilers.

 Their conversation died down while you were dealing with the muffins, so you walk back to the other side of the room. You mumble out “I made food, you’re both welcome to have some” before returning to the table. You have a lot to think about and the last thing you want to do is lead Spencer on if you aren’t sure. He deserves better than that.

 The conversation over breakfast is nice. Nothing too heavy or serious. The three of you are just talking about your lives. Morgan asks you what it’s like to be famous. You ask him and Spencer what it’s like to be in the FBI. You realize just how different your career paths are. The only thing you can relate to is travelling. Neither Spencer nor Morgan have family in the area, but they mention how hard it is for Hotch and JJ.

 “That I can understand. The travelling, I mean. Of course, I travel to perform, not to track down killers.” The room is quiet for a few minutes as you think about what to say. Morgan and Reid being profilers know you haven’t finished your thought, so they give you the time to think it over.

 “Thank you.” You say it softly, but firmly at the same time. This is the first time you’ve seen either of them look surprised.

 “Wh- for what?” It’s Morgan who speaks up. Spencer has a familiar expression on his face. It’s the same look he got when you asked his opinion for coffee shops and movies.

 “For everything. For protecting me. For catching bad guys. For giving up so much to do this job. You two, and the rest of your team, you all sacrifice so much to keep people safe. I mean, I’m sure the people you save and the families you give closure to are grateful, and you deserve that. But, you also deserve to have everyone be thankful for what you do. You get into the minds of these people. It must be exhausting to have to think like that all the time. I’m barely dealing with it now and it’s only be on my mind for 2 days! I just can’t even fathom the number of people you have saved, people that you’ve never even met, by doing this. So, thank you. For being strong enough to do it. For being you.”

 You spoke every word with every ounce of sincerity you could muster up. You were looking between them as you said it. The shock on Morgan’s face slowly morphed into a small smile. Spencer’s expression didn’t change, but somehow looked more sincere when you were done.

 Neither one of them knew what to say. Morgan rose from his chair to pull you into a hug. Patting you on the back, he uttered a soft thank you before saying he should get back to the office to help the rest of the team. You locked the door behind him, turning to see Spencer staring at you from the table.

 “Spence? Are you okay?” You were nervous that your impromptu speech made him uncomfortable. He rose from the table, slowly making his way across the room to you.

 “I’m, I, I just… that was… thank you. You amaze me.” He barely says the words, practically breathing them into existence. You reach for his hand, squeezing it.

 “I meant every single word. Promise.” There is nothing more you want to do than kiss him right now, but all you can hear in your head is Spencer talking about transference. You hug him quickly before pulling back again. Without some distance between the two of you, you won’t be able to control yourself. “Do you want to go to another café today? Or somewhere with a piano so I can finally see you play?”

 “We can do what you want today. You let me pick the café and the show yesterday, so it’s only fair.”  You grin, knowing exactly where you want to take him.

 The two of you get ready in near silence after that. Both of you want to calm down a bit before spending another day together. After you’ve both showered and changed, you drag Spencer down to the SUV. The weather outside is perfect for where you want to go, but the park is just far enough away that you want to drive. You pull up directions on your phone, hiding the address from him. Spencer protests the entire time. He keeps mumbling about how he would know how to get there if you just told him where you were going. Then something about how mobile phones are a distraction, so it would be safer for him to drive anyway.

 You just let him ramble on about the many DC streets. Your grip on the wheel tightens when he starts listing off statistics about car accidents.

 “More than 38,000 people die every year in crashes on U.S. roadways. The U.S. traffic fatality rate is actually 12.4 deaths per 100,000 inhabitants. An additional 4.4 million are injured seriously enough to require medical attention. Road crashes are the leading cause of death in the U.S. for people aged 1-54.” With every passing word, your knuckles get whiter, your heartbeat gets faster, and your breaths get shorter. Spencer is too caught up in reciting the statistics to realize anything is wrong until he turns to look at you, his next sentence dying on his tongue. “Seatbelts reduce the risk of dying by…” His brow furrows as he takes in your appearance.

 “By what Spence? Don’t leave me hanging?” You try to joke with him to calm yourself down, but he obviously sees right through it.

 “45%.” He continues before you can even comprehend the number. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

 “Nothing. I’m totally fine. 100% A-Okay.” You try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Having arrived at your destination, you pull into a parking spot.

 “Y/N, talk to me. What is it?” You take a steadying breath as you turn to face him. Honestly, you are embarrassed more than anything else. You were the one who decided you had to drive.

 “Spence, really it’s not a big deal. I just get nervous driving sometimes. I don’t have to do it a lot, and I’ve never felt like I was particularly good at it. It doesn’t matter though, we’re here.” You move to get out of the car, but Spencer reaches across the car to stop you. His face is only inches from yours as the realization dawns on him.

 “And I was rambling on about how dangerous driving is.” He says it more to himself than to you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you stop me? I really need to learn how to shut up. I just get so caught up in the statistics-“ “Spencer. I love when you ramble. I’ve already told you how calming it is… normally. I’m fine, I promise. You just have to drive us back to the hotel later. Deal?”

 “Deal.” You’re both smiling as you get out of the car to walk around the park you brought him to. He doesn’t ask why you picked this place and you don’t offer up a reason. He’ll figure it out soon enough. You talk about random things from childhood as you lazily stroll through the trees. There’s something so calming about wandering through so many trees when you know you’re in the middle of a bustling city.

 Before long, the two of you have crossed the park. A few feet away stands an upright piano in front of a park bench. You glance at Spencer as he looks at the piano, realization gracing his features as he discovers why you chose this particular park. You beckon for him to sit down next to you, asking him to play you a song.

 He blushes as you whisper pretty please in his ear. The cherry on top does him in. Soon enough, you are hearing the beginning notes of Bach’s Prelude in C. You just sit and listen, watching his fingers gracefully move above the keys. He’s not the most passionate of piano players. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he moves his hands efficiently across the instrument, as if he really is thinking about the math behind it all. Still, you lose yourself in the music, swaying lightly. You find yourself leaning on his shoulder, closing your eyes as you think about everything you’ve been feeling.

 You studied music for a few years when you were young. That’s how you started writing, with lessons to learn to play both the guitar and the piano. You took to the guitar more than the piano, but you remember learning about the emotion behind every classical piece you were taught to play. You can’t help but think back to those lessons as you listen to Spencer. This song is always reaching forward, yearning for the next note. It plays into the idea that life is simple and pure. Even good at times. But there is something lurking just below the surface. It’s weirdly fitting of your current situation, but you choose to just be glad he chose the major over the minor.

 You feel the breeze in your hair as Spencer finishes the song. For a few moments, the two of you sit listening to the leaves rustling in the wind. Eventually, you look around the park once it is quiet again. It’s mostly empty given that it’s 2 pm on a Tuesday, so there aren’t many people around to witness this moment. You slip your phone on the piano to record before you take over, playing that all too familiar melody that reminds you of Spencer. Neither of you say anything as you let the music and your emotions guide you through the song. You can tell it’s not perfect, but it just feels right.

 After that, you and Spencer brainstorm lyrics for Rossi’s song for another few hours. The park begins to fill up as school lets out and the workday ends. A few fans recognize you, asking for pictures. After a particularly strong gust of wind, Spencer drapes his cardigan over you as you walk back toward the car, both of you blissfully unaware of the figure watching you from behind the trees.

 --

  The next few days pass in much the same fashion. Spencer takes calls about the case, trying to narrow down the massive list of crew members on your tour. You and he work on lyrics for Rossi’s song, as well as JJ’s. She’s just so pretty, the words flow right out of you. You can tell Spencer agrees. You believe him as he swears up and down that the two of them are just friends, but you can’t help teasing him just a bit.

 “Honestly, it would be weirder if you didn’t think she was pretty. The woman looks as if she were sculpted by Michelangelo himself. A living embodiment of Aphrodite.” He nods in agreement, a faint blush on his cheeks.

 --

 No matter how much you try, you just cannot come up with anymore good lyrics for Spencer’s song. It could be that he is sitting right next to you all the time and knows the song is for him that’s causing the writer’s block, but it’s still frustrating.

 One night, he’s working through the case file for the third time in a row when you interrupt his thoughts with a seemingly random question.

 “Spence, can you tell me a story?” He looks up at you, brow furrowed and eyes confused. “I just need inspiration for the lyrics. Everything I come up with sucks.” You pout until he finally gives in. “Yay! It can be anything, even a memory. Just make it overwhelmingly happy.”

 Spencer stops looking through the file as he thinks back on his life experiences for an overwhelmingly happy memory. The faces of his team members instantly flood his mind as he sorts through the many good times they’ve had. He keeps circling back to one event, ultimately deciding it is happy enough to fit your standards.

 “This is actually the story of JJ’s wedding.” You lean forward, a wedding story could be just what the doctor ordered. “Will wanted to marry her for a while, but she was hesitant. She said everything was perfect as it was, she didn’t feel the need to change anything.” You were honestly a little confused as to where the happiness was at this point, but you let him continue anyway. You could listen to this man talk for days on end without complaint.

 “We ended up working a case with Will. It was a bank robbery turned hostage situation. It was a rough case for all of us; bombs, secret partners, kids at risk. I won’t bore you with the details,” he chuckles at your thankful expression, “but it all worked out in the end. Will, he could’ve died. When JJ went to see him in the hospital, she told him to ask her again. She wanted to get married then and there in the hospital chapel. Will wanted to wait until he was actually out of the hospital though, and not wearing a hospital gown.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of loving someone so much, you were instantly ready to marry them.

 “Rossi, he overheard everything. So, he started planning. He called JJ’s mom, told her to fly in and to bring her wedding dress. We threw her a surprise wedding the next day. It was such a beautiful moment, to have such a joyous event after everything that we had been through. JJ looked wonderstruck as her mom walked her down the aisle. The lights were sparkling. It was enchanting.” He spoke with such awe about the whole event. He told you stories about doing magic for Henry and Jack, who you came to know as Hotch’s son. It was so easy for you to picture the fairy lights and purple flowers. The team seemed like such a close-knit family, it only made sense that they would share this memory.

 The chorus of the song hit you like a ton of bricks. You didn’t even warn Spencer as you jumped from the couch and ran to the piano. He followed behind you, curious to see what would happen. He watched with wonder as you placed your phone to record on top of the piano and started playing the family melody you first hummed while thinking about him.

 “This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go. I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you.” The verses didn’t pour out of you in quite the same way, but the general storyline of the song came to you in the next few minutes. You rushed to get it all out, speaking directly into the phone.

 “The first verse can be about feeling out of place in a room, faking laughter, forcing smiles. Then it all changes when she sees him. It’s as if they have a conversation with only their eyes as they float across the room to each other. Then the chorus. The second verse can be about her wondering if he felt it to. 2 am who do you love? Chorus again. Then the bridge can be about hoping that the one night wasn’t it for them. That she’ll see him again and hoping he isn’t already in love or with someone.” You’re so pleased with the song idea, you don’t notice the shifting expressions on Spencer’s face. After your explanation, you turn to him, the biggest smile he’s seen yet on your face.

 “What do you think?” He’s so shocked he doesn’t know how to respond. After a moment of silence, your face begins to fall. You can’t stop your brain from thinking the worst.

 He must hate it. Oh god, he’s just trying to find a way to let me down easy. Why do I have to be so stupid? Sure, go ahead. Write a love song about the man who’s sitting next to you. That won’t be weird at all. Oh god, oh god…

 Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s beautiful. It will make a wonderful song.” He’s whispering in your ear. The feeling of his lips brushing against you is too much. Everything you’ve been pushing back for the past few days comes roaring to the surface. You can’t stop yourself.

 You pull back slowly, only to pull his face to yours so rapidly you’re surprised you didn’t get whiplash. In less than an instant, his lips are moving gracefully against yours. His hands slide down your body to your waist as he pulls you even closer to him. Your arms move up around his neck, your fingers running through his hair. The hunger and passion is slowly taken over by the need for oxygen, the two of you separating just enough to pull air into your lungs.

 He kisses your forehead, and you kiss his nose. A few minutes later, and you’re still standing there with your heads pressed together, arms wrapped around each other. Every so often, one of you places a light kiss on the others mouth, just to make sure this is real.

 “I know what you’re thinking.” You are still out of breath from kissing him, but you can just tell his mind is moving a mile a minute.

 “I’m not sure you do.” He sounds nervous.

 “I think I might surprise you.” You can’t help but tease him a little before continuing. “You think its all transference. That I only think I like you because you’re here to protect me. Some sort of white knight bullshit.” You can’t stop yourself from sounding mildly annoyed about it. Although, the look of shock on his face helps. “I heard what you said to Morgan.” He sighs before moving to pull back.

 “No, Spence. Listen to me. I heard what you said to Morgan.” You wait for him to follow your train of thought back a few days.

 “But that was four days ago?” He looks more confused than ever.

 “I know. I wanted to make sure that what I feel is real. I didn’t want to lead you on if I might not actually want this. But I do. More than I’ve ever wanted anything before. Spencer, you are a light in my life and not just because you’re here to make sure I don’t get murdered. Although that certainly doesn’t hurt. I feel like I can tell you anything and you won’t judge me for it. That I can truly be myself without worry of letting you down.”

 “Y/N you could never let me down. I just don’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything. I don’t want you to regret me.” He looks crestfallen.

 “Spencer Reid.”  You move your hands to his cheeks to gently push his head up to make eye contact. “I could never regret a single moment spent with you. I have loved every single one. I loved watching you listen to the songs about your friends. I loved listening to you talk about things you love, like Doctor Who and statistics. I loved sitting next to while you played piano. I loved talking to you about anything and everything. Spencer, I love how I feel when I’m with you and I know for a fact I would feel the same way if I met you walking down the street.”

 “Y/N” the way he says your name is music to your ears. “I love how I feel when I’m with you too. I loved listening to you sing about my friends, capturing the essence of who they are. I loved watching you experience the things I have grown so accustomed to doing. I loved the feeling of you leaning on my shoulder while I played Bach. I loved hearing you come up with an entire storyline for one song in a matter of minutes just based on one story. I have loved every single second I have been with you since I first saw you 7 days, 2 hours, and 32 minutes ago. Even if I didn’t say a word to you until after you woke up in the hospital.”

 The two of you laugh as you pull him to the couch to cuddle. You put on more Doctor Who, sitting with your legs across his lap and playing with his hands. It’s nice to just be close to him without having to worry. You find yourself getting wrapped up in the show. Spencer is quieter this time. You think he might have something on his mind, but you decide to wait for him to share. Between the third and fourth episode, he speaks up.

 “Y/N, are you and Ryan… are you together?” You look up to see a nervous expression once again on his face.

 “Ryan who?” You are genuinely confused as to who he could even be talking about.

 “Ryan Moore, the sound booth guy.” You look even more confused than before.

 “Not even a little bit. I politely declined his offer to take me out. Is that what’s been bugging you for the last three episodes?” You smile at his pout.

 “Maybe. You just seemed so happy when you mentioned that he asked you out. You were practically glowing with how big your smile was.”

“Spence, I was happy because I could actually help you with the case. I only have eyes for one guy.” You shift to straddle his lap.

 “Yeah, who’s that?” He pulls you even closer.

 “Matt Smith” You say it with the best deadpan expression you can manage in the circumstances.

 “Wow, your standards must be pretty low to settle for the 11th doctor. He’s not even in the top three best doctors!” He plays along with your joke, although he doesn’t have to act incredulous sat you preference for the 11th doctor.

 “Well, my number one doctor isn’t really on TV.” You bite your lip, leaning in until you connect your mouth to his.

 Right as you’re both about to take it one step further, your phone rings. “Fuck.” The word is barely a whisper leaving your mouth as you pull back from Spencer trying to catch your breath.

 “Hello?” you don’t hear anything on the other end of the phone. “Hello? Anyone there? Hello?” Suddenly the line goes dead. You turn to Spencer. “Well, that was weird.” Spencer frantically moves you off his lap as he stands up, taking out his phone. Without telling you anything, he is frantically dialing a number, mumbling under his breath.

 “Garcia! I need to you to figure out who just called Y/N’s phone.” He waits a minute, presumably listening to her reply. “Yes, it just rang and when she answered nobody said anything. Thank you.” He hangs up, swiftly moving back to the couch to pull you into a hug.

 “What just happened?” You can feel your heartrate speeding up.

 “It might be nothing, but that might have been the unsub. Garcia is tracking down the number that made the call right now. If it’s possible to figure out, she’ll have it done by morning.” He rubs calming circles on your hip with his thumb. “Why don’t you go to sleep? Try to get some rest?” You nod, rising from the couch.

 “Spence, will you lay with me?” Your voice is small and scared as you ask the question. He simply nods, both of you changing into pajamas before meeting in the bedroom to lay down. You snuggle up close to him, trying to breathe in the same pattern as him until you fall asleep.

 --

 When you wake up, you can hear Spencer in the living room, talking on his phone. You want nothing more than to go back to sleep, but not if you can’t cuddle with Spencer while you do it. Throwing the covers off of you, you get up so you can actually see Spencer. He’s got his back to you when you open the door, so you sneak up behind him. He jumps a little with a surprised gasp when you wrap your arms around his middle.

 “What? Oh, uh… I’m fi-fine. Everything’s fine. I was just surprised.” He spins around to hug you, giving you a slight glare. “By, um, a beetle. Yeah, there was a beetle.” The lie is so obvious you can’t help but laugh as you bury your head into his chest.

 A few minutes later, he finally hangs up. “What did they find out about the phone call?” You mumble the question into the fabric of his cardigan.

 “Less than we were hoping for. It was a prepaid cell, so Garcia can’t trace it back to the owner.” You squeeze him tighter, glad to have him with you through all of this. After a few minutes of standing with him, you reluctantly pull back.

 “Well, we should get to work. These songs are not going to write themselves!”

 You and Spencer retreat to different parts of the suite to get ready for the day. As much as you would love to jump his bones, it doesn’t feel right to take up his time with that when he could be working. At least if you were working on songs together it was part of the cover.

 You ultimately decide to just sit in the park across from the hotel today. Normally, you wouldn’t even leave your room at this point in the writing process. You just don’t completely trust yourself to be alone with him at the moment. At least in public you can control yourself a little bit. Yet, the many people walking around the park do nothing to stop you from grabbing Spencer’s hand and playing with his fingers while thinking particularly hard about a certain lyric.

 A bright flash of light draws you out of your reverie. You already know how the picture is going to look. You are laying across a blanket, knees in the air. Spencer is sitting beside you, reading messages from the team on his phone. His other hand is still between yours as you run your fingers over his knuckles. You are absolutely sure there is look of complete adoration on your face. You can’t bring yourself to care that the paparazzi took the picture. You have nothing to hide.

 After the shock of the bright light fades, you notice a familiar face behind the few photographers in front of you. The shock of seeing someone for a second time floods your brain while you try to remember the profile Hotch told you that very first night. Without thinking too hard, you fling yourself into a sitting position. You gather everything you brought with you to the park, dragging Spencer along with you. He clearly doesn’t understand the shift in your behavior, but he’d gladly follow you anywhere.

 It’s not until you reach your room that you look at him. He can see the fear in your eyes before you even open your mouth. “Baby, what is it? What happened?” He begins recalling everything from the moment the first flash went off, trying to figure out what made you so scared.

 “I saw him.” You can barely hear yourself over the sound of your heart beating in your chest. “I saw the unsub. I mean, I think I did. He held the door open for us this morning when we left the hotel, and then he was in the park when the paparazzi were taking pictures. Hotch… he said to tell you if I saw anyone more than once in a day.” The words escape your lips in a hurry, trying to keep up with your flying thoughts.

 “Okay, breathe. I’m right here. I’m going to call the team. Did you recognize him from anywhere else?” You try to picture the face in your mind, and suddenly you are seeing him everywhere. In the coffee shop that very first day. Behind the trees in the park with the piano. If you and Spencer were there, so was he. Just, normally you only caught a glimpse of him for a second. Definitely not twice in one day.

 You rush to tell Spencer what you’re remembering. At this point, you don’t even know if it’s true. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. Just filling in this man’s face on other people’s bodies to fit the story that he is the one behind it all. Nonetheless, you give him the description of who you saw. White, probably 35ish, brown hair. You didn’t see his eyes, but they looked evil. The expression on his face just screamed serial killer. Maybe that’s in your head too. Who knows?

 “I know I’ve seen that face before, I just can’t remember where. God, I’m useless. This man is hurting people and I can’t even remember where I’ve seen him before. Think. Think. THINK.” You’ve started pacing the room, trying to figure out who it could be. Spencer doesn’t say anything else to you until he’s finished the phone call. Even then, he’s more so humming and shushing you than really talking. He pulls you into a hug, trying to calm you down yet again.

 “Y/N. You are anything but useless. You noticed he was there. That’s a step in the right direction. We are going to find him, and he is going to go to jail for a very long time.” Somewhere, deep inside, you knew Spencer couldn’t guarantee that, but you also knew it was better for you to listen to him than to force yourself down a rabbit hole you couldn’t dig yourself out of.

 A few calming breaths later, and your asleep on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms.

 --

 It’s still dark when you open your eyes. You can hear someone moving around, but it’s too dark to see. Spencer isn’t with you on the couch, so it could be him, but something feels wrong. Why would Spencer be up in the middle of the night wandering around in the dark?

 “Spencer?” Everything goes still at the sound of your voice. Yeah, that was not the best move you could’ve made… Before you can say anything else, you are knocked out cold. The sound of a lamp smashing over your head is that last thing you hear.

tag list:

@mac99martin , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @spencerhotchner , @girloncorneliastreet , @itsametaphorbriansblog , @moonshinerbynight , @meowiemari , @justanotherfangirl  , @im-so-wonderstruck , @eevee0722 , @raining13lemonade​ @dilaudidwinchester​ , @silverdagger69 , @thatsonezesty13

[bloodylondonvtm]

A city that never sleeps, and when the night sets upon contemporary London, the dead come out to play their games.

Here on this discord Server, we offer you, the players, the chance to immerse yourself within this World of Darkness. Utilizing Vampire: The Masquerade 20th edition rules, we created a living and breathing City designed to provide those willing to uncover its secrets the chance to play VtM in a collaborative writing play-by-post setting.

Here in Bloody London! your motivation, passion and creative input in helping us weave intriguing storylines is valued by the Staff, offering plenty of opportunities to make new friends along the way as we explore a unique cast of characters that are going to call nightly London their home.

This isn’t a tabletop experience, foregoing the rather linear trappings of such a system in favor of player freedom. A sandbox setting, where every character matters, join us in recreating the gothic atmosphere of Vampire: The Masquerade with all its delightfully diverse themes.

The city awaits.

"Many thousands of passionate words have been spoken here tonight.  Some of those words I agree with, and some I do not, but all of them clearly come from the heart of the person they issued forth from.  As Aedile Fairfax so astutely pointed out, It is clear that every single person that has taken the time to speak up cares deeply for not only the Clan but also for London and the Camarilla.  We all want to see them each grow in power and stand for millennia to come.  I for one believe that the person that will lead this endeavor is Praetor Harrington, as I have no doubt made clear throughout the evening.  While I concede that Aedile von Berlichingen may be a better warrior, something that I think is clear to anyone in this room, I do not believe that she is the better leader.  If you think back on the words that she has spoken this evening, and the tone with which she has spoken them, it is clear that there is a great deal of rage within her.  That beast within each of us, that thing that calls for blood, is very loud within her.  It drives her forward, much like it does all of us, but as we all know it is not a being of logic.  It is a being of hate and malice, things that are good on a battle field no doubt, but not in a meeting room.  Aedile von Berlichingen is a weapon, and a strong one at that, but we need more than a weapon.  We need a skilled hand to wield that weapon effectively, and she can not be both.  Her words tonight have not been the words of a leader, but the words of a dictator.  She advocates for taking leadership, for taking territory, for crushing any that oppose us.  She wants us to put the lower clans in their places, which in her mind places them below our boot."

Edwin pauses and shakes his head before he finishes.

"These are not the words of a King, but those of a Tyrant."

Toering’s Edwin at the Ventrue Board Meeting

System:  Vampire the Masquerade, V20 with some homebrew 

Time zone:  Any time – we have players all over the world, so if you’re in a timezone that doesn’t get much love you’ll likely be able to find something!

Platform:  Discord play-by-post

•  New Players welcome! Whether you've played V20 for years or not once we'd love to have you.

•  Plotlines generated by both players and Storytellers.

•  We are primarily a Camarilla Neonate chronicle, but offer some opportunities for all sects.

•  Camarilla, Anarch, and Independent factions available immediately. 

•  Sabbat characters and some bloodlines available after your first character.

•  Kindred, Ghouls, Revenants, and Mortals all playable.

Want to know more?  Interested in joining our merry band of bloodsuckers? Find the link to our discord and more on our sidebar!

As Gilead and his shamed offspring began to walk toward the forest, Aleksandar put his hand upon his face, as if to shield his eyes from the pathetic spectacle. Yet, if one were able to see through his hand, they would see one single drop of vitae, descending from his eyes. The lone coyote had received enough humiliation, that the pity of an old man would only deepen the wound upon his honor. And though Aleksandar had never exchanged a word, nor knew of his existence before tonight, he decided to keep him in his memory, until the night he would cease to be.

Having wiped this single tear, out from the sight of others, the Hungarian Fiend stared neutrally as the father return without his child. It had to be done. And though filicide had taken place, the night would not end for them. Aleksandar joined the others in the celebration, singing and dancing with all his soul, as they partied the night away. The form of a drowned creature, with a skin fused with the stone, dancing fearlessly around the fire was unremarkable amidst the legion of monsters and fiends that laughed under the red starry night sky.

They were Tzimisce.

They were the uncountable heads of the Dragon. Each representing another aspect of reality.

They were a unique existence, one that could not be fathomed even by their kind.

One that could not be joined.

Though it could dream roaring at the world, and of soaring the sky at their side.

A Wolf could not become a Dragon.

Progidius’ Aleksandar at the Tzimisce’s Kupala’s Night

The keys jangle again as one is brought forth to the lock and pushed in. 

It clicks. The knob turns. 

The old door, swollen from humidity, sticks in its place before a forceful kick sends it swinging open toward the vampiric intruders. The whistled tune begins anew.

 A figure, exact features indistinct in the gloom of the lightless room, stands in the doorway. The whistling promptly stops. With a gasp the figure freezes in place, stock still. The keys drop from their hand, clattering onto the floor.

“Shit!” The curse is hissed under their breath. Hands fumble into pockets. Something is pulled free - thrown - in the direction of the trespassers. It thuds to the ground before anyone can get hit.

A garlic bulb. 

The frozen figure springs to life swiftly and attempts to scramble backward. Hands jam into pockets with a quickness and this time a lighter is freed. The flame that billows forth from it is more like a torch than your average lighter, clearly modified in some way. The figure's startled, youthful features are briefly illuminated in the firey glow. Shaking hands hold the lighter out toward the intruders.

In an instant the lighter slips from their grip.

FWOOSH

And the arm of an old nearby chair catches alight.

A wannabe hunter is confronted by a coterie of Kindred.

[vrishchikawrites]

I suck at writing dialogue.

Any advice, senpai?

Ok *rolls up sleeves* I have 10 tips!

1. Give characters individual vocal characteristics.

2. People don't write and speak in the same way.

3. Read the sentence in one breath.

4. Think about what the character would say and wouldn't say.

5. Characters interact differently with different people.

6. Use Dialogue to show what's happening and people's opinions on it.

7. Mind the dialogue tags.

8. Avoid cliche phrases.

9. Avoid saying obvious things.

10. People often don't respond logically or answer questions.

I've elaborated everything below and cut for length.

1. Give characters individual vocal characteristics.

LWJ has his famous 'mn' and I tend to use 'aiya' with WWX to showcase his casual manner of speaking. Nailing character voices at first is important to create natural dialogue. Clear vocal characteristics help readers identify one person from another, especially if you don't want to overuse identifiers like names or pronouns.

2. People don't write and speak in the same way.

People will sometimes skip articles, forego a few grammar rules, and will almost always shorten words and sentences wherever possible. Instead of saying, 'I'm hungry, I want to eat' most people will say, 'I'm hungry, want to eat' Remove all unnecessary words from the dialogue as much as possible, even if the character is considered talkative.

Use italics if you want to emphasize, ellipses to highlight pauses and indicate hesitation, dashes to also highlight sharper pauses. Use them instead of saying words to describe the situation.

3. Read the sentence in one breath.

When you finish writing the dialogue, read it out loud to see if you can say it in one breath. If not, add a pause or a full stop at appropriate places.

4. Think about what the character would say and wouldn't say.

LWJ speaks very efficiently. He always makes his point without speaking too many words. You wanna condense such a character's sentences as much as possible - without making him sound robotic because afaik, he doesn't sound stiff and robotic in Chinese (i may be wrong). WWX, on the other hand, is liberal with his speech but he's not verbose. To me, he doesn't say unnecessary words either, he just tends to elaborate more than LWJ does.

Before you create dialogue for any character, you'll need to understand what is characteristic and uncharacteristic for a person to say.

5. Characters interact differently with different people.

A person's tone will change based on who they're talking to. WWX will be more open and playful with LWJ, he'll take on a more mature edge when interacting with the juniors, he'll be distant and respectful with LXC, and distant but with an edge of sharpness with LQR.

Examples from the first chapter of Trapped and Patient

With WQ - "This is madness." He protests, "You're giving me too much credit!" With a stranger - Wei Wuxian taps on the table, smiling at the notes as the wine bottle is placed in front of him, "My friend, does that man come here often?"

With JYL - “Shijie! You know how restless I get,��� His voice is cheerful, “What can I do here? I’m just sitting on my hands and languishing while everyone else is out there, preparing for war-”

With Sect Leader Yu - Wei Wuxian frowns, “Very well, I’d like to personally speak with them before I accept any sort of offer.”

With LXC - “I will tell you all, of course.” He assures and looks around, “I heard a few rumors and decided to offer my services to you and Chifeng-zun.”

With LWJ - "Lan Zhan! Lan er-gongzi!" He greets, elated, "I missed you!"

Everyone's tone changes based on who they're addressing and what kind of situation they are in.

6. Use Dialogue to show what's happening and people's opinions on it.

In T&P - Ch - 2 - WWX and LQR have a conversation and WWX says this:

He glances at Lan Qiren, “You have been in my position before, Elder Lan, was it a privilege?”

With it, WWX is able to explain his position in a way that is relatable to LQR, establish a connection with LQR, and lay the foundation for their relationship down the line.

LQR's response is an indication of acceptance and truce. It is also a conversation between adults instead of an elder and a teenager. If I played my cards right, I have showcased that LQR's perspective has shifted and WWX has grown enough and is cautious of his new position to take LQR seriously like he didn't before.

“Good. It is past time you live up to your potential, Wei Wuxian.”

Dialogue can establish the foundation of relationships better than paragraphs worth of description can and it does it in a way that is more personal.

7. Mind the dialogue tags.

He said, she said, etc, are sometimes necessary and sometimes they're not. If you can clearly identify the speaker, there's no need to add the tag. If the conversation is a rapid-fire exchange of words between two parties, you can forgo tags entirely.

He grins sheepishly, “I seek advice from you against his wishes, Zewu-jun. Forgive me for being a bit anxious.”

Lan Xichen waves his hand, “We’re both older brothers, are we not?

“Tell me about your new cultivation. It is remarkable.” There’s genuine interest in Lan Xichen's voice, “Where did you come up with the idea?”

“You’ll laugh,” Wei Wuxian says-

This dialogue uses the tag 'WWX says' only once and the rest of the conversation doesn't have it. Be conscious of the tags and where you use them.

8. Avoid cliche phrases.

Few things pull a reader away from a story than cliche phrases that people will rarely utter in their life. An exchange like this - "Why are you doing this?" - "Because I love you, damnit!" has become too common and isn't as effective as it used to be, especially when a character is confessing for the first time.

Best way to avoid cliche or cringy dialogue is to read the sentence out loud and consider whether it sounds natural.

9. Avoid saying obvious things.

If you've already written a paragraph on how eerily quiet a forest is, there's no need for a character to say - "It is quiet here isn't it?" Especially if the character is someone like WWX or LWJ, who are naturally observant. Don't let your character explain everything you have already described in text unless they need to explain it to someone.

10. People often don't respond logically or answer questions directly.

People tend to not answer questions directly. Even in serious conversations, they'll go about it a round-about way.

Wei Ying is silent for a while before he laughs softly, "Aiya, Lan Zhan, I already know what you wish to ask." Wangji waits patiently for permission and Wei Ying huffs and nods, "Yes, you may."

"What did you eat?"

Wei Ying picks up Wangji's hands and presses a gentle kiss on them, lacing their fingers together. He lingers for a moment before sighing, "My Hanguang-jun doesn't deserve to hear of such grim things."

Wangji curls his fingers because that might as be a confirmation. His heart breaks for his beloved and he closes his eyes, "Your husband wishes to know, Wei Ying."

"Mostly some small critters, Lan Zhan," he admits, "Sometimes I'd dig up roots of trees. They were softer and easier to consume. I managed to catch a few birds. Bugs, earthworms, maggots, crickets- they were plentiful.

WWX doesn't give a straightforward reply without LWJ coaxing things out of him. Characters lie, deflect, evade, blurt out excuses. LWJ consciously doesn't interrupt people but it is natural for people to interrupt each other's conversations too. Sometimes people will take a frustratingly long time to get to the point. You need to incorporate that.

"Hanguang-jun, surely you understand! Our village has faced draught ever since these children arrived and we finally know why! The Gods are displeased with us!"

Wangji looks at the children, feeling a stir of concern at their wan faces. They've already been beaten black and blue by angry villagers.

"I'll be taking the children," Wangji looks at his husband in surprise but doesn't voice any objections. It is rare for Wangji to deny his husband anything these days and Wei Ying's desires are often simple things, easy to fulfill with the greatest pleasure.

No one directly replies to the person who has spoken. That's also a common thing. Every question or comment doesn't need reciprocation to carry dialogue.

Of course, this is my amateur attempt. I would also recommend doing some online research. Hope this helps?

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 1 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer meets a girl he can't get enough of at the nightclub, then quickly realizes she is not supposed to be there. 

A/N: This work deals with a lot of dark themes. There will be imperfect characters, and they will make mistakes. If you are sensitive, please read each chapter's content warnings carefully and alert me if I am missing any.

This work is undergoing heavy edits. Thank you for your patience!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: NSFW, 18+ Series Content Warnings: Adults w/ Age Difference (10yr), heavy petting, drinking Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

—————————————————  

There are many reasons to come to a nightclub. For some, it's an excuse to find someone to kill their loneliness. For others, it's a chance to escape themselves. I wasn't sure which I was more of that night. All I knew was that I was ready for something, anything to break the monotony.

The pulsing bass reverberated through the floor, and I let it take me somewhere else for a while. I let myself get lost in the crowd of other regrettable people, and I allowed my body to move on instinct, to move to the music without much thought.

It was my birthday, as evidenced by the giant sash my friends insisted on me wearing. If anyone were to ask, I had just turned 21. But, truthfully, I still had another year to go before then.

The strangest part about it was that I wasn't usually the kind of person to make a habit out of breaking the rules. At least, not anymore. But something about the last year had made me stir crazy in a way I couldn't explain.

I could've thought harder about it; I could've found a reason. But I didn't want to.

So, I said, fuck it! Everything happens for a reason, right?

The thought perfectly coincided with a pair of pensive eyes that caught my attention through the sea of people I was surrounded by. A man somehow unlike the others was leaning against the bar, seemingly alone. I thought that it was strange, considering how out of place he seemed. Surely, I thought, he must have come with someone else.

But the way he was looking at me told me that, in the very least, he probably wasn't there with a  woman. At least, I'd hoped not.

I almost went to him, but I was stopped by a familiar tapping on my shoulder. My friend was calling my attention to the suddenly relatively empty stage, and not before long she was begging me to join her on it.

I'd never been the best dancer, but I figured it was as good a way as any other to try to get a cute guy's attention. After all, that's what you do in a club, right? As I climbed up with her, I tried to spot him once more. Unfortunately, by the time I gracelessly clambered onto the stage, he'd  already moved from his previous position.

'Oh well,' I thought, 'Maybe he hadn't really been looking at me after all.'

Rather than sulking over the loss, I focused on the music again. I swayed my hips to the beat and closed my eyes. I let my hands run up and down my body the way I wished someone else's would. Not just anyone, though. Someone... different. Someone who might almost make me feel like they'd earned it.

I wondered if that strange man could still see me. I wondered if he was still looking.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when I glanced back to the bar for the fifth time in a relatively short period of time, I finally spotted him again. Once he noticed me noticing him, he quickly turned around, and I knew it was my chance.

I scrambled down off the stage, leaving my friends to enjoy themselves among the writhing bodies and blistering heat. I wanted to enjoy a different primal experience.

Strutting right up to the bar next to him, I leaned over the counter and gave a brief, respectful wave to the bartender. Despite not breaking my gaze, I felt the hairs rose on the back of my neck.

I'd caught someone's attention. I didn't look, though. Not yet.

"Gin and tonic, please," I called when the bartender finally made his way over to me. Once he turned back around to make the drink, I knew it was a good time to look over at the stranger beside me.

Unsurprisingly, he immediately pretended he wasn't looking at me.

"Are you checking me out?" I asked just loudly enough that he would undoubtedly be able to hear me over the music.

His embarrassed reaction answered the question in the affirmative, although he unconvincingly insisted, "U-uh, no. No, I'm not."

"Oh," I responded, moving closer to him to prevent someone from separating us. "That's too bad."

He furrowed his eyebrows, and a small smile broke across his face as he asked, "Is it?"

"Well... Yeah," I laughed.

The way we locked eyes was a challenge, and one he seemed to only half accept. When he looked away from my eyes, it felt less like admitting defeat and more like taking me up on the offer to check me out.

He glanced down at my chest, and I moved from my position leaning against the counter to open my chest up for a better view.

"Can you see it well enough?" I teased with a slow gesture down the sash. I couldn't tell if his face was as red as it looked or if it was just the flashing lights playing tricks on me.

The bartender returned before he answered, and I handed him my change as a tip before holding the drink with my hand over the top. I might have been young, but I wasn't trying to get drugged in a club. I tried not to read into him noticing that habit.

"Happy birthday."

His offering seemed genuine, and this time, it was my face that turned burned. I hoped he didn't notice how flustered such an innocent thing made me, but I had a feeling he did.

"How old are you now?" he followed up, and I realized that I didn't really want him to know. Not the truth, anyway. Still, something about the way his eyes scanned every motion I made just made me feel like he could tell if I was lying.

"A year older than the last."

It wasn't a lie, after all, and he seemed to think it was funny. Behind me, a person was struggling to fit into the crowd at the bar. The somewhat unwelcome result was pushing me closer to the stranger I was quickly becoming acquainted with. But thankfully, when he reached out, he did so respectfully. His grip on my arm was gentle, but enough to stabilize my obviously struggling self.

"Thanks," I said with a bit of a laugh, trying not to seem dramatically inexperienced at this scene. "I'm not used to wearing heels."

He seemed so comfortable despite the chaos. So paradoxically confident yet timid.

"What's your name?" I asked, and he was more than happy to respond.

"Dr. Spencer Reid."

Something was so charming about the way he kept his honorific, which would usually have been irritating. He didn't seem to want to brag about it. He'd just announced it like it was a deeply ingrained aspect of his identity.

"Doctor? You seem pretty young for that," I playfully noted. Not that I was bothered by the prospect of an older man. I sipped on my drink as I waited for a bit of clarification, and his eyes continued to flit back to my lips every couple of syllables.

"Well, if you're talking about a Doctor of Medicine, I'm 30, which is actually the average age a person would be when they complete their residency. But most people with MDs will call themselves doctors after they graduate, so really, I wouldn't be too young at all."

I nodded along as he spoke, wondering if this kind of information dump was common for him. It was... kind of endearing.

Before I could get a word in edgewise, he continued to clarify, "But I'm not that kind of doctor. I have three PhDs; mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have a BA in psychology as well as sociology."

I waited another second to make sure he was finished, and also because I was suddenly feeling quite intimidated. His strange socialization method made sense with his PhD subjects, and the bachelor's explained why he was so observant.

Something told me he didn't need to be told he was impressive.

"What about you? What's your name?" he finally asked, and I realized I never told him my name.

"(Y/n). No honorifics, unfortunately. Not yet."

"(Y/n)," he smiled, repeating it back to me and adding, "It's a nice name."

Uncomfortable talking about myself in light of the foregoing, I opted for a different topic.

"You don't seem like this is your first time in a club."

"Yeah, it's not. I have to go to them occasionally for work. I also grew up in Vegas, so they were kind of... everywhere," he chuckled.

When he raised his glass to his lips, I noticed that the distinct lack of color to his. I didn't mention it. There were so many reasons someone would prefer water, assuming that's what it was, including the basic desire to not be hung over the next day.

"What kind of work regularly takes you to a nightclub?"

I was genuinely curious, but I wouldn't get the answer. At the same time I asked the question, I felt a very strong pressure digging into my arm and yanking me away from the bar.

"Hey there beautiful, why'd you leave the dance floor?"

I didn't even recognize the very drunk man slurring the question to me. He looked like every other generic, idiotic brute that I had encountered through the night.

"Because I don't want to fucking dance with you," I answered as matter-of-factly as I could while seeing nothing but white-hot rage. 

I could see Spencer's demeanor change, like he was about to do something. I shot him a warning glance that this was not his fight, and was pleasantly surprised that he'd respected it. I had gotten quite comfortable with this part of being out on the town.

"Come on, don't be like that," the man barked.

I pulled my arm away. Half of my drink sloshed onto the sticky floor below, but I didn't care. I wasn't going to be drinking it now, anyway.

"I said no," I said in a much louder voice, lifting my foot high enough for it to hurt when I drove the pointed heel directly into his foot. "And don't fucking touch me!"

Before I could throw what was left of my drink onto the asshole, I felt Spencer's much gentler touch. His arm wrapped around my waist as he stepped between me and the man and hurriedly guided me away from the guy and to a nearby table. As soon as I could reach it, I climbed onto a chair at the high top, rubbing my arm where it had begun to raise in welts from his nails.

"What a fucking dick!" I yelled, still fuming from the unwelcome contact.

In stark contrast, Spencer's very warm hand cupped my face, tilting it to look up at him.

"Are you alright?"

It felt like time stopped when he looked at me. Like the earth had halted in its tracks. My perception of the otherwise energetic music seemed to slow down, and the sounds of the crowd drowned away. I wasn't able to focus on anything other than the pounding of my heart and that tried to break through bone cages to find him.

'God, I must be drunk.'

"Hey, are you okay?" he repeated, and I finally snapped back to reality.

With a simple nod, I was suddenly no longer angry at the asshole who had caused the moment to happen.

"Yeah," I mumbled, "Thanks."

"Does that happen to you often?" he asked with a strange mixture of concerned and angry that honestly looked pretty damn attractive on him.

"Unfortunately. Most guys don't like being told they aren't your type. Especially if they aren't used to it."

"I wouldn't know," Spencer shrugged with a gentle laugh, "I'm pretty used to it."

A welcome bit of self-deprecating humor. He moved his hand, and I hated to admit that I'd already missed the warmth of it.

"Well, I don't know why you're used to it. I think you're pretty cute."

The statement was fueled by the alcohol, but it was still true. He wasn't joking about being used to a lack of desire. Seconds after I'd complimented him, he shifted uncomfortably. I tried not to read too far into it. I hoped it was how he would've responded to anyone. 

"Thanks..." he started, shoving his hands in his pockets as he struggled to find something to do with them now that they weren't touching me. "But I feel like an asshole now."

I raised my eyebrows and chuckled at the strange response to a compliment.

"Why?"

"I uh, I lied to you earlier."

My attention piqued, I turned my body towards him and leaned forward to hear him better.

"Oh? To which question?"

He released a hand from his pocket, running it through his hair as he worked up the courage to look at me while he spoke.

"The... first one you asked."

I couldn't help but laugh. All of the air in my lungs was quickly drained by his absolutely endearing honesty. The way he just had to admit that he had been checking me out, as if I didn't already know.

"You are absolutely adorable, Spencer Reid."

He reacted much better to that compliment, although he seemed confused when I held my hand out for his.

"Come here," I instructed.

When he didn't listen, I reached my fingers out to grab his forearm and proceeded to tug him towards me. He took the few steps forward, and I took a moment to appreciate that his height granted me perfect access to his face from the high top.

I bit down on my lip as I glanced between beautiful eyes and his lips that parted softly. I heard his breath come faster the closer I came.

Without moving away, he asked, "What are you doing?"

While wondering if it was possible for him to do anything without being charming, I tightened my grip on his arm and looked up at him with the most lustful look I could muster.

"Well, I guess I'm going to kiss you. I hope that's alright."

"Why?" he asked.

An equally charming and maddening response, to which I just gave a small shrug. His eyes glanced back and forth, clearing trying to read between the lines of my own gaze. I let him. He didn't seem to have any follow up questions or reservations, so I used my free hand to pull his face to mine.

When our lips met, I was transported back to the dance floor in my mind. I could feel the vibrations shaking every inch of the club, but it was nothing compared to the butterflies erupting in my stomach. His hands returned to my face shortly after, and when his tongue slipped into my mouth it was the only confirmation that I got that he had also been drinking.

The taste of vodka and gin mixed, creating a cocktail of alcohol and hormones between us. A small moan escaped my lips at the thought, and part of me hoped he could feel it distinct from the bass. I wanted him to know the effect he had on me. Because, as it turned out, he wasn't just cute and smart, he was an incredibly talented kisser.

Not wanting to stop yet, I hooked a leg around the back of his knee and increased my hold on him. He lowered a hand to grab onto my thigh, and I gasped at the contact. I wondered if this was his first time making out in a club, because it was certainly mine.

Selfishly, I hoped I could be a first of something for him. Realistically, I knew it was unlikely. He was just too damn good at this.

Spencer began to retreat from the kiss, and before he could leave entirely, I bit down on his lower lip. The last, lingering contact seemed to have its desired effect, as he looked down at me like there was nothing else that he wanted more in this world than to keep kissing me.

"Was that a good enough reason?" I asked.

Instead of using words, he just kissed me again in response, with more pressure and less reserved. It was an answer I was more than happy to accept. His grip on my leg tightened, and it was nothing like the way other men grabbed me. When we broke apart this time, I knew it was time. I had to make my move.

"Come outside with me," I begged. 

He seemed not to have expected any invitation, especially such a vague one. Nonetheless, he nodded and stepped back enough to let me hop out of the chair. His hand in mine, I led him through the crowd. He never let go. Not even when we got outside.

The air felt cool and crisp in comparison to the stuffy club. My ears were still ringing, and I wondered if we would sound the same to each other now that we weren't practically screaming. I let out a laugh from pure nerves, excited to be alone with him, but also not really ready to have this conversation.

Of course, he thought I was cute, but I was still a stranger. What if he wasn't actually all that interested and decided to ditch me? That would be embarrassing.

"Heeeeyyy! (Y/n)! How's it going?!" A familiar voice sounded from over by the smokers.

It wasn't one of my friends, per se. More like a friend of a friend. A very drunk and very excited acquaintance. I finally let go of Spencer's hand but glanced back to let him know to follow me over.

I stayed at a  modest distance as I called back, "Hey, how's it going, John?"

"Goin' pretty fucking great," he slurred, and I laughed at how hammered he had managed to get in a couple of hours.

"Sounds like it."

"So, how's 20 treating you so far?"

Now, this is the point where I have to admit to myself and everyone else, that I am not the cleverest person. Because the question seemed so normal, and I was expecting it so much, that I seemed to have forgotten that I was not, in fact, old enough to be at this club.

So, without thinking, I responded, "Pretty fucking great."

To Spencer's credit, he didn't say anything, but I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull. It took me another second to realize what I had just admitted.

Fuck.

I was too scared to turn around. He seemed to know that I wasn't going to address it, and he wasn't the kind of person to make a scene. So when his hand grabbed mine again, and I felt the insistence in his grasp, I knew that I was utterly and completely fucked.

I grimaced to John, who just burst out laughing before yelling, "Oooh, jailbait got busted!"

My head fell backwards as I groaned, letting Spencer begin to drag me away from the crowd as I shouted back, "I'm not jailbait, you dick!"

Following the boy I actually wanted to be with, I tried not to give up hope yet. In a twisted sort of way, I was actually somehow looking forward to the lecture I was definitely about to receive. Seconds after we'd turned the corner into the small alley, he had me backed against a wall.

"What the fuck was that?!" his voice was hushed, although he was clearly still yelling.

I bit down on my lip to stop myself from laughing at his attempts to be scary when his voice was still cracking. I raised my shoulders to shrug, but he continued his ranting.

"You're only twenty?! You can't be here!"

"Well, actually, we're in an alley, which I'm totally allowed to be in."

He did not appreciate my humor.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're not old enough to be at a club, and especially not drinking! What were you thinking?"

He looked so delectable when he was angry, I wasn't sure how he'd expected me to take him seriously. Resting my head against the brick wall behind me, I looked up at him with a bored expression.

"What are you, a cop?"

I honestly wasn't anticipating a genuine response, so when he responded, "An FBI special agent, actually," all I could think was, "Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah, really, (y/n)!" he yelled back, taking a step back when my arms immediately fell from their defensive position.

"That's so cool!" I answered with equal enthusiasm, which he still, clearly, did not like.

"What are you saying? That is not cool! None of this is cool!"

"I mean, I think it's pretty cool."

"I could have you arrested! I should have you arrested!"

The way I raised my eyebrows and smiled was clearly not the reaction he wanted, but I could tell he was intrigued by it. He paused, and I licked my lips with a wicked grin.

"You gonna cuff me, Special Agent?"

I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and he continued to distance himself from me. I took a step forward to maintain the gap.

"Wait, is it Special Agent or Doctor? I need to know now."

Before I could get too close to him, he had pressed his hand against my shoulder, pushing me back against the wall. 

"Cut it out! Stop trying to distract me," his voice was stern, but his breath was ragged. One of my hands devilishly snuck up, wrapping around his arm that was holding me against the wall. "It's not going to work," he warned.

I didn't believe him. I could also tell that, despite the words, he did not want me to stop.

"How am I distracting you, Special Agent Dr. Reid?"

He could tell what I was doing, but he couldn't stop himself from falling for it.

"Is my proximity distracting you?"

I was pushing his buttons, very purposefully and with a very specific goal. I wanted to see what happened when he broke.

"N-No, that's not—"

I cut him off once more, leaning forward against his hand, dragging my nails against the skin of his arm.

"Do you want to kiss me again?" I asked.

He had to think about the answer, and that angry, tempted face left me burning. I rubbed my legs together in anticipation, and he seemed to notice the subtle movement. With the strength I could muster, I inched his hand against my shoulder lower, letting him feel my heart racing above my breast.

"You do," I responded to my own question, recognizing his silence as assent.

I met his eyes in another challenge, knowing this time would be much easier than the last. He was already hooked.

"Well then, Dr. Reid. You have at least two options. You can either dig out your work issued handcuffs, haul me downtown and explain what exactly happened between you and a drunk twenty year old girl at the club..." the pressure on my chest lessened as he obviously considered what it would require of him. "You can help them with all of the paperwork, prematurely ending the night, leaving me in a jail, and go home alone... "

The compassion in his eyes was clear, and I knew it was a bit unfair of me to go for such low hanging fruit. He was a good man. He was just trying to follow the rules. He didn't want to hurt me. Unless I asked for it, perhaps.

"Or you can get into an Uber with me to go somewhere else, and I'll let you do whatever you want with mine. Or yours. I'm fine with either."

"My pair, or my place?" he asked, much to my surprise and excitement. I could feel the rush of blood in my ears, but I begged it to be quiet. I hadn't closed the deal yet.

"So you're considering it?"

He finally released his hold on me, but he didn't move away. In fact, he moved closer. Close enough to me that I could almost feel the body warmth radiating from him. I couldn't look down yet, but I was pretty sure what I'd find bulging between his legs.

"I-I... I don't know."

An honest answer, albeit disappointing. My puppy eyes demanded a clearer one. He obeyed their call.

"I'm a law enforcement agent that just caught you in a crime, since I'm assuming you got into that club with a relatively convincing fake ID that I'm certain you still have on you."

I nodded, still unsure where he was going with this monologue.

"I should be arresting you, or at least taking you somewhere safe, not... coming back with you for..."

He trailed off, and I smirked a bit at his inability to finish that thought.

"And yeah, I figured you were young but... I'm ten years older than you."

"And?" I finally asked, wanting him to get to the point that I had figured out, just so I could turn it down.

Spencer took a deep breath before admitting, "I don't want to take advantage of you. I get that there is no sudden change in your brain when you turn twenty one, but the younger you are, the less developed your prefrontal cortex is. Your judgment, your impulse control, the ability to truly anticipate the consequences of your actions, that won't be fully developed for at least another five years!"

He would have kept going, but I had already planned for this response. My hand on his arm jerked him forward, pulling his crotch directly into my other waiting hand. Completely on brand for him, a small yelp sounded as I gently palmed his erection.

With an innocent smile, I whispered, "Dr. Reid, I don't think you're the one taking advantage here."

His features were contorted into an infuriated, yet pleased mess. After another very brief moment of contemplation, he gave into the temptation I was dangling in front of him, laying a deep, frustrated kiss on my waiting mouth.

When we separated, he practically panted into my mouth, "Do you have a hotel room?"

Giggling, I nodded.

"I guess I'll call that Uber now."

————————————————— 

| Part 2 |

[221bshrlocked]

Okay. Here me out. Leaving Javi a note telling him to meet you at your place around midnight 😏

Bruh, you’re killing me and you know perfectly well I am incapable of not writing something down when I get these kinds of messages. ugh. now i’m hot and bothered. Again. I blame you for this and for not being able to start on the Pedro/Sebastian/Reader fics...but enjoy this.

He was already having a hard time ignoring you during debriefing, ignoring the side glances and the smiles and the way you constantly moved just so he could spare you a look. But then you had the audacity to slip a note in his back pocket as you left the meeting and he all but lost it, ignoring Steve’s teasing remarks and almost cussing him out when he heard him laugh at his blush.

Waiting until everyone left the room, he fished the note from his pocket and unfolded it, smiling like a schoolboy when he read your words and shoving it back in his pocket as he returned to his desk. You were standing next to Steve discussing something about the meeting and Javier narrowed his eyes at you when he saw you lean over and whisper something in Steve’s ears.

As soon as you left, Javier sat down and crossed his legs, lighting a cigarette and waiting until Steve turned his way before warning him.

“Fucking watch it.” It was more of a growl than a hiss really and Steve snorted at his partner before holding up his hands and pointing at his wedding ring.

Javier wasn’t sure how he’d managed to keep his mind from steering towards you all day long but as the sun set and the moon rose in the night sky, he was sure he has never been edged for this fucking long. As the clock struck eleven, he decided to hit up the bar near the building where you stayed, hoping to relax before making his way towards you.

He should have known better. As soon as he walked in, he saw you sitting and chatting up the bartender, swirling a clear drink around before throwing it back and asking him for another. He walked towards you, pulling out the chair and lighting a cigarette before nodding towards the man.

“Whiskey por favor...” It was a forced request and you shook your head when you remembered how much he hated it when you laughed at others’ jokes.

“You know, jealousy isn’t an attractive trait Javi.” You winked at him before paying for the drinks, downing the vodka in one sip before standing up and leaning towards him.

“But you make it look so sexy baby.” You whispered in his ears, letting your hands trail down his chest before grabbing his inner thighs. He groaned against you, dragging a breath from his cigarette as you kissed his cheek before walking away.

Javier watched as you sauntered out of the bar with an extra sway to your hips, turning around before exiting and winking at him.

“Pinche puta madre,” he whispered under his breath before mirroring your actions and chugging down the whiskey, forcing a smile at the bartender and leaving a tip right before leaving. He wasn’t a desperate man, far from it, but he felt that it would be rude to keep you waiting.

Running across the street, he pushed the code to the gate and went up the stairs two at a time, strutting straight to your door while attempting to calm his nerves.

He shook his head when he saw it was cracked open, slamming it behind him and not caring how loud he was being as he made his way to your bedroom.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? The hell were you thinking leaving the door unlocked?” Javier didn’t expect to see you almost naked and he hated how distracted he became whenever he saw the expanse of your skin.

“Left it open for you mi amor.”

“Anyone could have walked in.” He was finding it harder to stay in control of his voice, clenching his jaw when he saw you walking towards him in nothing but a bra and panties.

“You’re not anyone Javi.” You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and stepping on his shoes to reach his cheek.

“And how did you know I was going to come now bebé?” His voice was much lower now, hands hovering against the skin of your hips to try and hold off just a little while longer.

“You’ve been undressing me with your eyes all fucking day Javi, that’s how I knew you were going to follow me.” Licking his neck, you stopped right at his Adam’s apple and kissed it before sucking on the cartilage until you felt him wrap his arms around you.

“And you’ve been eye-fucking me all day sweet girl.” He didn’t push you away, enjoying the attention you were giving him and finding it uncharacteristically calming. He thought it was hilarious, the first time you told him just how much his neck turned you on. No one has ever said that to him. Previous lovers usually complimented his lips, his tongue, and not surprisingly, his dick. But then you came along and refused to stop talking about the way his fingers were the right size, and he wasn’t sure if that was in reference to the way he fucked you with fingers sometimes or how he loved to keep hold of your throat as you rode him. And he truly enjoyed those days where you were somehow hornier than him because you went on and on about his mustache and his neck and his jaw and his fucking thighs. It drove him mad.

“Guilty as charged Agent. Now, you wanna put those cuffs to good use or should I just call Steve t-”

“Don’t you fucking dare querida.” You giggled when he growled in response, turning you around and throwing you on the bed. You didn’t bother to turn around, looking over your shoulder to watch him as he stripped down to nothing and joined you.

“Oh, what do we have here?” You smiled when you felt his cock hit your ass cheeks, shaking your hips when you felt him pull down your panties and push them against his nostrils.

“Smell so fucking sweet, all the god damn time.” Javier was talking more to himself than you and he narrowed his eyes down at you when he saw the way you were eyeing him.

“Javi please, I need you. Just fuck me already.”

“You sure you don't wanna call Steve cariño?” He was teasing you, unhooking your bra and trailing his eyes down the curves of your back as you took it off and threw it away. He pushed the head of his cock in your cunt and held himself there, waiting for you to beg for him.

“Please Javi, lo siento...I don’t want anyone else baby. I want you to fuck me, please...missed this cock. Missed having you fill me up with your cum...don’t you wanna feel me baby?” You knew what your words did to him, even if he didn’t tell you. That was the thing with Javier, once he heard you begging for him, he’d forego all plans of teasing you. And just as you knew, Javier was bottoming out and throwing his weight on you, hissing in your ears as he slowly bucked his hips against your ass and filled you up.

“Fucking shit sweetheart. You’re always so tight around me. So warm and tight and fucking heavenly.” Javier bit down on your shoulder, sliding his arm beneath you and cupping your breasts to keep some semblance of control. You were panting under him, occasionally gasping his name when you felt him pinch and roll your nipples in between his fingers.

He alternated between deep and slow thrusts to quick and shallow ones, enjoying the way you whined and moaned every time he changed his pace just to deny you of your orgasm. With each pass of his cock, you felt your cunt squeeze tighter around him, the wet, squelching sounds you were making letting him know just how much you wanted him tonight.

“Come on querida, don’t fall behind.” Javier moaned against your ear, snapping his hips again and again until the only sounds in the room where your combined heavy pants and his navel hitting your ass cheeks.

“Just want your hands Javi, I- ah fuck, I’m so close baby you fuck me so good. No one- oh god, no one fucks me like you Javi. Please, I wanna cum. Wanna cum on your cock oh god, oh fuck- right there, right fucking there.”

“Fucking hell baby that’s it. Taking my dick so deep...so well. Cum on me, let me feel this sweet cunt clench around me. Milk me dry mi cariño..fuck, ah fuck- cum on me. Now!” His pace faltered, and he felt your legs shaking beneath him just as he pushed his cock one last time inside you before coming, and you bit his wrist when you felt him coating your walls with streaks of warm cum. He rubbed at your clit furiously, hissing when you violently squeezed around him as you reached your peak. When you tried to reach down and stop him, Javier shook his head against you and bit your back, continuing his assault on your pussy until you were begging him to stop.

When he finally pulled away and rolled to his side, you turned your face towards him and let out a deep sigh of relief. He reached down to his pants and took out another cigarette, lighting it as he sat up against the headboard and motioned for you to come to him. You grabbed the covers and haphazardly threw them over the two of you, nuzzling into his side as he drew random patterns on your shoulders.

“Next time you want me fuck you querida, don’t give me a twelve-hour heads up.” He looked serious but you knew this was as close to him being playful as he could get.

“Well, I just wanted to give you something to look forward to...”

“Yeah well, I barely got anything done today...’ve been fucking hard since I read your note.”

“I mean you can always just fuck me on your desk.” You smiled when he raised an eyebrow at you before blowing out smoke through his nose. Only Agent Javier Peña could make smoking look this sexy.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Showing everyone how much of a good girl you can be.” He finally cracked that infamous toothy smile at you and you swore your heart was close to leaping out of your chest and flying out the window.

“Only for you Javi, only for you.”

[sokkastyles]

“Imprisoned” was one of the episodes that really stood out to me when I first watched the series, and it’s still a great episode. It is, of course, a Katara episode, and helps to flesh her out a lot as a character, as well as fleshing out the world of the show and the history of the past hundred years and what the war has done to people.

Also. I love. The prison warden. He’s a great minor character. He’s incredibly awful, but also bombastic and hilarious.

Warden: Tell me exactly what you saw.

Captain: Well, sir, it looked like a flying bison.

Warden: [Surprised.] What?

Guard: It was a giant flying buffalo, sir. With an empty saddle.

Warden: Which was it? A buffalo or a bison?

Captain: Uh, I'm not sure what the difference is, but that's not really the point, is it, sir?

Warden: [Furiously.] I'll decide what the point is, fool!

I love this guy so much that I needed to find out who the voice actor was, and...

Oh, that explains it.

This episode shows Katara’s idealism, her desire to fight, but also how she and Sokka have been relatively sheltered from the war in the Southern Water Tribe. While the Southern Water Tribe does face the threat of raids, they aren’t as close to the war as the people of the Earth Kingdom, and here we have the gaang visiting an Earth Kingdom village occupied by fire benders where earth bending is outlawed. This is an interesting situation for Katara in particular because of her own pride in and special relationship to her bending. She can’t understand how Haru can hide his bending, and encourages him to use it, which ends up in him getting caught and sent to the prison ship.

When I first watched this episode I thought, well, of course Katara wants Haru to use his bending, because her own bending is such a huge part of who she is. Of course she doesn’t like the idea of anyone telling a bender not to bend, since she was prepared to leave her own home in order to learn how to master her bending.

Watching the episode with the knowledge of Katara’s full backstory, what struck me is how similar Haru and Katara’s situations actually are. The reason Katara was able to live is because of her mother hiding her bending. Here we meet Haru, who is forced to hide his bending every day, and describes how his bending connects him to his imprisoned father. Of course this appeals to Katara.

So of course Katara has to free Haru by pretending to be an earthbending prisoner. Another thought I remember having when I first saw this episode is that Katara is still relatively naive, in comparison to the earthbenders who have had their spirits broken by Fire Nation occupation and imprisonment. Katara also has more agency than the earthbenders because she’s only pretending to be an earthbender. She can still bend, even when they can’t.

Of course this episode also was the one that had me screaming “METAL IS MADE OF EARTH” at my screen. Like, oh, you can’t bend because you’re on a metal ship? This better be a plot point later, guys!

This episode showcases Katara’s bravery and determination to help others, but also her adaptability. Her idealism pays off. Her first speech fails because she can’t motivate the earthbenders without first empowering them, but when she arms them with coal, she gives them the tools to fight back.

We also see the primary characteristics of the Earth Kingdom people according to the show, their ability to endure. The warden is convinced that the earthbenders won’t fight because their spirits are broken, but once they are able to fight back, they grow strong. This also mirrors what Zuko says about how the people of the Earth Kingdom can endure as long as they have hope.

The prison warden describes earthbending as an inferior form of bending at the same time that Katara says that Water Tribe children are told stories of the strength of earthbenders. I think it’s interesting to get the various nations’ perspectives on the different kinds of bending.

This episode ends with Zuko finding Katara’s necklace. Haru reunites with his dad and Katara loses her connection to her mother, interestingly by fighting against Fire Nation bender suppression, which was the thing her mother died for. Zuko doesn’t immediately use the necklace, though. The next episode has him waiting on Iroh and then having to forego chasing Aang to rescue Iroh. It makes it more significant that he disregards following Appa when he already has an advantage in the necklace.

[samwrights]

i really like your seijoh baby fever hcs 😭 could i please request with 3rd gym + ushi and tendou ☹️

BABY FEVER PART 2 HUH 🤧🤧 alright, lets dive in y’all. Also, side note, I am sooooo soft for Akaashi’s inferiority complex. I just wanna hold his hand and tell him he’s perfect.

Also, Tsukki kinda got angsty??? I m sorry.

Bokuto;

This nut has baby fever with you

That baby radar we talked about last time—you both had it.

You can bet there’s a competition of who saw the cuter baby at the grocery store when the two of you go.

Though, no one ever wins because they’re all fckn cute.

You’re a little bit worse off than Bokuto though, in the sense that you won’t stop mentioning “when” you guys have kids versus “if”

And it’s kinda doing lots of funny things to him

Especially if you guys have friends over that have kids.

If you’re nowhere to be found, you can bet that you’re in the backyard playing tag or hide and seek.

H o l d I n g t h e m.

Friends who have babies are especially allowed over, just so you can hold them.

And feed them.

Oh my god, the way their eyes open?? So full of love and wonder??

Your weakness #7.

And Bokuto weakness #41—seeing you feed and hold a newborn

Never in his LIFE has the owl seen you look so happy and loving and glowing.

Not even on your guys’ wedding day.

You did but whatever, Bo.

Wait who’s got baby fever? You? Or Bo?

Both. Both is good.

But, Bokuto being him, he kinda starts to worry about the fact that you haven’t even brought up having kids.

Like y’all have been married for a year

This is what married couples do, right? No

So he’s in emo mode, but this is a whole different kind of dramatic.

He’s so serious and blunt and it’s kinda scary.

“[name], do you even want to have kids with me?”

ASSFGHJKL

“Bo, please tell me you didn’t just ask me that.”

But you can tell by the way his pupils his shrink yet his eyes become wider than the moon—he’s hopeful.

“Koutarou, I’ve literally been saying for the last four years, when we have kids. It’s kind of a given.”

“...can we get started then?”

Akaashi;

Akaashi gets soooo flustered when you start talking babies.

Because no matter how many different ways he looks at it, he thinks he’s not ready.

Especially when your newborn nephew gets dropped off for baby sitting.

How are you such a natural with kids?

Akaashi pretends not to notice the soft spoken voice you use for the baby.

Or the way it looks so natural, so right, to see you balancing him on your hip while you warm up a bottle.

He learned you’re also a co-sleeper and jump at the opportunity to nap with your nephew

It’s hard image for Akaashi to force out of his mind

But he can’t help but wonder if you’d do the same with your kids.

Then he starts panicking a little because he.’s falling down the rabbit hole of thinking he wouldn’t be a good dad.

Even more so when you bring up wanting to have a family with him.

Apparently you were prepared to just forego the entire idea of marriage and skip straight to family

Akaashi can and will freak out about that at another time.

“Shouldn’t we wait? Until we’re ready?”

“I am ready, Akaashi. But something tells me that you aren’t.”

“...I don’t wanna mess up.”

Akaashi isn’t very vocal when it comes to his insecurities—it came with the territory of handling Bokuto for a couple years.

So when he’s sharing them with you, you naturally jump into overprotective mom girlfriend mode.

“Akaashi, I wouldn’t want to have kids with you if I didn’t think you’d be a good dad.”

Did I mention he’s got a bit of a praise kink?

Cause that just went straight from his ears to his dick.

Kuroo;

Being married to Kuroo Tetsurou comes with a warning label.

One you had to recite as a vow.

“I will not bring up children until I am ready.”

You always thought it was a little weird when he asked you include something along those lines.

And, after a year, you sometimes forget your vow. You’re only human.

What else is human is this ADORABLE toddler in the car next to you guys at a stoplight who won’t stop waving at you.

“Aw, Tetsu look! Say hi!” The former captain’s eyes narrow questioningly, but he doesn’t say anything yet.

It only gets worse from here on out.

Why do kids like waving at you? Idk, but it happens pretty frequently.

Like when the two of you go out to eat and a baby in their high chair stops throwing their food on the ground, just to smile and babble as they look at you.

It makes you soft.

And, considering you’re sitting right in front of him, Kuroo sees the way your eyes become three shades lighter with every interaction.

“Remember your vow, baby.” He grits out, though the strain goes entirely over your head.

“Why did you make me say that anyway?” Kuroo never explained why—only begged that you included it.

“Cause once we start having kids, we aren’t stopping until you physically can’t anymore.”

Oh.

OH.

“Hey, Tetsu?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we start when we get home?”

Tsukishima;

If you expected all of these to be happy hcs, I hate to disappoint.

But Tsukki wants to strangle you when you bring up kids.

He’s brought it up so many times that he does not want kids.

No matter how many times you fawn over your friends’ children.

Or how much you splurge on gifts when you have to attend a baby shower.

That last one in particular especially made him want to fight you.

You will tease and joke over and over how much you just want him to impregnate you.

“[name], no.”

“Come on, Tsukki. You’d be such a hot dad!”

He’s not gonna deny that.

But he is definitely going to deny impregnating you.

Unfortunately, this is a recurring argument for the two of you.

To the point where you feel a little empty every time you hear once of your old friend’s just introduced another family member.

And Tsukki knows it’s wearing down heavily on you.

To where you almost aren’t really yourself anymore.

“I’m not agreeing to this,” he says one day when he finally sits you down, “but give me some time to...mentally prepare for being a family.”

“N-no, I’m okay, you don’t—“

“No, you aren’t. I miss you, [name]. And if this is what it takes to get you back, then I have to try.”

Ushijima;

Let’s be real—Ushi kinda dense.

So honestly, don’t expect him to pick up or understand the excitement you have when you see a baby

Or fawn over receiving wedding invites because someone still hasn’t popped the question.

I’m not pointing any fingers. Wakatoshi.

N e way. You’re not as eager for a baby as some. Or at least, you’re not as transparent about it.

Yes seeing little babies napping in their stroller sends your ovaries in a frenzy

Or seeing or hearing a baby cry in public forces your maternal instinct to go into overdrive.

But you were good! Really!

At least that’s what Toshi thinks

Until he overhears you on the phone with someone after getting home from work. Your mother, apparently.

“No, mom, he hasn’t proposed. Yes, I know we’ve been together for the better half of a decade, thanks for reminding me. No, you aren’t going to have any grandkids anytime soon.”

Oh. Was...was he doing something wrong?

“I should go, Toshi’s gonna be home soon.”

As soon as you open your bedroom door, you’re met with your stone-faced partner who was standing close enough that, if the door were still closed, he would have been pressed up against it.

“Are you upset with me?”

“Wha—no! No, you know how my mom gets...”

Ushijima may be a little dense, but he is at least somewhat aware enough to know when you’re lying.

“Let’s talk.” Not allowing you to escape, his large hands plant themselves on your shoulders just as firmly as his voice, leading the two of you to sit on the edge of the bed. “Is that what you want? A marriage? A family?”

“Of course, Toshi, I love you. We’ve been together for seven years—“

“Whatever you want, I will do for you.”

Tendou;

You had always told Tendou you didn’t want kids any time soon.

And he’s totally okay with—gives you two the chance to be just that.

So you both agreed to you going on birth control. IUD specifically, just so you didn’t have to worry about anything for a few years at a time.

Nothing to worry about!

Except seeing your best friend hold her newborn is doing funny things to you

And your other BFF just found out she’s pregnant

Now they’re both kinda just expecting you to follow in line

“You guys know I’m not ready.”

But they see just how tender you are with the newborn

Or how you’re very involved with the pregnant one, constantly asking her questions of what she’s feeling and how excited she is to be a mom

They know you too well—you’re already entertaining the idea.

So while you and Tendou are laying on the couch together, you try to nonchalantly bring it up. Try.

“How would you feel if I didn’t replace the IUD this time around? Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Tendou’s typically bemused face perks up. “Oh? Making plans without me?”

“Wha—no! I’m just asking a question!”

“Mm, okay,” though his tone is light, there’s a bit of a teasing drawl, “then, hypothetically speaking, I would try to convince you to finally let me get you pregnant.”

Haikyuu!! Tag List

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

@hihiq @dreamyjaems @tamcitrus @yourlocalmemedumpster @90s-belladonna​ @basicallyberry​

[danteinthedevildom]

A Royal Pajama Party “Analysis” - Part 1 (of 7)

I mentioned (a while ago, oops) that I had a lot of thoughts on Diavolo’s character as revealed in the A Royal Pajama Party Devilgram. I ended up with so many screenshots, I couldn’t contain them all to a single post - so I’ve had to split it up into seven parts (ironically). 

For this first part, I’m focusing on the free chapter. Spoilers under the cut, of course! 

To start off with, I’m going to focus on this one, single screenshot. Despite how short it is, there’s a lot that’s revealed in just six words. 

My main point of focus? Diavolo is so genuinely excited to spend time with you - actual time, not time he’s tried to slot in with some pretend event to trick you into hanging out with him - that he’s been actively waiting for you to turn up. 

This is something I’ve noted before, but we know from previous Devilgrams that Diavolo doesn’t often get to spend time with other beings simply because nobody really wants to. He openly admits that he has to trick his friends into it by planning parties - as seen in the Concealed in Colour Devilgram - and that he struggles to get out of that habit now that he’s found someone (you) willing to visit the castle just to see him. No other alterior motives required. 

And here he is, finally setting something up without trying to trick you into it! He doesn’t feel as unsure about your friendship with him anymore; he’s aware - and accepted - that you are there for him, to see him, and that he really can just ask for your time and have you willingly show up. So he’s created this little, private sleepover just to hang out with you. That shows a heck of a lot of improvement in his confidence with you and the strength of your friendship (or relationship, depending).

It also just shows the sheer excitement he has towards it. He’s anticipating the moment you arrive with such ferver that he’s been actively waiting for you. I’ll go over this a little more beneath another screenshot, but this really does highlight A) just how much it means to him that you’re coming over for a hangout and nothing more, and B) how rarely this happens for him that it’s an event worth waiting for. 

This is, mostly, just exceedingly cute, in my eyes. 

Firstly, the onesies are canonically a gift from Diavolo due to his enthusiasm for the concept of sleepovers and his enjoyment at having everyone wear one (which he believes makes it feel like a festivity). He’s so into the idea of everyone doing something together that, even if they aren’t specifically there with him, he’s had these outfits made for the beings he considers friends to unify them in fun and merriment. 

These are things he’s never been able to do before. With his isolated and sheltered childhood, the experience of sleepovers with friends - something more than normal for most (if not all) of us - would have been something he completely missed out on due to the impossibility. He couldn’t get anyone close enough to him to even make friends, let alone have them spend the night with him playing games and having fun. 

So, this act of making onesies and sending them out? This is probably his own way of replicating that experience. He’s aware that a lot of the demons - and possibly the angels - won’t be too enthused with the events he has planned, and might begrudge even showing up. Doing this instead - letting them have their own sleepovers but with his gift - is like giving them that freedom and distance from him while still being involved. 

It also shows the sort of relationship he wants to have with them. Yes, he canonically needs to send everyone an outfit since that’s how outfits in these events work - but the devs could have just as easily come up with some other reason for them all having onesies. Considering the main event, it could’ve literally just been “these are outfits forced on them as part of the curse, and are retained afterwards as a reminder of the experience”. 

To state, then, that Diavolo had these made for everyone - and combined with another screenshot I’ll show later, where Diavolo announces that he believes onesies to be part of the sleepover experience - shows that he wants the other main characters to be the kind of friends comfortable and happy enough in his company to willingly spend extended time with him. 

(It also shows, I think, that they’re the friends he always hoped for as a child. You often find that people who were isolated as children or forced to grow up too quickly try to recreate moments they never got to experience in their childhood once they’re adults. I fully believe Diavolo is doing this. He’s always doing this; it’s why he can be so immature at times. He wasn’t allowed to be a normal kid, so he’s being a big kid now to make up for lost time. It’s why it’s so important to him that he does this sort of thing with others.)

Secondly, I love the wording of the second screenshot: “I’ve had yours specially tailored”. 

This is a way around not showing MC with a onesie, and allowing all of us to create our own, sure. However, it’s also Diavolo openly admitting that he’s put extra work (and no doubt time and money) into having MC’s outfit created. After all, it’s not likely due to us being human; Solomon’s a human too, and he got his onesie without issue (Simeon explains that Purgatory Hall get theirs at the same time in his SSR Devilgram, Purgatory’s Pajama Party).

The implication? Diavolo didn’t just want to give us a onesie; he wanted to give us the perfect onesie. 

Do you recall that I said I’d come back to Diavolo’s waiting later? This is why. (Please excuse the shoddy editing to remove my own MC’s name-)

This exchange says so much about Diavolo’s relationship with you. Not only is he anticipating your arrival, he’s anticipating it with such unrestrained glee that he - the Prince of the Devildom; most powerful demon in his entire kingdom - ignored typical royal protocol and sat down in front of the castle entrance, impatiently waiting for your arrival, so he could be the first person you saw as you entered. 

The way he words it, you can imagine him bubbling with excitement, eyes constantly flickering over to the clock, shifting in his seat until the need to pace drew him to his feet, counting down the minutes until your scheduled arrival. Then, maybe fifteen minutes early - or thirty, or an hour - he can’t contain himself anymore. The sheer excitement - the knowledge that you’ll be there soon, there of your own free will, there to spend time with him - finally gets the better of him, and he sneaks away to stand before the grand front doors, eagerly awaiting the moment they open to reveal your much-loved form. 

I’d definitely say it was a substantial amount of time, too. Fifteen minutes at the least, and maybe an hour at the most; Barbatos seems genuinely shocked, and the fact he says “all this time” implies Diavolo’s been guarding the door for a while. Longer than any reasonable demon - let alone a royal one - should have been. 

This childish excitement really does show just how much of that lost youth Diavolo is getting back through MC. You let him experience things he never got to; things that were utterly normal for everyone else. He gets to replace those memories of loneliness and isolation with these moments of exhilaration and unrepentant joy - all because you treat him like someone normal. Someone worthy of care.   

Additionally, the extent to his feelings towards you? Fully encompassed in that screenshot: “For [MC], no amount of time is too long.”

He cares about you and enjoys your company to such a degree, he’ll wait however long it takes just to see you. Every moment spent counting the minutes and seconds is worth it if, at the end, he gets to spend time with you. You - the one being he’s fully confident enjoys his presence as much as he enjoys yours - mean so much to him, you’re fully capable of making the Prince of the Devildom wait for hours, and he’ll be perfectly content to just sit there until you arrive.

What other being in all the Three Realms can claim the same thing? That they made the Prince wait for their arrival, and rather than be met with annoyance and disregard, they walked in to a veritable man-puppy so overwhelmingly enthused to see them he had to be scolded by his butler for breaking protocol?

The best part, of course, is Barbatos’ response. He sounds so resigned, so disbelieving; like a mother sighing over their child’s ridiculous behaviour. 

This isn’t the first time Diavolo’s done something like this. This isn’t the first time Barbatos has had to reprimand Diavolo for acting in an un-princely manner over you. It’s something we’ve seen before, of course - in the aforementioned Concealed in Colour Devilgram, Barbatos teases Diavolo for constantly inviting MC over just to see you - but in this instance? When it’s not just Diavolo making up some scheme to lure you to the castle? It implies something else.

Firstly, it implies Diavolo’s behaviour regarding you is completely different to his behaviour regarding anyone else. That sort of childish, gleeful, almost puppyish excitement? The enthusiasm that makes him lose his poise and authority, and drives him to do such expressive things as wait to greet you at the front door? That’s very likely reserved only for you. It’s only you that he so wholly loses his shit over, to be absolutely blunt about it. It’s only you he feels so strongly for as to make such a bold declaration over. 

Secondly, though? It implies this sort of... length, I think, is the best way to word it; the lengths Diavolo will go for you, even in really small, insignificant ways. “Whenever anything concerns [you] in the slightest”, Diavolo will forego all set boundries and standards. That feeling of resignation is Barbatos chastising Diavolo’s utter willingness to do... pretty much anything for you. 

He’s just so excited that you’re there, he overreacts. From the tone, the sprite, and the wording used, I could fully imagine that, when it comes to you, Diavolo isn’t above diving out windows just to keep good on a promise. He isn’t above going the extra mile for your sake, whether asked for or not. 

And though it’s done in a humorous way here - really just implying that Barbatos is a bit done with Diavolo’s sillier antics when it comes to you - it does make me wonder just how far that goes. It’s when anything concerns you “in the slightest”. Not just directly, but anything that has you in it even tangentially. 

How much has Diavolo done, or planned, or changed, solely because it might have a glancing side-effect that makes you smile? How many times has Barbatos had to mention your name in something to get Diavolo to take an active interest in it? How many times has, “I believe MC would benefit from this...” actually worked to get Diavolo to consider a proposed deal? 

More than that, however; if these are the lengths Diavolo goes to when you’re only slightly involved... what lengths would he go to if you’re more directly involved? What lengths would he go to if your involvement was something dangerous? Something that could have a rippling effect across the Three Realms?

You’re the only true friend Diavolo really has. He’s admitted before, more than once - both in the main game and in Devilgrams - that he’s aware both Lucifer and Barbatos don’t consider him as much of a friend as he considers them, and although we know of someone like Queen Rose, we don’t actually know the full extent of their friendship. Certainly not all too close, if the Dame event was anything to go by; it still felt stiff and formal, and Diavolo was still putting on airs. 

You’re the only friend he can really let loose with; can laugh and play and spend time with, without having to do so through a veneer of formality. 

He can be himself around you. Not the Prince, but Diavolo.

How far would Diavolo go to preserve the only friend he’s ever had?

+++

This post is the longest one of the lot, so if you made it this far - thank you! Hopefully it’s been an enjoyable and easy read. 

The next set of screenshots are a bit more clear and don’t require so much in-depth thinking, but still provide plenty food for thought regarding Diavolo and his relationship with MC. They also go into content that you have to use Story Keys to unlock, so if you’re unwilling to see spoilers, you’ll have to end your reading here.

That said, if you’ve already unlocked the Devilgram (or are curious about what happens next/how much we learn about Diavolo in the next chapter), you can hop right over to part 2!

[hockeyisit]

DAYDATE

Summary: Amelia and Auston hang out in Arizona 

AN: The ending is a little rushed because it was getting really long. 

Word Count: 3,635

Unedited

Master List

Slamming my laptop shut I smile cheerfully to myself. After waking up the next to Auston the day after our first date I apologized profusely for falling asleep on the couch. He had to reassure me that it truly was fine about thirty times before I actually in fact did believe him. Auston had drivin me back to my hotel and had asked me if I was going to be free again before I head back to Toronto.

I had told him I was free and we had made plans for two days later which was now today. I glanced in the hotel mirror as I took in my outfit and makeup. I was wearing some cute jean shorts with a crop top. Auston hadn't told me anything that we were doing except that it was going to be an all day thing starting with lunch. Hearing my phone vibrate from the bathroom I ran over to pick it up.

“Hello?” I ask into the receiver.

“Hey, it's Auston. I’m here in the parking lot.”

“Okay I’ll be right down,” I said reaching over for my purse and sliding into my shoes.

“Can’t wait,” I heard him mumble into the phone. I grinned lightly as I got to the door and unlocked the two extra locks before unlocking the deadbolt. I walked to the elevator.

“I’m hopping on the elevator so it'll probably cut out,” I told him before the call did just that. Once I finally made it outside I looked around for Austons car. Thankfully he was standing leaning up against the passenger door.

“How are you doing today Amelia?” he questioned as he went to pull the door open for me. I grinned at him before walking over and hopping in.

“Perfect,” I responded enthusiastically. He walked around and hopped in the car before turning on the car.

“Me too,” he smiled as he hooked his phone up to the AUX. He opened up his music before debating for a moment and then turning to me.

“Do you want to DJ?” he asked holding his phone out to me. I didnt really want to deal with the pressure so I shook my head no. He seemed fine with that answer and pulled up a song before hitting play and putting his phone down.

“Alright so to lunch. Is there any place that you wanted to try?” he asked as he turned to face me. This was my first time ever being here so I didn’t really have any ideas of the options so I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’m really fine with whatever. Besides Arby’s if you have that here. That place is terrible,” I said with a shudder. He laughed as he pulled out of the parking spot.

“What do you have against Arby’s,” he questioned glancing at me for a second before returning his eyes back to the road.

“Have you smelled it? It’s seriously terrible,” I said as I shrunched up my nose. He nodded his head for a moment.

“It does smell pretty bad,” he laughed back and I joined in.

“I have a place in mind and I promise it’ll be better then Arby’s,” he promised. I gave him a small grin before looking out and taking in the views around me.

“I could never imagine growing up here,” I said truthfully as I leaned back into my chair. He hummed for me to continue.

“It’s so cool, and always warm. I would feel like I’m on vacation every day,” I said as I admired his face.

“I loved growing up here,” he said gently resting his arm on the armrest. He pulled into a parking space outside of a building called Grassroots Kitchen & Tap. He reached over for his phone and opened it to safari before searching something up and then handing it to me.

“Would you want anything from here?” he asked. I took the phone from him to see it opened to the menu. I looked through it for a few minutes before nodding my head.

“Yeah this sounds good,” I said locking his phone and handing it back to him. He grabbed it before turning his car off for the two of us to get out. As I walked towards the door Auston met me in front of the car and rested his hand on my back as the two of us walked towards the host.

“Hi. Table for two?” the hostess asked sweetly. I nodded my head while Auston responded with a yes. She smiled before turning to the other host and then one led us to a table in the back of the restaurant. It was absolutely stunning. There were flowers everywhere and so much natural beauty. Auston pulled out my chair and I took my seat before he moved to sit himself.

I smiled in amazement. I had never felt so special in my whole life. I had dated a few people in my life but I had never been treated as amazing as Auston had treated me just the few times that we had spent together. Auston handed me the drink menu.

“You can get a drink if you want,” he said softly before scanning his eyes over his own menu. I looked between the two menus trying to decide what I wanted. The server came by and greeted us before asking us what we would like to drink.

“I’ll take a lemon drop martini please ,” I said glancing up from the menu and over to Auston.

“Water please,” he said, placing his menu on the table. The server nodded before taking off and leaving the two of us alone.

“You didn’t want a drink?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll get one at some point,” he laughed leaning forward towards me. I grinned leaning towards him and resting my face on my hand.

“How is it being home?” I asked after the two of us stared at another for some time.

“It’s been good. I’ve seen my family a lot,” he reached for his drink from the server as he spoke to me. I grabbed mine and we quickly placed our order before being left alone again.

“Who all have you been seeing in your family?” I questioned him not knowing much about his family.

“I don't get to see my sisters Alex and Breyana often or my mom and dad so mostly them. I’ve been going over for dinner and what not. I try to spend as much time as I can when I’m home for the offseason,” he said. I took a sip of my drink.

“Sounds like you're pretty close with your family,” I gave him a gentle smile, he nodded his head in agreement.

“How about you? Are you close with yours?” he questioned gently. I felt myself tense up for a second before forcing myself to relax.

“No not exactly,” I said, taking a deep breath. I reached for my drink and took a sip before continuing. Auston noticed my nerves and reached for my hand.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he reassured.

“It’s okay I want to,” I said softly trying to figure out where to start.

“I moved to Toronto to get away from them honestly. I was pretty close to my mom, but she passed away from cancer when I was in high school,” I felt my eyes water for a second before I forced it to go away. Auston’s eyes looked saddened as he took me in. His hand gave mine a gentle squeeze.

“I never really got along with my dad, he’s kind of just an asshole and racist. I haven't talked to him in almost two years. I have twin brother  Dean and Will and then a younger sister Amanda. I talk to them sometimes but they are all still in the states,” I finished softly. His face hardened as I talked about my father before he relaxed slightly.

“How old is your sister?” he asked pulling his hand away as the server dropped off the food. We both started digging in the second that the server was gone.

“She’s 17 so she still lives at home with my dad,” I huffed as I cut into my food. He nodded his head as he took a bite of his food.

“I’ve always wished that I had a close family,” I admitted with a small shrug. He glanced up from his food towards me and smiled gently when he was done chewing his food. I dug into my own food and the two of us finished before being interrupted by our server handing over the bill. Auston quickly swiped it up to pay before handing it back over.

“Alright, ready for our next place,” he said standing up and reaching out for my hand. I grabbed his as I stood up and he led us out to the car.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I raised his hand up under my chin. He looked at me before glancing away.

“Mini golfing,” he responded quietly. I let out a light squeal.

“Really?” I asked pausing our walk back to the car. He held my door open for me while I hopped into the car.

“My little sister recommended this place,” he said closing the door and making his way over to the car.

----

“What color ball do you want?” Auston asked as he reached toward the balls. I took in all the colors before making my decision.

“Blue,” I said, reaching up to tie my hair into a ponytail. As we had stood out in the heated sun I had felt a sweat start to build up. Auston reached for the blue and black ball before foregoing the paper to keep score.

“Don’t want to keep score?” I questionly teased. He placed his hand on my back leading me to the first hole.

“I get pretty competitive and I don’t think I’m ready to show you just how much,” he teased back. I laughed as I reached down to place my ball in place. I glanced at Auston before getting into stance and took my first hit. I wasn’t too horrible when it came to certain sports so I ended up getting the ball pretty close to the hole.

“So your a sore loser?” I joked back. He embarrassedly laughed before nodding his head slightly.

“I don't lose often,” he followed up with. I chuckled at that as I watched him take his stance. He took his shot and got it closer than mine.

----

“Alright next up a hike,” Auston said as he put his seatbelt on.

“A what?” I scoffed. That did not sound like something I would find fun.

“A hike. You know we walk and we explore in nature,” he said, putting his car in reverse. I reached out and placed my hand on his arm.

“But Auston. It’s like really hot out there,” I said dramatically as I pointed out the window. He laughed as he nodded his head.

“It’ll cool down as we hike,” he said, turning into a dirt parking lot.

“But I’ve never hiked,” I tried another excuse.

“I have so will be safe,” he reassured, shutting his car off and leaning into the back seat for his backpack.

“C’mon, I got a surprise for you at the top,” he said, opening my door that I still hadn't opened. I sighed before grabbing his hand and hopping out of the car.

“Okay but do you have water and sunscreen?” I asked, turning to face him. He took his backpack off before opening it up to show me both. I grinned before taking his hand and the two of us started to make our way up.

----

“Oh my God. I swear if we're not almost there I’m giving up Auston,” I grunted breathless from the walk up. I thought that I was in shape but I was seriously out of breath as the Arizona heat beat down on us. Auston glanced over to me and handed the water bottle over to me. I gratefully took it before taking a sip.

“Were almost there. I can see it from here,” he said pointing over to where we were trying to get. Auston himself was sweating just as bad as me but due to his career he seemed to be able to handle the hike better than I was.

“Okay but one second,” I said, stopping needing to catch my breath. We had already stopped a few times up the hill. Mostly because we needed water breaks with how hot it was.

“I can carry you the rest of the way,” Auston offered, interrupting my train of thoughts. I glanced over with my mouth slightly opened before closing it.

“It’s really not that far and I don’t mind,” he walked over to me and crouched in front of me. Feeling like I had no choice I hopped on his back. We were both pretty sweaty but neither of us seemed to mind. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head against his. He wrapped his arms around my legs tightly to hold me in place. He walked the rest of the way to the top which truly wasn't that far and dropped me off on a rock before taking a seat next to me.

“This view is amazing,” I said a few minutes later after both of our breaths had evened out. I leaned my head against his shoulder as I took in the view before us. Arizona truly was beautiful. It was sunset so the sky was so colorful.

“Yeah it is,” he said leaning his head against mine.

“What was that surprise?” I asked as I leaned into him. He suddenly looked a little nervous.

“So I’m not sure if you'll like it but,” he rubbed his neck as he talked before leaning down to reach into the backpack.

“Your surprise,” he pulled out a joint from the small pocket. I felt a grin slowly come across my face as I reached for the joint and lighter that was in his hand. I put the joint in my mouth before lighting it up. He watched with focused eyes as I did all this before leaning back into me and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I reached up for the joint and moved it to Austons mouth. He took a hit as I held it.

“Great surprise,” I grinned at him as I took in his beautiful face. The sun reflecting on him so perfectly. I took another few hits before handing it to Auston.

“I was a stoner when I was in college,” I told Auston with a small laugh.

“Badass stoner,” he grinned pulling me in closer to him. I laughed lightly before pushing him away to reach for the water bottle.

“I only smoke in the offseason,” he said as I drink my water. I took the joint from him and took another hit. I could definitely feel myself becoming high. It had honestly been awhile since I had smoked because I had a job now and just didn't do it as often.

“You look really beautiful,” Auston murmured into my ear before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I felt myself soften as I looked up to him. I took in his beautiful smile and kind sweet eyes. He looked so relaxed and happy. I leaned up feeling courageous and kissed him on this lips. He responded immediately by pulling me in and placing a hot kiss on my mouth. He had both his arms wrapped around me holding me in closely. I pulled back before giggling slightly. He smiled at me before taking another hit.

“We should head down before it gets too dark,” Auston warned as he burned out the joint. I nodded my head before pulling myself up.

“Okay. I am pretty high though,” I told Auston as I leaned into him. He laughed lightly wrapping his arm around me.

“The good thing is that the walk back is a lot easier than the walk here,” he said as we started are descend.

----

“Dinner time,” Auston cheered as we finally made it to his car. I cheered along as I opened my door and hopped in.

“Where to?” I asked giggling as I buckled up. The walk down had been much faster and I was still pretty high.

“Alright so we can go back to mine, I might have food. We can go pick up food. Or we can go pick up food from my moms,” he listed off. I glanced at him when he said mom and felt a little shock run through me. He wanted me to meet his mother already.

“Well I am all in favor of free food,” I responded

“My moms?” he questioned.

“Aright to your moms,” I laughed lightly. He smiled while making the very short drive. He pulled up into his family home driveway and we both hopped out of the car. I couldn't believe I agreed to do this. I was not mentally prepared to meet anyone in his family.

Auston led me to the front door and opened it easily. We walked into the house and slipped off our shoes.

“Mom,” Auston called as he made his way into the kitchen. I followed behind him and immediately noticed three girls standing at the counter. I shrink in towards Auston a bit feeling overwhelmed before forcing myself to relax when Auston grabbed my hand.

“Oh honey,” the older of the three says walking towards us and pulling Auston into a hug. He lets go of my hand to hug her back but the second they are done his hand is back in mine.

“This is Amelia,” he says pulling me forward a little by letting go of my hand and placing his on my back.

“This is my mom, Ema Matthews and then Alex and Bre,” he said pointing to each of them. I smiled at them shyly before waving. They all smiled back warmly. Bre and Alex shared a look of shock.

“We were wondering if we could steal some food,” Auston said walking closer towards the island with all the food displayed. Mrs. Matthews laughed while walking over to the cabinet for some containers. I glanced over at Auston’s sisters and gave them a smile. They were both so beautiful it was almost intimidating.

“Amelia, Auston tells me that you met on the airplane. Are you from Arizona or Toronto?” Mrs. Matthews asked me as she walked towards the counter.

“I live in Toronto. I’m from Illinois,” I said glancing away from his sisters towards her. She paused her shuffling to look towards me.

“Why such a big move?” she asked politely. I panicked as I tried to come up with something to come up with.

“Mom dont hound her with questions,” Auston tried to say, noticing the panic on my face.

“No it's okay, I just needed to get away from my home a bit and I ended up getting a job in Toronto. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up,” I said cutting him off. Mrs. Matthews sent me a small smile.

“Well, change of scenery is always good for the soul,” she said as she finished closing the containers and stacking them in a bag. Auston grinned as he reached over for it.

“Thanks,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. He walked over to hug both of his sisters before he grabbed my hand and started to lead me to the door.

“I’ll see you guys again soon,” Auston called as he put his shoes on.

“It was really nice to meet you girls, and you Mrs. Matthews,” I said as I also pulled on my shoes. Mrs Matthews had followed us to the door and pulled me into a hug.

“Aw, please. Call me Ema,” she said into my ear before helping us out the door.

“Thank you for the food Ema,” I said as we left the house. She smiled at us before closing the door. I turned into Auston with a smile.

“They seemed nice,” I told him as he pulled me into a side hug. He smiled at me before pulling the door open. Once we were both in the car and buckled Auston started up the car.

“Are we going back to mine?” Auston questioned putting the car in reverse. I nodded my head while leaning back in the chair.

The drive to Auston’s house was really quick. We hopped out of the car and made our way inside and were greeted by an excited Felix who followed us to the kitchen. I glanced at the clock behind Austons head and noticed that it was already 10:20. Auston put the food on the counter along with his backpack. He pulled out another joint and held it up.

“If you want we could smoke this eat and watch a movie,” he said pointing outside. I nodded my head and the two of us walked outside to smoke. He lit it up before taking a few hits. I sat down on the closest seat I could find and Auston sat right next to me.

“I was high when I met your mother. I can't believe I met your mother and sister,” I continued as he stayed silent. He handed the joint to me and I took another hit. I felt myself let out a big yawn as I leaned my head against his shoulder.

Once we finished smoking we went back inside and ate the amazing food his mom had made and put on a movie that I fell asleep to.

[hiccanna-tidbits]

Do you maybe have some headcanons or Au or something for Moana x Merida? I really like that ship! 🤗and I like your moodboards with moanida! ^^

Anon I need you to know I am literally crying TEARS OF JOY because I have FINALLY received an Ask on this humble little blog and I am OVERJOYED

Yes, I would love to talk about Moanida!!!

I’ve got a few AUs I kinda play around with for them--might make moodboards of them one of these days! A couple I really like are a Mermaid AU and a Selkie AU, probably with Moana as the mermaid/selkie because of her ocean connection??? But I really like the idea of Selkie!Merida too, since it would go so nicely with selkies in Scottish folklore and all that. Either way it solves the geographical issue because they can just swim to each other!!! Also yes, these gay girls crossing literal oceans for each other is absolutely the hill I’m going to die on. I’m also a fan of a sort of Mythology/Goddess AU where like Moana is an ocean goddess and Merida is a volcano goddess of sorts akin to Te Ka with cool lava hair and scary volcanic rock skin and only Moana’s soothing ocean waters can calm her eruptive (heh, get it?) rage. And this also means FORBIDDEN SAPPHIC LOVE FORBIDDEN SAPPHIC LOVE FORBIDDEN SAPPHIC LOVE

Also MOANIDA HEADCANONS YESSSS

I thought up some just for you <3 Some are more general and some are more specific AU-focused so I tried to sort them by AU but there’s probably gonna be some overlap.

General ~Merida is THE most overprotective girlfriend. Like she knows Moana’s independent and can take care of herself, but she absolutely will not tolerate slander of or threats to her girlfriend of any kind. If Merida were to meet Maui at any period in the timeline where he and Moana weren’t really cool yet and he was still being kind of a dick to Moana, Merida would try to fight a literal demigod. She doesn’t give a single fuck. ~Once Merida hears about the Tamatoa Incident, she wants to fight every crab she sees. She also develops a taste for crabcakes and crab rangoons because she starts eating lots of crabmeat solely out of spite. Moana finds this endlessly amusing. ~Moana definitely has the braincell between them. She’s constantly having to hold Mer back and talk her down from starting shit. Merida would unleash the Rage of a Thousand Suns upon her enemies if given half the chance. ~Merida is very physically active and loves working out--she would work out twice a day if given the chance. She’s just really about those exercise endorphins. Moana makes her fresh tropical fruit bowls and tropical fruit smoothies for after her workouts. Merida adores these and eventually she absolutely refuses to drink any smoothies not made by her girlfriend. ~They’re both lowkey caffeine addicts. Merida usually loathes getting up early (unless it’s to work out or go riding with Angus) and will snap at anyone and everyone until she’s had coffee. Moana knows how to get her hands on these really amazing-tasting, obscure types of Polynesian coffee, so she hooks them up with The Good Stuff. After tasting the coffee Moana gets, Merida honestly never wants any other B-tier type of coffee again. ~They love to go sailing in Moana’s boat. In a modern AU where the boat has a motor, Merida likes to make them go really fast for the adrenaline rush and the feeling of wind in her hair. It kinda freaks Moana out to go that fast, but it’s honestly worth it for the look of absolute elation on Merida’s face, and the way she laughs and cheers the whole time. ~Sometimes they like to go out on more calm, tranquil night sails. Once they’re a ways out, they just lie on the deck and stargaze. Moana points out all the constellations to Merida and rambles about how to navigate with them. Merida just turns and watches her with this super-smitten look the entire time. ~Moana teaches Merida some Maori. She teachers her how to say “I love you,” and, at Merida’s request, how to swear. ~Sometimes Moana calls Merida Maori words Mer doesn’t understand. Merida gets mad because she thinks Moana’s insulting her. It turns out she’s just calling Merida a bunch of super sappy Maori pet names. ~Sometimes Merida and Moana just like to talk shit about people who are pissing them off IN Maori, so they don’t understand. ~Whenever Merida absolutely goes OFF on someone for saying something homophobic or sexist or whatever, Moana just stands back and crosses her arms and smirks, and says “Thaaaat’s my girl!” It absolutely never fails to make Merida blush like a madwoman and start blubbering like an idiot and lose her original point completely. ~When they fight, they are SO stubborn, petty, and dramatic about it that they can stay mad at each other for DAYS. For really bad fights, they usually end up needing a mediator (in a RotBTD+ AU, I imagine this would be Rapunzel, Anna, or Hiccup). ~Angus and Pua are best friends. No, I will not be accepting criticism at this time. They get into lots of hijinks and shenanigans, and sometimes they sneak out together and Pua likes to ride around on Angus’s back. When Pua and Angus go missing, Mer and Mo just kind of sigh like “Oh, they’re out adventuring again, aren’t they?” ~Angus also always protects Pua so he never has to be scared of adventuring again!!! Pua still remembers his and Moana’s disastrous first sailing attempt, and Angus makes sure little Pua never gets into danger like that again. ~Hamish, Harris, and Hubert ship it SO hard! Moana turns out to be really good with kids, and has even been known to assist with the boys’ mischief from time to time. They definitely think Moana’s a good person to keep their sister’s chaos in check while not being TOO much of a boring wet blanket stifling her fun. ~Sina absolutely ADORES Merida and basically adopts her and treats her like a second daughter. After hearing Merida doesn’t have the best relationship with her own mom and feels like her mom doesn’t try to understand her or respect that she’s different from her, Sina gets like...SUPER angry and and starts doting on Merida to an almost annoying extent. She never wants Merida to have to feel forced into being someone she’s not, since she saw that with Moana and how much it absolutely KILLED her to be kept away from the ocean. ~Tui is leery of Merida at first, mainly because she seems like she’s going to be a bad influence on his daughter. However, he eventually comes around to her once he sees how much she loves his daughter, and they bond over both being ridiculously overprotective of Moana. ~Fergus also adores Moana, and basically knew Merida was gay from the jump--them dating is 0% a surprise to him. He’s honestly just glad that his daughter has someone more rational and down-to-earth to prevent her from doing anything TOO stupid. ~Elinor meanwhile, traditionalist that she is, is NOT about this whole lesbian thing and would probably be pretty homophobic...at least at first (steaming hot take, I know, she’s just got tradition so far up her ass I don’t know if she’d EVER be okay with her daughter choosing not only to forego marriage to man COMPLETELY--not just delay it--but marry a woman instead, who she couldn’t produce an heir with. Also sorry but I do not like her and probably will not portray her particularly favorably in my HCs sorry not sorry lmao) Maybe she comes around, maybe she doesn’t. I’ll leave that up to your imagination. Although I am not an Elinor fan so I think you already know my take XD ~Moana is grey-asexual grey-aromantic, so she CAN be sexually and romantically interested in people, it’s just...very rare. Merida is basically the only person she’s ever wanted to legit date. Maybe she likes boys too, but she wouldn’t know--she hasn’t found any she’s into thus far. Merida, meanwhile, has always been a raging lesbian, and has had lots of crushes on girls over the years (in an AU where she has the opportunity to, anyhow--ARE there even any girls her age in Dunbroch??? XD). When her parents would read storybooks to her as a kid, she’d always finding herself getting doe-eyed over the “fair maidens” rather than the fearless, ripped warriors who saved them from danger.  No crush ever hit her quite as hard as Moana did, though. But Merida knows for a damn fact she isn’t into men--90% of the time she can’t stand them and their antics, and the only men she’s ever really felt any kind of affection for are ones in her family or ones who remind her of one or more of her family members. ~Moana makes Merida flower crowns. Merida grumbles endlessly about how “girly” they are, so Moana hunts down some black flowers to make one with so it’ll look a bit more badass and intimidating. Merida absolutely LOVES it and wears it everywhere. ~Merida teaches Moana how to horseback ride and how to shoot a bow and arrow. She’s pretty not great at either at first, but Merida is incredibly patient with her. This shocks everyone around them, because since when is Merida patient with anyone? ~Merida also teaches Moana swordplay, and they LOVE to spar with each other. Agressive flirting during sparring sessions is very commonplace. If anyone attacks either Dunbroch or Motunui, Merida and Moana are a force to be reckoned with. ~Likewise, Moana teaches Merida how to sail and some kinda basic naval combat skills (i.e. how to shoot that harpoon gun or whatever it was she used to fight the kikimora off). ~They don’t have sex that often because neither of them has that high of a sex drive, but when they do, Merida tops if a strap-on is used. ~Moana is the kind of person who just kinda sings songs to herself as she goes about her daily routine and her chores. Merida loves to listen in because she thinks Moana has the prettiest singing voice on earth. That doesn’t stop her from teasing Moana about “singing all the got dam time,” though. ~Literally ALWAYS cuddling and kissing when they’re watching something together or just doing any kinda idle activity at home together. These girls cannot keep their hands off of each other. They hold hands in public pretty much everywhere they go, and Merida yells at anyone who makes a fuss about it.

Modern AU ~They meet while Merida is studying abroad in Tahiti. Maybe because Maui (who’s Moana’s cousin or older brother or something) has a tattoo parlor, and of COURSE Merida goes in to get some edgy bow and arrow tattoo to piss her mom off. Or maybe Merida is just snorkeling in one of the coves on one of her days off, and she runs into Moana and they just Vibe. ~I also like the idea of them meeting at a bar/nightclub type place in Papeete--like maybe Maui owns the nightclub because he just likes to party like that, and he lets his little sis Moana poke around in there because he’s lowkey a terrible influence XD And maybe one night Moana’s bartending to make a little extra cash and Merida comes in and gets really drunk on like a huge Sex on the Beach or something and starts really clumsily hitting on Moana and Moana gets SUCH a kick out of it. Merida can’t remember much of the flirting the next day, but she and Moana still become fast friends. ~Merida is constantly ditching class to sneak off and go see Moana. Her grades are plummeting. ~When the semester abroad is over, they promise to keep in touch over the internet--although Moana also wants to write letters because she loves the idea of having a pen pal. Merida teases her mercilessly for being so “old-fashioned” but also doesn’t have the heart to say no. ~They end up confessing they like each other over internet chat. Merida damn well knows she’s gay and has for a while now, but she’s terrified of telling Moana she’s into her because she’s really scared Moana’s straight. So when Moana is the one who ends up confessing to Merida, Merida has literally never been happier in her entire life. ~Once Merida graduates, they decide to just say “fuck it” and move to some big seaside city together (for some reason I really like the idea of them living in Los Angeles???). Merida needs to get away from her overbearing mom and Moana just really wants to see more of the world besides the South Pacific, so away they go! ~BROADWAY MUSICAL NERDS BROADWAY MUSICAL NERDS BROADWAY MUSICAL NERDS! They both fucking LOVE musicals, especially those with sapphic undertones (Wicked, anyone?), and will loudly and obnoxiously sing along to the soundtracks, much to the chagrin of all their neighbors. They’re also pretty big theater fans in general--especially Merida, always rather the dramatic type. ~At some point they save up and go to see Wicked on Broadway together. The trip ends up being one of their all-time favorites, and their fridge is covered in goofy, dumb selfies of them in New York. ~Moana goes to every SINGLE one of Merida’s archery tournaments, and every single game of any other sport she plays. Literally no one cheers more boisterously or enthusiastically than Moana does. Whenever Merida hits a bullseye or scores a goal, Moana grins and nudges the people next to her (even if they’re complete fucking strangers) and goes “That’s my girlfriend!!!” ~Merida is a goddamn punk, and is always walking around in spiked jackets, combat boots, and basically any other clothing that says “don’t fuck with me.” She tried to start a punk rock band once, but it ended up falling through because no one would sponsor Merida’s angry screamo songs about smashing the patriarchy. Moana still went to all of their tiny-ass, tacky concerts though, for the few months they were “touring” the city. ~Merida taught herself how to play electric guitar because she thinks it’s Edgy and Cool. Moana really likes to dance, and knows a fair number of traditional Polynesian dances and has even taught a class or two. Merida learns how to play some traditional Polynesian music on the electric guitar so she can play while Moana dances. The combination of hard rock-esque shredding and a very mellow island dance looks extremely bizarre to anyone watching, but the girls absolutely do not care.

@takaraphoenix I said I’d tag you in Moanida content I made and I am a woman of my word!!! Enjoy!!!

Please y’all, send me more asks about my ships!!! I love to talk about them!!!