#hopefully there's stuff on this list you haven't read before!

[v3x-y0urs3lf]

Our life N&F Soft moments with Step 3 Tamarack and Qiu

For anyone wondering before they read, There's:

one (1) Tamarack headcanons

one (1) Tamarack (short) scenario

one (1) Qiu headcanons

one (1) Qiu (short) scenario

one (1) headcanon with BOTH Qiu and Tamarack

one (1) SHORT scenario with BOTH Qiu and Tamarack.

This is me trying to makeup for the fact I haven't posted in a while and I STILL don't have my boundaries/request list uploaded and ready yet (I SWEAR I ACCEPT REQUESTS.)

This is before step 3 has been published so I'm just going off my own headcanons and theories on the characters.

Also, Qiu uses They/Them in this post BECAUSE both them (and reader) are painting nails.

You should be able to read this as either platonic or romantic, I didn’t mention ‘dates’ or any genuine romance - So knock yourselves out while reading this.

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Braiding hair!!

Whether you're a friend or a lover, I think she'd allow those close with her to braid her hair or at least use her hair as an example when braiding it. No matter how hard you accidentally pull it or if you stuff up and end up having to do it again, she just chuckles and reminds you that patience is key and that 'slow and steady win the race'.

With Miss Tamarack Baumann, time almost stops. Whether you're deep in thought and trying to keep total concentration whilst braiding her orange strands of hair or if there's light chatter amongst the two of you, Tamarack doesn't mind. It's just like how her Omi always says, "Sometimes everyone needs 5 minutes."

Maybe you have long-ish hair too? Great! Tamarack (With your permission) will braid your hair after you finish with hers! She doesn't mind French Braids, Box braids, Dutch, Micro, Cornrow, She may need a bit of assistance to learn, but better late than never!

No matter how short your hair is or what texture your hair is, her fingers work her magic and it genuinely feels like a fairytale when Tamarack is able to produce some of the best braids you’ve ever SEEN.

Miss Tamarack is just so, so sweet and gentle about it all. The moment feels so tender, with her hands gently running through your hair, complete silence for a moment before she speaks in that soft and comforting tone you've practically memorized by this point.

"Ah, Sorry." You wince as you accidentally tug a little to harshly on Tamaracks hair, gently rubbing her scalp as to (hopefully) relieve some of the pain you may have accidentally caused. The only response you get is a soft chuckle being elicited from the girl in front of you. "Good lord, MC, I'm fine. You didn't pull that hard..." Tamarack smiled, barely looking over her shoulder to look at you as you unraveled her strands of hair and started again. The two of you had been at this for a bit now, about 15 minutes or so. You both had made plans to go to the knew crepe shop opened in town and offered to help Tamarack get ready.

Tamarack tilted her head slightly and made eye contact with you from the mirror at her vanity. "I'm not fragile, y'know?" Whilst Tamarack was soft, nurturing, soft-spoken, She was anything BUT fragile.

Tamarack Baumann? The same Tamarack Baumann who used to run around and hide in piles of leaves in the woods? The SAME Tamarack Baumann who didn't mind when batter or such got on her clothes when she was baking? The same Tamarack Baumann who would just say 'they're just clothes.' when doing arts and crafts? THAT Tamarack Baumann?

"I know." You could only whisper in a quiet tone as her soft eyes met yours. She gently turned around, taking your hands into hers with a sweet smile. She no longer had her braces from when she was 14, no longer had her overwhelming insecurities or big anxieties about the world. Tamarack was content and this was enough for her to be able to live her days without too much stress.

“I’m not made of glass. I don’t need you to treat me like I’m my Omi’s fine China.” Tamarack snickered. She couldn’t help but tease you over this. Tamarack was no longer the small child or young teen with terrible insecurities. She had grown into a fine young woman and was ready to live her own life.

Whether her relationship with you was romantic or platonic, she knew she’d want you to be with her every step of the way. After all, You were her first friend in Golden Grove, She’d hate for you to not be there until the end.

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Painting nails!!

I've just had this idea in my head for so long - Painting nails with each other.

Even if you aren't trans or don't follow Qiu's whole thing with 'Pronouns correspond with nail polish', Either you can paint their nails or they'll paint your nails- Or you can do your own nails while they do their nails. It's up to you!

For anyone who doesn’t have much experience with painting nails, Qiu might give you some tips or show an example or two, but after that? They’re just going to make you eye ball it. You may not have very good hand-eye coordination, You may have shaky hands or struggle to keep attention- That doesn’t matter to Qiu!

They might tease a bit, but if you’re truly bothered or embarrassed with it all then they’ll stop. Qiu just wants to spend some time with each other, a soft moment for the two of you to bond. They don’t want to lose you because of some insensitive comment.

If you really want as well, Qiu offers to paint your nails as well. (I’m pretty sure In-game Qiu always has black nail polish… but that’s okay.) They’ll let you choose the colour and they’ll begin with what looks like innate expertise.

Genuinely. Qiu looks like a BOSS with how focused they are for this entire moment.

“And the award for best nail-painter goes to…” Qiu starts, a smile on their face as you look up from their nails to see them. They had taken off their green coat, but left everything else on, their white jumper, navy pants, and had left their bag just beside them. “Not you.” Qiu ends with a Cheshire smirk.

You can’t help but groan and sigh softly at that, taking a break to let Qiu’s nails dry for a moment. You aren’t able to tell if you groaned because you were annoyed by Qiu’s comment.. or if you secretly knew that they were right. After barely a moment of looking down at their hands again, You easily could tell that they were right.

“I know.. I’m sorry.” You sigh again, putting the brush back into the nail polish and looking at the remnants of black nail polish on the edges of Qiu’s fingertips.

Always the observant one, Qiu looks at you and immediately notices your disappointment. The habits you made when you were upset or frustrated were crystal clear to them, even if anyone else couldn’t tell. “Hey, Hey. It’s alright. I was kidding.” They immediately backpedal, trying to avoid a total meltdown.

Qiu’s eyes scan the table for something they could do, looking at the bottle of nail polish again before taking the brush and painting one of your nails. Due to the quick reaction and lack of concentration, some of the polish got onto the edges of your skin as well.

By the looks of things, they hadn’t truly thought that through and just looked at you with a softer, genuine grin. “I’m not perfect either.. So let’s just be imperfect together, okay?”

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Having a picnic!!

After talking it over, the three of you had decided a picnic would be a great idea to spend your time before summer break ended and school started up again.

Tamarack had agreed to make some food, Qiu brought some drinks and a few games for you all to play, You just had to bring the blanket and pick a spot in the park.

Luckily for you all, the weather was great. The sun was shining, a few kids were playing around in the playground, there weren’t a few clouds in the sky but they just provided some nice shade, and it was surprisingly warm for an autumn’s day, not too cold but not scolding hot either. In Tamaracks words, ‘it’s just right.’

The day didn’t seem like it could get better by this point. Tamarack had made some delicious desserts in an adorable picnic basket and Qiu had brought some delicious tea and board games for you all to play. What could possibly go wrong?

You all had been sitting there, resting on the checkered picnic blanket you and your mom had in the closet for years now. She was glad the old thing was finally getting some use.

Tamarack had her braid you had been kind enough to help her do just a few hours ago, and Qiu still had the splotchy nail polish on their fingers you had helped with a few days ago.

The sun was shining, laughter and joy shared amongst the three of you, the food Tamarack had kindly decided to bake was absolutely delicious, Qiu’s tea being a perfect mix of sweet and bitter. It felt like nothin could go wrong in this situation.

.

..

…

Well, apparently the small clouds in the sky has deceived you all and decided at that very moment, the clouds had decided to rain down on the three of you and cause you all to practically sprint to the all-familiar restaurant, The Diner Table.

Yusuf had graciously let you three in, despite the fact you all were practically soaked from the rain. You were given a seat at the usual booth you all used to get throughout your childhoods of coming down here together either after school or after your after-school curriculums. Even after 8 years, The Diner Table still held that ‘comfortable’ feel you had gotten when you came in as a kid.

By now, most of the food had been rained on and the tea had metaphorically and literally been spilt before the three of you had arrived at the diner.

Tamarack and Qiu were sitting in the same row, all of you glancing at each other awkwardly to just silently communicate that that was all a total fail. Though, in reality, Tamarack was the one to speak up first.

“So… Uh, good thing we’re warm now, right?” Tamarack smiled optimistically, trying to find a ‘bright side’ to look at here.

“Sure, yeah. Getting rained on, food ruined and drink gone— Oh, but at least we’re warm!” Qiu said sarcastically, it had meant to be a joke to lighten the mood.. but it seemed to have just been a bit too soon for the three of you to joke about.

Was there really a bright side to look at here? The entire day felt ruined now just because no one managed to check the weather forecast! Nothing could possibly fix this situation—

“Could I get anything started for you three?” Yusuf’s calming and gentle voice cut through the jelly-thick atmosphere, causing you all to jump slightly at the suddenness.

You all shared a glance before coming to a collective realisation. It was never about having a ‘perfect picnic’— It wasn’t about having a picnic in general! You three had just wanted to have a good time with each other, and what better place for familiarity and fun times than The Diner Table?

With a collective smile and a silent nod, you three agreed this was no better place to have a good time. You turned to Yusuf, ready to order a meal and some food. The board games were just a little damp, but they were still playable if you all were gentle enough.

Maybe this wasn’t the picnic you three had in mind.

Maybe you were all a bit silly to not check the weather forecast before going out.

.. Or maybe you were all just destined to inevitably end up in the all-familiar diner one more time.

[darlingshane]

Something Crazy

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: On Natalie's wedding day, life takes an unexpected turn when you learn that your former crush, Michael, might be interested in you.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, P in V, Vanilla, Alcohol, Eating, Fluff, Crack, Pet Names, Kissing, Dancing.

Word Count: 4,6k

— You can read below or at AO3.

Today is the big day for your best friend Natalie. She's marrying her long-time boyfriend, Pete, and you've come back to Chicago for only two days to celebrate this lifetime milestone with them.

They've picked a perfect Saturday in the middle of spring to celebrate their union. Flowers are in full bloom, gardens are lush green, wind has calmed, welcoming a balmy weather to allow having a wedding ceremony outdoors.

Bright Sun rays slip like gold ribbons through the sheer fabric of the curtains as you carefully hang Natalie's gown and remove the garment bag. It's a simple but stunning empire dress, strapless, with lace and pearls adorning the corset. Though you've never fantasized about your own wedding before, as your hand slides softly along the skirt, you can't help but imagine yourself as a giddy bride, wearing that same dress.

Tying the knot is not on top of your list right now. Settling with someone? That's more likely to happen. But there's nothing like being chosen as the maid of honor, especially if you're single, to find yourself trapped in that Disney daydream of getting to meet your prince charming and live happily ever after. Hopefully, that unwelcome, sudden longing will vanish after a few drinks at the reception. Until then, your top priority is making sure your best friend's special day is as magical as she planned.

You're in the designated dressing room of the hotel with the rest of the bride's party laughing, sipping rosé, telling stories while the beautician works against the clock, getting all four of you primped and ready.

While you help Natalie get into her dress, Gigi comes back with a tray of pastries to soak the alcohol before anyone gets too drunk.

“You guys gotta see Mikey. He's so fucking hot I could die. I've never seen him all dressed up and clean like that,” she announces loudly, going around the room like a whirling handing croissants and muffins. “I swear to god his pants are so tight, it’s like looking into an x-ray photograph… you can see everything. And I mean everything,” Gigi stares at you, raising an eyebrow, while you stuff part of a croissant into your mouth.

“Ew, that's my brother,” Natalie frowns in disgust.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you say after swallowing part of your pastry.

“She's looking at you like that because, as we all recall, it was you who had a crush on him for the longest time,” the bride sharply indicates.

“She's got a point, babe.”

“I was like fifteen,” your tone pitches a little higher, as if you were still that age. “Why do you always have to bring that up?”

“Cause let's be honest, you were hung up on him for way longer than you said, and your face still lights up every time you see him. Why can't you just admit you're still love-struck?”

You open your mouth to counter her accusation, but words refuse to come out. You can't even lie for dear life cause admittedly, as fucking annoying as they are, they're also right. Michael was one of those crushes that was hard to shake off. Your friends quickly jumped from one infatuation to another, but you pinned for Sugar's cooler, slightly older brother for longer than you should have. And that's probably the reason every time all your friends get together, they use that embarrassing piece of information to tease you. Even if you ever wanted to forget, they'll never let you.

The last time you saw Michael in person was a few weeks ago for only a few minutes when you came to help Natalie with the last details of the wedding and barely exchanged a couple of words. You moved to Detroit for work three years ago, and the few times you've come back here, you haven't crossed paths with him that often. The soon-to-be married couple also forgo the rehearsal dinner altogether to save money, so you didn't get a chance to see him before the ceremony.

“All I'm saying is if you wanna take a stab at that, this is the perfect time. He's single, he has great hair, he's wearing a dope suit, and did I mention hot?” Gigi keeps cajoling. “Hell, I'll hit that, If you don't. So better act fast.”

“He always had great hair,” Samira agrees, downing the rest of her wine.

“And he asked about you the other day when I showed him the pics of our trip,” Sugar adds.

“Oh,” you try not to sound too pleased, cause you doubt he ever paid any attention to you. Why would he start now?

“Yeah, he was definitely checking you out, and loved that video of you at the karaoke bar,” Samira chimes in as she pours another glass.

“Okay, you're making that up. No more wine for you, missy,” you promptly snatch the bottle from your friend and put it away while they all laugh. “Wait… he saw the video of me singing?”

“Uh-hm.”

You file that information for later and once you are all dressed up, you hand Natalie a stunning bouquet of roses before leaving the room.

“Thanks,” she grabs your arm for a second as Gigi and Samira head out. “Sorry for making fun of you… again. You know we love you and that we just want the best for you.”

“I know,” you mumble timidly.

“Sweetie, you don't need my permission, but if you wanted to ask Michael out, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He'd be lucky to have someone like you.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because… You've always been like a sister to me, and part of me wanted him to see how amazing you are, so I kept telling him about you. I showed him photos and videos, hoping that he would. And he did! He really loved that one of you vibing to TLC. Thought you were funny.”

“You told him, didn't you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“I'd stab you if you weren't about to get married,” your serious tone makes her snort.

“Look, you’re not dating anyone. He’s not dating anyone… I could ask him if he's interested before Gigi swipes him up.”

“Nat,” you sigh into a heavy pause, looking into her clear blue eyes. “We’re not in school anymore, you don’t have to play matchmaker. And it's your day! The last thing on my mind is hooking up with someone. Let alone your brother. So drop it.”

“Just saying. It could really be a wedding present for me if you two were to…” you scowl at her, which makes her leave that thought unfinished.

“Okay, that's gross, let’s get you married, so I can kill you right after.”

“Alright, alright. I promise I won’t mention it again.”

In your lavender dress and matching heels, you wait for your cue as the wedding starts. The quartet starts playing. Once the officiant and the groom are in position, groomsmen, and bridesmaids walk down the aisle in pairs. You line up with the bridesmaids by the floral arch on the side of the bride in the lush garden and watch as Natalie walks down the aisle, escorted by both brothers, Carmen and Michael.

She looks radiant, but your stare darts slightly to your former crush. He’s dressed in a dark suit and royal blue shirt, no tie. His fluffy hair pushed back, shining under the sun like black licorice. His features are sharply defined as usual, but there's definitely a certain glow around him that makes him look more handsome than you remember.

Credit where credit's due, Gigi was right. They all were. He still manages to stir those intense feelings and butterflies in your stomach that you thought gone when your eyes meet for a split second as they get closer to the altar. There's also a glimpse of a smile in his lips, directed at you. Or so it looks like. Maybe you're making it up in the chaotic mess that is your mind.

Carmy and Michael kiss either side of Natalie's face when they reach the altar, and then they take their seats on the first row as she stands face to face with Pete.

The quartet stops playing, the officiant starts speaking, and you aim your focus to the ceremony.

Once Natalie and Pete are pronounced husband and wife, there's a time dedicated to take a few pictures of the wedding party in that very same garden before losing the natural light.

Despite promising she was going to let it go, your now-married friend insists on making sure you and Michael end up in several pictures together.

“Mmm… Marcus, is it?” you shake hands with him, pretending to have forgotten his name.

“Michael,” his grip is firm around your hand.

“Oh, sorry, Mario. I have a terrible memory.”

“Don't be cute. I know you remember,” he scoffs, amused, linking one arm around your waist per the photographer's instructions.

You swallow, nervously placing your hand on his firm back, trying to keep your cool. As the photographer takes a series of snapshots, Michael starts humming a familiar song. No scrubs. The one you sang in that famous video your friends filmed.

You press your lips together, and pretend you're not hearing it. It seems like they've all been scheming together against you, or in your favor. You're not sure. You know Sugar wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, but this is getting ridiculous.

“Save me a dance later, would you?” he requests with a wink once the photoshoot session is over.

“I can't, Mitchell. I've already promised that to one of the groomsmen,” lie.

“You're gonna keep that bit the rest of the day?”

You shrug your shoulders, “it's not up to me, Marley.”

“Alright, come find me when you grow up.”

He presses his lips in a tight smile and walks away, leaving you dwelling in that awkwardness that washes over you, and wondering if he's messing with you or if he's suddenly into you. Those are good questions that you can't leave unanswered. If there's a chance that Michael Berzatto likes you, and that's a big IF, you really need to find out. The ball is in your court now. The question is… Do you want to throw it back?

The party moves to the banquet room in the hotel. There's plenty of food, drinks, music, and people in the room, but none of it can't distract you from the presence of Michael. This isn't how you expected to spend the day of your friend's wedding. And it's really going to bother you if you don't at least try to have a nice conversation with him. This is probably your last chance, so right after your heartfelt toast, you wipe your tears, throw back some liquid courage to walk up to his table.

He's nursing a glass of scotch, watching people on the dance floor, when you quietly take the empty chair besides him.

“No Richie today?” you break the ice.

“Oh, you remember his name but not mine?”

“Get over yourself, Michael. You know, I always got a little awkward when I was nervous. And unfortunately, it still happens.”

“Think you're doing pretty good right now.”

“Had a little help,” you tilt your glass in his direction.

“Well, I'm glad you decided to join me,” he nods and points at the bar where Richie is conversing animatedly with your friend Gigi. “I had to convince Sugar to invite him. Hope he behaves for my sake.”

“Oh no, you're a dead man. Nothing good is gonna come out of that.”

“How so?”

“They're both insane, divorced and desperate. That's a dangerous cocktail nobody wants to drink,” you point out.

“Yeah, you're right. I guess I didn't really think it through.”

“You're screwed, Berzatto,” you take a sip of your glass and turn your eyes from the bar to Michael. “You know I was just joshing earlier, right? It surprised me that you were so… Direct.”

“Men aren't usually direct with you?”

“No, I guess I haven’t been very lucky in that department… Or maybe I’m just a bitch with unreachable standards that scares away any potential suitors.”

“That would explain a lot.”

“Gee, thanks!”

“I’m kidding. I’m sure your standards are reasonable. And I don’t think you’re a bitch if that helps.”

“Yet you’re wondering why I came here alone?”

“Not really. I didn't bring a date, either.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“I dunno. Maybe I have really high standards, too,” he winks casually at you, knocking you out of your game.

You should have come prepared for this, but you never thought in a million years that Michael Berzatto would ever show any interest in you.

Still trying to figure out if you're picking up the right signals from him, you prop your elbows on the table and let out a sigh as he presses the rim of his glass to his mouth to take a swig.

You bite your lip and watch the guests swaying animatedly on the dance floor.

“So. Do you wanna dance?” he softly taps one of your arms.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Did your sister put you up to this?”

“Why would she?”

“Don't play dumb. I used to have the biggest crush on you, and if you didn't notice, I'm sure your Sugar has told you.”

His lips draw a lopsided smile. “She might have mentioned something a while ago, but she didn't put me up to this, I swear. This is all me. I only asked you for a dance. I didn't ask you to marry me.”

“I suppose a dance wouldn’t be that bad.”

“I'll take that,” he throws back the rest of his drink in one gulp, stands up, offering his hand up to you, “shall we?”

You were hoping to have some more time to prepare, but his sharp conviction is something you can’t reject. That’s part of Michael Berzatto’s appeal. He’s always been such a bold and outgoing guy, it's daunting. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed at all. The only thing that’s different is that now he’s wasting his charms on you.

With some apprehension, you follow his steps into the dance floor. There’s a mid-tempo song playing that you don’t recognize that makes you forget altogether how to move your body. So you just stand there, three feet away from him, like a deer caught in headlights, bobbing your head, avoiding his eyes.

Michael stares at you, slightly entertained by how uncomfortable you look right now, and throws you a lifeline by stepping closer, picking up your hands and placing them on his shoulders.

“What are you so afraid of, sweetheart?” he asks, planting his palms on your waist, guiding you slowly to move with him.

“I'm afraid that I'm not a very good dancer.”

“I doubt that.”

“Wait till I step on you,” you subconsciously look down at your feet.

“Follow my lead. You'll be fine.”

“Okay, Johnny Castle, but don't make me mambo, salsa, waltz… Or anything that requires taking my feet off the ground.”

“Who the hell is Johnny Castle?”

“Patrick Swayze? Dirty Dancing?” you question, as if it was the most outrageous thing that he hadn’t heard about that film.

“I’m more of a Road House kinda guy.” Of course, he is. “Was that another crush of yours?”

“Oh, big time!”

“Ok, got it, nothing fancy, we're just swaying. See?” His hands guide your body to move side to side, but it's impossible not to feel a little clumsy in your steps.

“Hey, what do you think of Pete?” He asks, using his head to point at the newly-weds.

“Uhh,” you glance to the side to see Pete wrapping an arm around Natalie, “he can be a total douche sometimes, but he's always sweet to her. I guess that's what matters. Why? What do you think about him?”

“Words out of my mouth.”

“Michael?” You glance up to his deep dark eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Be honest, why did you want to dance with me?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Your lips pull up on the sides as your head nods.

“Cause I wanted to dance with the prettiest girl I've ever met.”

If this is a dream, you don't wanna wake up to find out that this was just a concoction of your mind. It's not. It feels real. If you weren't holding onto him, you'd fall to your knees after hearing his words roll past his beautiful lips.

There are so many questions you wanna ask, but you can only sigh, and smile wider under the sweet glow of his brown eyes fixed on you.

“You really think that I’m that pretty or interesting?” your mouth opens after a pregnant pause, at the same time the song switches to something incredibly romantic.

“I've always thought that. It just took me a while to realize it.”

“God, you have the perfect answer to everything. That's really annoying.”

“I don't. I swear. You just caught me in a good mood.”

“I don't remember you ever being in a bad mood.”

“I have my moments. Trust me.”

He unexpectedly picks one of your hands from his shoulder, lifts it in the air to have you spinning ungracefully under his elbow before quickly wrapping his opposite arm around your waist to dip you. He grins at the shocked expression on your face for a second before bringing your body upright.

“Please, don't do that again,” you brace your hands to his chest right after.

“Why? That was perfect, sweetheart,” he laughs, “Johnny Castle would be proud.”

Your lips curl softly, letting your palms tentatively slide on his blazer until they're caught on the warm surface of his neck.

“Am I making you nervous?” he dares to ask, knowing pretty much that he's driving you crazy.

“A little,” a lot, actually.

He whispers, – sorry – as you run your fingers at the hair at his nape. You observe up close how he licks his lips, noticing his hands clutching harder to your waist. His head leans closer, and you draw a breath, preparing yourself for having his lips colliding against yours. It feels like the world stops spinning for a second and just about when he's about to kiss you something, someone in this case, crashes against your back making you lose your balance. Michael anchors you to the floor quickly before you can fall, as a slurred-drunk voice apologizes at your back.

“Fucking idiot,” Michael mutters and checks on you, “you okay, sweetheart?”

You're not. The spell is broken, and your dress suddenly feels cold and wet from the drink that was spilled along your hip.

You excuse yourself, and rush out of the dance floor, so you can clean yourself up.

There’s a big surprise in the nearest bathroom you find, and that is your friend Gigi making out with Richie with such passion, they don't even notice you opening and quickly closing the door.

The tiny glimpse that you caught of Richie propping your friend on the sink and sliding his hands under her skirt makes your jaw almost fall to the floor. You wish you could erase that from your memory immediately, but at least it has made you forget momentarily about your dress.

When you turn around, you’re faced with Michael again. You ran out so fast you didn’t notice him following behind.

“What’s wrong?”

“Richie and Gigi,” smacking your lips, you point with your thumb to the door with no further explanation.

“Wow, they didn’t waste any time.”

“That's the thing about weddings. They make people do crazy things.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael looks down for a beat, licks his lips, and steps closer.

He holds your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up. As he leans to capture your mouth, you flinch, “what are you doing?”

“Something crazy,” the corners of his mouth quirk up, making another move, and you jerk your face a second time in reflex. It’s not that you don't wanna kiss him, you absolutely do. You just need another moment to process it.

“Damn, girl. Can you just stay still, so I can kiss you already?” He demands without an ounce of entitlement. Just driven by the desire to taste your lips.

“Alright, okay… just give me a second,” you yield to his craving, letting him slowly guide you, so your back is pressed against the wall.

There’s no escape now, this is the moment you’ve dreamed with many moons ago that seemed like a pipe dream back then. All those thoughts vanish the moment his lips are pressed against yours firmly, before letting them bounce a couple of times together. His alcohol-tainted breath mixes with yours as his lips part wider. He captures your lower lip with a light suck, followed by the tip of his tongue shamelessly drawing the curve of your mouth. It's deliciously sexy and sweet and everything in between. You close your eyes and follow his lead, opening your mouth and letting him slot his lips against yours. His tongue invades past your teeth without resistance. It challenges you to kiss him back. It takes you a moment to respond, but soon enough, you're fully immersed in the depth of his mouth, taking the reins of the kiss.

You haven't been kissed like this in a while. Maybe ever.

When your mouths separate, you realize your hands are anchored to his back, and he's fully pressed against you. His lips are covered in your saliva and vice versa.

“I'm going to change my dress,” you sigh, giving him a little push, so you can put yourself together.

“Oh… Okay,” there's a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You clear your throat and harness an ounce of confidence to ask, “do you wanna come? I might need some help. The zipper is a little tricky in this thing.”

Right.

His expression turns on a dime, eyes wide open, white edge teeth showing behind his slightly parted lips. Speechless by the implication of your proposal, he cleans his lips on his palm before responding, “I… sure.”

Proud of yourself for taking a gamble and hitting the jackpot, you go back inside the banquet hall first to collect your purse from the table and then head up to the elevators with him following closely behind.

A palm lands at the small of your back while you press the button. The anticipation makes your stomach flutter wilder than ever. Who would have thought you'd be taking Michael to your room on this day? It feels surreal. Absolutely bananas.

You don't say a word during the elevator ride up to the fourth floor.

When you reach your door, you notice his palms framing your hips from behind. His touch makes your pulse tremble while using the key card. It takes you a couple of tries to open the door.

There's a strange force, an electricity buzzing, that grows more powerful the second you're inside.

You hit the light switch, drop your purse on the chair and turn to face him.

Following that unstoppable whim, you place your palms on his chest and push back his blazer. He shrugs it off as you move to undo the few buttons he's fastened. Your fingers tremor anxiously as you uncover his defined torso. You want to stick out your tongue and trace those two lines forming a V oh his abdomen that leads to the outline of his cock behind the tight fabric of his dress slacks. It’s too bold of a move for you right now, so you let your fingers do your bidding.

When your hands reach his belt, they proceed to unbuckle it under the lust-filled shadow of that flame of his gaze that could scorch the surface of the earth if he wanted to in a second.

He’s already half hard when you unzip his fly, and that's as far as he allows you to go. Michael's dying to touch you, to undress you and fuck you. He quickly turns you around, making you gasp, and finds the zipper of your dress. Your skin rises into goosebumps when he pulls the tab down. He nibbles at the crook of your neck, pushing the top of your dress down to your waist. You shimmy your legs out of it as his hands invite themselves to your skin.

His all hands and mouth around you as he removes your strapless bra and guides you to lay down on the bed.

The fire that lights up his eyes sears through yours as he slips out of his unbuttoned shirt. He then props a knee on the bed, hovering over you, and lowers his head to kiss your stomach. His tongue darts out and draws a circle around your navel. Your head falls back on the mattress, as he leaves a trail of wet kisses up your torso. He nibbles once more at your neck, increasing your arousal up to eleven.

“Michael, please,” you groan as he presses himself between your legs, grinding slowly behind layers of fabric, coaxing your juices to stain your underwear and growing himself a hard-rock erection that can barely be held by his boxers.

Lifting lifts his head, he props himself on his elbows, and surveys the tortured expression on your face as his hips keep relentlessly moving.

“Fuck, you're goddamn gorgeous, baby,” he exhales, proceeding to swiftly rid you off your panties, and pushing his pants and underwear down.

He drives his hardness inside you with great care, pushing inch after inch of that monumental erection that stretches your slicked walls. You close your eyes as he experiments with his thrusting, molding your opening to its generous size.

“Is this how you imagined this?” he pants against the corner of your mouth.

“No. This is better… Much, much better,” you purr, palming his ass, encouraging him to move faster.

If you had a free hand, you'd pinch yourself to check if this is really happening right now. It still blows your mind thinking that Michael Berzatto is deeply buried inside you, wanting you, claiming every cell of your body for his enjoyment. You gladly surrender to his desires as the cadence of his hips drive you into madness. As much as you try to contain your moans, he does everything in his hand to force every moan, curse, and breath to fly out past your teeth.

He slams into you with passion, bites your skin, grips your tits, devours your mouth, setting every inch ablaze. It’s as mind-blowing as it is fast, but he earns himself a good squeeze of your walls when he brings you to orgasm. He comes undone just merely a second after, releasing a wild grunt that ripples all over your skin, and pouring all his warm seed into the depths of your pussy, having his hips jerking erratically until he’s spilled every drop.

His cum sticks to your walls as he rolls to the side of the mattress with a grunt. Your head is spinning out of its usual axis, overtaken by that powerful boost of endorphins, and your lungs struggle for a deep breath.

For a long minute, you both stare at the ceiling while you regain your breath.

When he composes himself, he turns to the side to look at you, sweetly letting one of his fingers brush your cheek, “do you wanna do this again tomorrow?”

“Can't. I'm leaving, remember?”

“Right.”

“But you can stay the night if you want. And repeat later. And maybe one more time even later. Would you like that?”

“I'd love to, sweetheart.”

[tenpintsofsundrop]

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

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

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

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

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Full list of warnings and author's notes below.

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

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

...

You thought it would be an easy day. 

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

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

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rings?” She questioned. 

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained. 

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

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

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror. 

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

You nodded at this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were just playing the part. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented. 

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

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

“Has it been a godly union?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which ‘one’? 

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie. 

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer didn’t take the bait. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t hold yourself back then. 

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

He would protect you because you belonged to him. 

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

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

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

“Thank you.” You said quietly. 

It was twofold:

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes sharply at this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus. 

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

“Of course.” Reid confirmed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, we do.” He nodded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him. 

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

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

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

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

“Come on.” Christopher grunted. 

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

… 

Your plan worked flawlessly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the church. 

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

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

“L/N!” 

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

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

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

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

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

im a trans boy who has grown up with very oppressive religious parents so ive never gotten the chance to experiment sexually or romantically with peers irl, im about to move to the city for college in the fall

(i will be living on campus with two roommates who i haven't met yet and i know basically nothing about, one of them i will be sharing a bunk bed with)

im really nervous about how im gonna do socially.. ive had a really hard time making and maintaining irl friends for like my entire life, which has been really upsetting for me obviously.

being able to experiment sexually is something im really wanting to do and im really really nervous about it, i know that the most straightforward advice is just "talk about it to people you wanna do sex stuff with" but like everything is new to me i havent had the chance to really socialize irl up until this point and now im being shoved into a group of other young adults who all have the prior experience of being well socialized and having complex interpersonal relationships with peers

i also feel extremely insecure about my lack of experience, like is it actually normal for someone my age to have never had a romantic or sexual encounter? are the things ive discovered and assumptions ive made about myself sexually through masturbating wrong?? i can't watch porn bc looking at strangers having sex grosses me out!! im pretty sure my front hole is like unnaturally tight?? anything wider than two of my fingers is uncomfortable and no matter how much prep and easing myself into it i do, it stays that way.. and i think my cervix is also lower than most, about 3-4 inches is the maximum that i can insert before i can feel it bump my cervix (which hurts REALLY BAD)

im just so nervous and scared about my own body and personality and all that andi don't know where to look for resources or reassurance. ive never been to the doctor for any kind of reproductive care and im really scared to!!! i live in a state that has completely outlawed abortion rights and im really scared that if i go to planned parenthood or something to get like a checkup that they will be mean and not gentle with me

i don't know, i guess im just looking to be heard and hopefully pointed towards some resources if anyone has any, thank you for the work you do and thank you for taking the time to read my panicked ramblings

hi anon,

there's a lot happening here so I'm just doing a numbered list

1.) man, how did the third guy luck out and avoid the bunk bed? you don't have to answer that, I'm just curious how you guys have already worked out that two of you are stuck with the bunk beds. unless you're into bunk beds (I was), in which case mazel tov.

2.) in the nicest way possible, I think you may be vastly overestimating how "well socialized" other students are going to be. reading between the lines a bit, it sounds like you were maybe home schooled, or at least don't have very much experience mingling with other people your age without adult supervision. I guarantee you every public school in the world is also full of introverted freak losers who rock up to college with no idea of what they're doing; I was one of them. the majority of first year college students are also running around panicking and trying to figure out how to be away from their parents for the first time; everyone is a loser and no one is cool.

would it comfort you at all to know that my day job is organizing events at my office's LGBT student resource center? I spend a lot of time hanging out with queer first year students, and I love them dearly, and they're all cringefail losers. it's unavoidable. every 18 year old is a cringefail loser. every single person on Earth looks back at their 18 year old self and goes "goddamn, what a cringefail loser." and it's fine! it's so normal! that's the entire point of your first year of college! you try things and you're socially awkward and you meet some of the most important people you will ever meet and you meet people whose opinions about you won't matter literally at all and you'll completely change how you think about everything for the rest of your life and you'll think you're going to die and everything will be fine!!!!

anyway moving on

3.) it's normal for anyone at any age to have never had a romantic or sexual encounter. I'm assuming you value my insight at least a little, since you sent this, so would it help you to know that I arrived at college as virginal as could be (wildly insecure about it, btw) and didn't have sex for the first time until I was almost 21? would it comfort you to hear from my housemate, also transmasculine, who gave me permission to share that they've never had sex and that none of their life problems really have anything to do with being a virgin?

4.) "are the things ive discovered and assumptions ive made about myself sexually through masturbating wrong??" hard to say, since I don't know what those things are, but probably not. it's extremely hard to get masturbating wrong, no one knows what feels good to you better than you. you're sort of an authority here. masturbating isn't exactly like partnered sex, of course, but it's a really good place to start learning about things that you like and make you feel good.

5.) everything you're describing about your front hole sounds very typical. two fingers is the max number of comfortable fingers for a lot of people, regardless of experience; often, taking something larger doesn't become easier until after having penetrative sex with a partner. average vaginal depth is about 3.6 inches, and while that can increase significantly with arousal, it's something that doesn't generally happen if you're not relaxed during sex. if I can be a bit presumptuous, it sounds like sex and masturbation are maybe a bit anxiety-inducing for you, in a way that is pretty much perfectly contradictory to comfortable penetration. if I can offer you some advice I wish I could give my younger self: calm the fuck down, buy some lube, stop worrying so much about making your body react the way you think it should and learn to appreciate what it's actually doing, and maybe see if your campus has some free therapy options available. anxiety meds probably wouldn't hurt this situation. also stop hitting your cervix if that hurts oh my god.

6.) Planned Parenthood is generally one of the best places to go if you're nervous; they're aggressively queer friendly and tend to be extremely accommodating of patients' needs. I personally do not care for penetration at all and have a difficult time with Pap smears, and every examiner I've ever had at PP has been an angel about letting me take breaks and swear my way through it. it ain't fun, but if you want to have an adventurous sex life you need to take care of the health of yourself and your prospective partners by getting STI tests and Pap smears.

you're so normal, calm down, I love you

[ros3ybabe]

Daily Check-in: May 5, 2024 🎀

I disappeared for a few days, I'm sorry! life got busy, I was working non stop and really bad nothing to post about other then work and sleep it felt like. But Sunday was a semi productive day despite having woken up at 1am and not gone to sleep until 10pm that following night. But, we have finals go study for so we persevere.

🩷 What I Accomplished:

did an actual hair oiling routine before I showered

used the Beauty of Joseon Red Bean Pore Cleansing Mask

did my morning journal and skincare

read 13 pages of Good Vibes Good Life

purchased a new book on my kindle app! (You are a Badadd at Making Money, I can't wait to read it. There's another I want to buy soon too)

washed all my towels and put them away

washed my laundry (haven't put it away)

made pasta

planned out my week

studied Spanish for 11 minutes (trying to build a daily habit right now, so consistency is key)

made a packing list for my work in Colorado this summer

had a date night with my boyfriend (we watched two movies over video call together <3)

💞 Good Things That Happened

rested and relaxed

took a 2 hour nap in the morning

had a really long, nice shower

had enough money to order more coffee creamer

my friend was able to book the same flight as me for our work in Colorado!

spent some good time with my boyfriend

talked to my dad on the phone for a bit

💗 Stuff For Monday

study Spanish 10 minutes minimum

read 10 pages minimum of a book

complete some re opened chemistry homework

study for chemistry final

prepare for psyc exam

take psyc exam at 1pm

work a ~7 hour shift

Sunday was good, Monday will hopefully be good as well. I'm feeling positive!

💕 Song of The Day: IVE - Holy Moly

IVE songs have been on rotation for me once again. I love their sound and their energy.

til next time lovelies 🩷

[groenendaelfic]

Hey,

haven't seen you around a lot lately. Just writing to check in. how is it going? Wish you a nice evening

it is going, thank you for asking!

Life has been very busy these past few months but is moving in a hopefully good and definitely exciting direction.

In this particular order (if memory serves correctly) I've:

decided to move halfway across the continent

marked the one year anniversary of the worst time of my life

had other people mark the one year anniversary of the worst time of my life with all that entails

quit my job (I'd been planning that for a while)

had my boss and hr offer to let me go instead and half my notice period to two months (aka 'give' me more money and facilitate my move, yay pity)

started looking for a place to live and organizing my move

found a new job in a slightly different corner of halfway across the continent (I start July 1st)

got my request for citizenship approved (epic timing guys)

found a place to live in an awesome area (I will be able to do all my errands on foot and my new job is only a short bike ride away)

told everyone I was leaving for sure

signed the paperwork to have my uncle in law take over the place here

had my cousin offer to move my stuff with his remodeled fire engine in exchange for gas and (bridge) tolls

did all the paperwork in the universe ever

started saying my goodbyes for now (I still have lots of family and friends etc here so I'll be back a lot)

had my cousin tell me he'd make a bro trip out of the move because his friends really wanted to see a basic bridge, and room and board plus no girls was all the compensation they needed for getting to carry my boxes

said thanks but no thanks to citizenship (sorry Wille, you'll always be my King)

was asked if I minded the move taking a bit longer because the guys wanted to stop for totally unplanned soccer (a not insignificant part of their motivation if not a deciding factor I dare say)

did more move and job leaving planning and paperwork

welcomed, fed and watered a bunch of guys really into soccer bridges and very disappointed I didn't have more boxes they could compete carrying

prepared a big lunch basket and said goodbye to said guys and my boxes

sat down to write this list wondering where I should celebrate midsummer (aka do I want to travel back and forth to get everything ready or stay until it's time to hand in my work laptop etc)

Phew, yes. Also a million other things which won't come to mind right now. Thank you to everyone who left me such kind messages btw. I appreciate them so much but am still learning to respond to kindness and compliments without awkwardness. They nevertheless give me life.

In more interesting news to everyone here I've also done a lot of writing.

Mostly on One Wild Summer, which has already grown into a monster, but I've been writing the exciting parts later on and still guesstimate a 15k or so stretch which needs bridging to get to all the fun stuff I've already written.

but also on The Prince and the Barista and As Long as We Have Each Other. I only need to make it coherent and once again fill the gap to where I stopped posting.

plus *cue exasperated sighs* I'm also 9k+ into a new fic! The (once more) absolutely most self-indulgent thing I've ever written in this fandom and something I swore I never would turn into a proper fic. Expect the prologue for that (which was meant to be 500 words and not 5k) soonish.

Everything else including regular updates not before mid to late July though I think. Because moving and starting a new job and life means busy times and while I can write scribble down connected sentences with half a mind, I can't beta read and edit with half a mind.

tl;dr: I am still writing yr fic and haven't abandoned my fics, but am also busy moving. goodbye cloudberries and lingonberries, hello wineberries vineyards and appleberries apple orchards.

[biggerbearficrecs]

November 2024 Fic Recs

A list of what I've read/am reading this month. It's going to be a short one unfortunately because I haven't had much time but hopefully next month will be a little longer.

All recs underneath the cut:

Rough Around the Edges by @lila-lou (Jack Durfy x Reader)

Summary: Jack's day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Exhausted from a grueling shift under the scorching sun, he just wanted to crash at home with some wings and a football game. But his plans for a quiet night were shattered when the racket from his new neighbor echoed through the walls.

Teaser:

Jack groaned in annoyance, rubbing a hand across his face. Just great. As if the week hadn’t been exhausting enough, now he had to imagine his weekend being a noisy mess thanks to whoever was moving in. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. Instead, it seemed like his weekend would be filled with endless bangs and thuds coming from across the hall.

Another loud thud echoed through the hallway, followed by a soft “Ouchy” that made him roll his eyes. He could already picture some clueless person fumbling around with boxes, knocking stuff over, and generally making a racket. The kind of person who probably had no idea how to move without turning it into a circus.

Jack shifted the bucket of wings under his arm, debating whether or not to knock on the door. Part of him wanted to just ignore it, retreat into his apartment, and hope for the best. But the other part, the more frustrated part, was tempted to knock and tell them to keep it down. He’d had a long week, and he deserved a break, damn it.

Finally, he took a deep breath and approached the door, raising his fist to knock.

Just then, the door swung open unexpectedly, and there you were, looking frazzled and clearly unprepared for company. You were wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts and a tank top, your skin glistening slightly from the heat. Your hair, a messy bun on top of your head, looked like it had been thrown together in a hurry, and you had no makeup on, not that you needed it.

Jack blinked, momentarily caught off guard, staring at the younger woman standing in front of him.

You, on the other hand, were equally surprised to see the man standing in front of you. He had to be at least double your age, but damn, he was handsome—broad-shouldered, his shirt sticking to his body in places from what looked like a long day of work, and those tired, slightly irritated eyes that made him seem like someone who didn’t put up with much nonsense.

“Uh… hi”, you blurted, your voice a little breathless from all the moving. You glanced down at the two boxes sitting in front of your door, which you had come out to grab. “Sorry about the noise. I swear, I’m almost done”.

Jack let out a deep breath. “Yeah, I was kind of wondering if you were trying to tear the place down before you even moved in”.

You laughed, a soft, self-conscious sound, running a hand over your face. “Feels like it. I’m not exactly an expert at this moving thing. Been here all day, and I’m pretty sure I’ve destroyed more stuff than I’ve unpacked”.

Jack’s eyes flicked over you, taking in the sight of your casual shorts and tank top, the slight sheen of sweat on your skin. His gaze wasn’t lewd, but it was unmistakably assessing, like he was trying to figure you out.

Get Stuffed by @zepskies (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

Teaser:

“Aw, hell yeah,” Dean mutters. He rubs his hands together and surveys the immovable feast that’s about to get shoveled into his mouth.

This Christmas marks roughly your first year living with the brothers Winchester in the bunker, and a few months after your first anniversary with Dean.

He’s made it very clear that he enjoys your cooking, especially of Cuban food. So you’ve gone all out for Christmas: white rice and your grandmother’s recipe for black beans, boiled yuca with plenty of garlic, bread drizzled with more garlic and olive oil, and Dean’s favorite…

“What’s this part of the pig called again?” he asks. And he uses a large fork to spear into the mountain of roasted meat that you’ve already cut and piled onto a platter.

You come in from the kitchen with the bread in hand, placing it on the dinner table. You sidle up behind him, where he’s seated.

“The shoulder,” you say, squeezing both of Dean’s. He hums in interest as you press a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s called pernil. Marinated with garlic, mojo, bunch of good stuff.”

He predictably steals a juicy piece of meat, plopping it into his mouth. He grins while he chews and makes a happy sound.

“Ohoho, yeah.”

You share an amused look with Sam, who sits beside his brother. By the time you’ve found your seat on Dean’s other side, he’s already serving you and Sam the same hefty portions he serves himself.

You know for a fact you’re only going to eat about half of your plate. Sam manages to polish his off. Dean does as well…and serves himself twice more before you break out the dessert.

“Please tell me that’s a flan,” Dean says, drumming his fingers on the table.

“How the hell are you still hungry?” Sam asks.

The look on his face says he’s half entertained, half disgusted. Dean is still sucking on the crispy skin on a piece of pork. He licks the juices off his fingers.

“Have I taught you nothing?” he says. “There’s always room for dessert.”

He tosses you a wink, followed closely by a suggestive smirk.

Spicy Things by @homicidal-slvt (Russell Shaw x Reader)

Summary: Russell likes your spicy attitude.

Teaser:

You're watching this man drizzle sriracha all over his fries like some sort of hot sauce goblin. Why in the hell did you agree to go out with him? You'll never know.... Somehow that goofy smile of his charmed you into it.

"Russ.... Do you always eat like this?"

"Possibly."

With an exaggerated eye roll you take another bite of your burger.

"What can I say... I like things a little spicy."

With a wink thrown your way - you nearly choke. That was cheesy. Awful. Stupid... God damn it, you've got it bad.

Under the Montana Skies by @spnbaby-67 (Beau Arlen x Reader)

Teaser:

The air was crisp and filled with the scent of pine as you stood outside Beau Arlen's trailer in the heart of Montana. You and Beau had been friends for years, but lately, something had shifted between you two. The tension in the air was palpable, and tonight, under the starry Montana sky, it was finally time to address it.

Beau, with his rugged charm and flannel shirt, looked at you with those piercing green eyes. "You know, darlin', I've been wantin' to do this for a long time," he said, his voice a low drawl that sent shivers down your spine.

No One Will Notice by @deanwanddamons (Demon!Dean x Reader)

Summary: Y/N hopes that she sees the mysterious Dean again.

Teaser:

He had returned. 

You smirked as your gaze met the emerald green eyes you would never forget. 

Dean sauntered across the room towards you, his confidence oozing out of him in waves as he expertly navigated the patrons and tables that were in his way. He avoided them with ease, even though his intense stare never left your face. 

When he reached the edge of the raised platform you were performing on, he dropped down onto a bar stool, still not averting his eyes from yours as you stepped forward until your stilettos were directly in line with his broad shoulders. His arrogance was obvious for all to see when, without taking any notice of the fact numerous other men were vying for your attention by waving dollars at you, he reached into his pocket and produced a wad of cash, throwing it down onto the surface in front of him. 

“Go ahead. Pick it up,” he mouthed, popping the P.

A wide grin pulled at your lips as you crouched down before him, balancing precariously on your high heels, your inner thighs, and clothed mound level with his freckled face as one large hand wrapped around your hip, jerking you towards him which almost toppled you over. This action forced you to sit and scoot forward, your ass hitting the edge of the stage. Pushing his chair back, he tugged you down onto his lap, totally oblivious to or seemingly not caring about the ‘no touching’ rule the bar had in place, his calloused palm roaming over your hot skin. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Remember me?” He questioned. 

“How could I forget?” You whispered, your noses touching, lips only an inch apart.

Rightfully Deceived by @jessjad (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Teaser:

The man she was about to marry was Dean Winchester, Earl of the Winchester Clan. Rich, a lot of money to his name. Famous for his stubborn and unyielding business acumen. And devilishly good looking. Tall, broad shoulders, a voice as deep as the ocean and eyes as green as a sea of jades.

Yeah, Y/N has been in love with him since the first time she had seen him. But unfortunatly to her, he only seemed to have eyes for her younger sister, Helena.

The first time Dean visited her fathers castle, Y/N had welcomed him in and offered food and drinks. With a warm smile that made her heart flutter he accepted it. Her father appeared only minutes later and the men started a friendly conversation, resulting in Dean offering her father that he could always ask for help if needed. Since Dean had bought the land next to theirs it was the right thing to do. Not knowing then that five years later, her father would take him up on that offer.

Just when Dean was about to leave again, Helena had come in from the outside. Some hay in her hair and on her dress, indicating that she came fresh from the staples. And that was the moment Y/N saw it. The change in Dean's face. His eyes had widened a little, his mouth a little slack. Helena had smiled at him and all of a sudden he was lost for words.

That's when Y/N's heart sank to the ground. From then on it seemed as if she became invisible.

Stay by @bullet-prooflove (Colter Shaw x Reader)

Summary: Colter can never ask for you to stay.

Teaser:

It’s been three months since Colter last had his hands on you, since he made love to you in the Airstream, the sound of rain pattering on the roof. He remembers falling asleep tangled up in you, his fingers combing lightly through your hair, his heart thundering against yours.

He also remembers waking up alone, his hand smoothing over the vacant space as he sighed because he’d always been the one that left and he hadn’t realised just how bad that felt until it happened to him.

It’s over coffee that morning that he sits, watching the droplets cascade down the windows and thinks about why it’s different with you.

That's all I've been able to get through so far! Please forgive my graphics btw. Not so great with those but I wanted to put a little visual with each one.

I haven't figured out yet if I'm going to post at the beginning of each month or mid-month. I'm still trying to figure that all out, but please definitely follow this blog and set notifications for those postings if you would like to see each list when they post. All review reblogs of these works will also be posted here moving forward.

Oh, and before I forget...

Thank you!!! 💕💕

all dividers by @saradika-graphics

[mlmxreader]

Tell Me One Thing | Holland March x gn!reader

anonymous asked: hello hello i hope you’re doing as well as you can :) i was wondering if i could request some holland march x gn!reader with the prompts: “hey, hey, look at me c’mon” and “for what it’s worth, i’m proud of you”. where basically holland’s on a case and someone recognises him as the reader’s boyfriend but they have some very strong opinions about them being together and say kinda nasty things. he gets home before the reader and the latter finds him curled in upon himself like overthinking and stuff and comforts him. thank you! :)

summary: March has a habit of letting certain things get under his skin a bit too much, but thankfully, his partner comforts him when he needs it.

tws: swearing, alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of injury, mentions of alcoholism

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

It seemed like a normal enough day.

Healy was chatting to people in the busy street while Holland waited by the car and smoked; they were just looking for some old lady's lost dog, but money was money, and private investigators like Healy and March couldn't afford to turn down a job.

Holland did think, though, that he might be able to escape to the nearest payphone and call you; Holly was at school - hopefully - by now, which meant that the chances were, you were at home for a little while before your shift started.

He debated it, and when he saw that Healy was still chatting, he made his mind up; his bandaged fingers thumbled with the numbers, but he got there in the end and lit another cigarette.

But as it was ringing, someone knocked on the booth. Figuring that they probably just wanted to use it, he opened the door, and clenched his jaw.

"Can't you fucking see it's in use?"

The stranger looked him up and down for a moment. "Aren't you dating the person that used to live on Foxtrot Street?"

Holland quirked a brow. "Y/N?"

"Yeah," they nodded. "You're the new boyfriend, right?"

Holland shrugged as he scoffed. "The fuck do you wanna know for? Go on, get lost, pal."

The stranger didn't budge, folding their arms across their chest. "Y'know, I think it's absolutely sickening. A nice person like that, with scum like you - it's a surprise they haven't crawled into the bottom of a bottle, as well."

He rolled his eyes, attempting to close the door on them, but they put their hand on the frame. "Just fucking let me make a call."

"Please," they huffed. "Leave them alone. They deserve better than some P.I who drinks too much to even care about his own kid. You're gonna fuck them over, just like you fuck everybody else over. Leave them alone."

They only backed off once Healy approached, and although he wanted to talk about it, Holland couldn't find the energy to do so; he got in the car, hardly spoke but swigged from his flask like there was no tomorrow.

When Healy dropped him off, Holland had only one thing in mind: bed.

He flopped down onto the soft mattress, face buried against the pillows as he closed his eyes; maybe they were right. They did have a point, but he had been working on his drinking. But he was also useless - he fell off of several balconies that day, all on the ground floor at least unlike last time.

Maybe he would fuck you over. He didn't want to, but maybe he would. He spent what felt like eternity laid there, but eventually moved onto his side, cuddling into a pillow as he brought his knees to his chest, staring out at nothing.

He hoped Holly wouldn't be home any time soon, she didn't need to see her father worrying so badly about something that a stranger had said.

But Holly didn't come home first.

Holland knew it wasn't her when he heard the door lock from the inside, a muttering voice listing out all the chores to do throughout the house; familiar footprints slowly approaching along with the scent of his cologne, like the wearer had stolen one of his shirts.

He usually smiled, but not today. He just sighed and cuddled into the pillow even more.

"Hey, baby," you hummed, not thinking much at first as you shrugged your jacket off and hung it up on the corner of the wardrobe. Sweat trickling down your back and clinging to your forehead. "How was your day?"

Holland grumbled. "Why are you still here?"

You furrowed your brows as you turned around, shoving your hands into your pockets. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just gonna fuck you up," he sighed. "I fuck everything up and you… deserve better."

"Oh, Holland," you sighed, squatting down so that your eyes were on the same level as his. "Holland, Holland, Holland… you're not gonna fuck me up. I mean, you do give me really bad fright every time you go out, but that's because I know you - I know you're not exactly great with balconies."

Holland sighed.

But you wouldn't relent. "Hey, hey, look at me, c'mon… atta boy. Listen to me, baby - do you really think I'd leave?"

He shrugged. "You should."

"I'm not going to," you said softly. "No one, and I mean no one, has made me laugh as much as you can. You think I'd give all that up?"

"I make you laugh?"

"Yes," you leaned forward, gently kissing his forehead. "And that means everything to me, you know that… you wanna tell me what happened?"

"Someone approached me while we were working," he said quietly. "Said some pretty shitty things."

"And you let them get under your skin," you hummed, nodding. "Y'know, this is only like the window incident."

Usually, he smiled at the reminder.

When he had been playfully bickering with you at a party and he had thought that a window was shut, only to lean back and fall right through it, landing on a buffet table crowded by people.You laughed the entire way to the hospital, and he had never heard something so wonderful.

But he had allowed one of the doctors comments about you to get under his skin, just as he had now.

"Y'know, for what it's worth, I'm proud of you," you told him. "I really am."

Slowly, Holland dared to sit upright, spreading his legs so that you were between them, looking up at him with your head leaning on his thigh, a small smile on your lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirmed, gently pushing him back until his back hit the mattress, straddling his waist. "You gonna let go of the pillow?"

He threw it, and ignored whatever went crashing down with it as he eagerly gripped at your sides. "Better?"

"Much," you nodded. laughing loudly when he moved to pin you onto your back beneath him, your wrists in his hands as he pinned them above your head. "Don't start something that you can't finish, mind, March."

"I can finish it," he murmured. "Just… tell me one thing."

"Anything."

"Tell me you love me."

[wouriqueen]

2x06 thoughts - part 3 - Armand & co

He needed a whole section for himself because he's a freak

Masterclass of playing of the victim

"I can't do anything about the coven." "I'm protecting myself from Daniel Molloy." He's so funny and evil. The audacity the manipulation the lies. It's to the point where I might have to subscribe to the idea that he's got to believe some of what he's saying. Otherwise it's too big.

Armand and Claudia

"Thank you for never treating me like a child" + Claudia apologizing to Armand... Despite her fear of being put aside by Louis for Armand, and her resentment at Louis endangering her for the sake of his relationship with Armand, Claudia has always made sure to show respect for Armand and his position. She did her job. She spoke up respectfully. Stuff she didn't even owe him considering he strangled her and threatened to kill her over literally nothing. She went to him to get approval for turning Madeleine. When they meet again with Madeleine and Louis, she apologizes to him for the conflict he went through with the coven, even though that was mainly about Louis, and even though it started way before she even had any idea of turning anyone or going anywhere.

And right after that apology he lets her get kidnapped and killed. Just like her apology to Lestat was met with ugly mockery and eventually assault :(

"She's worth having" not the objectification.

"You'll come together again" (about Louis and Claudia) I know he believed that and I know that's why he let her die. Because he didn't want that. I know it.

"It's forbidden, Claudia doesn't want his (Lestat's) blood" Says the guy who called her Claudia de Lioncourt!!! And he's so disrespectful, saying that to Louis' face even though Louis was there when he called her that (and I liked that he defended her). Now you respect her wishes to not be associated with Lestat?

There's so many more hypocritical moments in general but I might just list them in another post.

Armand and Louis

Louis sick and tired of "Yes, Maître" My absolute favorite scene is at the park when Louis asks Armand to witness Madeleine turning, Armand tries to turn it into a "Maître" situation, and Louis immediately shuts down. He does kind of play into it with a nonchalant order but he also makes it clear he dislikes it. He just wanted to ask his boyfriend for a favor... He's already tired of having to play that game every time he asks for something that matters to him and they haven't even left Paris! Armand apologizes, but does he truly understand?

Not to mention, given the nasty looks Louis was throwing Madeleine before the bite, I'm sure he felt lonely. Having Armand by his side would have eased the feeling of loss (as Claudia said, "to get something you must lose something" but what he was getting didn't show up).

Armand moving in. I know Claudia herself wasn't really living at the apartment anymore but the way Armand moved in as soon as she left town aghdjshuis

Daniel spelling it out. Too bad that it had to be done that way for people to get it, but I'm glad Daniel pointed out how Armand's submission to Louis was only when it was convenient to him. It was always obvious. Hopefully the bad discourse around it dies down!

Armand, Louis and Daniel

Vampire apologies and dubious alliances. Armand apologizes to Daniel for the memory edit. He has to be prompted to apologize about the attempted murder. He does not apologize for the torture. Daniel is holding onto the shared outrage and the connection he found with Louis earlier, and at first they're kind of a team, but in the end it's not quite going as planned.

Poor Daniel is about to find out what it really feels like to sit on the outskirts of Louis' relationships. He better re-read those diaries for reference...

Vampire hackers and the Talamasca. WHAT is going on with that though? Armand asking about the suddenly encrypted laptop means he regularly snoops around in there, no? And why is he asking Rashid about Daniel's outing as if he can't read both their minds. He knows for sure. But why not just come out with it?

Anyway those were my thoughts, I loved the episode.

2x06 thoughts - part 1 - Madeleine & co

2x06 thoughts - part 2 - Claudia & Louis

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Hey everyone!

I'm going to be very busy for the next while. Probably a couple weeks. It could be more though. I just wanted to let everyone know so no one is worried as to why I just fell off the face of the earth. I'll be deleting the Tumblr app later on today to focus on some stuff so I won't be able to respond to messages after that.

I'll be back sometime in September hopefully. I know I haven't been posting a lot this summer. I wish I could but I just don't have a lot of time to sit down and write. But hopefully afterwards the updates should start again.

ALSO AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED. I WILL PAINSTAKINGLY GO THROUGH ALL MY LIKES AND FOLLOWER LIST TO BLOCK EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU BEFORE I POST AN UPDATE ON MY SERIES!

I was gone for a while the previous week and the amount of blank blogs that followed and liked my posted was infuriating. I'm going to make sure you don't read my new chapters even if it takes me hours to block all of you. Learn to respect boundaries. I don't want minors and blank blogs on my page. And I certainly don't want you commenting and engaging with my posts.

Sorry I had to get that off my chest. I wish everyone well. I'll look forward to coming back and catching up on all the lovely post my friends and mutuals posted.

Take care everyone. I'll see you in a couple weeks.

-xoxo

[bestangelofall]

Do you know if anyone has made a chronological list of Natasha comics kinda like the dailyjasontodd account? I want to read some of her comics but I’m so lost and I have no idea where to start.

Hi anon! Thank you for the ask :)

Idk if there's a list as detailed as the one you mentioned for Jason, but also because I don't think a list so detailed is needed, because there are no hard reboots and things like that to keep track of.

I found this recent list below. It's for Black Widow, Winter Soldier and for the Winterwidow ship, but you can skip and read as you prefer, I suppose. Moreover, it's also for "modern" Black Widow, as it starts with what I believe it's Natasha's first solo, BW1999 (please correct me if I'm wrong). Before that, she appeared on Daredevil, X-Men and Captain America comics (I haven't read those, but hopefully someone seeing this might have some suggestions regarding those).

I understand that some people like to read everything in chronological order, and if that's the case, this list here seems pretty comprehensive:

Now, for people who don't care about chronological order that much, and who are interested in Natasha but don't want to read a ton of stuff, I personally think you could pick up any of:

Black Widow: The Name of the Rose (it's BW2010 #1-5, the rest of the BW2010 run is meh, so you can skip them if you feel like it). I suggest this one because I think it's the best BW solo. It's a great arc, has amazing characterization, pretty art, and the prose of Nat's inner monologue is just beautiful. And it's also very short, so it can be easy to get into. If you have to read one BW comic, read this one.

Black Widow 2014 #1-20. It's *very* good too, it's not my favorite only because I think the one above is really phenomenal. Amazing plot and characterization (probably my favorite kid!Nat appearance too), and the art is really pretty (my favorite art, probably). Also, there's Liho, Nat's cute cat :)

Black Widow 2016 #1-12 is also good. Shorter than the 12 issues make it appear imo, and though not as good as those two above, it's a very solid run.

These three above would imo be easiest to get into, and for people only reading a few runs, those should absolutely not be skipped (but like, especially 2010 and 2014).

Now, there's also BW2004, which is very important for historical reasons, I suppose, because a lot of the things we associate with Natasha appeared there first. It's fairly short, too, and also a very solid arc. Actually, I think this one should be included in the "non-skippable" list too.

I also recommend BW1999 and BW2001, both 3-issues long, for the relationship between Natasha and Yelena (who's a very different character from the MCU), though I don't particularly think those two minis are really great.

Also, if you interested in Buckynat, I think the first list I linked is already sufficient, but I must emphasize that Winter Soldier 2012 is GREAT (and it's honestly pretty important too, for Natasha herself, because *things* that happen there keep affecting Natasha for some time).

There are more important comics for her (like Captain America 2005 #27 onwards, which I also recommend because they are very good), but I think the ones above are the easiest to pick up without it being overwhelming, and if you're not super interested in the other characters.

[krowsindulgences]

Progress on my Recreyo AU - Recreyo Myths

Okay, so it feels like I haven't updated in a while, but I have. And I want to make an update post or two! I will have a list of what I will talk about here.

Something with the title

The reason why Im not writing another fic

Story Progress

Okay, so first lets talk about the-

1. Title

If you have noticed from my past works on ao3(Just one), you will have seen the title as 'Recreyo Mythology'. I have changed it to just Myths because even though it sounds cool, Mythology means to STUDY myths. I really feel like a said 'woopsie daisy' on that one. So... expect it to be renamed when I post my next fic.

Actually, when am I making my next fic?

Well... not soon. Yep. You want to know why?

Its because we'll be going on number 2 now. Which is-

2. Osha-Rkry Progress

WOO! Yep, Im taking this language stuff seriously. I have long finished the phonology(sounds) of the language, so here are the things I have written in my grammar document at the moment:

Articles

Grammatical Gender

Grammatical Cases

Time Tenses

Numbers

Let's now see the progress.

The ones that are completed are Articles, Grammatical Gender and Cases. Yes, that's not a lot, but I am not including the more basic things about the language which are completed.

For now, I can give a sneak peek of what I have. I dont really know why, but I just dont want to show off everything.

First to show: Grammatical Gender + Pronouns

This is the whole thing, actually. I just dont think people would be able to really read this all at a first glance/dont take their time into it.

I actually do have a list on how some of the characters would refer to themselves.

Ai and Ao / Sasha /sə.ʃə/ - "Nrdw Ghrknyhry" (LIT: Like 1(S.God))

Chilly - "Nrdw Rknyhry" (LIT: Like 1(J.God))

Curt - "Kazhodo nrdw" (LIT: It like (1(?)))

Please remember the context of the structure being Object Verb Subject. 1 in this context refers to a first person pronoun, for example I and Me.

Second to show: Articles

The words are whited out on purpose.

Third to show: Time Tenses System

I think this can also be considered as 'Immortal Time / Mortal Time' too...

Well, thats all I want to show of Osha-Rkry right now! Hopefully you'll see more soon. Now, onto the next!

3. Story Progress

I think this is what most you all are for. Actually, with some help of @turkeyinnovember (Maybe a bit more with a reblog lol) I have done...

The backstories/backgrounds of EVERYONE! Along with a basic story concept.

You can expect 2/3 seperate stories/perspectives in this au. I will be listing the concepts of these plotlines, not the title.

Main Story 1: A girl gets spirited away to a new path in life, which changes her world a lot. The Gods she knows are not what is in front of her. Is she just forced to live a life in a different world? Is it even a different world?

Main Story 2: Did she find him? Or did he find her? No matter, because the Goddess of Knowledge has found a issue she had never faced before: She doesn't know a smidge about him.

Side Story 1: 'To meet a God is a Glory,' they said. One way or another, he finds himself in that exact situation. Is this what he wanted?

Also, the designs are REALLY unfinished. I only have Chillys concept going along, but I appear to be stuck.

Hint: I need ideas for tattoos. Please help me, anyone.

Well, I think thats it! I hope you all will like the AU Im preparing. This is Krow, saying goodbye! Have a wonderful time, folks!

Kra Rkry, its past 10 pm...

[fearecia]

Putting this in a pinned post to make it easy to find/share. We all know how Tumblr is about things (and to be fair, I'm terrible and inconsistent as hell with tags).

Link to the "shoulder release" document:

Notes about this guide:

This is a WIP, and still very much in the rough draft phase. Please forgive typos/errors. I literally haven't done a single edit yet.

The document focuses on releasing shoulders as a way to treat neck tension and migraines. Seriously, just trust me. It helps.

Carpal tunnel? Tennis elbow? Golfer's elbow? AC (acromioclavicular) joint injury? Rotator cuff problems? Tight upper back? Sporadic numbness in your arm? Seriously, just try the muscles already listed. You'll likely find at least some relief. Like, if it involves the upper body, release your shoulders.

I've done my best to make this able to be understood by people without massage training. So if it seems like it's covering really "obvious" info, that's intentional. Just skip the section if you already know things.

A lot of massage therapists may balk at me telling you to dig around in your own armpit. We're taught in school to avoid the area. Why? Because there's a crap ton of nerves and blood vessels there. *Which is precisely why releasing this area is so powerful.* There's also a ton of muscle (on yes, basically everybody) here that will protect all those structures. It's honestly really safe so long as you stick to "In pain, refrain!" And read the other rules too.

90% of the time, the culprit is one of the four muscles listed (or any combination of them). If you are someone who exercises a lot/does yoga/is otherwise pretty physically active, you are more likely to fall into the 10% of people who will have their issue somewhere else/it will just be really hard to find. So bear that in mind.

Sadly, this sort of thing will probably never be a "one and done" type of deal. Most of the things we do every day steadily build up to cause problems, and you have to constantly work to undo that entropy. So save these notes for future you.

And just in case you want to know what the hell qualifies me to make this sort of document, here are my "quals."

My first career attempt was nursing. While this did not go well (doctors don't really appreciate autistic students willing to question their authority) I learned a shit ton about the body. I became a student teacher for the anatomy and physiology class because I was so good at it (and that professor used to teach the pre-med students). A&P is now literally one of my special interests.

8 years as a licensed massage therapist focused exclusively on injury therapy. I studied Rolfing techniques, and primarily used trigger point therapy, structural integration, and myofascial release as my tools. Clients liked to joke that going to see me was like seeing the physical therapist (they weren't wrong).

Some of the stuff I share is literally self taught through "following the tension" in clients bodies. Like, I developed some of my protocols. And then practiced and refined them over 100s of bodies. The goal was always the most efficient and least painful way to achieve lasting release.

I eventually destroyed my shoulder doing massage (which was injured long before this career due to an AC joint sprain gotten when I was 20). Bonus, this means I'm *very* practiced at releasing my own shoulders.

I'm now a mechanical engineer, which just means I now have the engineering knowledge to understand to the force transferrence patterns I saw in clients all the time. Kinesiology is the same thing as statics and dynamics.

Hopefully that helps put perspective into things. I'll update this post as new versions of the document come out. I have a ton on my plate right now (who am I joking; I always have a ton on my plate), so please be patient waiting for updates.

[skibasyndrome]

Hi!! How's the kinktober writing going? Any kinks you are finding challenging to write? Anything you're really excited about? I'm looking forward to reading your fics! 🔥💜

Hi Anon!!!! You're so sweet for asking, thank you for reaching out!!! 💜💜💜💜💜💜

It's actually going quite well atm :') After @pagegirlintraining dragged me out of a spiral this morning and then sat down with me for a very productive writing sesh I'm very excited to announce that I've made it through the most challenging (and, standing at a whopping 10k at this point with a small amount of connective scenes still missing, probably [hopefully] longest) fic I set out to write for kinktober :) At this point I don't think I wanna quite spoil the prompt yet, but it should come at some point during the next couple days, since I want to try to alternate shorter fics and ficlets with longer ones!

I think after this one, everything should flow relatively smoothly, because most of the other kinks aren't that challenging for me personally to write. I mean, there's definitely stuff that comes more naturally to me than other things (there are prompts that are going to be repeated a couple of times, like thighs, praise kink, masturbation, staying quiet, hands), but over all... after getting THIS ONE out of the way I think I'm ready for anything, haha.

Before kinktober was announced I accepted some prompts I got sent via ask and one of them was angry sex, that's definitely also one that is a bit of a challenge for me (but I am SO looking forward to it!) and then there are things like food play that I haven't written or read a lot before, those are definitely going to be a little challenging as well.

I'm soooo looking forward to getting to write lots and lots and lots though! I also decided to pepper a couple of personal faves in that aren't on the list and I have a few things that I'm going to write because I had conversations (and sometimes... an outright challenge directed at me lol) about them with friends, so hopefully there'll be a lot of variety.

I was a little scared of maybe getting bored with writing so many fics in such a short amount of time and (and that fear still kinda stands but we'll have to see) of maybe boring you guys with settings that aren't different enough, but the more I think about it and the more of my prompt combination turn into little fics, the more excited I am about it all :)

Makes me very happy to hear that you're looking forward to reading them, it means a lot 🥹🫶💜🥹🫶💜🥹🫶💜

And now I'm off to actually finish the fic I'm going to post tomorrow, aaaaah (I can give you that much: it's one of the many fics containing the prompt masturbation)

[coffeebanana]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤️

OOOH FUN TY FOR THE ASK SUNNY. i'm gonna be honest i do not really have a top five. i typically have a top 2 or 3, and it usually varies to include stuff i've either posted recently or stuff i'm currently working on--so stuff that is fresh in my mind so my mind. buuuuuuut i'll see what i can dig up here. in no particular order...

Maybe This Life -- mtl fic is my self-indulgent (read: angsty) long fic of the moment. i can't remember for sure but i think last time i answered this ask i listed this fic even though it was as of yet unpublished? i might be misremembering though. ANYWAYS it's been flowing well lately so i'm very pleased with it. hopefully there will be an update soon(ish) 😊

Say Something -- i'm always surprised every time i find myself myself rereading this one to realize how well it holds up. because i started this over 2 years ago, and a lot of fics i wrote that long ago would have me nitpicking things when i reread. and to be fair i've edited parts of this since they were originally posted, but STILL it always makes me FEEEEL THINGS. and even though i haven't updated in over a year i promise i haven't forgotten about it kasfbdskjb i just need to...finish a couple things before i can return my focus to it

Entangled -- this one is angsty and sciency! what's not to love?

How to Crack a Few Jokes -- this was soooo self-indulgent. and it's still fresh in my mind ergo it makes the list

Villains That Live In My Head OR Pull Me From the Embers -- YES I CHEATED AND PICKED TWO BUT I'M BAD AT DECISIONS. also, these are both short, angsty oneshots that i go back to reread somewhat often. so they occupy a similar go-to comfort read in my mind

[ao3-oner]

hi oner!

im a really big fan of your writing, thank you for posting so much!

quick question just for fun: if someone could only read five of your fics and no more, and you got to pick which ones, which five would you want them to read? you can include wips if you want

im just curious lol, happy writing and hope you post soon

Hi there, anon! Thank you so much for reading my stuff. I hope I post soon too LMAO, life can be busy sometimes but hopefully I'll be able to find time to write more in the upcoming weeks. I'm glad you're enjoying my fics so far :)

Man, your question is really hard to answer, though - asking a writer to pick their favorite pieces is like asking a parent to choose a favorite child. That said, I never claimed to be a good fic-parent, so ofc I have my faves. If someone, for whatever reason, could only read five of my fics, the ones I would recommend are:

1. Metro Lines and Their Prismatic Tears - 10,000 words, Rated T, minor background ships, Peyz-centric

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I think Metro Lines is my best-written fic so far. I also think it's unique in that none of my other fics really capture what it does - like if I wanted to include a GuKe fic on my list I would have a handful to choose from, but this fic is truly one-of-a-kind. I like the AU, I like the characterizations, and overall I'm really proud of my work on this fic.

2. Mad Scientist Incorrigible - 30,000 words, Rated E for lots of sex, multi-ship (Lehends x Everyone) but RuLehends-focused, Lehends-centric

Even though I think Metro Lines is better-written, I still see M.S.I. as my magnum opus and likely the coolest fic I'll ever write. Writing this fic as the tournament was going on was such a fun experience and I'm still shocked that it all came together so well narratively. I really enjoy all the drama of the piece and I think no list of ArchiveofOurOner fics would be complete without it.

I think those two very cleanly take the top spots on my list. From here on out, things get a little more debatable, but for number 3, I'll add the one other fic that I've referred to as "my favorite one" before:

3. The Man Who Talked Shit About Choi Wooje - 4,000 words, Rated T/M for violence, One2eus, shifting POV

I love this fic because it defines "crack treated seriously". Every part of it is just so ridiculous and it was super fun to write. I think part of why I consider it one of my favorites is because I had such a blast writing it, but it also shows a different tone of fic than the other two, so I think it's a good inclusion. I also sorely need to include more of my T1 boys on this list, which brings me to my next entry:

4. Facecheck - 14,000 words, Rated E for some smut, One2eus with background GuKe, Zeus-centric

As my first and most popular fic, I feel like Facecheck is another requirement for the AO3 Oner list. That's not to suggest that I don't love it - I do, but I definitely think that I've grown in my writing since then. It would still be a good include to show that growth, plus it's a fun read even if I personally consider it to be more middle-of-the-pack in terms of my work quality.

For the final slot... damn, okay, this is actually really hard. See, if the question was simply which other of my fics do I like the most, then I'd probably go with 04.11.2023, but that feels way too similar to Mad Scientist Incorrigible (since it's literally just an extension of that fic). I would also consider including my Spider-Oner AU, Strand By Silken Strand, which I'm quite proud/fond of, but let's be real - I haven't included any CanMaker on the list yet and that's a complete sin. So, with that in mind:

5. Flash-Ult - 2,000 words, Rated T, CanMaker, Canyon-centric

It was a really close call between this and Heartbreaker, but I think Flash-Ult won out for me primarily because it's much sweeter and a good deal less angsty (though there is still a bit of angst at the end). All in all, Flash-Ult is a classic, feel-good hurt/comfort fic that I think suits my dynamic of CanMaker very well and is therefore a good representation of how I write the ship. I think between M.S.I. and Facecheck, there's already enough smut on the list, but if I were to include a CanMaker smut fic instead... maybe Unleashed Power, tbh? Ig that would also allow for a taste of my Omegaverse AU...

But yeah, that's my list of 5, plus a few bonus ones tossed around in between. They aren't my best fics, they certainly aren't my most popular fics, but I think they make up the best representation of my total LoL RPF corpus so far. If someone could only read a small portion of my writing, then I think this selection would give them a pretty good taste of what my fics are like. Hopefully, they'd enjoy them as much as you have, anon!

Thanks for the ask - it was certainly an interesting one - and have a great day, wherever you are!