#idk how to make it more clear this is spoilers

[vodkacheesefries]

big spoilers for dragon age the veilguard from early access players beneath the cut.

Also lengthy rambling/opinions.

proceed at thine own peril

In theory I'm okay with things being boiled down into a handful of simple questions to help new incoming players establish a background for their game.

HOWEVER, we're only getting three, and those are:

Did your Inquisitor disband/keep the Inquisition?

Did they vow to save/stop Solas?

Who did they romance?

That's it. This is. A choice.

I get it. it's been 10 years since Inquisition came out and longer since DA2 and DAO. A lot of people probably haven't played the early games, and there are hundreds if not thousands of choices across all three games that including them in Veilguard would be difficult.

But there are a handful of choices/decisions that it is absolutely wild to me that they aren't including in Veilguard's questionnaire. At the bare minimum I was hoping for the following:

What was the fate of your Grey Warden?

What was the fate of your Hawke?

Who drank from the Well of Sorrows?

Did your Inquisitor disband/keep the Inquisition?

Did your Inquisitor vow to save/stop Solas?

That's it! Only two more questions than we already have, and two of them are the same as the ones we're getting. All of the important story choices, and small choices that you could make in the prior games boil down to the fate of your character in that game so there's no need to get more detailed than that.

For example, obviously if your Warden survived the final battle, the dark ritual took place, so there's no need to ask more about it. Obviously if Hawke was left in the fade, they didn't go to Weisshaupt, and Alistair/Loghain/Stroud stayed in the Fade. Obviously if Morrigan drank from the well of Sorrows, your Inquisitor isn't going to be linked to Mythal, but Morrigan is.

Those feel like arguably the most important story beats from the previous games and I feel like that still keeps it simple enough and doesn't rely on importing potentially thousands of choices you made across the three prior games, while still explaining just enough without having to explain too much to new players.

(side note: I suppose if we want to get extra fancy we can add a question for "Who did your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor romance" because callbacks to those relationships have always been fun, especially if we're getting any sort of cameo of past companions. Which at this point, I don't think we are.)

As far as past player characters returning, I get why that's hard to do because there's so many different endings for the Warden, and even Hawke post Inquisition. Would I like for them to show back up? Sure. But I'm okay if they don't.

TBH the most I've been hoping for is that maybe somewhere in a level/mission you're on, maybe with Davrin, you could find an easy to miss crumpled up letter/codex entry on it talking about how if your Warden was still alive they found a cure and disappeared into a well deserved retirement and to not bother them with anymore end of the world bullshit ever again.

Hell, I'd even accept it if it mentioned they'd started hearing the Calling and went to the Deep Roads and they're sorry they couldn't do more. I just want to know what happens to them. It doesn't have to be a pivotal plot point or anything.

Crumbs.

I am begging for crumbs, Bioware.

PS: I know it sounds like I'm being incredibly critical of the game, but I am actually very excited for it and I do think I'll enjoy it, despite any ties, or lack thereof, to prior games. I'm a big fan of being critical of the things you enjoy.

Now if you want me to get really critical because I don't like something, ask me how I feel about Inquisition because WHOOO boy I could give a Ted Talk about how much I dislike Inquisition.

[hinamie]

alongside someone like you

[travellingtribble]

so the plot holes... were just plot holes? the unexplained things were just... unexplained things?

[muninnhuginn]

Thinking about "your weakness is how you always want to be the hero" and how the series returns to this at the end

Li Lianhua hated how he acted as Li Xiangyi and spent years trying to distance himself from it, but ultimately he still fell back into the similar patterns, for all his added experience

His main priority was always to "do the right thing" regardless of how that would impact on those around him. And it *did* impact those around him. From Qiao Wanmian and Shan Gudao as Li Xiangyi to Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng as Li Lianhua

Giving the Styx flower to the emperor so he could use it as leverage to guarantee Fang Duobing and his family's safety. Using the last of his power to save Yun Biqiu. Constantly putting others above himself whilst actively refusing to recognise that his self-sacrificial nature would hurt those he cared about most

And sure, he thinks he's going to die anyway. They're going to be hurt regardless and he can't do anything about that. His odds are low of the Styx flower even working. But ultimately, he refuses to even consider trying. Li Xiangyi has been dead a long time and Li Lianhua is just there to tide things over. What value is the life of a ghost

To the end, he lives and dies a hero. To the end, he refuses to live for himself.

[lavenderjewels]

you fascinate me

[technicalthinker]

Since I see a lot of reactions on articles/quotes from the Loki crew and cast, here are some general reminders when it comes to stuff like this;

There are so many people working on a show/movie and everyone make decisions creating the final product we watch. Of course they do a lot of work to unite their visions and make it cohesive, but "contradictions" may still happen. We often talk about the obvious people behind a show, the actors, writers and directors, but there are also costume designers, composers and editors, etc. All of these people can have different perspectives and pull things in different directions, that just sort of comes with the nature of making such a big show.

And then it comes to producing a show itself. Productions are messy. Things get reworked on the spot because what might've worked on the page didn't work in practice, props break and need to be changed, actors can't be in for the day, etc. All of these affect the final products in chaotic ways. Sometimes unpredictable things like this may get in the way of or improve the story.

And finally articles/interviews purpose is to provide this one specific person's perspective and promote the show, or engage fans.

So take these things with a grain of salt. You don't need to base your entire view on the show on statements from cast/crew. Is the line less meaningful because it was improvised? Should we consider an episode to be less canon because it was apparently rewritten a lot from its original state?

Your fan experience will likely be healthier and more fun if you try to mainly engage with the art you have in front of you. If you read quotes from creators and feel frustrated that they are inconsistent with the art - first of all, art is subjective, it just comes with the territory. But my main point of the post is that even if a person is working on the show, it doesn't mean that their view is 100% represented within the text. You don't need to go full Death of the Author here, but you gotta remember there isn't just one author and that author's intent at work here, there is a production, with all that comes with it. And honestly? That's what makes it interesting. All of these visions coming together to create art that we get to take part in, and whatever vision we're getting as a viewer might be something completely unique.

[codexbrainhasbrokenfree]

[t-u-i-t-c]

incredible

[beesinspades]

sometimes you gotta sit down and stare at the wall for a little while because you just realized that tristamp might include eriks!vash getting naked in front of everyone and barking like a dog in the most humiliating scene you'll ever see

[buddies4life]

I would just like to share these screen shots I took when I was slowing down “the scream” for reasons…Look at the devastation!

[sharkieboi]

everyone’s talking all these sophisticated points about Glass Onion but i personally cannot get over the lingering camera shot on the ass of the statue Benoit hides behind to eavesdrop on Miles and Peg

[thewispsings]

A female f1 driver who was featured in the barbie movie as the f1 driver. You could write about her scene and working with the Margot and Ryan lol, and how the grid reacts to it. Lanpd could be her bf or not if you don't want.

You don't have to absolutely write if it doesn't strike any inspiration and you obviously can write whatever you want you xoxo

barbie girl | redbull!reader

pairing: f1 grid x reader

summary: redbull!reader does a cameo in the barbie movie

part of my ‘redbull!reader’ series

liked by alex_albon, landonorris, and 816,027 others!

yourusername: this barbie is a f1 driver! 🎀 barbie is out now in theaters near you <33 (or not near you? idk where you lot live)

view comments below!

user1: yn is just hitting all these side quests because what?

user1: happy for her tho!

user2: is this what it’s like to be so rich that you can literally do whatever you want?

user3: YN CAMEO!!!!

user4: WE CHEERED

user5: omw to see barbie now

landonorris: i know where you live

user6: can someone tell me her part in the movie? my parents won’t let me see it 😓

user7: she’s a f1 driver barbie, and she’s gets into a relationship with f1 driver ken (played by glen powell) throughout the movie you could see like snippets of them going from friends to bf and gf!! you could probably find some clips on youtube or something :)

user6: thank you <33

user7: GLEN POWELL????

user8: THE CAPYBARA GUY???

charles_leclerc: i can be your ken 😊

yourusername: no thank you i already have my glen ken!

charles_leclerc: but he can’t drive a REAL f1 car

yourusername: i can teach him

charles_leclerc: FINE

charles_leclerc: BE LIKE THAT THEN

charles_leclerc: I DONT CARE

charles_leclerc: GOSH

glenpowell: i would like to make it very clear that i have no interest in learning how to drive a f1 car!

charles_leclerc: NO ONE CARES GLEN

user9: i love when yn posts because i just know the comments are going to be filled with the drivers acting like they have no decorum

landonorris: i know where you live

alex_albon: movie night?

maxverstappen1: i already watched it

georgerussell63: we know…we all saw the picture of you decked out in pink at the movie theater

user10: LMAO

user11: it makes so much sense that the first time we see max in pink is when he’s supporting yn

lewishamilton: so excited to see it! 🩷

yourusername: love you 💚

charles_leclerc: I LOVE YOU TOO YN

maxverstappen1: i want love

alex_albon: can’t remember the last time you said that to me…sigh…

georgerussell63: love me next?

oscarpiastri: playing favorites i see 🤨

landonorris: i love you too 🥰

user12: bring back shame

user13: their desperation makes me sick

oscarpiastri: i guess ill watch barbie now

yourusername: why are you pretending like you weren’t the first to ask me for spoilers?

oscarpiastri: no clue what you’re talking about???

yourusername: mhm sure osc sure

user14: osc 🥹

landonorris: i know where you live

yourusername: what is wrong with you?

landonorris: i’m outside your door

user15: it’s official, lando is killing yn so he can win more races

. . .

notes: thank you for requesting!! hope you don’t mind i used this for my redbull!reader au :)

[sundrop-writes]

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

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

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: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

[of-solitude-past-and-present]

Warnings: branding (of reader), as well as typical yandere themes like abduction, mentioned murder, mentioned violence, and threats.

There are also slight spoilers for the main quest (Idk how the quests are organized yet HAKDHD I didn't pay attention. But I'm at the point where I have to get to union lvl 21 to continue the main quest, so no spoilers for those quests).

ALSO HI LADIES here's your yearly fanfic. The drabbles are in chronological order. Its nearly 2.9k words total. Goodbye now.

Scar is a busy man who, by the nature of his work, can't settle down in any one place for too long.

It's what is keeping you sane, honestly. You only have a certain dramatic, scarred, card-wielding bastard on your couch (or, as is becoming more frequent, next to you when you wake up) for a few days every once in a while. His visits are irregular and unpredictable, just like he is. 

That doesn't make it much better, though. He seems to take pride in being a pest. Scar loves attention, and unfortunately, he's not above being annoying to get it. From monologues about the great Lament to asking you about tragedies that seem random, until he openly admits to being the culprit so he can tell the story, there's little he won't do to keep your eyes on him. None of it is anything that would be helpful to the authorities, of course, but there's not much to avoid talking about there. The Fractsidus has always made their ideals quite clear, after all.

One of the first things you do when you find him, relaxing in your living room like he owns it, is threaten to tell the higher-ups about him.

"Alright, then. Go right ahead!" With a seemingly carefree smile, he crosses his legs on your couch, feet on the table and all, and gestures towards the front door.

You narrow your eyes at him and back away, not tearing them away for a second. He snorts and gives you a small, sarcastic little wave and an ingenuine closed-eye smile.

Your back hits the door behind you, so you're forced to turn around to undo the deadbolt. Right as you do, though, a strange, bright red blanket of cards spreads up from beneath your feet, encasing you in a dome. You blink, and you're under a red sky on a desolate, floatibg island. Whirling all around you is a maelstrom of decimated buildings and pillars.

You whirl on your feet, and your eyes land on him, standing only a few feet away from you with one hand on his hip. A muted sense of anxiety thrums uneasily in the back of your mind. Your eyes meet his, one red and the other a dull gray, and you think you finally understand how a deer in headlights feels.

"Are you going to kill me?" Your voice is eerily steady and calm, belying the anxiety and adrenaline rushing through your veins. It sounds alien to your ears.

He outright laughs in your face and leans in close. "What reason would I have to lie?" he asked. "If I did want to kill you, I'd just tell you. There's nothing you could do to stop me." He places a hand on your head and ruffles your hair, undeterred by your instinctual flinch.

"Remember this. With the new Lament growing ever closer, nobody has the resources or time to spare to keep a simple civilian, like you, safe from someone like me." Scar's tone lowers towards the end with a dark promise, and his smile sharpens into a smirk.

He turns on one heel and walks away. With a snap of his fingers, the chaotic scenery melts away to reveal your simple living room once again. "Consider that a warning. Even if you did tell anyone, do you think they could do anything that would help you?" He looks over his shoulder at you, his dim, empty eyes flashing dangerously.

"Think about the price they would have to pay for your own desperation."

Night has long since fallen, but you're still out and about. It's not that you have anything left to do, it's just... when you go home, you're going to have to see Scar again. If you have to listen to another of his monologues, you might actually try to kill him. It's not because you're a little scared of him. Of course not.

(Your eyes still dart around nervously, jumping at any flash of red you see.)

You check your phone for the time, only to find it's just past midnight. Everything is closed, and you're really not sure what to do now. Maybe you should just suck it up and go home. The thought has you slumping your shoulders with a defeated sigh.

A hand clamps down on your mouth, and another strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. In a panic, you kick and flail and try your best to scream, but it's all futile. They drag you into the alleyway behind you anyway.

"Relax! It's just me," Scar purred, the hints of a laugh tinging his voice. His breath fans against your ear. "I've just noticed... You've been spending so much time out and about, it's like you’ve forgotten about me. Consider my feelings hurt."

Scar pulls the both of you into one of his all-too-familiar crimson portals. You try to pipe up with some snide comments or annoyed curses, but his hand only presses more firmly against your mouth.

"Ah-ah-ah." He moves his hand into your sight from your waist just to wag a claw-tipped finger at you before he places it back, securing you against him again.

It's only a few seconds before a wall in your bedroom comes into view and the red light of the portal behind you disappears. All of a sudden Scar falls backwards, pulling you helplessly along with him. You make an embarrassing, surprised little squeak on the way down, reflexively clinging to him until you both land on the bed behind you.

He lets out an amused little chuckle and rolls over, putting you both on your sides with his chest pressed against your back. He buries his face in your throat with a sigh and finally frees your mouth so he can hold you close like a plushie.

"I know what you were trying to do," he murmurs into your ear, a threatening undertone to his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just busy."

His lips dance across your skin, and you can feel his smile against your throat. "You don't think I'm gullible, do you?"

Well, dammit. So much for that. You try to look at him to gauge his reaction, but his arms only tighten around you. His face is hidden in your neck anyway, so it's a lost cause.

"I'm... sorry?"

"As long as you don't try it again, dollface."

For a few months, maybe a year (depending on the timing and your temperament) Scar doesn't think he'll need to kidnap you. You're somewhere safe, in a place where he can come find you whenever he pleases. Why bother? Besides, it's nice watching you go about your day.

Unfortunately, he slowly comes around more and more over time, making this outcome inevitable. There are two primary factors. The prophecy is the first; his free time dwindles more and more as it nears its fulfillment, and the idea of having you available at any given moment becomes a more alluring prospect day by day. Alternatively, you're too desperate to get rid of him, and he decides it would be easier to isolate you, away from any "pesky helpers," as he would put it.

Scar tosses the idea around in his mind for a few days before he makes his final decision. He won't even keep it a secret from you, either; he tells you this casually in the spur of the moment, in a bid for your attention. Maybe you seem disinterested, too busy paying attention to something else. Maybe you've realized his "weakness," as you might call it, and tried to give him the silent treatment. Either way, what you do can push him towards a decision a little early. He usually takes great care to reign in his impulses, but with you, he doesn't have to. An ordinary citizen like yourself would have quite a bit of difficulty getting away from him, after all. He finds your helplessness freeing, to a degree.

"I've been thinking lately," Scar trails off, clearly fishing for your response.

"You can do that?" It's out of your mouth before you can think to stop it. You almost regret giving him what he wants, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. At the very least, you can focus on the dishes you're washing instead of sparing him a glance.

He snorts, but otherwise doesn't acknowledge your comment. "I think it's about time we take our relationship to the next level. Don't you?"

Your head snaps in his direction. "The hell does that mean?" you demand. Your face twists in a mixture of confusion and slowly dawning horror, an expression the bastard revels in. His toothy grin widens, and with a flick of his wrist, he produces a card out of thin air to idly spin and flip between his fingers.

"It's been really nice spending time with you here, you know? But unfortunately, duty calls, and I can't always spare the time to come visit." Scar sighs dramatically with an exaggerated frown, resting both arms on the back of your couch. "It's such a shame. I'm sure you miss me, don't you?"

You uneasily turn back to the dishes, putting another on the drying rack and picking up a new one. "Not really. Don't you have any friends to talk to?"

"And there's the other point!" You refuse to look at him, but you can hear his footsteps as he leisurely saunters to the kitchen. You try to focus on scrubbing off a particularly stubborn patch of grease on your pan. "You can be so hard to deal with sometimes! It makes me wonder if all the effort I go through to keep you happy is worth it."

You furrow your brows, a frown tugging at your lips. The moment you move to speak, a red-tipped finger comes from behind to press against your lips in a shushing motion. "Now, now, dear. No need to tell me it isn't true." His face leans into view from over your shoulder with a smile. "Besides, I'm sure you'll be just as excited for this as I am."

"Excited for wh-"

Scar cuts you off without words, making the world spin as he turns you around to face him. Your pan falls with a clatter, and suddenly you're faced away from the window above the sink and looking up into his face, split by an ear-to-ear grin. His pupils are blown wide with excitement, lit up by a manic glint in his usually dull irises.

"You're coming with me. You have three days to write out your will and say goodbye to the people you care about," he spoke, his voice rough at the edges and trembling with suppressed amusement. His hands rest on the edge of the counter on each side of you, caging you in. "Try to run away or tell anyone, and I'll kill them all. Obey, and they can live."

Scar leans in so close that his nose brushes yours, with a stare so intense you would have thought his eyes were glowing. "We have a lot of things we can do with their bodies. Would you like to see what a Tacet Discord born of human flesh looks like?"

You can't tear your eyes away from his intense, bright stare for even a second. With slow, trembling movements, you shake your head.

"Now that's what I wanted to see." Scar leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips, only pulling away after a long moment. "Not so hard, was it? I'm sure you'll be alright, there's no need to be scared!" He brightens up in a flash, any trace of his previous threats gone. He licks his lips as he turns away from you.

"All that being said, I'm sure something similar will happen to your family in the true Lament, so it doesn't matter. But if it makes you happy, I don't mind leaving them be in the meantime." Scar looks up at nothing in particular, summoning another card to toy with idly. His spare hand rests behind his back.

"Isn't it boring how the world is stagnating?" Scar starts up again. "Chaos, as orchestrated by the great Threnodians, can create a form of equality impossible to achieve with our current status quo..." His voice turns fuzzy in your mind as you tune his droning out. Three days? Where is he taking you? What about your life?

You take a shaky breath, bringing a hand up to tug at your hair. Wasn't there anything you could do? All his talk of controlling one's own destiny flashes in your mind, mocking you. Would you ever see your family again?

You only realize that Scar has noticed your breakdown when he places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you close. "Aww, don't cry," he murmurs, wiping away tears you didn't even realize were falling with a thumb. "It's not so bad, I promise." His lips stretch into a facsimile of a comforting smile, and he strokes your hair in an attempt at comfort. He pulls your face into his shoulder, periodically shushing you.

You stay like that for a few minutes, and when he deems you suitably stable, he moves to lean on you with one arm on your shoulder, the other outstretched before the both of you in a grand gesture. "Don't worry, just imagine it. Wouldn't it be lovely, being safe and sound by my side in my new world?"

"Not at all. Are you sure you don't hate me?" You mumble, your voice rough and tired.

He rolls his eyes. "Darling, I could never. Oh well, I'm sure you'll come around." Scar shrugs it off. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers, and his eyes flash, as though he had remembered something important. "Oh, by the way, the rest of today is the first of the three days. Would you like to get a head start?"

Fuck.

One day, Scar returns from one of his excursions with a plan in mind. Without a word, he sits you down in the makeshift infirmary of his Fractsidus hideout of choice for the week. For once, he refuses to answer any of your questions, instead opting to gather a few medical supplies from around the room. When he's satisfied with the collection—bandages, ointment, and a bottle of painkillers—he sets them down on the table next to you.

"Did you get hurt out there or something?" You cross your arms and lean back in the uncomfortable metal chair. "Don't expect me to bandage you up." If that growing smile is anything to go by, he knows you're just trying to cover up your sense of unease, but he doesn't call you out on it.

"You wound me. But to answer your question, not quite."

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. What could he have planned?

Scar isn't going to let you theorize for too long, it seems. He kneels in front of you, one of his signature ram skull cards held flat against the palm of his hand. He ignores you as you flinch away, tensing up, eyes darting between him and his hand.

"What are you doing?" you hiss. Scar chuckles in lieu of a response. His hand drifts up to the side of your throat, pressing his palm—and the smooth side of the card within it—firmly to the skin of your throat. As if reading your mind, his opposite hand lands on your opposite shoulder, keeping you in place before you can try anything.

With a wink, a sharp-toothed grin, and a faint flash of red from beneath his hand, he sears the card's image into your skin with a flash of white-hot pain. The rest is a blur. All you can remember are your cries as he presses your face into his shoulder, stroking your hair as he shushes you.

Now you sit on the couch, with a cup of (instant, but still) hot chocolate in hand and soft bandages around your throat. Scar crosses one leg over the other and slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close.

"Why?" you ask simply, with not even enough energy left to look at him.

He hums in mock thought, making a show out of considering his words. "Well, there's really not much to it," he shrugs with one of his characteristic smiles. "I was just thinking of something more... permanent, today."

[drawingclementine]

SPOILERS FOR AMALGAMATE CHAPTER 20 BELOW ‼️ CW FOR MEDICAL/BODY HORROR AND BRIGHT COLORS

Please please please please, BEGGING AND WAILING read this fanfiction by DoctorHaifisch on Ao3, it's SOOOO GOOD !! 😭 Words cannot describe what did I just experienced while reading the whole thing but I can surely say that it made it to my favorite fic top.

First of I was just immediatly enthralled by how well Kokichi was characterized (I'm a simple woman, I see good Kokichi content, I click).

But then I quickly realised everyone else was super well written ? Even Kaito who's a character at the very beggining of my Danganronpa V3 journey I didn't really like at all because idk I guess I couldn't see clear through him and I would just label him as the hothead guy with a hero complex...

But omg with this fic you opened my eyes and unraveled something in my brain, even if it sounds dumb I think I never realised before the potential Kokichi/Kaito had together and the undeniable bound there must be between these two after what they experienced in the hangar in Chap. 5.

So just for that, thank you for making me appreciate and love Kaito where the game apparently couldn't and thank you for making me love Kokichi even more if that was even possible.

Now these two purple guys are very very dear to me and I want them and their classmates to have their happy ending after all they've endured 🥹

As for the art here, I had to redraw that beautiful art piece the author made for Chap. 20 because I'm a sucker for angsty stuff and also I was captured by how emotional and impactful it was displaying the sheer horror Kokichi experienced at some point of that chapter.

I'll definitively make more art for this fanfiction later, the only reason I've never done that before being that I didn't like how I drew Kaito but now I think I got a design I'm happy with, so be warned there will be content >:)

@amalgamateofficial

[moonswolfie]

Once in a lifetime

timeskip!Suna x reporter!reader (SPOILERS!!)

Reader is gender neutral

Because my other suna fics popped off i'm writing for my boi again ( *︾▽︾)

So yk the thing where news reporters playfully flirt with athletes/sportsmen while interviewing them sometimes? Yeah this is that basically

idk how news reporting works lmao

Being a news reporter for the sports division was always fun. You got to watch all sorts of different sports matches and competitions and even talk to some of the star atheletes up close, which was your favourite part. They always look so different to the way they do in TV.

And that holds true to EJP Raijin's Suna Rintaro, too. In a good way, a very very good way. You see, Suna Rintaro has caught your eye a while ago and you became his fan in an instant. The way he moved during each match was awfully entrancing.

You weren't going to lie, you do have a celebrity crush on him. You've watched enough matches and interviews and tiktok edits for that to hold true.

So when you got an opportunity to do post-game interviews with the EJP Raijin team, you took it as fast as you possibly could. Maybe you'll even get his autograph out of it.

So here you were, watching the match (mostly Suna) with the camera crew. It was invigorating to see him in real life, that's for sure.

The team was doing well, as expected. So close to winning, and you have zero doubt about it. With how well they're playing you just know they'll win.

You don't even realise the excited grin on your face, or the flushed cheeks for the record, but your camera crew was already gossiping about it behind you.

Their points ticked up and soon they got the final point for their victory. "Yesss..." you whispered to yourself. Winning puts the players in a good mood, consequently putting you in a good mood. And it makes them more willing to do interviews, too.

You and your camera crew pounced at the opportunity as always. You ran up to the players, the crew on your heels. And you weren't the only ones waiting to cease the opportunity, as many other reporters and photographers ran beside you. "Suna-san, Suna-san!" You tried getting his attention over the various reporters.

You knew he had a habit of ignoring interviewers, so you weren't too hopeful about an interview, especially not when literally everyone around you was also trying to get his attention, but it was always worth a try. It's not every day you see your celebrity crush, after all.

He glanced back at you, and you swear his eyes widened a little. He looked away, and then back again, seemingly deciding if it's worth it. He then stopped, letting his teammates walk around him before turning around and walking to you, pushing through the crowd of reporters.

Your smile widened with every step he took, stars shining in your eyes when you got a good look at his face up close.

Your camera crew was already set up and waiting for you to begin. You cleared your throat, trying your best to supress your big dumb smile.

"I'm here live from the stadium with EJP Raijin's number 7, Suna Rintaro!" You gesture to Suna who nods curtly. "If you don't mind, I have a few questions for you following your team's victory." You smiled brightly at him, him nodding in response.

"How did you feel about today's opponent?" You went about asking the standard questions you ask basically every time you do an interview.

"Their serves were tough to handle..." Suna sighed slightly, thinking back of all the times his receives were slightly off and the ball went in a weird direction. "And their libero was quite annoying to deal with. That's a compliment, by the way."

You chuckled a little, quickly following up with "How do you feel about your victory?" You asked, smile as bright as ever. Somehow, you felt bold all of a sudden. I mean, isn't interviewing your celebrity crush a once in a lifetime moment? You might as well take advantage of that....

You nodded along to his answer, channeling your courage in the meantime.

"And are you single?" You asked in a half joking tone so you can play it off as one just in case he doesn't take it well. You would like to think that you asked this with confidence but you honestly can't hear yourself over your hammering heartbeat right now.

He seemed stunned by your question, a small smile forming on his face when seeing your nervous smile. Your camera crew sighed, one of them smiling victoriously, knowing he won the bet.

"...Yes, I am. Why are you asking?" He asked, looking at you with feigned cluelessness. You realise just now that this is odd behaviour for him. Usually when a news reporter would try to flirt with him, he'd shut them down immediately.

"Well, you know... because this is a question of utmost importance. Alteast to me." You winked, immediately regretting it after. Ugh, that was lame...

"Is my number a a thing of utmost importance, too?" he asked playfully, smirking at you. Out of all the things that could happen today, you were never expecting him to flirt back.

You almost didn't want to believe it. You thought that you'll wake up from the dream any second now. You swallowed all your emotions quickly, nodding eagerly while trying your best to wear a flirty smile. "But of course."

At this, he chuckles a little bit, which put a big smile on your face. You cannot believe you actually made him laugh. And got to see it up close, too. "This is wayyy better than all the other interviews I've ever done. No shade to the other reporters." After a small pause, he stretched his arms.

"I'll be behind the stadium, by the way." he said with a casual smile on his face, turning around and walking off.

Only then did the reality that you just flirted with your celebrity crush on live TV truly hit you. "Umm, well, back to you, Kiriya-san!" you signified the end of your segment swiftly, and your camera crew cut the cameras.

Oh lord, the other news reporters back at the station are never going to let you forget this, are they... "Hey, look who's out here getting a boyfriend..." your cameraman teased, and you clenched your jaw in embarrasment. "You don't gotta do this to me, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity..."

"Well, then what are you waiting for? He said he's waiting for you behind the stadium."

I normally don't do this but i am in my shadowban era so likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3 )

(oh yeah, please and thank u 😊)