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endearng · 7 hours ago

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Loner to lover

Pairing: young!Spencer Reid x professor!reader Summary: Running away from your problems is said to be irresponsible, but it just might lead you to where you need to be; to whom you must be with and, utterly, to the one you're supposed to be. WC: 10.1k Warnings: jealous spencer (a warning of its own) unspecified age gap; infidelity; smut in the form of soft and vulnerable sex between two virgins - (p in v), creamp*e (sorry), softdom!spencer, dacryphilia if you squint. Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: I had to use the frightening 'L/N'. Sorry sorry sorry. Also I just know Spencer is a little shit when encouraged so... he's a bit insistent here............ anyways I love this do much and I hope you enjoy reading it as well. | Masterlist

Spencer remembers the time when you first met. The reason, happenstance and the enormous range of mixed feelings that it brought him.

Early twenties. Collecting BAs for fun. Dr. Spencer Reid thought of a social life second, third, fourth... whatever position behind his education. His responsibility and intelligence were mere details compared to his application to his studies, which was a trait that made him singular to every single one of the professors whose classes he chose to take. Quick and smart remarks, useful contributions, thought-provoking ideas, you name it; there wasn't a single good student expectation that Spencer couldn't meet. In the academic world, the young man was highly recommended and wanted by any and every superior who wanted a good insight on their research, and that was saying a lot — society's greatest minds would compete for that brilliant brain in hopes to have his attention and participation on their projects. Spencer Reid, to his colleagues, was a walking experiment: that guy was able to keep up with his classes, the research programs he was invited to be a part of (they were jealous of this particular information, because they had to almost literally fight their way into a internship) and, on his free time, he had the nerve to feed his curiosity and come up with even more ideas of his own.

A brilliant, lonely heart amidst a crowded sea of people who were mainly too focused on themselves to notice him, unless it was to compare themselves to the absolute success he was among the academic world.

Given his mild demeanor, it is no surprise that his professors would trust him anything and that he easily won their hearts over — he remembers attending dinners at their places when they were particularly close to him; Spencer was not a stranger to a safe proximity to his mentors, after all, they were his only friends. So, it was with a dreadful surprise that he received the news that his favorite professor and advisor, Dr. Brown, would retire. Immediately, Spencer thought, with a frown on his face, that nobody could replace him. Plus, it would be disencouraging to go to those classes with someone he didn’t even know. The news had dampened his mood, to say the least, and he was ready to protest.

"Don't worry, Reid," said Dr. Brown, kind eyes wrinkling in the corners as he smiled, sitting on his chair behind his huge desk, "Dr. L/N is a great person, in more ways than one. I'm sure you will be thrilled to work with her."

"I'm not sure. It takes me some time to get used to certain situations."

"I know, but I'm sure you've had to adapt to some unexpected events at some point," retorted the older man, psychologist mode in full swing, "This is no different. And, if I must say, not entirely unexpected. There's only so far a man can go without losing his mind.”

"I suppose so," Spencer muttered, feeling a bit selfish — it wasn't fair of him to put his thoughts before the older man's needs.

Dr. Brown looked at his pupil, who avoided eye contact for most of the time. The professor had taken an almost paternal liking to Spencer as they grew closer after the younger man stood behind in the classroom wanting to ask different and plenty of questions about the spectacle he had just watched, his first one. It was rare, for Mr. Brown, to have and hold a student's attention so uniquely, and it was as rare for Spencer to have someone explain things and welcome his curiosity so openly. Science had bonded them together — being men of science, they knew better than to argue with its effects.

"I was thinking, Spencer. If you're not so busy, you could keep leading the experiments in our lab, helping out our new professor." At that, Spencer's expression turned a bit sour, to which Mr. Brown chuckled, "Trust me, you'll have nothing to worry about. In fact, I think you two are greatly alike."

Spencer let nothing out but a hum of agreement, perking up slightly at that remark. He wanted to ask what the older man meant, but stopped himself, asking instead, "When does she get here?"

"I believe she is settling in her studio as we speak. You'll meet her tomorrow. I wish I could introduce the two of you, but, unfortunately, I leave at 3 a.m."

Exchanging goodbyes and wishes of a safe flight, Spencer left for his dorm, where he busied himself with the papers of the guest professor. Of course, he would not betray his ritual of researching the guest professor to know about their academic background, as well as their field of research, stylistics and projects to check if something would raise his spirits. It didn't matter that he wasn't pleased with the replacement.

Dr. L/N. You were, apparently, a great researcher for the Psycholinguistics area—a branch that made you known in fields such as Education, Criminology, Psychology, Linguistics, Communication... The list was endless. If he was honest, he felt a little baffled—and embarrassed—that he hadn't done any research on your contributions thus far. A mind like yours should get a recognition beyond any borders. Once he got a glimpse of your brain and what it could do, he was gone. Your resume was impeccable: you had studied in different institutions in countries, proficiency in multiple languages, uncountable papers and mentions of your name in studies in all the areas above.

He doesn't remember falling asleep or turning off his laptop. However, he remembers that, in dreams, he finds someone, but, strangely, he can't make up a face.

(...)

Walking through a bustling crowd of people always made you winded, the noise and the inevitable bumping too overwhelming for you to handle on top of being somewhere new. So, you preferred to sit and wait in a small, more secluded hall in the building that Dr. Brown said you would find his lab. After the morning rush, the corridors were filled by distant echoes of louder professors or students, which made you calmer; to think you weren't completely alone. Traveling to help out a friend was a much welcomed distraction from what you had left at home, something you weren't quite ready to access just yet. You could remember your shrink's voice as she said that, at times, it was useless to think so ahead of the future.

Unbeknownst to her, you agreed wholeheartedly. It was useless. The moment you could have done something for yourself was already lost, long gone, buried by endless hours of work and occupations to keep you from breaking a dam of lonely despair.

Speaking of the past, you slid your golden ring off your wedding finger, letting it fall inside your coat pocket as you made your way through the halls. Upon seeing a door with Dr. Brown's lab small logo on it, you cracked a small smile, remembering the story behind it: you and a bunch of other students trying to come up with a nice, thoughtful gift to encourage the guest professor's new interests. When you opened the door, you found a tall, thin man sitting by the computer desk, apparently engrossed until he heard the click of the lock, finding your eyes with equal parts startle and wonder, lips parted gently, surprise etched all over his pretty face.

The young man had innocent, almost bambi-like eyes. It was the first thing you had noticed about him. Staring at you, hazel eyes so expressive that you were sure he could speak through his glance alone.

After the initial surprise, you thought you knew who he was, having heard all about Dr. Brown’s new favorite student and mentee. Spencer Reid, who seemed to study for leisure, deeply intelligent and reliable. No wonder he was in the lab, settling everything so that he would be helpful. It was a faithfully vivid image, much like the one that had settled into your brain when your colleague had described who he was working with.

"Dr. L/N."

"Dr. Reid."

Your unison voices mingled in the air. You walked up to where he was, holding out a hand for him to shake. Dazedly, he stood up, taking your hands in his, which made you smile at him, appreciating his politeness. Spencer, on the other hand, felt frozen.

Whatever it was that he, at some point, imagined you would look like, it was nothing compared to the real thing. All your features seemed to be mathematically, precisely calculated to form one of the most beautiful and soft complexions he had ever laid his eyes upon. You spoke again, no longer blocked by his own voice, so gently that it was almost as if he was being physically touched by your voice. Your accent was not strong, but it was perceptible, something that he attributed to your multilingual abilities. "Sorry to barge in like that. It's nice to meet you. Dr. Brown told me a lot about you," you revealed, still smiling.

"It's okay. Nice to meet you too.” Tongue-tied. He felt illiterate, close to a woman who he was not supposed to have certain types of thoughts around. You breathed out a huff of amusement at his widened eyes.

There was a bit of an awkward silence when you both noticed that none of you had let go of the other's hand yet. With a clear of your throat and his fugitive glance, you both composed yourselves, retreating from your touch. "He said," you started with a chuckle, "and I quote, that you are now his eyes, ears, hands and brain in here. So, beforehand, I want to say that I truly appreciate your support and help." You said, politely, to which he smiled nervously with a shaky nod.

"It's no problem, really. Dr. Brown is one of the greatest here and it'd be naive of me to not accept his request."

You grinned, agreeing. "Yeah, he is a great man. Well, I believe you are more familiar with all the devices than I am." You said, motioning to the set-up behind him. "I do have these back at my university, but yours is a bit different from what I can see. I suppose they work the same way, but, to be honest, I don’t want to mess anything up."

Spencer blinked, scientist mode on full swing. "Yeah, yeah." He nodded, looking at her again. "You don't have to worry, I was just checking the last details before starting the experiments. Everything is already settled, but I can talk you through it if you want to conduct the experiment by yourself at some point.” He trailed. Curiously, he added, “If I may ask, what made you interested in this research?"

Your heart's happiness bursted into sparkles in your eyes as you smiled, glad that he asked you about it. You talked him through it, giving him specific details as he sat and listened like you were the most brilliant brain in the entire world. As you talked, he remembers feeling his lips twitching up in a small smile. Once you were done, encouraged by your honesty and heartfelt explanation, he revealed with a faint dust of pink on his cheeks, "I know. I, um, I searched and read some of your papers last night.”

"Really?" You asked, cordial.

"I try my best to get to know my professors' fields before meeting them. It's a way I found to keep my brain entertained and to get ready for what's coming next." He admitted softly, mentally patting himself on the back for not stuttering.

"That is a good approach. I must say I wish I had that kind of mindset when I was your age."

"It’s okay. You've been doing a great job."

Silence. Understanding from both parts.

"But... to answer your question, I have been really interested in working with language lately, more than usual, at least." You chuckled softly. Spencer couldn't stop his own grin at your enthusiasm, eager to hear your voice.

You agreed once he offered to show you how their device worked, sitting on the chair in front of it. Spencer motioned for you to go ahead and place your chin on the small stand. He took notice of your hands when you placed them on the desk, bitten nails and small, red spots on their edges. It concerned him, but he brushed it off, thinking it could have been a simple nervous habit, knowing he had no business asking or worrying about you. You were his professor, after all. "Whenever I lead this experiment with my students, they always tell me they feel like they are at the ophthalmologist."

Spencer chuckled. "Yeah. It does feel like it. You can't even move an inch."

You followed the instructions on the computer screen so that the device would follow your eye movements. It worked quickly, which made you pleasantly surprised and it was hard to hide it from your tone, "This is faster than any other I have tried before."

"Welcome to our university."

As you worked on the experiment, answering to the commands on the scream silently, the device following your orbs, Spencer took his time to study your features. Your hair was neatly up in a ponytail, dainty earrings adorning your ears that matched your gentle features. All your sharpness, if you had any, was in your eyes. An intense gaze that made him falter a bit, as if his brain had the need to stop for a second to store the sight of your gaze on him to remember it for good. Your movements were calm and collected, and, ironically, you looked rather young to be a doctor.

Once you had finished, you didn't pull away immediately from the device. The computer could no longer pinpoint where your eyes were, because then they were directed at Spencer instead glancing at him as if studying him, taking him in to remember his features like a quote that you knew by heart. As he turned to look at you, he started explaining how to save a volunteer's progress and, honestly, you were only half listening, focusing on his mild mannerisms, voice and use of language. You nodded here and there, absentmindedly storing that information. You two departed after exchanging some more information, mostly him guiding you through the campus, talking about each department and what was the fastest and best way to get to the building you were staying at.

Spencer remembers going home with renewed interest. He couldn't help but think about the way you portrayed yourself, the way you talked and moved, almost as if you were an ethereal being that was placed on Earth by an unfortunate mistake. Even though he had been unable to come up with a face for you last night as he read your thoughts, you had been an enchanting surprise. Unable to stop the thought, he gave it some indulgent room: you would, somehow, be a distraction. And he was crazy to get to know in which way.

A couple days went by without Spencer seeing you. You were quite busy yourself with the lectures you were planning and teaching. That morning, though, he had found you teaching Dr. Brown's previous class. It was surprising, and mildly irritating, to see that the class was the most crowded it had ever been. Taking a good look around and listening to a few comments that bothered him to no end, he found out the reason. Some of them wanted to simply see you. The thought was like being bathed in scorching water. He chose to sit in the front, because he thought, petulant, that you would know and remember his face and his face alone. As you entered the classroom and greeted the students with a warm good morning, you were pleasantly surprised to see Dr. Reid in the front row.

After neatly arranging your belongings on the desk, you started your class on the dot. “Hello, everyone. I am professor L/N and I am here to take over Dr. Brown's class.” You started, voice precisely clear. “Now, I understand that some of your colleagues might be running late for some reason. I don't mind if you are late at some point, but try not to make it a habit because it might disrupt our class. I do tend to start my lectures on the dot in respect to those who managed to get here on time. Today, we will talk about…”

You spoke gently, but you had your boundaries set and clear, which made Spencer squirm a bit. Seeing you so sure of yourself, so assertive, made something stir deep within him. Besides, the dumbstruck look of the many students gave him enough clue that he was not the only one feeling a little affected by you and your ways. As you went on and on about the topic, you gestured with your pretty hands, making smart remarks and cracking some light jokes that made everyone a lot less nervous around you. The new, pretty professor.

The topic, behavior, sounded redundant, at that point, because he had studied that subject over and over again, tiringly, exhaustingly, but there was just something about the way you spoke, about your mannerisms that he couldn't look away. You had a way with words, and he was fascinated by how you managed to make some more complex subjects so understandable to students, even if you sometimes drifted deeper into a certain concept, only to go back to them later. He couldn't even speak. The class was relieved while he was troubled.

“Huh, that's odd. Half of you are not in the roll.” You commented, turning the lights back on. “Is this correct?” You muttered to yourself, afraid that maybe you had the data of another class instead.

A girl suddenly spoke up, “Many of us are auditing.”

“Oh?” You wondered. “How many of you?”

Quickly calculating, Spencer bitterly noticed that about 70% percent of the class raised their hands. He wanted to think that it had to do with the fact that these people weren't around for Professor Brown. You smiled, warmly. It was a punch to the gut. “Well, I hope you enjoyed the lecture.

It was when the students slowly exited the class that he was able to reach you, gathering your papers and looking content. Sharply gentle eyes, impeccable posture and pristine clothes found his gaze and he found that he didn't want to look at anything else. He didn't seem to be ready to have that small heart attack every morning. He felt equal parts of embarrassment and a flutter on his belly. He approached you calmly, and as you greeted him, there was a warm look on your face. "Hi. Good morning, Dr. Reid.”

“You did a great job,” he blurted out, voice a bit strained. You only pretended you didn't notice. “Good morning.” He remembered to greet you back. Nice.

Your voice was low as you muttered a soft "thank you."

"Of course." He said, fiddling with the strap of his bag.

"I never asked... What is your field?” You inquired, curiously, grabbing your bag and walking side by side with him, exiting the room.

Spencer had that answer nearly tattooed on his brain. “I have PhDs in Chemistry, Engineering and Mathematics,” he started, nonchalantly, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I also have a BA in Sociology and Philosophy. This is my third one, Psychology.”

“How old are you?” You blurted out, baffled.

“23. I, uh, I graduated from school at the age of 12.”

You stood there, speechless. Of course you knew that that was possible in some countries, but the casualness in his tone got to you more than his exceptional educational background. “That is… unreal.” You whispered. “You are so young and… and… You are still absorbed with learning.”

He chuckled, shrugging, delighted by your compliment. “Yeah, I guess… Not many people would make the same choices as I would.”

Your entire body froze, including your hidden hand, because his words had hit a particular spot within you. You gave him a nod, agreeing. “Well, it is still impressive.”

“I appreciate it.” He said, looking down and missing the slight dejection on your face. Nevertheless, his heart fluttered at the praise coming from you.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, you started again, “If I may ask, why did you switch from STEM to Humanities?” You asked, now mildly amused as he looked at you, taking the stairs with him to the office. Occasionally, your shoulders brushed.

“Curiosity.”

“Is that all?” You asked, puzzled.

“I was always surrounded with a wide access to books and overall knowledge. My mother was a Literature teacher.” He explained, a small smile gracing his face.

“That must have been nice. You must know a lot about the classics. They are my favorite kind of Literature.”

“They were good distractions, I guess… I wasn't, uh, the most popular kid growing up.” He trailed off.

“Me neither,” you said.

Spencer noticed that you walked with a hand on your pocket, but couldn't say anything about it, too much more focused on the way he seemed to be bathed in a newfound confidence around you. As you reached the office, he quickly placed his belongings on the leather couch by the door. With a low whine of disappointment, which caught your eye, he announced, “If you'll excuse me, I have to get a few books from the library.”

It was better than saying, hey, I was too distracted by you that I forgot that I also have responsibilities.

“Oh, sure. Go ahead. I'll be here.”

“Thanks.”

The door closed with a soft click, and you found yourself all alone again. Taking a look around, you busied yourself by analyzing your surroundings. There was a wall covered by huge, tall, dark shelves, cramped with books. The piece of furniture reached the roof with all sorts of technical literature. A small glass cabinet on the opposite wall showcased trinkets from all over the world, kids drawings and family pictures. A leather couch, cushions and an equally dark wooden desk adorned the room as well. A white light brightened the room, illuminating his titles, and a yellowish one lightened a painting on the wall, made by Dr. Brown's daughter, of the beach they visited frequently. It made you irrationally jealous. The reminder that other people had constant remnants of love was a stab to your chest, and you looked away from the bitter/sweet reminders.

Suddenly, your eyes got a glimpse of Spencer's belongings: technical books, a satchel bag, his coat and a small notebook. You wondered what he would write about in there, whether it was some sort of planner or he just thought out loud on those pages. You fought the urge to touch his stuff, deciding to sit on the couch after shrugging off your coat and laying it close to Spencer's things.

Still plagued by an annoying flicker of envy, you picked your ring, analyzing it with fierce focus between your fingers. The material, white gold, was supposed to adorn your hand for the rest of your life. The only personal thing about it was that it had been custom-made, by demand, just for you. A wedding band was supposed to hold, to be a souvenir of the deepest commitment of love. But as fate would have it, it had been nothing but an object. It held no meaning, since you and your husband easily slid it off when it was convenient.

There was a small date carved on the inside part of the ring. Neither you or Oliver wanted any stronger reminders of each other. To you, he was merely tolerable, and you struggled to feel anything but sorry for him. Despite the fact that you were helplessly coerced into marriage, you despised him for never having the guts of chasing a life, instead busying himself with living the fleeting pleasures that his parents' money provided him, spending his endless vacations overseas, sleeping around. A typical bohemian. A bon-vivant. The fact made you bitter. How does one possess every kind of mean and doesn't care to improve themselves as a person?

Inevitably, you were pulled into a strong stream of memories.

The sun filtered through the curtains, illuminating the dining room that held uncountable and expensive decorations. What caught your eye, though, is a much too long and large table with endless chairs. You remember thinking it was over the top, since neither you or Oliver would plan to have guests over. Swallowing your remarks, you smiled to your father and exchanged a look with your sister-in-law, not bothering to look at Oliver and therefore missing his awestruck look. It was the first time you were visiting the big house with its endless rooms, windows and useless areas. You ignored the subtle meaning of it: you were supposed to carry on your families’ names. The mason had been your parents’ gift, so you decided to stay quiet about it, not commenting on the tacky, outrageous muchness of things. You had learned the hard way not to fight back when it came to their decisions.

From a very young age, you were special. A charming, intelligent, quick-witted child who busied herself with studies and books who had a series of leisure time activities to go through during her free time. Hence, you grew up exceptional. You were always the center of attention somehow; being the first grandkid from both sides of your family granted you a few privileges, you held their entire focus, entertaining them with your particular and curious behavior during their gatherings. Whenever they showed up, your parents would remember some new ability for them to show you off. Playing the piano, chess, languages… You were always in the top of the class, in the best schools, surrounded by kids your age that belonged to the best families.

It was with a deep, heartbreaking sadness that you realized that you had their attention for your potential and everything you could add to their name. Nobody ever played with the first child.

Beautiful, graceful, wistful, clueless little you.

Your family’s connections and endless activities for you had been how you met Oliver in the first place. A smart, easy on the eyes boy who became a smooth talker as he grew older. You were friends from a very young age, but nothing more. You were always too caught up on working on yourself and your abilities in order to charm everyone that romance was something you couldn't even begin to fathom — it was nothing but a strange and distant feeling. You kept things platonic between you and him, spending time, mostly listening. Oliver would tell you all about his interests, and when the age came, he would tell you, rather technically, how his endeavors with other girls went.

You never thought of Oliver as more than a friend. In fact, his manners grew to annoy you, like a small barb in your shoe, if you were totally honest — not that you would dare to. You simply endured his existence, saving your reviles for yourself, because, growing up, you never knew what it was to freely express yourself. How lacking it was to grow up not knowing what it was to speak your mind freely without a strong reprimand of some sort.

Such painful dawnings had only taken place at the age of 20, when your parents and Oliver's had agreed to marry the both of you. Unable to fight back, you simply watched it happen. It was so damaging and traumatic that you could barely remember the times you had spent together, everything was just a big knot of confusing memories to which you felt more like an spectator than an actor. Over the course of the years, Oliver and you would make public appearances, but you had told him, on the first night after your marriage, that he was free to do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't ruin your image. No. Not the one you had dedicated your entire life building.

Throughout the entire thing, your sister-in-law had been your anchor. A distant one, that sits in the bottom of the sea, as you navigated through your own life. Being too close to you was a sad reminder of your situation and she was aware of that. She had her friends and connections, unknowingly, check on you, though. She was all in for pretending her sad excuse of a brother didn't exist. Theresa and Oliver were polar opposites: a hard-working woman and a sluggish man.

Eventually, as you both moved through the world, engrossed in your true passions, Oliver had truly found someone. Someone you didn't bother learning the name of. Someone, you preferred to think, that didn't know about you and that if she did, she truly didn't care. The feeling was mutual. You, on the other hand, delved deeper into your studies, busying yourself to the fullest. It was nice, in a way, because that way, you were shielding yourself from the world and your inevitable, eternal struggle of a loveless life in the only way you knew how: through being someone.

It was far from a solution, but that's where it ended. It had been years since the last time you heard your name coming from someone else's lips. You didn't dream of it happening anytime soon. You didn't let it happen, anyway. Every advance was cut before it turned into expectations.

A small gasp erupting between your lips broke you out of your reverie when you heard the lock being harshly handled, which made you bolt straight to the door, dropping the ring on the floor. Opening it, you saw Spencer struggling to balance a huge pile of books and a tray with two cups of coffee. He thanked you softly when you offered to help him, your skin touching his briefly, jolts of something unknown coursing through both of your bodies. Pulling away, you placed the books on the desk, searching his eyes as he blushed like crazy.

“I got you coffee… I don't know how you take it, so I got it black with two sugars. There are many options these days, which can make choosing one a challenging decision, since there are undeniable and endless possibilities of you being allergic to some of the ingredients. Of course, there are also chances of cross-contamination. Now that I think about it, I should have probably gotten you tea. Oh, my God. Do you even drink coffee?” He finished, almost panting.

You stifled out a laugh. His ways were endearing. “It's okay, Dr. Reid. I'll drink it. I'm not allergic nor prefer tea over coffee. Okay?”

“Okay.” He said, puppy eyes finding yours again.

“Thank you, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He said, smiling softly.

It quickly turned into your go-to order.

—

Students came and went, and you made conversation with them, which made you all the more endearing for Spencer. You asked about their day, how they ended up there, and you looked genuinely interested in their answers. It could be a stretch, but Spencer felt that, much like himself, you wanted to make connections — but not the professional kind. You wanted to belong somewhere, from the way your eyes held an intimate and unwavering hint of sadness when you heard their answers, but none of them had the nerve to ask you back. It was expected, though, because no one would think of a professor as a friend. The entire time, you were being addressed as such or as Dr.. You couldn't blame them. That was who you were, too lost in that character to remember who you actually were. If you had been someone, that is.

As Spencer sat behind the computer, ready to access today's tests, you chatted with a freshman student. Glancing at the clock, the girl with excited mannerisms almost shrieked, “Oh, my God! Is it that late already?! I have to go to my piano class.”

“Sorry to hear that,” you said, sounding a bit deflated. “It was nice to meet you, Dana. I'm really happy you've helped us.”

“Anytime, professor! Bye!” She said, walking through the door and closing it behind her.

You turned to Spencer, a hint of longing in your expression. “Are you leaving as well?”

“Not yet. I want to go over our results for the day.”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, approaching him to lean by his side on the desk, supporting your weight on one arm as your other hand touched the back of his chair. He could smell your perfume, something uniquely different, aromatic and so fitting. “Does it compare results automatically?” You asked, turned to look at him.

“Unfortunately, no,” he muttered, unfocused, eyes scanning all over your face, focusing especially on your lips. “I have to do that myself, which is why I'll take longer to leave. If we leave this for the last minute, it'll be much more stressful.”

“Slow and steady it is, then.” You said, grinning. “I'll stay to help you.”

—

Spencer remembers when he started feeling a lot stronger about you.

You were in the office, decorating it as your own. Spencer took notice of your belongings, trying to catch a glimpse of everything that made you yourself. There were abundant novels in many different languages filling the tall shelves, some souvenirs from different parts of the world, your titles… The analytic part of his brain took notice of the lack of family pictures and overall personal items. It was achingly professional and distant, the way you were setting your space. He couldn't help but chime in, “Is that all you're putting up?”

With a lopsided grin, you tried to justify, sensing his intentions. “I don't like cluttering.”

He didn't answer, sensing that it might be sensitive unknown territory. You unboxed a wood chess board, placing it on one of the bottom shelves. He looked at you, a silent question in his eyes. “Just in case someone wants to play,” you said, as you forced a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

The next day, Spencer walked through the office door with a box in hands. He hid it between the sofa and the wall. As you arrived, you talked briefly about the research, which was now coming to an end. Flopping down on the floor, crisscrossed and barefoot, you sighed, smiling as he updated you. “You know, I don't think I've ever been happier.”

“Yeah?” He asked, curiously.

“It almost feels unreal, how kind life's been to me lately.” You revealed, voice trembling a bit with emotion.

“Somehow, that's hard to believe.”

“Is that so?” You asked, playfully. Spencer had to swallow before your mischievous smile. A new expression on your face that he found that he quite liked.

“I mean, look around. You have everything some people think it takes to be happy.”

“You're right. Some people. I don't.” You retorted with a dip of your chin.

“What would make you happy, then?” He inquired, eager to find out. To become it.

You breathed in, closing your eyes. “I'll let you know once I figure it out.”

Should he say it? Would it be indelicate? Insensitive? Too much? Too straightforwa— “You sound a little hopeless.”

“Maybe I am.” You said, almost shrugging. Like it's not a big deal.

“You shouldn't be.” He retorted, sitting down in front of you.

“What makes you so certain?”

“You're young.”

“If anything, that only feeds despair, to some extent.” You said, distantly.

Internal battle at full extent, once again. “You know… I… I have been keeping an eye on you.”

You tilt your head the slightest bit, gaze unwavering. “What do you mean?”

Spencer struggled to form coherent thoughts, to articulate his own ideas before blurting them out rather excitedly. “You seem so… different. It's almost like you're out of this world. It's fascinating, actually. You're very deep in your own little world. Even the way you speak tells something about loneliness. So well, eloquently—”

“Susan Sontag.”

He smiled, satisfied. “See? How would you remember a quote by heart if your mind was filled with some things else?”

Against your will, you agreed. “You're right, Dr. Reid.”

Silence. He stood up, walking to grab the box behind the couch. He came back and sat in front of you once again, but this time, his knee brushed yours and neither of you mentioned it. You welcomed the warmth. Spencer hid the one coloring his cheeks. “Call me Spencer.”

“What is that?”

“Flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“You need some life around here.”

You giggled, absolutely delighted when you saw the box, containing an orchid Lego set. Spencer fought against his every instinct to just pull you into his arms at the sound that twisted his insides instantaneously. It was the first time he had heard you laugh, a rich, funny sound that seemed to have erupted from your own soul. “Is this for me? Because, you know, this might be the best thing I've ever gotten.”

“Oh, really?” He asks, feigning sarcasm. “I could've sworn it was the original piece on your wall.”

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“You're welcome.”

Despite your position, your posture was as elegant as it had ever been. He placed the pieces between the two of you. Eventually and almost silently, like a personal prayer, he learned how to call you by your name upon your insistence. With a soft look in his eye, he relented. Everything about him seemed to tell you that he was there to help you build the set. That it was alright, because he was there.

You two stood up, one at a time, once you had finished the set. Standing by the window, you glanced at the pretty plastic orchids that now were placed on your desk, right next to your name, a funny little piece amidst such a formal environment. He followed you after a brief moment of doubt. “You know, Spencer,” you uttered and he thought he might be addicted to the chain of sounds that makes up his name falling from your lips as he watched them, mesmerized. “Thank you so much for this. It's a nice feeling. Like I have a friend.”

You both shared the intimacy of a glance with each other. You decided to elaborate, too shaken by the thought of your loneliness being palpable. “You're right… I've always been a bit on the lonely side.”

He was pleased to see so much honesty from your end, and happy to see something of himself in you. He swallowed, trying to control these thoughts and keeping his composure. “I think you're very easy to get along with.”

“That's the first time I hear that.”

Spencer couldn't help the wince that came with the stabbing pain he felt at your revelation. “It's true. I…” Who are these people? “I think you're very easy to like.”

You thanked him again, quietly, lowering your gaze to the space between the two of you. Seemingly under a spell that had been casted by the way you let your guard down, ignoring the nervous pit on his stomach and not taking the time to process the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings running through him. You stood so close, if he could just— “Looking from up here, all people look so tiny.”

“Considering the extent of the universe, we are pretty tiny.”

You snorted, shaking your head softly. “Proportion changes perspective, huh, Spencer?”

Losing control over his words, utterly lost, he continued, “I also… I find you pretty… pretty.”

Your eyes glanced up to meet his. Spencer tried to read your expression, desperate to see if you were surprised, disgusted, uncomfortable or if you welcomed his words. Instead, he found a hint of longing in your eyes that he couldn't begin to understand. “I… I don't know what to say.”

Compliments were a sensitive, unknown territory for you. You only knew what these were if you outdone yourself in whatever earned you attention. Sighing, you looked at him, almost guilty.

“Sorry, I… I shouldn't have said anything.” He cringes, avoiding your gaze.

“It… It wasn't.” Deep breath. “It's just that… you're…”

Were there words in the English language for these feelings?

“I know. I didn't… I don't expect you to say anything in return,” he says, almost dejectedly. The truth is out and he can't take it back. “I just wanted to come clean. And I think that it's not just looks that draw me to you.”

You stood there, speechless.

“You're not mad? Or… or offended?” He tries.

You looked at his widened, scared eyes. It made you want to soothe him — the instinct disconnecting your mouth from any sense of ethics or decency that ran through your brain. Taking another deep breath, scared to death, “I’m actually flattered. You're a very beautiful person, inside and out, but… but… I'm your professor, Spencer, and older than you.” You said, voice wavering slightly as you got to look into his eyes again.

“Somehow… when I think about you… neither of these seem to be a problem. I can't—not think about you.”

His words crafted a small crack. There would forever be a memory in your brain of the exact same moment when his words settled in. You fell to pieces, and as you did, you felt yourself losing control of your own actions, of your sense of ethics or principles. Before you thought it through, as you felt every sense of reason leaving your body, you tilted your head up, a silent, welcoming consent of his lessening distance. Spencer, who looked almost pained with so much want, let out tiny puffs of breath as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He couldn't believe you were seemingly taking a risk like that, but he found that he couldn’t and didn't want to hold back any longer. The young man, very carefully, cradled your cheeks, bravely holding your glance as he caressed the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb. Time stood still when you closed your eyes, slowly, and he tilted your chin up the slightest bit, angling you just the way he needed. The touch, the existence of you was so intense and overwhelming that it made him shiver, and he was failing to keep his hands from shaking. Following the stream of whispered truths, you added, “I want to give you something to truly think about. I need your permission.”

Softly, Spencer brushed his lips against yours as he closed his eyes. It was gentle, tentative, almost experimental. The touch, albeit subtle, calmed his every nerve, and his shoulders relaxed at the contact. A shaky exhale left his lips when you pulled him in, placing your hand on the nape of his neck, the feeling grounding and safe. When your lips interlock together, it's a moment of realization; he doesn't think that he wanted something so badly without even knowing what it actually was.

Your touch is tender, as if you were both afraid that harshness would steal one from the other, relishing in the moment and in the rush of sensations that were unknown to the both of you. Spencer was so afraid that you were going to pull away and run, but he just couldn't control himself as he slid his tongue into your mouth, basking in the small satisfied sound that you made, his hands gripping your waist. You, on the other hand, felt as if you had been pushed into a sea of hot, scalding water. No touch had ever made you feel like that, and your desperation had you now tightly gripping at his vest, trying to get him impossibly closer to you. Your bodies pressed against each other set a trail of fire between the two of you, and the kiss gradually became more urgent. Violent, even.

When you pull back, he doesn't let you go far, his face only inches away, barely registering that you actually needed to breathe so great was his need to feel you against him once more. Panting, you leaned your forehead against his, not ready to open your eyes and see his face. You'd be lost.

“At least now I have something proper to think about.”

Flustered at him using your own words against you, you couldn't meet his gaze. You tried to say something, but all the courage pumping through your veins seemed to have found a way out of your system, leaving you helpless, utterly defeated into silence. A small feeling of guilt started to grow inside you, and you were warring against it. You had just kissed a student in your workplace when you were trying to have a fresh start. Spencer, noticing your turmoil, was quick to engulf you in a hug. The action, so simple, worked like a balm to your nerves, and you allowed yourself to take a deep breath, inhaling his scent, which had just become your favorite. You didn't want to let him go, neither did you know if you would ever be able to.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, he cradles the back of your head. Under the sofa, lies a small, shiny object that was long forgotten due to both its irrelevance in your life and the first moment of genuine affection you've ever experienced.

—

You remember how it felt like to lose control of yourself.

It had been days since the secret kiss you shared with Spencer and it had been the last time you saw him. Your days were filled with endless phone calls with lawyers and Theresa, desperate to find yourself free from your doom excuse of a… marriage? It seemed offensive to even relate that word to whatever you had been forced upon doing. Your nights were spent by your bedroom window, watching as people came and went, noticing with heartbreak how distant you seemed to be from everyone. You were a stranger in many ways, but above all, you were a stranger to yourself. Every little manifestation of action or thought made you inevitably remember all the people and their behavior that shaped you into whatever you are today.

And then there was Spencer. Spencer, whose touch was making you feel constantly equal parts guilty and entranced. Spencer, who was spamming your email inbox, wondering where you were. Spencer, who was the only person you truly allowed yourself to think about. The sight of him haunted your nights and the ghost of his voice echoed inside your head when you were sitting around in the empty studio. It was supposed to be refreshing, really, how his mere existence made a new flicker of hope bloom in your chest that had been unknown thus far. It was bold to call it hope, but you preferred to do that because there was no other word, no other feeling that you knew well enough to associate it with the memory of him.

You had forgotten the sound of your voice. The only thing your apartment walls heard in the time span of three days and three nights had been the following string of words:

“Theresa, are you there? Can we talk?”

—

Spencer remembers how it felt to miss you like a lost puzzle piece.

It had been days and your silence was upsetting him like nothing ever had. Sick of replaying that moment over and over, he decided to find you instead. It was late at night as he walked your street after pondering whether he should or not confront you about your silence. There wasn't much to discuss. It was just a kiss — secretly, he was scared that you would argue so —, but the lack of news from you had him feeling on edge. A tall building, endless windows. On the fifth floor, he could make a figure staring out into the city, and he couldn't begin to explain where the strength came from to run up to where you were. There was only one apartment per floor, so he knocked impatiently on your door.

501.

Upon hearing the sound, you stared, a bit scared, at the door. Opening a small slit, you saw him and your entire body froze. You closed it immediately, fear etched into your features as if he was an impending threat. As if he could cause you any harm.

“Please,” he cried, resting his forehead on the door. He tried not to compare the stiffness of the object to the softness of your skin. A clear of his throat. “Please. Nobody's seen you for days. I… I haven't seen you in days.”

There was a minute of mortifying silence, but he decided to wait. What was another moment if he had waited for you for so long? Spencer let out another plea, this time, calling you by your name.

You let him in, but you couldn't meet his gaze. Nevertheless, he noticed your bloodshot eyes. Speaking your name softly, he inquired, worryingly, approaching you. “What happened to you?”

You took a small step back, straightening your posture once you realized how close he was getting to you. The action made your heart shatter. “Don't,” you pleaded, soft-spoken as ever.

“Look at me.” He croaked, pleadingly, timorous.

Reluctantly, you met his eyes. They were confused, questioning, and it was a first on his expression. You felt guilty for doing this to him. “I can't do this to you, Spencer. I can't.”

“Please… Talk to me. Don't shut me out.”

“We can't do this. I'm your professor, and, and…”

“Are you seriously pulling the professor card? I'm not one of those undergraduate students. I'm me. It's me. We've been so close and when I think something finally might happen, you disappeared. It wasn't fair.”

Each of his words were stabs in your already hanging by a thread heart. Rip the band-aid.

“I'm married.”

There was a moment of stunned silence from his end. You knew how cruel it was to use your formal marital state to avoid him from coming any closer, but you tried not to dwell on it. This was it. Spencer deserved better. And for the first time in your life, you couldn't be better. His silence made your stomach churn painfully, aware of the ache you were causing him, and desperate to be the one to soothe the damage you had done.

Spencer, on the other hand, stared at you blankly. Almost skeptically, even. You'd have analyzed it better if you weren't too busy with your own turmoil about him. “I don't see him anywhere,” he finally said, defiantly.

Surprise took over your features, and before you could form another painful remark, Spencer approached you decisively. “Where is him, huh?”

Cutting you off as you opened your mouth to speak, once again, he scowled. “Damn him. I would do anything just to have you around.”

The crack was now big enough that he could see all parts of you from where he stood. Right then, though, the glimpse he caught before you violently smashed your lips against his was enough to haunt him for a lifetime. Your gaze, so utterly tired yet determined, looking at him as if he was the only thing in your entire world — perhaps he was. The kiss was demanding, fueled by sheer animalistic hunger. You had been hungry your entire life, deprived of the simplest pleasures and there he was, ignoring all your lackness. You failed to think of a motive for his actions, but you decided that you utterly didn't care. To feel seen like that was enough of a reason for you.

His tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring every inch with a neediness that surprises even him. You gripped at his shirt's collar as his hands tangled in your hair, tightly, almost afraid you'd disappear. Neither of you recognized your own actions, everything was far too new for you to know how to act properly, losing yourself in each other, consumed by the unique, addicting taste of your kisses and the heat building between you. The sizzling, almost bothersome feeling in your core, combined with the intensity of his kiss left you feeling lightheaded. He pulls away, reluctantly, squeezing his eyes shut, as if refraining from doing something. You rest your forehead against his. Uneven breaths mingle together as you had your eyes on him, waiting for the final blow, when he would look back at you. “Let me in,” he croaked. “I wanna be yours.”

Don't.

“You deserve so much more than this. Than what I'm able to offer you,” you whisper in a ragged breath, closing your eyes, hands now softly holding his head.

“I'll take anything you are.”

You winced, a helpless crease finding its way between your brows. “You don't get it, do you? I can't. I can't do this to you. I don't know how to do this.”

He softened, hands never leaving your skin and eyes never leaving yours. “You don't have to know anything. I don't know it either. I just wanna be yours tonight.”

Silence.

“Is it because of him?”

You promptly retorted. “No. It's not because of him.”

“From now on, it's me.”

Spencer crashed his lips to yours, barely giving you time to let his words sink in. Seemingly trying to convey his emotions, his willingness to beg for you to let him in, his devotion to be yours in that moment. Brushing your fear of not getting him to stay, you gave in, too blinded by the sheer strength of the burning within you. Spencer kissed you deeper as you slid your tongue inside his mouth, ravishing and relishing in the taste of him. A small moan broke through you when he gripped your tighter, leading you to the nearest surface — conveniently, the bed. Spencer barely had time to take in his surroundings when he got there, too busy with you and the strong pull between the two of you, but his body unconsciously and seemingly knew exactly where to take yours.

You had now entered a land reserved for only the two of you. You looked at him, softly placing you on the bed, kissing all over you, as if you were something worth looking at, worth worshipping. The tears streamed down your face freely, and he kissed each of them as they bloomed again. “Let it all out. I'm here.”

Intertwining your fingers on the nape of his neck, adjusting so that he was between your legs, you looked at him intently while he lowered the straps of your cami top, eyes never leaving yours, lips caressing your collarbone gently. The action made you shiver, and you were under his trance, taking whatever he wanted to give you, signaling over and over that you allowed him to be yours, just like he asked to be. In hindsight, he was making you his.

Gingerly, you leaned up to reach his jawline, kissing and nipping at the soft skin, trying to find an outlet for all the overwhelming feelings and fire inside you. He moaned softly, basking in the feeling of being marked so gently, already satisfied with the mere thought that he would have something of yours to remember. It was when you were undoing his shirt, not so accidentally brushing your fingertips against his fiery skin that a wave of pleasure, embedded with a persistent feeling of guilt, crawled its way into your thoughts. You were like a helpless being caught between the fight of two violent ends, and you found that you loved it. You loved being at their mercy. You loved being at his mercy.

Quickly getting rid of your top, Spencer leaned even lower, brushing his skin against yours, which elicited a series of goosebumps to erupt on your skin. You clenched your hands after retreating them from his body, desperately trying to find something that could ground you instead of feeling everything all at once. He was overwhelming, and he had barely touched you. “I never knew I could feel like this,” you breathed out, unable to keep the truth from him any further when he skimmed his fingertips against your ribs, touching with the most desperate of delicacies.

Grinding against you, he whispered, rushed, “Do you feel how much I want you? I see you and I want you. Let me in.”

Spencer's words, albeit simple, were hitting many unreached places within you. Without breaking eye contact and a bit clumsily, you two got rid of the remnants of your clothes, baring yourselves to each other in more ways than one. Spencer, still accommodated between your legs, eased himself so easily into you, making you hold on tightly to his arms, you two both letting out strangled noises at the feeling. You, beneath him, around him, enveloping his length in the most pleasant wet warmth, sucking him in, gripping, squeezing, never letting him go. A broken sob erupted as he mumbled, “I missed you so much.”

You could barely find your voice, too lost in the sense of him on top of you. The taste, the sight, the smell of him inebriated you like no drug ever could. “Ah—I missed you too,” you whimpered. “You… have no idea.”

“Show me, then.”

Desperately, you pulled him in for another searing kiss, trying to convey how much his absence had made you feel, how guilty you felt by putting what it felt then like an unnecessary distance between the two of you. Trying to get closer, impossibly closer than you ever had been before. The sensations were shattering, and you found that you didn't want to be put together again. No, you were gladly ruined for the rest of your life. Scratches down his back, bites on his lower lip and an endless stream of whimpers left your lips complemented the exhilarating experience as he watched how you reacted to him.

Lowering your gaze to where your bodies met, you were met with an exquisite sight, how he pulled away just to shove his cock back inside you making you dizzy as he had his way with you. Following your line of sight, Spencer moaned as he saw the mess between you two, how his skin began to stick to yours as your arousal glimmered on his skin. Fully sheathed again, you cried out, “There's—mmmm—so much of you in me.”

“Will you remember me?” He asked, resuming his thrusts, violently shaken by your words. He wanted to give you all of him.

Struggling to speak, your entire body trembling with the force of his strokes, you stuttered, “I could never forget you.”

His hips halt their movements. He asks, pointedly, with a stark gaze that burned its memory into your very soul, "Say you'll remember," he whimpered with a small sigh. It was difficult to tell if it was from neediness, impatience, frustration or anything else.

It was not the time for semantics, but you smiled despite yourself as the tears started to to steadily roll down your cheeks, and you replied with a shaky breath, "I'll remember you forever."

Spencer pushed in again, swallowing the strangled moan that left your lips as he kissed you intensely and your tears kissed his cheek as well. Your bodies embraced one another, as if they needed each other to exist. The moon and the sea. You tried to hold on to him, hands curling against the skin of his back and legs circling around his waist. Spencer, on the other hand, had a desperate hold on your waist, which would probably lead to faint marks of his fingers. You found that you didn't care, the astounding feeling of him against you, so forcefully and simultaneously lovingly, could use all the memories to tell you later it had been real. That you had been yours as much as you had been his that night.

The pleasure building within you was new, almost scary given its force to shake everything inside. Spencer was equally reeling, trying to prolong the moment as much as he could, too caught up on the existence of you to let it go anytime soon. With a mewl of his name, you let go, pleasure coursing through your veins and spreading through your body like being bathed by the sultriness of your moment together. The fever reached your heart, and with tearful eyes, you watched him as he released inside of you, eyes dazedly searching yours and his lips singing your name like a prayer.

On top of you, in that place of sheer veneration, your bodies tangled together like an abstract painting. Neither you or him made mention to move, too content in the feeling of sticking to the other.

"I'm not leaving,” he muttered after a while, nuzzling your neck.

"Spencer..."

"I'm not leaving. You'll wake up in the morning and I'll be here.”

—

Tonight, you aren't watching strangers from the windows of your office nor from the ones in your studio apartment. Instead, you are walking home with Spencer, hand holding hand, a firm, fierce, steady grip that never faltered.

You now exist, hearing your name being called several times a day. And so does he, the one proudly uttering said name, whenever he gets the chance. A small, simple reminder that you belong together.

dividers by @cafekitsune <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #cm fanfic #dr spencer reid #mgg

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astrolook · 14 hours ago

Text

The First Lord in Different Houses: Your Personal Astrology Adventure! 🌟

Grab your chart, get comfy, and let's dive into the First Lord and how it impacts your identity. Whether you're the life of the party or the secret genius, this is where the magic happens, and honestly, it's kind of hilarious too. 😜

First Lord in the 1st House

You walk into a room, and everyone knows you’re there—there’s no hiding.

Confidence is your middle name, and you never miss a chance to strut your stuff.

You are an introvert’s worst nightmare!

Independent? Yeah, you invented it.

People say, “Look at them go!”... and you say, “Yeah, I know, I’m fabulous.”

First Lord in the 2nd House

You might lowkey feel like a walking bank account sometimes (it’s okay, you’ve got the swagger).

Money, possessions, and fine dining—that’s your love language.

Your idea of a good time? Maybe buying a new shiny thing or investing in something ‘important’.

A strong connection to your self-worth... and your credit score.

You get really excited about sales. Like, really excited.

First Lord in the 3rd House

Conversations? Oh, you’re always ready for one. And you’re the one leading it.

Your brain is like a Google search engine: full of random knowledge and probably some memes.

You could talk a dog into believing it’s a cat, and they’d never know the difference.

Restless much? Thought so. You’re onto the next idea before the first one’s finished.

Social media’s best friend—wait, is that a notification?

First Lord in the 4th House

You’re basically the “mom friend”—making everyone’s home feel cozy and safe.

Family gatherings are your jam (but only because you secretly judge everyone’s cooking).

Your vibe? “My house, my rules, but I’ll let you have a snack.”

You might look for a place to hide from the chaos and recharge... hello, couch naps!

Your home feels like a warm hug—and you give really good hugs.

First Lord in the 5th House

Drama? You’re probably starring in it (or at least watching it from the front row).

Flirting is your second language—don’t even try to resist.

You’re the life of the party, even if it’s just your dog and a Netflix marathon.

Hobbies? Well, they’re more like passions that take up all your time.

You’ll probably try to make everything a competition. “Who can make the best TikTok?”—Spoiler alert: It’s you.

First Lord in the 6th House

You love a good routine, but only because it means you’re in control.

Your daily mantra: “I’m not stressed, I’m busy—there’s a difference.”

Healthy eating? Absolutely. Just as long as it’s also fun (kale smoothies and 12-step meal prepping, anyone?).

You might accidentally become a perfectionist because, well, why not?.

You can’t relax until everything’s in place. Spoiler: It’s never in place.

First Lord in the 7th House

Relationships are your thing—friendship, romance, business partnerships, you name it.

You need a partner in crime—someone to do life with.

You’ll be the diplomat in any situation: “Let’s just all get along, okay?”

It’s not “me,” it’s we. You’re practically the CEO of Teamwork.

You thrive on validation from others—but hey, who doesn’t love a little support now and then?

First Lord in the 8th House

You’re that one person who probably has a secret collection of ancient texts—or at least watches a lot of true crime documentaries.

Deep transformation is your thing—your emotional rollercoaster has no brakes.

You have a knack for digging into other people’s deepest fears... or maybe just for figuring them out.

You’ll never shy away from a good existential crisis. Isn’t life just a series of changes?

You live for the intense, the mysterious, and, of course, the taboo.

First Lord in the 9th House

Wanderlust is your middle name—you’ll plan a trip to the other side of the world just because.

Your mind is always soaring above the clouds—metaphorically, of course.

You’re a fan of philosophy, and you probably have a shelf full of “deep” books that you’ll talk about for hours.

You think big, dream big, and might just try to change the world (at least your corner of it).

If you haven’t been to at least three countries, are you even living?

First Lord in the 10th House

You’re here to make a mark, and the world is your stage (just don't forget your best performance).

Career is serious business for you—but you’ll look fabulous doing it, of course.

Your reputation? Oh, it’s everything. You’ll take great care of that.

People might ask you what you do, and you’ll casually drop your “BOSS” vibes.

You’re the leader, the boss, the go-getter. They just haven’t realized it yet.

First Lord in the 11th House

You’re always looking toward the future—Hey, have you seen that next big thing?

Your friendships are everything, but don’t expect small talk. It’s all about big dreams and world-changing ideas.

You’re the social butterfly, flitting between events and people... but deep down, you’re a visionary.

If you’re not organizing a group project, are you even living?

You can totally turn any group into a movement—don't underestimate your powers.

First Lord in the 12th House

Solitude is your best friend—you probably thrive on some alone time... okay, a lot of alone time.

You’ve got that “mysterious vibe” going—people aren’t sure if you’re an enigma or a guru.

Spiritual awakenings? You have all the answers, but you don’t always share them.

You might be a secret healer, helping others in ways no one will ever know.

Boundaries? You prefer to merge with the universe, thanks.

Feeling curious about how each House Lord affects your identity and life journey? 🌠

Message me for a complete astrology reading / synastry compatibility reading, and let’s unlock the hidden secrets of your chart together! 📩

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Get my full PDF guide for just $5! Payment via PayPal. Once payment is confirmed, I will send you the PDF. It covers North Node & South Node in signs & houses, who you were in your past life, your career, family, love and your relationships in detail. Message me to grab your copy! 🌟

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thevoidscreams · 3 days ago

Note

Could you write something about Vulkan? Preferably smut. I love this loving and massive super-human :3

Year 2 day 1

warning: smut and Vulkan being the GOAT (I love him so much)

Also the emperor being a good dad. Which is shocking. I know.

Word count:2966

'I heard that she's the wife of a primarch' 'she doesn't look like anything special to me' 'How long have they been married? and not a single child to be seen.. odd wouldn't you say?' 'Really it's an embarrassment that the emperor's own son would marry someone so.. common. There's nothing special about the girl at all.'

Your hand clenched around the stem of your glass as you tried to ignore the whispering around you. High Lords and nobles mingled or fought for the attention of your husband or brother's in law.

Vulkan was engaged in a very lively debate about something or another with his brother Ferrus, who seemed as though he would much rather be having the conversation anywhere but there.

Well that was certainly a mood, everything about this "party" blew, and not in a fun way. Why were they even having this party? Was it a celebration? A birthday maybe? Fuck if you knew, it just seemed like a prerequisite anytime more than two primarchs were back on Terra.

"You do not seem to be having a very good time." The speaker had come up behind you, which shocked you, you hadn't noticed anyone approaching. "Oh yeah, I'm not big on-" your voice faltered as you finished turning and saw the Emperor and two of his custodial retinue behind him. He was the height of an above average man at the moment and he was smiling down at you with a knowing sort of expression. "S-sorry, I um, I didn't mean any offense by that."

"It is alright, you are not required to be overjoyed by every gathering you attend. And I too admit that I would rather be elsewhere. But it is not a good look politically to decline every invitation."

"No, I suppose not." You smiled, and his demeanor shifted to a more fatherly one. It was hard to describe how exactly he did it, but suddenly the air between you both was far more at ease and comfortable.

"How have you been finding your marriage to my son?" You hadn't spoken in a few years, not since the wedding, so the question didn't surprise.

"Well, when he isn't actively campaigning or forging or teaching his sons, I must say I've never been happier. He is a wonderful man and I love him so much." You explained. The Emperor nodded and smiled. "I imagine you must be lonely when he is away." He supposed. "Sometimes, but his sons are good company and I always feel safe when they are around."

"Good, that is good." He seemed thoughtful. "Have you considered sons or daughters of your own?"

Luckily you hadn't had any drink in your mouth or you might have spit all over him as the suddenness of his question struck you.

"We've talked about it. I have no opposition to it, neither does he." You explained. "It's just that he's been rather busy and we haven't had much time recently." Your cheeks felt hot and it wasn't the drink causing it, that was for sure.

"I see. Perhaps he should take some time then, he has been doing well and I do believe he has earned it."

"Goodness, that would be nice, but I fear nothing short of you ordering it of him would take him from his work. He's so dedicated and there is so much expected of him."

Your father in law seemed to digest the words and nodded. "Well then, the hour is getting late and it is about time I start seeing my guests off. Would you like an escort to see you back to your room when you are done with socializing?" He motioned to the Custodes to his left and you fought back a gasp.

"Oh, no, thank you really, but I'm sure they have more important things to do than look after a grown woman."

His smile softened a shade and he placed a hand on your shoulder. "You are married to my son, that makes you my daughter now, that makes you a very important individual. It would not be out of line to assign one to you to see you safely across the palace."

Well, it seemed the decision had been made for you as he made a brief motion to the golden clad warrior and bid you farewell, leaving the custodian to watch over you. Though the armored giant didn't say anything as they took their post beside you.

Vulkan had concluded his conversation with his brother when he felt drawn to the other side of the room. Most of the guests had trickled out by now, very few were left, but he was delighted to see his father had remained. Motioning his son over, the primarch did as his father bid, going to his side. "Father, I am glad to have a moment with you. How have you been."

"Well, but there is a matter of importance that I wish to speak of with you."

The looming presence behind you was as intimidating as it was protective. Even if you knew the way back and knew that the palace was likely the safest place in the whole universe, the Emperor had ordained it and thus you had another very large guard keeping you safer than imaginable. They preceded you into the room, checked it and then allowed you in before standing guard outside the door.

'Stay on post with her until Vulkan returns.' Was the silent order they had received and so it would be.

The primarch of the Salamanders did not return for almost two hours. Well into the midnight hour. He greeted the custodian as he entered. Shutting the doors behind him and locking them.

Rousing from your sleep at the sound you were glad to see the man you loved so dearly. "Vulkan, my dragon, I missed you."

He chuckled as he disrobed and joined you in bed, kissing the top of your head. "I was gone but a few hours my flame." His strong arms pulled you atop his body and he peppered your face with kisses. "I know, but it was still too long."

His smile could have melted the ice of a frozen death world. It was so warm.

"My father pulled me aside after the party." He explained, which caught your interest.

"I see, is everything alright?"

"He has taken me from my duties to the crusade. There are other matters he wishes me to attend." His hands slide down over your hips.

"Really? That's so odd, I was just joking earlier that the only way you could be taken away from your duties in the crusade would be if he had ordered it."

Vulkan hummed, his hands gliding up to squeeze your ass. "Yes," he rumbled against your throat, "what do you think he took me off active duty for?"

His words sent a jolt down your spine and a bloom of heat between your thighs.

His lips worked over the tender flesh there, kissing and sucking as he grinds his hips up into you.

"Apparently I am to tend to my needy little flame, and I am not to return to duty until we have a little spark of our own." His voice deepened in the way it only ever did when he was giving an order or intensely aroused.

"And since I have you here and you're awake now," his hardened length pressed to your entrance as he continued to flex his hips. "I figure now is as good a time as any to get started."

"My love~" his fingers quested down to begin preparing your body for him. The warm press of his finger against your already wet hole made you shiver. He rubbed tight circles as he adjusted his cock just so his every movement would grind it against your clit.

"Fuck, Vulkan, I need more."

He smiled and continued his slow torture. "Why rush, we have all night?" He replied, his teeth worried little trails of his love into the flesh of your shoulder. You knew you'd have marks to show for it later.

"Please, Vulkan, please!" You begged as the pad of his finger pressed in slightly but pulled away again.

"Are you sure? After such a long day I figure you'd need some time to unwind before anymore rigorous activities. Why not let me take care?"

You whined in response as his thick drooling cock pressed just right and made your hips reflexively jerk. "Throne damn it Vulkan. Please, I need you. I've needed you all day and especially during that stupid party."

Vulkan shifted, he raised his hand to lift your chin so he could look at your face properly.

"What happened?" His tone was serious, his burning eyes searching your face for any signs of harm, but he only found upset.

"Just nobles being stupid." You sighed but the biting words that tore you down still rung in your mind despite how hard you tried to push them out.

"It's nothing, I just.. I'm being too sensitive about it."

He shook his head. "No, tell me, I will see that this is handled. What did they say to you."

"That's just it, they didn't say it to me. At least not to my face, they didn't all their tearing down behind my back, but I could still hear them."

Vulkan kissed your cheeks. "What did they say?" He asked again, more gently this time.

You knew you had to tell him now, and so you did, all the shallow and awful comments. You felt like a child again, tattling to the teacher when the other kids were bullying you. "Like I said. It's stupid, and I shouldn't have let their words get to me."

"None of their words are true." His hands squeezed your hips gently. "They're jealous, I married the most wonderful woman in the universe and they are unable to handle such a truth." He kissed the side of your face and neck affectionately.

"I wouldn't say the most wonderful, that's a bit much." You replied, holding in a giggle as he attacked a particularly ticklish spot.

"Are you calling me a liar?" He grumbled into your cheek. "No, just an over-exaggerator."

He growled and the sound went straight to your pussy as his hold turned more firm. "Why does my own flame doubt me so terribly?" "I just don't think I'm worth the praise." You breathed as he growled again. "Who do you trust more? Your husband? Or the jealous nobles who live and thrive off gossip and tearing others down to retain their station?"

"You, of course."

"Good, then trust that by morning you won't remember anything they said to you or about you at that unnecessary function." He promised, and his finger took its place from before circling your entrance, except this time he pressed it in.

You moaned softly as he gave you time to adjust. But only just as he began to move his finger, making you squeak and wiggle back into his hand.

It was almost absurd how easy it was for him to drive your mind blank. "Just relax my flame, I will take care of you."

Another finger brushed against your soaking heat and you knew he was going to push it in even before he did it. He needed to ensure you were thoroughly prepared before he could just take you. When he pressed it in there was no sting or burning as there had been when you first were growing accustomed to him, but you did feel full, fuller than any other source, save for his cock, could provide. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, his voice warm and deep as he praised you for taking his fingers so well.

He continued to press kisses to your hair and face as he pulled his fingers free causing you to whine at the loss. "I was so close." You grumbled as he raised his love slicked fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean with a deep groan. "Oh my flame, you grow sweeter each time I taste you." His massive hands hauled you up his body further as he settled you over his face. "I believe I will need another taste." He swallowed and a quick glance over your shoulder revealed his hard throbbing cock. The first lick was so inhumanly hot, but his body was always like that. He moaned as he went back for another swipe of his tongue. His hands slid down to hold your hips, pressing you down on his mouth further and you relaxed your weight onto him the way you knew he liked. He rewarded you with another long lick before he plunged his tongue into you. You had been so close from just his fingers and you found yourself teetering on the edge again as he fucked your pussy with his mouth, groaning in pure ecstasy as he drank down every bit of juice you provided. "Vulkan," you gasped, "I'm gonna cum love. I'm gonna..." Your body shook and your thighs clamped around his head as he growled in satisfaction, his burning eyes blazed up at you as he watched you fall apart. His growl morphed to a groan as you came on his tongue and he lapped up every drop.

Carefully he laid you down next to him, his body shifting over your as his cock strained between his legs. "My flame, I can not wait any longer." You reached for his face cupping his cheeks and pulling him down for a kiss. "Then don't, please my Dragon, I need you as well." He gave you a flash of the ice melting smile and kissed you deeply as he pressed his cock to your entrance. "My love, you are so much more than anyone could ever dream, and I intend to show you just how much you mean to me. Tonight, and tomorrow and the day after and so on until you know just how deeply I love you." His cock sank slowly into you, inch by inch as he professed his love, until your body had stretched to allow him to sink almost impossibly to the base. "You see. Perfect, just as I said." His hand sought yours, holding it gently as he raised your fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss to each one as he pulled back his hips and thrust back in. He had to show you just how much he loved you even when making love. The bed groaned under you as he thrust again, the feeling of being so full of him was electric, each thrust making little stars dance behind your closed eyelids.

He kissed one of your knuckles, thrusting in hard, but not enough to harm. "Kind." He murmured softly, thrusting in and kissing the next. "Intelligent." He murmured again, moving to the next. "Funny." He repeated the process, for each knuckle he kissed he listed another thing he adored about you. "Loving, beautiful." When he reached the last knuckle he turned your hand over, kissing your palm. "Good with my sons." He gave you a sly smirk at that one, knowing that you always got flustered when they referred to you as 'mother'. Trailing kisses up your arm he continued his compliments until he got to your collarbone, where his lips sealed against your skin and he marked you, leaving a hickey that would be near impossible to miss without a necked shirt or sweater. He looked over the mark and once satisfied he smiled and began his kisses again. The whole while he had been going at an even and maddeningly unhurried pace. "Please, I need you to go faster, I'm getting close but I just need more." You whined, begging him with not only your words but your eyes. "Eager." He said as he left another kiss, this just next to your lips. Teasing you. "Please Vulkan, Please." He wouldn't admit it allowed in the moment, but hearing the way you cried his name as he was thrust into you as deep as he was drove him mad with lust. It had been a battle to keep his wits about him as he heard each little whine or moan. His lips finally brushed over yours, "Most of all," he groaned as his arms scooped under your body to hug you closer to him. "I adore you for being yourself, I could not have married a better woman." His lips pressed to yours and you met the gesture with equal enthusiasm. It was then the damn broke and he was barely able to keep from slamming into you and potentially hurting you, but his thrust picked up, his need to fuck you properly over coming him as he let his need take over in setting the pace. His mouth moved with yours now swallowing your moans and cries as he fucked you into the bed, his arms still holding you close as the bed creaked louder in protest. He felt himself get closer and you were there with him, pussy clenching as you fell apart, your arms tightening around his shoulders as well, as you used his body to keep yourself grounded. You both came, your body milking his cock as he did and his thrusts continuing to ensure you properly came undone beneath him.The primarch spent the next several minutes kissing you, his small wife, as you basked in the afterglow. He hadn't pulled out and he didn't intend to. After all, his father had told him that he was to stay off active duty until such time as you had conceived and given birth and he intended to use that time to the fullest.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #primarch x reader #my writing #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #mating press march #vulkan x reader #vulkan

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stars-obsession-pit · 23 hours ago

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I found this prompt about aroace Danny and thought you might like to check it out.

https://www.tumblr.com/dcxdpdabbles/765333199553544192/you-know-what-would-be-really-fun-you-know-the

Ooh yes that is fun!

…though i’ll admit, the part of me that’s a fan of unhealthy unrequited love is a little disappointed the rejection was taken so well. Nothing actually wrong with it ofc, but just not my usual preference. So I wrote my own version with a slightly different path:

Several members of the Bat family were waiting impatiently in the drawing room for Jason’s return. He’d said he was going to ask Danny out today, and they couldn’t wait to hear how it went! They knew it would go perfectly; from their “research” into Danny, they were certain the pair would hit it off well! In fact, Jason had already used that information to successfully form a friendship with the other boy as a stepping stone.

…But then Jason stomped into the room and dropped onto a chair, letting out an angry huff and staring at his hands.

Dick was on his feet in an instant, stepping closer to Jason before pausing. “What happened?”

“He said no.”

“What?!”

Jason glared up at them. “Danny turned me down.”

“Did he say why?” Steph asked.

“No,” Jason grit out. “He just said ‘sorry’ and something about ‘I don’t’ or ‘I can’t’ or something like that then ran away.” His voice dropped to a mutter, “Wasn’t really paying attention after the first part.”

This time it was Tim who chimed in, “He said ‘can’t’? Maybe he wanted to but someone was threatening him! I can check the security cameras to see who’s approached him recently.”

“Or I could just ask him, you know?” Dick offered.

“A vigilante asking him about his dating life? That won’t be suspicious at all,” Jason commented sarcastically.

Dick blushed. “I– I mean—”

Steph rolled her eyes and cut him off before he could get any further. “Or maybe we could not go to the Bat option immediately? Just set up a few ‘coincidental’ meetings to talk to him, ask him a few friendly questions. Even if we don’t get direct answers, we might get some hints towards how you can win him over.”

Tim perked up. “Oh! I can bug him for you! Maybe that’ll help find info that wasn’t on his social media!”

“Stalker,” Jason chided affectionately. “But genuinely… thanks, guys. You’re right, this doesn’t have to be over! I can definitely find out a way to win his heart!”

***

Meanwhile, Danny lamented how long his new aroace pride pins were taking to ship. He’d lost his last ones while moving to Gotham, and he wished he still had them. Maybe he’d have had an easier time forming more than just a single friendship if he’d had a visual indicator that he was part of the community for other queer folks to see.

#asks #prompt fill (sorta?)#aroace danny fenton #one sided dead on main #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny phantom x dc #danny phantom x dc crossover #unrequited love #one sided relationship #one sided crush #one sided attraction #yes the implication that jason only became friends with Danny to seek a relationship is intentional #i’m not leaving a good friendship to fall back on here. it’s creepy all the way down #also that they possibly worked to block danny from finding other friends. though that one’s not meant to be as likely (more just like as a #fridge possibility for something that could potentially be true and unpleasant)

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lulumangione · 2 days ago

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as someone who’s autistic i also really get the feeling that luigi is on the spectrum and i have nobody to talk about it with because i feel weird like armchair diagnosing him😭

his mannerisms really give it away for me. he’s overly expressive and literally cannot talk without using his hands—and also he comes off to other people as maybe “suspicious” which i really relate to and honestly makes me sad because he’s just chilling!! he might seem like he’s up to something to some but he just seems to me like he’s naturally very antsy and maybe uncomfortable in his own body so he fidgets a lot. i’ve done that little half stretch with the arms raised too many times to count. that’s not even mentioning his little default stance with the hands clasped in front of him or that stupid face he does in pictures sometimes where he scrunches up and looks like he’s gonna bite a bitch

and before he went missing he mentioned to some people feeling “different” from everybody else, like he was on a different wavelength, and that SCREAMS undiagnosed autistic to me. the “npc behavior” he described being so concerned with feels like an extension of this—i think maybe he felt like someone whose feelings are so so big in a world that seems to not feel much at all anymore. that feeling of not belonging and being out of place is the most autistic thing anyone can experience and i feel for him so much. if he does happen to be on the spectrum i wish he could’ve found some kind of community of other neurodivergent people that get him and share similar struggles because maybe then he wouldn’t have felt so alone. idk this turned into a RANT sorry i’m very passionate about autism can you tell

NONNIE YOU'RE SO FUCKING REAL OMG Thank you so much for this ask, you expressed so clearly how I feel about it too!!

As a fellow autistic, at least in my personal experience, I can easily tell when someone clocks that I'm autistic, despite the fact I'm extroverted and a pretty confident person. I think Luigi falls under that too.

No matter how hard you can try to not seem that way, there will be neurotypicals that see it. They'll usually play it up as "weird" or "suspicious" like you said, I've had it a handful of times. It's just how we are, lol.

I think it's unfortunate that he found community in a bunch of incels online, but I can understand why he would be drawn to that despite how smart he is and how his brain ticks. We don't know him personally so there's no telling what his political thoughts are entirely. Man is an enigma in that sense – which also makes sense for being neurodivergent.

With such wealth and an overbearing family, it's easy to understand why he would just want to get away. Find peace outside of everything he'd ever known. I feel the same sometimes.

It also makes sense for his distaste for technology, or at least somewhat of it. We get overstimulated easily and the world was already going haywire and towards something unhopeful, flooding socials and the media in general, before all of this, so I can at least comprehend why he would want to disappear.

Luigi's Reddit posts I feel go more into him as a person outside of silly twitter posts, the way he would randomly info dump about things is a big tism flag for me.

(example, the sunglasses post, lmao. "Fun fact" babes, no one asked x)

I mentioned before how it can feel weird to talk about, but I genuinely do think it's okay to feel that connection, regardless of who it is.

(Btw pls feel free to DM me whenever!! I'd love to hear more on everyone's thoughts on this.)

#morgy.txt #?.txt #luigi mangione #:)

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alynnia · 5 hours ago

Text

Daughters of Deepspace

THIS IS A LONG ONE. I have a habit of smashing ships I like together and designing what their kids look like. It started with just Sylus x MC but then I decided to do the rest and my mind began producing story ideas and I...got carried away. They're still all over the place. I want to do more with Dove in particular and have written a lot for her on the side, another post just about her eventually, but this post are just some summaries. Her situation in particular is extra angst because for some reason, I enjoy giving my favorites the toughest struggles. Names may or may not change. Made the designs in Life Makeover and I couldn't get the right shade for Pomme's hair color so pretend it matches Caleb lol. I wish there was a male equivalent because I would have made sons too.

I also like to give them problems. Not all of their lives are 100% happy and they have issues to deal with. One of them may or may not potentially be a villain.

Polaris

☆Energetic in contrast to her father, bubbly and curious to the point it gets her into trouble. Very "What does this button do? " type of character. Her hobbies are sewing, plush making and being a professional crane game master. Her room is absolutely covered in plushies and comfortable enough that Xavier would fall asleep when reading her stories. In school she does decently, a social butterfly but some students are exhausted by her. Has two best friends and a boy with an obvious crush on her she is oblivious to.

☆Relationship with father: Adores him. Her energy is too much for him to handle and she doesn't realize it. Always hanging on him, tugging on his sleeve, jumping onto his back and the poor man just wants to nap after work. Polaris follows him around and even pops up sometimes while he’s at work. When he’s too deep into an investigation and can’t get her back home, Xavier will continue with her tagging along being extremely careful she doesn’t get hurt. Though she does help him with her time evol. Around others, Polaris will brag about her father in a " My dad can beat your dad" kind of way and will get into fights over it. Once she gets a little brother, her attention shifts from Xavier to him, becoming the ever doting sibling.

☆Evol: Time. In short bursts she can speed up and slow down time making her appear to be faster than she is. As a combatant, she's able to plant traps and bombs while she's slowed everything down. There’s a limit to this as she can only do it a handful of times a day. The Hunters Association are eager to recruit her but her overly curious nature would need to be settled first since it causes problems. Perhaps if she was partnered with someone who has Resonance like her mother, she might actually be able to time travel.

☆Weapon: She's trained with a sword but she prefers explosives that are cute and shaped like animals. She finds them to be beautiful and fun ever since she was little. It started with firecrackers and Xavier's light illusions and as she grew it expanded from there. She mainly uses them as distractions but in a darker setting she might use them directly. When it comes to her swordsmanship, she learned from the best of course, her parents.

☆What is MC up to: A hunter captain. Polaris keeps tabs on who she interacts with for Xavier. After she has her second child she quits and stays home

☆Her story: Something bad happens to her little brother and it's her fault. After this incident the family just isn’t the same and MC has gone into a depressive state she tries to hide. Polaris desperately tries to find a way to turn back time and undo but when she does find a way it may come at a greater cost, if it even works.

Jasmine

◇ Well behaved perfectionist honor student. She carries herself with grace, poise and a favorite of teachers and elderly. She has an interest in gardening, having her own garden of flowers and medicinal plants in the yard and flowers growing near her window in her room. They all are special to her, her “friends” that she chats with. Another hobby of hers is dancing, particularly ballet which she takes VERY seriously, correcting her dance partners to an annoying degree. Like her father, she's a workaholic. If she’s not studying, she’s practicing dance and if she’s not dancing she’s tending to her garden and if she’s not doing that, she’s researching. She will however, always make time for her parents. In school she has casual acquaintances but no real friends as she's far too busy to form meaningful relationships with others which raises concern with Zayne and MC. Another reason she doesn't have friends is because she also holds others to higher standards and when they are not met, she dismisses them. Warm on the outside but a cold nature within. Strict and blunt.

◇Relationship with father: Professional. She wants to excel past his expectations. She has it in her head that she has to be perfect which ends up stressing her out. Zayne worries since he sees so much of himself in her and doesn’t want her to miss out on the simple things in life but Jasmine is the type who insists she is perfectly fine and holds herself together until she bursts into a fit of rage in private. She hates that about herself, finding these emotions to be "tiresome". It would only weaken the family name and she can't let her parents down, especially her father. She has to be better than this no matter what. I can see her finding out about that suppression chip and willingly putting it into herself in secret.

◇Evol: “Healing” (Rapid cell generation) Jasmine loves her evol and is eager to use it whenever she can. She sees it as a way to emulate her father as she wants to become a doctor too to help her mother. She's well studied in biology to help aid her skill since her healing is simply speeding up the natural process. So needing to know how a limb should be set and where an organ should be is important less she causes more harm. Though, she does have the capability to use it offensively. Say she breaks the leg of an enemy she could heal it incorrectly on purpose, permanently hindering them. Or do it over and over again to get them to talk. She could have a career in (twisted) interrogation.

◇Weapon: None. She's not been trained by her parents as they wanted a peaceful life for her and believe that they are more than capable of protecting her themselves and keeping her from any situations where she would need to fight. That doesn't mean she's helpless as where she lacks in combat she makes up for in cunning (and manipulation). Jasmine also has an extensive knowledge in poisons and drugs, plants she is not allowed to grow but has a secret location where she does anyway. Later down the line, if she were to use resonance with someone to amplify her Evol, she could potentially use her "healing" to cause diseases. Rapid generation of cells can cause some very deadly results.

◇Her Story: With the chip implanted in her, she unknowingly becomes a puppet for an organization. The chip was off market and had been tampered with, perhaps former Ever scientists had something to do with it. Jasmine comes to find that there are gaps in her memory and a new mysterious disease is on the rise with certain individuals...

Pomme

♤Athletic tomboy. Her hobbies are working out, playing basketball, surviving her brothers and playing hero. She's physically the strongest of the girls. Having three older brothers, she knows how to hold her own against others and has a protective nature. It's every man for themselves in this household when the parents aren't around and being the smallest one, she’s in the trenches. She does average in school and is a popular basketball player, having her own fan club. She enjoys tinkering with mechanics, a fascination started by watching and helping maintain her father's arm and has put together little contraptions to protect her space and things from her brothers. She sees herself as a protector of the weak, a big sister to those younger than her and will beat up bullies for them. She wants to become a hunter like her mother so she can continue protecting people.

♤Relationship with father: Best friends and one sided rivalry. Caleb is strict with his sons but has a soft spot for his only daughter, telling the boys they need to do everything in their power to protect her...which causes some sibling aggression. They do love their little sister but sometimes the favoritism gives them a reason to pick on her when mom and dad aren’t looking. Pomme insists that she be held to the same standards as her brothers and Caleb keeps saying he does but he always ends up going soft on her which leads her to constantly trying to prove herself to him. So she sets traps with her mechanics, throws a kick and punch here and there that he blocks on instinct and does her best to try and out perform her brothers just to show him how strong she is. Caleb finds it adorable but shifts into colonel mode when things start to get out of hand. You can be sure she has no suitors either. Her brothers are on strict orders to tear up and scare away anyone that appears to show romantic interest in her and sometimes, Caleb himself will step in. She’s also not allowed to have a boyfriend until she’s 80.

♤Evol: None. She's the only one in her family without one leaving her to feel inadequate. Her brothers have air, earth and magnetism but Pomme? Nothing. She does however, know exactly the capabilities of her brothers and if ever in a situation where they are all fighting together, she is the one commanding them like a Pokémon trainer and laying out the strategies. " Alex! Ryan! Attack pattern B! Simon! You're on defense! " (About the names…they’re placeholders. Tempted to name them after the chipmunks but I will hold back.)

♤Weapon: Guns taught by her parents and unarmed, mostly grappling that she learned from dealing with her brothers trying to escape headlocks and being tossed around. She’s able to match the middle one (Ryan), can take down the youngest(Simon) but the eldest brother(Alex) is the final boss tier.

♤What MC is up to: Is finally back to work as a Hunter now that her children are older but has slowed down a bit. Each of them are about a year or two apart and she swears she’s going to get Caleb fixed one of these days.

♤Her Story: In an effort to save someone’s life, she ends up in an accident leaving her legs paralyzed. She's devastated as the one thing she felt she had going was her athletic ability and now she’s limited. She wasn't going to let that stop her so she wanted mechanical limbs like her father. Caleb didn’t like the idea at first, not wanting her going through the same pain and lack of feeling but after a long argument/discussion and making sure she is aware of the consequences he finally gives in. After getting her metal legs, they performed better than her normal ones. She didn’t care that she lost feeling other than pain during maintenance, the power was addictive. She wanted to be able to do more and began working on limb enhancers for her arms, body and eventually create a suit (similar to the ones in Bubblegum Crisis 2040) and essentially become a vigilante as a way to be the hero she wants to be. It starts off small, righteous, taking out petty criminals and saving cats from trees but over time the power gets to her head and she starts hunting bigger prey. Who needs Evol when she's got this?

Ariel

♡Ariel is creative just like her father and applies it to fashion in interesting ways. Seashell skirts, literal flaming dresses (That caused a small fire), coral hair clips, protocore bedazzled tops(expensive af), and driftwood hats (That still had creatures living in it). She makes just as much of a mess as Rafayel thus, she's given her own warehouse to work on her ideas. Sometimes his materials will go missing and it's likely because she "borrowed" them. In school, she excels in everything but sports due to being sickly and easily exhausted so she has to stay home most days. She was born with a weak body and can't handle physical activity for too long, including swimming. In the water, after about a few minutes Ariel just sinks like a rock. She can breathe underwater so she just finds herself laying on the seafloor. Staring up. Contemplating her "worthiness" of being her father's daughter and her Lemurian heritage.

♡Relationship with father: She has him wrapped around her finger. She's never in trouble for very long under him, as much as he likes to think he can keep her in check, all she has to do is give him The Look and he buckles. So she is very spoiled and will act over dramatically along with him giving their mother quite the show but mother doesn't let it slide making her the main disciplinary figure of the house. When it comes to anything Lemurian related she retreats within her proverbial shell. Ariel loves the stories of Lemuria, happy to hear them first hand from her father and visit exhibits about it but due to her weak constitution she thinks there was a mistake. Rafayel however, constantly calls her a princess of the sea, the rightful future ruler of the ocean and all should bow before his little girl! There’s so many paintings of her and her mother, intimidating her. He can’t stop doting on her which she finds embarrassing but the affection makes her even more self-conscious. If they ever had another child, would he stop loving her this much? (The answer of course is no, but she doesn’t know that)

♡Evol: Water. With resonance could probably lead into blood-bending but the sheer amount of power that would entail could be very dangerous for her.

♡Weapon: None, she just uses water but it exhausts her. She can also communicate with fish and they can help her sometimes. She’s only been in a dangerous situation with others once and that was a kidnapping for ransom money. She was quickly saved and the kidnappers were never to be found again but since then she’s got her own bodyguard that’s to be with her at all times. Maybe that bodyguard has a kid her age. Maybe her and that kid get along. Maybe that peer dedicates themselves to be her shield. Maybe a crush develops.

♡What MC is up to: Stay at home bodyguard/mom that helps keep an eye on Ariel and her condition. She sometimes seeks out the thrill of being a hunter again but for the most part stays with her girl. ♡Her Story: She sees herself as a burden and is willing to do anything to “no longer cause trouble” for her parents. So she wants to make a journey, run away with the bodyguard’s kid to seek out a legend to “fix” her. They try to talk her out of it but she’s far too determined and so they prepare along with her, ready to follow.

Dove

♧Dove is a difficult, troubled youth. She's got quite the temper, gets into fights on a near weekly basis as a show of dominance and 'territory' claims, and a delinquent due to skipping school. She does have some of the best grades when she actually applies herself, but math and science are her worst subjects. When she does come to school, classmates are either afraid of her or looking to fight her to prove themselves. She doesn’t always win these fights, but when she loses the opponent tends to end up transferred or apologizing the next day through their teeth. Dove hates this. Her passion is singing, taking an interest in rock and metal, screaming in her room as she writes her own music. Sylus has gotten used to it, “ The little dragon is practicing her roars.” She sucks at crane games but enjoys the challenge even if she keeps getting kicked out for kicking the machine. Always sneaking out of the house but it's rarely actual "sneaking" since Sylus always knows what she's up to and where she is. Where she goes varies. Sometimes old abandoned warehouses just to hang out and watch the going ons of the N109 Zone, sometimes to pick fights with thugs and sometimes the “old shopkeeper” to watch him work and to hear stories about her mother.

♧Relationship with father: Complicated. Her mother died in her time not long after she was born which caused Sylus to be distant. He still cared for her but the severing of half his soul and his daughter’s face being a constant painful reminder took some time to come to terms to. She's able to do what she wants, can have anything and he's even trained her in use of guns and fighting, he's still seemingly cold to her. Yet he's always got an eye on her. Be it the twins, mephisto, the tracking bracelet, no matter where she goes he always knows where she is and quick to appear if need be and this frustrates her to no end. She wants to escape his watchful eye and everyone bowing to her whim. She doesn't want the world to be handed to her, she wants to take it herself. The two do have bonding moments, such as he may have not-so “accidentally” taught her draconic which now leads them to having full private conversations in it (In the full post I have about her I’ll post what I imagine it sounds like but basically the FFXIV dragon speak), and while training together it’s her chance to vent out her frustrations and anger on him.

Evol: “None” as far as she knows up until a certain point. Due to who her mother is and her connection with the deepspace tunnel, there was a rare chance an offspring of hers would gain the ability of Planeswalker but only in relation to her mother. With MC being her anchor point, she can hop to alternate realities.

Weapon: Guns but she mostly uses martial arts or a bat.Improvised weapons are another skill of hers so she’ll use whatever she can get her hands on like a steel chair or a pencil.

Her Story: For some reason, Dove has dreams about her mother and the past lives she’s lived. Bits and pieces of it. She doesn’t think all that much of it until she starts seeing the men in these dreams that were with her. The famous artist, a well respected doctor, clippings of a co-worker of hers, a fleet colonel so she seeks them out. Upon meeting one of them, her Evol activates, flinging her into a different reality where her mother is alive and has a family with them and…meeting another girl who looks similar to her. Thus begins her journey of trying to find out more about her mom, meeting her alternate reality “sisters”, helping them with their problems while trying not to get caught and mend her relationship with her father. There may also be a common enemy who exists in each of their realities they have to deal with.

Now I think many of us agree that Sylus should have twins. I also agree. I wonder what happened to them? Anyway, omg when Sylus finds out about Dove’s reality jumping he’s gonna want to join her so he can see MC again. Can he? Haven’t decided. Oh man and she’s with the other guys? AUuggh, it would be so bittersweet. And he’s already going to be on Dove’s ass about what the fuck is she doing talking with the other LaDs in their current reality and AKSAHDKAJHDSKH-

Sorry, I'm having too much fun with this too.

#love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace mc #sylus x mc #lads mc #lads caleb #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace caleb #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads rafayel #too many tags

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