#the good C-S support is Morgan's

[almoststedytimetravel]

Awakening gave Nah one good C-S support chain, decided that it was enough, and then gave her some of the worst supports in the game.

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air.  Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else. 

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

-

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

-

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Books Out December 2023 🌈

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ Caught in a Bad Fauxmance by Elle Gonzalez Rose 🧡 Heartstopper #5 by Alice Oseman 💛 This Cursed Light by Emily Thiede 💚 All The Hidden Paths by Foz Meadows 💙 Vampires of Eden: Book One by Karla Nikole 💜 Not My Type by Joe Satoria ❤️ Storm in Her Heart by KC Luck 🧡 Eternal Embrace by Luna Lawson 💛 A River of Golden Bones by A.K. Mulford 💙 Tomb of Heart and Shadow by Cara N. Delaney 💜 Through the Embers Volume 2 by Adriana Sargent 🌈 Lucero by Maya Motayne

❤️ The Poison Paradox by Hadley Field & Felix Green 🧡 Second Chances in New Port Stephen: A Novel by TJ Alexander 💛 Matrimonial Merriment by Nicky James 💚 Under the Christmas Tree by Jacqueline Ramsden 💙 Every Beat of Her Heart by KC Richardson 💜 The Memories of Marlie Rose by Morgan Lee Miller ❤️ Playing with Matches by Georgia Beers 🧡 Always Only You by Chloe Liese 💛 Fire in the Sky by Radclyffe and Julie Cannon 💙 Nuclear Sunrise by Jo Carthage 💜 The Naked Dancer by Emme C. Taylor 🌈 Resurrections by Ada Hoffmann

❤️ Destiny’s Women by Morgan Elliott 🧡 Framed by Kate Merrill 💛 The Spoil of Beasts by Gregory Ashe 💚 Catered All the Way by Annabeth Albert 💙 A Cynic’s Christmas Conundrum by L.M. Bennett 💜 Yours for the Taking by Gabrielle Korn ❤️ One Swipe Away by Nicole Higginbotham-Hogue 🧡 The Gentlemen’s Club by A.V. Shener 💛 A Death at the Dionysus Club by Melissa Scott and Amy Griswold 💙 Secrets of the Soul by Holly Oliver 💜 Like They Do in the Movies by Nan Campbell 🌈 Limelight by Gun Brooke

❤️ Heart First by S.B. Barnes 🧡 Grave Consequences by Sandra Barret 💛 Haunted by Myth by Barbara Ann Wright 💚 Invisible by Anna Larner 💙 The Murders at Sugar Mill Farm by Ronica Black 💜 Coasting and Crashing by Ana Hartnett ❤️ Fairest by K.S. Trenten 🧡 A City of Abundant Opportunity by Howard Leonard 💛 The Dark Side of MIdnight by Erin Wade 💙 Mending Bones by Merlina Garance 💜 Transform by Connal Braginsky & Sean Ian O’Meidhir 🌈 The Apple Diary by Gerri Hill

❤️ TruLove by Nicole Pyland 🧡 Structural Support by Sloan Spencer 💛 Whiskey War by Stacy Lynn Miller 💚 Overkill by Lou Wilham 💙 Heart of Outcasts by Nicole Silver 💜 In the Shadow of Victory by J. E. Leak ❤️ Just Like Her by Fiona Zedde 🧡 Gingerbread: Claus For Christmas by Miski Harris 💛 Lies are Forever by C. Jean Downer 💙 The Boys in the Club by M.T. Pope 💜 Lasting Light (Metal & Magic) by Michelle Frost 🌈 Tell No Tales by Edie Montreux

❤️ Radio Silence by Alice Oseman 🧡 Even Though We're Adults Vol. 7 by Takako Shimura 💛 The Accidental Bite by Michelle St. Wolf 💚 Mated to the Demons by Taylor Schafer 💙 Someday Away by Sara Elisabeth 💜 Gatherdawn Luminia Duet Volume 1 by Lee Colgin ❤️ Curse of Dawn by Richard Amos 🧡 Healing the Twin by Nora Phoenix 💛 Ride Me by KD Ellis 💙 How to Bang a Vampire by Joe Satoria 💜 Cthulhu for Christmas by Meghan Maslow 🌈 Prestige by Toni Reeb

❤️ Don't Look Down by Jessica Ann 🧡 Winter and the Wolves by Chris Storm and Kinkaid Knight 💛 Hat Trick by Ajay Daniel 💚 Starborn Husbands: Return to the Pleiades by S. Legend 💙 Dead Serious Case #4 Professor Prometheus Plume by Vawn Cassidy 💜 Practice for Toby by Amy Bellows ❤️ The Siren's Song by Crista Crown 🧡 Hers to Hunt K.J. Devoir

[captainschmoe]

So I don’t have full-blown written-out supports but here’s a summary of how I would like Lucina and f!Morgan’s supports to go:

C-Support: Lucina finds Morgan passed out at her desk, drooling on her tactics notes. She wakes her, and tells her that Robin has been looking for her, and also that he and Chrom have been concerned about her tendencies to stay up so late studying. Morgan then says that she still lags behind Robin’s genius and needs to study this much if she wants to be a worthy tactician to Lucina; the latter finds the prospect unnecessary, especially if it’s what is driving Morgan to nod off. She urges Morgan to go speak to Robin, then briefly muses to herself how Morgan can’t see that being Lucina’s tactician is a useless position.

B-Support: Morgan approaches Lucina, firm in her belief that she ought to be her tactician because that’s the relationship between their fathers, and they both really want to be like their fathers. Lucina reminds her that there’s no point in her having a tactician because, unlike Chrom, Lucina doesn’t command an army nor rule a halidom, and she never will because Grima ripped that away from her. Morgan remains adamant, assuming that she must have been Lucina’s tactician in the future and getting offended at being refused the chance to continue the role. Lucina goes suspiciously quiet and the discussion peters out there.

A-Support: Morgan approaches Lucina to ask why the latter seemed so upset about last time. Lucina comes clean: the Morgan of her future disappeared shortly after both Chrom and Robin were lost, believing that Robin may still have been alive as his body was never found. Many years later, the two of them met again as enemies, Morgan having been somehow manipulated into joining the Grimleal. Hearing this, Morgan is briefly upset, but declares that this only strengthens her desire to be Lucina’s tactician, even if they can only role play the parts, because it’s almost certainly what the other Morgan would have wanted had she not gotten brainwashed. Lucina finally concedes, admitting that she should be grateful for the chance to spend time with a friend she’d thought lost forever.

S-Support: Morgan approaches Lucina (again) and asks her what she plans to do in case Grima is defeated. Lucina says she doesn’t know, just that she needs to leave her family behind since no one outside the Shepherds will believe her to be Chrom’s time-traveling daughter. Morgan remarks that that sounds incredibly lonely, then tells Lucina that she’ll stick around for the rest of their lives, very casually and bluntly adding that she loves her. Lucina is highly flustered and half-correctly surmises that Morgan’s whole “tactician” thing was just a ruse to get them hooked up, though she also admits that she greatly enjoys Morgan’s company and carefree attitude. Upon Lucina confessing, Morgan starts yelling for Robin and Chrom to tell them the good news and runs off before Lucina can say she isn’t ready for that yet.

[yukiwrites]

Never Forget Me

Thank you for the support and the boundless patience, @authordgaster!! ;_;) Really, sorry for the wait and thank you so much!!

This is a Support Chain C-S between Young Azura and Fallen M!Morgan from FEH. Seeing as this is a pre-amnesia Morgan, he's probably around her age~

Commission info HERE and HERE!

__________________________

C SUPPORT

Young Azura: Um…

Fallen M!Morgan: What?

Young Azura: Um… I’m Azura. Kiran said to support you from now on…

Fallen M!Morgan: …

Fallen M!Morgan: Ah, I remember now. They did say something about allowing me to use my full potential, but I can’t see how a little girl like you can help. If only Master Grima was around, I could…

Young Azura: I-I don’t know either, but… I can try singing if you want.

Fallen M!Morgan: I won’t need your help in the future, but I suppose I should play along with the Summoner until I can reunite with my master.

Young Azura: So… Um…

Fallen M!Morgan: *sighs* Try not to fall behind, we’re leaving.

Young Azura: O-okay!

Fallen M!Morgan: …

Young Azura: …

Fallen M!Morgan: …

Young Azura: …

Fallen M!Morgan: That’s it? 

Young Azura: H-huh?

Fallen M!Morgan: You’re not gonna preach how teamwork is an essential part of any strategy or whatever everyone keeps saying around these parts?

Young Azura: O-oh, should I have? I’m not… I’m not good with words, or people, or…

Fallen M!Morgan: Right.

Young Azura: Um… I’m sorry I upset you.

Young Azura: *mumbles* Please don’t beat me…

Fallen M!Morgan: What was that?

Fallen M!Morgan: … No. Nevermind.

Fallen M!Morgan: You don’t need to apologize to me. I don’t expect anything of you.

Young Azura: O-okay. Thank you.

Fallen M!Morgan: …

B SUPPORT

Fallen M!Morgan: *huff huff* That was close… Too close.

Fallen M!Morgan: They… they were all summoned here, too. I can’t let my guard down. Not even a little.

Young Azura: Um… Morgan? 

Fallen M!Morgan: Ack! *swoosh*

Young Azura: Kya!

Fallen M!Morgan: Whoa, sorry! Are you alright? Don’t sneak up on me or I’ll blow up some magic in reflex.

Young Azura: I-it’s okay. I’m sorry I scared you. Um- I mean, thank you for lifting me up…

Fallen M!Morgan: I- yeah. Sure. I did that. I did… Ugh.

Young Azura: Are… are you alright? You’ve been trembling since before. Does your head hurt? Did someone hurt you?

Fallen M!Morgan: No. Stop talking. Please stop talking! I’m alright!! I’m not- I’m not wavering.

Young Azura: *gasp* I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to upset you.

Fallen M!Morgan: *sighs*

Fallen M!Morgan: *breathes in* Fwoooo… Hold it, hold it… hahhhh *breathes out*

Young Azura: …

Fallen M!Morgan: What… are you doing? That’s my hand.

Young Azura: Um, whenever I’m feeling sad, I always imagine someone holding my hand like this to help me calm down. Should… Should I stop? You looked so sad I thought you needed it…

Fallen M!Morgan: …

Fallen M!Morgan: No, you don’t need to stop.

Fallen M!Morgan: … Th- ugh… than…

Fallen M!Morgan: Ughhh… *scratch scratch*

Fallen M!Morgan: Thanks.

Young Azura: Mhm!

Young Azura: Did it help?

Fallen M!Morgan: It… did.

Young Azura: I’m glad. I’ve always wanted a big brother or sister to hold my hand and tell me everything would be okay.

Fallen M!Morgan: I’m not your brother, though.

Young Azura, blushing: I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume-

Fallen M!Morgan: But I can hold your hand when you’re sad if you want.

Fallen M!Morgan: You know. As retribution.

Young Azura: … Mhm… Mhm, thank you… *sniff*

Fallen M!Morgan: …

Young Azura: *sniff* Thank you… Only Kiran has ever been nice to me, so I’m still not used to people not… hurting me.

Fallen M!Morgan: (I almost hit her with that magic earlier, and she still considers me a ‘nice’ person. Have I slipped that far…?)

Fallen M!Morgan: Sure.

Young Azura, smiling: Mhm…!

A SUPPORT

Young Azura: Morgan…! 

Fallen M!Morgan: Ugh… Don’t yell, my head hurts.

Young Azura: I-I’m sorry… B-but why did you do that?

Fallen M!Morgan: …

Young Azura: Why did you jump in front of me and take that blow? You were so hurt because of someone like me… Why? Why hurt yourself for me? Isn’t pain the worst thing? Why for me? Why…

Fallen M!Morgan: You’re rather talkative today, aren’t you?

Young Azura: Hup! B-but…

Fallen M!Morgan: No particular reason, really. You were there. So was I. My body just moved on its own.

Young Azura: But you always avoid everyone… And I’m used to pain, so…

Fallen M!Morgan: It’s…

Fallen M!Morgan: It’s because of… that. I- Ever since meeting you, I felt my control slip… I’ve been trying so hard, so, so hard to be someone my master would be proud of. Like… Like she was back then.

Young Azura: Eh…?

Fallen M!Morgan: The kind, warm mother I barely remember anymore… the sunny smile and warm head pats she’d give us when we were kids, I- I don’t even remember how her voice sounded anymore.

Young Azura: Morgan, you’re cryin-

Fallen M!Morgan: Ever since meeting you, I noticed how easy it is to just go back to normal if my master is not around. I need her to come to Askr quickly to set me back straight, but also… I also want to stay this way a little bit more. I want to protect you and hold your hand and say ‘thank you’ and apologize like it’s normal…

Young Azura: *sniff* F-for me? But your master is everything for you… but still, for me, you would…?

Fallen M!Morgan: She was. She is. She always will be. I can’t live a life without her, and I’ll follow her through the fires of hell if she wishes me to.

Fallen M!Morgan: But… But for now, this is okay.

Fallen M!Morgan: So don’t cry anymore about this, alright? I did it ‘cause I wanted to.

Young Azura: *sniff* I… Thank you, Morgan. I’m… I’m really happy. But please, don’t get hurt… I don’t want to see you hurt like that ever again…

Fallen M!Morgan: I can’t promise anything. For now let’s leave it at that, alright? 

S SUPPORT

Fallen M!Morgan: Azura.

Young Azura: Morgan! Hi. It’s not often that you look for me… this makes me happy.

Fallen M!Morgan, blushing: Uh, okay.

Fallen M!Morgan: Ahem. Anyway. I came here to give you this.

Young Azura: A little branch of flowers? It’s so tiny and cute! It’s glowing a bit inside the petals…

Fallen M!Morgan: They’re called forget-me-nots in my world. Curious that they were growing around here, too, but I digress… I put a bit of magic in it so it wouldn’t wilt no matter how much time passes.

Young Azura: Oh… so it’s precious, then. A-are you sure you’re okay giving it to me?

Fallen M!Morgan: Heh, you’re holding it so tightly and still saying that?

Young Azura, blushing: I-I’m…!

Fallen M!Morgan: Just lightening the mood. Hah, to think that a day would come when I could say that…

Young Azura: Um, Morgan…? You look serious all of a sudden.

Fallen M!Morgan: You remember what I said last time, right? That I wanted to protect you and stay by your side… But that can’t go on forever.

Young Azura: … Eh?

Fallen M!Morgan: One day, Master Grima will arrive and I’ll return to her side. I must. I have to. It’s my life’s duty.

Fallen M!Morgan: Besides, even after that, the Order of Heroes here will disband someday. We’re not gonna be here in Askr forever.

Young Azura: B-but… But if you’re not with me, then… If Kiran or everyone else who has been so kind to me is not with me anymore then… Then I’ll go back to being alone. I… I don’t want to be alone anymore.. I-

Fallen M!Morgan: Shh, hey… I’m still talking. It’s okay, don’t cry.

Young Azura: My hand… Thank you… I’m- I’m alright now. I’m sorry.

Fallen M!Morgan: We WILL go our separate ways one day. I’ll go with my mother- ah… I mean, Master Grima, and you’ll return to Hoshido-

Young Azura: Hoshido? B-but I’m from Nohr-

Fallen M!Morgan: Nevermind that. You’ll return to your world and I’ll return to mine. But one day… one day, after accomplishing everything my master wants… One day, I… I want to go look for you. I want to find you again.

Young Azura: …! Morgan…

Fallen M!Morgan: We’ll go our separate ways now, but.. But in the future, no matter how long it takes… I want to look for you. This you, not any other Azura that I might’ve seen around.

Young Azura: But… but how? Only Kiran can summon us…

Fallen M!Morgan: I don’t know how yet. I just… I don’t want to NOT see you again. So, uh, promise me you’ll keep this flower with you? Always?

Young Azura: The flower…? 

Fallen M!Morgan: That way, I’ll know it’s the real you I’ve been looking for. I don’t know how that will take, but…

Young Azura: I will!  

Fallen M!Morgan: Azura…

Young Azura: I will! I promise! I’ll never let go of this, ever. No matter where I go or what awaits me back home, I… I’ll always remember you, Morgan. I’ll hold onto this flower and remember you and wait for you. I promise…

Fallen M!Morgan: Thanks. Thank you, really. I’ll definitely, definitely find you, no matter what.Young Azura: Mhm, I’ll be waiting! With this… always, with this.

[aqt-psyc20042]

No man is an island

Building societal support and Social Connection

©https://www.betterup.com/blog/how-to-stay-socially-connected-to-society-your-life-depends-on-it

What is Social Support?

The American Psychological Association (2018) defines social support as “the provision of assistance or comfort to others, typically to help them cope with biological, psychological, and social stressors”. This support can come from family, friends, significant others, community, workmates, or support groups. This support can be tangible as in the act of physical help (chores, giving material things and money) or intangible as in giving advice or emotional support when someone needs it. Drageset (2021) presented social support as “structurally and functionally” and “formally and informally”. Structural means having a group pf people you know and how big that group is. The relationship you create with them defines how you interact with them and how you are connected to them.  Social connection as a function refers to a person’s view of the support they get form others which triggers how they are connected to their social network.  

Why is it important to wellbeing?

Social support has protective effects on physical and psychological health (Ozbay et. al, 2007). Further, they emphasized that social support aid in coping strategies with regards to mental and physical vulnerabilities such as mental health issues or diseases. Several studies relate to this finding as being supported makes one feel empowered. As stated earlier, support comes in different kind of forms that help us cope with stress or difficult situations. Strong social ties link to better health outcomes like strengthening the immune system, lower blood pressure, and reduced risk of chronic diseases (Better Health Channel, 2022). Being accepted brings a sense of belongingness which inhibits anxiety and depression and contribute to satisfaction in life.

Intervention/exercise

There are three connections that we should foster according to Better Health Channel (2022) and these are intimate connections (family, friends, partner) relational connections (workmates, and those you have common interest with outside of your intimate connections), and collective connections (share a group or affiliation with like churchmates). But how do we strengthen connections? Reaching out to them is probably the oldest trick in the book. Spending or making time to meet and talking to these connections help in overall wellbeing. With busy schedules there still a lot of ways to communicate and this is where technology comes in handy. Setting up a videocall is as easy as clicking a button and the impacts are tremendous. Others who are introverted and is having difficulty to directly talk to people can cope up by writing or blogging such as this or by vlogging which acts like a video diary. Since sharing your time is essentially what social connection is, any platform will do as long as it suits you and makes you feel good.

References:

American Psychological Association. (2018). Social Support. https://dictionary.apa.org/social-support

Better Health Channel. (2022). Strong relationships, strong health. https://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/health/healthyliving/Strong-relationships-strong-health

Drageset J. Social Support. 2021 Mar 12. In: Haugan G, Eriksson M, editors. Health Promotion in Health Care – Vital Theories and Research [Internet]. Cham (CH): Springer; 2021. Chapter 11. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK585650/ doi: 10.1007/978-3-030-63135-2_11

Ozbay, F., Johnson, D. C., Dimoulas, E., Morgan, C. A., Charney, D., & Southwick, S. (2007). Social support and resilience to stress: from neurobiology to clinical practice. PubMed.

[childofaura]

I am bored and overloaded on fodder from arena tickets and pity breaks, so any suggestions for other projects while I get grails for baby Azura?

<3

I'm probably gonna be super biased towards some units, just because they're my favorites, lol.

Big one I can think of is Python. If you have a spare Summer Elincia lying around, her bow works really well for Python, and since he's a cavalry bow, he has good reach. Mine has a bit of an outdated build, but I run him with Whitecap Bow, Swift Sparrow, Desperation (it has saved my ass and I can't wait for Desperation 4), and Threaten Def (which you can just substitute for some other C-skill). Plus Deadeye.

Luthier is a good green mage unit if you need someone with speed and attack power. Not a whole lot of 4 star green mages are super fast that I know of, but he's a good one. I've considered foddering Tailtiu's Teacake Tower on him, but we'll see if he gets a Refine soon. Holding off until then.

M!Morgan is a big one for me, I have him dual-function as an offensive and supportive unit with Inf. Null Follow 3 (so he can support his mom Robin and dad Priam in the Arena). His weapon with the refine is really good and it makes him a pretty hardcore demote Red Tome.

Benny's a fantastic Far Save unit for me, most people run him near save but that satisfactory Res stat makes him optimal for far save. Only thing is that I run him with Arcane Qiang which is hard to get, so go for it if you have one on hand, but hold off if not. Not a lot of lance weapons that help boost the Res stat. My Benny is run with Distant Stance, Mystic Boost 4, A/R far save, and Def/Res Ideal S seal. I'm considering nabbing an extra Armored Beacon fodder, but the Armored Beacon/Armored Floe fodder I have right now is being saved for if Miklan gets added to the game. So yeah, Benny's a sweetheart of a defender if you run a Far Save on him. I love Henriette but I've never pulled more than one copy of her, and Benny works best.

This one is weird, but Azama is also an interesting staff unit; he's not flawless, but I have him in Aether Raids and he tends to fuck up people who ignore him in favor of taking out other units first. Serpentine Staff deals less damage than Pain does (7 HP as opposed to Pain's 10), but it also has built in Deep Wounds. So I run him with Fort. Def/Res 3, Renewal 3 (which probably should be replaced with Poison Strike, or Poetic Justice if you need him to attack better), and two counts of Savage Blow 3. Problem is you gotta invest a LOT of Dragon Flowers into him. But to me, he's still worth the build. If you have a Holy Panic, slap that on him. His Attack stat is absolutely abysmal, but he's more of the "Death by a Thousand Papercuts" type of unit.

This one is only a suggestion if you have an Arcane Downfall, but Mustafa definitely is a solid axe unit. He virtually has Ganglot's kit (Distant Stance and Quick Riposte 4) plus Def/Res Menace and Fort. Def/Res 2 as an S seal. If you have good support units behind him, he's a monster. The unit showcase video I did of him has him taking down Ninja Camilla, though I'm like... 95% sure it was unmerged (or only had one or two merges), but STILL. He's an enemy phase slaughterhouse.

This one goes without saying, but one of my most utilized units is Silas. The only thing that sucks is the constant influx of sword units that are starting to outclass him (LOOKING AT YOU, B!SELIPH), but if you play to his weapon refine, he's incredibly reliable. Just needs a Far Save unit to cover him, lmao. I run him as an enemy phase unit: Sturdy Stance (prevents cooldown charge in most cases, very useful to prevent him from getting wiped out by a Special), Quick Riposte 4, Atk/Def Menace (which I may replace someday if we get a better Atk/Def C-skill), and Atk/Def Form 3. His refine weapon, Sworn lance, requires a support partner, but it prevents most units from making follow up attacks; which means sometimes he can tank hits from dragon units (but not all the time) because he prevents their follow up attack. So most of the time in combat, he's getting at least 20+ Atk and Def. And his support partner is OG Kinshi Hinoka (since I paired them in my Fates game), so with her Atk/Spd Oath 4, she can usually get around to where he is if she's close enough to him or another unit. He's not as destructive as Geralt or Petrine, but he's my buddy and that's all that counts.

Sorry for the long list, I started going down my barracks and realized I have a lot of units that I just have fun using, lmao. There's a couple I left out but I didn't wanna drag out the list.

[wintersongstress]

Hello friends ❤ With the new year ringing in I can’t help but look back on the abyss that was 2021 and focus on the bright moments in between: the people who helped make it better in great and small ways. This past year these blogs I’m about to mention have brought me joy, whether it be in the form of their support of my creations, sharing their owns works and creativity to admire and inspire, or just by being a friend—I felt compelled to shout out some of you who have been a delight to follow, be mutuals with, or see pop up in my activity. Thank you for being you. I hope your 2022 is filled with goodness and peace, growth and wholeness, and ultimately turns out to be a bright chapter. Here’s to new fictional characters and stories to fill the void 🥂🎆

a-c: @actuallyhansolo // @albertmasonry // @ammihan // @theashenphoenix //  @assaultron // @azurejewel // // @bonniemacfarlane // @boozerman //  @cavalieredispade  // @cclkestis //  @crownkillers //

d-g: @dicax-asina // @fashionablyfyrdraaca // @fettboba​ // @foundynnel // @thegunslingerstragedy // @gwynsblade //

h-l: @halfwayriight // @haloinfinite // @the-halo-of-my-memory // @heavensnight // @hoovesmadeofsteel // @hoseas-angry-ghost // @in-darker-dreams // @itspapillonnoir // @isaviel // @lilacandwhiskey // @liquidsnvke //

m-p: @mary-marion // @mistress-light // @miyku // @mr-morgan // @neketakas //  @pagonyban // @porkchop-ao3 // @prairiemule // @preciousgyro //

q-s:  @raccoonscity // @river-the-fox // @rivetingrosie4 // @rxkuyo // @shadows-echoes // @a-shakespearean-in-paris // @shallow-gravy // @shandrias // @sillygamingartghost // @silverstar15 // @snowthroat // @soazzar // @sternbagel

t-z: @tatzelwyrm // @tiredcowpoke // @ugh-my-back // @uncharted2007  // @vault21 // @vindicia // @winterswake // @thewolfkissed // 

And last but not least thank YOU to my followers, you all make me feel liked and welcome here and I’m so so happy to share things with you 💕💕💕 Please know that I am grateful for each and every one of you who isn’t a bot 🌹

[quietsun5268]

Who's the Most Likely, Least Likely, or Maybe Fathers for Laurent based on Classes, looks, supports, and/or mannerisms?

Most Child units inherit the hair color from their fathers (with the exception of Female Morgan, who inherited her mother's hair color, and Lucina). But some parents are more fitting for some child units then others based on Classes, looks, supports, mannerisms, etc. I'm not looking for who would make the kid stronger. Just a parent who would make sense for the Child Units.

Recap: Brady Severa Cynthia

Noire

Yarne

Gerome

Nah

Kjelle

Lucina

Owain

Inigo

Morgan

Here's what I've gathered about Laurent, although it's a little difficult since much of his traits are from Miriel with a few differences.

1.) In the future, Laurent was the tactician of the future kids. So he could've learned tactics from Robin, and/or Virion (Virion plays chess which is considered a strategy game and He beats Robin at a strategy game in their supports). In The Future Past Ending, Laurent becomes the tactician of the new Shepherds.

2.) Laurent is a mage like his mother, but Ricken is also a mage too.

3.) Laurent can be a Schedule Fanatic like Frederick. An example of this is in Laurent's supports with Cynthia where he has a certain time of the day that he always lectures her.

4.) At the beginning of Laurent's C Support he found something that belonged to his father laying around and told his father to secure his belongings in the future. Remember when Vaike misplaced his axe at an early part of the game? Maybe Stahl could be fitting for the C Support as well since he is a scatterbrain, also it's revealed in his Summer Scramble with Vaike that he can lose his weapon too. Oh, there's also his reply to his father in the relationship tile, "The future? Hmm…very well. How about we start with a warning? You should endeavor to put things back where you found them! The arguments your sloppiness started with Mother - we almost needed counseling! …There, that was a nice, healthy talk. Now we can be a normal family." Would this cross out fathers who would be considered… organized?

5.) One of Laurent's quotes to his father in the relationship tile says "Father, has your hairline receded? I'm quite concerned…for both of us." Does that cross Ricken off since he's young?

6.) Although Laurent is similar to his mother, he's more empathetic and sociable than her. He could've gotten that from his father or he could've developed that from being sent in the past three years before than the rest of the Child Units.

7.) Laurent has good observation skills (See his supports with Kjelle and Lucina). Virion can read people in his supports with Miriel and Cordelia. Plus, in Virion's S-Support with Tharja, he reveals that the reason he followed her commands was because he saw the good will behind them. Stahl's supports with Robin and Maribelle reveal that he is very good at reading people, often knowing what they want before they say it.

8.) Laurent constantly watches people train and gives them pointers. Which sounds like a Frederick thing. Plus what is most important to Stahl is helping others and being of service to his friends (see his support with Maribelle and Lissa. See Stahl's summer scramble conversation with Chrom too.) Kellam in his supports with Donnel and Olivia have him be actively helpful and give advice to their problems.

9.) Laurent's A-Support with his father has said father tickles him to try and make him smile. I can see Henry doing that.

(?) In Future Past its hinted that Stahl taught Laurent and Miriel a bit of apothecary of Stahl is Laurent's father.

Who do you think is the child's units mostly likely, maybe, and least likely parents based on Classes, looks, supports, mannerisms, etc?

I'm not sure if I got everything. There's always a chance I'm missing something but I'm willing to listen to any input and reasons why you think whatever father is suitable for Laurent

Voting is optional - Who's the Most Likely Father for Laurent based on Classes, looks, supports, and/or mannerisms?: https://strawpoll.com/polls/GPgV342GvZa

Who's the Least Likely Father for Laurent based on Classes, looks, supports, and/or mannerisms?: https://strawpoll.com/polls/7MZ0zY8l1no

Reddit (you can click here if you want to see what other people think in the comments but know that the polls aren't in Reddit)

[safertokiss]

Through a Different Lens

A/N: Well, well, well. Lookie what we have here. New content wowza. I’d say I’m surprised it’s been a while, but I simply am not. Luckily another fic swap has arrived to get my creative juices flowing once again. The gods have gifted me with another perfect opportunity to write sub spence because I was given @writing-in-april as my person yet again. Hooray! Anyways I hope you enjoy and thanks all you cool cats and kittens for the support (we almost to 1000 yeet skrrt). Also, it just happens to be my birthday today so as a gift to myself I thought about subby Spencer for a while.

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT and can’t forget that fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

ENJOY:)

~~~

It all started completely by accident.

There was no possible way that she would’ve been able to predict just how much they would affect the poor kid. 

She could remember, clear as day, the first time she was forced to wear her glasses to the bureau due to her ongoing frustrations with the torture devices that were also referred to as contacts. There were only so many headaches and eye-waterings that she could take before the insecurity of wearing her frames to work shriveled below the point of caring anymore. 

But none of those previous insecurities held a flame to the amount of confusion she felt when she entered the bullpen and waltzed over to Spencer’s desk to say good morning with a shy smile adorning her face. Y/n hadn’t even been able to get a complete sentence out before the young doctor had turned to her and froze, his mouth hanging open like a fish, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, the harsh red blush she had seen before, just maybe not to this extent, engulfing his boyish features. 

Before she could even attempt to ask him what she had done to warrant such a response, he was spouting out a meager, “H-hey Y/n” whilst simultaneously scurrying off in the direction of the nearest bathroom.

Completely and utterly perplexed over what had happened, she had shrugged it off and made her way back to her desk, silently mulling over the interaction periodically throughout the rest of the day. 

It was a couple of the same type of interactions later that Y/n began to take notice of what was actually happening with the boy genius. The stiff and unnatural posture. The stuttering, granted that wasn’t something new, just much more frequent and severe. The audible heartbeat always accompanied by rosy cheeks and goosebumps. 

Spencer Reid was fucking turned on by the glasses.

And he didn’t even try to hide it. Or maybe he did and was just really, really bad at doing so.

Either way, Y/n quickly discovered just how much fun it was getting these reactions to pour out of the kid...so of course she kept wearing the glasses even after she was able to wear contacts again. He didn’t need to know that. 

It was so fucking easy too. 

She would just be sitting at her desk, occupied by some particularly troubling pages of a case file that makes her have to readjust her frames out of stress, when she’d hear a high pitched squeak across the bullpen, followed by the pattering of frantic footsteps she had familiarized herself with in former few weeks. 

While she felt some kind of guilt for putting him through this, it was nowhere near enough to overtake the genuine excitement and gratification that came with knowing she could have such an effect on the adorable doctor.

Of course she found him attractive...how could she not with his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and nerdy slicked back hair. Ultimately Y/n could understand his apparent infatuation with her wearing glasses as she had caught herself, on more than a couple occasions, openly ogling his own specs. 

Maybe they were both weirdos...the whole situation was almost as strange as the Converse kink that she secretly harbored for years. Although her intuition was quick to suggest that, just maybe, both of her unique infatuations stemmed from the same noodle-shaped source.

Perhaps her favorite reaction of his, though, came about during the little office birthday party that the entire team had thrown for him.

He looked so adorable in the gigantic birthday cake hat they had bestowed upon him, Y/n could hardly contain her giggles at the giddy smile adorning his face. She watched on in amusement as Spencer tried desperately to get the candles on his cake to extinguish, to no avail, at least until someone felt bad watching his struggles and decided to give him a hand.

“They’re trick candles Spence, they’re gonna come back on every time.”, JJ chuckled, subtly smirking at Morgan who was also enjoying Spencer’s ongoing struggles. 

A couple “happy birthdays” later and the rest of the team slowly began to disperse, leaving just Y/n and him alone in their own little space. He must’ve noticed this too because the blush that had already been present throughout the celebration beforehand seemed to deepen even further as he visibly swallowed down his nerves.

Slowly stalking towards the rouge kissed boy, she dragged a couple of her fingers across the surface of the desk, noting the way his eyes briefly flicked down to follow the movement before hesitantly returning his gaze to match her own. 

She also noted the way his knuckles were basically turning white from the amount of pressure he was using to grab the sides of the chair.

“You have a good birthday, Spence?”, Y/n drawled with a teasing smile, now standing directly before the trembling young man.

Seeming to snap out of whatever sort of trance he had been in, he hastily cleared out his throat before responding with a bit of trepidation. “Hmm...yeah-yes uh yes it was v-very good, than-thank you.”

She couldn’t even attempt to conceal the smirk that had made its way to her lips listening to the genius stutter through his words. Such a nervous, nervous boy. So adorable. So fucking hot. 

“Well that makes me happy. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself pretty boy.”, she paused her thoughts soaking in the little hitches in his breath surely from how close she was standing near him and the added nickname. Deciding to play a little bit dirty, she leaned over directly into his line of sight to reach for the cake set before him.

 “Now how about I take this away and cut it up for all of us to eat? Hmmm?”

His eyes darted immediately to the cleavage that was so graciously presented to him as she bent over to pick up the dessert, a sharp little gasp escaping his pretty, pink lips as his pupils dilated carelessly. 

Y/n inwardly smirked at his reaction and began walking towards the kitchenette, but only made it about three or four steps before being interrupted. 

“Did you know that in some instances birthday candles are safe for wax play?”, he exclaimed before seemingly realizing what had just escaped his lips, his hands flying up to cover his traitorous mouth. 

Bewildered, in the best of ways, by what had just been said, she slowly swiveled back around, facing him once again, before placing the cake on the desk beside her. 

“What was that Spencer?”, she grinned at the petrified man who hadn’t made a single noise since his unexpected declaration. The poor thing looked like a caged in animal with nowhere to escape. Perfect.

“N-nothing! I m-mean obviously it was um s-something, but j-just uh just forget what I s-said.”, he quickly explained while frantically shaking his hands as if he was hoping he could simply wipe your memory of the last minute or two away permanently.

“No, no please go on.”, she teased. “Now I’m intrigued. What did you mean by ‘in some instances’ Spence?”

She wasn’t expecting the look of confusion, however brief it was, that peeked its way through the overwhelming embarrassment that had been showcased on his face, as if he truly couldn’t fathom that someone was actually asking him to go into more detail about a topic. 

Still didn’t change the fact that he was completely mortified.

Clearing his throat, he hesitantly lifted his gaze back to Y/n’s, seemingly debating with himself over whether he could articulate the words to come out or not. 

“Um...well..usually many p-people who choose to e-engage in such act-activities will use specific types of c-candles that are uh more designed especially for pl-play.”, he paused and she drank up the way his Adam's apple bobbed along his throat. “Uh… basically depending on the t-type of candle that one u-uses, the amount of pain or um d-discomfort differs. B-birthday candles tend to b-be on the more painful side so only the couples who are in-into that kind of thing would ever really utilize t-them.”, he finished abruptly, his leg bouncing rapidly in her line of vision.

She still couldn’t really believe she had actually gotten him to say anything at all, nevermind an in depth analysis on wax play. In a weird way she was proud of him. Really proud. Sometime amidst her thoughts, she’d found herself standing directly behind his sitting figure, her hands resting on either side of him against the table, the goosebumps visible on his skin from the implications of the position they were currently in.

“That’s really intriguing Spencer. I’d love to find out someday just why it is you know so much about the subject, but I don’t want to make you go into cardiac rest anytime soon.”, she remarked, giggling at the shy smile that made its way to his mouth.

She didn’t even register reaching out to lightly touch his lips until she heard his sharp intake of breath. Until he turned his head so they were mere centimeters apart. Until she watched his puppy eyes dart between her lips and your frame covered gaze. Until the space between them seemed to be lessening with every sec-

“Hey pretty boy! Where’s my cake?”

Y/n grudgingly pulled back at the interruption, watching in amusement as Spencer’s body instinctively leaned forward as if his lips hadn’t gotten the memo and were still searching for hers. “It’s coming right up you lazy ass!” she yelled back with a grin on her face.

She looked back to the boy sitting before her and was almost mesmerized by the dazed look present on his face, the blush slowly retreating as he came back to his surroundings. She could tell there were words that he wanted to say, but they just didn’t seem to be forming fast enough to actually come out. Deciding to put their little moment on hold before he passed out, she walked back over to the neglected dessert and started heading towards the break room again.

“I’ll make sure to save you the biggest piece, Spence.”,she threw over her shoulder, chuckling at the bewildered look still that was still present on his face.

~~~

The day was a big success in her opinion. 

Spencer looked even more like a child than usual with the big shit eating grin that remained throughout the celebration and the bulky hat that he refused to take off. She could never understand how someone could have such an affinity for sugar as she watched him devour the huge slice of cake she had carved up for him.

But hours later, it was just her and Spencer left in the building. 

And she was not about to let that go to waste.

Y/n could see him from where she stood at the entrance to the kitchenette. She could see the way he slouched over his desk with his legs curled underneath him, criss cross applesauce, as he scribbled down whatever case file he was working on. She admired his determined work ethic, that’s for sure.

But now was simply not the time to work.

Spencer immediately froze as soon as her body situated itself to be leaning against his desk, painfully aware of her gaze on his tense form. 

“H-hey Y/n.”, he nervously murmured, the stutter once again making her giddy.

“Hey yourself doc. Wanna tell me why it is you’re still here working at such a late hour? Doesn’t the elusive Spencer Reid have better things to be entertaining himself with?”, she drawled, her piercing gaze making the poor kid squirm before her eyes.

“Oh um no...n-not really. I actually don’t mind working late. It’s k-kind of therapeutic in a way. But um...I’m happy t-that you’re here w-with me.”, he whispered the last part as if he was scared you wouldn’t appreciate his gratitude.

But she appreciated it more than he knew.

Noticing the little pencil holder situated amongst the file stacks on his desk, an idea popped into her mind that she just couldn’t shake, prompting her to pick it up and begin fiddling with it.

“Oh is that so pretty boy? Does my presence satisfy you?” Before he could even attempt an answer she “accidently” dropped the holder on the ground, the array of pens and pencils dispersing among the floor. “Oops my bad.”

Spencer immediately scrambled out of his seat and onto the floor to start collecting the colorful writing utensils, the perfect distraction needed for Y/n to situate herself on his desk with her legs spread open directly in front of his face. 

“D-don’t worry abou-”, his sentence cut off as he looked up and was met with the tantalizing sight of her white lace panties already damp with her excitement. She swore he could die happy with the way his eyes widened and cheeks flushed. She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“See something you like baby?” Unable to even form words, the young doctor slowly nodded his head, eyes still locked on the obvious wet spot between her open legs.

“C-can I..can I um…”

“Use your words baby boy. Can you what?”, she spoke clearly, grasping his chin so he’d look her in the eyes.

“C-can I taste you?” She couldn't get over the desperate way he spoke as if he’d die of thirst if he didn’t get a drink from her.

“Of course you can sweet b-” Not even letting the words leave her mouth, his hands were eagerly pulling her panties down and off her legs, his lips instantly connecting with the heated flesh at the apex of her thighs. She swore his tongue and lips were enchanted with the way he was able to effortlessly maneuver his way around, easily picking up on what she loved. 

“Oh Spencer you’re such a good boy.” she couldn’t resist  threading her fingers through his silky hair and tugging slightly, an action she assumed he enjoyed based on the muffled whine she heard from between her thighs. 

It hadn’t even been more than a few minutes before she found herself already on the verge of letting go. No guy had ever been able to make her feel this good and just electric until now. He was quickly ruining her for anyone else in the future. She did not mind in the slightest.

“Baby I really wanna feel you inside me. Is that something you want sweetheart?”

He reluctantly pulled back after a few more kitten licks to her clit, wide eyes finding hers and whimpering out a broken “yes”. More than happy with his response she gently pulled him up by his hair and started undoing his belt, his oversized pants easily falling down without the extra support. Just another thing about him that she had come to adore. She was very pleased by the obvious bulge that protruded through his baby blue checkered boxers. 

Before she pulled those down too, though, she very gently reached up and cupped his cheeks, guiding his plump lips to her own, basking in the delighted whimpers that escaped his mouth at the soft but passionate contact. She released his lips with a slight nip and proceeded with his clothing removal, coaxing him to sit down in the swirly chair he had been previously residing in, before straddling his lap. 

“You ready sweet boy?”, she asked leaning forward to kiss his rouge forehead and cheeks.

“Mhmm I’m r-ready.”

Taking that as the go ahead, she cautiously positioned herself over his throbbing erection before slowly lowering herself inch by inch until he was completely enveloped by her tight, warm walls. 

“Oh-ohh my.”, he whimpered at the overwhelming feeling of being connected so intimately. Gently, she started to move a bit more, hesitantly lifting up before lowering herself back down, flush against his lap, one of her soft hands anchoring herself to his shoulder while the other caressed his flushed cheeks.

“I know baby, I know. You feel so good baby boy I don’t think I’m going to be able to last much longer.”

“M-me neither.”, he stuttered as the pace she had previously set seemed to increase in speed, the excitement and ecstasy getting to the both of them and subconsciously pushing the two of them closer to their shared release. 

The fire was quickly building within her body and she knew she was truly crumbling at the seams, but with the way his body was trembling and his dick was subtly twitching inside of her she knew he was right there too.

“It’s ok baby boy, it’s ok. Cum for me sweet boy. I want you to cum inside and fill up my pussy Spence.”, she muttered feeling the beginning of her end crash unexpectedly throughout her entire being, grasping onto the boy underneath her to tie herself to the earth. 

Overwhelmed by the utter euphoria of Y/n cumming around him, Spencer let himself get thrown off the edge, his hands tightening on her waist hard enough she was sure little bruises would form come tomorrow, not that she minded at all.

“Oh Y/n!” She watched on, obsessed with the way that his mouth fell open in a little o-shape as his eyes squeezed shut, the tell tale signs of pleasure coursing through his veins, the warm feeling that he left deep inside of her as she gently lifted herself from his shaking legs, reaching for her panties before the warmth was able to escape down her damp thighs.

Looking back at the trembling boy after cleaning herself and him up, she couldn’t help but melt at the lovesick, puppy dog eyes he was giving her, prompting her to lean forward and leave more little kisses on the top of his damp hair.

“That was incredible Spence. Really incredible. I’ve never felt anything like that before baby.”

She melted even further at the way he shyly dropped his head to somewhat hide the wide grin that had spread like wildfire across his face. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them before his head lifted with a questioning glance.

“How’d you-I mean uh how did you know that I liked you?” There was no way she could control the giggles that left her lips at his silly question.

“You weren’t exactly subtle with the whole glasses thing Spence.”

And then the only sound heard throughout the building was her full blown laughter at the mortification that speedily adorned his cherry cheeks.

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[reidgraygubler]

night changes (spencer reid/reader)

Title: night changes Requested: no Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader Category: smut Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (virgin!reader, virgin!spencer, loss of virginity (Spencer and Reader), penetrive sex, unprotected sex, fingering, heavy petting, groping/grinding), making out, cuddling, awkward moments, ssn2 Spencer, mentions of drinking Word Count: 5,705 Summary: Spencer and Reader have a lot of firsts together. A/N: I was listening to one direction with my sisters and the song night changes came on and it made me think about spencer and reader being each other’s first. Thank you all so much for the love and support! I appreciate it and you! Check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

Something I hated about the BAU team was that no one’s secrets were safe. Once one person knew something about you, the rest of the team quickly found out. Secrets weren’t safe with anyone. Unfortunately for me, I was still learning that about the team.

I was the youngest and newest member. Recently joined a year after Spencer Reid, and was a year younger than him. Everyone on the team instantly thought us to be friends since we were so close in age, as well as being the newest to the team. Truth is, outside of work, we didn’t really hang out. Everyone thought we did, but we didn’t. 

I’d be a big fat liar though, if I said I didn’t have a crush on him. He’s cute, funny, and genuine. I don’t think he pitied me because I was the youngest, but part of me definitely did think that.

To be honest though, I think everyone on the team pitied me, except for Gideon. I really only got this job- which started off as an internship- because of Gideon, he was my uncle after all. 

One night, Penelope had invited the women of the team over for girls’ night. And that particular night I had too many drinks and let them know a secret. A secret I wished no one knew. It’s not something I should exactly be ashamed of, though. 

I’m a 24 year old virgin. But, like I said, I shouldn’t be ashamed of that. Just compared to the other women on the team… It was a little embarrassing. I was just happy that they all agreed to keep their mouths shut and not tease me about it in front of the others.

That didn’t last too long… Because Derek freaking Morgan wanted to play Truth or Dare the one night we all had to stay late to finish paperwork. He claimed it was “To keep us young”. A bullshit of a claim if you ask me.

“Truth or Dare? Are you serious? What are we, 12?” I scoffed before sipping my tea. Spencer looked over his glasses at me with a raised brow. Derek scowled as he looked at me.

“Truth or dare, Sunshine?” He asked as he kept his eyes on me as I shuffled through the paperwork on my desk. I rubbed my forehead with the pads of my finger tips before looking over at him with pure annoyance on my face.

“Truth,” I stated firmly. I just hope my annoyance was known. 

“When was the last time you got laid?”

“How mature.”

“When was it?” 

“Derek, please…” I looked at him as I pleaded. I really didn’t want to let this out. “Three nights ago,” I lied as I looked down at the papers on my desk. Derek catcalled while everyone else just stayed silent.

“Seriously?”

“No. Not three nights ago. Unless it was with some guy in Arizona,” I scoffed, pointing out that we were on a case, in Arizona, at that time. Derek looked at me with a raised brow. “It’s been a while,” I lied again. I pressed my hand to my face, hoping to leave it at that.

“That’s not what I was told,” JJ whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear. I pulled my hand away from my face and looked at her with wide eyes. 

“Jennifer,” I warned. She looked away from me the moment my eyes locked with hers. My heart dropped to my stomach, and an anxious feeling bubbled up my throat. 

“What does she mean, Sunshine?” Derek looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I let out a deep sigh before pressing both my hands to my face.

When I finally pulled my hands away from my face and looked around the room, I noted that everyone was looking my way. Everyone except for Aaron and Jason. Thank God they were in their own conversation and not listening to the childish conversations the rest of the team were having. 

“You’re a profiler. You figure it out,” I shrugged as I looked right at Derek. JJ and Emily shared a look as I stared at him.

“I might be a profiler. But you’ve given me no information…” Derek squinted at me as he spoke. I stared at him, staying quiet while he figured it out. I shifted slightly in my seat as I waited for his next “deduction”.

But I didn’t have to wait for his continuation. Because someone else had something to say, someone who had been quiet the entire time this was going on.

“You’re a virgin,” Spencer spoke out of nowhere. I looked over at him with wide eyes. I could feel heat grow ablaze across my face as I stared at him. If my silence wasn’t enough of an answer, I’m not sure what was. 

“Oh our little Sunshine is a late bloomer. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.” Derek smiled at me. I dropped my shoulders as I stared at him.

“I hate all of you,” I muttered as I put all my things in my bag. 

“C’mon we were just messing around.” Derek tried to stop me as I stood. I looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yeah, at the expense of my personal life,” I gestured at myself out of annoyance. “I’m gonna finish these at home. If anyone needs me I’ll be there. I’ll see you guys then.” I shrugged as I walked towards the elevators.

I couldn’t help the angered noises that escaped my mouth. Of course Spencer Reid would figure it out of all the people there. 

“Hey! Hey, wait up!” A voice shouted from behind me as I got closer to the doors. I froze just as my fingers hovered over the buttons of the elevator. “Wait!” 

“I’m waiting, Spencer,” I muttered as I withdrew my hand away from the buttons. He appeared beside me and pressed the buttons for me. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t mean to.” He looked over at me as he spoke. I looked back at him and shrugged.

“It’s not your fault. It’s Derek’s,” I muttered as I stepped on the elevator. Spencer stepped on beside me.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin.” Spencer looked over at me as he spoke. I glanced at him and shrugged. 

“Yeah, well it feels like a bad thing when everyone on the team has had sex except for me,” I sighed deeply. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Spencer asked, sounding almost offended with my statement. I looked at him and laughed.

“We can’t all be Lila Archer or Jennifer Jareau, Spencer,” I shyly smiled at him. I had known about Lila Archer and what had happened between them. And I even knew what happened between him and JJ. 

“I’m still a virgin,” he stated so calmly that I almost didn’t take him seriously.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I’ve never had sex with anyone.” 

“But…” my words trailed off, as did my train of thought. Spencer looked at me with a smile before he shrugged. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin,” he whispered before he stepped off the elevator.

{***}{***}{***}

It felt almost impossible to breathe. I don’t have time to explain why it felt impossible to breathe, it was just hard. Spencer Reid was coming over… Not just as a friend. No, he was coming over for a date. 

Like I said, I didn’t have time to explain. Three striking knocks on the door pulled me from my own thoughts. I looked over at it with wide eyes before I swallowed roughly. 

I straightened out a few things sitting on the coffee table, and myself, before I rushed to the door. When I pulled it open, Spencer was standing on the other side. He was looking down at me with a smile. 

He was wearing a dark blue, chunky sweater over a white button up and black tie. Black slacks hugged his hips, and black dress shoes covered his feet. Glasses sat on his nose, in front of his eyes, and his hair was combed over to the side. 

The difficult feeling of not being able to breathe returned quickly the longer I stared at him. To be fair, he stared back at me, a small smile growing on his lips. I hated how long we stayed quiet as we stared at each other. 

“H-Hi,” Spencer finally spoke. I swallowed roughly and nodded as I hid behind the door a bit more.

“Hi,” I whispered as I stared at him. 

“Are… Are you going to let me in?” he asked softly. I jumped once I realized he was still standing outside. I stepped away from the door and pulled it open more, silently inviting him in.

“S-Sorry. I just…” I watched as he walked into my living room. He turned and looked at me, watching as I shut and locked the door. 

“It’s okay. I was a little nervous walking up the driveway,” he nervously laughed. I smiled and nodded.

“Well! I have snacks! And… And water! I don’t have a movie queued up yet because I wasn’t sure what you wanted to watch…” I held my hands together as I walked into the living room a bit more.

“Oh! We can…”

“I have a bunch of Disney movies… If you want to watch a Disney movie. Have you seen Emperor’s New Groove?” I asked, as I nervously pulled at my fingertips. Spencer looked at my hands before looking up at my face. I hope he could pick up on the anxiety I was feeling. And if he did, he didn’t say anything about it. Thankfully.

“No, I haven’t. Is it good?” 

“I’ll put it on.” I nervously smiled before going to my TV to get the movie ready. Spencer quietly took a seat on the couch as I put the DVD in the DVD player. Once the movie was in, I stood up and went to join him. I sat on the opposite end of the couch.

Of course, by the time we got to the halfway point of the movie, I was sitting closer to him, and even holding his hand. It did take a little convincing for him to do that though. 

And then we were at the end. The credits were about 5 minutes away from rolling. My head rested on his shoulder. We were very comfortable with the little bit of cuddling that was happening. 

“Hey Spencer…” I mumbled, as I lifted my head off his shoulder. Spencer looked over at me with a mildly worried look in his eyes. “C-Can we kiss?” 

“Y-you want… I’m sorry, you want to kiss… Me?” he asked as he looked at me. I looked back at his face and nodded. I quickly looked down and away from him once I realized how stupid that question was.

“We don’t have to… It was just a silly question… I was just thinking about our conversation the other day… And, well… Just ignore me,” I muttered as I waved off the question. I hated this feeling that I felt. 

“Silly question?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Do you… Want to kiss?” 

‘Well yeah, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.’ I thought to myself. I looked up at Spencer, and nodded. I didn’t trust myself enough to speak. 

“R-Right now?” 

“Like I said, we don’t-” my thought was cut off by Spencer awkwardly resting his hand on my face and bringing my face to his. Our lips lightly touched.

I don’t know why I do these things to myself. Because I almost couldn’t breathe just with the thought of kissing him. But now it’s actually happening and I was holding my breath. 

Spencer’s lips were soft, yet mildly chapped. He was so gentle, and I loved it. I loved every moment of it. While one of his hands held my face, his other hand held mine. It made me feel calm and safe. But Spencer had that effect on me. He carefully moved his head and deepened the kiss. Our noses smushed together as he moved. 

After a few moments passed, we pulled away from each other. I kept still and my eyes closed. My body was trying to regulate itself and teach itself to breathe again.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked after a moment of silence. I swallowed roughly and nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m… Okay.” 

“Was that up to your expectations?”

“Honestly?” I asked and looked at him. He nodded his head lightly. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” I whispered. 

I don’t know a lot of things. But I do know this kiss was the best thing to happen to me. {***}{***}{***}

The kiss was… several weeks ago and nothing came of it. Everything went back to normal after the date and we didn’t speak of it. I learned my lesson though and didn’t give any details to the other women of the team. 

Just when I thought things were okay, Spencer and I were forced to share a room while on a case. I never had an issue before sharing a room with him. But this was the first time we’d be spending time alone together since the date and kiss.  And to make matters even worse for both of us… it wasn't just the room we were sharing. It was the bed too.

The tension in the room was high. It was just a kiss for christ’s sake. It was the bed that made it awkward. If we had two queens, like we were told, I’m sure there’d be no awkwardness about this. But unfortunately for both of us… We didn’t get the two queens.

Spencer sat on the far side and I sat on the other side of the bed. There was enough space between us to allow at least another adult to join us. He was reading a book, whereas I was reading over the file. 

I hated the tension in the room.

“I’m going to shower,” Spencer announced to the room. I looked away from the folder I was holding and at him.

“Okay. Good luck,” I smiled softly at him. He looked back at me and nodded before entering the bathroom. I dropped my file to my lap before slipping off the bed and going to the fridge. He was a quick shower person, so I doubt he’ll be in there too long. I just had to keep busy till he came back out, then I could go to sleep. I don’t want him worrying about waking me up. 

Once I had a snack, I returned to my seat on the bed. Deciding I was finished with the gory details of the case file, I clicked the television on, going through the channels before deciding to shut it off. Why would anything good be on TV in a hotel in the middle of nowhere? Sitting in the silence of the room was better than the garbage soap operas.

After about 10 minutes of my loneliness, the bathroom door opened, and out stepped Spencer, with just a towel around his waist. It was so hard to keep my eyes off him. This was torturous… This was honest to God all on him. He probably knew what he was doing.

“Forgot my clothes.” He looked at me with an awkward smile as he lifted his clothes. I looked up at his face and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah,” I whispered as I looked at the apple core in my hand. 

Sure. I’m sure that’s exactly what you did.

I watched as he quickly went back into the bathroom. I closed my eyes just as he looked back at me. I silently prayed that he didn’t notice my staring. But who am I to kid? It’s Spencer freaking Reid. He definitely noticed me staring.

Spencer came back out, this time wearing his pajamas, which consisted of a matching set of a light blue button up sleep shirt, and light blue bottoms, five minutes later.  He quietly took his spot on his side of the bed, sitting on the very edge. I hated how much space was between us, and I hated how tense it was. 

The silence in the room was only occupied by the pages of Spencer’s book being turned. I hated the silence too. It was hard to say how much time passed, but it was a while before anything was said. 

I looked over at him, watching him for a moment before saying, “Is everything okay?” I paused and swallowed roughly. “Between us, I mean?” I looked at Spencer with a worried crease in my brow. He looked back at me, a confused expression on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, why wouldn’t we be? Did somethin-”

“We’ve been walking on eggshells since we kissed each other. And that was so long ago, Spencer. I was just making sure…”

“No, nothing’s wrong between us. I promise.” 

“You were my first kiss, you know,” I whispered as I looked up at him. He looked back at me with a nervous look in his eyes. 

“I wish I could say you were mine…” Spencer returned with a certain sadness in his words. He moved so he was standing between my legs. 

“It was a damn good first kiss, too,” I laughed sadly. Spencer raised an eyebrow before grasping both my hands. “I like you, you know,” I finally looked up at him, “And I have for a while.”

“I like you, too,” he finally said, as he placed his book on the night stand.

“No, not like… I like like you, Spencer. Not as a friend,” I muttered as I looked away.

“I know,” he whispered. I looked up at him, feeling my heart leap to my throat. “Me too.”

I really thought he just liked me as ‘just friends’. I thought that for a while, too. But why else would he kiss me? Maybe it was a pity kiss? But it was such a nice kiss. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.” Spencer nodded with a bright smile. I smiled as he reached for my hand. “I was surprised when you asked to kiss me because I didn’t think you liked me that way.”

“Why else would I ask you to kiss me?!”

“Well… I don’t know.”

“K-Kiss me again… If you like me, kiss me again,” I whispered, as I looked up at his face. Spencer looked back at me before slowly leaning over to me. 

Our lips met in a tender kiss. And after a brief moment, we both deepened it. My hands lifted to hold his face as Spencer moved to straddle my waist. My body slowly slipped down the bed, and Spencer followed along. I laid down, perfectly on the pillow with Spencer holding himself over me. It was like there was a silent understanding. We both wanted more, but we didn’t want to be vocal about it… yet.

Something was about to change tonight… Actually, a lot of things were going to change tonight.

Spencer wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting my body up into his. He delicately pressed his hips into mine, prompting a soft moan to come from me. My fingers got tangled in his hair, gently tugging at it. I quickly brought my hands to hold his face, keeping him in place. Another soft moan fell from my lips, causing Spencer to freeze. I didn’t mean to moan. It was just an accident.

“Wait, wait,” Spencer breathed out against my lips. “We should seriously think about this before we do anything else,” he said as he pushed away from me. I looked up at him with eyes.

He quickly rushed off the bed, almost falling into the dresser. I sat up a little bit and watched as he paced back and forth in front of the bed. Seriously think about it before anything happens… And if nothing happens, nothing happens, it’ll be fine.

I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, waiting. Spencer stood a few feet away, talking to himself. I understood why though. I mean, I was talking to myself too, trying to get myself off the edge. My heart was going a million miles an hour, like I was a roadrunner outrunning a coyote. 

Spencer continued walking back and forth, his hands going through his hair as he muttered to himself.

I looked up at him before I spoke. "We don't have to have sex-" 

"I know," Spencer cut me off before looking over at me. I lifted my arms to cover my chest as he stared. "I want to. I want to do this," he stepped closer to me. “You’re the person I want to do this with.”

I looked at him, watching as he lifted a hand to my face. 

“I want to do this with you too, but if you’re going to think so hard about it… Maybe we shouldn’t,” I whispered as I brought a hand to his. A small smile grew across his lips before he nodded.

“I agree. I want to do this. However… I’m ready. I’m not thinking too hard about it. And I want to do this with you,” he repeated.

“I want to do this with you, too.” I smiled softly. Spencer smiled again before meeting to kiss me. 

As he continued kissing, we moved back up on the bed. Just like before, his arms wrapped around my waist. His hips ground against mine, eliciting another soft moan from me. My hands found their way to his shirt, pulling at it and the buttons to rip it open. Neither of us cared that buttons popped off and flew all over. 

My fingers danced up and down his chest, tracing over the faint definition on his chest. Spencer smiled softly against my mouth. He pulled one of his hands away from my back, and rested it at the top of my shorts, right on my bare hip.

“Keep… Keep touching me,” I mumbled as I held his face close to mine. A small, but nervous, smile grew across his lips as he slipped his hand up my shirt. His fingers danced along my sides as he worked his way up to my bra. My breathing slowly grew ragged as he brushed against the hooks of my bra. “M-More,” I stumbled over my words.

Spencer laughed softly as he struggled to unhook my bra. I smiled once the hooks were undone. His hand was so gentle over my breast that it took my breath away. He massaged the supple skin, causing soft moans to come from me. I took a deep breath as he continued rolling his hips into the thin fabric of my pajama shorts. It was intoxicating how large his bulge felt between my legs, nearly breathtaking.  

I needed more from him. He wasn’t touching me enough. 

“I-I need more,” I cried against his lips. Spencer looked down at me, his eyes filled and blown out from the lust. He carefully brought his hand back down to my shorts. My stomach flinched at the delicate touches he made before he was cupping over my clothed sex.

My body instinctively moved away from him. When Spencer sensed my slight uneasiness, he went to remove his hand. But I stopped him, grabbing his wrist and keeping his hand against me. When he realized that this was really what I wanted, he nodded lightly before carefully pushing past the waistband of my pants. 

“Is this okay?” Spencer murmured against my lips. I gasped lightly as his finger moved against me. 

“I-It feels so good, Spencer,” I gasped as his movements hastened. I threw my arms around his neck before pulling him lower to me. I quickly buried my face in the nape of his neck. Soft and strangled moans fell from my lips, into his skin. 

Any conversation between us stopped, and the room was filled with my pitiful moans. Everything he was doing felt so good, any thought I had quickly went away the moment it came. 

“Keep going…” I breathed out. I could feel a tension in my stomach, getting close to popping. It was impossible to stay quiet at this point. Spencer gently pressed a finger into my entrance. The heel of his palm brushed against my clit, causing me to squeal from pleasure and excitement.

 I just hope no one else on the team was in the neighboring rooms… 

“I’m so close, Spen-Ahh.” My words were cut off by a louder moan than before. 

Spencer kept his movements going as he started to whisper soft nothings into my ear. When he started pressing his lips against my jawbone, everything came crashing in. My body jerked slightly and my moans got a little louder. It felt as if the only thing I could say was Spencer’s name. 

Once I was for sure down from my high, Spencer looked down at me with an amused expression on his face.

“W-wait, that’s not it.” I brought my hands back to his face. Spencer smiled and nodded. 

“No that’s not it. I don’t want that to be it,” he whispered before pressing his lips to mine. He guided me back up so I was in a sitting position. I pushed my hands over his shoulders, pushing his shirt off in one go. Then I moved my hands to his sweats. 

“Are we really about to do this?” I asked, mostly to myself, as I played with the drawstrings of his sweats. 

“We do-”

“You keep saying that and it makes me think you don’t want this,” I pointed out as I lifted my head to look at him. But what I didn’t realize was how close his head was to mine, causing me to bash my head into his face. “Oh my god! Are you okay!? I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay,” Spencer spoke as he held his face. I looked at him and nodded. I was so happy his nose wasn’t bleeding. That would’ve killed the moment way more than it was already.

“Well, now I’m sure you don’t want to make love with me,” I mumbled as I looked away. Spencer quickly brought his hand to my face, coaxing me to look at him. 

“I never said that. It was an accident.” 

“So you do?” 

Instead of answering me with words, Spencer pressed his lips back to mine. I took a deep breath as he started pulling my shirt off. Our shirts, and my bra both sat on the floor in a pitiful pile. His hands went back to my shorts, helping me take them off. 

Spencer pushed me back against the bed before pulling his pants off. I looked up at him as he moved to hover over me. I could feel my breathing pick up, feeling my chest tighten the more serious this moment got. 

"Are you sure?" Spencer asked from between my legs. I watched as he carefully lowered so he was closer to my face. 

"I'm sure, I'm ready," I whispered and looked up at him. "Are you sure?" 

"Positive," he whispered with a smile. He gently grabbed one of my hands off my chest and held it beside my head. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled. I realized my words didn't sound too convincing. But I swear I was fine. "Just scared."

"You don't have to be scared. Nothing bad is going to happen,” he whispered. Part of me almost said, out loud, ‘That we know of’ but my excitement was bigger than my terror. 

"I know… I'm just… I freaked myself out. That's all." I nervously chuckled. Spencer smiled before carefully pecking my lips. "I mean, we made it this far…"

"It's not too late to back down now."

"No, I know… I want this. Please. Please tell me you want it too."

"I only want to do this with you," he whispered. He lifted our hands up and pressed his lips to my knuckles, "Ready?"

"Yeah, yeah," I whispered. My free hand quickly fell away from my chest and then grasped the sheet beside me. My grip was so tight that I was partly worried there’d be holes in the cloth when we were finished.

Spencer looked down at me with a kindness in his eyes. My legs were parted and sat on either side of him, making for easy access. He carefully pressed the head of his cock at my still sensitive sex. My eyes fell shut and my head tilted back as he pressed into me. 

It was slow at first. Spencer pressed into me inch by inch every few seconds. Once he was fully in me, we both froze, trying to adjust to each other. My legs tensed the moment he bottomed out. Every ounce of air that was in me was knocked from my lungs. 

I opened my eyes and looked up at Spencer. He was off in another world, his eyes glued to where our bodies met. I wondered what was going through his head at what he saw and what he was feeling. I just knew what I was feeling and saw.

Which was, I felt amazing and complete. And Spencer looked ethereal in this very moment. We fit together like a puzzle piece. Everyone always said sex was overrated and boring. But I was ready to argue that. I loved this intimacy between us.

Spencer finally looked up at me with a small smile. It was obvious he didn’t know what to do, exactly. Granted I wasn’t entirely sure what to do either. 

“M-Move,” I instructed, as I lifted for his hands. He widened his eyes once he realized what he was doing. He grasped my hand before starting to roll his hips like before. A high pitched whine came from my throat as he moved slowly.

Spencer looked down at me with a concerned look in his eyes. He cautiously moved so his face was over mine. I swallowed roughly and looked up at him.

“Are you- Is this okay?” Spencer’s voice was gentle as he held my face. I bit my lips together and nodded lightly. My muscles clenched around him once the pleasure slowly started to build up again.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just… Keep going, please,” I whimpered against his lips. Spencer nodded, again, before pressing his lips to mine. 

“God, you feel so good! I-I’ve never felt anything like you,” Spencer moaned into my ear. Another moan came from the pit of my stomach. 

I couldn’t stop myself when my hips jerked up to meet his, intensifying the feelings. As Spencer continued to move his hips against me, our lips stayed together. My hands cupped his face as we moaned into each other's mouths. 

“W-Wait, I wanna. I wanna see,” I murmured against his lips before pushing him away. He looked down at me with pure adoration in his eyes, watching as I looked down at where we connected. And then I realized why he was staring for so long. I quickly looked back up at him with wide eyes. “You also feel so good.” I smiled weakly, as my fingers slipped down to hold his jaw. Spencer returned the smile before pressing his lips to mine. “I love you,” I breathlessly whispered. He looked at me with a soft smile and nodded. 

“I love you, too.” 

It was hard to say how much longer we both lasted, but it wasn’t too long. His movements quickened, but also grew sloppy the closer he got. I quickly moved a hand between our bodies and began moving my fingers over my clit. 

“Cum with me, please,” Spencer begged into my ear. I gasped and nodded. After a few more faulty movements, I came, and moments later Spencer came, filling me with an unfamiliar warmth in my stomach. 

Spencer fell onto the bed beside me. His breathing heavy as he tried to catch his breath. I smiled as I looked at him, moving closer to him as I continued to crave his touch.

“I didn’t know you knew what to do,” I laughed nervously as I looked up at him. Spencer laughed as he looked back down at me. 

“N-Neither did I… I just continued doing whatever was making you moan,” he returned the laughter before moving closer to me. I smiled when he wrapped his arms around me. “Was it everything you were expecting?”

“I’m not sure what I was expecting… But yeah, it was.” I smiled and nodded. I looked up at him, watching as his features softened. “You?

“Amazing, because I did it with you.” 

“I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” I smiled before reaching to kiss him. “I should shower… I hate the feeling of sweat and,” I paused for a moment, thinking about how raunchy what I was about to say was. “Cum... dripping from my body.”

“Sounds good,” Spencer whispered before pressing his lips to mine. “I’ll wait till you get out to clean-”

“You can come with, Weirdo.” I pulled his hand and dragged him out of the bed.

{***}{***}{***}

“Heard this weird noise coming from the room next over from mine,” Derek spoke as he looked over at Spencer. I choked on my coffee and looked down at the table with wide eyes. “You get lucky last night, Pretty Boy?”

“Uh, I… Well…”

“Yeah, that’s… We were hearing weird noises from the room next to ours, too,” Emily pointed out as she looked at JJ. I swallowed roughly. I could feel my cheeks instantly heating up with everything that was about to happen.

“Who’s the lucky lady, Reid?” Derek asked. I looked over at Spencer, watching as his face turned three shades red. 

“Well, who’s the lucky guy?” JJ looked at me with a smirk. Emily and  Derek looked at each other, before looking at Spencer and I.

“No-” 

“-You guys didn’t.” They spoke over each other once they realized what we had done.

“Hey, Spencer, truth or dare?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth…”

“Did we have sex last night?”

if you want to be a part of a taglist (lmk if ur 18+ for smut) or have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here

taglist:  @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @spencersmagic @muffin-cup @thebluetint @misshale21 @spenciegoob @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @flipperpenguins​ @kuolonsyoja​

[fatesdeepdive]

Entry 93: Amiibo Amiile

Four Fire Emblem characters appeared in Super Smash Bros. for Wii U and 3DS. Each was given an amiibo. Using these amiibos on one of the later 3DSs lets you unlock a special chapter where you fight these characters. All of these fights take place in the field from Chapter 6, instead of a hero related map, which is disappointing. 

Hero Battle 1: Hero-King Marth

Marth visits the Castle three times, challenging Corrin to a battle on the third one. In his visits Marth talks about the wars in Archanea and the joy of battle and growing stronger. Marth is apparently the Excelblem version. Like seriously man your friends died. Also Marth shills Corrin's sword skills.

In his battle, Marth is accompanied by generic units meant to represent Jagen, Caeda, Cain, Abel, Draug, and Gordin.

Hero Battle 2: Radiant Hero Ike

Ike says the world is filled with worthy opponents. Also bandits. He talks about his desire for a good brawl, hahaha he debuted in Brawl get it? Also he says he misses battle, continuing the trend of these beloved characters being bloodthirsty.

In his battle, Ike is accompanied by generic units meant to represent Mist, Soren, Oscar, Boyd, Rolf, Gatrie, and Shinon.

Hero Battle 3: Princess Lucina

Why the hell is Lucina just called princess? Everyone else gets cool titles. How about Future Hero, or Awakened Exalt? Lucina is too cool of a character for this disrespect.

Lucina isn't surprised by being teleported because she's been through this before. She says her father told her that bonds are stronger than destiny, and fuck yeah they are. Remember how Awakening was about something? That was nice.

Lucina has unique dialogue if she fights her friends from Awakening. They all ask her not to use their real names. Lucina's cousin Odin notices that she isn't the Lucina he knows, which is interesting; perhaps he can tell she's the version from the AU where Grima is Captain Falcon. Laslow hits on her. Selena also notices she isn't the real Lucina and, in a dark line, says she's used to fighting fiends that looked like friends. Is she referring to Morgan or Robin? Whatever. It's nice there's unique dialogue, but I'm disappointed there isn't more emotion. These three should be overjoyed or sobbing to see an old friend!

In her battle, Lucina is accompanied by generic units meant to represent Gerome, Inigo, Owain, Morgan, and Cynthia. So I guess Selena was right about fighting friends.

Hero Battle 4: Grandmaster Robin

Robin initially has amnesia, just like in Awakening, but gets over it quickly. Robin is troubled by the endless war Corrin faces, while noting he's experienced it before. And yes I know they're talking about Smash and Ike and Marth aren't actually evil, but still they don't say Smash so I'm assuming it's normal Marth but sadistic.

Like Lucina, he has dialogue with the Awakening trio. None with Rhajat, Caeldori, or Asugi, though. All three of the Awakening trio recognize Robin, but he doesn't recognize them. Selena and Odin again note Robin isn't the real Robin, with Selena angrily calling him an imposter. Amongus. Laslow doesn't notice he isn't the real Robin because he is stupid.

In his battle, Robin is accompanied by generic units meant to represent Chrom, Lissa, and Fredrick. Why did he get less units? That isn’t fair.

Support: Charlotte/Xander

C: Xander has a serious meeting with Charlotte to discuss reports of her causing disruptions in the army. He tells her her behavior isn't appropriate and warns her to not embarrass Nohr again. B: Charlotte tries her normal lunch trick. Xander doesn't fall from it, having heard of her doing it before. Again, he demands she stop.

A: Charlotte saves Xander from some faceless with her bare hands. She explains her poor sad backstory. Xander says she doesn't have to change her behavior now for some reason.

S: Xander says he's always loved Charlotte. I don't buy it.

Review: First two are great, with Xander being the only character to see through Charlotte’s bullshit. Then he decides it's fine, which ruins the Support line.

Support: Niles/Selena

C: Niles distrusts Selena because of the whole popped up from another universe with no explanation thing.

B: Niles spies on Selena while she's shopping and criticizes her shopping choices.

A: Niles explains that Selena is selfish, impatient, and a sore loser. Also she's loyal I guess. Niles declares them to be friends.

S: Niles decides to keep spying on Selena because he likes her.

Review: Fairly average.

Support: Elise/Silas

C: Silas feeds a starving family on Elise's request. She asks what he wants as a reward and he asks for her to act like his sister for a day, because she and Corrin seem so happy together.

B: Elise asks what they should do and Silas suggests they argue, because that's what siblings do. Elise suggests sparring, but Silas refuses because he doesn't want to hurt her.

A: They have a tea party.

S: Silas proposes, because this game is so incest horny that even play siblings get together. Review: Fine, but not astounding in any way.

Support: Beruka/Jakob

C: Jakob, knowing Beruka’s assassin past, hires her to clear out bugs in the pantry. Beruka is not amused.

B: Jakob asks again and Beruka says she doesn't know how to kill bugs, only people, because of tragic backstory.

A: Beruka feels she is changing, starting to care about other people. This scares her. Jakob asks how much she values her old lonely self and that, if she dislikes it, she should rejoice in the change.

S: Jakob says he loves Beruka. She assumes it's a joke. He explains that he too has changed. Review: An incredibly good A-Rank surrounded by average quality Supports.

[imaginesfor-thesoul]

spencer reid x Hotch! daughter 

PART TWO ( you can find part one here)

word count: 3.7k 

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, thank you guys so much for all the support on the first part.

:: :: :: 

The board room in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI was bustling. To an unfamiliar eye, the scattered papers, photographs and maps all across the floor would indicate that a hurricane had blown through the room. Though this madness, as chaotic as it may be, was a methodical look into a profilers brain.

In the eye of the hurricane, sat (y/n). She would fidget with the rings on her fingers or tap her foot against the ground. Now two days into the investigation, the possibility that they may not find Lacy alive plagued (y/n). 

Across the room, Spencer Reid was working on a geographical profile centered around the home that Amber (deceased), Lacy (missing) and (y/n) (Currently fucking terrified) shared.

“I’ve been looking over the note that the unsub left, I noticed something in the second line.” Prentiss announced. “-and don’t worry, I cared for Amber in her last moments. I took her last breath with poise and precision” She quoted.

(y/n)’s foot tapped a little harder. Unbeknownst to her, noted by a gentle eyed Spencer. 

Prentiss continued, “The emphasis on care, precision and poise determines almost a sincere effort to impress and please whoever found the note. These sound like the words of a female unsub. An incredibly insecure female unsub at that.”  She concluded. 

The team collectively agreed with this theory and continued on. 

Derek sat down at the table next to (y/n). “So, we know you’ve still got your phone on you, have you turned it on since you left?” He asked.

(y/n) shook her head “No, I haven’t just incase it’s being tapped.” Suddenly her fingernails became oh so interesting once more. 

Derek nodded in understanding. “Right, okay, now listen (y/n), I know it’s going to be scary but after we give the profile and do the press conference, I’m going to need you to turn that phone back on for me, it may be our only contact with our unsub.” 

This made (y/n)’s heart feel as though it were about to stop. The continual state of shock and fear that she remained in, had manifested  a sense of detachment and disconnect to the whole case. This roped her right back in to the center of the case. 

A quick nod was enough of answer for Derek as he shot a friendly wink her way. Getting up he said “Thanks kid, you know, you’re really doing great.” Before walking off. 

Replacing Dereks absence, (y/n)’s father, SSA Aaron Hotchner took a seat next to his visibly overwhelmed daughter. “How are you holding up?” He placed a loving arm around her shoulder and pulled her in.

A quiet stream of tears slid down her cheek as she hid her face into his chest, “I’m ready to wake up now, dad.” 

This killed him. A breaking father holding his broken daughter.

(y/n) held her head back up and excused herself to the restroom.

Above the hum in the room, Hotch cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s eager attention. “We are ready to present our profile. JJ, get in contact with the local PD’s and bring them all here this afternoon, we are going to need as much help as we can get.”

JJ nodded obediently and rushed out of the room straight to her office. 

:: :: ::

(y/n) sat quietly and patiently as she listened to her father and his team deliver their profile. They determined that the unsub was female, insecure and incredibly manic. The impulsive nature of this unsub means that anyone in contact with her must be prepared for her erratic behavior. This behavior may present itself through violence, self harm, or fleeing. 

Every mention of Lacy and Amber made her flinch. She knew what she had to do once these meetings were over, and she was terrified.

The core team filed back into the board room and (y/n) placed her phone onto the table. Morgan spoke up. “If you are right about the unsub tapping your phone, shortly after turning it on there is a large chance our unsub will try to contact you.”

“Reid!” Hotch grabbed the young genius’ attention. “Can you prep (y/n) for the call, it has to be her on the phone.” 

(y/n) and Spencer sat down across from each other next to a window. Far from all the chatter. Reid looked at (y/n). And suddenly, momentarily, it was like they were back on the floor of the bullpen. Something about the two of them was magnetic, there was no longer a killer that had killed one roommate and kidnapped the other, there was no unsub, no threat of security. But for now, there was a more pressing issue hand, so this spontaneous, charismatic revelation of love and soul would have to be pushed to the side. Though a silent mutual understanding had been made next to that window. That was for later.

Clearing his throat, Reid began. “Right, I’ll go over the basics for you.” He was being overly professional. Not only does he have FBI guidelines to follow, but also this gorgeous, incredible young woman’s father right across the room. Suppressing every urge in his being, he continued.

(y/n) listened with wide eyes, panic blowing on the back of her neck. 

“You need to keep the unsub on the phone for as long as you can, okay? Garcia will be tracking where the call is coming from, but the more time she has the better.”  Reid hesitated when he saw (y/n)’s hand begin to tremble. All he want to do was place her small hand in his, look her in the eye and assure her that everything will be okay. But he couldn’t. He cleared his throat “Um okay also, don’t let the conversation get off topic, we want as many hints as to where Lacy could be, her…condition-” 

A glaze glimmered across (y/n)’s eyes. The saddest glimmer the young profiler had ever seen. Reid could see she was trying to hold it together. 

“We’ll all be here with you. Your father, Rossi, all of us.”  (y/n) nodded, a lone tear escaping her.

Instinctively, Reid’s hand lay gently on top of her own. He gave in to yearning. The second (y/n) and Reid finally connected, a new star found its way into the sky. A rosebud bloomed and all the birds sang.

“I’ll be there.” He concluded.

(y/n)’s heart was fighting its way out of her chest. “Okay…” She began. “I can do this, we can do this.”

Reid nodded.

“For Lacy.”

“(y/n), Reid. We’re all set up. Ready when you are.” Garcia announced from across the room.

Reid quickly detracted his hand, (y/n) instantly felt a sense of loss and longing for its return.

Taking a deep breath, (y/n) responded back with a (hopefully) confident sounded “I’m ready.”

She sharply stood up and found her way over to the large table where the rest of the team had already crowded around. A speaker sat in the center, as well as veins of wires spreading between all sorts of machinery.

Taking a seat next to her father, she felt his hand make its way to her shoulder. 

“You’ve got this, (y/n). I’m right here next to you. She can’t hurt you from here.” Hotch told his shaking daughter. She leaned into his hand before sitting back up straight.

“Okay… turn it on.”

Garcia reached across the table grabbing the phone. Holding down the power button, the screen began to light up. The room got silent.

36 seconds.

36 seconds of sheer panic.

36 seconds of pure silence.

36 seconds and (y/n) and Spencer Reid’s eyes did not leave one and others.

The hum of a ringtone slices through the silence. The tension cut short. 

“Show time.” Rossi says quietly, shooting (y/n) a look of encouragement. 

(y/n) looks to her father one last time before grabbing the phone. “Hello?” She asks. Struggling to hear anything past the bulldozing beat of her screaming heart. 

Garcia connects the phone to the speaker so everyone could hear. 

There was a low trill which was slowly getting louder. a laugh. not a maniacal laugh. more like a hysterical, painful, uncontrollable roar. 

All eyes across the table dart to one and other, not entirely sure of how to proceed. 

The laughing finally ceases. “It’s good to hear from you, (y/n). I’ve missed you.” The woman drawls. 

A shiver ran down her spine. “Do you have Lacy?” (y/n) ignored the tremble in her voice, using all of her power to not burst into tears. 

The woman on the phone chuckled once more. “You mean the bitch that won’t stop whining and screaming?! I’m surprised you can’t hear her.”

Prentiss nodded and whispered in a hushed tone “This is a good sign Lacy’s still alive.”

Morgan leaned over to Garcia. “You got it, baby girl?” He asked

“Just need a little longer to work my magic” Garcia responded. 

“C-can i talk to her?” (y/n) asked. 

Spencer looks to her worryingly. As if trying to warn her, she may not like what she hears. 

There was a slight pause, the static on the line held steady. 

“I think that’s going to have to be a no.” The woman on the phone decided.  “Bye now, (y/n) See you soon.” She said

Before (y/n) could even process, the line goes dead. She instantly looks to Garcia. “We’ve got a location!” She announces

A big sigh of relief falls over the table. 

Hotch stands quickly, grabbing his jacket. “Right, let’s head out.”

:: :: :: 

Crammed in the SUV, Hotch and (y/n) took the front two seats, with Hotch driving. Spencer and Rossi took the back two seats, and the others traveled in a operate vehicle. 

“So we can definitely determine that you have come in contact with this unsub before, or at least she has come in contact with you.”  Spencer piped up while Hotch weaved through traffic.

“Did you recognize their voice?”Rossi asks (y/n).

(y/n) was once again fiddling with the rings on her fingers, “Uh…no, I don’t think I did.” The entire car ride her thoughts felt like the static on the other end of that phone call. She couldn’t think of any thing other than Lacy. Hoping, pleading that she would be okay.

A petit blue house at the end of a road was surrounded by flashing sirens and yellow tape.  This was it. (y/n) thought. They were getting Lacy back.

Hopping out of the van, (y/n) was instantly fitted with a bulletproof vest.  Her father, also wearing a vest, made his way towards her. “Listen, there’s a chance that we’re going to need you in there. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t come to that. But I need you to be ready… just in case, okay?” Hotch looked at his daughter, the pair both had matching vests and matching teary eyes.

Not letting any tears spill, (y/n) nodded harshly. “Okay, I just can’t wait for this to be over.”

Hotchner sighed and agreed. “Me too kid-“ Placing his hands on her shoulders, he continued “We’ve got to go in now. I love you, (y/n). Always.” He pulled her into a welcome bone-crushing hug.  

“I love you too, Dad.” She whispered, before letting go, and watching her dad, Prentiss and Morgan file into the old house, after kicking down the door of course.

Looking to her left, (y/n) noticed the doe-eyed genius had stayed behind. “Aren’t you supposed to be in there too?” She inquired. Not really caring about the answer, more just trying to distract from the deafening static that comes with a side of panic and trauma.

Reid smiled slightly. “Oh I asked to stay behind with you. Just so…you know, in case you do need to go in, you don’t have to be by yourself.”

This was the first time (y/n) had seen Spencer less than 100% sure of what he was saying. But she couldn’t help but admit the relief and gratitude she felt after hearing this.

Looking him in the eyes, that familiar magnetism returned. “Thank you.”

:: :: ::

Almost 6 minutes had gone by, and (y/n) was getting nervous. 

“What do you think is taking them so long?” (y/n) asked Spencer. 

Just as he was about to respond, both radios attached to their vests began to sound. Amidst the harmony of static and beeping, the pair could make out Prentiss’  voice saying. “Bring (y/n) in. I repeat, bring (y/n) in. Slowly.”

(y/n)’s heart sunk. “Fuck.” Was all that she could muster up. 

Instinctively, Spencer reached for (y/n)’s hand once more, this time with no plan of letting go. “Hey, it’s okay (y/n). I’ll be right here with you.”

Following his lead, (y/n) could barely feel her legs. Entering the building, she quickly assessed the room. To her left, Morgan and Prentiss had their guns drawn, following their aim, she saw the back of a blonde woman’s head, she was scrabbling around screeching, fighting (y/n)’s father. Through the shock and haze, (y/n) couldn’t really process what was going on entirely. Looking even more to the right, she noticed Lacy, strapped to a chair, with a gag made of cloth surpassing whatever she was trying to say.

This was what it took to break (y/n) out of the daze. Making eye contacted with her missing, presumed dead roommate after days of worrying created a wave of emotion to crash through her. Sobbing, she screamed out “LACY!” Slipping out of Reid’s grasp and running towards her helpless friend.

The commotion between Hotch and the blonde woman halted, “(y/n)! It is just wonderful to see you again.” The familiar voiced drawled.

(y/n) looked towards the woman, instantly noting the large blade dangling between her thumb and finger. Finally, (y/n) made eye contact with the woman. The woman who killed amber. The woman who kidnapped and tortured Lacy. The woman who looked a bit too familiar.

“Sylvia.” (y/n) finally matched a name to that devious smile.

Sylvia chuckled. “Oh, so you DO remember me.” 

Of course she did. Sylvia was (y/n)’s old neighbor. A few weeks after moving in, (y/n) had met Sylvia one evening when they both arrived home at the same time. After some introductory small talk, (y/n) was invited in, though she didn’t want to be rude, she had already had such a long day at work and was ready to go to bed. Politely declining, in the following weeks she would see Sylvia every day. It seemed no matter what time (y/n) would come home, Sylvia would be there too. It was then things started to take a turn. Frequently, (y/n)’s power would go out, she’d awake to find her front door was wide open or that a faucet had been left on. She didn’t stay in that apartment for very long.

(y/n) quite literally hadn’t a tear left to shed. “Why are you doing this?” .

Lessening the grip on the blade, Sylvia became once again fixated on (y/n). (y/n) held her gaze, knowing what she was doing.

“All…all I’ve wanted from you, was a friend. I offered you tea. I tried to hang out with you. And what did you do?? YOU TURNED AROUND AND MOVED ACROSS TOWN WITH THOSE TWO BITCHES.” She was screaming now. 

Noting the vulnerability. Spencer took the opportunity to kick the blade out of Sylvia’s hand. 

“GO!” (y/n) cried as her father roughly grabbed Sylvia’s arms and forced them behind her back. “Don’t you ever even THINK about hurting my daughter ever again.” He threatened, venom spilling from his lips. 

Walking her out of the door. (y/n) rushed over to Lacy, along side Prentiss and Reid. Spencer unbound her hands while Prentiss and (y/n) worked on untying the gag. The moment she was released she threw her arms over (y/n) in a roaring sob of relief.

“Oh god, oh god. Thank you.” Lacy cried.

:: :: ::

The paramedics came in to take Lacy away to the hospital. Because of her fragility mentally and physically, no visitors were allowed to go with her for the time being. 

Before they knew it, the case was over. It had never felt real. 

Back in that SUV with her father, Spencer and Rossi, (y/n) couldn’t help but smile. Lacy was okay.

It was a longer drive back, there was no need to rush. The sun was setting. The highway lines glowed against the purple sky. An orange halo fell onto all of them. Glancing up into the rearview mirror, (y/n) caught Spencer’s eye. He smiled towards her. Her chest fluttered.  That was a quiet drive, but none of them seemed to mind.

:: :: ::

FOUR MONTHS LATER

It took about a week and a half for (y/n) to finish moving and unpacking all of the boxes in her new apartment. Though she had garnered some help from her father and Rossi.

On a warm summer Friday, (y/n) had decided to invite the BAU team over for a house-warming dinner party. Of course, her cooking would not be as excellent as Rossi’s homemade Italian cuisine she had come to know and love. Since Sylvia, Hotchner had been a lot more open about bringing (y/n) into the office. She had formed quite a bond with the team members, specifically a certain cardiganned doe eyed genius.

It was 5PM now, 1 hour until she told everyone to come. (y/n) wore sweats as she attempted to makeup her face a little. It was then that the doorbell rang. Jumping up, (y/n) only assumed that it was her father. He was always way too early. Opening the door, she was shocked to see Spencer standing there.

“Oh! Hey Spence.” She invited him in, instantly becoming overly aware of what she was wearing, how she was standing and only having one eyebrow done. Being so fixated on this, she didn’t recognize the unusual nervousness Reid was exhibiting. He rocked back on forth on his feet, not being able to find the right words.

“Hey, uh, sorry I’m so early. I just wanted to talk to you about something real quick before everyone else got here.” He managed to stumble out. 

(y/n) nodded for him to continue, feeling slightly worried. 

“Do you remember when we first met? On the floor of the bullpen at the BAU?” He posed, somewhat out of nowhere. 

(y/n) smiled fondly. “Of course I do, silly.” 

“Well,” Reid started up again. “Ever since that morning, I have never been the same.” He stopped abruptly, checking in with (y/n), making sure he wasn’t scaring her.

(y/n)’s heart skipped a beat,   “Go on…” She prompted.

“It’s just that, every time I look at you, my brain slows down. All I can think about is you. I don’t even have to be in the same room as you, but If I think of you, which I do often, you’re all I can focus on. At first I thought there was something wrong with me, but then, I realized that this wasn’t a bad thing.” 

A small smile found it’s way to (y/n)’s face. Hopefully she was correct about the direction that this was going.

“You see, (y/n), I WANT to only think about you, because when I do, I feel as though the sun is dancing all around me. When we look at each other, It feels like magic. Like the world was made for us to be in the same room. Please, tell me you feel it too.” Reid’s ramblings pause.

Sighing, (y/n) takes a step closer to him. “Well it’s about time you said something. I was worried it was just me.” Her smile widened as did his.

“Thank god.” Spencer quickly muttered, and before she knew it his large hands were on the sides of her face slipping into her hair. The moment their lips connected it were as if lightening had escaped from within them. It was electrifying.

(y/n) and Spencer made their way onto the couch as their hands gripped all over each other.

An electrical storm of love and soul consumed them. Breaking apart only to catch their breath.

Suddenly a loud chime made it’s way from the door. (y/n) shot up straight. “Shit what time is it??”.

Spencer glanced at his watch. “5:58” He reported. 

Getting up, she whispered just incase whoever was behind the door had recently acquired super hearing. “Can you get the door? I have to finish getting ready. Also, you should probably fix your hair so you don’t look like we just made out for 40 minutes.” With a wink she left the young agent with a passionate  kiss before running off to her room.

Frantically completing her other eyebrow and applying lip gloss, (y/n) slipped on a new sundress. Past the door she could hear a couple of familiar voices. Taking a breath she smoothed out her dress and opened the door.

In her living room, she found a JJ, Garcia, Morgan and her father. While the girls complimented her look, she gave her dad a quick hug as they waited for the rest of the team to arrive.

Emerging from the kitchen with two glasses of water, was an awestruck Reid. He not-so-subtly looked her up and down before shortly clearing his throat and handing her a glass. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think boy wonder had a crush.” Morgan chuckled. Almost everyone found this amusing. However, Hotch’s face didn’t show even a glimmer of amusement.

Brushing it off swiftly, (y/n) and Spencer subconsciously stood a little farther apart than normal.

The night continued on as the rest of the team showed up. At this point, everyone was at the very least a little bit drunk. Some more than others (Prentiss went hard).

While everyone was laughing huddled around the loud kitchen, Spencer took this opportunity to lean and whisper to (y/n). “I like the lipstick.”

(y/n) blushed, something she wasn’t quite used to the feeling of. “It’s a good thing you interrupted me before I had the chance to put it on, otherwise your face may be stained right about now.” 

He jokingly rolled his eyes at her as they seamlessly rejoin the conversation.

At the dinner table, the riotous chatter continued, and somewhere, at some point, Spencer and (y/n)’s hands had found their way into each others.  Out of sight from everyone else, however nothing else was on their minds.

:: :: :: FIN!!

Taglist: @ilovecriminalmindswithallmyheart @ellvswriting​ @screechingwagontacoprofessor @l0ve-0f-my-life @where-we-write @etherealgubler @sparklingkeylimepie @eleventhdoctorsangel @tpwksunflower @fandomgirl17 @chims-kookies @malfoys-demigod @thatweirdblonde @daviddobriksleftnut​ @kingworm​ @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @pizzarollsfordayz​ @heckington​ @ssaic-jareau​

[insufferablelust]

Hi, I hope you're having a great day! I was wondering if you could write something for Hotch where the reader is one of the younger members and he always wants to protect her. She messes up on a case and Strauss yells at her and she ends up crying and Hotch takes care of her. Thank you so much, and it is okay if you don't want to write it!

Hi! i’m so sorry it took me awhile to write your piece but i hope this is worth it! and i also changed it a bit so i hope you don’t mind, but if you have any specific ideas just let me know! anyways thank you so much for requesting and waiting! much love!

This is an Aaron Hotchner x SA!Reader Blurb.

Warnings : Fluffs, angst, Mean!Strauss, Hotch is like your caregiver in a professional way like he guides you through the cases and help you etc because you’re new and young, Mention of Guns, Blood, Supportive!BAU, Mental disorder, and Abductions.

this blurb also have a special meaning to me since i’m diagnosed with the same Disorder the unsub has in this so i’m sorry if the descriptions are a bit too detailed. i still hope you like it and give me feedbacks or constructive criticisms thank you for reading❤️

———————

Being the youngest in every field has its own disadvantages, when you were at school, being the youngest would get you picked at, but you shut them up quickly with your bravery. When you were in college, most people doubted you even your professors, but you also managed to make them stare in awe when you became the top student of your criminal psychology class. When you were training in the academy, many underestimate you, but again— you came out on top, trainee with the highest score amongst others. So you never thought about being the youngest much,

No, not until you actually work— by work i mean becoming a part of BAU, Special Agent Y/n Y/l/n. It was easy at first, you received such a warm welcome from your new teammates that you already thought that this is going to be easy enough. The first time you met them were at the bullpen, they were all lounging and talking about a recent case as you stepped in nervously yet you put a stern smile. The first person who approached you was the wonderful Miss Penelope Garcia, who happens to be your friend, and then you shook hands with David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, and got a flirty remark from none other than Derek Morgan— who you scoffed at and said “not going to work on me pal, Garcia has told me aaaall about it” which drew laughter.

Your assignments were quite easy at first, you were always the one to be confident, top of your class and all— so on your first day you got your first assignment with the team, a case in Virginia. You were told to follow Agent Hotchner, and you have to be honest that it couldn’t be any more easier for you. He showed you the ropes, how to analyze certain behaviors, even let you interview the family alone. He made you feel safe and comfortable to do this job, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Now that you’ve gotten to several cases, you’ve felt like you earned your place here, not just as the new girl, but a profiler, an agent, and you couldn’t be more prouder— and you can’t help but to thank Aaron for it, he always guides you through all the horrible things that you just feel content to work on cases with him. Your teammates joked about it sometimes, saying how close you two have gotten, they noticed how Hotch never raised his voice with you, not once, it’s either you’re that good or as Prentiss likes to call it “He has a soft spot for you (Y/n)”

But not all paths are smooth paths, it was sunday afternoon, you were lounging with Emily, Garcia, and Sergio when you heard the call coming from Garcia’s phone. Upon seeing “HOTCHER” as the called id, you and Prentiss sigh deeply before preparing your go bag not even bothering for Garcia to finish the phone call.

Turns out it was a child abduction case, and the first thing to note about this is that time is of the essence and every second counts. The first abduction started in Virginia a month ago, where it was handled by the local police— but then the same type of M.O and Victimology appeared in some abduction cases all over the country, the most recent one is Los Angeles. So off to LA you goes with the team, only thing different this time is that JJ and Hotch was staying behind to talk to the police in Virginia—it’s your first ever case without his guidance and you haven’t decided if you like it or hate it.

———————————

12 hours into the abduction, and Y/n has messed up bad, bad enough that it put her own life in jeopardy. Y/n had gone to follow a lead, that she received from the hotline tip, she debated at first.. on telling the others about the call she received, all her training would told her to tell someone, you can’t go alone but the caller insist that you go alone. Something about this man is not right, you can feel it in your guts. But you know that if you were about to tell the others- they wouldn’t let you pursue, not because you’re incapable but because its not right to go alone, but you took the risk to save these children— the caller did mentioned you only have 10 minutes to drive to his address and if you don’t show up alone, the children will be killed— and you can’t let that happen. So you told the tip responder that you have told your team and that you’re under pursue before sprinting out of the LAPD.

When the team realized that Y/n was gone, it was an hour after she actually left. The second they found out about her whereabouts, they rushed to the location— already hoping that you and the kids are still alive. To their relief, you were found alive, but you were tied to a chair, face bloodied and its clear that you took some harsh beating. The unsub was holding one of the child, threatening to kill him.

He was a man who has Abandonment issues with severe borderline personality disorder, the reason why he abducts children is because he hated his childhood— he hated himself for being a fuck up, so he took the perfect children according to his judgment and kept them— it’s masochistic, he kept them as a reminder for himself of how worthless he is.

“Put the gun down, and let the boy go” Morgan’s voice rang through the abandoned building, causing the unsub to panic and move backwards “No! stay there! c-come any closer and i’ll blow his perfect fucking face off” He snarled, before you gained all the energy you have left and speak up,

“Adam, let him go please. I know how you feel, and let me show you that you are none of those things your mind is telling you. You’re not worthless and you deserve to be loved, a- a mother’s love.. don’t you missed it? Come here, i- i can give it to you” You coughed up blood as your vision gets blurry, The team gasped as the unsub let the boy go.. all of them and kneeled next to you, gun still in hand as he untied you, then lay his head on your thighs. Your fingers shakily move, to ran through his hair, and inching to get the gun from here.

“Shh, shh Mama’s here, give me the toy.. I’ll let you play w-with it later” You said holding back the tears as he slowly handed you the loaded gun before you tossed it and the team cuffed him.

You cried hard as you fell to your knees on the floor, the last thing you heard was Prentiss’s voice calling for medic and then you black out.

——————-

Its been a few days after the incident, you’re on your way back to Quantico. Some of the bruisings are gone but there are some scars that will be there forever, and honestly you don’t worry about it all— the only thing you worry about is what your superior is going to do with you. You knew you messed up bad and it doesn’t matter that you are the reason that those kids are free, you should’ve told your team. When Emily asked you why, you said it’s just gut feeling em. And when Spencer asked you how’d you know?

you told him, that The unsub told you about his young mother, the same exact age as your age, your hair color, and around your height. Thats why he wanted you to come, and the pieces clicked, All of the hesitancy to kill, He liked the pain, not inflicting it to others if not necessary but to himself. That’s how you know. Your answer seemed to please the young doctor as he smiled and whispered a small “Great job, Agent.”

All of them were understanding on why you did it, except Morgan because he’s like your big brother but he did said something along the lines of “You’re a damn good profiler but you’re still stupid” but the worst had to come from your superior; Erin Strauss.

As soon as you landed in Quantico, Hotch was there waiting for you, then escort you to his room, where Strauss was there also. You were nervous not because you’re wrong but because you knew you could’ve done better and it’s against the regulations.

Hotch had said to you during a phone call that he “understands why you did what you did but it certainly doesnt justify it.” The way he spoke those words calmed you down up until now.. standing in front of Strauss herself.

“Agent Y/n, sit down.” You sat down in front of her with Hotch leaning against his desk, you put on a smile as you keep eye contact with her, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine, Ma’am. Thank you for asking—i’ve completed the psych evals too and-“

“What you did was reckless and stupid, Agent. You put your own life in danger as well as your teammates. You let your own ambition to lead you into this mess—“

Taken aback at her words, you quickly replied, “Excuse me Ma’am, with all due respect i never have any intention other than saving the boys from the unsub. So i don’t understand how my ‘ambition’ led me.”

“Agent, you will not interrupt me. Must i remind you that you’re an intelligent, bright, and exceptionally young with a lot of great potentials but let me ask you this, Are you too immature that your ambition on becoming the one who caught the unsub is your top priority? The Director agreed that maybe you should take another year of training to successfully complete mature so you dont make mistakes like this.” and at that your eyes brimmed with tears, How could she? how could she compared your age to how you do your job? You were trying to save the kids and you did. Your age has no connection to any of this and certainly not to your abilities. You were about to say something when Hotch stand and put a finger up signaling you to hold it.

“Ma’am I know what Y/n did is incredibly reckless but she only did that because the unsub specifically asked for her— she reminded him of his young mother, their features are the same. Agent Y/n, does know the regulations and protocols, and she knows that if she tells anyone the risk of those boys dying is greater than any other. So with all due respect Ma’am, As her direct superior in this case, i’m asking you to back up and let me handle her penalty according to my professional judgment as someone who has seen her incredible work and sacrifices.” His voice is loud, ringing on your ears like you’re the only thing that mattered. It left you speechless as he give you the tissue box and then waiting for Erin’s reply.

To your surprise she didn’t say anything before leaving his office. You broke down once again, gasping for air as you feel the pain now, the ache on your shoulder and wrists, the dull pain on your face, the cuts and bruises on your stomach. You are exhausted, and It seemed that Hotch knows it too.

He sit besides you as he gently placed your head on his shoulder, so you can cry with a shoulder to support you. You were so exhausted, that you dont even care if this is breaking any rules or protocols. You just want to save people, you just want to be with your team.

“She won’t do anything, I promise you that ill protect and guides you, so hang onto my words.” He said, rubbing the back of your neck and shoulders as you let out tiny gasps, trying to form a sentence.

“T-thank- y-you, Aaron.” is the only thing you managed to speak before the exhaustion wipes you out, the last thing you heard was his voice, “Anytime Y/n, Sleep well.”

——————

Feel free to send me blurb ideas! give this a like and reblog, thank you!

[aeipcthys]

— the girl you can't stop thinking about

╰ ❛   💉 — › meghann fahy. cis-female. she/her.  ╯ have  you  met  laurel davis  yet  ?  this  twenty  seven  year  old  sagittarius has  been  living  in the seattle  area  for  four  years.  she  makes  a  living  as  a  fourth  year  surgical  resident,  which  is best suited for their affable,  vibrant,  rebellious,  and  irrational personality. my type by saint motel  is  one of. their  favorite  songs.

full character page + bio here

G E N E R A L

FULL NAME: laurel lynn davis

NICKNAME(S): laur, davis

TROPE: the siren

B A S I C S

AGE: twenty-seven (27)

BIRTHDAY: december 21, 1994

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: white - irish, italian

GENDER: cisgender woman

PRONOUNS: she/her/hers

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: liberal

RELIGION: former protestant

OCCUPATION: ent surgical resident 

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: roommates w/ alyiah thompson

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

PARENTS: ellen davis (mother), james davis (father)

SIBLINGS: none.

SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): none.

CHILDREN: none.

CLOSEST FRIENDS: alyiah thompson, benjamin morgan (mentor)

RIVALS: tbd.

ENEMIES: matilda chambers (ish)

P H Y S I C A L   T R A I T S

FACECLAIM: meghann fahy

EYE COLOR: blue

HAIR COLOR: blonde-brunette

HEIGHT: 5′4

BODY BUILD: slim

NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: big smile

AESTHETIC/STYLE: fashionable, put together, sexy 

P E R S O N A L I T Y

POSITIVE TRAITS: affable, vibrant, friendly, supportive, hard-working

NEGATIVE TRAITS: rebellious, irrational, perfectionist, resentful

SLEEPING HABITS: sleeps soundly buried under tons of covers and surrounded by pillows

EXERCISE HABITS: tries yoga & pilates, always sucks at each; likes the idea of racquetball, but has never played (or seen someone play) racquetball

TYPICAL MOOD/EXPRESSION: smile

SOCIABILITY: friendly, social, personable

ZODIAC SIGN: sagittarius

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic good

ENNEAGRAM: type seven - the enthusiast

MBTI: esfp

HOGWARTS HOUSE: hufflepuff

DRUG USE: marijuana occasionally 

ALCOHOL USE: yes

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

SKILLS: surgery, making people smile, planning elaborate pranks

HOBBIES: sewing, knitting, crocheting, attending parties, throwing parties, sexy times 

FEARS/PHOBIAS: enclosed spaces, inadequacies

FAVORITES: summer, vibrant colors, bad bitch music, nachos, those blue cheese olives that come in martinis, whiskey sours 

B I O G R A P H Y

Read her revised biography here.

P L O T S / C O N N E C T I O N S 

A DISTRACTION: no significant others, just distractions please

MEET HER MATCH: someone with laurel’s same energy -- that non-committal, reveler, free spirit type -- but they hate each other. a hateship, if you will.

PARTY HARDY: let laurel throw a rager; that’s it. just a rager. 

[aion-rsa]

Best Serial Killer Movies of the ’90s Ranked

https://ift.tt/3tcsgCf

Someone must have left the freezer door in the morgue open, because grisly reminders of the past are thawing before our eyes. You can see it this weekend with the release of John Lee Hancock’s The Little Things, a throwback to the days when movie stars hung out at crime scenes instead of in spandex, and it’ll be more apparent next month with the launch of Clarice, a television spinoff of 1991’s The Silence of the Lambs. All the evidence points to only one conclusion: the serial killer thrillers of the ‘90s are back!

Not that we’re complaining. For a macabre minute or two, every Hollywood name appeared eager to play either the detective or the killer—the hunter or the obsessed, which often proved interchangeable for both characters. Granted that means there can be something formulaic about many of these movies. Yet they can also be bleak, hard-edged, and ambiguous. From our modern gaze, where the dominant studio conventions prefer reassuring morality tales and sunny lighting, these movies’ preference for shadows and discomfort in the mainstream is kind of startling.

So grab your magnifying glass and fortify your stomach, because we’re about to revisit some of the best (and worst) of ‘90s serial killer thrillers. (Also this list is strictly for the decade when the genre was at its height and it excludes slasher movies like Scream, which may feature serial killers but were not exactly adult-oriented thrillers.)

12. Eye of the Beholder (1999)

Eye of the Beholder is a tonal oddity that only passingly flirts with the conventions of ‘90s serial killer thrillers, all while it tries to pay homage to (read: rip-off) Alfred Hitchcock. But any credit it deserves for deviation—including making Ashley Judd’s central femme fatale the killer—it loses in execution. As a muddied, impenetrable tale about an intelligence officer (Ewan McGregor) who spies on and falls in love with a serial killer, Eye of the Beholder is a scattershot of bad ideas that run the gamut from ludicrous to misogynistic.

Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but this movie will close the lids over your pupils inside of 30 minutes.

11. Nightwatch (1997)

It feels a little mean to rag on Ewan McGregor back-to-back, but maybe serial killer movies just aren’t his genre? That could be at least one takeaway from an ill-advised double feature of Eye of the Beholder and Nightwatch, the latter of which is a remake of a 1994 Danish film that I’ve not seen… and probably won’t since both the original film and American remake are directed by the same man.

McGregor plays medical student Martin here, a kid who gets an after school job by becoming the night watch security at the local morgue. But as a series of grisly prostitute murders pile up, Martin realizes he needs to figure out who the killer is—that or continue to be framed by the necrophiliac fiend who keeps coming by the morgue for one last liaison. It’s exactly as skeevy as it sounds. Do yourself a favor and go your whole life without hearing Nick Nolte sing “This Old Man” while climbing onto a corpse.

10. Natural Born Killers (1994)

The movie that Quentin Tarantino disowned, Natural Born Killers is a seedy mess based on a Tarantino script that was heavily rewritten by Oliver Stone, David Veloz, and Richard Rutowski. The concept itself is a seemingly inevitable escalation of the “bad romance outlaws” archetype that’s been floating around Hollywood since at least 1950’s Gun Crazy, and which was then made iconic by Bonnie & Clyde (1967).

But whereas those films relied on bank robbers living fast, Natural Born Killers descends into a seeming final form with Mickey and Mallory (Woody Harrelson and Juliette Lewis) as giddy serial killers who are eventually out for maximum carnage. Technically the pair are supposed to be presented as victims of traumatic child abuse—and who are then wrongfully glorified by the media. But Stone’s sloppy and tanked vision lacks the discipline to achieve anything beyond its maliciousness. Early sequences imagining Mallory’s abusive childhood like it’s a television sitcom, and later psychedelic visions of Robert Downey Jr.’s opportunistic news reporter as the Devil, do little to divorce the film from its shallow self-satisfaction in close-ups of heads being shot.

The movie came under controversy in the years after its release for inspiring alleged copycat killers as well as school shooters. It feels irresponsible to blame media for actual violence, but it’s still quite an indictment that Stone’s attempt to criticize media glorification became a favorite for many a disturbed individual with a gun.

9. Kiss the Girls (1997)

When studying competent, middle of the road Hollywood thrillers, Kiss the Girls is a solid place to start. As a decently made bit of studio convention, the movie is anchored by strong elements like Morgan Freeman as James Paterson’s literary hero, Alex Cross, and Ashley Judd as Kate, the victim who survives a masked killer’s attempt to abduct her into his harem.

Moments like Kate’s escape sequence through the North Carolina wilderness are effectively filled with adrenaline, and Judd particularly gives the salacious piece conviction. However, it is salacious to a fault. Even if the movie toned down the source novel’s even more lurid misogyny, the film studies Kate and the other victims with a lascivious male gaze, blurring sex with violence, real world horror with leering entertainment. Right down to its title, the film can be rightly criticized as Hollywood glamourizing another story about violence against women. Whether that damns the whole movie depends on the viewer, but it certainly keeps it low on our list.

8. The Bone Collector (1999)

Marketed with a hell of a tagline about there being thousands of taxi cabs in New York City that’ll get you home—and one that won’t—The Bone Collector is almost comically slavish to the clichés of ‘90s moviemaking. The wrinkle here is that after a faux cab driver begins abducting his victims off the street, the crime psychologist who must stop him is entirely stuck by his bedside. Due to a tragic accident, Denzel Washington’s Lincoln Rhyme is paralyzed from the neck down. Yet he is still able to catch serial killers by communicating in the earpiece of police officer Amelia Donaghy (an entirely unconvincing Angelina Jolie).

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Lost Girls Review: Netflix Takes on the Long Island Serial Killer

By Rosie Fletcher

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The Last Book on the Left Takes on the Grim History of Serial Killers

By Alec Bojalad

Together the pair stay one step behind the mystery killer’s tracks as he executes a series of increasingly gruesome and ridiculous murders. It’s preposterous, and in some ways a forerunner for Saw with the satisfaction it takes in absurd death traps, but Washington is effortlessly compelling, even when he never leaves his apartment. As a bit of absurd Hollywood fluff, right down to the ultimately lackluster unmasking of the killer, it can be entertaining, even if you’ll deny it afterward.

7. Copycat (1995)

More potent than I remembered, Copycat is a genuinely well-crafted Hollywood thriller that may not reinvent the wheel but takes it out for a damn good spin. In the driver’s seat is Sigourney Weaver as Dr. Helen Hudson, a criminal psychologist who is an expert on serial killers until one follows her into the bathroom after a guest lecture. He nearly hangs her from the ceiling. Following that white-knuckled opening, the film jumps years ahead and Helen has become agoraphobic and afraid to leave her home.

Yet when a local series of murders reveal the pattern of a predator imitating the methods of his favorite “celebrities”—one crime scene is like the Boston Strangler and another emulates the horrors of Jeffrey Dahmer—Helen is pulled out of retirement by a no-nonsense detective (Holly Hunter). The winning chemistry between Weaver and Hunter—who are refreshingly free from the studio-mandated romantic subplots in some of the other movies on this list—and the blunt force power of their performances aid this sincerely disquieting flick. A needlessly convoluted third act aside, the movie still works as a warning about the danger of fanboys a generation early.

6. Fallen (1998)

Denzel Washington appears again thanks to this clever supernatural spin on the serial killer genre. At the beginning of Fallen, Washington’s John Hobbes appears on top of the world. The serial killer he chased for years (Elias Koteas) is about to breathe deeply in the gas chamber. Yet after the lever is pulled, and with Koteas singing the Rolling Stones’ “Time is On My Side” until his last breath, a funny thing happens: the murders continue.

In fact, more than just the killings, strangers in the street sing “Time is On My Side” in Hobbes’ ear, and he soon realizes that he faces a devil of a killer whose been operating since the beginning—quite literally since the villain is a demon who was once an angel that fell with Lucifer. It’s a bizarre premise given strutting confidence thanks to Washington’s performance, as well as good supporting work by John Goodman and Donald Sutherland. Twenty years later and its ending still sticks with me.

5. The Exorcist III (1990)

If you haven’t seen The Exorcist III, we know what you’re thinking: “Really?!” Yes. In fact, this isn’t even an exorcist movie; it should’ve been titled Legion like the 1983 novel it’s based on. Alas writer-director William Peter Blatty was forced to use the title and do reshoots that added an exorcism in the climax. Still, this supernatural thriller which involves a serial killer back from the dead is far better than it has any right to be.

Following the character of Lt. Kinderman from the 1973 masterpiece, the middle-aged gumshoe is now played by George C. Scott instead of the late Lee J. Cobb, and he possesses Scott’s usual love for contrasts between the restrained whisper and a bombastic howl. He also makes a sympathetic, secular detective forced to face the horrors of Hell when a series of murders committed against Catholic priests appear to be the work of the Gemini Killer (Brad Dourif), a serial killer whom Kinderman sent to the chair more than 10 years ago.

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The Exorcist III is a Classic and Better Than You Remember

By Jim Knipfel

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The Exorcist Is Still the Scariest Movie Ever Made

By David Crow

Somehow the fiend—plus Kinderman’s long dead pal Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller)—appear to now be living in the same body of a John Doe kept in a mental asylum. With an unrelenting atmosphere of dread, palpable tension, and more of Blatty’s intellectual struggle with concepts of faith and evil, the film is more high-minded than its hacky title suggests. It also features one of the best jump scares in movie history.

4. Summer of Sam (1999)

The only movie on this list directly based on an actual serial killer’s crimes, Spike Lee’s Summer of Sam is a serious-minded joint. However, it’s only partially about the murders perpetrated by David Berkowitz, aka the “.44 Caliber Killer,” aka the Son of Sam. Rather the film focuses on the effects a serial killer has on the culture of New York City during the sweltering summer of 1977, and how it affects young lives trying to make it in the big city.

Influenced by Lee and his co-writers Michael Imperioli and Victor Colicchio’s memories of growing up in 1970s New York, the pic is a love letter to a grim moment in history when the city was about to explode with murders, blackouts, crime, and disco. All of this is digested from the vantages of Vinny (John Leguizamo), a philandering hairdresser guilt-ridden for cheating on his wife (Mira Sorvino), and his childhood pal Ritchie (Adrien Brody), who’s left the old neighborhood behind to join the fledgling punk rock scene.

With a greater interest in how a serial killer affects the culture and institutions of a city on edge than being a traditional crime drama, Summer of Sam is a bit of a forerunner to David Fincher’s far more polished Zodiac from a few years later. With heavy-handed dialogue and a plot too big for Lee to fully get his arms around, even at 142 minutes, Summer of Sam can be uneven and messy. But it has the sweaty incorrigibility of a long night out, and of revelries half remembered like from a fever dream.

3. The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999)

The rare serial killer movie told entirely from the perspective of the killer, Anthony Minghella’s The Talented Mr. Ripley is disarmingly creepy. Despite its glossy awards bait sheen, there is a cold-blooded streak that runs deep to the heart of the piece, likely due to Patricia Highsmith’s source 1955 novel. Starring Matt Damon fresh off his Good Will Hunting golden boy sheen, the film uses its casting to disorient and ultimately disturb.

Like Highsmith’s book, the film is not structured like a traditional thriller. It instead favors a detached ambivalence about its seemingly nebbish hero as he agrees to become an errand boy for the rich by traveling to 1950s Italy in order to retrieve a silver spoon cad (Jude Law) for his father. But the more time Tom Ripley (Damon) spends with Law’s Dickie Greenleaf, the more he grows envious of Dickie’s lifestyle, his wealth and confidence, and maybe even his affection for socialite Marge (Gwyneth Paltrow). There is a subtle—too subtle due to ‘90s Hollywood conventions—homoerotic undercurrent throughout the film as Ripley slowly works up the courage to take his first life. It won’t be his last.

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Knives Out: When Murder Makes You a Better Person

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Seven: The Brilliance of David Fincher’s Chase Scene

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Highsmith wound up publishing four subsequent sequels to The Talented Mr. Ripley, but unfortunately no more were made with Damon. Perhaps because this was too unsettling for an ongoing franchise.

2. Seven (1995)

While watching David Fincher’s masterful Seven, the thing that immediately stands out is the oppressive nihilism that permeates throughout. There were decades of neo noir before this detective yarn about the hunt for a serial killer, but none demonstrated such an overbearing sense of despair before the opening credits were even concluded. And perhaps what makes it unshakable is how welcoming the film is toward bleakness; it succumbs long before the gut-punch finale.

Telling the story of an old cop days from retirement (Morgan Freeman) and a hotheaded rookie detective (Brad Pitt), Andrew Kevin Walker’s script has an economy of pace that still impresses despite its cynicism. Very quickly one murder becomes two, then three, and soon four. Yet none of the atrocities are reveled in by Fincher’s blocking; they’re off-screen mutilations which leave psychic damage on his two leads and, eventually, us. The deaths also quickly establish a pattern that their serial killer is targeting seven souls, each intended to embody one of the seven deadly sins.

The movie is a classic now for its climax where the killer “John Doe” (a reptilian Kevin Spacey) turns himself in and leads the cops into the darkest pit, but it’s the entire package that makes this one linger more than 25 years later. At the end of the film, Somerset quotes Hemingway by saying, “‘The world is a fine place and worth fighting for.’ I agree with the second part.” I’m not convinced his film does.

1. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

As the film that kick-started the idea that serial killers could create their own film genre, The Silence of the Lambs still remains the best of its kind. Blessedly unaware that it was creating conventions for countless copycats, the film tells its psychological drama with simplicity and clarity. Whereas other films on this list bask in their bleakness, there is a dogged optimism and even perverse warmth to this Jonathan Demme adaptation of Thomas Harris’ Silence of the Lambs novel. And that’s of course largely attributable to the casting of Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster.

As Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Hopkins is of course monumental. It’s a performance that turned a quinquagenarian into an overnight movie star, and became Hopkins’ calling card as he returned to the not-so-good doctor’s well one too many times. Still, he’s undeniably enthralling as Hannibal, a cannibal psychologist with superhuman powers of observation and mental menace. Even so, Foster is often overlooked by critics for her own contributions as the FBI trainee who’s proverbially fed to the incarcerated Lecter—a pretty face to get the serial killer to consult pro bono on the crimes of another mass murderer. It’s just one more example of casual sexism faced by Clarice that gives Foster as much to play as Hopkins.

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Culture

David Fincher’s Zodiac: The Movie That Never Ended

By Don Kaye

Movies

The Little Things Ending Explained

By David Crow

Surrounded by the slights and prejudices of men—be they in law enforcement or straight jackets—Clarice is constantly underestimated. She finds an intellectual rapport with Hannibal, but she pulls herself out of the darkest night, and the screaming of the lambs, without assistance. Her perseverance matched by Hannibal’s darkly seductive qualities is the juxtaposition that makes Silence of the Lambs one of the finest films of its decade.

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