#y’all know i’m completely biased right

[aerinfrankellove]

2024-25 Season Prediction Survey Results

Read below or read a better formatted version here

The second PWHL season looms heavy on the horizon, and with preseason camps underway, the prospect of change, a new season with new storylines and new team names and logos and new players, haunts us all. We may not all be sports experts, but after watching the first season for months and eagerly awaiting the second, we all have our own ideas of how season two might go. Whether they’re logical ideas or not will be seen upon the future, but I, lover of data and spreadsheets, decided to gather up all your opinions and predictions of how season two will go, from the biggest honor (The Walter Cup) to random questions regarding trades and penalty minutes

Team Predictions -

This was the easy part of the form. Minimal prior knowledge, you didn’t even need to know the team names because I put them all in as multiple choice questions. Hypothetically everyone could have just picked randomly and I wouldn’t be any the wiser. That being said, some interesting trends emerged from you folks, some predictable and some less so.

Walter Cup Winners: Boston Fleet or Montreal Victoire (35.3%)

This was probably one of the closest races beneath the team with only about a single vote difference between Boston winning it all and Montreal winning it all at any one time. As an entirely unbiased Boston fan and casual Montreal enjoyer, I think this prediction is definitely founded in something. Montreal and Boston project to be two of the stronger teams, but I also think I’m biased if only because of how many Montreal and Boston fans I see in comparison to other teams. With all that being said, I’d be disappointed but not surprised if some other less represented team (Seriously does no one believe New York can win? Even Ottawa got a single vote and y’all really hated Ottawa) wins it going away after a hot season. But as my father always says, that’s why we play the game and this game/series in particular is quite a far ways away.

Walter Cup Runner Ups: Montreal Victoire (35.3%)

Honestly, I was expecting pretty similar results for this question as the question above, after all if the general consensus is that one of those two teams will win the cup, then one of them would have to lose it, right? Well Montreal was right up there, but unexpectedly Toronto came in second with 24% of people having enough faith in Toronto getting to the finals and then very little faith in them actually winning it, girlfailures that they are. Montreal tied with them to get second in the cup, followed by Boston (please god don’t let it come to that I don’t think my heart could take two years in a row) and then the mish mash of the Sirens, Frost, and Charge. 

First in the standings: Toronto Sceptres (32.4%)

So Montreal was leading this right up until I was actually writing and then I had to completely change my paragraph mid writing which was so much fun and definitely not irritating at all, but Toronto overtook Montreal for first, aiming for that repeat first in the standings and dare I be speaking sacrilege against the Victoire (who I do like more than the Sceptres) I honestly think they have a better chance. Like a 45% chance vs. a 40% chance. Boston carried up third place in voting and as much as I love the Fleet I think lots of things would have to go right for that to happen (another stunning season by Frankel, more consistent offense, an actual power play, so on and so forth). 

Additionally, as much as I hate to say it, I think we’re seriously underselling Minnesota, just because they made some inadvisable choices during the off season doesn’t mean they still aren’t largely the team who won the Walter cup and has theoretically gotten better during the offseason. Then again, I’d be as happy as anyone to see them crash and burn a little bit so it’s all speculatory. New York got a grand total of two votes but I’m secretly rooting for them to surprise some people. Ottawa got none, but we can cover that in the next section.

Last in the standings: Ottawa Charge (52.9%)

Guys. Guys, really? Ottawa fans, I am begging you, come represent your team because this is embarrassing. Like I don’t know much about what Ottawa’s been up to other than rebuilding the Czech National Team (shout out to Carla Macleod I am manifesting you knowing what you are doing). Like they weren’t bad last year, they were second in goals for, and they did lose a bit but they had tons of overtime losses which means they were in the games. Hell, they were very nearly in the playoffs, they were in the same category as Minnesota and Boston, the two finalist teams! Apparently my unpopular opinion is that Ottawa isn’t going to suck (They hopefully have two solid goalies now so Masch won’t be overworked, they signed some good players, I feel like I’m going crazy.) Otherwise, there’s not much notable in this section other than some doubt about the Sirens and the Frost (lord let it be the Frost /j) but shoutout to the one person truly going against the grain and saying that Montreal is gonna get dead last, I applaud your bravery.

The Four Playoff Teams:

This question was a little less straightforward so we’re gonna split it into three sections. The (Predicted) Shoe-ins, The Contenders, and Ottawa.

The (Predicted) Shoe-ins - 

The Sceptres, the Victoire, and the Fleet all had about 30 votes with nearly 90% of respondents selecting them each as one of the potential playoff teams. This fits pretty well with the previous votes of the Walter Cup winners and runner ups, so I wasn’t too surprised at any of these. All of these teams should have a decent shot at the playoffs and my own mostly unfounded misgivings about the Sceptres aside, this is all pretty reasonable and I largely think there’s a good chance that this is how it goes..

The Contenders - 

The Frost and the Sirens were pretty evenly matched, about half of y’all voted that they’d be one of four playoff teams and I generally agree that they both have a pretty good shot at the playoffs so there isn’t much to talk about here. I’d personally be more excited for the Sirens to make a run at the playoffs, I think they have a chance to be good after last season and hopefully put some things together over the summer, but we shall see.

Ottawa - 

You know I already wrote a whole ramble about this and since then Ottawa beat Boston 6-1 in the preseason and I think they heard how little faith you guys had in them and decided to take it out on my team. That’s all I’m gonna say on that.

The Trade Predictions:

These answers were definitely a bit less clear cut due to the nature of the question, after all it’s a lot easier to say who you think will be good than try and get into the head of GMs and coaches, but a few trends emerged nonetheless. The Frost, the Sirens, and the Charge all got 19 or 20 apiece and I think it makes a bit of sense. After all the Sirens and the Charge seemingly stand the most to gain through trade having missed the playoffs, and from later responses those who voted Minnesota were manifesting a Britta Curl trade which I’ll refrain from judging at the moment. I will say I’m a bit surprised that less people voted for Boston, after all unless my memory is entirely wrong they had the most trades over the course of last season and seem to hold very few qualms about it.

0.500+ Winning Percentage: Montreal Victoire (84.8%)

Guys, I respect this take, I’m 90% sure this was one of my votes for an above .500 team as well, but may I speak a little bit of heresy against the Victoire? Like they’re gonna be good, I don’t have doubt in that, but I don’t know if they’re gonna be that decisively good. They’re a bit injured which could lead to a rocky start and do we all still remember how much they relied on those top few players especially in the playoffs? I’m pretty sure in the Boston series their fourth line may have gotten less than ten minutes overall which I’m not an expert on hockey but isn’t a whole thing about balancing ice time and having solid lines all the way through so your stars aren’t having absurdly long nights (shout out to Erin Ambrose you deserve a gun)?

Otherwise this follows the general trends of the playoffs with a bit more faith in the Frost than in the Sirens, a reasonable amount for the Fleet and Sceptres, and absolutely none in Ottawa which I think we’ll all come to regret but I’ve said my piece about that already so I won’t beat a dead horse into the ground.

Higher Goals For than Goals Against: Toronto Sceptres (68.8%)

This risks getting into actual smart people hockey stuff that I am by no means an expert in, so I won’t spend too long other than to just share the results. Toronto and Montreal are the only two teams with a confidence rate of over 50%, followed by Boston, Minnesota, New York, and Ottawa. I think it’s interesting to think about potential offensive numbers but really can’t speak much to how accurate these have the chance of being because my main reaction is “huh yeah that’s a statistic people can make predictions on”

Player Predictions -

This definitely was a lot less definitive on almost all fronts, and I joked while advertising this that you could just type in MPP for all the answers and get half of them right, which seems to be the approach that some of you took. It’s fair, but expect a lot of repetition looking at these charts due to that because she is just that pervasive. I’ll try to mention as many players you guys picked as possible but you might have to look at the charts because I am neither an expert in all players nor a good enough writer to say anything other than “Yeah that’s certainly a player”

Above 1.00 points per game played: Marie Philip-Poulin (13 votes)

And here is the start to our MPP sweep, starting strong off the bat, about half of the 26 answers to this question included her which makes sense. She was second only to Natalie Spooner last season, with 1.1 pt/g and unless something weird happens I see no reason to suspect otherwise from her. I honestly didn’t expect as many other players to be suggested, after all it was only Natalie Spooner and Marie Philip-Poulin which makes sense, it’s an impressive statistic, but everyone seemed to have their favorites. Sarah Nurse was one player who hasn’t really been on my radar but you guys seem to like her, for this question and a bunch of other ones. I personally am partial to a Hilary Knight comeback season from this list but would be interested to see anyone make that jump.

In the Top Ten Points Getters: Marie Philip-Poulin (15 votes)

Everyone raise their hands if they’re surprised MPP won this in a landslide, oh wait literally no one is surprised I could have told you this when it was literally only my vote on the board. You’ll learn very quickly that oftentime the runaway winner of these simple questions aren’t really the interesting ones, it’s everyone else that got nominated that you can really dig into. Everyone who got top 10 last year, 18-27 points was up here in this list except Brianne Jenner and Katerina Mrazova which I’m chalking up to you guy’s Ottawa hate. Shoutout to Tobi and the one other person who voted for Gabbie Hughes and also Ronja Savolainen, you are the real ones rooting for the Charge.

Also I don’t know if it’s because with Natalie Spooner just kind of ruled the world coming out of Toronto I was completely blindsided by Sarah Nurse on most of these questions sorry Nursey I forgot you existed a little bit hopefully the Toronto girlies don’t tear me apart for that one.

PIMPG Over 1.00 Minutes: Abby Roque (16 votes)

The certainty of the questions ticks up by one for the next few and as much as everyone believed in MPP being awesome overall, one more person believed in Abby Roque being a criminal on skates and/or overly penalized, I didn’t leave room for that distinction. Tereza Vanišová earned the dubious distinction of second place but only with 6 votes and Emma Maltais earned third with a measly 3. Not a ton of Rookie representation here but I’ll be interested to see if any of this draft class take up this mantle. Also shoutout to the two people who voted Kaleigh Fratkin despite her not playing that’s so real and valid of you.

Save Percentage Over 0.920: Aerin Frankel (17 votes)

With the most votes of any player for a single category, Aerin Frankel, The Green Monster, love of my life and the blockade of the Boston Fleet, absolutely swept this category. I might have been thinking this in my head, but it’s good to see my Frankel love reaffirmed for the upcoming season because she deserves it all. And maybe a gun if Boston decides to have a few repeat performances from last year (cough two fifty+ save games in a row cough). The goalie questions have an inherently smaller pool so there were fewer surprises because as a certified goalie lover I try to keep tabs on the situation in net across the league. I’m shocked ARD didn’t get as much of a nod here from Montreal fans but suppose the appeal of Montreal is dissimilar to Boston in that regard as you theoretically have a consistent offense.

20+ Games Started as a Goalie: Aerin Frankel (16 votes)

Honestly I’m surprised Maschmeyer didn’t run away with this question because if it’s who I’d like to see start 20 games and do wonderfully it’d definitely be Frankel but I think with the possible addition of Klara Peslarova Boston shouldn’t be overly reliant on her with Soderburg and potentially Peslarova to back her up. I suppose it might be overwhelming faith in Gwyneth Phillips to be a solid number 2 in Ottawa but she wasn’t that represented in other goalie questions so maybe it was just an oversight considering Masch had the most starts of any goalie in the league last year. More interestingly, I respect the one person who refrained from answering and basically said that there’s so much depth in the league that no goalie will get 20 out of 30 starts. I’m not sure if it’s accurate, but the depth is real so it’s possible.

Billie Jean King (MVP) Nominee: Marie-Philip Poulin (10 votes)

And now we’re officially back in MPP territory and I’m not gonna spend too much time breaking this down because yeah. If Poulin has a repeat performance from last season and Spooner’s out for a significant portion of the season on LTIR, it’s her award to lose. But let’s look at some of the people you think she has the chance to lose it to. Once again you guys are on the Sarah Nurse train and you know what I support. Seeing the team ratios, lots of Toronto, a smattering of everyone else, no Ottawa, is definitely interesting but I’m not nearly smart enough to make conclusions as to what that means so I’ll leave it up to you to decide. (Something something teams with depth might have less obvious candidates if they’re all kicking in?)

Forward of the Year Nominee: Marie-Philip Poulin (10 votes)

Wow. MPP for forward of the year, who possibly could have predicted this. Definitely not me. And yes, you all are probably right but that’s not interesting! That’s not fun and cool and interesting so let’s move on. More Sarah Nurse love in this house and I think I can confidently say there aren’t very many of you confident in a repeat performance from Spooner/think her injured status will prevent her from potentially making this list. It’s a bit more prominent but there’s definitely a big Daryl Watts faction of supporters and honestly I endorse this. I might not be a huge Toronto girlie but I always have a soft spot for players who move teams and she just seems like a very easy person to root for. I just hope she doesn’t do too well against Boston this Saturday <3

Defender of the Year Nominee: Ella Shelton and Erin Ambrose (7 votes)

See isn’t this fun, isn’t this interesting, a tie for first place and none of them are named Marie-Philip Poulin! (ignore the fact she isn’t eligible) Honestly, I think Ella Shelton and Erin Ambrose are the obvious but objectively correct candidates. They were both nominated and both deserving but I think Shelton was a little robbed, after all she was second in points for her team as a defender and fifth yes that’s right, fifth place for points overall. But alas Erin Ambrose is a titaness and also deserved the award so that’s not the point. The point is I think I’m slightly biased towards Shelton between our two winners. As our runners up, we’re really feeling that Sophie Jaques love and I might be anti-Minnesota but I can’t bring myself to be ant-Sophie Jaques. Of course I endorse Keller (Go Fleet!) and can’t say I know enough about the rest of these players defensively to speak definitively on their chances.

Goalie of the Year Nominee: Aerin Frankel (13 votes)

Peace and love on planet earth there’s not much to say that I didn’t already say in the save percentage or games started section so I won’t dawdle too much here other than to say that there was a little less variation of who you thought would be nominated versus who you thought would have a good season (starting 20+ times, high save percentage). You guys tend to stick with proven goalies, which makes sense and I can’t see any place I’d disagree other than to say I think that if Corinne Schroeder keeps up her save percentage (higher than Soupy last year) and New York lets her see less of a volume of shots (she saw about 31 per game as compared to Campbell’s 24) by actually playing defense, she could separate a bit from the other goalies in the league. I’m always rooting for Aerin Frankel and think she got robbed last year, so if she stays the Green Monster she was last season I think she has a really good chance.

Rookie of the Year Nominee: Sarah Fillier (12 votes)

This really reaffirmed for me that most of us have absolutely no clue anything about the depth of this rookie class. Of the nine players named, ⅔ of them were the first round of the draft, one of them isn’t even a rookie (Sorry Daryl Watts you won’t be getting this piece of hardware), and Curl and Daniel were second and third round picks respectively. Meanwhile over 20 rookie skaters got points in the preseason games alone and only Serdachny and Fillier from this list got more than 1 point. The rest of those seven players were all but forgotten. And I get it, preseason is preseason, but my prediction is we’ll have a few unexpected standouts who really break out in the league when no one really saw them coming. I don’t think Sarah Fillier will be snubbed with nominations, her preseason hatty proved that she’s coming out on all cylinders, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the other two are people not listed here. We shall see.

Significantly Better Year (Pt/G increased by at least 0.4): Hilary Knight (7 votes)

Listen, I might be biased as she is the Captain of the Fleet (which sounds so cool and I do need art of her in a pirate uniform immediately if not sooner) but I personally am rooting for a Hilary Knight revenge tour. I think we saw it at the rivalry series and in the single preseason game she graced the ice with her presence, but I think she’s the type of player who underperformed last season and is now prepared to rip the league a new one. This was definitely one of the more varied questions with most candidates getting 1 or 2 votes so I’ll let you make your own opinions though I will say a lot of you are on the Daryl Watts train and think she’ll find her footing in Toronto. My one note is I’m not sure if some of you got the question because there are some candidates here (Sarah Nurse most notably) who had great and/or good seasons (above 0.5 points per game) and going up by 0.4 or more would mean they’d become transcendent players on the same level as the Spooners and Poulins of last season. I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m just saying there’s only so high players can go reasonably.

Involved in a Trade: Britta Curl (2 votes)

If the last question was a wide field of answers, this was a complete crapshoot. Aside from what I assume are two Minnesota fans hoping to dump Britta Curl on some other team, everyone else seems to be selected at random, so I won’t bother with any conjecture, you can observe and draw conclusions for yourself.

[generallysapphic]

okay so the riri stories will be under the hashtag #riri williams series so if you want to maneuver through for the playing dumb with stories!

[atzloverr]

My favorite fics/blogs!!!

(multifandom)

The answer by @berryunho

this might me by favorite ateez fic y’all… It’s literally so GOOOODDDDD I’m obsessed… (atz x reader, cult au)

@freyaphoria

this entire blog is everything !! (never stop posting girl your stories are amazing) lovely yandere atz x reader stories

@yankpop

A blog with lots of yan bts x reader and I’m here for it!

Abundance by @angelicyoongie

ot7 hybrid bts x reader, I’m literally obsessed with this story and I still hope that the author picks it up again 😭

Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea

(ao3) LOVE this ot8 ateez x reader fic!! The story is so good I’ve literally cried reading it…

Polarity

(ao3) yandere Jungkook x reader. I don’t need to say more. Read it.

The obsidian pearl by @angelicyoongie

yandere mermaid!Seokjin x reader, only a few chapters, but still amazing!!!

Complete

(wattpad) I don’t know how many times I’ve reread this story… It’s my comfort fic i think😭 a bts x reader soulmate au fic.

The four kingdoms

(wattpad) another AMAZING bts x reader story. This fic is the first part of the “blue eyes” series, and I’ve read all four parts like a million times… The following parts:

pyramids, dynasty, mist (mist isn’t finished)

Seven sins

(wattpad) seven deadly sins!bts x reader.

Blood ink

(wattpad) tattoo artist!Jungkook x reader, gang au

Circus by @lani-heart

A sweet (and angsty) fic about ot8 hybrid!ateez x reader!!! I highly recommend it! (ongoing)

@cheollipop

suuuuuch a good blog, has atz x reader and some svt x reader

@angelicyoongie

Amazing bts x reader stories!!! (two of them are mentioned in this post lol)

@xosannie

lovely nsfw ateez x reader, I’m so happy I found this blog likeeee, obsessed with their work dirty little secret (mingi x reader)

Guerilla by @sorryimananti-romantic

serial killer!Yunho x reader, literally obsessed with this and their entire blog!!!! And I’m Yunho biased so this hit the spot

@bro-atz

One of if not THE best atz nsfw x reader fics… Literal art, go follow right now!!!

Heavy and sticky by @k-hotchoisan

some filthy Seonghwa x reader smut!!!

When flowers bloom in the dark by @makeitmingi

Already so invested in this mafia au Hongjoong x reader story. It’s sooo good

Atz as boyfriends (nsfw ver) by @sorryimananti-romantic and @eightmakesonebraincell

explicit ateez ot8 headcannons (I’m obsessed)

The feral drabbles by @mint-yooxgi

Ateez (and skz but I haven’t read) x reader one-shots/drabbles!!! Includes darker themes (yandere), and omg this writing is so good!!!

@last-words-ofashootingstar

such good ateez x reader fics and drabbles!!! this blog has yandere content as well! Love their work allure

@gyupinkys

amazing svt x reader and atz x reader!!! I love their work like crazy (yandere Seonghwa x reader)

Our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom by @eightmakesonebraincell

poly ot8 atz x reader and ice hockey au, I literally died when reading this the writing is insanely good

Mist of celeste

(ao3) craziest read in my life. Space pirates atz x reader and this is a literary masterpiece. Read. It.

@holybibly

THE ONE AND ONLY QUEEN (atz x reader)

Sentinent by @trivia-yandere

(Oneshot) Yandere android namjoon x reader, omg I am obsessed with this and the author’s other works!!

Bloodline

(ao3) INSANE READ. I literally pray to god that this ot8 atz x reader story continues!!!

I’ll update this post if I find new works that I enjoy!

my masterlist

[waitingtobreatheagain]

Now, I’m seeing people say Penelope was not properly romanced. Y’all love to make things up. Just say you don’t like Polin and move on versus lying.

Colin is the first male lead (and will perhaps be the only we see to this degree) we will see be so completely and utterly in love with his partner. That comes from the depth of the relationship prior to the romantic aspect of their relationship. He had always longed to be close to Pen, and talk to her, dance with her, of his own volition.

I may make another post about this but we have seen him do more romantic things than any lead. He has even made it clear that he would leave everything behind if it was for Pen. No one and nothing comes before her and the beautiful love they’ve cultivated.

We are literally seeing through his actions and words Colin being in love for real this time. It’s clear by how even when he was still yearning he truly felt tortured not being with her, expressing his feelings, and wishing they could be together. Even in his anger and heartache following the LW reveal, we still see the love in so many ways. Pen is not someone he could ever throw out or away. The whole reason he still wants to marry her IS the depth of his love which is made obvious in his conversation with Eloise. He knows he needs some space to work out his feelings before joining her again but the farthest he can bear to be away from her is right outside their room.

Also, I’ve seen people say Pen wasn’t romanced because she wasn’t courted and again y’all aren’t considering the relationship. The point of courting is to get to know someone. They already know each other better than anyone else. When you really break down courting activities that is what they had done prior to their confessions.

Don’t let your biases get in the way of what we see right in our face. Pen was absolutely romanced and by the one she always wanted to experience it with.

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 22

chapter 38:

1. “"Right, so, your stylist?" Marlene asks, settling in as they continue to sway. "The one who looks like a fucking goddess? Yeah, so get this, she says we're friends…"”

james and marlene gossip sesh <3333333

2. 😧 MCGONNAGAL??????????

3. wait i think mcgonnagal is good. i’m pretty sure she’s from the phoenix. i’m not sure. i’m hopeful. i’m so hopeful

4. aww huey is kinda sweet. i like that’s he’s reg’s breath of fresh air when it comes to talking to the hallows

5. reg, i understand your anger, but please don’t make one of the only good sponsors feel bad

6. jealous james >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

7. “"I like your tea," James offers. "Maybe I'm biased, but it tastes better than anyone else's. What do you do to it?"

Regulus hums and lightly says, "I spit in it."

Without missing a beat, James replies, "Ah, that explains it."”

😭😭😭😭😭

8. “"Would you—" Regulus chokes on another relentless giggle, gasping a little. "Wait, would you actually drink my tea if I spit in it, James?"

"Love, I would let you spit directly into my mouth," James announces with absolutely no shame in his tone whatsoever.”

😭😭😭😭 james i love you

9. awww i love that barty is the most consistent part of reg’s life. i love barty

10. 😬 riddle is unconvinced in their love story. i- yikes

11. okay, right, mcgonnagal is good. thank god

12. dorcas wants to keep marlene out of the war, but only one of them has had a pov so far, so i’m not hopeful

13. oh shit marlene sounds hot

14. also, to add in, i’m so fucking glad there’s like no homophobia (that we know of) in this world

15. i do NOT want dorlene to be a tragedy in this universe

16. 😟 she gave back the ring. AHHHH

17. oh no. shit shit shit shit shit what did riddle do

18. “Riddle didn't even grant the liberty of leaving bodies behind for them to bury.” 😟😧

(but also, orion and walburga were dicks, so like, i’m not sad, just scared)

chapter 39:

1. aww regulus finally invites james in for tea

2. “On the day he accidentally kills a bee while tending to his flowers, he goes through the five stages of grief in less than an hour, which has nothing to do with the bee and everything to do with Vanity.” STOP! THE VANITY MENTION HURTS TOO MUCH

3. “When Regulus wants more time with him, he adds bagels, which James has now unconsciously been Pavloved into thinking of as his favorite food for that very reason.” STOP THATS SO GAY

4. sirius being dramatic about james and reg liking each other is TOP TIER in this fic, in the most realistic, aggravated, obnoxious, and completely loving way

5. BWAHAHAHHAHA JAMES GETTING A PIGGY BACK RIDE FROM SIRIUS IS GOLD

6. oh shit, (i’m not the best comprehensive reader, but i should have figured this out sooner), but from sirius’ perspective, he has to do the back and forth with remus his whole life. he doesn’t have the knowledge that i do, that a war is coming and they’ll finally get a chance to live together. he thinks he only gets to see remus once a year for two weeks at a time. this- this shit is heartbreaking yall

7. “”I watched him stand to his feet and tip himself into a river of blood in an act so tender that I'll never again be able to look at him with anything less than pure love. Every other member of the Black family, including you, fought and clawed their way home to their family, oftentimes to a family that never truly made them feel loved at all. Regulus? He fought and clawed through that arena, the entire time, for James. He's far more gentle than anyone gives him credit for."”

y’all, i’m crying over this. this is so lovely. effie is right, and i’m crying over how right she is

8. 😒 i know what’s coming. riddles a bitch. a right bitch. he’s gonna announce that previous victors are competing and i’m PISSED

9. so far, all three potters offered reggie food. they’re so hospitable, i love them

10. “He hasn't forgotten what it is to long for James. He still knows what it is to want him so badly that he'd be willing to kneel at the altar of James Potter and beg; he'd drop down on his hands and knees and crawl if that's what it took, if that would prove his devotion. He is the manifestation of longing built up with nowhere to go, and he craves, he yearns, he covets.”

both of them are so down bad

11. omg reg is so horny. his inner monologue is literally only like “”””“rip my clothes off please, read my mind and rip my clothes off”””””

12.AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I KNEW IT WAS COMING! BUT IM SO MAD!!! FUCK RIDDLE

13. effie is a queen. she is a godsend. and i’m so upset right now

14. not effie making them promise not to volunteer, and immediately james and sirius arguing over who’s gonna volunteer for her

15. i’m seething. i’m pissed beyond belief. i’m so angry it’s indescribable. my babies are going back into that arena. honestly, fuck riddle

[michelleelizabethtanner]

Fanfic asks 5 & 20!

Ty so much for the ask!

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

I am DETERMINED to finish at least one entry into the 2024 Brio Fic Week. Idk what suddenly happened where my brain no longer can make Brio kiss and instead is just rotting on Animal Crossing Happy Home Paradise, but here I am, designing adorable cottages every day instead of smut writing. 😂

I have a good start though, I swear. It’s gonna happen. If I have to take a PTO day off work and make it happen, this fic is happening.

A Raw Snippet (I haven’t read through yet so this may change, but this is kinda the general feel I was hoping for):

20. Any plans to work on original fiction this year?

I don’t think this will ever happen. Original fiction is hard because you have the task of worldbuilding and characterization from scratch, which requires so much skill to do well. For me specifically, I also would need to feel some sort of passion or attachment to original characters to feel moved enough to invest the hours and hours it would take to create all this from scratch. And idk if I have it in me right now. Creating chemistry is difficult, as we know. Because as consumers of media we know that we don’t always feel that chemistry from fictional characters. So it’s kinda like all these stars have to align for the magic to happen. I suppose there are fictional genres other than romance, but pfffft, who wants to write that? 😂

But also listen, I am TELLING y’all, the GG fandom writers are so far ahead of the traditional romance authorship currently monetizing the most lazy and cliched trope, it isn’t even a competition. Maybe I’m biased because I especially love the Brio chemistry and I love reading original takes on what it looks like, I am yet to find a published work that executes the way you all do. There is so much self doubt in fic writing. But please believe me, if Colleen Linear-Storytelling Hoover can hoover in those bucks, the masterpieces we have gracing our AO3 fandom tag would have no trouble. The world-building, the use of character-affirming symbolism, the subtle exploration of the personal psyches and an unlikely kinship between two damaged, guarded people… We HAVE all that. Our trope is tailored. It’s sprinkled with believable, in-character pieces of structure that make it something unique and beautiful. Our “stuck in an elevator,” or our “high school dating AU,” or our “jealous of new love interest who won’t work out anyway,” is so much more immersive and visual than all these romances I keep trying to tolerate but can’t take seriously because those authors aren’t you guys. Fic has absolutely ruined me.

New Year Fic Asks

[what-gs-watching]

"It's not my fault you're like, in love with me."

So while I was trapped in the house for days on end because of ridiculous weather, I kept whinging that I just wanted to get out and see the new Mean Girls. My sister was not surprised at all to hear it, assuming I would have gone the day it came out. 

Because I’m old, old enough that the original movie came out when I was a teenager and it was a big fucking deal. I remember going to the theater with my bestie and being completely obsessed. We all wanted to be Lindsay Lohan at that point, 2004 was a crazy time, and we were incredibly impressionable. So, Mean Girls was everything.

To be fair, it definitely wormed its way into the culture. My sixty-something mother-in-law knows ‘fetch’ and my metal headbanger favorite dude friend appreciates that on Wednesdays, we wear pink. Millennials get it. I’m honestly not even sure how many times I’ve seen it. If my life depended on it, I could accurately quote most of it.

So, I was excited to see the new one, and a little weary. 

But it was cuuuuuute, y’all. I purposely didn’t read anything about it, so I was slightly surprised that it was basically literally the same story, but I guess that makes sense. The whole schtick is that it’s a musical now, so I can roll with that.

One thing I will say though, it’s hard for musicals to make perfect sense. You lose some of the story by trying to flatten it into a catchy number. So it didn’t feel as comprehensive or fleshed out  as the original (which sounds insane because Mean Girls is just a story about girls being bitches, but still). 

I also really appreciated that they kept a good bit of the classic lines that everyone wants to hear. You have to have “stop trying to make fetch happen, it’s not going to happen” and “Yo go, Glen Coco!” it’s literally not Mean Girls without that. (LOL at the explanation though that 'fetch' is slang from an old movie.)

They did strip out some of the weirder aspects, leaving out the gym coach hooking up with one of the kids, which was sketch to begin with, even in 2004. And Karen trying to make out with her first cousin, which, yikes. So ya know, progress. 

But it did feel like they took some of the bite out of Regina. Like, I got that she was supposed to be mean, but there weren’t a ton of actions to reinforce that. Or even a ton of interaction between her and Cady. The frenemy-ship wasn’t fleshed out as much as I wanted it to be. 

On the bright side though, I didn’t expect the actress they chose for Regina. Body positivity, gang! And the cast was a lot more diverse. 

But, no one is ever gonna best Lohan at the role of Cady. Sure, New Cady was cute, and she did her best but honestly, she did not have the same kind of presence or charisma. But I’m probably biased as hell. Like I’ve said before, I just want Lindsay Lohan to get her life back together. 

ALSO, this is just me complaining, but I absolutely do not fucking understand fashion right now. Like, I just…I can’t. It’s weirdly 90’s, and it wasn’t cute in the 90’s originally and it’s not cute now. I was not in love with Cady’s “makeover” and that was one of the funner aspects of the original. Which could just be me projecting because I wanted to wear all of the shit that they did in 2004 but I was not that cool, gang. So now I’m the old guy who wants gen Z fashion to get off my lawn. It’s not their fault, but it’s still confusing. 

The point is, it was a fun way to spend two hours, and I love that Tina Fey and Tim Meadows reprised their roles. I will love anything Tina Fey does, forever and always. And she loves Mean Girls so much. So I’m going to, too. And I might bump “Revenge Party” because who doesn’t love a party that ends with a head on a spike? 

Did we really need this movie? Maybe not. But I suppose we can let the zoomers in on the fantasticness that is Mean Girls. Y’all can have a piece of the crown too, I guess - it’s just plastic, after all.

[freesia-writes]

There has been a distinct theme on my dash today, and I wanted to make a separate post about it cause it applies to all fandoms and all writing in general.

PLEASE forgive anything that may come across insensitively; I’m using quote marks for words I don’t necessarily agree with but don’t know what else to use, and if my loving intent is blurred by any poor wording choices, feel free to call it out. 💕

Something amazing happens when a story is written through the eyes of a main character who experiences life through significantly different lenses than the prominently portrayed experience in media (white, cis, comfortable financially, hetero, neurotypical, etc etc), and I think it’s even more impactful when the story isn’t *about* the “differences”. A number of wonderful things occur here:

People who usually don’t feel represented or can’t relate to most media are given the chance to feel what “mainstream” viewers experience.

People who share traits with the main character don’t feel so alone.

People who don’t relate or share the experience can begin to understand it in a new way, more so than just “learning” about it.

I think it also can slip past the biases we all hold — my 67yo white dad isn’t going to read a book featuring a main character with anxiety and panic attacks if the book is something like “How to Have Empathy for Mental Struggles”, but when it’s this real, fleshed-out person and you’re hearing the experience through their eyes in the context of an awesome plot… It gets in there. ;)

It also provides such a rich opportunity to expand our understanding beyond our default egocentrism, in ways we might not seek out intentionally, and it can really open our eyes to social issues more than traditional activism, I think. Why?

Not everyone has felt the suffocating weight of depression, not as “just sadness” but as complete emptiness that makes you just want to sleep so life can pass by a little faster.

Not everyone experiences a racing mind, elevated nervous system, and feeling of being taken over by something other than “you” to the point where daily tasks are overwhelming.

Not everyone can relate to being unable to fall asleep because the waistband of your pants is too thick and is right across your hip bone and you sleep on your stomach and it drives you crazy if you can’t get it just right.

Not everyone can relate to feeling terrified to the core when your dad gets pulled over by the cops and you’re so worried that you want to vomit in the back seat.

Not everyone has lived with a disconcerting sense of not feeling at home in their own body, and are overloaded with all the voices screaming 8 million different things of what they “should” be or feel or do.

Not everyone has been accused of being lazy, inconsiderate, or undisciplined when they’re actually as well-meaning and loving as could be, but their brain works differently and sometimes time just gets away from them.

These are just a few examples, and maybe I’m way late to the game here and y’all are like… DUH. 😂🙈 But I was just so delighted with this new fic, where the reader is autistic, anxious, etc, that it sent me on a thought trail.

The main reason I wanted to lay it out is to encourage all you writers out there who LIVE these realities to bring them into your characters instead of trying to mainstream your stories so they’ll reach a wider audience or whatever your motive may be. We NEED to hear amazing fanfics and original works from experiences that are wildly different than our own. It will expand our understanding, increase our empathy, and hopefully bring more unity instead of all the arguing and clamoring to be heard.

But, as always, I’m just another idiot on the internet so take it with a grain of salt. 😉

xoxo

[2000scnt]

You can love me… but you will hate me too.

•Miles Fairchild mini series•

Hey y’all I’m throwing these chapters out fast so be prepared! Let me know if you’d like me to change things here and there in the story, open for suggestions! Enjoy for now :)

//NSFW, sexual situations, profanity, violence, abusive behavior/// Please be respectful.

Chapter 3

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was about 2 hours that had gone by and thankfully they hadn’t found Madeline yet. She was so bored here waiting for the bell to go off signaling lessons were over. She wished she was able to bring something to entertain her. In an emergency they had pay phones in the grand foyer lined up like in a fancy hotel in Europe but right now there was no way she could show her face.

Madeline huffed and fell back onto the wall she was slouched against. The occasional drip from the sink echoed. She looked up at the ceiling and imagined shapes to pass the time. An octagon and two ovals fell onto each other making a heart upside down with a Diamond. Like a necklace she once seen her mother wearing at an event. She sighed, she missed her mother, she’d know how to help right now. Her calm demeanor and comfort would bring hope that everything would be okay.

Madeline bit her lip to keep herself from tearing up, we cannot weaken ourselves right now. She suddenly felt a small tickle in her hand and looked to see a small daddy long legs beginning to gingerly explore her thin fingers. She smiled fondly and it and picked her hand up to eye level. She studied the spider as it crawled, it’s thin legs testing out the area before continuing on its journey. Madeline was in her own world playing with it, not a thought of her situation.

A few minutes had gone by as she watched it, a giggle flowing out from the soft tickles. This little creature was innocent and not biased. They were just there, existing, why couldn’t people just do the same.

The bell blared, school was finally over. Madeline jumped slightly and quickly jumped up. She said farewell to the little thing and let it free near the window. It crawled away slowly. Madeline frowned but walked to the door. She pulled the heavy bin from the door and threw on a sweater with a hoodie that she’d pulled out from her backpack. She flipped the hood up covering her head completely. “Alright, here we go.” Madeline breathed in and pulled the door open.

She looked around the hallway and it was completely abandoned, the footsteps thundering on the level above. Madeline quickly walked down the hallways, past the empty classrooms, spooky paintings and statues. Her footsteps were quiet as a mouse. She somewhat knew her way around the school, it wasn’t that big but it had many levels and many secret entryways. Being a loner, she had plenty of time to explore.

Madeline suddenly hurt something scrap against the floor in one of the rooms. She came to a halt and listened. It was silent for a moment and thought maybe she was just being paranoid, but before she could make another step it sounded again. She cursed under her breath, she did not want to get caught in a haunting right now. But when she began to hear two people speaking with anger she knew someone was there.

Deciding against her own thoughts, she walked towards the voices. Madeline carefully hid behind the open door and looked through the crack to see Miles and some girl. She was milky white and had black curls with hazel eyes that watched Miles with hooded lids. She looked at him with desire. Miles ignored it as he spoke into a small phone, the antenna sticking up in the air. He was pacing.

He also seemed livid. “Listen here Mrs. Grose. You may be the one to look after us but I’m the one who gives the rules now that my parents are gone, I’m the heir to the estate. So, You make it happen. I want her invitation sent out within the next 40 minutes. And we will discuss my expulsion when I’m home, not in front of flora. I don’t want to worry her any further… Just tell her I’m visiting and taking time off from school.” Madeline furrowed her brows, expulsion? When did this happen?

Miles spoke a little more then bid farewell to the person at the end of the line. He seemed frustrated as he pushed his curls back, they just bounced right back. He stood and looked at the girl forgetting she was even there. She smiled seductively and awaited him to pounce on her as he always did. Miles walked towards her and grabbed her chin tightly. “Tell that fucking cunt, Madison is it? To stay the fuck away from Madeline or I’ll personally send her to hell.” Madeline froze, why was Miles threatening her? Was he defending her? So many questions flooded her mind. The girls face instantly twisted into fear and she began to tug back but miles held her firmly in place. “Are we fucking clear Clara?” Clara? That sounds familiar. The girls hazel eyes began to tear up, but she didn’t respond. “Say it! Say it!” Clara shook her head in agreement frantically. “Yes! Yes, I’ll tell her!” The girl was shaking.

Miles watched her squirm for a little before pushing her face away. She began to weep as she rubbed her chin. Her beautiful hazel eyes looked back up at him with sadness. “Why are y-you protecting her?” She questioned. Miles shook his head. “Because she’s mine to deal with.” He responded sternly. The girl looked down and mumbled something to herself with a look of distaste. Madeline couldn’t hear but Miles certainly did. “Stop telling everyone you’re my girlfriend, you were nothing but just a good fuck.” He laughed with malice. “Not even good at that.” He finished shaking his head to himself as he walked towards the door.

Madeline jumped into action looking for somewhere to hide. There was a small door beside her. She quietly opened it and hid inside leaving it slightly cracked so he wouldn’t hear it close. It smelled of mold and dust that tickled her nose but she had to resist sneezing. Miles pulled the door open and walked out the room fixing his tie under his wool sweater. But he suddenly froze. He slowly rose his head up and sniffed around him. Something familiar was in the air. Miles didn’t want her to know he knew she was there. He smiled to himself and walked down the hallway, taking his time with it.

Madeline gulped. What the hell was that? He was like a fucking bloodhound. She couldn’t shake this weird feeling, but ignored it. She walked out the closet and cautiously looked around finding no one there. She looked back at the door to see the girl shakily wiping her tears with sniffles. Madeline felt guilty, she was a beautiful girl who deserved better then who she wanted. She wanted to stay and comfort the girl but it just wasn’t the time. Instead, she found a wrapper in her pocket and quietly began to fold it. She learned a trick within seconds in camp back when she was 12.

The wrapper noises caught the girls attention and she looked up at the door. “Hello? Miles?” She sounded almost hopeful when she asked for miles but also dejected. She carefully stood up from the desk she was sitting at, it creaked under her weight. This part of the school gave her the absolute creeps but she only ever came down here with Miles when he wanted to hook up. Up until now at least.

Clara pushed her black hair over her shoulder and clenched her fists. She slowly walked through the door into golden lit hallways, the setting light coming through the windows making shadows and glimmering reflections. It made it seem less scary. Her shoulders slumped down in relief from the fear of being alone down here. Her foot then stepped on something. She stepped back and found a little heart made from the wrapper of something laying flatly. She smiled and picked it up. It was like someone had left it for her. She knew it couldn’t have been Miles. He didn’t eat peanut M&M’s.

Clara held it to her chest and felt a spark in her. It was like her guardian angel had left it for her. She sighed, maybe they knew that she deserved better than to be treated like trash, but she couldn’t help but think this is the only kind of love she could get. Her and miles had been somewhat of a secret, he liked it that way. In public he was mean and cold but behind closed doors he was kind and sensual. She thought it was love, if you can even call it that. “Thank you…” clara mumbled. She sniffled one last time and clicked down the hallway and up the stairs quickly.

“You’re welcome…” Madeline whispered as she watched the naive girl disappear from the crack of the door. She pulled it open and walked out. Madeline then ran down the hallway and opened an exit door that led to the garden through a door that was hidden behind a bush. Now it was time to figure out how get to the dorms and into her dads car, and questions to be answered later.

••••••••••••••••••••••

Madeline groaned and treaded through the garden, jumping over a small metal black gate that separated the dorms to the main school grounds. She looked around in fear of getting caught but thankfully no one knew of this hidden path. Besides the kids who were high or came to get drunk. But they kept out of school drama and to themselves. Madeline sometimes hung out with a boy named Kody and two girls who just joked and smoked. But she wouldn’t call them friends, just people who didn’t give a crap who she was and just wanted to have fun.

Madeline sneaked past some unsuspecting girls as they talked on their small phones outside of the dorms gates. School had just finished and already kids were stuck to their phones. She shook her head and was able to push through the students unnoticed. Thankfully she took the stairs to not risk getting in an elevator with students who’d snitch.

Madeline skipped over steps and breathed heavily running up the stairs. None of the students took the stairs so she wasn’t in risk of getting caught. She also didn’t have a dorm mate in her room so she didn’t have to worry about that.

Once she got to the 4th floor she peeked through the small window to see that the halls were completely empty. Weird. She took a second before pushing the door open and running down the hall, she didn’t care that her heavy steps would catch anyone’s attention. She just wanted to be out of here. Once she got to her door, she put in her pin code and the door unlocked. Madeline sighed with relief when her door slammed shut behind her. She fell onto her bed facedown and screamed. She was finally alone with her thoughts and was left spiraling. So much had happened in one day. Miles Fairchild, the most untouchable guy in school acknowledged her existence and ended up hating her. She finally stood up to her bullies and in that getting herself expelled most likely. Finding out more secrets about miles. Helping an unknown girl. And trying to save herself in the process. Her life really was a movie, things that only happen in books. But the most important question being, what does miles want with her?

Madeline wanted to dwell on it but she wasn’t in the position to. She looked at her clock to see that it was 3:25 pm. Her dad would be there to pick her up in 5 minutes. Lucky for her she had packed before leaving for class that morning. She hurriedly grabbed another jacket. Brushed her teeth, her hair and washed her face. All within 2 minutes.

Madeline took a second to look at her face, her dark blue eyes were puffy and slightly red. Her worry lines more prominent and her lips were chapped and bloody from stress. “God, I’m awful..” She sighed. But then her beeper dinged. Her father had messaged her that the car was downstairs. Her father never personally picked her up, to clarify, he always sent his driver. How sentimental. It seemed as though he wanted to spend as little time as possible with her.

Madeline picked up her bag and ran out of her room. This time she didn’t care if anyone saw her, she already had her ticket out of here waiting for her downstairs. A couple of girls gasped and tried to stop her and she slinked past them but Madeline was quick to dodge them with a wave and speedy pace. The sleek black Benz awaited her at the curved driveway.

Madeline sprinted towards the car struggling to carry her bag. Then out of the corner of her eye she noticed one of the dorm governess who kept order in the girls dormitory recognize her. “Miss Roth!” She called. The plump woman began to wave to her and walk towards her. Madeline jumped into the car and slammed the door shut as the woman got closer. The older woman caught up and began to knock at the window. “Miss Roth! Where in heavens do you think you’re going!” She insisted. Madeline told the driver to get on with it and the woman continued to make a scene. “You will only further the consequences of your behavior!” Madeline ignored her as the car began to speed up. “Miss Roth! This is outrageous!” The woman stumbled over her feet as the car left her in the dust.

Madeline looked back and slumped back when the older women became smaller and out of view when they pulled out of the long driveway and onto the highway. Her school was very secluded in dense forests. So right from the gates you were already on the highway and on your way. No looking back now.

Madeline pulled out her MP3 player and some headphones. Some music would help get some things off her mind. Thankfully, her fathers drivers never spoke and never asked questions so she didn’t have to worry about him speaking to her about what had happened. The governess went by the name of Daria Esther. She was an older woman in her 60’s who was on the heavier side from the hips and behind. She always got the girls in trouble for every little thing, from listening to music too loud to wearing tank tops to bed. She was traditional and a snitch. So, Madeline was happy to see her kick rocks.

Madeline looked out the window in anticipation to be with her father and enjoy the weekend. For now, her problems were behind her and until then she wouldn’t open that can of worms. All she needed was some rest and peace.

But she’d be getting way more than she expected…

(Finally done with this one, i was slacking so much!! Anyway, keep it going ;))

[timdrake-yumm]

I’ve come to realize that there are several different types of Tim Drake fans, that can all be sorted different ways, but I’m going to sort them this way:

Hate/Dislike Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Damian Wayne: idk if this is a result of cancel culture or what, but the fact that they’ve all wronged him at least once is apparently the worst thing in the universe, as though not everyone has done something that could be perceived as wronging Tim at some point in comic history. I hate to break it to you guys, but y’all are extremely biased, and Tim isn’t so innocent either

Hate/Dislike Jason Todd and Damian Wayne: This is because they both tried to kill Tim at one point and you haven’t been able to let it go. While this is more valid than the last one, I still think you need to chill with the character hate, they’ve both been through some pretty traumatic stuff and we’re mostly not in their right minds when they did that. I mean, I’m not saying it’s okay that they tried to kill Tim, but they’re also fictional representations of what might occur if you came back to life after having died only to see all your insecurities thrown at your face, or if you were raised by a murder cult.

Hate/Dislike Damian Wayne: Now this group of people likely fall into the mentality that because at one point Tim hero-worshipped Jason, he must not have hard feelings for him, and therefore neither should you. But also you can’t forgive the 10-year-old for acting on his traumatized, raised-by-a-murder cult mentalities, like any 10-year-old has the ability to think outside their biases born from the childhood they were provided.

Love/Like ALL the robins: You either believe that Tim wouldn’t hold hard feelings, so neither should you, or you realize they’re all fictional characters who hold the fatal flaw of having flaws and not being perfect individuals.

I’m not saying that any of this is 100% accurate or anything, and you could probably throw some variations of adding Bruce, Stephanie, or even Alfred into the mix, but these are the thoughts that I had while taking a shower yesterday and have only just now put into typing.

Anywho, basically, there are people who don’t like Dick Grayson because of what happened when Dick gave Damian Robin, and while I see your perspective, and I don’t agree with his actions at the time, Dick was a desperate, young adult who just lost his second father and was thrust into a role and burden he never wanted. Of course he made mistakes, anyone would! I don’t believe he was ever trying to alienate Tim the way it ended up being. (Side note: the wanting to put Tim in Arkham is fanon, and should not be used as a reason for disliking Dick. I believe there was mention of therapy, but that’s it, and while it’s extremely hypocritical of Dick to suggest therapy while not being willing to go himself, it’s not like he was exactly wrong. They all need therapy; even before everyone he loved was dying around him Tim needed therapy. You probably need therapy too.)

For everyone who dislikes Jason Todd, I see your reasoning, I really do. He took his hurt and pain out at being replaced and unavenged out on Tim and likely did some pretty heavy psychological damage whilst doing so. It’s a bit hypocritical of him to be so upset about being replaced when he 1. Doesn’t know the full story and/or 2. Was a “replacement” himself. But you have to remember that none of this is really about Tim. Maybe that makes it worst, maybe that makes it better, but it’s the truth. Jason literally died and came back to life, and the minute he gains complete thought he realizes he’s been in the hands of the League of Assassins, and that his torturer and murderer is still out there causing harm to everyone he can. Was he wrong to take all of this out on Tim? Yes, obviously, Tim was just trying to help and honor Jason’s legacy. Does he deserve a chance to make it up to Tim and be better? Also yes. Batman preaches about second chances, which is part of the reason why he doesn’t kill, but to me that’s like being someone who’s never been a victim of rape or abuse, and telling someone who has been a victim of rape or abuse that they’re wrong for being traumatized and that they should forgive their rapist or abuser and just get over it. That’s not how trauma works, and even if you’re against killing someone yourself, you don’t get to tell a victim how to protect themselves from those who harmed them. Locking him up didn’t and doesn’t work, and all he’s doing is creating more victims without any inclination towards change or remorse.

Sorry, that went into a bit of a rant that nobody asked for. Not that anybody asked for any of this, of course. Anywho, the point of all that was to say that Jason Todd is a victim. I’m not saying that Tim isn’t a victim, and that he shouldn’t also get the same allowances as Jason of course. Tim also went through a very traumatizing experience, he should get to do what makes him feel safe. (Another side note: forgiving someone and putting yourself back into a harmful situation are two different things. You can forgive someone and also want to never have to see them again. That’s valid, and even if that person isn’t actively trying to harm you anymore, their presence in and of itself can still be harmful.)

This all leads into Damian Wayne. I mentioned before that Damian showed up as a traumatized 10-year-old straight out of being raised by a murder-cult. Damian, like Jason, is a victim and deserves the chance to grow and change. Tim is also a victim, and deserves not to constantly be in a state of Danger. So what does this mean? I’ve seen some people mention that Damian is never actually punished for any of his harmful actions. And I’ve seen other people wonder how you plan on punishing the traumatized 10-year-old. I’m not a parent, but I am currently studying psychology, and I believe some of the same stuff applies. You can’t just throw Damian in jail or ground him or something, that’s never going to work, and will only alienate him further— reducing his likelihood of listening and being open to change. Damian needs to be shown that his actions have consequences though (Look at me acting like he’s a real person). You can’t just hear/see him actively trying to harm someone and be like :( bad Damian. That just tells him that he’s never going to be punished for his actions, and can therefore get away with it. You need a balance, and to also recognize that Tim is allowed to be defensive and not want to be in the same room as Damian. You see Damian do something wrong? He’s benched from being Robin, and you explain that this is not what Robin represents and that Robin doesn’t bring harm to innocents. However, when you see him do something good? You reward him. Now you have positive reinforcement showing that certain actions have benefits. Damian is a victim of his past, but he’s also a child emulating what he knows. There’s a difference between not punishing him for being a victim, and teaching him to not create his own victims.

And that has been my unwanted and unasked for rant about the robins. Another side note, but if you create media that depicts any of the robins or Bruce, or any DC character in a negative light, I’m not telling you to stop. I can think that they don’t accurately depict who the characters are suppose to be and still love reading the angst.

[colorlesschristmastree]

Ew ignore that obnoxious ass anon, i’m telling y’all these nesta stan’s are ✨STALKING✨us, they’re bringing their phony act of thinking they know it all over to our blogs, basically saying ignorant, biased bs to try to get under one of our skin. it’s so transparent that they bore me..

Acotar fans really are grown women who just do shit like that all the time 🥴 like at least if youre going to be chronically online don’t be an embarrassment or on the ignorant side of things

Lmao you’re completely right love, I’m not even gonna bother responding to their asks anymore because they aren’t making any points and at this point we just aren’t communicating. Not gonna go further back and forth with someone who can’t bother to get their ass of anon.

Like I still haven’t changed my opinion, I really don’t think SJM gives a fuck about those books and the biggest indicator for me is the poor writing for acosf and the minuscule plot that took place in that book. And yeah i’m sure that person could open their flapper and argue that it set up stuff, but imagine having these world changing powers and having your story and your life and thoughts teased and discussed for years only for it to become a set up book.

All Im seeing is Feysand supremacy, even the author can’t shut up about them.

[muppeted]

3, 10 and 13 for the book asks!

ahhh tysm for asking! I’m putting this under a read more bc i got a lil out of control lmao

3. what are your top 5 books of the year?

ok I’m planning on making a separate post w my top 10 2022 releases so consider this list like. my top 5 books I read this year that were NOT released in 2022. if that makes sense. in no particular order:

-the inheritance trilogy by nk jemisin—putting an entire series as one book may be cheating BUT. also me recommending jemisin is very like. hey, did y’all know that one of the most acclaimed sf writers of our generation is uhhh….really fucking good? but oh my god she is.

-the book of atrix wolfe by patricia a mckillip—was reading this when I found out mckillip had passed away, which made for an extra emotional experience. her writing is so, so beautiful, and has had such an impact on the way I write (ok, try and mostly fail to write)/think about fantasy. this is a great standalone from her, about ghosts and curses and the magic of kitchens.

-the singing hills cycle by nghi vo—this is just like. everything I want from a series of linked fantasy novellas. if that makes sense. Like I’m such a sucker for books where the frame narrative is someone going around collecting stories, and the stories vo tells are so real, feel deeply embedded in history and mythology, love and rage. and, ofc, also very very queer and hot (who among us has not wanted to be semi-abducted by beautiful morally ambiguous tiger lady).

-ghost summer by tananarive due—one of the things I love abt due is her stories work SO well read aloud—levar burton’s podcast featured one of the stories from this book and it was such a good ep, I really recommend seeking it out. listening to her read at an event I attended a couple years ago was also amazing—the entire audience was like so tense and so with her for the entire story, it was great. another thing I love about this collection is that at the end of each story she gives some context around the writing of the story—it’s fun! I think more authors should do this w their short story collections!

-peter darling by sa chant—yes it is embarrassing that it’s taken me this long to read this. but I did! finally! and I did cry !

ok actually going through the list I cried while reading 4/5 of these despite the fact that none of them are like. stereotypical cry-y books. which could mean 1) i love books that make me cry or 2) i just cried a lot this year. probably both

10. what was your favorite new release of the year?

gonna say it’s a tie between the daughter of doctor moreau by silvia moreno-garcia and the hurting kind by ada limon. I just finished the hurting kind so that might make me a lil biased but limon is one of my all time favorite poets and this collection peeled me like an orange so ! (is that a phrase? is that something ppl say? icr)

And then the second daughter of dr Moreau was announced I was like I’m going to love this and then I did. reworking SF classics is just so completely my shit and moreno-garcia does it sososososo well. really recommend watching island of lost souls (the 1932 adaptation) right before watching this, they pair together perfectly (it;s like, one takes this base story and does something mostly shitty but still kind of fascinating/intriguing with it, and the other takes this base story and turns it into something incredible).

13. what were your least favorite books of the year?

Listen. I read so many bad romance novels this year. also a lot of really really good romance novels but. so many bad ones. i don’t want to like name names but here is a vague list:

-romance that was literally just ted lasso but ALSO the author was originally a het romance writer who had never written gay before so the sex scenes were like ‘he put his thingy in my thingy’ and it’s like maam. this is not my immortal. either say hole or leave.

-tiktok popular book that was EXTREMELY badly-written (yes this happened 3 times. it will probably happen again. I’m not even on tiktok--i’d see some non-tiktok person rec it also so i’d be like oh then it must be good ! and it never was. idk i am Charlie Brown and tiktok is lucy holding the football)

-started reading a fantasy romance and was intrigued by the premise and then they described the love interest and I was like ‘oh. this is just fantasy k*lo ren.’ i have like zero feelings on k*lo ren he just is not sexy to me so it always took me out of it and made me put the book down. also I don’t even think the books themselves were r*ylo or republished fanfic or anything I think the authors just think that character/actor is sexy. which is fine. i just am not personally into that. this also happened twice

[kaitsawamura]

somewhere in between

; summary

After a night of drinks with coworkers, they find out you’re a virgin. That “they” includes Daichi Sawamura, the biggest fat crush you’ve had in a long time. But an interesting turn of events tells you the feeling might be mutual and lends you an opportunity that you never would have hoped for in a million years. Will you take it?

; stats

Pairing: Coworker!Daichi Sawamura x Virgin!Reader (she/her)

Rating: M for MATURE, 18+ only minors do not interact

Content Warnings: virginity, loss of virginity, social alcohol consumption

Tags: semi-proofread because once I finished I didn't want to wait and only skimmed :crine:, friends to lovers, virgin reader, discovered pining, mutual attraction, lots of fluff, Daichi and Reader are under the influence of a couple drinks, oral (f receiving), sex with a condom, feeling completely and utterly safe with someone, it's more about that than the smut, goofy cute giggles about body parts

Word Count: 6837 (per AO3)

; links

Better Than Fiction Collab: This piece is part of a collaboration! All the other wonderful pieces written by talented authors can be found by clicking on the link.

AO3 Version

HQ Masterlist

; author’s note

Beware folks, this is really really really self-insert and self-indulgent. However, I think sprinkling in a little of my real life at the beginning of this fic is going to be relatable for a lot of people? Maybe? The theme of this collab to me, means sex that’s about more than just hot and heavy blacked-out vision, etc, etc. It’s about the safety and the knowing so I tried to play really heavy on that. This is my first Daichi fic and I’m so nervous because I love him so much and I don’t want to fuck this up lmaooooo. HE’S MY HUSBAND. ANYWAY as always, I hope y’all enjoy!

“Wait, really? You’ve never even been kissed?” You’re really regretting finally giving in to after hours drinks with your new coworkers. Well, new is a relative term. You’ve been working at the agency for about a year now. So, not new. But this feels like a new side of them that you haven’t seen before. It’s a fun side, sure, but a side that doesn’t really appeal to you all that often. And now you’re remembering why; it’s bubbling to the surface, ruining the buzz that should have you feeling warm and happy and included.

It’s not like admitting you’re a virgin bothers you; it’s something you’ve been okay with since high school. It’s something you’ve become more okay with as you’ve gotten older. Everyone lives at their own pace, right? You’re always the first to preach it because it’s true. It’s perfectly fine to have had sex by your age and perfectly fine to have not had sex by your age. But sometimes, you’re around someone who gets to that inevitable line of questioning: you’ve never been on a date?! You’ve never held someone’s hand?! You’ve never been kissed?! And in your experience, the questions are never asked with ill intent. But sometimes… sometimes they hurt.

Because they make you wonder for a split second if there’s something wrong with you. They make you wonder if you have false confidence. If you’re not desirable. Not worthy of being wanted, even if only in a physical way.

And unfortunately for you, right now is one of those instances. The heat is sitting heavy in your cheeks along with the alcohol. The sensation is not eased when you take another sip of your drink and over the rim of your glass see Daichi’s eyes on yours.

Daichi Sawamura. He’s arguably, easily, the hottest person here. At the bar. At your work. In the town, but you’re a little biased. You get to see his face five days a week. You get to see his personality in action five days a week. It’s what makes his strong chin and wide shoulders, his barrel chest and massive thighs, his deep brown eyes and genuine smile all the more attractive. He’s a workhorse because he loves what he does and he’s good at it. He’s kind and steady and reliable. Always encouraging others. You’re pretty sure he’s the glue who holds everyone together.

He was easy to befriend. The first one who welcomed you wholeheartedly to the agency. The one who made sure you understood how things worked from the filing system to the second-hand espresso machine in the lunch room that sometimes had to be restarted to be used. He’d checked in with you everyday for at least the first three weeks and when he was satisfied that you’d had the hang of things, he’d made a point of taking the same lunch break as you so you had a familiar face to hang out with. He was the only one that had remembered your birthday.

You set your glass down a little harder than you mean to as you shrug your shoulders and avert your eyes from Daichi back in Ryū’s direction. “Nope, never been kissed. It’s not that big of a deal. It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen.” He sits back into the booth, face a little incredulous.

“Isn’t that kind of a cop out? If you want something, ya gotta go for it! Take Daichi, for instance. He practically fought tooth and nail to partner with you on that last project. Something about how you two were the best suited for it. Which wasn’t exactly a lie but…” He trails off when he catches sight of Daichi glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. You feel the heat from your cheeks burst low in your belly, burst from heat into swooping butterflies. Daichi had insisted on working the project with you? It made sense but it also made sense for him to have partnered with at least two other people in the office. Ryū lets out a breath through pursed lips. “And that’s the end of the line for me, folks. I sense I’ve made some mistake. This is where I say ‘Well, look at the time! I better be going!’ and exit before I make myself look like an even bigger ass.”

Now it’s your turn to look incredulous as you glance between him and the three other people who are silent but on the verge of giggling. Your turn to look incredulous when you set your eyes back on Daichi and you can see that he’s blushing in the low light of the bar. It has your bloody running syrupy in your veins. You watch as he stands to let Ryū out and then the other three as they quickly decide they better get going too. It’s a Friday night but everyone has plans for their Saturday. You stand as well, slipping your arms into your jacket and heading to the front to pay your portion of the tab.

“Uh, mind if I cover this one?” You turn to Daichi, intent on insisting that it’s fine, you’ve got it but when you see the smile on his face, the one that says he’s sorry for the way the night turned, you offer him a small smile back and step aside as he swipes his credit card. “Hey, I’m sorry about tonight. I don’t think Ryū was trying to be a dick.” You laugh, shaking your head as the two of you walk outside. There’s a light snowfall; you mentally chide yourself for not leaving earlier. Your old car is gonna have a field day trying to start in this weather. At least you were wearing a jacket and had a blanket in the trunk in case you had to sit there for a minute.

“Oh, I know he’s not. Ryū wouldn’t hurt a fly, I know that. I just… It’s really, really okay, right? But sometimes being reminded of the fact that I’m 29 and still a virgin feels a tad defeating, ya know?” Daichi’s watching you, a soft expression on his face that you can’t place but one that makes you feel as if you’re being laid bare. It’s a feeling you normally wouldn’t like but with Daichi, you can’t help but feel safe in being known. “It’s whatever, I’m just being a baby. It’s probably the alcohol, I don’t really drink. I did have fun tonight though! I might even consider doing it again sometime.” You smirk, pulling your keys out of your bag. “Will you take an Uber?” Daichi shakes his head before stuffing his hands in his coat pocket as he walks with you to your car.

“Nah, I live within walking distance. And, uh, for the record. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re being a baby at all.” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck; the movement has his scent wafting to you through the cold air, faintly musky and smelling of expensive cologne. You have to stop yourself from leaning in to catch a bigger pull of it. Another thing about him that puts you at ease.

“Thanks, Daichi. You’re really sweet. I better get going.” You feel something pulling at the inside of you, something near panic but a good kind of panic like you’re about to skydive. You turn back to him and grab his hand. It’s warm and large and when he doesn’t pull away, it gives you more confidence to keep going. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you insisted on working on the last project with me.” You look up at him, feeling the snowflakes catching fluffy on your eyelids as your breath comes out in a small puff. He grins and it’s like there’s a 1000 watt light bulb standing right in front of you. When Daichi smiles, he smiles with his whole face, all the way through to his dimples and squinted eyes. It makes your heart pound and your chest fill with a balloon fit to burst.

“Hey, I know you’ve talked before about how much you like breakfast. There’s a new little place nearby if you want to try it out sometime. I’ve been meaning to check it out for a while.” You haven’t dropped his hand and he hasn’t moved away and all of a sudden you can’t quite feel the cold as acutely as you had just a moment before. You nod and back up a couple steps towards your car.

“You free tomorrow?” The snow starts coming down harder when he nods. He stands there, snow dusting his dark brown hair and you have to suppress another urge, this time to brush it from his head. “Daichi, you wanna a ride to your place?” You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your throat as he dashes to the passenger side of your car and you both hop in. You put your keys in the ignition and crank. Your car sputters, revs, but stays off. You feel your stomach drop. Please. You turn the key again, same thing. “Shit. Um. What time is it?” Daichi glances at his phone.

“12:45. I’m guessing there’s not gonna be any towing companies open. Does this happen a lot?” He’s looking at you with concern; you know it’s not pity but it still curdles in your stomach the same way.

“I mean. Yeah. It’s an old car. I’m sorry, I guess I can’t give you a ride home. I’ll have to call my sister to give me a ride to my place. Hopefully she’s awake. I might have to take a rain check for tomorwoow too… What?” You hadn’t noticed until just now how much room he was taking up in your car but now you’re looking at Daichi and how he’s watching you mumble to yourself and how his broad shoulders cover the expanse of your passenger seat. You can’t put a finger on the expression on his face but his lips are softly parted and he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he can see at that moment.

“Sorry, it’s nothing. Just a trick of the light. Look, I don’t want to be too forward but my apartment’s a ten minute walk from here. My couch has a foldout bed that’s not too bad. We could call a tow truck after breakfast tomorrow.” You don’t realize how far he’s leaned in your direction until he’s leaning back, intentionally giving you space, you think. “But it’s entirely up to you. I can wait here until your sister picks you up if you’d rather still call her.”

You sit back too and stare out your windshield. The steam from your combined breaths is already creating fog on the glass. There’s a thumping deep in your chest that you really want to ignore but you can’t. The combination of this and the way your stomach is flipping wildly in your abdomen is making you queasy. You really, really want to say yes to his apartment. But in light of tonight’s conversation, nerves are making it a little harder for you to say yes. God, you really want to say yes.

“I mean… if it’s not too much trouble that would be great. I really don’t want to impose though, I can totally call my sister!” Again he’s watching you; you can feel your words coming out faster and your voice pitching upwards. You’re a little too used to not wanting to be an imposition and he knows it, can see it written as plain as day across your face. He reaches across to you, places a stilling hand on your arm.

“Who taught you that accepting an offer is an imposition? I wanna have a little chat with them.” His words catch you off guard and eyes are intense in the small space of your car. But they soften around the edges the longer you’re silent, stunned into it. He clears his throat and smiles then. “It’s no trouble at all, seriously. Do you have a paper and pen? We can leave a note on the dash in case people are wondering about it before we get down here in the morning.” You nod, running his words over in your head as you dig through your bag. All you have is your notebook so you tear a page from the back and write a quick “too late for towing, will be back first thing in the morning” with your number looped across the bottom.

Daichi takes it from you, his fingers brushing your hand as he takes the paper. “I’ll stick it under the wiper and then we can start walking?”

“Sounds good.” Your head spins a little as you get out of your car and lock it. You’re going home with Daichi. There’s no preordained rule that says you have to sleep with him but even going back to his place now that there’s something out in the open between the two of you has notes from a song you didn’t know existed ringing clean and tripping bright in your blood. Everything suddenly seems hazy and in focus all at once as if something thicker than blood ran through your veins.

When he meets you on the sidewalk and walks close to you, that feeling doesn’t go away. When snow starts catching in your hair and his, and you can feel time moving more slowly in this weird liminal space, that feeling doesn’t go away. When he points out an apartment window a few stories up as you walk where you can see the residents already have their Christmas tree up, that feeling doesn’t go away. It definitely doesn’t go away when you slip a little on some ice and Daichi grabs you before you fall and instead of letting go, you end up holding on to him for dear life. The feeling doesn’t go away when you blink and you’re at his apartment, a little brownstone complex, and he guides you through his door with a hand at the small of your back.

The lights bloom on gradually when he flips the switch by the front door, bathing everything in a low warm glow. You feel sleep heavy in your limbs but something else buzzes behind your eyes when Daichi trails behind you into his living room. A big leather couch with throw blankets; a huge coffee table with wood legs and an inlaid glass top. There’s a couple of large books on it and a couple paperbacks too. Some coasters. A string of lights up over the glass doors leading to a small balcony outside. A darkened hallway with pictures you can’t make out on the wall. His kitchen tucked into the corner on your right. It smells like cinnamon.

You turn to him, a grin large on your face. “Are those cinnamon pine cones I smell?” Somehow you are both surprised and not at the same time. Surprised because Daichi is so different from a lot of people you’ve met, guys in particular. You’re also not surprised for the exact same reason, because it is Daichi. He’s chuckling from where he’s standing at the fridge. He hands you a cold bottle of water that you gulp down immediately.

“There was a stand selling them at the corner the other day. They smelled good, okay?” He’s laughing some more as he finishes his own water and makes his way to the coffee table. You pretend to be looking at some pictures on the wall but really you’re watching him pull the table away from the couch and the way his whole body works together while he does. This is dangerous, you realize. Not in a bad way but in a way that nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. You have a huge crush on your coworker and everything about how this night is going is not helping.

“Daichi, I hate to bother you for anything else but can you direct me to the restroom?” Maybe splashing some water on your face, washing the makeup off will help the buzzing in your head. He sends you down the hallway while he ducks in his room. The small space is no less tidy than the rest of the apartment; the same wood floor, a plush rug, white countertops and a spotless mirror. You glance through the couple bottles displayed neatly next to the sink, look at what toothpaste he uses, what face wash and moisturizer. It feels strange to be learning all these things about him. Strange and somehow right. You do splash some water on your face and it does help you feel a little better until the feeling of a somewhat clean face makes you realize that the rest of you still has the day’s grime settled on your clothes and skin. It’s fine; you’ve gone a night without your full shower routine before. This won’t be any different.

“Hey, if you wanna take a shower that’s totally fine with me!” Daichi’s voice rumbles from the other side of the door but you can hear the pause so you open it; he’s standing there holding a big old shirt and long pajama pants with red checkers. You push the thought away that they’re some other girl’s but you realize maybe you didn’t hide the thought so well because something dawns on his face as he quickly adds “Oh! They’re my little sister’s! They’re clean, I just thought maybe you wouldn’t want to sleep in jeans. She left them here by accident the last time she visited and I think they’ll be comfortable.”

“What about your shower?” He shrugs, explains he took one that morning. You thank him and once you find the extra towels he’s told you are in the cupboard above the toilet, you get in and thank your lucky stars. You didn’t glance at your phone to see the time but you knew it had to be going on 1:30 by now. Thank god it’s a Saturday. It would have been killer for you both to have to be at work by 8 if it had been a weekday.

The warm water helps you feel a lot more human as does the fact that Daichi has a trustworthy face wash in the shower. When you step out and dry off, put the pajamas on that smell faintly of a floral perfume, you’re pretty sure you might fall asleep on the spot. But you push past it, fold your clothes up for tomorrow and head back out to the living room. The kitchen light is back off but a smaller one next to the couch has replaced it; you watch quietly from the hallway as Daichi unfolds a blanket and lays it out on the sofa bed. Watch him as he places one down to lay on and one to cover up with and how he lays out an extra two pillows. There's fresh water already on the coffee table next to the couch and a phone charger has been plugged in near it as well. You wonder absently how he came to be so domestic or if it was just that he was… good.

He notices you standing there, in the shadow of the hallway, and smiles. It’s a small one this time, warm, familiar. “I hope it’s comfortable enough. Akari said it was so I have to trust she wasn’t fibbing.” He’s got on a white t-shirt, gray sweatpants. He watches you, gone even softer around the edges from the beer and time of night. You think, maybe softer around the edges because you’re standing here in his living room. And something about the way his cheeks dust with pink as you watch him back has your feet propelling you forward, more into his space.

Maybe it’s stupid but for a moment, you’re dumbstruck. All the memories you have of him come flowing through your brain, like shooting stars across a night sky. How he was captain of his high school volleyball team and Ryū had piped in with that he was the best one there was. How he had a framed picture of his family at the office. The countless times he’d dropped a latte on your desk just the way you liked it from the coffee shop on the corner. All the times you’d seen him hold doors open for people when he didn’t realize someone was watching. The way he spoke to every single client, every person he came in contact with. As if they were, at that moment, the only person to exist in the world. He gave his full attention, nothing less. Exactly how he was giving you his full attention now. The look in his eye was spurring you on, it had to be. You had (obviously) never done anything close to this in your life. You were nervous. But you were sure.

He’s looking at you, back and forth between your eyes; he’s moving slow when he steps in to meet you, as if he might scare an animal. And if it had been anyone else, you think you would be. One of his hands moves to your face, brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers on your cheek; you lean in to the strength and safety of his hand. He leans forward, lips near your ear. “I… I really wanna kiss you. Can I kiss you?” You’re nodding against the pulse of his wrist before any other part of you, mind or body, can catch up.

It’s not like what you thought it would be, when his lips meet yours. There’s no cataclysmic shift of the earth. There’s not even what you would think is a spark. But he moves in closer to you and brings his other hand up so he’s cradling your face as he kisses you and all you can think is safe. You feel safe to lean into him and explore what it means to be held like this, to be kissed like this. You feel safe to reach one hand into his hair, slip your fingers through the thickness of it, safe to reach the other up to his chest.

You’ve never done this before so you’re not sure if you’re doing it right but you can’t even waste a thought on caring really. Your body feels heavy and your skin is only getting hotter by the minute. Your breathing is heavy and when you shift a bit to move closer, you can feel the outline of Daichi’s cock through his sweatpants. It has heat slicing through your belly and you groan. He releases a sharp short gasp in response as he takes a small step backward.

“Am I going too fast?” The simplicity of the question or the sincerity with which he asks it (maybe that he asks it at all) makes something trip in your chest.

“No, you’re not. Daichi… I–I really like you. I think I’ve liked you since I first met you. And I’ve only liked you the more I’ve been around you. If this was to go… farther tonight, I think I would be happy with that.” You’re looking up at him, watching the emotions flow across his face, the slightly crooked bridge of his nose (you’ll have to ask him if that’s from volleyball later), the dark brown and copper of his eyes (they’ve slightly darkened since he kissed you but haven’t gotten any less soft), his slightly parted lips. And god, if you didn’t know better you’d say there was a careful adoration there in his face. Even if nothing else about this lasted, to see that look on someone’s face and know it was for you? That feeling would always be priceless.

“I’d be happy too. I think we’re a little bit dumb, aren’t we?” He says it with that smile, the one that’s bright and soft and makes your heart beat faster. You nod. You have missed a lot of cues apparently. But so has he. And maybe it was better that way. Maybe all of that was leading up to this. You take his hand and squeeze it. “You want to take this to the room?” He’s leading you before the question fully leaves his mouth but you’re glad for it. He shuts the lights off in the living room as you go and even that small action has you adding yet another thing to the list of things about him that you love.

His room feels much larger than you would have thought; the four poster bed takes up a lot of the room and if you weren’t getting a little nervous about what was going to happen, you’d be fantasizing about what it would be like to sleep in it. Just sleep in it. The quilt alone looks like the softest thing ever and he’s got more than one pillow there; it seems like a silly thing to notice but you do. But then he’s kissing you again and you don’t notice much more of anything else. You’re turning, backing up slowly until the backs of your legs bump against his bed. He’s pulling the quilt down and you’re laying back and then it hits you: this is actually happening.

Part of you is hesitant; you’d just had a conversation that night about how after all this time, you’d never been intimate in this way. Sure, you’ve read a lot. Watched television shows and movies. You’ve used your hands, used a vibrator. But there was only your physical needs to spur on feelings of pleasure. Now, there was a whole other person. A person you liked beyond lust. Of course, maybe that’s all this was. But this feels like something else entirely. That’s what has you holding your arms out to him and pulling him into his own bed, pulling him on top of you. He’s supporting his weight on one arm and the other is cupping your cheek and it has you nearly sick with an emotion you don’t want to explore right now.

“I’m gonna take your pants off now, okay?” You nod and he slides them down off your hips along with your underwear. You feel the cold rush of air hit your cunt and you realize with a new kind of embarrassment that you’re wet. Daichi realizes at the same time you do, places a steadying hand on your knees to prevent you from closing them. He shakes his head, barely a movement before he’s backing up, kneeling over you again, continuing his attention down the planes of your stomach. Until he stops and you feel his hot breath against you down there and you’re shuddering out a breath. “You can tell me to stop any time,” he reminds you, his voice rumbling into you. You shake your head near frantic, comb your fingers through his hair. Heaven nor hell could stop him now, least of all you. Even if you wanted him to stop which you most definitely don’t.

When he puts his mouth to the wet mess of your sex, you think you could get used to this, with him. It’s a completely new sensation, the way he practically drinks from you. Your voice pitches high and drawn out as he licks; the sounds he’s making are almost pornographic and god, you can’t believe that it’s it feels like this. He shifts, pulling you closer; you help him, canting your hips softly into his face.

“Right there, yeessss.” Your words come out garbled, difficult to even get out. He keeps going, focuses on your clit. You can feel something rising inside of you, something tightening. You recognize the feeling, only now it feels a hundred times more intense. It’s coiling in you like a new spring, the sparks of it sending the nerves in between your legs on fire. You’re gripping into his hair as he keeps going, delving his tongue into your cunt, sucking, moaning into you. It’s right there, right there, right there, you can feel it. “Oh, shit. I think–think I’mgonna–” He’s nodding into you, pressing your legs apart and there…

Your orgasm snaps, leaves you panting, arching your back and rutting your hips continually into his face. You want to close your legs but he won’t let you, keeps going to wring the last of it from you and by the time he’s finished, every little touch has you twitching. Everything feels overly sensitive. He huffs a soft breath, places a kiss to the flesh of your inner thigh. You can hardly process anything except to think that all of this feels like instinct. Instinctual when you thought maybe you wouldn’t know what to do, how to act. It makes you feel self-confident, even as you lay stretched out on Daichi’s bed, watching him with half-lidded eyes as you murmur “Daichi, I need–I need more. I need you inside me.” The look in his eyes… you wish you had a way to bottle that look.

A kiss to your mouth. “Are you sure you want to do this?” A kiss to your jaw, your neck. You turn so he has access to more skin, more of you. “We can stop now. We can stop at any point. This is for you, this one’s for you.” He’s pulling your shirt over your head and you’re gone to the world once more. A low whistling breath wheezes from his chest when he sees your breasts. He kisses again from your neck down over your sternum. He kneads one breast with a hand, laves his tongue over the pebbled nipple of the other. You back arches into him. Shit. Your hands never made you feel like this. There’s a split second where you can’t believe Daichi wants you but you push it away because that is the only doubt in your head and heart right now. And it has no right to be here. You’re turning back to him, nuzzling into his own neck. You nip softly at his ear, experimenting. The soft groan that falls from his mouth has you smiling. Exhale. You’ve got this.

“Yeah, Daichi, I want this. I want you.” He’s staring at you and it rushes in on a pinpoint that maybe he was having the same doubts. You can’t wrap your head around it. You smile at him and mirror his placement with your hand on his cheek. “Daichi,” you whisper it, speaking this thing, this good thing into existence. “You big dope. I want you. I want it to be you.” It’s like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders; he’s reaching for the drawer in his nightstand for a condom and the lines above his brows have smoothed into concentration. “Can I… can I watch?” His eyes snap back to you and you’re afraid you’ve said something wrong until you can see in the low light how his pupils are blown.

“Baby, if you say anything more like that I might honestly have a difficult time making this last.” Now it’s your turn to flush and you’re a little embarrassed but it’s a good kind you think, a shy kind. Daichi takes his own shirt off, tosses it to the side of the bed. He stands, slides the gray sweatpants past his hips and down his legs. Oh god, he isn’t wearing any underwear. You watch with rapt attention as he crawls back onto the bed and faces you on his knees. You don’t have any experience with dicks in real life but you know his is pretty. On the shorter side, you think, but thick and curved slightly to the left, up to his stomach. It’s leaking precum. There’s no other way to describe it really. Pretty. You giggle a little bit, can’t help yourself. You’re shocked by it so you clap a hand over your mouth; you never would have thought you would think that. Daichi looks at you, somehow only good-natured confusion on his face, questioning.

“God, Daichi, I’m so sorry I just–it’s pretty. I just never thought I’d say that.” You’re waiting for him to laugh in response but he doesn’t, just keeps staring at you as he tears the condom wrapper with his teeth and proceeds to smooth it over his cock. And then he’s crawling back up the bed to you and you squeak as he takes your chin in hand, turning your face from side to side. You’re not afraid or alarmed in the least at his change in his demeanor. It has your pussy flooding again; you squeeze your thighs together, trying to gain any sort of friction. Daichi caresses a thumb across your chin, your bottom lip.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” He’s too fucking good at that, you think. Too good at asking you questions that shouldn’t be shocking but somehow are. Questions that make you warm and fuzzy on the inside. Questions that are at once both deeply gratifying and somehow terrifying because in yet another instance, if it was anyone but Daichi you would be questioning the motivation behind them. But all you can sense is attraction and affection and it nearly wrecks you.

“I’d like to think I am. But it feels nice to have someone else tell me,” you respond quietly. His brows screw together just a bit, the same emotion written on his features as when he asked you about who taught you that you were an imposition. It stays there when he leans down and seals his lips over yours; you can taste yourself there still. He positions himself above you, readjusting until he’s propped on one elbow, the other hand ghosting over your breast, squeezing the soft flesh of your sides and hips. You reach down between the two of you and take his cock in your hand. “I think I’m ready,” you say, watching with a certain satisfaction as his nostrils flare and he lets out the smallest of groans as you pump once, twice.

“Okay,” he whispers. You guide him to your cunt, guide him inside you. You can feel your face scrunch as you feel the pressure before he slips in fully. “Just breathe,” he says near your ear. He’s rubbing swirling circles into your sides as he waits for you to acclimate. You draw his mouth to yours and kiss, nodding against him to start moving. When he does, you can’t help the whine that spills from your mouth, the responding groan from his throat spurring you to roll your hips into him. The friction nearly sends you out of your mind.

“Fuck, keep going, Daichi please.” It’s the only cue he needs, the only motivation. He grips your hip with one hand and begins moving at a faster pace. Now you understand. All the books you’ve read, the shows you’ve watched. This is what they were talking about. Because the way his thick cock moves against your walls, the way your cunt pulls at him as if it’s the only thing you need to survive, you get it.

The angle of his thrusts has you clenching around him. You don’t know if the intoxication of the moment comes from it being your first time, if it comes from doing this with him, or because he just feels so fucking good. You wrap your arms around him, trying and succeeding to bring him closer. You would swallow him whole in that moment if you could. You want this to go on forever. Not just the sex. But this… this intimacy. With him. You try to slow the thought process down a little; maybe you don’t need to think about it too much.

“Hey,” he says it softly, his own breathing starting to come choppy from his throat. “Are you here with me?” The way he seems to sense where you’re at in your head before you do leaves you feeling seen in a way you haven’t experienced before. You lock in on his eyes and nod; you can feel another orgasm building but it doesn’t feel like the first. This one feels like a building wave, larger, broader, less acute than the one before. He can see it on your face and based on the erratic snap of his hips, you think he’s close too. You’re cresting the wave; he’s reaching a hand up to lock with yours as he leans in to whisper “You’re safe. You can relax. Let go, baby, I’ve got you.” You feel it then, the peak, and it’s like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff and you’ve just jumped off into deep blue water. It rushes over you, from the hand gripping Daichi’s, through your chest, into the hand clutching his back, to where your cunt keeps a velvet grip around his cock. You keep the rolling rhythm of your hips going, wanting him to come with you and when he does, he moans into your neck.

“I’m here with you, I’m here,” you repeat to him. It’s like a prayer, but better because it’s said at the altar of something much more sacred than anything you’ve ever offered one to before. His cock leaps inside of you and an image sears into your mind’s eye of getting fucked with no barrier between the two of you. You hope there will be opportunities for that in the future.

“Are you okay?” His voice is muffled by your neck; the weight of him is comforting and you can only nod. The two of you lay entwined for some time before he makes any attempt at moving, before he even slips out. You hiss a little at the new ache but welcome his kiss of apology. When he stands it takes all your resolve to let go of his hand. He roams out the door only long enough to come back and shut the door, a warm cloth in hand. Condom already discarded, he slips his sweats back on then turns his attention to you once more.

The warm cloth feels incredibly good as he wipes away any remnants of your arousal and when he’s finished, he tosses it to the hamper in the corner. Your smirk at him when he gathers your clothes and readies to hand them back to you.

“I don’t think the previous owner would be too appreciative if I put those back on right now,” you say with a satiated laugh. You can see the thought process roll through the gears in his brain before he throws them to the ground and rummages through a dresser drawer until he finds an old oversized shirt. “That’s better.” When you slip it on, it falls to just above your knees and smells faintly of him. He crawls into bed and the way he shuffles around on his side until he’s comfortable sparks affection anew in your chest. When he finally settles, he watches you in the way he does. You can see the question just out of reach, the question he has the decency not to ask. So you give him the answer. “Daichi, that was… you made me feel so safe and good. I’d… I’d like to do more of that in the future.”

He smirks on a soft huff of breath as he grabs your hand and squeezes. “I think that can be arranged.” You smile shyly at him (as if the man wasn’t just your first sexual experience) before turning on your side.

You curl your back into his stomach, reveling in the feeling of his arm around you. Outside the snow is falling harder, covering the city in a blanket of white. It’s cold but his breath against your neck is warm, calming and drawing you under into sleep as the cadence becomes slower and deeper. It would be easy to say that you don’t know what the night’s events mean for you or for him. It would be easy to say that this was a one night stand. It would be easy for anyone else but you. Because you? You know, you know, that this is just the beginning.

You don’t know it now but in the morning, you’ll wake to your face tucked in the space between his throat and his chest, your hands curled under your chin. The storm will have come in harder but you will be warmer than you’ve been in a long time. He’ll open his eyes to look at you, reach a hand out to touch your face. You’ll not say a word because you don’t want to break the silence and neither will he. You’ll give in once more to the pull of sleep, huddled close to him. The day can wait just a little longer; because you now have all the time in the world.

[elysianslove]

HI SAL yes agreed please do dick analysis for all the fandoms- due to horny brain i think you should start with haikyuu/the captains OR aot OR sk8 JAHAHSJ I CANT EVEN DECIDE DJFJ THIS WASNT HELPFUL LMAOO SORRY -🐰

it’s way too late in the am rn and i can’t sleep so i’m doing a dick analysis for the haikyuu captains. thank you very much.��

this is probably hella unrealistic but ,,, that’s the beauty of fanfiction <3 

other versions: haikyuu aces dick analysis, haikyuu setters dick analysis, haikyuu middle blockers dick analysis, jjk dick analysis 

HAIKYUU CAPTAINS DICK ANALYSIS 

daichi sawamura 

AH FAT DICK. it’s like heavy, oh my god he’s hung. he’s not so long, probably somewhere around 6.5 inches, give or take, but my god he’s THICK. relatively veiny all along, and the tip is a very dark pink when he’s properly hard. he’s not completely clean shaven, but very neatly trimmed for you, cause he’s a sucker for deep throating. it curves a little to the right too, and always, always, fills you up so well. cums so much, like lowkey got breeder balls. so much that as he fucks it into you it just trickles out.

oikawa tōru 

this the one i was excited for. prettiest fucking dick oh my god. it’s long, not so thick, but proportionately so. like around 6.8 inches i guess? but it’s literally mouthwatering type of gorgeous. curves to the right, not too prominent veins along the shaft, a pretty pink tip, i’m sorry but his balls are pretty too. everything about this man is gorgeous and no i’m not biased shut up. he’s exquisite at his technique; the way he rolls his hips and grinds into you? magical. and he’s clean shaven too, just cause he actually prefers it that way. also when he’s very sensitive his cock twitches and bobs so much it’s so cute. 

kuroo tetsurō

BIG DICK <3 BIG BIG BIG DICK <3 he’s like 7.1 or 7.2 inches and it’s. wow. very veiny, long, thick. he’s got it all. tip is a pretty pink naturally, so it gets like an angry red when he’s hard and drooling. it doesn’t really curve, maybe like tilts slightly to the left, otherwise just bobs straight up against his stomach. you will, you will, feel him in your stomach, regardless, just cause the way he fucks you makes sure of that. i can’t decide if he’d be clean shaven or not tbh. on one hand, he hates the messiness and wants to shave it all off, on the other he couldn’t care less. either way, he’ll do whatever you want :) 

bokuto kōtarō

the fattest cock of them all. it’s so fucking thick you can never get your fingers fully around it, like they never touch when you stroke and fist at his cock. he’s a good 7 inches, maybe 6.9, no maybe 7.1. listen. idk he just has a big fucking cock, so fat it makes you cry even if he’s spent hours fingering and eating you out. the stretch of the head only hurts. you’re braindead by the time he sinks in fully. it’s so veiny too, a tip that’s a light, pale pink, with the fattest, heaviest balls. fucking breeds you on god. doesn’t shave, i’m sorry. i mean unless you actively tell him, he really won’t. 

kita shinsuke 

does shin have a fat cock or a skinny long cock, that is the question. i’m settling on kita is a good 6.6 inches, and relatively thick. needs a good stretch before you can take him, that’s for sureee, but his dick is so pretty you deadass wanna just nuzzle it. he also always smells and tastes hella good. leave it up to kita to set The standards for men. it’s not that veiny honestly, with a tip that is a mauve ish color and the shaft a golden tan. his dick is so heavy in your hands though, and the outline when he’s in sweats <333 clean shaven, absolutely. it’s for him, for you, for the better of society. gorgeous dick for a gorgeous man 

ushijima wakatoshi 

hello monster fucking community <3 please there’s no way he’s anything less than like 8.5 or even, dare i say, 8.7 inches. he’s just so big, and he’s absolutely clueless about it too. god, he’s so fucking BIG y’all. massive cock. it takes hours if you wanna properly prep for him, but honestly, no matter what, you’ll be crying and heaving as he sinks into you, because he just stretches you open so much that it feels like you’re being split open. half of his cock is in and you feel him in your throat. he just. ruins you. bright pink head, veiny as fuck, and neatly trimmed! heavy fucking balls, so big and heavy. 

terushima yuuji 

i’ve seen people say he’s got a pierced dick and honestly? not beyond him. i have to say, yuuji’s probably got a big dick, longer than it is thick, at maybe 7 inches, like on the dot. it’s curved, but like sticks up straight, you get me? so like missionary is literally heaven with him, especially when he gets all into it and literally just bends you in half. he’s actually clean shaven, like completely, but it’s for the aesthetic, as he likes to say. pretty, pretty, pretty pink tip. he knows what he’s doing but only enough to make it feel good. the potential is strong with this one. 

futakuchi kenji

skinny dick but long. like he’s a 7.1maybe a 7.2 inches, but his girth isn’t too much. will he be bruising your fucking cervix though? possibly. prepping you involves fingering you as deep as he can, and you don’t understand why until you’re taking him and there’s more, more. more. it’s honestly kinda a pretty dick too, with a golden tip that flushes slightly, barely red, when he’s hard, and one or two veins along the shaft. he’s clean shaven because otherwise he just disgusts himself. nice balls, what more can i say? they sit nice in your hand you know. 

anyways— im. idk what to tell y’all. maybe i should apologize. 

[something-fanfiction-ie]

The Years

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.

A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!

___

“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.

“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”

A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.

Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.

When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.

“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”

Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.

“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.

“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.

“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”

“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.

“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”

“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.

“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.

“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.

“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”

It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.

“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”

It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.

The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.

Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.

The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.

It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.

The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.

No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.

“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.

“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.

You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.

But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.

“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.

“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.

“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.

Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.

“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”

From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.

“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.

“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”

“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.

“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.

“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.

“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.

“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.

“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.

“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.

“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.

“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.

“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.

“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.

“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.

“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.

The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.

“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.

“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.

You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.

“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.

“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.

You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.

When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.

He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.

“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.

As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.

By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.

Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.

“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.

Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.

Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.

“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.

“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.

“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.

The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.

It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.

Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.

As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.

“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.

“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.

“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.

Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.

The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.

His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.

“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.

He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?

You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.

Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.

Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.

Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.

“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.

The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.

“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.

“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.

“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.

“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.

Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.

His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”

If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.

“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”

You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.

“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.

“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.

On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.

By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.

“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.

Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.

“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.

“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.

The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.

“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.

“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.

He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.

Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.

He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.

You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.

“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.

But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.

“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.

“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.

He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.

There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.

Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.

Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.

“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.

His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.

“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.

Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.

Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.

When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.

The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.

That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.

He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.

From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.

His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.

“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.

In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.

Oh boy, were you in trouble.

[murphallo]

hot take: a lot of sylki antis/mlm fetishizers/biphobes who hate/shit on sylvie after the finale never actually liked her (because loki loved her) and were waiting for her to slip so they could shit on her freely

disclaimers: i have no problem with lokius, peaceful lokius shippers, or even people who hate romantic sylki with their entire being. i don’t care. if you’re just shipping your ship and minding your business, or not being hypocritical on main, this post isn’t directed at you 💕

but for a whole decade, we have loved loki through his MANY mistakes because we understand he’s a sympathetic character who’s been through shit anyone would react negatively to, and y’all can’t extend that same understanding to sylvie? the only person she loves in the world, her one good memory, not only flipped on her and stood in the way of her life’s mission, but he wanted to take an option where she’d spend eons dooming innocents to the same fate she’d had all those years ago? loki wanted to stop her from killing the person who KNEW her history and wrote her entire life to be as devastating as it was for his own purposes. and after all that, she sent loki away with a kiss because in the angriest moment of her existence, the one thing she couldn’t do was hurt him. i’m not saying what she did was right, but it was understandable and honestly, natural. and certain people on this app can easily excuse mobius exploiting loki’s biggest insecurity to psychologically torture him for god knows how long, or love loki despite you know…. all of the everything, but can’t forgive sylvie acting out of anger and betrayal one time.

additional disclaimer: i’m not saying loki was particularly in the wrong either, both options they were given were dogshit. sylvie was shortsighted and didn’t see the dangers of completing her mission. loki was given an option that would let him be with sylvie literally forever and wanted that so bad that he didn’t acknowledge that he was signing her up for the worst fate she could meet. all i’m saying is, the fact that people are immediately taking this opportunity to shit on sylvie is very very telling of where their biases lie.

ps. i saw someone post something basically insinuating that loki was assaulted by sylvie’s kiss because she didn’t expressly ask if she could in that moment and if you’re that person maybe don’t watch anything else with a romantic plot lol you’re gonna have a bad time