#equal and opposite here I guess!

[alittlelessalone]

Okay. I know they aren’t exactly the same, but someone else please confirm they hear it too. I heard the start of Wu Bie from TGCF and thought it was Pandora Hearts music for a second. Like listen to this!

(Skip ahead to around 30 seconds for where it really sounds similar)

[ford-ye-fiji]

being your father’s favorite child is a burden not often talked about

[isan0rt]

Hey crazy thought but maybe Kairi wouldn’t seem like such a ‘wasted character’ if this fandom would quit taking everything of narrative and thematic significance about her and assigning it to Riku constantly all the time.

(The evaluation of the ways in which Kairi and Riku are important and vital foils for each other got kind of long so it’s under a read more; to be clear, I love Riku so much, and it makes me super mad to see his narrative also being undermined by this trend, this is not a hate post.)

Kairi and Riku serve opposing but complementary purposes in the narrative. Kairi represents light, but she also represents the stagnation of the light. Many characters who are associated with just light are also associated with stagnation and a resistance to change. Hoder and Eraqus are particularly extreme examples, but Aqua exemplifies this as well. They want a predictable world where things stay as they ‘should’ be and they are threatened by changes to the status quo. Eraqus in particular refuses to change anything about himself for 60 years, only taking on students at the last minute because he’s running out of time. Kairi, like Eraqus and Hoder and Aqua, stands as the bold, sharp light that casts others into shadow.

However, the other side of “resistance to change” means that Kairi represents restoration. She is able to restore Sora in KH1, pull them home in KH2, and hold Sora back from death itself in KH3, because her power is one of restoration. She holds so tightly to their old way of being that she can stop death itself in the interest of not changing too drastically. But she is unable to move forward on her own, because she fears change too much. She wants to chase after the boys when they keep leaving her behind…but she isn’t able to keep up, because what she actually wants is for them not to run at all. 

She wants to go home, and restore their previous status quo. This desire is consistent in her for the entire series; this is also why she is unable to let go of her childhood crush for Sora, even though he’s obviously not the person she wants him to be anymore. For Sora, Kairi is the rock, she is the home that will always be there, he feels that she is the secure dock he can always return to after the storm. He relies on her not changing, which reinforces her fear of change. Lea is similar, and they can bond in KH3 over both their mutual desires to restore a prior, idealized status quo where their friends were reliably there and not at risk of disappearing on them or running away from them or changing.

Riku on the other hand embodies transformation. He represents change to the status quo, growth and development and a new way to be. Too much change is as much of a problem as too little; Kairi in KH1 sees Riku wants change, and it scares her, and he does in fact go too far. At the same time, she’s the catalyst for Riku’s desire to change their circumstances. Kairi’s arrival at the islands in the meteor shower incites Riku to dream of going to the outside world. This too is a tension that creates an anxiety in Kairi - in a way, she can see herself as to blame for Riku’s desire to change. But Riku was always going to change, because that’s who he is. He is radical change, the change that cuts away restrictive dogma so that the world can advance. Riku drives Sora to also want to grow and change, to excel and challenge himself. Sora wants to be like Riku, whose strength and internal drive he admires.

Ultimately Kairi and Riku are in BALANCE with each other. Ironically, while Kairi is themed as ‘the sea,’ her narrative purpose is to be steady as the earth. Riku’s name is ‘the earth,’ but he is changing and dangerous as the sea. They are one another’s reflections in the narrative. Kairi’s arc is about learning to let go and move forward, even though it scares her. Riku’s entire arc is about finding balance, not throwing away the comfort of the past, that inoculates him from falling too far the way Baldr and Xehanort do. Riku can drive Kairi to join them by giving her a Keyblade too. Kairi can pull Riku back from fleeing from them by seeing him even under Ansem’s face. He is able to be in contrast with Kairi in a healthy way, in a way that honors her fears while also refusing stagnation. They have to work TOGETHER to find Sora, because they are one another’s narrative and thematic opposites. Kairi is too stagnant on her own, and Riku too volatile. Sora is the healthy middle between them, the center-point that can bind the light and the dark TOGETHER for one purpose. 

Kairi is narratively and thematically important to Kingdom Hearts. She represents something, and trying to take the things that reinforce her narrative importance to the story (her representation of the light, her narrative purpose of ‘disruption’ in her arrival via the meteor shower, her position as the one who grounds Sora in opposition to Riku’s position as the one who drives Sora to push himself and achieve more) not only undermines her story, it undermines Riku’s.

[102ki]

was constantly on the brink of making a blue hair and pronouns joke about the audience of hozier and only realised On the train home when looking at my reflection in the window how ourple my hair still is

[laufeysvalentine]

cat's out the bag

spencer reid x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ spencer reid x secret relationship!reader — in which members of the bau go out for dinner and see spencer with... a girl?

early seasons spencer, twilight & ariana grande references for some reason, reader sits on spencer's lap, disgustingly cute

word count ༄ 2k

nora’s notes ༄ my first spencer reid fic + a new writing style. this may be a complete disaster 💖

Spencer’s in the middle of finishing up a reread of a Sherlock Holmes installment and packing up from work when the clomping of two pairs of shoes ruins his peace. 

“Morning, genius,” one of the voices says, bubbling with sweetness in just a way he knows exactly who it is without having to look at the two shadows that enter his vision, blocking the light. 

“It’s almost evening. In fact, it’s been six hours, thirty-four minutes, and eighteen seconds since morning,” he mutters, flicking the page over. “Now, move. I can’t see.” 

“No, you’ve been in a funk all week and we’re going to get you out of it,” Garcia sing-songs, taking his book hostage. She looks the opposite of how he has the past week–put together, with a perfect outfit, as always. “I don’t care why you’ve been a grump, only that you come out with us tonight, yeah? You don’t have to drink, just hang out.” 

He looks up, reluctance prodding his expression. Garcia and Derek are side-to-side, arms crossed, looking down at him. Yeah, nope. “I’m busy tonight.” 

“With?” Derek raises an eyebrow. “You got a date, pretty boy?” 

“I’m meeting with a friend who’s been out-of-town.” He responds, reaching out for his book. “Okay, Dad?” 

“Seriously, Reid?” JJ chimes in from behind the other two. “Come out with us.” 

“I’m busy. I would say I was sorry, but I’m not. 1 in 8 people apologize at least twenty times a day. 43% of people regularly apologize during a situation in which they are not at fault–” Spencer begins as he turns away from them to collect his things. 

“Yeah, that’s enough. Getting Hotch to come was hard enough, I’ll call it quits while I still can. See you tomorrow, Reid.” JJ turns on her heel and walks back towards her own desk.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow too.” He nods and passes them on his way out. “Bye.” 

Garcia looks at Derek, her eyebrows cocked. “Well, then.” 

“Guess it’ll just be you and me, baby girl,” he teases, heading to walk back to his desk. 

“Just the way I like it.” Her heels nip the back of his shoes as she chases after him. “Even though JJ and Hotch will be there too.” 

“They can watch.” 

— 

“When’s Hotch getting here?” JJ drums her fingers on the side of her glass, tilting her head up. The restaurant they’re in is loud and crowded, the three of them squished into a booth clearly meant for two, all having glasses of what the waitress described as “fun, flirty drinks” cradled in their hands. Garcia’s stirring some kind of electric pink concoction with an equally pink umbrella when a throat clears. 

“I’m here,” their boss says, sliding into the booth next to them. His eyebrows furrow–well, maybe that’s just his resting face, they can’t really tell–as he glances at the drink in Derek’s hands. “What exactly is it that you’re drinking?” 

He shrugs, taking a sip. “I think it’s called the Orange Surprise. Not that there’s anything surprising about it–or this place, at all, really. I mean, look around. And this just tastes like–” 

“Wait,” Garcia interrupts, eyes on something behind him. She whips off her glasses, rubbing them furiously on her shirt before her jaw drops and she begins to stand in her seat. “Is it just me or is that Reid over there with a girl? A gorgeous girl at that?” 

As soon as she finishes her sentence, three more heads whip around to her line of vision, shock pulling at their faces. Even Hotch looks mildly surprised. 

From their vantage point in the restaurant, they can see Spencer’s side profile as he stares at a girl across the table from him–you, looking magnificent, even in the dingy, uneven bar lighting. Your elbows are on the table, face cradled by your hands as you stare up at him. The love shining out of your face--lips parted with intrigue as you listen, eyes soft, cheeks relaxed--is sickeningly lovely. And even at first glance, a table full of profilers can tell just how much you care about him–enough to reach across the table and smooth down an untidy lapel, enough to listen raptly as the words begin spilling out of him in a ramble, to smile at him with a kind of learned tenderness you only get from knowing someone with incredible intimacy and just time. 

“Oh. My. God.” She tries to scooch past Derek, who catches her by the hips. 

“Wait, baby girl. I wanna see how this plays out before we interrupt. What if that’s a cousin? I don't know, a friend?” He says, stalling her. She reluctantly sits back in her seat, neck craned. 

“They’re touching,” JJ reports, a gasp falling from her lips. “Reid hates touch.” 

“We can see, JJ,” Derek quips, though his jaw is just as dropped. 

As soon as the boy started rambling, everyone at the table expected you to get up and walk away, or look as bored as they felt listening to him. But you stayed. Your eyes are on his, nodding every so often. They watch as one of your hands wanders to Spencer’s arm, rubbing a circle on the fabric of his button-down. He looks so relaxed in your presence, unlike they’ve ever seen him before. What the hell is happening?

“Please let me go over,” Penelope begs. “I need to know. I need to meet her!” 

“I second it,” JJ echoes. “They’re worse than the two of you, and I didn’t think that was possible with Genius over there.” 

“No, we still don’t know if they’re long-term or first date or what. What if we barge in and they’re just friends?” Derek almost sounds convincing. Almost.

“That is not friendly behavior,” Hotch chimes in. Their attention lasers in on the table in front of them, shock freezing their limbs. You’re pouting, saying something to Spencer–he’s melting in your hands, nodding so much it looks like his head could just screw off any moment now, and you stand. Are you going to leave? Break up? What’s happening? 

You wander to his side of the table, and, in the most disgusting display of PDA ever, you lower yourself onto his lap, hands knitting themselves together behind his neck. And Spencer is sickeningly okay with it, hands traveling to your hips, massaging your pelvic bones as you say something to him. A blush pinches his cheeks–no, it’s like a virus, spreading all over his face as he buries himself into your neck. 

Garcia thinks she heard Derek gag. A giggle escapes you, loud enough to hear from their booth. From across the restaurant.  

“Okay, we’re going over,” he announces, standing from the table. “Even just to break this up. I’m nauseous.” 

“Copy that,” JJ contorts her face, following the group towards them. 

Garcia’s practically skipping ahead, expression both accusatory and giddy as she reaches your table. Her hands slam onto the wood, eyes wide as Spencer rears back, immediately on alert. “Alright, Reid, explain yourself now.” 

“Less dramatic, princess,” Derek whispers to her, nudging her shoulder. 

You cock your head at the quartet. They can all tell you’re mentally scanning them, just as much as they’re doing to you. It takes you a couple moments–and Spencer’s groan as he returns to his previous position nestled on your shoulder–before it clicks who they are. 

You jump up, abandoning Spencer with an embellished gasp. “You must be the BAU!” 

“Minus a few members, yes.” Hotch nods at you, looking the exact picture of what your boyfriend had described. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t be able to peer past the perfectly neutral, bordering on pleasant mask he’s pasted on his face. But that twitch of his lips gives it all away: he knew nothing about you, and mentally his jaw is on the floor. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“You too…Aaron Hotchner?” You guess, biting your lip. You’re so purely adorable that half of the team is already in love with you. 

He nods, and you smile at all of them. The happiness you’re wearing is so genuine that JJ whispers to Derek, “I think I just got blinded.”

“And you’re Penelope Garcia?” You turn towards her, eyebrows raised. She reaches her hand to shake yours, but you bypass it entirely and go in to wrap your arms firmly around her. She hugs you back, eyes blown up at shock.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’ve been keeping her from me this whole time!” She accuses Spencer as you pull back, greeting the other members as well. You hear the surprise in JJ’s laugh as you do the same for her, hug firm and leaking with kindness. 

“I haven’t,” he responds matter-of-factly. He’s resisting the urge to pull you back into him, annoyed at all of his colleagues for stealing your time together. Instead, he shifts to the edge of the seat, legs opening wide in a manspread that would be absolutely disgusting on anyone else. But it fits him. Alarmingly well. “I talk about Y/N all the time.” 

“Y/N’s your girlfriend?” Garcia’s tone borders on a shriek, but in a restaurant as loud as this one, no one notices. “I thought she was your cousin!” 

“Ew, what?” you crinkle your nose just as Spencer echoes your words–“That’s disgusting. But scarily more common than you’d think.” 

“I-I mean, you do talk about her a lot. You’ve just never mentioned her in relation to you before.” She sputters out. Everyone can see the cogs turning in her brain, trying to piece the puzzle together. “I love you already.” 

“He said he wouldn’t talk about us at work,” you agree, letting his arm pull you between his legs, one hand falling to your thigh. “Do you guys want to sit down? Now that the cat’s out of the bag, we should catch up.” 

“Um, yes, absolutely!” Garcia throws her hands into the air, scooching the two of you over so she can fit into the booth. “Now, tell me absolutely everything.” 

You shrug, snug on your boyfriend’s lap while also leaning in to look at her. Both of you sparkle in a way he absolutely adores. “I saw him, I liked him, I wanted him, and I got him.” 

“In the wise words of Ariana Grande,” she nods, words wise and expression stoic.

“Are you an Arianator?” You gasp, hand collapsing onto her hand in excitement. She takes that cue to launch into something Spencer does not at all understand. The other members of the BAU shuffle into the other side of the booth, Derek closest to Spencer and JJ at the end. He almost lets out a laugh seeing Hotch sitting so uncomfortably between them, shoulders drawn up tight as to conserve room, face equally as scrunched.

He opens his mouth to comment, but your fingers interrupt, drumming on his shoulder in excitement. You recap your conversation in a voice no one else can quite hear but him. He nods as you ramble, the opposite of what you were doing for him a few minutes ago. In some ways, you're just like him, but you're also complete opposites in so many others. While he usually hates physical touch, you lean into it, fingers tracing patterns onto his broad back while the sun peeks out of the sky, showering him in a glow that makes him downright angelic. Your other hand creeps to his as you watch him brush his teeth–you love seeing his toothbrush next to yours, there’s something so incredibly romantic about it that you can't describe, something that intertwines the two of you. He’s yours, you’re his. 

He presses his lips to your hair, then behind your hair, inhaling you. You’re perfect for him. So, so perfect. 

“Wow, pretty boy.” Derek shakes his head. “Just when I thought I’d seen everything. I didn’t think you’d be so into PDA.” 

“She was away for a whole week. What do you expect me to do?” He huffs, arm wrapping around your waist. Yes, he still hates handshakes, but for you–well, he is absolutely pathetic. And after having you leave for work? Not seeing you for seven whole days? He would get down on his knees and beg you to hold his hand. To pay him an ounce of attention. God, he is unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you. 

“Greet her like a normal person. Or stay in your apartment,” Morgan advises, only half-joking. 

But Spencer’s no longer paying a shred of attention to anything his co-worker is saying. He’s too absorbed in you, laugh unabashed and tinkling as you discuss something animatedly with JJ and Garcia. You fit so well in his little family, he thinks. You might as well just stay with him forever. 

masterlist

tags @lydiasfalling @cowboylikemac - didn't tag anyone from my other list because it's a diff fandom!

[catboybiologist]

I absolutely agree that transmasculine people face different problems than transfeminine people, hmm I wonder if we could come up with a word to specifically describe the transphobic issues that transmasculine people have to deal with, perhaps something including the word trans and, like, a greek syllable meaning masculine, or something

surely such a word would be seen as a good thing to have at ones disposal to talk about one's own oppression

hmmm

This is a bad faith ask, but I guess it's as good a place as any for a ramble. I hope it's coherent.

First off, I feel like my blog is getting lumped into a lot of other blogs as a "trans woman who talks about transmisogyny" and points are being ascribed to me that I never really said. I respect them a lot, and I follow them. But I'm an individual person with my own nuanced opinions on the topic.

Also, yes, this will largely be a nitpicky terminology post. It's a a rambling societal analysis from someone with a STEM background. Don't call this "infighting". To be blunt, if you get riled up by this, that's on you.

Here's what you need to understand: transmisogyny is not called transmisogyny because it's transphobia affecting trans women. Transmisogyny is called transmisogyny because it's the manifestation of existing misogynist biases and talking points, applied to trans women. Creating the term "transandrophobia" as an equal foil to it is implying existing, pervasive androphobia against cis men.

Per the original use of the terminology (I'm literally just poorly summarizing Whipping Girl here, which is basically transfeminism for dummies), transmisogyny exists because of two related, but distinct deeply ingrained biases of misogyny:

One, the societal belief that male/man and female/woman are separate categories with a MASSIVE, uncrossable rift between them, and are intrinsically different as completely separate biological or theological categories (this is termed oppositional sexism)

Two, with respect to these two categories, men and masculinity are superior to women and femininity.

Transgender women assault both of these points to create a massive reflexive disgust reaction in a misogynist. One, they break down the barriers between men and women. And two, they provide examples of somebody "choosing" womanhood, and being uplifted and empowered by it. The first point is something we share with trans men, but let's hold on to that point for a moment.

As I've said before, transmisogyny then manifests as a property of this reaction. The second point leaves people scrambling to think of "alternate explanations" for a trans woman's transition- leading to false accusations about why trans women want access to women's spaces, that trans women are fetishists, and that trans women want to "cheat" in women's sports.

Does this mean that trans men don't have unique struggles, or that we shouldn't fight for transmasc's struggles? Of course not. However, these struggles are not an emergent property of a societal hatred of men.

Instead, a lot of what trans men face feels to me like repackaged misogyny. THIS IS NOT SAYING THAT TRANS MEN ARE NOT MEN, OR THAT ALL TRANSMASCS ARE ACTUALLY WOMEN. This is an acknowledgement that misogyny is a system of biases that aims to create a patriarchy. Those biases have the goal of male superiority, and oftentimes, hit trans men as well- because a system that needs to tell men that they're "biologically superior" is one that can never allow an "inferior" person to put themselves in that category.

Eg: trans men are often forced into positions where they're treated as women, often violently. This is to maintain the separation of men and women, and to assert men as superior. Trans men are affected by reproductive health regulations written to suppress women, sexual violence intended to suppress women, etc.

Some of these mechanisms often also affect trans women. Particularly sexual violence and sexualization.

And some don't. Some are genuinely unique to transmascs. And if you want to use the word "transandrophobia" to describe all of them in one go, then sure I guess. It's not a huge deal, but you have to acknowledge that we're talking about something almost entirely different at that point. But, if you're portraying trans androphobia as the genuine one-to-one equal of transmisogyny, with the same roots and same usage, you're also saying that societal androphobia exists. Which, to be frank, it does not- as a societal force. I'm sure you have a cousin or a great aunt that genuinely believes in some kind of matriarchal state, but c'mon. They're not mainstream in any political movement, no, not even TERFs.

Talking about transmisogyny isn't about erasing trans men's issues, it's about recognizing the misogynist roots of transphobia to more accurately hold fast against it, find solidarity with other feminists, and restructure communication to people outside of our movements.

And yeah, I am going to uplift trans men, and talk about issues affecting them. Saying I don't is ascribing a lot of things to me that I'm not saying.

This is the dignified part of my response. I'm typing my more irate, hysterical thoughts here, but I genuinely hope this opens some respectful discussion.

Part 2 of this post will be what I'm mad about, and what my frustration is.

[heavenlybodies333]

First Impressions Are a Bitch -S.R

Spencer Reid x Hotch’s daughter!reader

The moment you stepped into the BAU you felt eyes. They didn’t linger too long. You were used to being in the orbit of the most elite profilers in the country, after all—growing up with Aaron Hotchner for a father meant you learned early how to ignore the low hum of being constantly assessed.

Everything still feels eerily in order—except you. Four years away at Columbia had changed you. You were older now. Smarter. Less eager to please and more eager to challenge.

“Just a quick debrief,” he said earlier, as he led you into the BAU conference room. “Ten minutes, tops.”

Ten minutes, your ass. You’ve been sitting here for almost forty. “Paperwork. Then we’ll go,” Hotch tells you. The edge in his voice warns not to argue. You roll your eyes and sigh loudly on purpose.

“Fine.”

You push yourself to your feet and wander toward the murder board out of boredom.

You sat perched on the conference table now, bored as hell, flipping a pen between your fingers while your dad spoke to his team. You caught pieces—victimology, escalation pattern, geographic profile. Nothing you hadn’t heard a hundred times before over breakfast growing up. Still, you leaned back, letting your eyes wander over the crime scene photos on the board. Then something struck you.

All four victims—different backgrounds, different cities, different times—but their hands. They were posed identically.

Not randomly. Deliberately. You stood up, walking toward the board with your arms crossed, the gears turning.

You tilted your head. “These hand placements… that's the domestic violence signal, isn’t it? All four victims—same thing. The fingertips pressed into the opposite palm, hidden, subtle.”

Rossi, who’d been gathering his things, paused. His gaze followed yours to the board.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, stepping closer. “You’re right. That changes everything. It’s not just random targeting—this is symbolic. Personal.” He gave you smile—part impressed, part stunned—and disappeared out the door to find your father.

“Wait, wait, wait,” a voice cut in behind you, dry and irritatingly patronizing. “That’s a huge leap. You can’t just infer intent from coincidence.”

You turned, already annoyed before you fully faced him. Dr. Spencer Reid. Of course. He’d been recruited while you were away at college. Standing with arms crossed, brows furrowed like you’d just offended a stack of peer-reviewed journals.

You turn slowly, already annoyed. “Excuse me?”

“Correlation does not equal causation. Just because their hands are similar doesn’t mean the unsub has a domestic abuse background. That’s textbook confirmation bias. It’s a rookie assumption.”

You blink. “I didn’t realize I was talking to someone who’s never been wrong in his life.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Statistically, I’m wrong 8.7% of the time. But I prefer logic over emotionally driven guesses.”

“Oh my god,” you scoff turning, finally facing him. His mouth was already half open to speak, but you beat him to it.

“I mean, if we’re going to start off by insulting each other’s intelligence, at least let me get my turn.”

He looked stunned by your bluntness, blinking a few more times as he surveyed you. And then… you saw it. The moment it clicked. The slight parting of his lips, the tightening around his eyes as his gaze bounced from your features to the door your father had just exited through.

“You’re Hotch’s daughter,” he said, voice flat.

You gave a single, dry laugh. “Jesus Christ, this guy.”

His eyebrows climbed. “No offense, but I didn’t expect—”

“Oh, don’t say it. Don’t even finish that sentence,” you warn. “Do you have a PhD in mansplaining, or do they just hand those out with the degrees at Caltech?”

You stand your ground, arms folded across your chest, eyes narrowed like you’re sizing him up. You are.

He clears his throat, and the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying to decide whether to smile or keep frowning. “That’s not what I meant,” he mutters, voice slightly lower now. “I just didn’t think Hotch had kids who—”

“Had opinions?” you cut in again, voice razor-sharp.

“—talk like you,” he finishes carefully, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

You arch an eyebrow. “If you mean talk like I wasn’t raised in a Quantico textbook, you’re right. I was raised in a house, like a normal human.”

Spencer exhales through his nose, pinching the bridge of it like he’s in pain. “I’m not trying to fight with you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You’re inferring psychological trauma from a gesture.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize profiling also meant talking down to every woman who noticed something before you did,” you muttered, walking past him to grab your phone from the table.

“Wait—I didn’t mean—” he started, following you.

You turned back toward him with an eye roll. “No, no, go ahead, Doc. Tell me again why I'm wrong, so you can walk it back in five minutes when my theory turns out to be right.”

He looked…frustrated. You couldn’t tell if it was with himself or you. Maybe both.

“And for the record,” you added, pausing in the doorway, “I’ve read your thesis on eidetic memory and its correlations to trauma. It was good. A little masturbatory, but good.”

His face wears shock so well, goddamn him. After a beat, he clears his throat awkwardly and extends a hand. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

You glance at his hand but don’t take it.

“I think we’re past handshakes.”

Your dad rounded the corner, oblivious. “We’re heading out. Ready?”

You turned, swallowing your racing pulse. “Yep. Let’s go.” But as you walked out of the break room, you glanced back. Spencer was still watching you.

You don’t speak to him again until two days later.

You didn’t plan on seeing him again, but apparently, fate has a sick sense of humor.

Your dad is too buried in casework to drive you home, so he sends Spencer instead—without asking you.

He shows up in that old Volvo like a goddamn librarian who got lost on the way to the archive.

You stand outside the BAU parking lot with your arms crossed.

“Seriously?” you ask as he pulls up.

“Apparently, I’m your ride.”

You open the door with a groan and slide into the passenger seat. The tension between you is immediate and electric.

The car ride is mostly silent—except for the soft hum of NPR.

You glance at him. “Let me guess. You listen to public radio for fun.”

“It’s informative,” he replies without missing a beat.

“You know,” you say, leaning your head against the window, “you really don’t have to talk down to every woman who disagrees with you.”

“I don’t—”

“You do. And I’m not intimidated by your IQ, so maybe try not treating me like a child.”

The tension only gets worse after that.

You keep running into him—at the office, on the phone when he calls your dad, and finally one night when you’re curled up with a book in your dad’s living room. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

Preferably with your thighs.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Oh my god.”

He was so off-limits.

Not just because he was older. Not just because he was your dad’s literal subordinate.

But because he’d made you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time: noticed. Challenged. Seen. Infuriated.

And the worst part? You couldn’t stop replaying it.

Well be careful what you wish for because a few seconds later he walks in, apparently dropping something off for work.

You look up. He freezes.

You're in short shorts and a loose sweater that dips off one shoulder. His eyes flicker there before snapping back up to your face.

“You can put it on the table,” you say, not bothering to move.

He sets the file down slowly, then clears his throat. “Tell your dad I dropped off the case notes.”

You smile. “Will do.”

He turns to go.

Then pauses.

Turns back.

“About the hand positioning,” he says quietly, “you were right.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That must’ve hurt.”

“It did,” he admits. “But I still think you’re incredibly stubborn.”

“Guess it runs in the family.”

There’s a silence thick enough to drown in.

You speak first.

“You always this annoying or is it just around me?”

He steps closer, just slightly.

“I think you bring it out in me.”

His eyes drop to your lips before flicking back up.

You smirk. “Careful, Dr. Reid. You almost sound like you’re flirting.”

He stares at you a second longer. Then turns and leaves without another word.

You should’ve ignored it. You should’ve walked away. But he’d left you with the notes and you weren’t anything but curious. Naturally, you looked. And it looks like Dr. Spence didn’t realize he’d slipped in his own journal accidentally.

You weren’t going to snoop. You really weren’t.

But the second you saw your name scribbled in Spencer Reid’s handwriting—small, neat, and underlined—you couldn’t help it.

Oh if only you’d minded your business. Instead, you skimmed. Then you stopped. Then you read the entire fucking thing.

Subject 18A – Observation Log: Behavioral Notes

Interpersonal behavior suggests innate confidence, possibly learned early via proximity to figures of authority. Uses sarcasm as a primary defense mechanism. Not submissive—challenges hierarchy intentionally. Habitual eye contact, even in conflict. Prone to intellectual baiting.

Unclear whether this is intentional seduction or simply a naturally provocative disposition.

Triggers observed: condescension, dismissal, over-explaining. Response includes lip twitch, physical proximity, and reactive statements.

Hypothesis: She likes to be challenged. She likes resistance. She likes to be overpowered—verbally. Wonder if it extends to other contexts.

Need to stop thinking about this.

Your hand is shaking.

You read that last line again. And again. The slanted scrawl is messier than the rest, like he wrote it fast—like he was already spiraling when he put the pen down.

Need to stop thinking about this.

Your thighs clench. You shouldn't be aroused by this. You shouldn’t.

But now… now you can’t stop thinking about him thinking about you. Not professionally. Not even academically. But… physically. Fantasizing about what you’d let him do.

You’re still standing there—practically vibrating with heat—when the door clicks behind you.

“I thought I left that in my—” Spencer’s voice dies in his throat.

Your back stiffens, but you don’t turn. You hear him step inside. The door closes behind him.

“I…” You swallow. “You wrote about me.”

He doesn’t respond. You turn your head slightly, enough to see him in your periphery. He looks furious. Embarrassed. Breathless.

“I was working through a theory,” he said through clenched teeth. “It wasn’t meant for you to see.”

“No,” you murmured, walking around the corner toward him. “But you wrote it anyway. You thought about it.”

“You’re Hotch’s daughter.”

You laughed under your breath. “That line gets so old.”

“I’m serious,” Spencer snapped, though his voice was barely above a whisper now. His eyes locked with yours, and you could practically feel the war behind them. “This isn’t a game. You reading that was a violation of privacy.”

“Oh, give me a break,” you said, stepping closer, your arms still crossed. “You accidentally left it in a file you handed me in my father’s house. That’s not a violation. You wanted me to see that.”

His jaw ticked. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then enlighten me,” you breathed.

You didn’t mean to step so close. Or maybe you did.

Either way, now you were a breath away from him. The tension coiled between you like a live wire. Your dad was upstairs, probably on the phone with Strauss. But none of that mattered in this moment.

“You think I want to think about you?” he said, quietly. “You think I enjoy imagining the kinds of things I’ve written down, only to wake up disgusted with myself?”

You tilted your head. “You don’t seem very disgusted right now.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I read the whole thing, you know,” you said, a little softer now. “The part where you weren’t sure if I was trying to seduce you… or just naturally provocative.”

His gaze snapped to yours, the heat in it unmistakable now. “And?” he asked tightly. “What’s your conclusion?”

You smiled, slow and unhurried. “I think you’re smarter than that. You already knew the answer.”

Spencer took a shaky breath, looking at the ceiling like it could anchor him.

“You’re off-limits,” he said, like he was trying to remind himself more than you.

You reached up and brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, deliberately slow. His eyes followed the movement like it was a crime scene detail.

“You wrote that I like being overpowered verbally,” you whispered, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips. “Ever wonder if it does extend to other contexts?”

His breath hitched.

“That’s what you wrote,” you added. “So go ahead, Dr. Reid. Test your theory.”

You didn’t have time to prepare for what happened next. His hands were on you—fast, firm, and desperate—pulling you in by the hips until your bodies collided. His mouth crashed into yours like a dam breaking. Everything was raw. Pent-up. Starved.

You moaned into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his curls, tugging hard enough to make him groan. He tasted like coffee and fury and something forbidden.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he rasped, voice hoarse and raw, his forehead pressed to yours.

“No,” you agreed, your hand already sliding down his chest, nails dragging lightly over his shirt. “But you are.”

His hands were still on your hips, trembling slightly. “Fuck.”

“You can stop,” you whispered, fingers ghosting over his belt. “Right now. Tell me to stop, and I will.”

His head dropped to your shoulder with a groan. You slid down to your knees without waiting for a response.

“Jesus Christ—” he muttered, his hands automatically finding the counter behind him, gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind.

You made quick work of his belt and zipper, eyes never leaving his face. His chest was rising and falling fast, pupils blown wide, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt.

You reached into his briefs and freed him, and he hissed through his teeth the moment you wrapped your hand around him.

“You okay, Doctor?” you teased, voice soft and mocking as you stroked him once, slowly. His eyes fluttered shut.

“This is so—fuck—wrong,” he breathed, already unraveling.

You licked a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, watching his knees buckle slightly. His hand flew to your hair but didn’t pull—just held, like he didn’t trust himself to move.

You moved slowly at first, savoring every reaction. Sucking harder with every strained noise he tried to swallow. His control—so absolute in every other part of his life—was fraying. You were undoing him in real time.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, his head tipping back. “You—fuck—you’re…”

He never finished the thought. You hummed around him, and his hips twitched forward just slightly, a low, broken sound escaping him before he could stop it.

And outside, the front door clicked open.

“Sweetheart?” your dad’s voice called from the hallway.

You both froze.

“Shit—” he whispered, pulling back, fast but gentle, tucking himself away with trembling hands while you wiped your mouth and scrambled upright.

Your dad’s voice rang out, muffled by the hall.

Spencer jumped up, grabbing his bag, running a hand through his hair to fix what couldn’t be fixed.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, your mouth still tasting like him.

“Act natural,” you whispered, grinning like sin.

“Hotch’ll kill me,” Spencer muttered.

You stood, leaned in, and whispered in his ear, “Only if you give him a reason to.”

Hotch’s voice cut through the electric silence as he walked around the corner. “I didn’t expect you to still be here, Reid.”

You both turned like you’d been caught with your hands in the cookie jar—or rather, your hands down each other’s pants. You were standing a little too close, the air between you charged enough to short-circuit every wire in the house. Spencer stepped back so fast you thought he might trip.

Hotch raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Instead, he crossed the room, briefcase slung over one shoulder, tie slightly loosened from the day. You offered a quick, guilty smile and stepped toward him just as he opened his arms. You melted into the familiar embrace, the kind of hug that still made you feel like his little girl, even after everything.

“Thanks for dropping off the files,” he said over your shoulder, looking at Spencer.

Spencer straightened, clearing his throat. “Of course. I was just—”

He pulls back, glancing between the two of you.

“You looked into the files, huh?” he says to you, noticing the folder in your hand. “Can’t help yourself.”

You smile. “Guilty.”

“I was thinking we could order something in,” he said casually. “Unless you’re in the mood to cook.”

You shrugged. “Takeout sounds good. Thai?”

His lips twitch like he wants to smile too, but he’s still trying to figure out why Spencer looks like he’s about to pass out. His eyes drift to Reid again. “You hungry?”

Spencer blinked. “What?”

“I said, do you want to stay for dinner?”

Spencer’s eyes met yours—briefly, sharply—and you could see his brain short-circuit behind them.

“Oh—I, uh, I should probably head out,” he said too fast. “We’ll be back in early tomorrow and I still need to—uh—review some geographic patterns on the Kansas case. But thank you. Really.”

You tried not to smirk. He couldn’t even look you in the eye now.

“Suit yourself,” Hotch said, turning back to the kitchen like he hadn’t just unknowingly invited a man to dinner who had written the words she likes to be overpowered in his personal journal about his daughter.

Spencer moved toward the door, quickly and silently. You followed, just enough to stop him as he reached for the handle.

You whispered, “Coward.”

He glanced at you, startled—then aroused, and somehow furious with himself for both.

“I’m not a coward,” he muttered.

“No?” You tilted your head. “Then why are you running away?”

He hesitated, visibly torn. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his hand hovered over the doorknob.

“My restraint isn’t cowardice,” he said finally, voice low and sharp like a promise. “It’s the only thing keeping me from making a very serious mistake.”

You stepped closer, heart pounding so hard it hurt. “Then maybe make it.”

“Good night,” he said, almost like it pained him. And as Spencer made his swift exit, he glanced back one last time—like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Neither could you. But god, you hoped it happened again.

a/n: btw my loves, ALL of my fics that have Hotch’s daughter!reader are not connected unless specified. They all are the same reader idea but not connected in a storyline💋

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[neverendingford]

.

[burymagdalene]

Off the Map - S. Reid x Reader

In a lovingly competitive game of showing you just how mean your teasing really is, Spencer and reader find out some of Spencer's weaknesses as he's explaining yours.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: attemped soft!dom Spencer, he's easily overwhelmed. Munch!Spencer, teasing, you're both a bit sassy, loads of dirty talk, "talking you through it" of sorts, pinv sex, and some early load busting, screw it! wc: 3.3k a/n: I headcanon season 2 Spencer as someone who likes how it feels to be cocky but gets turned on super easily and struggles to deal with that combo. This is an extension of my thought here!

The spring equinox has finally arrived to salve your freezing limbs like an oil to a rusty hinge. The winter was brutal, you almost froze over completely. Somehow you made it, Spencer’s window is wide open as sun dances over his bed while you two lay on completely opposite sides, legs intertwined and slowly moving together.

Spencer is against his headboard, reading through a case file as your head slightly dangles off the end of his bed. Craning your neck a bit to look up through your bent knees you find his eyebrows slightly pinched, the wheels in his head spinning at the unfathomable speed they always do. 

“Are you almost done?”

“Mm.”

“The case? Are you almost done… would you say we can see it from here?” You laugh softly as your blood continues to rush to your head where you lay.

“No. You’re distracting me.”

His words aren’t sharp, he speaks them in an apologetic way, like it's his fault he’s so easily distracted by you. You guess it sort of is.

“How much longerrrr?”

“Hard to tell with these things. Kidnappings but I can’t find a comprehensible link between the different locations they were taken, it’s almost-”

“I’m gonna shower.”

Spencer hums high in his throat as if to say, “good idea!”, and squeezes your knees tightly between his one more time before moving so you can slip off the bed easily.

Padding to his bathroom, you get a thrill of excitement. You really have only ever showered in his bathroom with Spencer. Showering alone for the first time entices you, it really feels like the space is yours to own alongside him.

You want to read the ingredients to every product he owns and look at his shower wall and trace hearts into the steam.

Waiting for the water to heat with your chin in your hand you can’t help the small grin formed on your lips. You just know how particular and neat he is about his space, it's silly but it feels like an honor to be trusted with his shower. 

Once submerged, you get to look around. You love how Spencer smells so having free reign to look over his products has you giddy. 

Though… he has absolutely nothing to write home about. Soap bar, incredibly uninteresting scentless shampoo and conditioner, and an equally unscented body wash that appears to be bought from a farmers market.

Of course, this is exactly what you should’ve expected but makes you groan when you can’t blast Spencer’s smell all over you like a plug-in Febreze air freshener. 

Shower ending quicker than anticipated, you dry off and put on a spare old t-shirt and boxers you stole from Spencer’s dresser before heading to his room. 

“You know,” you begin while walking back into Spencer’s bedroom, “I was excited to smell like you. Use up all your soap. Whole lotta nothing.” You laugh and sit beside him on the bed. Spencer’s eyes still trained on the case file before he sets it down to look at you.

“Hah. You’d be shocked with how many damaging chemicals there are in body washes, hair wash. Especially for women. The sulfates in all that can irritate your skin, make your hair fall out, and even lead to cancer. Actually, did you know that even lung issues can get worse with sulfates by how they can decrease lung function with fragrance and can make asthma conditions worse. So, you should really use cleaner products.” Spencer rambles on while rubbing one of his hands on your hip.

“Hm. I guess. I usually get sulfate free stuff anyway. You have no faith in me.”

“Good. This way you still smell like you after you shower.” 

“Yeah? What do I smell like?”

Spencer lets out a drawn out sigh. Picks up his case file.

“You’re distracting me.” He sing-songs. 

“Wh- hey! No fair, you banished me to shower and said you’d be done after!”

“I did not.”

“You insinuated…”

“Who has the eidetic memory?”

You huff and rest your head against his shoulder. If he doesn’t want to spend his free time with his lovely, beautiful, and perfect partner (his own words) then he should just let you be close to him in silence.

Silence never was either of your specialties.

After probably two minutes, you start getting antsy. You’re watching his fingers trail across the lines on a little map beside him, close enough to smell the nape of his neck. The glasses on the bridge of his nose slide down slightly.

You trail one of your hands “innocently” to his stomach. Rubbing slowly back and forth, one of your pinkies slips underneath the band of his trousers and Spencer stiffens immediately.

“So is this… how is this less distracting?” Spencer grabbed your wrist loosely, not moving you, but applying a pressure that surely tells himself that he is indeed still in control. He’s still trying his best to work.

You giggle and place a kiss on his temple, move your hand away. Spencer sighs out a laugh and bends down to kiss your shoulder in return.

If rubbing his stomach was too teasing, you have to get your hands on him another way. Knowing this was not going to be any less distracting, if not more than rubbing his stomach, you place your hand down to run slowly up and down the expanse of his thigh.

Spencer doesn’t say anything for a moment before looking over at you with his big pleading eyes, the ones you know so well.

“I’m…too…” Spencer trails off before looking down and chuckling.

Everything about him is contagious, you laugh too. 

“What? What? Thigh petting is off limits too?”

“It. Yeah, it turns me on too much.” His cheeks tint pink.

“Ahh. Right. So how can I touch you in a way that doesn’t pull your focus from work?”

“Umm,” Spencer scoots down a bit from where he was leaning against his headrest and puts the file down, “Uh.”

Giggling you trace a fingernail lighting on the sensitive inside of his arm. 

“Here?”

Goosebumps rise on his skin, his head reels.

“Oh, I get it. Here?” 

You lift that same finger to trail lightly at the skin on his throat, to his collarbone.

“Baby…” He scoots his body impossibly closer to you, his side pressed neatly up against yours.

“Or… should I stop?”

“Ugh. No.” He groans at openly admitting you’ve won him over.

Laughing, you lean in to finally kiss him properly. Now more eager than you were, Spencer kisses you back with an unspoken thanks for being able to pry him away from the inevitable eyestrain he would’ve gotten. He recalls a time where he mentioned to you how sometimes after looking at a map for too long he will blink and look away but it’s burnt into the back of his eyelids.

Spencers hard on pokes the side of your hip as he shifts to lay halfway on top of you. Lifting one of his hands to cup the hinge of your jaw, his fingers slightly squeeze, opening your mouth a bit wider for him to move his tongue against yours. Spencer always feels more confident when your mouth is busy not teasing him till the tips of his ears go red.

A moan at the bottom of your throat comes out and you take that as a sign to deepen the kiss, pushing the back of his head till your lips start to feel numb around the edges.

He pulls away briefly, talking against your lips in rushed out breaths.

“You have signs too. You’re not the only one who remembers erogenous zones. I could distract you pretty easily too.” 

Apparently, nobody has ever introduced Spencer to the phrase “it’s not a competition”, but the underlying proposition has a chill going down your spine.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” Spencer mumbles against your lips, biting your bottom lip softy as a parting gift before he pulls away. “Here. Let's try something.”

With an equally lazy and cocky smile stretched on his pretty lips, Spencer rises and scoots himself across the bed to find where the map he has folded in his case file rests. Pulling it out he hands the map over to where you still lay.

“Spence- huh?” You chuckle, not sure what his motive is.

Spencer starts moving towards you again, “You go look where I circled Milford, Ohio and you read to me where some of those connected lines are going to. Try it.” Spencer laughs softly at your skeptical gaze as you lay flat against his pillow and slowly raise the map over your gaze.

“Um. The red line looks like it’s connecting to… well, Kentucky… Covington?” You hadn’t picked up a physical map since you were a kid probably, you rely too heavily on your gps to continue this game.

While you’re slowly looking at all the drawings Spencer has made over this map in the past, his circles and dots all work together to display the intricate makings of his mind, how his ever impressive thought process manifests itself, it’s beautiful in a way. 

It’s… he’s kissing your inner thigh now?

“Spence!” You giggle, “what?”

“Go on, tell me what else you see.”

You get it now. He’s pressing soft slow kisses on each of your bare thighs now. The initial giggles you had slowly dissipate as realization sets in that you’re getting a taste of your own poison. 

“Uh-um,” you stutter, clearing your throat, “you have a really, pre-precise hand drawn circle-” you gasp at a nip at your thigh at your attempt at humor.

“I know you can do better than that.”

Spencer's tongue laving on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs has gotten you more frazzled than you expected. It feels mean, you only used your hands on him earlier, you wouldn’t be so rude to blatantly-

“Hips up?” Spencer whispers against your skin. His wet kisses are left cooling against your flesh as a warm swipe of wind enters his window and caresses you alongside him.

Wordless, your hips raise, you don’t really care the ways in which you have his mouth against you as long as you get there eventually. Despite popular belief you can be patient.

With Spencers boxers off, and your pussy on display now he takes his fingers and traces the outside of one thigh up and down, each time he trails up he gets closer to where your upper thigh and hip meet.

You remember his snide, you can do better, and refocus your eyes to the map again.

“Shiit… um. Here! Here, you have a red line drawn from Milford up to… C-canada? It’s um, it’s off the map. What does that mean?”

You can feel Spencer's lips smile against the skin of your lower belly while he’s feeling the soft skin of your clit with such a feather light touch it almost feels more intense than direct contact.

“That, my dear, is off the map because earlier you wanted to put your hand under my pants and I was so shocked my pen trailed off. That's what that means.”

Gulping, you let go of the map, it softly flutters to the ground beside you without a sound. With the barricade gone, you and Spencer are making direct eye contact again.

“Oh.”

Your thighs involuntarily tense, wanting to squeeze and hold Spencer in place between where you want him most. Spencer’s fingers spread you open for him to break eye contact with you for a more glimmering wet location on your body.

“Are you sorry?” He mumbles out a prompt so you can end this incredibly taught tension that is about to snap any second.

“I think…it’s harder than I thought, yes I am-”

You could’ve said I think you’ll survive, or not really, but there’s something so perfectly sweet about that funny grin he gets that reads “I actually did it!” All over his face, you have no shame in letting him win.

Before you can even verbalize a punctuation for your apology, Spencer is whimpering and licking a stripe up your pussy, your head falls harshly back against his pillow as you adjust to the swing from light touching to full sensation.

Spencer's too distracted now by his mouthy task so you take it on yourself to reach down and take the glasses off his face for him, he hums against you, still quite mannered even when taking you apart.

With his whole face at your exposal now you are able to grind yourself up and down on his face more eagerly. You and Spencer alike go crazy when he’s eating you out so intensely that his nose is buried into and there’s suspicious glimmering up to his brow bone when he’s done with you.

Totally involved in whatever dynamic today's events created, you want to feed into his clear begging for apologetic sympathy. 

“Don’t, ah, don’t know how you do it. Seeing all those connections- crazy, baby. So smart.”

You’re rewarded with a mix between a whine and grunt against your clit, no doubt that his hidden cheeks are pinking.

Once Spencer begins to take big suctions of your lips and alternates that between smaller suctions against just your clit, any drive to talk in long, legible, sentences flies out the window. You’re so close to coming you can taste it, you’re sure Spencer can too.

You can’t even warn him, not that you need permission, you just reach out to capture his hand in yours so you can squeeze it through the orgasm that is currently sending flashes of light behind your eyelids.

Huffing out a groan, you take a fistful of Spencer’s hair to pull his mouth off of you. 

“Shit that felt good, come here.”

Spencer laughs and crawls up your body to kiss you, his boner kissing your stomach through layers as he does so.

“That felt good?”

“Mm. Want you now.’

He does his usual subconscious small squeak in excitement that you don’t even think he notices and pushes his shirt that you’re wearing up to expose your breasts.

One hand fisting the white fabric, the other rests on one boob as he sucks small marks on your collar and cleavage, never able to fully satisfy his wandering mouth.

“You’re so gorgeous,” a kiss on your neck, “I’m so happy.”

His giddyness is replicated as you pepper his cheeks with kisses, hands finding their way down to his pants again as you pull down the zipper and tug once.

Spencer takes off his pants and underwear with little urgency as you fling your top off to his floor and move to take his button up off as well with trembling fingers.

He snorts lightly, “what’s the rush?”

“D-don’t you want me?” It’s not meant to seem insecure, you kind of wanted it to be bossy and sarcastic, but want has threaded itself so deep into your vocal chords that it just sounds whiny.

“Mhm,” he takes his shirt off and kisses your forehead, you both maneuver down again so he can rest on top of you. Spencer pushes his chin out lightly to tap your forehead, signaling you to lean back against his pillow. “You know that, silly.”

While you begin kissing again, he takes the spare pillow not underneath your head to place it under your hips.

“I’m not lying about before. I also know all the things that make you tick, you like to feel the pressure against your lower back while I’m in you because it releases the tension you store there, makes the pressure of me inside you more intense.”

Spencer giggles at your dazed expression as he reaches for a condom from his bedside table, 

“You just revert that stress you keep there to your thighs when you squeeze them around me.”

He’s starting to get breathless, his teasing works just as well against himself, the most delicious double ended sword.

A few tantalizing swipes against your clit and entrance and Spencer is pushing his head into you, pulling his lips in to keep his moans from drowning out yours. Which inevitably will happen, and he always gets embarrassed, but right now he has the strength to hold them back.

Your toes curl where they’re pressed against his sides, he’s taking his sweet time stretching you out around him. Which, he knows you die for as well.

“Ah. Always feel so good. Can’t- ahem,” he presses his chest flat against yours, changes topic, “you love when I take you slow because you like when I hold back for us both, b-because you can’t.”

Fuck?

“Spence-” You whimper in shock, he’s exceptionally talkative today. Hellbent on proving to you that he is indeed obsessed over what your biology has learned to want the most.

You can see the way his lips tremble as he’s talking and fucking you slowly, though. His talking you through it has bitten him in the ass, he’s forgotten how much he loves dirty talk that even his own words are breaking him apart.

Voicing the stuff that turns you on is arousing him incredibly. Not something he really accounted for as he feels that familiar sensation in his stomach. 

That’s surely nothing?

Spencer has picked up his speed now, driven by how your whines are building off of each other and curses are falling from your lips.

“If- If I let you be in control all the time-, Jesus… you’d uh.” He pauses his sentence with a loud whine, the thought of what he’s saying making the heat inside him pulsate in a painful way. His tummy is turning at such speeds that it can barely keep up with his words. 

“You’d be like a…bunny- uh jack rabbit. Jesus, I can’t.” His whines crescendo, sealing off this throat to hinder his own sweet talking.

You’re not even sure what’s happening, what’s going on inside his head that has him smashing his face into your neck to cum as he trembles on top of you.

He dirty talked you so hard he couldn’t even take it.

“M’ so sorry.” He’s whimpering against the skin of your neck, hips still moving against you slowly, pulling out everything he has to give you.

Head spinning at how fucking hot this is, you reach one hand down to rub your clit in fast circles as the other one pets the back of Spencers head soothingly. 

Unabashedly moaning loud now, you throb around his sensitive dick while you touch yourself.

“Spence, you’re a piece of work-”

You can’t help but notice your legs digging into his sides, the merit behind his observations remaining strong. 

“Baby- touch me, wanna cum.” You plead to him, Spencer pulls his head from your neck, whipping himself into action.

Still inside, he quickly pushes your hand away to take its place, he’s murmuring god god god as his humiliation and striving to make you cum hard meld in his brain.

When you cum for the second time, Spencer sucks in air sharply between his teeth as your twitching against him pushes him into complete overstimulation. He stays put though, watching the bliss in your face through half-lidded eyes is the biggest reason to take a bit of pain. 

Eventually he pulls out, once you’re dragging him in for a long kiss.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He laughs in between kisses at himself.

“Spencer, you’re so sexy. Such a sweet thing.”

He groans, tugs you on top of him while he’s flat on his back. You push his messied hair off his forehead in tender passes, you’re sure he can feel all your love in the way your nails caress his scalp.

“Mr. talk the talk-”

“Stop!” He laughs anyway. “I’ve never finished so fast.”

“And you’re calling me the jack rabbit!”

[yan-randomfandom]

Yandere!Soundwave x GN!Human!Reader x Yandere!Cassettes

summary; the casettes hunt you until their boss gets what he wants. [also 'cause they're equally as obsessed with you hehe]

a/n; welcome to a sad first attempt of a chase scene OH MAN I AM CHALLENGED!!! i read it too much 🫩 btw this is NOT realistic lawddd forget about physics

— 📼

You are going to fucking piss your pants.

Soundwave isn't here — you took your chance. By the Gods, you actually let yourself believe the Cassettes would leave you the hell alone. You thought they'd understand; you thought they were different. In fact, at some point, you foolishly hoped they'd help you escape...

Look where that assumption got you. Now you're being hunted down inside the Nemesis. Who would have guessed who they'd stay loyal to! You're a fragging idiot!

Heart beating miles per second. Sweat beads dripping off your skin despite the harsh cold. Eyes frantically darting in every direction.

All of that, and it's deadly quiet.

Until it's not.

The low sound of metal scraping together violates your ears.

... You don't stick around to find out which Recordicon it is.

Run. Run. Desperate stomps of your feet speed across the floor, jumping and dodging over every little thing in your way. If there’s anything to thank on this godforsaken ship, it’s that the gaps and holes are big enough for you to squeeze through. Too small for even the smallest Cybertronians.

"Shit, shit, shit," you mutter over your breathless lips, legs burning in pain. The goggles around your neck bounce restlessly against your chest. You brace yourself for the very obvious dead end ahead.

Then—heavy metallic thuds echo in the upper section. The vent, you recognize. You falter and slow your pace.

Slugfest crashes down at the end of the hall, the impact shaking the floor and forcing you to stumble. You flinch at the thunderous roar tearing from his dentae.

"Human!" he growls, his head lowering in intimidation, tail carefully whipping left and right, "no leave!"

Slugfest? You've already dealt with Squawktalk, Glit, and hell, even Enemy. They're locked up somewhere... Did Soundwave eject everyone?

You turn around — crap.

"Heeey, Frenzy," you wheeze, a crooked smile forming as you raise your hands in surrender. The said bot is already cracking his servos as we speak. What's he doing that for?! Not like you can land a single punch on any of them! "Look. Can we please talk about this?"

Frenzy shrugs carelessly, taking a step forward. "Sweetspark, we could. Bet it'd be a whole lot easier if you stopped runnin', eh?"

"You know I—"

Abruptly, you and Frenzy stumble in a jump.

"Don't ignore Slugfest!" the cassette behind you shrieks as he pounds relentlessly, "Slugfest always forgotten! Human stay!"

"Argh! Slug! Ya gotta stop havin' tantrums in bad tim—!"

Before Frenzy can recover, you turn your heel and sprint straight toward Slugfest. It doesn't take another second for the former to catch up, however.

"I'm sorry, Slug," you cry out, trying to ignore Frenzy's rapid footsteps, "you're such a good mech! Soundwave thinks so too! Look, he's behind you right now!"

He pauses. As you predicted, he fell for it.

Slugfest deliberately turns around, a confused "Soundwave?" escaping him as he faces nothing but a wall.

You slide under the massive bot and just hope for the best.

"Soundwave not here!" Slugfest snarls, turning and slamming Frenzy into the ground.

"Get yer paws off of me! Where's the human?!" Frenzy yells, shoving Slugfest back as he desperately scans the room. Then his optics lock onto the open vent in the ceiling. "Good going, Slug. Now I've gotta fix up your mess."

Several sharp, irritated clanks echo as Frenzy hauls himself up toward the vent. Releasing an equally annoyed exvent, Slugfest turns around and runs in the opposite direction.

Your heart pounds against your ear. This sector is a bust — noted. You adjust your position cautiously across Slug's metal scales. Good thing the back part of his metal’s too thick for him to really feel you.

Once you reach the ship’s main passageway, you briskly slip off Slugfest’s bulk, his heavy thuds masking your soft footsteps.

You peek in two different directions. Both clear.

... Where in the absolute fuck are you supposed to go? In hindsight, you already know you're going to get caught—you've come up with like two lame excuses for this whole chase. Nice to know you're stupid enough to try escaping anyway. Heck, you even tried memorizing the path, but seeing it in real time under pressure easily made you lose it.

"There they are!"

Your head snaps to the right. Rumble and two other flying cassettes hot on his trail. Alright then. At least you've decided.

You bolt.

Adrenaline rushes through your limbs as you sprint down the hall. There’s no way they can get to you without hurting you, right? If there’s one thing you do know, it’s that they wouldn’t go so far as to severely injure you.

... Although. You've been wrong once; you can be wrong again.

"Leave me alone, damn it!" you yelp, staggering over your own frenzied feet. Pull it together!

"You know we can't do dat! Just come back! Don't wanna use rumbles on ya!"

For a moment, you want to smile. You probably would if you weren't so out of breath right now. Rumble's not allowed to use his pile drivers within the Nemesis.

Something tugs you under your arms.

Next thing you know, your feet are off the ground.

You turn your head upward, meeting Ratbat's yellow optics as he flutters his wings. "Ratbat. Let. Me go."

He only tilts his head. Damn it. He's just too cute to get mad at. Those big yellow eyes that look like they’ve seen a ghost, not in fear, but in genuine delight.

"Starscream's already ahead of us," a faint voice mutters in the distance, barely covered by the other cassettes' footsteps. You and Ratbat follow the sound of a door sliding open, chased by the scrambling of harsh winds.

Oh, shit. Wait a second. You rotate your hand and pat Ratbat's claws as best you can. "Okay, Ratbat. You got me. You can put me down now... sorry."

The gentle affection seems to have worked as he dives down and lets you go, offering a chirp. You smile, and it brightens him even more. "Good Rat. Uh, Bat."

And then you position Ratbat—he just let you do that for some reason—in front of you.

"Eukh!" Series of grunts burst from Rumble, Ratbat, and somehow Buzzsaw, who got caught in their trample by Rumble's flailing servo. Luckily enough, Frenzy finally gets his ass out of the vent, crashing ungracefully into their pile of thrashing, cursing heap of limbs.

By the time a single bot pushes themself up, you’re already gone.

Ravage shows up in your sight. As he trots, he intensely eyes the wide open entrance behind you. Wind whipping your clothes. Goggles protecting your eyes. How your feet are so close to the edge. Your chest heaving with frantic breaths. Watching as your lips curl.

You meet his optics.

With a smile, you throw yourself from the ship.

...

...

... What the frag. (You hate to admit it, but their way of cursing is unironically rubbing off on you now.)

Everything's jittering but you manage to slip perfectly into one of the gaps in Thundercracker's structure.

"What was that?" the blue jet says, voice loud around his form. You freeze your entire body.

"What was what?" replies Skywarp from behind him.

"Ugh. Must have a loose wire again. Remind me to remind Knockout."

"Remind me to remind you," Skywarp snickers as he drifts closer to Thundercracker. Closer to where you're hiding. "Hey. Isn't that—"

A loud metal collision. You watch under your goggles as Rumble lands butt-first on top of Skywarp, the jet slipping out of your view from the sudden change of movement. Apparently, that wasn't the only one—another sharp clang rings out, this time on the very jet you're riding.

Thundercracker's baffled voice goes off in the distance, but you're way too focused on the way your legs are dangling over the tall heights. You tighten your grip on his edges, trying to breathe correctly, don't panic—don't panic—

Giant metal fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you up onto the jet’s surface. You stumble and steady your core, glancing up at Frenzy's expression. And in the most gentle way possible, his servos tighten around your skin.

He looks sad—much more than you thought he would.

"D'ya really want to leave us that much?"

You frown. Before you can muster an answer, a sudden jolt shakes Thundercracker. Your feet trip over themselves, but Frenzy has half the spark to balance you down—only to slip, break his grip, and fall off the jet with a shout.

"Frenzy!" you can't help but call out, sighing in relief when one of the flying cassettes hurries to save him.

Your heart leaps to your throat. Shit. Shit. What now?

You look up, eyes narrowing. The cassettes circle above you in the sky like a kettle of vultures waiting for their prey to die—or, in this case, get tired and give up.

"What do you glitches think you're doing?!" Skywarp shouts, frustrated, flying over to Laserbeak and purposefully bumping into him. Said bird lets out a shriek of annoyance. "Soundwave has to put you on a better leash—I swear—"

"Human."

You jolt from Thundercracker's voice.

"Hi, TC," you say casually, although the winds make it hard to hear you.

There's a pause before he replies. "Soundwave will never let you go."

...

A sigh escapes you. "...I know—HAHRK!"

You're taken again, your arms and legs dangling helplessly as Laserbeak grips you with his claws.

But it hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Oh scrap, it seriously does—his metal is pressing against your skin too much. Almost as if he's desperate. "Laserbeak, it hurts—!"

Like a command, he flips you over and lands you on his back. The pain subsides drastically—but it lingers. That shit's going to bruise. You grunt in pain, your chest heaving as you try to recover quickly.

You lean over the edge and glance down. Ratbat and Buzzsaw glide beneath you, following close to Laserbeak. You look deeper—you're so, so close to the ground, and you only noticed it now. You're hovering at the height of a rainforest’s shortest tree.

All you have to do is get to Buzzsaw. Once you do, you can always handle an injury or two if it gets you close enough to jump off fast—then hide in the thick cover of trees and brush.

Oh, no. You're having hope. Hope to finally escape them.

"Thanks, LB," you mutter at the same time you slip off him.

Ratbat squeals as you land on top of him, and even more when you hold onto him tightly. Yeah, not falling now, not when you're so close to freedom—

You leap onto Buzzsaw—

He screeches. Quickly, you peek over the edge, so close— just jump off—THERE!

Somewhere around your descent, you unceremoniously pull off your goggles. Not even sure if it was a good idea, but the thought of them digging into your eyes disturbed you enough to care.

...

Leaves and vines cushions your fall until—

You force your eyes open.

A red glow stands out in the sunlight. The familiar visor watches you, unwavering, as you sit on the palm of his hand. It's always been hard to figure out what he wants—what his expression truly is—and how angry he is. He hunches closer, his towering form restricted by the trees and tangled branches around you.

Soundwave only stares.

While Ravage perches on his shoulder, somehow more expressive than he is. Curious, furious.

You huff. Okay, fine, you give up. Your whole body hurts anyway.

—

so you see guys it's never a good idea to wing an escape plan when you're literally in the air

[winwintea]

that's okay

PAIRING ↬ academic rival!na jaemin x ace!female reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, academic rivals to lovers au, college au, fake dating au, jaemin = campus playboy, drunk decisions, art museum date, plushies because i want a plushie, jaemin is kinda whipped fr

SUMMARY ↬ you're determined to outshine your academic rival na jaemin, the campus heartthrob infamous for his frivolous reputation. but when a few too many drinks suddenly ropes you into a fake dating scheme with jaemin, you realize that there's much more to him than his playboy persona. can two opposites navigate a connection that’s anything but fake?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lotties-readings !! grinding this fic in a day was so fun. the 3 am brain creativity actually carried this time too. hope i did him justice 😭😭 SHOUTOUT TO THE ASEXUAL COMMUNITY I LOVE YALL <33 THIS ONE'S FOR YOU !!!!

PLAYLIST ↬ cooler than me - mike posner, anti-romantic - txt, are you satisfied? - marina, that's okay - d.o.

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?

Na Jaemin. The Playboy. He’s probably slept with half of the school and the rumors are on and off with him. The college’s infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the ‘hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!’ ideology. For some, it was oddly endearing. For you? Maddening. Because Na Jaemin wasn’t just a playboy. He was your rival. Jaemin just had this certain charm to him that attracted the masses. Everyone, including your friends, had had a crush on him at one point in their lives. Everyone except you. Despite his supposedly carefree attitude, he always ranked #1. And you? Stuck perpetually at #2, clawing at his heels, only for him to breeze past like it was nothing. If it were anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t care so much. But no—it had to be him.

You swore to steer clear of him. No parties, no flirtations, and certainly no personal involvement. That resolve lasted until one ill-advised college party, where Jaemin, drunk and absurdly charismatic, roped you into the lead role of his most ridiculous performance yet: his fake significant other. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Jaemin, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love.  “Just go with it,” he’d said. You hadn’t thought it would last beyond that night.

You were wrong.

You suppose it’s partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene, you’re an outcast. An outcast with false modesty to trick people’s curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.

“Remind me again why I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner.” you say, glaring as Jaemin hands you a pastry. “The party doesn’t start until 10PM tonight!” 

“Here you go, love. Be careful, it’s hot!” he says, completely ignoring your question. He resumes walking, hands in his pockets, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, resuming your slow stroll in the garden of a nearby art museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question.

“I know it’s hot,” you mutter, taking the pastry anyway. He’s insufferable. Even now, you can tell he’s doing this for show, making a big deal out of playing the doting boyfriend for the strangers milling about the museum garden. “Do you ever actually answer questions, or is that too much to ask?”

“Oh, I answer,” he breezily responds, unfolding a crumpled checklist from his coat pocket. “I’m just selective about when. Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too.”

“No thank you.”

Straightening the lapels of his gray coat, Jaemin fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself. “Now, do you want to check out the sculptures before we head to the main exhibit?”

The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You’ve seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you’re seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You’ve got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you’d get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones. 

But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Jaemin’s brilliant mind (not that you’d ever give him the credit for it) are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too. 

Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you’d be having fun now.

“Jaemin, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other. At the very least.”

He grins, entirely unbothered by your irritation. “Relax, Y/N. We’re supposed to look like we’re having fun. Couples don’t bicker this much in public, you know.”

“Maybe because real couples actually like each other.”

“And yet,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Here we are. The picture of romance.” Ah. He’s right, damn it.

“I only lowered my guard because these people don’t know us, stupid… Let’s get inside already!”

Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There’s no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.

You grit your teeth but let him guide you down a quieter path, away from the crowds. It’s all part of the act, you remind yourself. Just one day of playing along, and people will stop speculating about your personal life. Totally worth it.

Right?

Inside the museum, the tension eases slightly. The museum is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses. There’s so much to see that you’d frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.

You have to admit, Jaemin chose the perfect dating spot. You’re not sure if it was based on your own preferences. Surely not. But you find yourself not minding it suddenly.

“Picture!” he announces, pulling you close before you can protest.

Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Jaemin presses his face closer to yours.

“Oh, this is a good one, I’m definitely posting it. You look so in love.”

“I’m in love with this work, that’s it.” you say flatly, staring at the painting behind him.

“Uh-uh. That works for me too.” Jaemin replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don’t even bother looking.

“At least you’re a natural, Jaemin.”

“What, in faking an expression? How are you so sure?”

You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don’t lose Jaemin, looking for his hand to take hold of. You’ve already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…

To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, “There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do.”

Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Jaemin, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. You were instructed to watch them if you’re having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. Advice from him no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it’s too late telling your brain to forget what it’s been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomachs at the sight of them?

While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.

That’s it, except for Jaemin, who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you’re alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.

In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside. As Jaemin turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbs your reaction to the touch of his warm hands. 

And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.

“You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let’s get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too.” 

“It’s okay I can do it myself.” You back away from Jaemin, running to take care of it.

And that’s when you realize it.

Pretending to be Jaemin’s partner might be the biggest mistake of your life.

Because it’s starting to feel a little too real.

When you exit the bathroom, Jaemin is waiting for you outside, arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. The two of you continue your museum date as normal, nothing out of the ordinary happening other than Jaemin just being Jaemin. 

When lunchtime rolls around, Jaemin takes you into the museum café, refusing to let you pay for anything even though he bought the museum tickets as well. Struggle as much as you want, Jaemin was pretty stubborn.

You and Jaemin sit across from each other, nursing cups of hot chocolate. The quiet buzz of conversation around you blends with the faint classical music playing overhead, the calmness contrasting your otherwise chaotic day.

You’re still nursing your wounded pride (and scraped hands) from earlier. Jaemin’s fussing had been embarrassing, sure, but also... oddly touching. It’s been messing with your head ever since.

“You’re being quiet,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. He stirs his drink and watches you with another unreadable expression. “Not complaining. Unusual for you.”

“Just tired,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze. “This whole thing is exhausting.”

“Yeah?” He leans back, “What part? The fake dating, or me?”

“Both.”

His laugh is soft, almost self-deprecating. “Fair.”

A moment passes, and you realize he’s studying you. Not with his usual playful smirk, but something more serious. It’s unsettling and scary, like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You know,” he starts, voice quieter now, “you’ve always hated me.”

Your head snaps up. “What? I don’t—”

“Don’t lie. I noticed.” he cuts in, but there’s no malice in his tone. “It’s fine. I get it. I mean, I’m Na Jaemin, right? The playboy. The guy who’s ‘probably slept with half the school.’” He uses his fingers to air quote the phrase, lips forming a bitter smile. “That’s what people say, isn’t it?”

You feel a pang of guilt. It’s exactly what you’ve always thought, always assumed about him.

He continues, eyes fixed on his drink. “Funny thing is, that wasn’t true at first. I wasn’t like this in high school. Sure, I was flirty, but it was harmless, y’know? Then one day, someone started a rumor about me. Said I hooked up with some senior at a party.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t true, but people believed it. And once the rumors started, they didn’t stop. Girls came up to me and I just... didn’t say no.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. “Why didn’t you?”

“Why not?” His smile not breaking, “They already thought I was that guy. And honestly? It was easier to play the part than fight it. People liked the idea of me being the ‘fun, no-strings-attached’ guy. I became what they wanted.”

You’re quiet, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. All this time, you’d judged him without really knowing him. And now, sitting across from him, you realize how wrong you’d been.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“For what?”

“For... hating you, I guess. I just—” You hesitate, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, searching for the right words. “I’ve never liked the whole ‘playboy’ thing. It feels... shallow. And I don’t understand how people can be so casual about it.”

Jaemin’s gaze softens. “That’s because it’s not your thing. And that’s okay.”

Your eyes lit up with shock. You definitely weren’t expecting Jaemin to be this receptive towards your criticisms of him. “I guess I’ve always judged people like you because I don’t... get it. Sex and dating just seem so complicated and messy. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Jaemin tilts his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You’re ace, right?”

You nod, surprised he remembered. He must’ve heard it somewhere, you barely told anyone except for your close friends. Others just assumed, which was fine by you.

“That’s... honestly kind of cool,” he says, leaning forward. “I mean it. You don’t have to deal with all this shit. Expectations, drama, people using you for what they want. You just... are. I envy that.”

“You do?” The idea feels absurd. Jaemin, envying you?

“Yeah.” He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “I’ve spent so much time being what other people expect. Sometimes I don’t even know who I really am. But you? You’re just you. That’s... rare.”

His words catch you off guard, leaving a strange ache in your chest. You wonder if he’s just been hiding behind a mask this whole time. Who really was the Na Jaemin sitting right in front of you right now? “Well,” you say softly, “I think you’re more than what people say about you.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Careful, Y/N. That almost sounded like a compliment. You’re supposed to hate me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you shoot back, but there’s no hostility in your tone.

For the first time, you see him for who he really is. Not Na Jaemin, the playboy, your rival… but just... Jaemin. And maybe, just maybe, you don’t hate him as much as you thought.

When the two of you finished your museum exploration, you found yourselves in the gift shop. The aisles were packed with trinkets, books, and stuffed animals, the kind of things that were charming but utterly unnecessary and overly expensive. You didn’t plan on buying anything, but Jaemin insisted he wanted to pick up something for a friend.

Shivering slightly, you rubbed your arms, trying to warm up in the chill from the air conditioning blowing down from the vent above.

“Cold?” Jaemin asked, his sharp eyes catching your sudden movement.

“Oh, just the A/C,” you replied quickly, waving him off, but you couldn’t stop the flush creeping over your cheeks.

“Do you want my coat?” He was already starting to remove his gray jacket, but you held up a hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said hastily. “It’ll be warmer outside.”

Jaemin paused, then smirked. “Aren’t you glad your friends dragged you to that party?” He asked, standing right beside you now, picking up a penguin from the stuffed animal bin. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “Though I’ll admit, this has been... fun. Even if the ‘fake dating’ part threw me for a loop. And yes, he’s super cute. But penguins aren’t my favorite.” 

He raised an eyebrow, eyes burning into you, as he turned the penguin over in his hands. “Who said it was fake?”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard right. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer, just hummed and walked away, leaving you standing there with your arms crossed, frowning after him. What’s he playing at?

Trying to shake off the odd tension, you wandered to another shelf and found yourself staring at a tower of cell phone plushies. Your eyes landed on a bunny plush, adorable, with floppy ears, sparkling blue eyes, and a pink nose. You reached for it, but so did another hand.

“Oops—sorry,” you stammered, looking up to see Jaemin standing beside you again.

“Oh,” he said, his voice light, but his eyes were unreadable.

“I was just—”

“Which one did you want?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

“The bunny,” you admitted, pointing. “But it’s the last one, and if you wanted it—”

Before you could finish, he grabbed it.

“Actually, I did,” he said, pulling out his wallet and heading to the cashier.

You stood there, stunned and a little annoyed. Seriously? He’s that kind of guy?

As you stared forlornly at the remaining plushies: a raccoon, a squirrel, and a cat that weren’t nearly as cute. You sighed. It’s fine. It’s just a toy. But somehow, it still stung.

“Here.”

You turned to see Jaemin dangling the bunny plush in front of you, a playful grin on his face. “You—I thought you wanted it?” you said as you reached out to take it. The plush felt even softer than it looked.

“I did,” he said with a wink. “But I wanted to buy it for you.”

“I—thank you.” You stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling silly but also oddly happy. A big, goofy grin spread across your face as you hugged the bunny to your chest.

Jaemin chuckled softly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you fired back, but your cheeks still burned.

You started to turn away, but Jaemin stopped you with a gentle tug on your sleeve. His expression was different now, serious, almost nervous, as he looked at you.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped. “What is it?”

“This... whole fake dating thing?” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy. That was strange in comparison to his usual confidence. “It wasn’t just about my ex, or shutting people up. I—I’ve been watching you for a while. I mean, not in a creepy way,” he added quickly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I just... I’ve always been interested in you. You’re smart, funny, and you don’t care about impressing anyone. You’re... different. In a good way.”

Oh you weren’t expecting that. You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jaemin, I—”

“I know you have concerns,” he said, cutting you off gently. “About... your sexuality, and what people might think. But I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what the world expects or what people say. I care about you. And I’m not asking you to change or be anything other than yourself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. You didn’t know what to say. You’d spent so long assuming Jaemin was just a shallow playboy, someone who could never understand you. But now, looking into his eyes, you realized how wrong you’d been. Jaemin understood you way too well. Enough to the point where he was hitting all the right points of reassurance in your heart.

“I don’t know if I can be what you’re looking for,” you whispered.

He smiled softly. “You already are.”

For a moment, the world around you faded. The noise of the gift shop, the bustle of other shoppers. It was just you and Jaemin, and the quiet, fragile connection that had grown between you.

Maybe this wasn’t fake after all.

You realized just how much he’d been hiding. Jaemin, the playboy everyone admired, the guy who never seemed to take anything seriously, was opening up to you in a way that was raw, even vulnerable.

“Honestly?” you whispered, clutching the bunny plush to your chest. “I never thought someone like you would understand... someone like me.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “I get that. I probably don’t fit the part, huh? But, Y/N, you’re incredible just as you are. I think it’s amazing that you know what you want and what you don’t want. I wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

You looked down, feeling way too emotional, “So, you really don’t... mind?”

Jaemin shook his head, his smile was gentle. “Not even a little. I’m here because I like you for who you are. You don’t need to be anyone else or change anything about yourself. I’m fully willing to love you. Just like this.”

His words settled over you, as warm and comforting as his coat might have been. The insecurities you’d held about relationships, about your identity, all the ways you feared you might not be enough for someone. Maybe never even find someone at all? They began to melt, replaced by a quiet sense of peace.

“So... if this isn’t fake, does that mean this is... this date is… real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaemin smiled, reaching down to take your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a way that felt so natural it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s as real as you want it to be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring this out together.”

Looking up at him, you felt something you hadn’t quite felt before. This wasn’t about conforming to anyone’s idea of love or romance. It was about connection. And standing there, surrounded by stuffed animals and museum souvenirs, you felt like you’d found something rare.

You squeezed his hand, a small smile breaking across your face. “Alright, Jaemin. Let’s give this a try. Just... don’t go stealing all the last plushies every time we’re out together, okay?”

He laughed, his grin brightening at your words. “Only if you agree to keep that bunny plush with you as a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“Of this moment. And of the fact that someone finds you absolutely perfect, exactly as you are.”

The two of you walked out of the gift shop hand in hand, leaving behind any doubts and stepping into something perfectly real.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung

[bloatedandalone04]

The Unholy Three

Summary: You are the lucky girl who gets to be in between the two hottest men that are from opposite sides of the island.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, threesome, mmf, rafe x reader, jj x reader, oral (m receiving), coarse language, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, dirty talk, this is just absolutely filthy and I can’t believe I wrote it, enjoy.

If someone had told Rafe that one day he’d be sitting across from JJ fucking Maybank on his bed with you in between, he would’ve laughed his ass off. But he wasn’t laughing. He was sporting a painful fucking boner as he watched you kiss JJ’s neck. 

“What’s the matter, Cameron?” JJ teased, threading his fingers through your hair as you giggled against his neck. “Thought you wanted her as bad as I did.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, reaching down to palm his hard cock through his jeans for a bit of relief. “I do,” he muttered, reaching out and grabbing onto your hips as he pulled you away from JJ and towards him, his greedy hands squeezing your waist as he buried his face against your shoulder. “Just didn’t expect that you’d be here too.”

You giggled again, willingly going when Rafe tugged you onto his lap so you were straddling his waist, and you draped your arms around his shoulders. “I don’t know why you two don’t get along,” you laughed, threading your fingers through Rafe’s hair as you glance back at JJ. “You’re both hot as fuck. I can’t believe I actually get both of you. I feel like the luckiest girl ever.” 

Reaching behind you and grabbing onto JJ’s arm, you pull him towards you, encouraging him to touch you as Rafe places hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck. 

JJ laughed, moving closer to you as he pressed his erection against your lower back and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Yeah, you’re a lot luckier than we are,” he muttered, gently nipping your ear before his tongue darted out and traced the shell of it. 

Rafe grunted, glaring at the blond before he leaned in and kissed you deeply and dominantly as his hands gripped your hips a bit possessively. You moaned against his lips when his tongue slipped inside your mouth and tasted your own, and you whined when he pulled away to look at the man behind you. “This doesn’t change anything, Pogue,” he mumbled, “You still don’t deserve her.”

JJ laughed again, finding Rafe’s possessiveness amusing since both men were equally claiming you right now. “Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” he teased, his fingers tangling in your hair before he tugged your head back and kissed you as well. You moaned into his mouth, missing the way Rafe’s heated gaze lingered on the deep kiss before JJ pulled away. “She wants both of us…guess we’ll just have to share.”

When JJ groped your breast through your shirt, Rafe grunted and bucked his hips up against you. “Fine,” he muttered, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he guided you to grind against him. 

“I guess this means I won’t be able to get you two to kiss, huh?” you teased, letting JJ pull your shirt off your body. “I can be both of yours…and pulling the hottest guys on the island is such a big flex, you don’t even know.”

JJ grinned, tossing your shirt aside as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, his hands covering your tits as he nuzzled his face against your neck. “We’ll take turns. I’m a very patient guy, sweetheart,” he promised, pressing softer kisses along your shoulder. 

He was definitely the sweeter and softer one out of the two men, and that fact was only proven further when you met Rafe’s intense gaze before he pushed one of JJ’s hands away from your chest so he could lean down and wrap his lips around your nipple. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered against your breast as he flicked your senstive bud with his tongue. “I’ve wanted to taste you since the second I first saw you.”

A loud moan left your lip as you wiggled your body against his, your hands tangling in his hair as you leaned back against JJ. “Yeah?” you breathe, biting your lip when you feel JJ’s hand slide into your shorts and his fingers brush along your wet folds. “How do I taste?” you asked, leaning in to press your forehead against Rafe’s when he pulled away from your chest. 

Rafe smirked up at you, his fingers continuing to pinch and pull at your hard nipples. “Like fucking heaven, baby,” he answered, his hips jerking a bit when you reached down and unzipped his jeans. 

“I think you taste like a fucking dream come true,” JJ added, his fingers gathering up your wetness before he slid them inside you, making you gasp. “So fucking sweet and tight.” he muttered, curling his fingers inside you as best as he could from the awkward angle. 

You moaned when Rafe leaned in and kissed you, his tongue brushing against yours while JJ worked you open. “I want to taste you all over,” he muttered against your mouth, his big hands holding onto your hips as he guided you to grind against the other man’s hand. 

Another loud moan escapes you as you lean your head back on JJ’s shoulder, your hands freeing Rafe’s hard cock. “You can taste me everywhere you want to,” you promised, tugging on the older guy’s hair. “But I need one of you inside me. I need to feel you.”

JJ and Rafe shared a look over the top of your head, and a few seconds later, a smirk formed on JJ’s face as he turned you around so you are facing him, and his thumb came up to tug on your lower lip. “Looks like I get to see the pretty faces you make while he fucks you,” he mumured and then leaned in to kiss you while Rafe kicked his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off before stripping out of his shirt as well. 

He helps guide your shorts and soaked panties down your legs while you kiss JJ before positioning himself behind you, one hand on your thigh while the other grips the base of his cock. Rafe nudged your thighs apart with his knee as he ran the head of his dick along your folds, reveling in the way your body trembled in anticipation. “Fuck yes,” he grunted when he slid inside you, your tight walls instantly welcoming him. 

You whined, your eyes hooded when you looked up at JJ as Rafe started fucking you from behind. “Oh fuck, you’re so big,” you moaned, looking over your shoulder at Rafe before you turned back to JJ and unzipped his shorts, pushing them down his legs along side his boxers. 

JJ leaned back against the headboard as you grasped his cock in your hand before dipping your head down to taste the white beads of pre-cum that had formed on the tip of his dick. His head tipped forward as he looked down at you, his teeth sinking into his lip as you took him into your mouth fully. “Just like that, sweetheart,” he praised, already breathless from how turned on he was. 

Rafe’s eyes darkened as he watched you worship JJ with your mouth, and he felt his own cock grow impossibly harder inside of you. “Look at you, taking us both so well,” he mumbled, his hands sliding along your ass as he pulled you back to meet his thrusts. “So fucking pretty.”

You moaned loudly around JJ, your eyes fluttering a bit at Rafe’s sweet yet sexy praise, and you clenched tightly around him as he pounded into you from behind. His big hands gripped your hips tightly, his body rolling in a way that had him inching even deeper inside of you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, tipping his head back as he held you in place so he could fuck you a bit harder. “You feel so fucking good.”

Meanwhile JJ fisted your hair and tugged on it a little harshly, but he was still the more gentle one of the two as he urged you to take him deeper. “Suck harder, sweetheart,” he breathed, his other hand sliding down to grope your sensitive breasts. 

Your eyes squeezed shut as you took him a bit deeper, and you moaned at the heavy weight of him on your tongue. You took him all the way down your throat and held him there for a few seconds until you needed air, and when you pulled off his messy cock, a string of spit still connected you to his tip. “Fuck, it’s so good,” you whimpered as Rafe’s thrusts send your body jolting forward every time his hips met your ass. 

As you took JJ back inside your mouth, you could feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, the combined sounds of both guys turning you on more than anything else ever had. 

Rafe locked his jaw, his words coming out as a harsh pant as his fingers dug into your skin. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunted through his teeth, his cock throbbing deep inside of you. 

You moaned and looked up at JJ through your lashes, and he let out a deep groan as he held your intense gaze with one of his own. “I’m gonna cum too,” he rasped, tugging a little harder on your hair as he gently thrust into your mouth.

Rafe came first, his warmth flooding you from the inside out as he let out a loud groan that was followed by a string of muttered curses. You could feel all of him as he filled you up, and when his hand slipped around you and started rubbing your clit as his hips jerked a bit unevenly, you were there too. 

Your cry of relief was muffled by JJ’s cock, and the vibrations had his fingers tightening in your hair as he bucked his hips shallowly a few times before he came as well. His cum filled your mouth and dripped down your throat as you tried to swallow as much as you could before you pulled off his cock, a few beads of white slipping from between your lips. 

Rafe slowly pulled out of you, his softening dick twitching as he fell down onto the bed beside you, one of his arms covering his eyes as he let out uneven breaths. “Fuck, that was intense,” he muttered, a sated smirk ghosting over his lips.

You hummed in agreement as JJ brushed your messy hair away from your face. “Are you good?” he asked, his thumb collecting his cum from your lips until you were clean. “We weren’t too rough, were we?” 

Rafe peeked at the two of you from under his arm, and he felt a possessive feeling surge through him at the sweet display of affection you were receiving from the other man, but he didn’t say or do anything about it. “No, you weren’t too rough. You were amazing,” you answered, then looked over at Rafe as you settled onto your stomach between them. “You both were.” 

Rafe grunted again and rolled onto his side, his hand tangling in the hair on the back of your neck as he pressed a searing kiss to your mouth. You moaned softly against his mouth, refraining from deepening it since you could still taste JJ on your tongue, and you wanted this afterglow to last a long time. 

“We should’ve done this sooner,” he mumbled against your lips when he pulled away and draped his arm around your waist. “You think you’re gonna want us again in the future?”

JJ laughed breathlessly, leaning back against the headboard as he ran his fingers through your hair. “Maybe this can become a regular thing,” he suggested, glancing warily at Rafe, who he still didn’t like. At all. But he liked you, and you liked them both, so he’d put up with the other guy if he had to. 

You grinned, nodding slowly as you leaned into both their touches. “I think we’re just getting started, no?” you murmured, and the smirks on both their faces told you all you needed to know.

This would definitely become a regular thing.

-

Trying a new theme, we shall see how it goes. Thanks for reading x

[raekensluver]

closing arguments

masterlist | main masterlist - part one, part two, part three

description: you and arthur have always been rivals, competing over everything from grades to courtroom wins. but when rivalry starts to feel like something more, losing to him doesn’t feel like losing anymore.

contains: fluff, eventual smut, rivals to lovers trope, lawyer!fem!reader

song rec: company by justin bieber - "just wanna have a conversation, forget about the obligations."

w.c: 765+

a.n: the names i used for the case are totally made up. also, thank you so much @pretendyoucantseeme for helping me edit!!

the sound of your heels echoed across the marbled floors of the courthouse lobby, each step a declaration of intent. you adjusted the cuffs of your blazer with a flick of your wrist and didn’t bother hiding the smirk that tugged at your lips when you spotted the familiar figure standing just outside courtroom 4b.

arthur frederick.

even from a distance, he was insufferably composed. his hunter green suit was immaculate, his tie knotted with precision that felt almost smug, and the portfolio tucked under his arm might as well have been a sword the way he wielded it - deadly and precise.

he looked up at the sound of your approach. his expression flickered - recognition, mild surprise, and then that trademark smirk that had followed you since the first day of law school.

"let me guess," he said, voice smooth as silk and twice as sharp, "robinson v. hughes?"

"you really ought to stop stalking my docket, frederick," you replied, matching his smirk with one of your own. "it’s starting to look a little desperate."

arthur gave a short, clipped laugh. "it’s not stalking if we just keep getting assigned to the same cases."

you sigh. it was true. somehow, in this vast city filled with overworked attorneys and endless firms, you and arthur always seemed to end up in the same courtroom, across the aisle. your firms were rivals - cutthroat, corporate, and both equally determined to be the best. you had landed at langston & hawke straight out of law school, while arthur had joined garrick wolfe llp. they were your firm’s closest competition, your mirror opposite. if langston & hawke believed in calculated pressure and ironclad paperwork, garrick wolfe was about charm, flair, and disruption.

you never quite saw eye to eye. even in law school, the tension had been palpable. different values. different methods. same insatiable need to win.

"we’re due to start in ten," arthur said, tilting his head toward the courtroom doors. "don’t worry, i’ll try not to embarrass you too badly."

"you say that every time," you said, brushing past him. "and yet somehow i still keep walking out with the victory."

you didn’t turn to look, but you could feel his eyes follow you all the way in.

the courtroom was already half-filled when you stepped inside. you greeted your client with a nod and began setting up at your table, placing files and notes in the precise order you preferred. arthur was doing the same across the aisle.

the judge entered promptly on the hour, and you both stood, reciting the same respectful greeting.

the case itself was simple on the surface: a dispute over a broken contract. your job was to prove your client was right, that the other party didn’t hold up their end of the deal. arthur’s job? the opposite.

"your honor, the other side is twisting the agreement’s wording," you said as you stood, holding your folder in one hand. "they’re leaving out key parts that alter the meaning of the contract."

arthur stood too, eyes sharp. "actually, the case of evans v. wright shows that similar contracts have been interpreted our way in the past."

you blinked. "that case is from 1998. it barely applies here. you can’t use outdated examples to win arguments, frederick."

the judge sighed like she’d seen this movie before. "counsel, approach."

you both walked up to her bench. your shoulders brushed briefly. arthur smelled like cedarwood and clean air. you hated that you noticed.

the judge gave you both a stern look. "this isn’t a debate club. keep it professional. mr. frederick, she’s right - you’re stretching."

arthur gave a polite nod. "understood, your honor."

back at your table, you risked one glance in his direction. he caught your eye and smiled, just a little.

infuriating.

two hours later, the judge postponed the decision for a few days. your client was pleased, which meant you were too. you began gathering your things when arthur appeared beside you.

"good job today," he said, voice softer now.

you looked up. "that mean you're admitting i won this round?"

"not officially. but... yeah. maybe."

it was the most honest thing he’d said to you in years.

"drinks later?" he asked. "just to keep the rivalry alive."

you hesitated. you should say no. you really should. but instead, you nodded.

"one drink. and if you start quoting old cases, i’m out."

he grinned. "deal."

you walked out of the courtroom together, not quite touching, but close.

it didn’t feel like a battle anymore.

it felt like a beginning.

[keyotos]

well aware, you are always mine

summary ⎯ bf headcanons w/ hsr men!!

includes ⎯ dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo, jing yuan

tana's thoughts ⎯ keyotos being active and writing?!!!?!!?!?!

dan heng

⎯ TOTAL acts of service bf. cuts fruit for you, organizes your closet with you, helps you rearrange ur bookshelf. like all of that. he is ur #1 helper in all situations and is probably the most reliable person u know. if ur ever having problems, you always call dan heng bc he always solves them for you

⎯ considerate bf. listens to all ur song recommendations and also your book recommendations. never takes your word with a grain of salt (most of the time)

⎯ not a big fan of shopping trips, but will go with you anyway. he will carry all your bags and help you pick out clothes. AND HE WILL GIVE U ACTUAL FREAKING ADVICE INSTEAD OF BEING LIKE, "it all looks good on you."

⎯ like dan heng will pull up with, "that color washes you out," or, "that does not match your color pallete at all." he's detailed wit it too?? the only reason why he knows all of this is bc he pays attention to you.

you see something you like? let's find it in that color that matches w/ ur fav pants so you can wear it all the time. don't worry, i already found it.

you look dissatisfied? dan heng thinks he knows why: you think it won't look good. oh, he was right? well, he can help you style it in a way for it to look good. you can wear that with the shirt you like so much, with some added jewelry, of course.

⎯ does not spend ANY TIME in his room (but who could rlly blame him). he's always in yours and he's lying down in your bed. he takes the phrase, "make yourself at home," to another level. but i guess he gets a pass bc you literally are his home.

⎯ he's sarcastic asl. since his guard is down with you, there's not really a need to maintain seriousness at all times. his dry and sarcastic humor really comes out when you're around him specifically. dating dan heng would make u a victim of the sassy men apocalypse.

⎯ dan heng is the type of person to stare at you lovingly (like HEART EYES are coming out) while you guys are taking a photo together. and you wouldn't even know until you saw the photo. like picture this: you are over here smiling and being cute or whateva. and then dan heng is there. he's obliviously staring at you: like how the light perfectly bounces off your face and how perfectly your eyes crinkle when you smile.

⎯ when he feels secure around you, he is the definition of lovesick. longing stares from far away (even tho ur dating)? yes. touchy (you make sure to tease him about it)? yes. buries his head in the nape of your neck? duh. like he is the whole package and he can never seem to let you go... like ever. you are constantly stuck in his head and also his body.

gepard

⎯ hilariously bad at taking pictures. like you tell him to get one angle and he gets the exact opposite angle. manages to always catch you off guard in every. single. picture. his excuse for this is, "but you look good in all of them :/"

⎯ when he gets super tired after work, sometimes when he gets home and finishes showering/etc, he just flops onto u. like. literally flops onto you. you're always shocked at first, but you move him into a position where he can comfortably sleep (and hold you) in and then you relax. he always apologizes for it later in the morning and makes sure to shower you in more affection than last night, but you always reassure him that it's fine.

it's only bc u take the time to take equally bad photos of him #payback.

⎯ you have to water his plants for him. we all saw this coming. but on the bright side, that means ur home more often!! and when you greet him on the couch after a long day... like you've never heard a deeper sigh of relief before. doesn't collapse on you like other days (thankfully). you two just spend the night eating dinner on the couch and watching reality tv. sometimes, when you fall asleep on the couch, gepard always brings a blanket from your bedroom and drapes it over you. and then he carries you into bed.

⎯weirdly good at cracking your back for you. like if he wasn't the captain of the silvermane guards, he could very well be a freaking chiropractor. like he knows all the right joints to pop, all the right places to put his hands, and all the right places to press down. and it feels SO GOOD. you've never asked him about it.

⎯ gets you really cute and considerate gifts since he isn't around a lot. sometimes gets lynx to deliver them for him. and they're always paired with your favorite flowers too. all his gifts r things that he remembered you liked/wanted (new shampoo brand, new book pela recommended, new plants).

⎯ still asks if you wanna go out even if you two have been dating long term. like he would text you and be like, "would you like to go out with me for coffee," all formal and wtv, and you would respond like, "gepard we have been dating for five years. you do not need to ask."

he would get all flustered when you would bring it up at the coffee shop. pays for your coffee so you could forget about it (you don't: you tease him endlessly).

⎯ learns other things for you. he's dedicated and loyal to you like how a soldier is dedicated to their general. if you wanted a specific kind of dish, gepard would learn how to create it. if you wanted to learn how to plant certain seeds, gepard would run to the florist (and pela) to ask for many tips. if you spoke a different language, gepard would be running to duolingo.

though there is always his duty, a part of his heart and soul will always belong to you.

blade

⎯ contrary to gepard, takes the BEST FUCKING PHOTOS of you. he should be a professional photographer or something because, all the photos he takes, makes you look like a MODEL. he gets all the angles perfectly right + he always makes sure the lighting looks good. and u look back at all the photos he took and ur jaw is DROPPED

⎯ hates going outside x goes outside 24/7. you're big on exploration and fun while blade wants to lie low. but either way, you two manage to have fun in your own respective ways. blade watches you from a distance (of 1 foot) and only intervenes if he needs to. other than that, you drag him around the entire place. he is not complaining: one stupid and cheeky grin from you, and blade realizes he is an absolute goner.

⎯ a little too supportive. it's a good thing in all aspects except for one: making decisions. this mf is like, "whatever you do, i fully support your decision." BUT THE PROBLEM IS THAT YOU CANNOT MAKE A DECISION. THAT'S WHY UR ASKING HIM.

⎯ this problem comes up very often during shopping trips. where dan heng excels at shopping trips, blade... not so much. blade is the type of bf to say, "everything looks good on you." but not bc he doesn't care enough: he genuinely thinks you look good in everything.

in his mind it's like: how could you think you look bad in that outfit when you are radiating luminosity from every crevice of the room??? does anyone else see that glow coming from you, or was it just him??

⎯ did not have a favorite color until you. he actually didn't have a lot of favorites before he met you. now his favorite color is blue (you like looking at the sky), his favorite scent is peach blossoms (the shampoo you use), and his favorite food is fried rice (it's the only thing you know how to make).

⎯ does ur hair for u. expert in hair care but it's not uncalled for (his only friends⎯not counting you⎯are silverwolf and kafka). you need to braid your hair? blade has already offered before u could even pull up a tutorial. a new cute hairstyle you wanted to try? don't worry, your boyfriend is there to help you part, section, and clip your hair.

⎯ pretends to give off big scary dog energy, in reality he is a small little lapdog. desires your love and affection so often. does not go out without you. grabs things n carries them to u like a cute little dog would. he's very devoted okay?? let him bring u stupid little trinkets and stay by ur side all the time.

⎯ you send him stupid ass memes all the time. one time u sent him one of those stupid 'good night' memes and he threatened to block you (lovingly). but he found that his reactions always make you laugh (and blade wants to keep you happy forever), so he just lets you send them to him atp. most nights, he sends a simple, "good night" text back. but when he wants to tease you, he sends a goodnight meme back.

⎯ those nights, he thinks that he hears your ecstatic giggles from down the hall. you sound so giddy that it makes his heart want to blow up. those are the good nights.

sampo

⎯ bro is mischievous. he leaves little sticky notes for you all around the house and makes it a game for u to find them. they're not even super important too they're just little things like, "i miss you," or, "did u find all the notes???"

⎯ but he knows you get bored easily, so he made those notes so that you could have something to do during the day. his intentions are adorably sweet, but his execution is so. um. A FOR EFFORT!

⎯ most of the stuff he gives you... hate to break it to u but they are usually stolen. if you choose to ignore that, great! most of the things he grabs are usually rare and u have no idea how he gets them. you swear he doesn't leave belobog, but some of the items he gifts you seem a little too... outlandish. but yk, it's the thought that counts!

⎯ manages to distract you from every single task. usually disruptive, but sometimes, very helpful. after an entire day of work, you can always come back home to where sampo is, because he will always find a way to distract you from whatever stress you have on your plate. whether it be cooking you dinner or simply talking you through his day, you always find yourself feeling slightly better around him.

⎯ has a good relationship with your family. yeah this was very unexpected on both ends. your parents love him: they love his humor and his looks and literally are charmed by him. even tho is a CON ARTIST. anyway. sampo loves your parents and messes around with you by calling them as their parental names (mom/dad). you are not amused.

⎯ grabs dinner before he comes back home. always manages to swing by a place you like and he always gets free food (you've gave up trying to question his methods). before, when he brought home food, it was usually a special occasion because he would never be home often. now, it's a common occurrence: he's wanted to be with you more, and now he brings home food every day.

jing yuan

⎯ the xianzhou's nagging king. this is not a good thing. he nags at you for a lot. did you take your allergy meds? did you eat breakfast today or just drink coffee? did you forget to clear out the pencils on your desk? he does it out of endearment. it does not make it less annoying (lies).

⎯ so accustomed to your little routines together that he can do it with his eyes closed. how do you want your tea? easy: he can list it within ten seconds. he can make it with his eyes closed. and he will always make it perfectly too.

⎯ lets you sleep on mimi (you could say you go mimimimi). not even gonna lie, sometimes he wishes he was mimi. you just sleep so peacefully on her, but you refuse to sleep on jing yuan. you make up stupid excuses like, "your bicep is going to be numb by the time we wake up." but that is simply not true (it is).

⎯ favorite times of day are when it's night. okay that didn't make any sense but he really just likes spending the night with you. it's quiet and the world is much less loud, and it feels like being with you redefined the definition of happiness. everything is so much more peaceful, and plus, you were there.

⎯ being a cloud knight general has its negative aspects. so, much like gepard, he would probably also crash into bed with you at night. but this time, he doesn't need you to move him, because he traps you in between his arms every. damn. time. it's like this man cannot fall asleep without you.

⎯ sitting down with him is like a chore. if you two are sitting down, jing yuan likes to grab your legs and move them onto himself, so you two would be closer. this isn't just on the sofa, by the way. armchairs, conference chairs, office chairs. the chairs don't even have to be connected. he'll just find a way to connect you two anyway.

⎯ you are the first person he looks for in a crowded room. in a place full of people, jing yuan's eyes will only scan for you. his height makes it easier to do so btw. but anyway, you are someone of great importance to him. he doesn't want to lose you like how he lost so many. and when he finds you, it's like the sun shines directly on you: it's always a surreal sight when jing yuan sees you, because he always thinks the sun has risen.

⎯ it hasn't. he was always looking at you.

AND GOOD NIGHT. jfc.

[unusualtfs]

The Roommate Compatibility Program

this is my first time posting something like this to tumblr, hope it's an enjoyable read !

Arthur and Jimmy may have had the same last name, but that was the only thing they had in common.

Arthur Lee was, by all accounts, a nerd. When the Asian math major wasn’t dutifully taking notes on complex equations at his lectures or studying in silence at the library, he could usually be found holed up in his dorm, gaming until the wee hours of the morning. His only extracurricular activity to speak of was his weekly participation in the Chinese Student Union, if by “participation” one meant “sitting in the back of the room and not speaking to anyone.” His naturally pale skin was made even more so by a lack of sunlight, and his messy black hair resisted any attempt at styling. Short, shrimpy, and gay, he had clearly never seen the inside of a gym. In short, he was the exact opposite of his roommate.

Jimmy Lee was everything Arthur was not. Tall where Arthur was short, buff where Arthur was skinny, popular where Arthur was friendless. The straight white jock spent his days living out the all-American college fantasy — playing sports, pumping iron, and partying all night long. Of course, that hardly left any time for Jimmy to work toward his comms degree — but that hardly mattered, because everyone knew he was as dumb as a bag of rocks. His brutish Neanderthal features, extensive body hair, and blond buzz cut only added to that impression.

Maybe it would have been unrealistic to expect Arthur and Jimmy to be friends, but certainly no one could have anticipated the sheer antipathy that defined their roommate relationship. Arthur’s reasons for hating Jimmy were predictable — he was dumb, loud, and obnoxious; he left dirty clothes and sweaty exercise gear everywhere; and he stank up the dorm with his alpha musk. Jimmy equally couldn’t stand his prissy, prudish roommate. Arthur nagged him constantly, and he shot down all his invitations to work out or go out. Not to mention, he forbade Jimmy from getting laid while he was in the room, which was all the time. Nothing said unsexy like the presence of a judgmental Asian nerd hunched over his gaming PC at two in the morning.

Needless to say, it was not an ideal situation for anyone. So when a flier for the Roommate Compatibility Program was slipped under their door one evening, their interest was piqued.

Having issues with your roommate(s)? The Roommate Compatibility Program is here to help! Our trained experts use scientifically proven methods to ensure you and your roommate have a lifelong bond. 100% success rate, guaranteed!

In a rare moment of agreement for them, they decided they had nothing to lose.

That was how they found themselves entertaining a stranger in their dorm the next day. The man, who had introduced himself as “Mr. Thompson-Filipowski, from the RCP — but you can call me Mr. T.F. for short” had shown up out of the blue, giving them no time to prepare. So now they sat in their respective beds, answering Mr. T.F.’s questions as he appraised their living space thoughtfully. He wore a loud blue suit and had in hand a clipboard that he occasionally used to jot down notes, but otherwise he had no distinguishing features to speak of. Everything else about him, from his build to his skin tone to his hairstyle, was somehow impossible to pin down. He must have just had one of those faces.

“Thank you, boys,” he said after he was done interrogating them about their (lack of a) relationship. “I just have one more question for each of you before we can officially get started.” He turned to Jimmy first. “Jimmy, what would your ideal roommate be like?”

Jimmy had to think for quite a bit at that question. Finally, he responded in his vapid baritone: “Uh, I dunno… I guess he would just, like, be my bro.”

Mr. T.F. nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. “Okay, excellent.” He turned to the Asian nerd next. “And Arthur, what about you?”

“My ideal roommate would be someone who’s, well, similar to me,” Arthur said, wincing at how his voice still cracked at every word. “Someone who shares my interests, and who I can spend time with, and… yeah.”

Mr. T.F. returned to his clipboard. “Right,” he said. “So, to summarize — Jimmy, you want your roommate to be your bro. And Arthur, you want your roommate to be similar to you. Is that correct?” There was a strange weight to his words, exuding the sense that something significant was carried within them, but Jimmy didn’t register this and Arthur thought it irrational, so both roommates ignored it. They nodded.

“Excellent!” Mr. T.F. said, the ominous presence now gone from his voice. “Okay, so often what we’ve found at the RCP is that roommate incompatibility is often a case of misapplied expectations. Often, our roommates do meet our expectations, you just need to keep an open mind about it. I’d wager you boys have much more in common than you think.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and Jimmy audibly scoffed at that, but they both kept listening anyway.

“For instance, looking around your dorm room, I can tell that both of you have a pretty similar fashion sense, wouldn’t you say?”

Arthur wanted to protest that all of the clothes strewn about belonged to Jimmy, not him, but the more he looked, the more he realized that wasn’t entirely true. That jersey on the floor definitely belonged to him, as did the baseball cap hanging from his bed and the sweaty white socks next to his desk. In fact, now that he thought about it, roughly half of the clothing he could see actually was his. Huh, he supposed he did dress similarly to Jimmy, then…

“I guess so,” Jimmy said as Arthur was distracted. “It’s hard to remember whose is whose sometimes because we dress the same and wear the same size, huhuh.”

As Jimmy spoke, his words became reality. He didn’t notice, but he shrunk down a few inches from his previously monstrous height until he was just under six feet — still respectable, but no longer anything more. Meanwhile, Arthur rose dramatically to meet him, until they stood at the exact same height. Since the two were equally small and shared the same taste in schlubby, sporty clothes, they essentially owned one wardrobe between them, borrowing and swapping constantly — although what looked tight and well-fitted on the muscular Ajimmy was loose and baggy on the lanky Jarthur. Curiously, the shirt Jarthur currently wore was the one item of clothing he wore that didn’t update itself to match his new reality; as such, it was now uncomfortably small on him.

Mr. T.F. continued, “And judging by the sports gear and gaming equipment in here, it looks like you also have similar interests, isn’t that right? Have you ever tried bonding over that?”

Again, it seemed Mr. T.F. was mistaken. Yes, their room indicated their respective interests in fitness and video games, but those interests were far from shared. Jarthur wanted to correct him, but then he had to reconsider. While he wasn’t into sports like Ajimmy, he certainly knew his way around them. He got as hyped as any other guy watching the Super Bowl, and he had fun whenever he was invited to play a quick game of basketball or soccer.

Meanwhile, Ajimmy was trying not to laugh at the implication that he liked video games. What did Mr. T.F. take him for, some nerd like Jarthur? But now that he thought about it… he did have fond memories of owning his bros with his mad gaming skills. He didn’t really want to call himself a gamer — he wasn’t into any of that anime or Nintendo kiddie shit. But Madden, CoD? Yeah, he fucked with those.

Imperceptibly, the dorm room shifted to match the roommates’ changing interests. Posters of popular players duplicated themselves from Ajimmy’s side of the room and pinned themselves into the wall above Jarthur’s bed. At the same time, the gaming computer vanished from Jarthur’s desk, swiftly replaced by a small TV between their beds. Well-used controllers popped into existence, one for each of them. The roommates themselves weren’t spared from the wave of changes, either. The tan leached out of Asjimm’s skin until he was quite pale, although not unhealthily so. Meanwhile, muscles made themselves known for the first time all across Joethur’s body. He was still lanky, but there was a definite sculptedness to his body that had never been there before, demonstrating his newfound appreciation of physical activity and straining his shirt even further.

“Yeah, all the time,” Joethur responded to Mr. T.F.’s questions. “I can destroy Asjimm at basketball in real life and in 2K,” he bragged.

“As if!” Asjimm retorted good-naturedly. “Next time, I’m kicking your ass, nerd!”

Joethur laughed. He may have had some problems with his roommate, but their shared competitiveness was not one of them.

“Ah, that’s lovely to hear,” Mr. T.F. said, checking a box on his clipboard. “The best way to become closer is to spend time together, after all. But that should be easy for you two — I’d imagine your class schedules are quite similar, since you’re in the same major.”

What was Mr. T.F. talking about? Joethur had never taken a comms class in his life, and Asjimm would certainly never be caught dead in a math classroom. But then Joethur went over his class schedule in his head again, and he realized that he did share most of his classes with his roommate. There was Accounting 101 on Mondays and Wednesdays, and Entrepreneurship every Thursday morning… In fact, aside from Joethur’s one math class and Asjimm’s lone comms class, their schedules were identical! But how could that be the case…?

“Well, I mean, yeah, I guess we do,” Asjimm said. His face twisted into a cocky smirk. “But just between you and me, it’s not like we bother to show up to class most of the time, right Joethyr?”

Everything suddenly snapped into place for Joethyr. Ausjim was right, of course — being a business major required confidence, charisma, and leadership skills more than anything else, and both Joethyr and Ausjim had that in spades. It certainly didn’t require studying or smarts, which was fortunate for Joethyr, as his brain was rapidly shrinking to match his meatheaded roommate’s. In fact, it was even smaller than Ausjim’s — he had scored highly enough in high school math that he was able to take an elective comms class for an easy A this semester, while Joethyr was being forced to struggle through calculus for a second time.

Records across campus rapidly rewrote themselves to reflect this new reality. Ausjim’s grades rose slightly, even as Joethyr’s GPA dropped from a 4.0 to a 2.0 — but whatever, C’s got degrees. In turn, the two roommates underwent their own changes. Joethyr’s unkempt hair retreated into his skull, leaving behind a slick fade. Moreover, the spark of intelligence retreated from his eyes, leaving them dark and hard. Ausjim’s hair experienced the opposite change, growing out into an impeccably groomed quiff that perfectly framed his face, neutralizing his unattractive Neanderthal features. His body hair also faded into nothingness, leaving him totally clean-shaven. The business classes he was taking had taught him the importance of presentation, after all.

“Yeah, bruh,” Joethyr agreed, now speaking in the same vacant timbre as Ausjim.

“Well, how do you boys spend your time then?” Mr. T.F. prompted. He was nearly at the bottom of his checklist — this far into the process, he didn’t even need to guide the roommates’ transformation. Their new personalities had largely subsumed who they used to be, and would be happy to fill the remaining gaps by themselves.

“Isn’t it obvious, bruh?” Ausjim said. “The gym — duh! Gotta get those gains!”

At his roommate’s proclamation, Joethy underwent a startling change. At last, his muscles ballooned all across his body until they were identical in size to Ausjim’s. No longer did he have to settle for merely toned — he was well and truly ripped. So dramatic was the change that his shirt was instantly torn apart, revealing his glorious pecs and washboard abs for the world to see. The Asian hunk subconsciously flexed as he thought about his answer to Mr. T.F.’s question, realizing something funny in the process.

“Hell, we probably even spend more time at the Chinese Student Union than class, right bruh?” Joethy nudged his equally jockish roommate.

The word “Chinese” resonated in Ausjin’s mind as he experienced sudden changes of his own. His lush hair was quickly thickening and inexorably staining itself midnight black. And as for the rest of his body, his lack of hair down there became much easier to maintain, as he naturally had less of it. Meanwhile, his facial features were shifting all at once — brow softening, nose broadening, eyes narrowing, lips plumpening. Eventually, they settled on what the rest of his body had already become — a carbon copy of his roommate.

“Yeah, bro, totally…”

At the word “bro,” the roommates’ final changes began. The physical refinements were over, but there was still work to do mentally. Ausjin’s brain was purged of the faces of his former family, their white features morphing into far more familiar Asian ones. Fond memories shifted as his mother’s famous meatloaf became her authentic dumpling recipe, and the destination of his childhood summer vacations was corrected from Europe to China. Through it all, he remained the dumb, popular jock he had always been. That was also true of Joethy, who could no longer remember being a lame, skinny nerd. Nights spent studying were replaced with nights spent partying, and members of an extensive social circle easily entered the parts of his brain that had never experienced true friendship. His memories of his family remained the same, however — with one key addition. The newcomer’s face was blurry, but the more that he focused on it, the more familiar it seemed. Almost like… his own face…? Or was it Ausjin’s face? That seemed closer, but… 

By Joethy’s side, Ausjin found his memories haunted by an identical face. The two jocks sat there in dumbfounded silence, both trying to recall who it was that featured so prominently in their memories. What was his name? Not Joethy or Ausjin, but rather… rather…

“Joey! Austin!”

Joey and Austin Lee snapped back to attention, refocusing on their strange guest.

Mr. T.F. chuckled, putting his clipboard away. “You boys zoned out there for a sec! It’s okay, I’ll get out of your hair soon. I just have one last question for you — are you getting along as roommates?”

“Well, of course we’re getting along, bruh!” Austin exclaimed.

“We’re basically the same person already!” Joey finished his twin’s sentence with a pure, dull guffaw.

Because it was true. Joey and Austin Lee were clearly cut from the same cloth: The identical twin Asian jocks were both brainless, buff, bisexual business-major bros. The only appreciable difference between the twins was their hairstyles. Austin fancied himself a pretty boy, spending hours by the mirror meticulously maintaining his gelled hair. Joey, meanwhile, rocked a utilitarian crew cut, confident enough to put his angelic face on full display. But other than that, they were totally inseparable — everything they did, from working out to gaming to partying, they did together. (Rumor had it that they even fucked together, only bringing a lucky girl or guy home when he or she was willing to share.)

“Great to hear that! Thanks for participating in our Roommate Compatibility Survey, you two — although I don’t know what results we were expecting from twins like you… Anyway, have a great one!” As Mr. T.F. exited the room, he allowed himself one last glance back at the Lee twins as they mindlessly bantered. Both of them had certainly gotten their wishes. Joey was exactly like Austin, and Austin was exactly like Joey, and they were certainly each other’s bros — in both senses of the word. Another success for the Roommate Compatibility Program.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Mr. T.F., the Lee twins promptly forgot he had ever existed, returning to their existences as paragons of young Asian American masculinity.

“So, what’s the plan for today, bro?” Austin said. “Hit the gym, then hit the streets?”

Joey smirked, admiring himself and his twin in the mirror. “You know me so well, bro!”

[astrobydalia]

Your present... Relationship observations pt. IV

I know you guys love these so here's more! As always, enjoy and happy holidays!

work by astrobydalia

long post!

A common thing I've seen in the charts of people who are firmly monogamous is moon-mercury aspects (this is not the only indicator ofc). Their decisions and interests are guided by what they feel so once they set their heart on someone... that's it for them

A very interesting lesson that I took from doing so many synastry/composite readings is that the "like attracts like" trope is WAY more powerful than the "opposites attract" trope. Here are some of the most common similarities I've spotted:

couples sharing the same ASC (this one is SO common)

Very similar aspects to the moon: I’ve noticed many couples have each of their moons aspecting the same planets, specially, outer planets, usually in similar (sometimes even the same) aspects. For example person A has Moon Square Pluto and person B has moon opposite Pluto (both harsh aspects)

A common thing I've seen in many couples synastry is Venus square Venus aspect

On the other hand I’ve noticed that flings or really passionate relationships tend to have Moon square moon in synastry

Moon sextile Moon relationships are so perfect imo. They have the easy understanding of the trine and the passion of the square/opposition

I’ve seen a lot of unrequited love situations have Venus square/opposite Moon. The moon person is attached to and idolizes the Venus person. The Venus person enjoys moon’s company but they aren’t that romantically involved or interested

Earth Moons are very fond of stability what is known to them but they secretly want someone who takes them out of their comfort zone and opens them up to deep and exciting emotional experiences. I've noticed they usually end up with partners who are more sensitive, expressive and spontaneous

I’ve noticed Venus-Pluto natives (square, opposition, conjunction) end up building some kind of resentment towards their long-term partners overtime and won’t let them go. The type to spend years married to some they secretly hate and also the type of person who demonizes every single one of their exes. It’s like they tend to attract relationships that wake up a dark side in them

Something I keep seeing over and over is that Cancer placements are playerssssss (both men and women). They will treat you like you’re “the one” but that doesn’t necessarily mean they have an actual intention to settle with you😭 they're just getting carried away by what they feel in moment so I guess they are unintentional players???

Leo and Libra placements on the other hand are intentional players imo. They love the romance and chasing just for the validation it gives them

In order to keep a Cardinal Venus/Moon interested you need to keep showing up like your relationship is brand new. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve be together or how comfortable you are with each other, they want their partner to still make an effort to impress and romance them like it’s the first date and they're bound to do the same

Women with Libra Mars I've noticed tend to attract mamas boys or child-like men with mommy issues. These women are always the dominant or mature ones in their relationships

Capricorn Mars women are dominant too and have a strong character but they chase men who are equally as independent as them if not more

Something I’ve noticed with Pisces/Neptune 7th house (and also Pisces Venus/Juno to an extent) is that yeah they put their partner on a pedestal but they also low-key tend to take their partner for granted? I’ve noticed they expect their partner to be indulgent, permissive and basically tolerate their bs. Little is talked about how their tendency to ignore red flags goes both ways; they want their partner to ignore their red flags too and forgive all their behaviors

What is up with Aquarius and Pisces placements attracting each other all the damn time?

Water Venus/Mars win the award for most obsessive lovers out there

I’ve seen a lot of people with Mars in the 7th house who were divorced or never married. One friend of mine who has this placement says she doesn’t want to marry at all or have a relationship cause she’s too independent

Women with fixed Mars are attracted to men who have rough or bold characteristics such as beard, tattoos, toned body, deep voice, etc. or just a very bold presence in general. They also have a thing for men who have a very confident, understated and nonchalant demeanor/personality to them

Women with mutable Mars and their attraction to flighty and chaotic men who don’t give them the time of day. I’ve seen this countless times 😭😭😭

I've seen harmonious aspects between Mars-Moon in people that work very well together! This aspect typically means fertility which in a work environment translates into a fruitful relationship. The two people wanting to create/initiate things together with lots of motivation

Who came up with the idea that Aries Moon/Venus are disloyal and flighty? All I keep seeing irl is these natives tend to have a strong attachment to their partners. Once they're in your corner they won't ever let you go fr. They could have a tendency to get attached to the wrong people tho

I’ve seen many many couples having 7th house Mars in synastry but this overlay is super chaotic imo, creates a back and forth dynamic that ends nowhere. The house person is the chaser here, they are always pushing commitment on the Mars person cause they don’t want the mars person to “slip away” or something. The mars person enjoys the eagerness of the house person and finds it very attractive and could enjoy challenging the house person’s interest. Eventually if the mars person isn’t that interested they get bored and are often the first ones to walk away

A very similar outcome I've seen happens with 7th house Mars in Composite. This could make the bond between the two a bit "forced" and dragged out. This also means the connection will really be put to the test, you guys may have to fight for your connection a lot which can either bond you more or exhaust you, could eventually become tired of the relationship and how much energy it takes to keep it alive.

I have a theory that your preferred house overlays could be indicated by your Venus/7th house/Juno. For example if you have Leo Venus you might enjoy 5th house synastry, if you have Neptune or Pisces in the 7th house you might feel comfortable with 12th house synastry, etc. Let me know what you think about this

I’ve noticed that 8th house synastry results in a lot of physical touch going on so people who have this as their love language might be specially fond of this overlay. This is the couple that literally can’t keep their hands off each other

Scorpio Moons 🤝 sabotaging the few healthy relationships they have in their life. They eventually learn to keep the right people after really going through it tho

With 7th house synastry you can really feel like something's missing when you don't have that person around.

When moon falls in fire houses in synastry the two people are always excited to see each other

Moon in 1st house in synastry is the only 1st house overlay that is not superficial. The connection is usually very genuine while it lasts. This person likely sparks a lot of nostalgia and you remember them fondly

When someone’s personal planets fall in your 4th house, you feel like this person can see you for who you truly are deep down

Gemini Venus/Juno/7th house: the people they date tend to have almost identical characteristic, there's always this blatant "twin" factor in the people they date or attract. For example all their exes worked in the same industry, have the exact same personality, etc

Venus Observations...

Libra Venus has the rep for being big flirts and charmers but this is actually a Cardinal Venus thing tbh cause, as I've said in a past post, they love the chase, they just all do it in different ways

It's true Virgo Venus are picky but this doesn't necessarily mean they have high standards. Yes, stay with me here. These natives have a very clear series of characteristics they want a partner to meet and that's how they are picky/critical (earth) but if those boxes are checked, they don't care much about anything else (mutable) and can be quite flexible. They don’t really care if their partner is not the most sought after person

In contrast, Capricorn Venus are picky AND have high standards. They want the best of the best, the perfect partner

Virgo Venus wants a partner that doesn’t need validation however they want their partner to validate them all the time

Aquarius Venus will only commit if they see a future with that person. Not only they are ruled by Saturn (which rules longevity) but they are also ruled by Uranus which rules innovation, Aquarius is the visionary of the zodiac so Aquarius Venus people need to feel like their partner will help them evolve or "upgrade" as a person in some way (not in a materialistic way like Capricorn but rather mentally). That's why they are attracted to people who are "different", intelligent or eccentric

The reason why Aquarius Venus is "flighty" as per my observation is because they tend to go for partners who are radically different from them and as a result they often stumble upon many incompatible partners

Leo Venus is very underrated when it comes to acts of service, I’ve noticed this is a very common love language for them

In my experience Pisces Venus natives are SO deceitful and immature. I'm sorry I really wanted to like this placement but they always make me cringe and are only cute on the surface imo. The type to lead everyone on by saying things they don’t mean and exaggerating compliments. They’re very passive in love and romanticize bare minimum. This means they don't expect their partner to take accountability but the native never takes accountability themselves either. They ignore issues in relationships and instead of working things through they expect everything to be fixed with lovebombing and/or pretending like nothing happened. Men with this placement tend to be emotionally unavailable and always want to date a doormat girl. Women with this placement are childish and tend to have princess complex

The only Venus sign that doesn't care much about looks from what I've seen is Scorpio Venus. They care more about the bond and chemistry over their partner fitting a certain type.

Also, what is up with Scorpio Venus and dating people they don’t actually like that much or at all? 🤨 They be dating people that low-key annoy them

Libra, Leo, Capricorn and Taurus Venus very much care about looks in a partner. Taurus/Capricorn Venus natives I've noticed pay special attention to how a potential partner dresses and grooms themselves

All Fixed Venus natives are pretty obsessive to honest, it's not just Scorpio. I've noticed they like the idea of having some sort hold or control over their partner. Their love language is making themselves indispensable in some way cause they enjoy feeling like they're partner will always need them and won't get away from them

Men with Pisces/Libra/Cancer/Taurus Venus have a thing for women who are people pleasers or stereotypically feminine and charming. They like it when a woman is kind, gentle, understanding, accommodating, etc

Men with Fire Venus are attracted to confident and independent women who have this it girl vibe to them

Something else I’ve noticed with Fixed Venus natives is that they have a thing for partners that have a mysterious or reserved vibe to them. Not necessarily introverted, but people who protect their privacy or keep to themselves a lot.

Mutable Venus fall for partners that have this very open and outgoing vibe to them. Again, not necessarily extroverted, but people who have a more bubbly personality

Cardinal Venus natives will only fall in love with someone who they deeply admire. They commit to people who have this put together/respectable vibe to them

Juno Observations...

I've actually observed Juno synastry is very significant in business relationships not just romantic ones. In fact, those married couple I've seen with heavy Juno synastry also tended to be involved in business together

Sagittarius Juno I've seen manifests mostly as the native getting a spouse that is very permissive and gives them a lot of freedom, a spouse that never says no to anything. This placement overall gives a very respectful and supportive spouse. However because of this the Sag Juno native will have a tendency to cross boundaries in the marriage and take their spouse for granted

In general both Sagittarius and Pisces Juno have a tendency to "abandon" their spouses either physically or emotionally and kinda forget about them from time to time. This doesn't necessarily have to mean disloyalty tho.

Sag Juno natives want to feel like they have the freedom to go and do their own thing, like they'll leave for days or weeks on end and their spouse won't mind and will indeed support the native. They don’t like to feel like marriage hinders their desire to live freely but rather encourages it. Side note: I have seen some cases in which Sag Juno natives actually did abandon their spouses/families either for another partner or because they were perusing better opportunities

Pisces Juno natives will give a more sacrificial energy kinda like "babe I love you but I have to go, I'm sorry". There's something that stops the native from actually being there for their spouse, but this placement indicates the spouse is bound to be very forgiving because they'll see is not your fault in a way

Cancer/Capricorn Juno is an indicator of having a marriage with traditional gender roles or traditional values.

I’ve noticed Scorpio Juno natives or Scorpio ASC in the Juno PC have a marriage that REALLY rubs people the wrong way. Others could see your relationship as toxic or even predatory in nature. People believe that you landed your spouse (or vice versa) through manipulation, abuse, deceit, stalking, controlling behavior, etc. This placement also means you met when either of you were going through a hard time so there could be some case of trauma bonding here

I’ve seen that soulmate relationships tend have their Junos in the same element (most common case). Honorary mentions: Juno in opposite signs or signs ruled by the same planet

Leo Juno natives are a bit flighty and afraid of commitment. They just want a partner for the sake of the romance and feeling spoiled. They want the relationship to stay fun and playful and really dislike the sense of seriousness and "settlement" that can come with marriage sometimes

With Juno in the 7th house either you or your spouse will be in a relationship when you meet

When looking at the Juno PC, Capricorn placements/Saturn in the angels/Saturn conjunct inner planets indicates long-lasting marriage

Fixed Juno natives will have a spouse that is completely fascinated and obsessed with them. You want your spouse to worship you specially with Leo and Taurus Juno. The way your spouse will love you will boost your ego thus acting more confidently after marriage. The energy of the marriage could be a little overbearing or suffocating depending on other aspects

I've observed this in virtually all cases with Virgo Juno have a tendency to attract very inconsiderate partners that make them feel like they're not good enough (the opposite can be true). They had unsuccessful first marriage that drained the shit out of them but they eventually find someone who is very modest and nurturing

Cancer/4th house Juno natives have a VERY hard time moving on from their exes if they ever saw that person as marriage material.

From what I've seen Capricorn Juno doesn't create that much of a delay or age gap in marriage. It can of course, but in most cases these natives marry in their late 20s to their first serious bf/gf and they usually have an age difference of 2-5 years approximately. This placements I’ve seen manifests mostly as “I married my high school/collage sweetheart and we’ve been together forever” kinda scenario OR marrying someone from your past you reconnect with later in life

Scorpio, Pisces, Capricorn and Aquarius Juno indicates you'll marry your soulmate or your relationship with your fs is karmic or from a past life. You might meet your spouse after fulfilling some karmic lesson or some life milestone

Cardinal Juno/Juno in the angles tend to be very proud of their spouses or being married in general. Could be the type to be very invested in finding a life partner cause they tend to turn marriage into a very essential part of their lives and themselves

work by astrobydalia