#but I haven’t gotten around to it in part because I convinced myself ‘okay so this was a glitch I guess’

[regallibellbright]

I MIGHT have found what you were talking about regarding Kiel. It wasn't a full-blown confession, but I JUST encountered something he'd never said before wherein he heavily implied and/or started to confess. HOWEVER, it was something along the lines of "I know you already have a lover, but I also… Oops, shouldn't say that!" The line was partially voiced (and not with generic voice clips) even! I was so shocked I talked to him again hoping he'd repeat it, but he instead switched to a generic dialogue about magic. And I sadly don't know if that one line was it or if he might have continued on another day, because this triggered on literally the last day of Dylas' marriage event for me, so I immediately married the next day. I doubt Kiel would confess even if he could when you're fully married to someone else.

Do you remember if you were dating someone else when Kiel confessed?

… Holy shit. Yeah, that sounds REALLY familiar and I was dating at least Dylas and Arthur (and I think also Leon?) when that happened. Kiel confessing was ultimately why I went “yeah, okay, I’ll date all the boys, I want to do Arc Three before I get married if I can anyway,” which is why it left such a firm impression on me as A Thing That Happened. (I also am pretty sure Doug had dialogue at least indicating a crush before I did anything - I semi-think I remember he confessed first as well, but it’s nowhere near as clear to me as Kiel’s since he was the last boy to be added what with the “can’t pass a certain point until Arc Two’s done,” so I’m not sure.)

I had also gotten Kiel’s mini-event(s?) before that point (the ones that don’t span multiple days) - those, at least, have some firm evidence of existing in that Houcha’s Youtube compilations of the different love interests’ events all include at least one mini event. More of them than not have two… but not Kiel or Doug, and I could swear I saw two for both of them. (I think Doug had one taking place in the store in addition to the one on the stairs? I can’t remember a second for Kiel in detail but I feel like there was one. I definitely got the color compatibility quiz, though, and it HAS been a decade. But if I checked Youtube more thoroughly at some time that’s not 4 AM I wouldn’t be shocked if I do find second mini-events for the others.)

Seriously, up until last year I assumed this was a totally normal part of gameplay that just didn’t happen to be on any of the Youtube compilations, and I’d ultimately restarted the game at least once pre-Special hoping to see what Arthur’s would be (since his whole complex about love made me figure a reverse confession would play our VERY differently than the usual.) I figured those mini-events were probably prerequisites (and that’d explain the rarity, since they’re not required for marriage, not formal Events and therefore not really talked about, but are still subject to the wonky event RNG, and by the time you activate them both and presumably get a love interest at high enough LP they’d want to confess to you, you’d probably confessed already. Pretty sure Kiel’s LP was at least a 9 or 10.) And then I never got this after my first playthrough despite getting mini-events, even if I didn’t get quite as far in on them, so when I brought it up and the universal reaction was “… do you not mean reverse proposals?” and bafflement at my belief this was a thing, I wondered if it wasn’t a glitch.

But I’d also wondered, once I realized just how rare this clearly had to be, if maybe they only happen once you’re dating at least one other person. I figured “more than one” seemed more likely, at that, since it’d be another thing that would seriously reduce the number of players who’d ever experience this and therefore make it more plausible no one else seemed to recognize it. (And if it already requires you to date one person, the devs probably assumed you’d be more receptive to the idea of dating another if they’re at least the third, rather than the second.) Maybe it really is necessary. At least for Kiel, and I’m way more certain it happened with him than Doug. Definitely something to test for now that I’m replaying.

Thank you for this information! Seriously I had all but convinced myself I’d imagined everything. (And if the line’s voiced, I should definitely try and record things going forward like I was originally playing.)

[threadsun]

Oh !! I like that energy !! First time someone offered me a wheelchair I almost broke down !! Such fun times~

-fr i should be more positive about things, Im working on it tho, jda here-

I’ll let you keep the title just cuz you’re fun, so—

Assuming you don’t know what hollow knight is, is basically like a metroidvania game and it’s sooooo gooooood !! IM IN LOVE WITH THE GAME SINCE LIKE. Idk I think I discovered it in 2019 I think I can’t remember, BUT BUT, I had like this discussion with my sister telling her we should buy it and that I would pay for it and stuff and I finally convinced her, she liked the game, the one going crazy over it was me tho—

It’s got a ton of fun stuff and I mean a ton !!

You get lost really easily if you can’t find Cornifer to buy the map of the area but that’s the fun part !! Just exploring random places and memorizing stuff is just so nice !! ALSO THE BOSSES OOF, I love every single one of them !! Sure there are some that,,, aren’t that fun, but at the end of the day they’re still pretty enjoyable !! It’s got plenty of nice characters my fav being Quirrel whom I have a plushie of (also a plush of like the void version of the player, plus a silly drawing I made, I would buy more merch but I’m poor also I have more fandoms to attend to so— I have some merch here and there of other stuff so well that’s we’re my money goes to :]]) also also !! The name I use to sign my drawings comes form like the ship name I like from that game yes it’s gay bugs idk why they look cute ig

Okay to sum everything up or else this ask will be completed in three weeks, I love the game and the soundtrack is a banger I love it im waiting for Team Cherry’s next game so bad I’m very exited I just love hollow knight so much istg I’m not normal about that game I can count how many corpses are in the abyss I’ve played the game more than what I can count and I still haven’t gotten the 112% I’m very disappointed in myself but one day I’ll get it anyways if you have money I totally recommend getting it it’s a whole experience 10/10 would recommend okay that’s it thanks for letting me talk about the game I love it so much and I love you ok thanks again bye

Wheelchairs are so good tbh, like my stance (and the general disability studies/activism stance) is that if an accommodation makes your life better, you should use it. Doesn't matter if you could do [thing] without it, if it makes doing [thing] easier, you should use it!

Like I could just walk around with a dislocated/subluxated hip, but if I want to walk without pain then I need to use my wheelchair! The first time I ever used one was at a museum, and I realised it was the first time I'd ever enjoyed a museum cause I wasn't in horrible pain for once. After that, I started the process of getting my own wheelchair because it's so much nicer to live a life where I can focus on my surroundings without being distracted by pain!

Ooooh that sounds like lots of fun!! I know one of my friends plays it, but I've never actually seen it played. I may watch some playthroughs/streams of it or something to see if it'd be my sort of game, and if it is then I'll probably get it!! It sounds super cool from how you describe it, and I love the idea of gay bugs~

[clockworksteel]

Been noticing lately that as part of gender questioning, I seem to have a bit of a mental barrier that's located roughly around the midpoint of the spectrum of typical genders that's been a barrier to healthy experimentation (even if I'm guessing I'm nonbinary, it seems important to at least try what I can while I'm in a questioning mood). Thing is... I'm not entirely sure what the barrier is made of. Like... is it cult programming from being raised Mormon? Social programming from living in a society? Fear of what others would think? Impostor syndrome? I've just started calling it The Rubicon. This is of course a reference to R-Type Final's RX-12 Cross The Rubicon, which pushed the inclusion of Bydo in ships beyond their limits and led to the B-series such as B-1B Mad Forest. Or, you know, a reference to that whole thing with Caesar and Rome, I think it was.

Thing is... the implications are totally different depending on which reference I'm actually making. If I were to cross the barrier, would I unlock new options but still have the ability to go back and choose R-Series genders if I wanted (okay, maybe forcing the reference there), or would it truly be a point where the only way is forward due to discovering something that cannot be forgotten or ignored (is this an invasion of Rome or the Cthluhu mythos)? Of course, in R-Type Final, while the player can go back and choose other ships, I suppose in-universe humanity accepting the development of ships full of alien infestation represents a lot more.

Anyway, this post isn't about actually sorting out any of that, but about finding amusement in where, exactly, said barrier seems to be and/or just mentioning how things are going. I remarked to a friend recently that although I haven't crossed the barrier, it may have moved a bit closer to Rome at some point. Also, I'll mention The Valiey a couple times: it's the discord server associated with egg_irl (normally that I is capitalized and Discord's font make it look exactly like an l).

Voice Acceptable Activities: Collecting bookmarks related to voice training, lurking voice training discussion in The Valiey, trying to sing high parts in songs while alone (it doesn't go great, especially if I listen to myself try without the songs playing, but perhaps not as badly as one might guess), thinking about how cool it would be to be able to slip into a feminine voice during dialog as appropriate for when I'm recording Youtube videos Locked: Opening the voice training videos, which are probably badly needed if I wanted to get "Resonance" right (I've been lurking some voice training discussion and don't have a clear idea of what that is, but it's definitely not all about pitch and my pitches are probably fine if the rest of me was at all convincing)

Clothing Acceptable: Picking up an oversized T-shirt (by 2 sizes) at Wal-Mart and wearing it late at night and to bed, already owning some rainbow striped socks that go up to around the knees, thinking about getting taller socks (probably the next thing I'll actually do but haven't gotten around do it so just thinking for now), wondering where the measuring tape got to in case I need some measurements to use with size charts like for a skirt, imagining having a skirt, planning on getting a pair of more feminine glasses next time I routinely get glasses (I get 2 pairs at a time with my vision plan) Locked: Going through with buying a skirt or dress

Video Games (general) Acceptable: Choosing female characters a lot. I've already mentioned this. Locked: Naming a female character "Clyceer". This one might be because of a particular discussion where within a group of friends about an OC named Clyceer that by that point was half self-insert and half somebody-else-inserted-me. He had transformation powers but it was decided they'd only be used in cis ways. I guess I call it a discussion but really it was "I asked the only girl in the group if they'd be comfortable with him having female forms and she said no." This probably happened back when I was in high school.

Visual Novels Acceptable: Taking an interest in any visual novel my housemate plays. Locked: Playing otome games personally (Or maybe it's just that I already pretty much know what happens on most of the ones we own? I only caught a couple routes from Cafe Enchante though, mostly just that nerd Angel's actually).

Telling people I'm questioning my gender Acceptable: Shouting into the void that is tumblr. Joining The Valiey and introducing myself as questioning and setting my pronouns on that server to just they/their/them rather than having it be after "he/his/him or" like on Tumblr and Youtube. Locked: Telling my nonbinary housemate that I'm questioning. I don't think they've seen any of the tumblr posts, but they probably know something by now. I've mentioned The Valiey (but not what it is) and pointed out funny stuff like someone painting the trans flag on a virtual car and someone else joking that it can now double jump (Celeste reference). Plus they know about the oversized shirt and the rainbow socks of course. Also, people who are definitely cis probably don't suddenly mention Blahaj (the IKEA shark) a few times within the space of a week. Of all the mental barriers this one is probably the silliest. Super Double Locked: Telling any family members I'm questioning. Now this one is just reasonable.

Hair Actually, I think I'm just lazy about this. I'd absolutely remove all the arm/leg/chin/neck hair if it was easy and wouldn't be super uncomfortable after a couple days. Maybe it makes sense to wait until after winter before trying anything at this point though. Already almost officially fall. I think I've been doing the regular shaving a bit more frequently though. I guess I'm not sure of actually growing the top-of-head hair out ever. I visit my parents too often for it to be a thing I could just try.

Makeup Actually, due to sensory integration disfunction, this just seems unpleasant no matter what I realize about gender. Maybe if truly necessary I'd try something.

Other notes unrelated to the main subject of the post:

I've also saved some exercises that were shared alongside some transfem memes and have tried them, although I probably need something easier for the lower torso area. Still, the idea that I could make my build even slightly more feminine through exercise is oddly motivating.

I started developing a habit of crossing my legs (at the ankles) and have a couple bookmarks for reddit threads where other habits were being discussed (or at least asked about: I'll have to check back to see if there's substance)

Lately I've also just felt more motivated to do things around the house. The dishes have been more routinely getting done and other things have been getting cleaned up.

I hope R-Type Final 2 goes on a good sale soon. I also like that the only links in the post are to the R-Type wiki. I am, in fact, still a gamer.

How'd 1.5 hours pass just now? Did I really spend that long on this? It's bedtime.

[antixsocialthoughts]

Haven’t said anything here since… November 26th last year, good god. Well, update. I got a new phone a while back, and it’s the 14 plus. Better than I had even asked for.

I haven’t been starving myself much lately, but not for a lack of trying. I still worry about my weight and hate the way I look, but I’ve been too tired to do much about it. I take walks for up to an hour a few times a week, but I’m eating too much for it to really make a difference. I have just gotten back into looking for restricting diets, which I know isn’t good, but who pays attention to trigger warnings? I blame derby for this one. It’s made me pay attention to my weight for years, whereas I never really had to in any other sports. Derby is competitive, and is centered around weight placement. Of course it’s gonna be a problem after being in it for ten years. Weighing in at every race, hearing about every pound you lose or gain, having your car set up perfectly and then needing to change things because you ate too much at dinner…. Off seasons are a fucking blessing, if you ask me.

On a different note, the cutting never really stopped. I’ve been doing it for more than a year, but less frequently than I was a few months ago. It’s not a conscious effort on my part, though. It’s kinda like I’m just…losing my appetite? I don’t know how else to put it. I don’t want to quit. I want someone to look at me and just say something, ask me questions, care that I’m clearly hiding things. I want to see the cuts and look at the scars, and know that yesterdays emotions were and still are valid. I want to keep the one habit that lets me express myself when journaling doesn’t cut it. I want to see how bad it is, and not just think it. When I cut, I’m simultaneously convincing myself that I’m not okay, and that I am okay. No one asks me anything, and I don’t say much. I don’t hear comforting words from anyone, so I comfort myself. I 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 myself. It may seem like I’m doing better, but I’m not. I still want to cut, I think about it every day, and there’s no one stopping me. I have more than thirty blades kept in a lockbox, and I’ve been carrying around three inside my phone case for months. I’ve made this my support system, and I rely on it. I do it because it’s the only thing I’ve got, and it’s there when no one else is. How could I get rid of that?

[minileena-sfw]

Zookeeper - part 9

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CW: Manipulation

“Do they fit okay?” I asked as Layna tugged at the hem of the skirt I had gotten for her.

“Aside from being a little bit stiff around the waist? Yeah, these are perfect,” she said, glancing down and admiring her new outfit.

“I… you’re gonna make fun of me when I say this, but… the reason the waist is stiff is because a significant portion of it is hot glue..?”

Layna looked back up at me with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. “You, uh… made this skirt with hot glue?”

“I’m not a seamstress, okay?” I huffed, a smile of my own tugging at the corners of my lips. “I fucked up some of the stitches, so I kinda just…”

“…glued it together,” Layna chuckled. “You’d get along really well with my sister.”

My brows furrowed. “Your sister?”

“Yeah,” Layna said. “Sierra. A year younger than me, so… your age I guess. She was… gosh, how do I put this delicately? …not the most fashion-inclined person?”

My fingers tapped against my thighs in my discomfort. “So, um… this was before…”

“Before I ended up here, yeah,” she said. “Haven’t seen her since… uh, anyways. So, you really just straight-up ignored your manager’s denial? You said they didn’t want me wearing clothes, right?”

“I, um… w-well, yeah, but that’s only when the zoo is open.”

“Ohhh, I get it,” Layna nodded. “I can only wear ‘em during our little visits.”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I know it’s not much, but—“

“Evelyn,” Layna said with a smile across her face. “This is more than enough. I told you, the little things mean a lot more than you think. Plus… this outfit is kinda cute. When you ignore the glue, anyway.”

I glanced down and smiled at my handiwork. It was just a plain black skirt and a loose, baggy top with an undershirt beneath. I didn’t have the abilities to make anything better than that. Plus, I didn’t have her exact measurements, and I was certain that Layna would be averse to the idea of me bringing in a tape measure.

“Maybe next time I could bring you some scrap fabric and thread?” I offered. “Then you could make your own clothes. Probably after-hours so Bonnie doesn’t get on my ass about letting you do that, but… oh! Right, uh, by the way, you gotta keep those clothes hidden. I was thinking you could stuff them under your bed before you go to sleep, then put them back on when I come in?”

Layna nodded. “That’s fine. And, I mean… If it’s not too much trouble, I have definitely missed sewing and would love to start working on another textile project. I’ll hide that in the day too, obviously.”

I smiled. It wasn’t nearly enough, but… I was helping. Just a little bit. I was making her happier in this hell she had to endure.

“Uhm, one more thing,” I blurted as I opened up a tupperware I had been carrying in my bag. I took the napkin with the sliced strawberry on top of it and placed them in the tank, waiting for Layna to grab the fruit before lifting and disposing of the little piece of paper towel. “This is really your favourite food? I could’ve brought you, like, chocolate, too.”

Layna pursed her lips at the sight of the fruit slice, eyes wide as she stared at it with thinly-veiled hunger. “I mean, it’s not like I would refuse it, but… holy fuck, I’ve been thinking about finally getting to eat a strawberry again for years.”

I smiled to myself as she started eating the fruit.

“Any more requests for tomorrow?” I asked.

“Hoo boy. Okay, this one might be hard to convince the higher-ups of,” she said with a smirk. She pointedly held a hand up to her breast-length hair, then combed her fingers through it.

Her hand immediately got stuck in a web of tangles.

“Ah. I see,” I said with a smirk. “Hairbrush, then? I don’t see why my boss would take issue with that.”

“Uh… well, they probably wouldn’t,” Layna said with a grimace. “Unfortunately, what I’m actually asking for is a clean shave.” Her hand combed through her hair again—or, it tried to, at least. “You really think I could salvage this with a brush?”

I pursed my lips. “I… I think I could make that happen.”

The parvinnet cocked an eyebrow. “You think so? I thought it would be impossible to convince them to fuck up their pretty little star attraction’s look.”

I set my jaw at the comment. A few days ago I probably wouldn’t have even balked at that, but… shit, Layna really is a woman being kept in a glass cage to be admired by strangers.

“I’ll make it happen,” I promised with a strong sense of determination and resolve.

Later that night, my mind kept lingering on how absolutely twisted Layna’s situation was.

She didn’t deserve to be there.

She didn’t deserve to be in a cage.

She deserved to be free.

And I was the only one who could make it happen.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

That night, I wondered to myself whether I would ever be able to truly have a real friendship with Evelyn.

Today had gone so horribly well. The human fell into every social and verbal pitfall I had set for her. Antagonizing her superiors, teasing her in light, fun ways, brigning up my sister—who was, in fact, TWO years younger than me and NOT the same age as Evelyn—to seed resentment towards her bosses… fuck, it all worked so goddamn perfectly. I hated it so fucking much. How good I was getting at saying the right things at the right times in the right tones to elicit the right reactions.

I wish I was human. Maybe that way, Evelyn could’ve been my friend.

Instead, I started planning further with my tool.

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[gay-kurapika]

A thing about me is that I let people take things way too far in terms of how badly I let them treat me and then when I do finally stand up for myself I sound like the craziest bitch alive for flipping out about something small when in reality there’s been a mountain of things that led to that tipping point. Like I sound crazy to myself when I try to explain what happened with Jayne sometimes, but like I’m the only person who was actually in that exact situation and knows exactly what happened. I’m dead fucking serious when I say I literally don’t feel like the same person I was before I met her, and absolutely not in a good way. I lost all sense of self identity trying to please her, because her moods changed all the time and I was so desperate to please her because I was convinced we were friends. I remember being passionate about things and I still haven’t recovered that about myself, I almost never feel passionate about anything anymore. I think of things she said or did to me every day. I internalized this constant stream of hatred for myself because she was always telling me how much people would be disgusted with me if they really knew me. I had been excited to move into my new house and she ruined every part of it for me. Everything that was mine got thrown away, she got more pets than I ever wanted, physically altered the house in very expensive ways, changed locations of every item all the time so I never knew where anything was, talked down her rent share by hundreds of dollars and eventually stopped paying it at all, ate all the food I would buy to the point that I was losing weight because there wasn’t anything I could eat, like it went on and on. She convinced me that my family didn’t love me, that my girlfriend at the time didn’t love me, that my coworkers all hated me. Literally these were all things she said to me! And so of course, on the night everything blew up, of course I sounded crazy. Of course I did. Because the argument started when I said I didn’t want to watch a reality tv show with her or go on a walk with her after I had gotten off of work because I was tired, and I said she could leave the garbage she wanted me to take out next to the door and I would take it out tomorrow morning before I left for work. After she had been sitting at home drunk off her ass literally all day, not contributing to rent or bills, not working, while I was trying to recover from my addiction and literally just wanted to watch tv after a 10 hour shift. I know I sounded crazy, I’m well aware that’s why the police report resulted in me getting arrested, but goddamn motherfucking hell it had been hours of her yelling at me, of course I was crying! It had been two years of her abuse, of course I had a low opinion of myself! Of course I did! I challenge any one of those fucking cops that were there that day to live two years with that woman, I’m fucking traumatized from her emotional abuse! She did drive me crazy, the literal night this happened she was telling me someday she’d walk in on me dead because that was the only end she could see for me, she was suicide baiting me that whole night! How was I supposed to be put together and rational! At one point I was on my hands and knees cleaning up broken dishes and food she had thrown around the kitchen because I was scared my cat would accidentally step on the broken glass or that her dog would try to eat the food and get sick. While she stood above me yelling. I was at a point okay? And still all I did was flat palm push her away from me, she punched me in the chest and pushed me into a wall in retaliation, did she face anything for that? Nope!

[thewidowsghost]

Shy (Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Fem!Reader)

Anon asked:

May I request you writing a fic where Wanda Maximoff trains a new shy avenger who doesn’t laugh a lot and Wanda accidentally finds out that the reader is EXTREMELY ticklish and she thinks it’s very funny and she pins him/her down and tickles the reader to get him/her to laugh and open up to her?

This was so much fun to write!

Thanks to all of you guys who've recently sent in requests!

(Y/n) Stark had to be the shiest person any of the Avengers had ever met, and that hadn't changed when the young woman had joined the Avengers.

Now, the youngest Stark is nothing like her father. Where Tony was loud and obnoxious, (Y/n) is shy and not once had anyone, not even her mother, Pepper, nor her father had once heard (Y/n) laugh.

The young Avenger had only smiled in the presence of someone that wasn't her parents added up to a grand total of three times, and they had all been directed by her godmother Natasha. Once was because Natasha had gotten (Y/n) the exact gift she'd wanted without telling the former assassin. The second has been when (Y/n) was five and she'd left her favorite bear at her parent's house, and Natasha had taken (Y/n) to Build-A-Bear to make a new bear. The third had been the time when (Y/n) was sick - Tony and Pepper were at work like always - and Natasha is tasked with caring for the youngest Stark; Natasha had snuggled with her goddaughter, bring forth the third and last smile Natasha had seen from the girl, a grateful, loving smile that had Natasha cuddling (Y/n) closer.

Then Wanda Maximoff had entered the picture.

At first, (Y/n) had treated the newest Avenger with the same attitude as the other, but after a month or so, (Y/n) had warmed up to the witch.

The two young women are having their twice-a-week movie night when Wanda brushes (Y/n)'s side with a hand as she reaches for the bowl of popcorn.

"I'm sorry!" Wanda says hastily but smiles slightly when she catches (Y/n)'s lips quirks into the slightest smile and she hears the soft giggle escape them. "Oh, the quietest Avenger is ticklish?" Wanda teases, wiggling her fingers playfully.

"No, no I'm not," (Y/n) protests, her slight smile still betraying her.

Wanda grins, tackles (Y/n), and digs her fingers into (Y/n)'s ribs.

"W-wan-nda-a!" (Y/n) laughs, unable to stop herself. "S-st-to-op!" she exclaims, still laughs hysterically.

The door to (Y/n)'s room slams open and five Avengers and a mother are framed in the doorway, staring dumbfounded at the scene in front of them: Wanda straddling (Y/n)'s waist, fingers still dug into (Y/n)'s ribs, and, possibly the strangest part of the situation is the fact that (Y/n) is still laughing.

"I thought someone had died," Pepper says softly.

"This might be stranger though," Tony continues, just as soft as his wife, the six backing out of the room, silently closing the door behind them.

Wanda, still grinning, settles back down on the bed beside (Y/n), and (Y/n) sits up, her cheeks still red.

"Do I win a prize?" Wanda asks teasingly.

"What would you like?" (Y/n) asks, a soft smile creeping onto her face.

"Why do you never smile or laugh?" Wanda asks, turning to study (Y/n) closely.

(Y/n) silently considers the question, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. Then she speaks, "I guess it's because my parents were always at work when I was younger, and I was always left with Nat. Don't get me wrong, I love Natasha, but sometimes I just want to spend time with them. They were just always gone."

Wanda replies curiously, "Why didn't you just tell them?"

"I'm shy, I guess that played a part in it," (Y/n) pauses. "But I guess it's also the fact that I didn't want to disappoint them."

"(Y/n), you're not disappointing anyone, not now, not ever," Wanda says fiercely. "They want what's best for you - making sure you have everything you could ever want."

"Wanda, I-I," (Y/n) falters, notice the emotion behind the witch's words. "Thank you," (Y/n) finally settles with, turning back towards the TV.

(Y/n) leans against Wanda slightly, the popcorn bowl resting in (Y/n)'s lap. The youngest Stark is feeling a lot better with all that she'd told Wanda off her chest.

The next morning, (Y/n) wakes up, determined to make today a good day.

(Y/n) is the first one downstairs, and she's the one who makes breakfast - waffles, pancakes, sausage, bacon, and sliced fruit.

(Y/n) greets Natasha with a warm hug and a stack of waffles with sliced strawberries on top, and the former assassin smiles, (Y/n) returns the smile shyly.

(Y/n) greets the remainder of the Avengers with shy, nervous smiles, and their choice of breakfast.

The atmosphere is a lot more relaxed this morning, (Y/n) thinks as she sits down beside Wanda, and when the witch smiles warmly, (Y/n) returns it.

Wanda is helping (Y/n) clean up the breakfast dishes, the other Avengers having moved into the training room when Wanda turns to ask (Y/n) a question. "(Y/n)?" (Y/n) turns to meet Wanda's gaze. "Would you want to, maybe, only if you want to," Wanda falters as if she's nervous, and (Y/n) smiles reassuringly at the witch. "Would you like to go out with me? It's okay if you don't want to," Wanda asks hastily. "It's up -"

"Wanda!" (Y/n) interupts. "Wanda, I'd love to go out with you."

"Wait, really?" Wanda asks, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Wanda, you helped bring out a side of myself that even I've never seen before, that was all you," (Y/n) says. "Talking about the thing we talked out yesterday, or," (Y/n) cracks the slightest smiles, "what you forced out of me yesterday, made me realize that, despite what I thought, my parents to want me around."

"I'll pick you up in the lobby at 5'o'clock?" Wanda asks and (Y/n) nods.

"See you soon," (Y/n) says, placing a soft kiss on Wanda's cheek.

At 5'o'clock, (Y/n) and Wanda meet in the lobby of the Compound.

"You look really nice," Wanda tells (Y/n), and the young Stark flushes. (Y/n) is wearing a pair of dark jeans, a mint green t-shirt, a dark green leather jacket that must've belonged to Natasha, and a pair of black tennis shoes.

"I-I, wow," is (Y/n)'s response as she gazes at Wanda. The witch is wearing a black dress with a red leather jacket, and a pair of black, knee-high leather boots.

Wanda chuckles taking (Y/n)'s hand gently in her own before she leads the Stark out to a waiting car - a familiar black Corvette Stingray.

Wanda opens one of the back doors and (Y/n) slides into the car.

"Hello, Miss Stark, Miss Maximoff," says Natasha Romanoff, who Wanda had recruited - not that it took a lot of convincing - to be their chauffeur for the night.

"Oh, hi Nattie," (Y/n) greets her godmother.

Natasha smiles at the girl before she starts the car, driving to their destination.

"This is beautiful," (Y/n murmurs, gazing at all the light strung through the gazebo. "And how'd you figure out all my favorite foods - paprikash, roasted potatoes; beef stroganoff," albeit an interesting assortment of food. "Nattie used to make me a ton of eastern European and Russian dishes when I was younger. You use your powers?"

"I like to ask permission when I use them. I took a guess, and well, Nat helped me a little," Wanda admits. "I also went with a few of my own favorites."

(Y/n)'s phone dings partway through the dinner, and (Y/n) glances apologetically at Wanda before she glances down at the phone beside her plate at the table.

"It's Nattie," (Y/n) says.

Nattie: How's it going 😀 ❤️ Having fun?

Me: Haha ❤️ You've been in on this all day and you haven't told me 🥺 ❤️

(Y/n) glances over to the car and smiles at her godmother, who smiles lovingly in return.

A sleepy (Y/n) rests against Wanda on the quiet ride back to the Compound; Wanda smiles, her green eyes sparkling.

Wanda sends Natasha a grateful smile and walks (Y/n) up to her room.

"I had a really nice time," (Y/n) says with a sleepy smile. "Can we do something tomorrow? Maybe see a movie?"

"I'd love to," Wanda beams.

Word Count: 1323 words

Taglist:

@theofficialzivadavid

@mariawilson24

@procrastinatingsapphictrash

@marsromanoff

@rail-me-romanoff

@okiedokie4

@fayhar

@acertainredhead

@capsicle118

[the-cult-of-russo]

I Miss You

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request: idk if you’re taking request but i have a Billy x reader imagine where the reader is being super clingy and Billy tells one of his friends.The reader eavesdrop on that conversation and decides to distant herself from Billy.

A/N: I wasn't really sure what resolution you wanted for this one so this was what I came up with. I could have gone really angsty about it but I don't know, I liked this one.

Warnings: cursing, angst, fluff. 

----------

"Yeah, man… I don't know. It's just a bit much… I mean, she's always here or on the phone with me… I dunno… she's just… clingy, I guess."

You knew you shouldn't really be eavesdropping but you hadn't intended on it. Both you and Billy had been tangled naked in his bed after some good sex when his phone started to ring. He'd slipped into the living area to answer it. You'd only gotten up because your bladder was shouting at you but as you'd slipped on his shirt and gone to the bedroom door, you'd caught the end of the conversation. 

It honestly felt like a smack in the face. You were pissed and hurt that instead of talking to you about it like an adult, he instead opted to bitch about you to a friend, no doubt Frank. You weren't in a relationship, it was just casual sex and it had been for a good few months now. You weren't expecting anything else from him. And sure, sometimes you'd find yourself at his place a few nights in a row after work and sure you'd send him texts during the day or call. But never once had he acted like it was an issue. In fact he always sounded happy to pick up the phone and sometimes he was the one insisting you stay the night. 

It wasn't like you wanted a relationship with him. You went into this knowing what it was. You didn't love him. You liked him, both looks and personality, but you didn't love him. It could be easy to fall in love with a man like him but you hadn't let yourself. But things had just been natural with the pair of you. Easy. A casual intimacy neither of you expected but didn't seem to mind. Except he clearly did mind it. 

You weren't even that upset that he felt that way. He was entitled to his opinions and feelings and you wouldn't take that away from him. The last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable or feel smothered. What bothered you was how he never once made it known and was going behind your back saying things like that. It made you feel small. It made you feel stupid like some young girl with an unrequited crush.

You rushed to get dressed and decided you'd leave, bladder forgotten. If he wanted distance then that's what he'd get. You weren't going to stick around to be made a fool of like this. He obviously wasn't happy with how you were so you'd remove yourself from the situation. 

Just as you were slinging on your jacket, Billy came into the room only in his boxers and quirked a brow at you.

"Goin' somewhere?" He asked, sounding vaguely amused. His laid back attitude made your eye twitch after hearing what he'd said on the phone. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna head home. I've got work early tomorrow," you said casually, closing your jacket. 

"Oh…" he murmured, brows wrinkled. Yeah, didn't expect that did you, Russo?

You gave him a bland smile, squeezing his arm before walking out. You didn't really want him to know you'd heard him and have to deal with that awkward talk but you didn't much feel like kissing his cheek goodbye like you normally did. He'd normally walk you to the door and you'd kiss his cheek, then he'd capture your lips as you traded lazy kisses at the door before you left. Well not this time. Instead you left the apartment and left a stunned Billy Russo standing in his bedroom blinking at the door. 

You threw yourself into work. It was something to help distract you from contacting Billy. You wouldn't say you were clingy but you had gotten used to talking to him daily and you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right. You'd give him the distance he wanted. 

You hadn't text or called him and when three days went by, he'd surprised you with a text at work. 

'Just wanted to check in and see if you're okay. Haven't heard from you in a bit.' 

Your right eye twitched again at his message. This was what he wanted so why bother reaching out? You shot him a short message back along the lines of 'I'm fine. Busy at work.' And that was that. He didn't reply and you didn't really care that much.

The fourth day since you hadn't spoken to him and he called your cell around noon when he knew you'd be on lunch. Your hand flexed with the urge to answer but you resisted. You stayed firm even after it rang a second time. But then it flashed up with a voicemail and you couldn't help being intrigued so you listened to it.

"Hey… uh… I guess you're still busy with work. I just… wanted to make sure you're okay. Hope you're not workin' yourself too hard. Just… call me back or somethin', yeah?"

You rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw. This was what he wanted yet he was contacting you. You hated that you itched to call him back but you still refused. Maybe you were stubborn or maybe you still felt slighted by his words to his friend, either way you didn't call him back. Even if you did miss him just a bit.

The fifth day came around and you were exhausted. You'd hadn't lied when you told him you'd been busy with work but you'd made more work for yourself to keep busy. Not only were you doing your own but you'd been helping others out too just to stay busy and keep your head Billy-free. You'd stayed late the night before and then came in early and you hadn't given yourself a chance to grab a coffee. 

You sat behind your desk as you read an email from a colleague as your office door knocked around noon.

"It's open," you called out as you scribbled a note in your notepad for later. You glanced up when the door opened and were stunned to see Billy standing there with a paper bag and two coffees in a cup holder.

"Hey," he smiled at you. You blinked at him for a second as he shut the door behind him. He'd never once shown up at work before.

"Hey," you replied feeling tense. He hovered for a moment, still clutching what you presumed to be food with the drinks as his dark eyes scanned your tired face.

"I just uh… I know you've been workin' hard these past few days. Wanted to bring you some lunch, make sure you're takin' care of yourself," he murmured with a frown. 

"Careful, Russo. Anyone would think you care," you scoffed with an eye roll. You hadn't really meant to say it outloud but didn't care too much that you did either. He looked taken aback for a moment before he nodded, setting the bag and cups down as he sat in the chair on the other side of your desk.

"So I did do somethin' to piss you off, then… thought I mighta done. Haven't heard from you in days. It's not like you," he said with a bitter smile. 

"Yeah, because I'm clingy, right?" You asked coldly, raising a brow. 

He looked genuinely shocked before he groaned, closing his eyes and wiping a hand over his face.

"You heard that… you… you weren't supposed to hear that," he muttered regretfully. 

"That doesn't make it much better, Billy," you squinted. He blew out a sigh and leaned his forearms on your desk as his dark gaze looked right at you. 

"I'm sorry, I-" he started, but you held your hands up to stop him and he shut his mouth abruptly.

"Look… I'm not upset you felt that way. I'm upset you didn't tell me. I didn't think I was being clingy. You never acted like it was an issue for me to be around so much or to text or call so how can I know it bothers you? I'm upset I had to find out by hearing you bitch about me behind my back to a friend like a goddamn child," you bit out, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him. He winced a little, drumming his long fingers on the desk before rolling his shoulders.

"It doesn't�� bother me," his vague words earned him a squint from you and he sighed, sitting back up a little more.

"I freaked out… I freaked out 'cause I didn't freak out," he murmured looking confused. Your face resembled the words 'the fuck does that mean' and he rested his forearms back on the desk. He looked frustrated like he couldn't put his thoughts into words.

"This isn't how I usually do things. I'm a one and done kinda guy… unless I'm gettin' somethin' outta it like information or some shit. I don't … I don't usually go back to a girl. But you just… I had you once and I knew it wasn't enough. I wanted more. And… and I liked havin' you stay over so much and I liked your weird little texts in the day or havin' you call me to see how my day went. I didn't mind it. It didn't bother me. It wasn't too much. So me bein' me… I got in my own head and freaked out about it. I tried to convince myself it was you, that you were bein' clingy and needy, but you weren't. And… if these past five days have taught me anything it's that… I like you bein' such a big part of my life and… fuck, I missed you," he rambled, almost black eyes looking at you imploringly. 

You glanced down to the desk as you soaked in his words. You really hadn't expected any of them and you found your anger at him disappearing. When you just stared at the desk lost in your own thoughts and didn't reply, his fingers tapped on the desk again as he inhaled a shaky breath. 

"Did you miss me?" His soft and unsure voice had your eyes snapping to him. He looked so insecure you wondered for a moment who the hell he was because Billy Russo was a lot of things, but insecure was never one of them. And you knew him well enough by now to know what a big deal it was that he spoke to you about his feelings. Feelings he had that you never expected.

"Of course I missed you, asshole," you said softly. His whole face lit up, deep brown eyes shining with warmth as his lips curled into a genuine smile.

"Yeah?" He asked wryly. You rolled your eyes, playfully this time, as you leaned forward on your desk. He wasted no time in snatching one of your hands in his.

"Yeah," you said with a smile. He bit his lower lip, a somewhat bashful smile on his own face as he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss to it. You almost melted.

"I don't… I don't know what this is but… I know it's different and I don't wanna push you away," he murmured softly as his thumb rubbed your palm. 

"No more bitching about me to your friends then," you smirked. He chuckled, ducking his head before landing his soft gaze on you once more.

"I mean it though, Billy. You need to talk to me next time. I don't wanna do anything to make you uncomfortable and if you don't wanna push me away… you need to learn to communicate," you said softly. He nodded, squeezing your hand. 

"I know. I'll do better, I promise," he grinned. 

The whole thing had taken a turn you hadn't expected but you were glad for it. It wasn't like you declared your undying love for one another or even decided this was an actual relationship. But it was a step. One you hadn't expected either of you to make. 

"So… you gonna let me have lunch with you? I know you're busy but… I really have missed you," how could you turn him down when he was looking at you with such soft and warm eyes? 

You smiled, grabbing the bag and making a little happy noise to see burgers from the diner you two frequented. He practically beamed, whether from you agreeing to let him have lunch with you or how happy you were by the food choice, you weren't sure. But you loved it when he smiled like that, how his eyes crinkled a little in the corner. He was breathtaking honestly and you found yourself glad he'd hunted you down at work and told you how he felt instead of pushing you away or lying to himself. If that wasn't character progression you didn't know what was  

[marauders-venting]

I Love You

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 2304

note: based on a textpost by @moonyspadfoot45

a/n: yes i know disposable cameras didn’t exist until the mid 80s but i wrote that part before i googled it and i don’t want to change it so we’re gonna go with it

Remus sighed in the direction of the stack of boxes that looked like it was about to topple over.

“Sirius?” he called, walking into the living room.

“Yeah?” Sirius replied, peering at Remus around the stack of boxes from the couch where he was sitting.

“I swear to god if you and James used any of the boxes marked ‘fragile’ for your fortress…” He left the sentence hanging as he reached up to lower the box on the top. “How did you even manage to stack the boxes that high? Did you have to stand on a chair or something to reach up here?”

“Rude,” Sirius said, coming around to Remus’ side of the fort. “I’m not that short.”

“James had to do it, didn’t he?” Remus teased, turning around.

“Moony, stop making fun of me,” Sirius pouted. “Come on, we’re going into the fort.” The ‘fort’ was made of boxes that contained all of Sirius and Remus’ possessions stacked to form walls with a sheet stretched over the top. And it was right in the middle of the living room of Remus and Sirius’ new apartment.

Sirius grabbed Remus by the hand and pulled him into the fort. The sheet, which was their makeshift ceiling, was hanging so low that even Sirius had to sit on the floor. They sat down and Remus looked around. Then he spotted a box labelled ‘kitchen ware’ and turned to Sirius.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he said. “I was looking for that box for like an hour! I nearly called the movers to ask them to double-check that they hadn’t missed any boxes!”

“I didn’t know you were looking for it!” Sirius said defensively.

“I literally asked you if you’d seen the box!” Remus said, laughing and shaking his head.

“Uhhh,” Sirius started, scrambling for an excuse, “I’m sorry, Remus, but you should know by now that I answer most questions wrong.”

“That is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard,” Remus said.

“Then you obviously haven’t heard any of the excuses I gave McGonagall for breaking the rules,” Sirius said.

“What are you talking about, I was there 90 percent of the time,” Remus said.

“Yeah but when you were there you were giving the excuses.”

“Yeah, my excuses were good, they got us out of detention,” Remus said.

“Feels weird knowing I’ll never have another detention,” Sirius said, lying down on the carpet he and James had brought into the fort earlier. “I keep thinking we’re gonna go back at the end of the summer.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Remus said, lying down next to him. “It feels like just yesterday you were asking me to move it with you and now we’re here. In our living room. In a fucking fort.” Sirius laughed and kissed Remus lightly.

Remus remembered the day Sirius had asked him to move in. He’d never forget it. It was their first anniversary and they were up on the astronomy tower, the same place they’d gotten together the year before. Remus remembered how hard he was trying to put aside his anxiety about the upcoming exams just for that day. Sirius made it easier. Sirius made everything easier.

“Can I give you my present now?” Sirius asked. Remus had felt his cheeks heating, despite the fact that he was quite cold up on the tower, in the cool breeze stinging his face.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he muttered.

“I know,” Sirius said. “But I wanted to. Besides, you were the one who planned out this whole day. And you're the one who’s taking me out on the Hogsmeade weekend after exams.” Remus supposed it was true. He had planned out the day down to the last detail. He felt very cliche doing it but it was worth it to see the look on Sirius’ face. And to feel Sirius’ lips on his.

“Oh alright,” Remus gave in. He was curious now. Sirius handed him a small grey box. Remus cocked his head at him but Sirius’ expression was unreadable. He opened the box and inside it was a silver key and a disposable Muggle camera. Remus picked up the key and turned it over, examining it.

“Pads, what is this?” he asked finally. He was afraid he had ruined something. That this was something sentimental that he was supposed to understand.

“It’s a key,” Sirius said. Remus rolled his eyes.

“I’d figured that much out myself, funnily enough,” he said. “What is the key to?”

“Look at the camera.” Remus did. He picked it up and, glancing at Sirius to make sure this is what he was meant to do, looked through the photos in the camera.

“An apartment?” Remus said, still confused.

“Our apartment,” Sirius said. He was looking at Remus, his grey eyes alight.

“What?” Remus said, gaping at him.

“Only if you want it to be,” he added hurriedly. “I just thought… Everybody's been talking about living arrangements after school and I–I thought maybe you might like to live together. I mean, I haven’t finalised anything yet so we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Or we could still pick a different place. The owner’s of this one won’t vacate it until August so we’d have to figure something out for the first month and a bit after we graduate but I’m sure the Potters won’t mind if we stay there for a little while. And Lily and James might want to be alone in the beginning but I doubt they’d kick us out if we showed up but… do you hate it?” He had barely breathed in between words until now. He looked up at Remus nervously, biting his nail.

“Are you kidding me? I love it,” Remus said. “Sirius, this is… this is incredible. You’re incredible. I—” Remus hesitated. He knew what he wanted to say. But he couldn’t form the words. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“So you’re saying you’ll do it?” Sirius asked. “You’ll move in with me?”

“Yeah,” Remus said. “Yes, of course I will.” Sirius beamed at him. But then something occurred to Remus. “Sirius, you haven’t paid anything yet, have you? If you have I’ll pay you back, I—”

“Shh, don’t worry about that now,” Sirius said. “We’ll figure out all the technical details later.” Remus bit his lip.

“Okay,” he said. He could put it out of his mind for that night.

“Happy anniversary, Moony,” he said. And then he kissed Remus, there on top of the astronomy tower and Remus felt just as much excitement then as he had when Sirius had kissed him there for the first time, exactly one year previously.

And here they were now. In their apartment. They ended up deciding on the one Sirius had originally chosen, the one that he’d shown Remus photos of that evening. The owners had ended up vacating a bit earlier than they had said because there was still a week until August. Sirius had stayed at the Potter’s for the first few weeks and Remus had gone back home. But as they were spending every waking moment at Lily and James’ house anyway, they suggested that Remus and Sirius just stay with them. They had invited Peter to stay with them too, just while Sirius and Remus were there but he’d turned down the offer (“After seven years of sleeping in the same room with three other blokes, I think I’ll be good on my own for a while,” he had said). He still came over every day and stayed until around midnight but he always preferred to sleep at home. He said he’d never get used to it if he stayed at Lily and James’.

James, Peter and Lily helped them move in too. They’d been with them to Ikea a few days previously to buy furniture. And they had come over today to help start unpacking things. Well, Lily and Peter helped unpack. James was more interested in building a fort out of the boxes with Sirius.

Remus remembered worrying that he might spend less time with his friends after school since they’d no longer be living in the same big castle but so far the amount of time he spent with Lily, James and Peter had not decreased even a little.

But Lily and James had gone home now and Peter had gone back to his studio flat; Remus and Sirius were alone, together in their new apartment.

“Are you hungry?” Sirius asked, snapping Remus back into reality. “I could make you dinner.”

“You’re going to make dinner?” Remus snorted. “I’m sorry but have you ever made food in your entire life?”

“I have actually,” Sirius said. “Mrs Potter taught me how to make food when I lived there. I’m not as good at it as James is but I can make something edible without burning down the kitchen. Although I nearly did that the first time I tried to make food.”

“Well, that’s very convincing,” Remus said sarcastically. Sirius elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m kidding!” he said. “I’ll be on standby with the fire extinguisher.”

“What’s that?” Sirius asked.

“Kind of in the name, babe,” Remus said and then he crawled quickly out of the fort before Sirius figured it out and elbowed him again.

But Remus was pleasantly surprised because not only did Sirius manage to not light the whole house on fire, but he even produced some pretty good food.

“You know, this is quite nice,” Remus said, taking another bite. “Mrs Potter must be a really good teacher if she managed to get you to this level of cooking.”

“Why can’t you just have a little bit more faith in my talents, Moony?” Sirius said. “But yeah, she’s a great teacher. James, on the other hand, is a terrible teacher. It’s not that he can’t cook because he can. He just can’t teach other people to cook. But don’t tell him I said that.” Remus snorts.

“As if you haven’t already told him that to his face.”

“You know me too well,” Sirius sighs.

After dinner, Sirius goes to shower and Remus continues unpacking boxes. The more boxes he unpacks, the more he realises how much crap they’re missing. But he’s not too worried about it. They’ll go to the store tomorrow and find whatever it is that they’re missing. It’s nothing essential. The only essential thing to Remus in this house is Sirius. As long as Sirius is here, Remus would be fine.

Remus opens another box with a utility knife. He looks inside and his jaw drops.

“Rem?” Sirius asks, coming into the room, his hair still wet from the shower. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus says. “Look at this.” He takes out the contents of the box and sets them on the table. It’s photos. Loads of photos of them from school.

“Wow,” Sirius says, looking through the photos. “Oh my god.” He holds one of the photos out to Remus laughing. Remus looks at the photo and starts laughing too. It’s him sitting next to a dog, a stag and a rat. His friends in their animagus forms and him in the middle, smiling awkwardly as Lily takes a photo.

They spent a little longer looking through the photos, laughing at how much they had changed since the first day they’d met each other in first year. They all looked so little. And now… well, now they’re grown up. Remus didn’t feel like it though.

He returned the photos to the box, deciding he’d find a place for them tomorrow. He was reaching another box when Sirius took his hand.

“Come to bed, darling,” he said. “It’s nearly midnight and you’re still unpacking boxes.”

“Yeah, okay,” Remus said. He smiled and laced his fingers with Sirius’.

He showered and put on a massive sweater (despite it being midsummer) and clambered into their new bed, where Sirius was already waiting for him. Sirius pulled him in and kissed his forehead before resting his head against Remus’ chest.

As they cuddle in their brand new bed, in their brand new apartment, Remus is overcome by the urge to tell Sirius, to just say it. To say what he wanted to say months ago on their anniversary but had been too afraid. He doesn’t even care if Sirius says it back. He just wants to say the words. He wants Sirius to know. Sirius deserves to know.

He lifts Sirius’ chin with his hand so their eyes meet as he brushes his thumb against Sirius’ cheek.

“I love you,” he says.

“I– I–” Sirius stutters.

“And you don’t have to say it back or anything,” Remus assures him. “I just wanted you to know.” Tears spill from Sirius’ eyes.

“You’re crying?” Remus said, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“No, nothing wrong, I just—” Sirius hesitates, sniffing. “That’s the first time anyone’s told me that,” he admits.

“That’s a shame,” Remus says, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ll always remind you how much I love you. I love you so much, Sirius.” He pulls Sirius into a tight hug. “You deserve so much love.” Sirius kisses him softly. It’s a quiet, gentle kiss, tears still flowing freely down Sirius’ face.

“I love you too,” Sirius whispers.

“You don’t have to say it just because I did,” Remus says.

“I’m not,” Sirius said. “I really do love you.” Remus smiles as he feels the blush blooming on his cheeks. And suddenly he can’t remember what was holding him back in the first place. He feels like an idiot for waiting so long to say this. He loves Sirius. He loves Sirius with all of his heart and he’s going to make sure Sirius knows it.

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part I (x reader insert)

Summary: Our favorite couple has some catching up to do.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (or xOC)

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: descriptions of Mexico and prison; they have a sleepover, but it’s just talking and sleeping 🥰

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: Here we go!!!!! We’re picking up from right where we left off in tmsidk part X.

Song Rec: The Luckiest by Ben Folds

Series Masterlist

———

“Do you— would you want to— come upstairs?” he asked.

Spencer stood in front of her, unsure of what to do with his hands. Y/N was absolutely radiant— bathed in the very last of the golden daylight and more beautiful than he even remembered. All he wanted to do was hug her again and never let go.

She shook her head, and he tried not to instantly deflate. “I have to feed Roald.” She smiled a little at him and restarted his heart. “But would you want to come over? We could order somethi—”

“Yes— yes.” She let out a quiet laugh at his eagerness, and he wanted to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life. “Can I— I just want to drop this stuff off and change, and then I’ll, um.” He gestured vaguely to her. “Should I drive you or do you want to walk or I can just— meet you? Whatever— whatever you want.”

“I’m gonna head back now and take care of Roald. Take your time, and just— well, here.” She held out her hand. “I’ll put my number in your phone, and you can just text me when you’re on your way.”

He fumbled the phone out of his pocket, placed it into her outstretched hand, and nearly vibrated with the way her fingers brushed over his. She stared at the unsophisticated phone in her hand. “You weren’t kidding about the technology thing, huh?”

He ran a hand down the back of his neck and shrugged. “I prefer to keep things simple.”

“I haven’t seen a T9 keyboard since I was in high school. This is a relic,” she laughed and then gave him a soft smile. “And… very you.”

He watched her fingers as she pressed along the tiny keys, still sort of in shock that she was here, that he was getting a second chance, that she wanted to do this with him. She handed the phone back to him and then stuffed her hands in her pockets. “So, I’ll see you in a little bit?”

He nodded and gave her his best smile. She stepped forward into his space, and his eyes went a little wide as she leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She stepped back with a smile, then waved and turned on her heel headed to her car.

He stood rooted to the spot until she had disappeared from view, then let out a long breath and looked down at the small screen of his phone at her contact information. His lips twitched at the name she’d given herself.

Miss Honey <3

…

Forty five minutes later, Spencer smoothed down the front of his cardigan and blew out a sigh. He’d spent five of those minutes reveling in the magic that was Y/N, and the other forty convincing himself that she’d already changed her mind. But he was a man in love, and so he was standing in front of her building, willing himself to press her buzzer.

He was jolted out of his stupor by the buzzing of his phone. He pulled the device from his pocket and saw her name on the tiny screen, hesitating only a moment before pressing the button to answer. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He could hear her smile through the tinny speaker, and it immediately set him at ease. “I was just checking to make sure you remembered where you were going.”

“Yeah, I— I’m outside now, actually,” he confirmed.

“Oh, great! I’ll buzz you up.”

The door buzzed open, and Spencer pocketed his phone, stepping into the small foyer. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants as he made his way to the staircase. He had barely taken the first step when she called, “It’s the third floor!”

He barely resisted the urge to take the stairs two at a time. When he reached the landing of the third floor, she was standing in the doorway in a purple sweatshirt, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks with dragons on them. He couldn’t help but grin.

“Hey.” She returned his smile. “Come on in.” She moved aside and waved him into her apartment.

He stepped over the threshold, and she closed the door behind him. “I can take your coat. Feel free to leave your shoes there. Roald will be in hiding for the next half hour or so,” she informed him.

He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her, looking briefly around the tidy space. The walls of her living room were a calming mint green, adorned with plenty of art and photographs. Her couch was a blush pink velvet, exactly as soft as she was.

“Okay, I’m starving,” she admitted, turning to hang his coat in the coat closet. “We can order pizza, Indian, Thai— any preference?”

He shook his head. “No, whatever you want.”

She closed the closet door and cocked an eyebrow. “So if I wanted to order a huge pizza with extra cheese, you’d be cool with that?”

“Sure, absolutely,” he nodded.

She tilted her head. “Even with your dairy thing?”

He was surprised that she even remembered such a tiny detail from all those months ago, and his heart would have fluttered if he wasn’t so focused on making as few waves as possible. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a mistake letting him back in, and he didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to rethink her decision. “Well, it’s— it’s just a sensitivity, not a true allergy. Although it’s gotten a bit worse in recent years. But really, whatever you want to do is fine.”

He suddenly struggled to make eye contact, feeling overwhelmingly awkward and out of place. Now that he was here in her apartment, it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. He cracked the knuckles on each finger as he waited for it. She let out a small sigh, and he braced himself for impact.

“Why don’t you come sit?”

Her voice was quiet, and then her hand on his arm was soft, and she was leading him to the couch and sitting down next to him. She kept some distance between them, placed her hands in her lap, and then she was still for a long moment. He could feel her eyes on him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know if she wanted him to say anything at all.

“You know I forgive you, right?” The question was tentative. He met her eyes, and he didn’t see the regret or pity that he expected. There was something else there; something he couldn’t quite decipher. “Because I do. Forgive you. You apologized, and you meant it, and you allowed me space and time to process. And that’s— that’s all I could have asked for.”

As seemed to always be the case, the task of articulating what he was feeling began to crush him under its weight. The words were there, but he couldn’t get the order right. If it were anyone else, he would have just evaded the conversation entirely. But he’d promised her that he would try. After everything he’d put her through, she deserved that much.

He breathed in through his nose, expelling it in a sigh. “I’ve just— I’ve spent the last month thinking about this— about you— pretty much exclusively,” he admitted, staring at his hands. “And I’m just realizing that I never really… allowed myself to think about what would happen next, because I wasn’t sure that this would happen at all.” He gestured between them and then looked at her. “And now I’m here— with you, and I just— it’s…” He let out a sigh.

“Doesn’t live up to expectations?” she prompted.

His eyes went wide, and he moved closer to her on the couch. “No— god, no.” He instinctively reached for her hand, felt that electricity again when she allowed him to lace their fingers together. He was already making a mess of things. “You always exceed expectations.” He shook his head, and she squeezed his hand. “I just— I don’t… I don’t wanna mess this up.”

She covered their intertwined fingers with her other hand, rubbed her thumb along his. “I don’t think you will. Something tells me you don’t typically make the same mistake twice,” she inferred.

He laughed a little at that, and she gave him a sweet smile, and then she said, “So, no pizza. How about Indian?”

…

They were just cleaning up the last of the take out containers when Roald made his way out of Y/N’s bedroom.

“There he is! Hey, buddy,” she cooed, leaning down to give Roald a quick pet. She gave Spencer a sheepish smile. “He takes a while to warm up to new faces, so don’t be offended if he’s not—”

She was stopped mid-sentence by Roald’s decision to make a beeline for him. The cat stopped to give a cursory sniff before weaving between Spencer’s legs, purring loud enough that they could both hear it. Her mouth dropped open a bit as he leaned down to scratch between Roald’s ears.

“He— he is never that friendly,” she said incredulously. “There really is something about you, Dr. Reid.”

He looked up at her with a smile. “I’m just glad he approves. Would have been kind of awkward otherwise.”

“He’s a very good judge of character, so that bodes well for you,” she confirmed.

“Oh yeah?” Spencer scratched underneath Roald’s chin, grinning at the contented cat. He brought his gaze back to her, standing back to his full height when he realized she’d moved… a lot closer. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he watched her eyes track the motion.

“Yeah.”

He thought back to that night nearly two months ago, the way his mouth had verged on violent when she’d kissed him. He hated that their first kiss was tainted with his foolishness, that he’d marred that memory for them both. He couldn’t take it back, and he wasn’t certain that she wanted to kiss him now, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” she breathed.

He brought his hands to her face and used a gentle grip to pull her in. She rested her warm palms against his waist and let her fingers dig in, holding herself steady as his lips met hers.

He kept the kiss as soft as she deserved, opening his mouth to let her in but letting her lead and take him wherever she wanted to go. Her hands slid around to his back, and she tugged him in closer. He left one hand cradling her face but moved the other to the small of her back and pulled her flush against him.

She huffed out a tiny breath against his mouth, her lips turning up in a smile that he could feel in his toes. She brought one hand up to his jaw, rubbed her thumb across his cheek and then wound her fingers into his hair. She tangled them in his curls and tugged just enough to break the kiss, pressing their foreheads together with a sigh.

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’m just gonna wipe our first kiss from my memory and replace it with that one,” she murmured.

“I’m very much on board with this rewrite,” he agreed.

“Excellent.” She used the hand in his hair to pull him forward into another quick kiss. Roald made his presence known at their feet with a loud meow, pulling a laugh from both of them.

They de-tangled themselves from each other, and she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s getting late.” He nodded in agreement, although he never wanted this night to end. And then she continued, “Do you wanna, um— do you wanna stay the night? I’m sure I can find some comfy clothes that’ll fit you.”

He’d been a ship on a turbulent sea for the past two months, just barely staying afloat at times. It had been heart wrenching and nerve wracking and terrifying— and all of his own doing. And in one night, she’d anchored his vessel amongst the crashing waves. A solution kit, a hug, forgiveness, a kiss, and now this.

His racing mind came to a standstill. The near constant noise was quieted. The turbulent sea became calm, still waters.

“I’d really, really like that.”

…

Spencer ended up in an XXL t-shirt from a school fundraiser and a pair of stretchy bike shorts. Y/N had managed to scrounge up a new toothbrush from the back of the cabinet, and they brushed their teeth together with foamy smiles in the bathroom mirror.

It had taken very little convincing for Spencer to agree to share the bed. Y/N climbed in under the covers, settling back against the pillows and turning down the duvet for him to join her. He held up one finger and disappeared out into the living room, returning a minute later with the solution kit in hand. He moved to the bed, sliding in between the soft sheets and pulling up the duvet.

He leaned back against the pillows and turned toward her, opening the box. “This is the most incredible thing anyone has ever done for me,” he admitted. “Can you, um— explain them to me? Some of them I figured out, but others— well, I just want to hear you, really.”

She scooted closer to him and leaned over to look in the box. “The first few are pretty self-explanatory. This one,” she said, pulling out a picture of her with her hands over her heart and belly, “is taking deep breaths until you’re calm and ready to try again. This one is reading a favorite book— which I know will take you about five minutes,” she joked.

She retrieved the card with the clip art book, and then the one behind it with a pencil and paper. “You can try to write down the difficult thoughts and feelings to get them out of your headspace.” The next card had a picture of an old rotary phone. “Hmmm, almost a match to the dinosaur phone you actually have,” she teased. “But it’s an option to call someone. Could be your mom, or a friend, or—”

“Or you? Could I call you?”

She looked up to find his eyes on her and smiled. “Yeah. You can call me, too.” She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, and— not for the first time that night— he could not believe how lucky he was.

She drew back to pull out the next card: a clip art rendering of a desktop computer. “Oh! This one is for researching something. I know you’ve got a seemingly endless encyclopedia of knowledge up there,” she tapped on his temple, “but there’s always something new to learn. And teaching yourself something can help you feel capable in moments where you’re feeling— a little helpless.”

There was also a small wooden puzzle cube in the box. She took it from the box and held it up in front of them. “I know your IQ will probably solve this thing in fifteen seconds, but at least it’ll be a nice fidget toy,” she laughed.

The last card in the box was a picture of a timer. “This one might seem kind of dumb, but sometimes it helps me to set a timer to remind myself that feeling shitty is a temporary state of being.” She held the card between her fingers and shrugged. “Even if I’m still feeling less than great after the timer goes off, it usually gives me the boost I need to move forward.”

She gathered all the cards in her hands, shuffling them and then placing them back in the box. “You can add your own options as you think of them. This was just a starter set.”

He closed the lid of the box and set it on the bed between them. He reached for her hand, and she immediately threaded their fingers together. He rubbed his thumb along her impossibly soft skin and took a deep breath.

“The timer isn’t dumb. I, um— I did something similar in prison.” She squeezed his hand. “I kept track of the— the days on this little spot on the wall. Every time it felt like I couldn’t take another day, I’d count the marks and remind myself that I— that I’d survived that long. That I could make it another day.”

He went quiet, and Y/N sat up a little in bed, brushed her free hand over his hair. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” It wasn’t a lie. He wanted to talk to her about it. He wanted to talk to her about everything. He wanted to let her into the shadowy corners of his mind that he kept from everyone else.

“If you’re sure, then I’m right here.” She pulled their intertwined fingers into her lap and leaned over to press a kiss to his shoulder.

When she pulled back, he let out a long breath. He watched her thumb as it traced an unwavering line across the back of his hand. “I was, um— I was in Mexico getting an experimental Alzheimer’s drug for my mom. I’d been going down there for a few months, and it wasn’t ideal, but the medication really seemed to be helping her. And I was just— I was desperate. Desperate for anything that would give me more time with her. More lucid, meaningful time, you know?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“It wasn’t the, uh— drug that got me arrested,” he admitted. “There was an unsub— one of the serial killers that we put away a few years ago— a psychopathic, narcissistic hitwoman who had this— I don’t know, vendetta against me, I guess. She, um— she manipulated another woman into drugging me and framing me for the murder of the doctor I was getting the medication from.”

He could feel her eyes on him, and he drew his brows together. “I know the— the whole thing sounds completely absurd— fictional even,” he admitted. “She used a mix of drugs called sevoflurane and scopolamine to trigger dissociation and hallucination, which made it really— um... For a long time, I couldn’t tell which of my memories were real and which were drug-induced delusions.”

He focused on the motion of her thumb against his skin. “The team got me out of the prison in Mexico, but because I went against FBI protocol when I crossed the border, the Bureau wouldn’t fund my legal representation here. Emily hired a great lawyer, but the judge was less than sympathetic. And it really, um— snowballed from there.”

He took a deep breath. “I was sent to Millburn, which is a maximum security prison, and then I didn’t get the protective custody detail, so I was in general population, but I didn’t want to hurt people or move drugs, so I got the shit kicked out of me for a while, and then my friend Luis was killed in front of me, and I—”

Spencer didn’t realize he was crying until Y/N’s hands were on his face, wiping the tears before pulling him into her arms. “A-and then I poisoned the drugs, which just ended up hurting a bunch of people who didn’t deserve to get hurt. And then I got outed as an agent, and my mom got abducted, and I stabbed myself to get put in solitary, but I wasn’t safe there either, and I really thought... I was sure I was going to die there.”

He wrapped his arms around her middle and tucked his face into her shoulder as the hurricane of his agony swirled and raged and then swept out as quickly as it rolled in. She soothed his cries and held him against her, never rushing or shushing him. Eventually, his weeping dwindled to quiet sniffles, his heaving breaths faded to drawn sighs. She kept him anchored through all of it, rocking him gently from side to side and calming his shattered frame.

When he finally quieted, she released him and pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. His chest tightened at her tear-stained cheeks, and he brought his hands up to wipe at them uselessly. When his hands fell back to his lap, she sniffled a little before taking a deep breath, releasing it on a shaky sigh.

“The choices you made kept you alive, Spencer. They were—  impossible, horrific choices that I’m sure just—” She shook her head, searching for the right words. “I’m sure the weight of the guilt and grief has to be unbearable sometimes,” she surmised. “And there’s nothing I can say that will make that any less true.”

She cupped his face in her hands, swiping at the fresh tears with her thumbs. “But I’m... I’m so selfishly thankful for every choice you made. Because it was the perfect set of decisions in that it brought you here. To me…” The tears tracked hot down her cheeks, and she took a shaky breath. “And I feel so unbelievably lucky and so incredibly grateful to have you.”

He had her wrapped up in his arms before she’d even finished the sentence. “I never believed in luck,” he mused. He pressed a kiss into her hair and closed his eyes. “I’m still not sure if I do. But I can tell you that I’m the luckiest.”

———

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[ray-ray-writings]

Family Matters-Awesamdude

This is a Sam x gn!reader also with a bit of Son!Tommyinnit x gn!reader as well in the dreamsmp! Thank you to 🍉 for this idea!!! (P.S. Do you all remember that Fundy video where he coded it so that he could take Dream on a movie date? Yeah we’re going to pretend that that code applies to Minecraft and so you can have TVs so you can watch movies and stuff lol… That’s all) (P.P.S. This took longer than I thought it would so this is my only post for the night. I’m sorry)

Masterlist here!

After spending a lot of time with Tommy, Y/N and Sam decide its time to expand their own family

Y/N’s POV

“Honey I’m home!” I heard my husband call from the front door. “In the kitchen!” I called back as I finished up dinner. “I also brought a guest. Hope that’s okay.” Sam announced as he entered the kitchen. I looked away from what I was doing a little confused. “Of course it’s okay, who did you bring?” I questioned as he approached me, leaned down and gave me a quick kiss as a greeting. Sam simply grinned and moved out of the way revealing a blonde teenage boy standing in the doorway with a grin on his face. “Tommy!!” I exclaimed, leaving the stove and running to the young boy. “Hi Y/N!” He shouted in response, allowing me to wrap my arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. 

“It’s so good to see you! I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while!” I told the young boy, pulling back slightly from the hug. “Yeah, I’ve been a bit busy with Tubbo. But I ran into Sam as he was walking back from the prison and we started talking and he invited me back here for dinner. I hope that’s okay, I can leave if you want, I don’t want to intrude” Tommy rambled off nervously. I couldn’t help but let out a scoff of disbelief at that, “Okay course it’s okay! You’re always welcome in our home Tommy. Come, sit! Dinner is almost reader,” i said before peeling myself off of the boy and ushering him to the open seat at the table. 

I quickly returned to the stove where Sam had taken over making dinner and had actually finished by the time I got there. “Do you want to serve or do you want me to?” Sam questioned softly, giving me a warm smile. I let out a hum before responding, “I’ll serve if you want to get drinks.” Sam gave me a nod, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to my lips before moving away from my side and getting cups. I quickly grabbed three plates before portioning out the food I had made and carefully carried the plates over to the table and set them down in front of our respective chairs. “Thanks Y/N. Thanks Sam” Tommy thanked us as we set the food and drink down in front of him. “No problem kiddo” I responded, sitting down in my own seat before Sam sat in his. “Let’s eat!”

The three of us ate together and talked about our days as well as catching up with what Tommy had been getting up too. It felt really nice talking to Tommy. Ever since Philza had moved out to the tundra with Techno, we had kind of taken Tommy under our wing. Sam had spent a lot of time with him building and I had spent a lot of time with him mining and gathering materials. It had been a little bit since the three of us hung out, Tommy had been busy with Tubbo running their country. 

“Can you stay for a little bit longer?” I asked the younger boy as we cleared plates from the dinner table. A bright smile formed on his face as he nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, yeah I can. What did you have in mind?” Tommy responded. I gave him an excited grin before quickly putting the dishes in the sink, grabbing his arm, and pulling him into the living room. Sam also put his plate in the sink and followed behind us. 

Once in the living room, I softly pushed Tommy to the couch before rushing over to the TV and putting in a new movie I had yet to see and I knew that Tommy and Sam would enjoy it too. I turned back around and found Tommy sitting in the middle of the couch and Sam sitting to the right of him. I giddily took the spot open on the left side of Tommy and hit play on the remote. 

Once I had settled on the couch, I moved my arm to wrap around Tommy’s shoulders and pull him close to my side. Tommy gave me a confused look but I shrugged, “I wanted to be close to you and my husband, and this is the only way to do it.” At my words, Sam reached up and wrapped his arm around Tommy’s shoulder too, his arm resting on top of mine. Tommy seemed to accept my answer and settled down, almost curling closer into my side. 

The three of us mostly watched the movie in silence, laughing at the appropriate parts and joking about something the characters were doing. Toward the end, I felt something drop onto my shoulder. I looked over in confusion and felt my heart melt at the sight. Tommy had fallen asleep and in his exhaustion, he head had dropped onto my shoulder. I looked up and met Sam’s eyes, who was staring fondly at the two of us. 

“He really is like our kid sometimes” I whispered to my husband. His eyes didn’t leave Tommy’s form. “Yeah… Do you think that maybe… possibly… we could… ya know?” I knew what he was trying to say. “Really? You want to?” Sam’s eye flicked up from Tommy’s sleeping face. “Yeah, I really really do… Is that okay?” There was a moment’s pause where we both stared at each other, glancing down at Tommy before meeting his gaze again, “Of course that’s okay Sam. I really want to start a family with you. I love you so much” “I love you so much too baby.” Sam, as carefully as he could leaned across Tommy and pressed a sweet kiss to my lips before settling back in his spot with a grin on his lips. We were going to do it. We were going to start our own family. 

*Time skippppp*

Tommy was the first person we told when we had gotten confirmation that we were going to be parents. The two of us made Tommy’s favorite meal and told him that we were going to have a baby. “I’m going to be a big brother?” Tommy gasped in excitement. Tears filled my eyes at his words. Of course Sam and I considered him as a son, but we didn’t know he thought of us in the same way. “Yeah Tommy,” Sam chimed in, tears forming in his eyes as well, “You’re going to be a big brother” Tommy shot up from his seat and ran over to me and threw his arms around me. “Oh this is going to be so cool! I’ve always wanted a younger sibling and now I can finally have one! I’m going to teach them so many curse words!” That made the both of us laugh, “No you absolutely will not” I chided, laughter lacing my voice as tears began falling down my face. “Oh I absolutely will.” 

The next few months were spent preparing for the baby. Tommy was a great help. He spent a lot of days helping Sam extend our house and prepping a nursery for our new addition to the family. Tommy also spent a lot of time helping me. Making sure that I had everything I needed and that I wasn’t over exerting myself, which I found very sweet. Tommy did not leave our house during this time and so we decided to build another room for him to live in. 

Once the baby, a beautiful little girl, finally arrived, Tommy was so stoked. He almost never left her side. Tommy would spend several hours holding our little baby, Stella. There would be many nights where Stella would wake me or Sam up with her crying and by the time either of us got there, Tommy was already holding her, trying to sooth her crying. He was really truly the best big brother to Stella. 

“You guys haven’t had a proper date night in a long time yeah?” Tommy asked randomly one night as the four of us were seated at dinner. Sam and I shared a look before turning back to the boy who had become our son, “Yeah, I guess not huh?” Sam asked with a chuckle. I couldn’t help but chuckle as well as I fed Stella, “It’s been since… I don’t know, before we announced we were going to have Stella. But it’s alright, Stella has taken up a big part of our life and she needs a lot of attention, it’s what being a parent is. We’re alright” I told the boy, looking over and throwing a wink to Sam who threw one back at me with another chuckle. 

Tommy was silent for a moment, contemplating his next words before he spoke, “I mean… Maybe I could watch her for the night while you two go out and have a proper date night” Tommy offered. The offer surprised me. Because yes, Tommy loves his little sister and spends a lot of time with her, but he has only spent time around her when we were around as well. “I would be a really good babysitter too! I would make sure she was fed and she had a clean diaper and went to bed on time. I pinky promise!” Tommy rambles, trying really hard to convince us. 

I looked over to Sam who was already looking at me. I rose my eyebrow at him, and he shrugged in response before raising an eyebrow at me in return. I also gave him a shrug in response before we both turned back to Tommy. “Alright” we both agreed in unison. “After dinner we can pick a date and time, how’s that sound?” Tommy let out a cheer at Sam’s response, startling Stella a little bit. I giggled and quickly soothed her, getting her to go back to eating before looking back at Tommy, “I take that as a yes?” “Yes! Absolutely!” 

So the date was set. Next week the two of us would go out on a small date together, leaving both of our children behind back at the house. Each day that passed, Tommy grew more and more excited about the date. I honestly think that Tommy was more excited about our date than we were. Once the day finally arrived, Tommy practically shoved the two of us out the house, slamming the door closed behind us. 

I couldn’t help but hesitate to leave the front of our house. Sam immediately noticed and wrapped his arm around me and pulled me along the path, “Come on hun, they’ll be fine. You know Tommy loves her and wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” I let out a sigh but nodded and rested my head on his shoulder, “You’re right. You’re right. I’m just nervous about leaving her,” I admitted. Sam let out a hum and leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of my head, “I know baby. Me too, but Tommy’s got this and if he needs anything, he knows to get a hold of us.” I nodded once more, “Yeah… Yeah okay. Okay… Let’s go have fun baby.” “Let’s do that”

The two of us left the house, only glancing back one time each to make sure the house was still standing until we were out of view of it. Once we could no longer see the house, the two of us began to focus on each other and our date night. We allowed ourselves to get lost in each other and go back to the giggly cutesy couple that the two of us were before we had our baby. Not that we’re still not giggly or cutesy, it’s just that we have definitely been more stressed due to our child. But we were able to have an actual, proper, date night with no screaming kids interrupting our kisses or hugs. It was actually really nice and relaxing. 

When the two of us came home, it felt like we were on cloud nine. For the first time in a long time, we didn’t have to worry about either of our children. We knew where the baby was and that Tommy was taking care of her to the best of his abilities. The house was quiet when we walked in, which was a little weird. Normally, Tommy would be talking to Stella if she was awake, but if she wasn’t he would have put her in her crib and come back downstairs to watch a movie or something… But the TV wasn’t on and he wasn’t talking. 

“Tommy?” I called out softly through the house. No response. “Tommy?” Sam tried, his voice also soft. Also no response. “Maybe he’s asleep?” I murmured, walking forward further into the house, Sam following behind. “Maybe. But that would be weird too, he usually never goes to be without telling us goodnight.” “Maybe he’s trying something new” “Maybe.” 

The two of us walked through the house quietly, looking for any sign of Tommy or Stella. Sam and I parted ways as we walked through, Sam went to the kitchen and I went to the living room. My eyes scanned the room and immediately stopped on the most adorable sight I had ever seen on the couch. I poked my head out of the living room and called to my husband softly, “Sam. I found them,” I whisper shouted causing him to step out of the kitchen. “Yeah? They in there?” “Yeah… Come look.” Sam quickly walked down the hallway and peered into the living room. “Oh my gosh” he whispered as his eyes met the sight, “I know right?”

There on the couch was Tommy and Stella. Tommy’s head was tilted back onto the back of the couch and baby Stella rested on his chest. Tommy’s hands rested protectively on Stella’s back holding her close to him. Small snores were falling from the young blonde’s lips as he peacefully slept on the couch. Over Tommy’s shoulder, a burp rag rested and beside him a half drunk bottle lay on it’s side. It seems that he was trying to get her to eat, but she just wanted to snuggle and sleep. 

“He really is the best big brother that anyone could ask for,” I whispered to my husband who hummed in agreement, “He really is. They’re the best kids that parents could ask for.” Kids. Our kids. They are our children. A small tear made its way down my cheek causing me to let out a sniff, “yeah, they really are.” Sam looks over to me and chuckled, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest. “You big softie” he teased, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Oh hush, you’re the same way,” I mumbled, my face pressed into his chest. I felt a chuckle rumble through his body as he laughed at me, “Yeah… You’re right. You’re 100% right.” 

We stood there for a few moments longer before I let out a small yawn. “Tired?” Sam asked, pulling me away from the hug slightly to look at my face. I gave him a small nod and a tired smile, “Yeah, I had a really fun day with this really cool guy and now I’m a bit tired,” I told him. Sam laughed and pressed a small kiss to my forehead. “Wow, that guy sounds pretty cool,” Sam claimed, going on with the joke. “He really is. I love him lots, we have two children together that we should probably put to bed right now.” Another laugh escaped his lips, “I’m sure he loves you lots too. And I’m sure he’d agree with you about getting the kids to bed. I bet he would suggest you get Stella and he get Tommy.” It was my turn to laugh at him, “Yeah. I would definitely agree with that,” I giggled. Sam gave me a soft smile before leaning down and giving me a soft and slow kiss that I instantly returned. “I love you so much” “I love you too” 

After we broke apart, the two of us softly moved to the children that were knocked out on the couch. Ever so carefully, I peeled Tommy’s hands from his sister’s back before picking her up and tucking her to my own chest and stepping away from the couch. Sam quickly took my spot and ever so slowly and carefully picked up our son bridal style. We carefully made our way to our respective child’s room. I carefully laid Stella down in her crib, tucking her in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, and leaving the room. 

I made my way to Sam and I’s shared bedroom, quickly getting ready for bed and crawling into bed before Sam entered the room as well. We were silent as he got ready for bed and crawled in next to me. “Have any troubles?” I whispered, curling myself into his chest. Sam’s arms immediately wrapped around my body, cuddling me closer. “No, you?” “Nope. All good on the Stella front.” “Good” 

We were silent for a little while longer, his hands rubbing up and down my back softly, lulling me closer to the edge of sleep. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you,” Sam murmured after a while, breaking the silence. “For what?” I responded sleepily, confused at what he was saying. “For this. For letting Tommy in our home. For Stella. For giving me family.” A soft warmth filled my whole body at my husband’s soft confession. I carefully pulled my head from his chest and peered up at him softly, “Oh baby. You don’t have to thank me for that… It was just a part of your decision as it was mine. We’re in this together babe. You and me, it’s our family. Our little family.” 

I tilted my head up and Sam got the message. Our lips met in a soft but passionate kiss. The kiss said everything. “Thank you” “You don’t have to thank me” “You’re my family” “I love you” Another wave of warmth flooded my body, making me feel cozy and warm. It was a feeling that I never ever wanted to leave my body. It was a feeling that could be caused by no one else, only my husband, the love of my life, my everything. “I love you so much” Sam murmured against my lips. “I love you too. So much more.” 

Well that ending sucked… lol but there you have it! I really hope you enjoyed it! If so be sure to leave a like or maybe even a reblog!!

[youn9racha]

I Know (Part I)

Pairing: Changbin x fem!reader

Genre: suggestive

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: slight adult content, swearing, suggestive actions, elements of stalker behavior

Extra notes: characters mentioned are all above the age 21 years, a lot of hatred towards the male figure lol. Also this is my first time writing on tumblr, so please bare with me, it may not be the best, but I still hope you enjoy it :)

And baby, I know, I know whatever city you’re in, you’re still the boy that I’d pick…

part ii is up !!!

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This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised

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Men…

Truly the scums of the Earth, who do no good for no one, and are an absolute menace to society. But oh, do I enjoy the looks of their faces at times. The way they would look at me with full hope and infatuation, with full beliefs that I would step down and give them all they want from me.

Hmph. How cute… and pathetic. How pathetic to assume and lower my standards for them. They all are the same. All but one however.

All that men hating… and yet, only one I’d be willing to go down to his level.

Yes, its him… He whom a lot would have not sought to be with, not many would expect a bombshell like myself would be with. But I do not see that in him, not an ounce of what many insecure individuals would see. I see something striking that not many could see, an underrated dignified beauty that anyone could wish to admire. A fanciable and irresistible personality and face.

He was a man.. but a pleasant one.

It all started when I moved in into a new flat for myself. I previously left the old complex due to the cramped environment I had that left me feeling uneasy and stressed, as well as it wasn’t even my apartment, it was for my partner, well, ex-partner. It was simply wasn’t working out, due to our seeming never ending conflicts. But enough of the past, let us move on..

I found this flat that is comfortable and the rent pays well, its only downside is that my room’s window is faced to the next door’s flat, however it’s not a big detriment or big turn off for me so it was fine by me, and also it was prone to have random, yet rare, blackout, but then again what neighborhood doesn’t have that. Anyhow, I was set to take the complex, but before I did, I have noticed something about the neighbor’s window next to me. It was a man. A really good looking one too. Giving his side profile, he was laying on his bed, his black hair covered head bopping with earphones placed in ears, laptop placed in his revealing shorts adorned lap. My eyes began started to stare into his arms then onto his naked well built chest, which indicates that he likes to keep up with his health, as his ring adorned hands was tapping away in his keyboard. I quickly looked away when I saw him repositioned his laptop, and walked out of the soon-to-be my room.

Great… I’ve entered Hell.

But I didn’t let it affect my decisions and got the apartment nonetheless, here I am now, weeks after the incident, sitting in my car, outside of the building, still thinking about the man in his laptop. Has he noticed that I was staring at him? Does he know that there’s gonna be someone living next to him? I hope not. And if he has, I must apologize to him. But before that, let me unload my car. I have gradually put my stuff into the complex as the days go by, it seems dragging, but it felt like the time went by fast, so I’m glad I have done that. However, today was different, as I took stuff more than I usually did, as I desperately do not want to go back to my ex. Typically, I never had assistance, as usually my best friend would join in and help out, but at a time I needed them the most, they had to be really sick. They still were willing to help, but I insisted that they shouldn’t and should rest.

After thinking, I sighed and got out my car, ready to fight the battle that is putting my stuff into my complex. I opened the trunk, eyes meeting my stuff, and I begin to groan. ‘Dammit, (y/n), why do you have that many stuff?!’ I thought to myself. I really should’ve had at least one more visit to my ex, but alas I picked to just take all all together in one day. I picked up a box until..

“Need any help?” I heard someone behind me asking me. I turned around and looked at the source. ‘God damn, is it just me, or does this town just bring out more attractive people?’ I thought to myself, as I see a man that looked like he could be at a museum. He had a sandy brown curly hair, slightly tanned skin, really plump and a crazy jawline. He donned a tank top that barely covered his side torso, and basket ball shorts that complimented his really nice, thick… thighs… yeah… Needless to say he was really attractive.

It seems that I was ogling him, rather than responding, as he shyly smiled and waved his hand in front of my face, “hello,” he softly said as I shook my head and looked back at his face apologetically.

“I am so sorry, I am just really tired, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I cringed at my pathetic way of justifying of me literally internally lusting over him. I really am turning into someone I dread to be. How can I forgive myself?

“That’s okay, I know how moving can get tiring, and I sense that you’re alone, so please let me and my friend help you out.” He said, sympathetically smiling a sweet smile, already grabbing a box out of my hand. God, if this man has a partner, then they’re the luckiest person ever, and if he’s single, I’ll gladly hand him a ring. What am I saying? (y/n), what the hell has gotten into you?!

“I’m Christopher, but you can call me Chris or Chan, whichever you prefer is fine, what’s your name?” The generous man’s voice interrupted my inner battle and I found myself looking at him again. “(y/n)” I smiled at him, which he nodded back.

“Nice to meet you,” Chan said, looking back and see that his friend showed up, meanwhile, I went back to my trunk and got out more stuff from my car “oh, there he is!” Chan enthusiastically announced.

“(y/n), meet my friend and roommate, Changbin.” Chris said, while I got out the box and looked at the other man, my face shifted from contentment to horrific.

Its the man with the laptop.

“Hello? Chan, are you sure she’s okay?” Changbin looked at Chris with worry. “Yeah, she’s just tired, just nudge her.”

It’s like Chris knew me too well, despite meeting for less than 10 minutes, as Chris slightly pushed me with the box, not enough to hurt me, but enough to put me out of a trance.

“huh? I did it again, did I?” I looked at Chan, worryingly, which he nodded. I looked back at Changbin and the pathetic act was brought up again.

“I am so sorry, I don’t know what has gotten into me.” I apologized once again, which Changbin only smirked. “Don’t worry about it,” He said, carrying a box. Something about that smirk and tone seems off. Not off in a menacing way, but off in a… coy way. Maybe not the best term to use, maybe I am just over analyzing, but I am for sure either winning the lottery tonight, or convinced that the sun will rise from the west tomorrow, since I have two very attractive men helping out, one of which is someone whom I may have an odd fascination for a while now.

~~

The two have been nothing but a delight to interact with, their help with the stuff had done me even more than just a solid. However, I still in a way feel a bit unsettled by Changbin. It wasn’t that he was a creep, or did anything to make me uncomfortable, its just this feeling of guilt I carry with me. Meanwhile, I didn’t attempt anything, and I just simply just admired him from afar, it still felt wrong that I was just looking at him while he was barely wearing anything, let alone while not him paying attention. Despite this, it seems that he doesn’t know that I did what I did, which is why I chose to confront him about it when the time is right, which is probably when we start getting even more comfortable. I have exchanged numbers with both men, even though I could probably just go out my window and yell out their names, but I’d rather not disturb the peace.

Two good looking men are now my neighbors… Who would have thought? Whichever entity that is in existence have decided to play with me, because to them, my humiliation would be their laughing stock, because they definitely would have seen what is to become of me.

Its been a week in since I moved, and interacted with the two Chans, and I am glad that a curtain was installed onto my room, just so I wouldn’t carry even more guilt than I already do. But the thing is, I would lie that I still haven’t thought of Changbin. While I would have thought that Chris fitting into more of my ideal type, Changbin however held a mysterious power that Chan didn’t.

Ever since the time I first laid eyes on Changbin, he has never left my mind. He has started to creep up in my fantasies and dreams in every way shape of form. I couldn’t stop thinking of how his arms would look around my waist, how his lips would feel in my skin, or how his hands would wander around, exploring places that many men often fail to find to make me feel good, or how his voice would be like when talking as he puts his mouth by my ear— God, this is getting out of hand, I would think.

What if he had a girlfriend? What if he wasn’t attracted to women in general? What if he finds you a creep?

So many more endless questions would come in to ruin me, but its not like i have a choice, he just happened to settle into my dreams and thoughts, and went with it.

I decided to take a shower to try and distract myself from these thoughts, which didn’t help at all, as the hot water cascading my skin did nothing but accelerated my lustful thoughts. I decided to get out of the shower, as it didn’t help my case.

Damn you, Changbin.

I sighed, put on some underwear and a robe while having a towel wrapped around my hair. I got out of the bathroom and back to my room. It was dark out, and in my room, the only light came out of it were my night lamp, which barely lit up the whole room. I checked the window, making sure Changbin wasn’t there, or at least not facing the window, only to see his window being covered with curtains.

Great timing, could’ve used that when I first saw you, dipshit.

But nonetheless, I was really glad at least he wasn’t visible. I laid back on my bed, and decided to look through social media, as anyone should. While in the middle of a instagram scroll, I see a caller popping through at the top of the screen…

It was Changbin.

[professorspork]

superhell fic prompt: JAUNE RUNS INTO PYRRHA

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

It doesn’t occur to that she’s allowed to talk to them until Torchwick reveals himself to Neo. And even then, well-- Roman Torchwick isn’t exactly a shining paragon when it comes to setting a good example of what’s allowed.

But the idea refuses to stop hounding her footsteps, once it’s come. Once she’s seen it’s possible, without consequences. Still, she waits, and keeps her distance. There’s no sunset, here on the island, no night, but there are shady places beneath the towering roots of the Tree; eventually, they all bed down, and Jaune-- as she’d known he would-- volunteers to take first watch. It’s a heartening display: Yang and Blake twined together like ivy on a wrought iron gate, but each clinging to the hands of their teammates, chained together by grasping fingers. Otters in a stream, unwilling to be separated.

She doesn’t know why she’s surprised to hear her own voice when she approaches.

...I know this can be frustrating, and it can feel like so much effort to progress such a small amount, but I want you to know that I'm proud of you. I've never met someone so determined to better themselves...

“You’ll drain your battery,” she cautions, reaching out with her mind to press the off button on his scroll. His head whips up, expression aghast, and she smiles at him softly. “I’d have thought you’d have it memorized by now anyhow; you haven’t seemed to need it in some time.”

She expects disbelief, perhaps, or shock. Joy would have been nice, but she’d have understood anger. So she’s surprised and---bizarrely proud, actually-- when instead his eyes narrow in suspicion and the first thing he says is, “Your Semblance works.”

“Well, yes.”

“Why does your Semblance work?”

“Because I’m where I’m supposed to be. A soul knows when it’s in the right place. Or the wrong one, as the case may be.”

“Or I’m dreaming.”

“Or you’re dreaming,” she agrees, keeping her voice mild, but feeling it like a punch to the stomach when his shoulders relax at the idea. Does he... not want her here? Goodness, but she’s out of practice. She’d forgotten it was like this; how talking to him had been both the easiest and the hardest thing in the world. “Would you-- prefer that? If I weren’t really here?”

“The real Pyrrha would know better than to ask me that.”

Despite herself, she laughs. “Oh, I wish that were true. I asked myself that every day. Every class, every glance, every study session on the roof. I’m afraid I was never as confident as I should have been.” It’s an embarrassing admission, but an effective one; the walled-up caution behind his eyes dissipates... only for tears to well up in its stead.

“Are you-- can I touch you?”

“I hope so.” (She’d left Torchwick and Neo behind before they’d gotten that far, for obvious reasons.)

“I--” He scrambles to his feet and crosses the distance between them, enveloping her in a crushing hug. It doesn’t feel like she remembers, but then, that’s no surprise-- he’s taller than he used to be, and her body isn’t exactly a body, per se. She’s grateful, even so. Happy just to have the chance to hold him up. She keeps quiet at first, letting him get it all out as he sobs incoherent apologies into her shoulder--

(IloveyouImissyouIloveyouImissyouI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry)

--and contents herself with playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. Eventually, he calms.

“I like the haircut,” she says, when he pulls away. “It’s handsome. You look so grown up.”

“You look so young,” he croaks in response, and-- she supposes she must, to his eyes. It’s strange to think that she’s the same age as Ruby now; that they’ve kept going on without her, and they’ll continue to do so, once she’s led them out. “Are you--? Have you--?” He wipes at his eyes, laughing at himself a little. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where to start. I just-- I can't believe you're here with me.”

“I'm always with you,” she assures him, unable to suppress the urge to thumb away a tear he’s missed. She keeps her hand there, at his cheek, as she she speaks: “Even when you can’t sense me, I... oh, Jaune. I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far.”

He sighs and steps out of the circle of her arms, hanging his head to stare at Crocea Mors where it rests in its sheath. You’d never know it to be broken, just by looking. The scabbard hides the damage-- giving him the appearance of being armed and ready though all he carries is a shattered hilt. “Yeah, maybe. I-- I thought I had, but...” He swallows, face filled with shame.

She starts to reach for him again, unwilling to waste even a moment of their time not touching him, but forces herself to relax and drop her hands to her sides. It has to be his choice, doesn’t it? “Tell me. You can tell me anything; you know that.”

His voice falters terribly when he finally speaks: 

“I mean, I feel like you already know. For the longest time, I wanted to be this... I dunno. This warrior, or whatever. And it never fit, no matter what I did, or how hard I worked, and I just-- I resented it so much. Being...” He shakes his head. “I just felt useless. But when I unlocked my Semblance, I had to let that go. And it was hard at first, it took time, but for a second there it finally started to feel like... like I knew my place. Where I belonged; what everyone needed from me. I was good at it. But then Penny needed--” He chokes on a sob, and has to stop and take several deep breaths before he can continue. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still useless. The idiot stuck on the wrong side of the glass, out of his league and forced to watch because someone else has to be the Maiden now and there’s nothing he can do about it. Only this time it’s worse, because this time I actually-- I--”

Unable to hold herself back anymore, she reaches for his hands; he squeezes her fingers tight, like a lifeline. “I understand,” she soothes, voice heavy like a vow. “Did you think I wouldn’t? I don’t think I have to remind you that I’m the only other person who knows what that feels like. To have been the one who killed her.”

He lets out an awful, cynical noise; a parody of a laugh. “Depends on who you ask,” he says in explanation, looking askance towards Ruby. Pyrrha sadly follows his gaze. Ruby’s shifted in her sleep, curled under her cape to be as small as possible with her head nestled in the crooks of Yang’s bent knees. Her arms are wrapped around Yang’s shins in a death grip, as though she fears her sister might fly away at any moment. Pyrrha’s heart aches for her; for the responsibility she carries. Weight Pyrrha could have helped shoulder... if only she’d been a little faster, a little more clever.

She shakes off the feeling; now’s not the time for regret. “But things have changed,” she says, bringing Jaune’s hands up to her mouth and kissing the knuckles. It will be a long time, she knows, before he believes there isn’t blood on them; maybe this small act can help. And if it doesn’t... she has other options. Maybe even a little levity, for once. “You’re not useless. You’re amazing. You’re a licensed Huntsman now; you’re accomplishing things you’d only dreamed of. All the mothers of Mantle adore you. You even got to go on a date with Weiss!”

He boggles at her, wrenching his hands away. “What?! That wasn’t a date, we were just hanging out with Oscar, we--” His jaw falls open, suddenly, and his eyes narrow once more. “Wait a minute. Are you teasing me?”

She grins, sheepish and caught. “I figured it was now or never to give it a go; I didn’t want to waste my last chance to try it. Nora always said it would be good for me.”

“To make fun of me?” he squawks, indignant.

She laughs. “To remind myself it’s okay to be a novice sometimes; that there are things I won’t instantly be good at.” She bites her lip, unable to stop her grin. “...And also to make fun of you, yes.”

He surges forward, then-- wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her closer, pressing a fierce, grateful kiss to her forehead. Then he does it again; then once more, at the bridge of her nose. And then a final time, against her lips. Quick; intense. Filled with meaning.

She’s got not breath in her, and still she’s breathless.

“I miss you so much,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against hers. His fingers thread themselves into the hair at the back of her skull, tangled into the base of her ponytail. “So much. I think about you all the time. Every day. Wondering how different things would be, if only...”

“I know,” she says, because she does. There’s more that she should say, probably-- that it’s good that he’s started to move on; that none of them can hold onto her forever. But she can’t quite bring herself to voice the words.

“It’s not fair,” he mutters, then sighs at the sound of it. “I mean, none of it is fair, but-- I feel like a jerk, I guess. That I’m the one who gets to see you, of all of us.”

“You’ll tell them I love them, won’t you? Ren and Nora. They...” They’re doing things she never did, is the thing. Maturing in ways she’ll never have the chance to. Learning that responsibility doesn’t mean putting it all on your own shoulders; that love doesn’t mean giving all of yourself away. It’s overwhelming, how proud she is of them for that. “They were on the right path, in Atlas. Don’t let them convince themselves otherwise.”

He nods, the movement of it levering her own head in shared agreement. “Anything else? Anyone else you’d like me to...?”

So many; too many. But one rises above the rest. “Tell my mother to stop leaving flowers,” she murmurs, wishing she had more to offer than that. “Tell her they belong in the garden; that I like to watch them grow. That’s-- the way it should be.”

“Okay,” he says, and relief rushes through her. “Okay. I will.”

Slowly, they both become aware once more of the gaggle of Huntresses sleeping just a few yards off. Pyrrha could leave dozens of messages with Jaune, if she wanted, but the people she most needs to speak to are right here, within arm’s reach. They need her guidance; it’s selfish not to provide it. She’s taken so long already. And yet...

Jaune beats her to voicing the thought: “I know we should probably wake them, but-- can it be just the two of us, for just a little longer? Please?”

She smiles, and brings a hand up to caress his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 22 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Things are changing for the better. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Difference, Sub Drop, vague mentions of trauma/dissociation, PTSD (mostly comfort) Word Count: 7.25k

MASTERLIST

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The dulcet, bustling sounds of the Dulles International Airport were more soothing than I expected. Normally, the massive crowds and constant barrage of information would make my brain go into overdrive, but there was something about Spencer being there that made it all turn to white noise. If I had to guess, I would say it was the feeling of trusting someone to take care of you.

I still hadn’t gotten used to it.

“Hey, I got you something.”

Even then, when he’d approached me from behind and gingerly placed the bag on my lap, I barely even flinched. I smelled the contents of the bag before I noticed the logo or managed to open it, but once I confirmed it was what I thought it was, my eyes immediately teared up.

“Oh my god,” I keened, pulling out the familiar blue cup holding a much too sweet, much too large cinnamon bun. Although my mind was running with a million things to say to express just how appreciative I was, I took a bite out of it before I said anything else.

“I love you so much,” I mumbled around a mouth full of pastry.

Spencer tried to respond, but after one glance at me, fingers and face already covered in frosting after only a few seconds, he burst out laughing. 

“You’re a complete mess,” he chastised, trying to cluck his tongue but failing in his laughter.

I just smiled back, not even bothering with the plastic utensils and enjoying the indulgence with absolutely childlike joy. It wasn’t even just the sugar or my fingers pressing into the warm, sticky dough that made the morning seem so much better; it was the way Spencer watched me.

With one arm leaned against the chair, his whole body was turned towards me. It was clear from the slightly glassy look in his exhausted eyes that he was also stuck trying to find the right words to say to express just how grateful he was that we could still have moments like that.

Those same eyes roamed over my figure with such an overtly intimate gleam that it almost made me blush. If he’d touched me, I definitely would have. But he kept his hands to himself, and eventually, buried them into his carry-on bag. I didn’t even look at what he was doing, too lost in the sweetness of being cared for.

That foolhardy trust was a mistake. Because, it turned out, Spencer Reid was a monster.

Without any warning at all, a cold wet wipe was dragged over my cheeks. I flinched back, only to find Spencer’s hand holding onto my head and stopping me from turning away. The madman even had the audacity to smile as he gingerly wiped the frosting from my cheeks and chin. Of course, considering the fact I was thrashing wildly away from him, it ended up mostly on my lips.

“Pfftbtb! Spencer!” I spit and whined, earning confused looks from basically everyone in the vicinity. What they would find when they looked over was him in a fit of laughter, continuing to try and clean my face, which was still covered in sugary frosting despite his best efforts to remove it.

“I thought you enjoyed the taste of alcohol,” he teased.

“First of all, no one does, and second—” I started, only to be cut off with a kiss over my much too clean mouth. I smiled, but only because it used to be my move. I wondered when exactly the tables had turned, and it became his job to shut me up with a kiss.

“I know,” he whispered, licking his lips just to cringe at the taste he’d forced on me, “I’m just joking.”

I decided then that the sight and shared disgust for ethyl alcohol were enough for me to forgive him for the time being. I let him clean the rest of the evidence of my greed from my face but decided to clean my fingers myself. I popped each one into my mouth in what I’d imagined was a very non-sexual manner, but Spencer still seemed to enjoy watching me as each digit was cleaned. Granted, he handed me another wipe seconds later. Damn germaphobe. Like he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth on a daily basis.

The rest of the treat was shared between us, with utensils this time, in a relative quiet. Brief giggles or sighs were all there was to be said. Once there was nothing left to fixate on, I was left only with my thoughts and Spencer’s eyes that still watched me like a horribly affectionate hawk.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumbled without realizing. I’d almost hoped he wouldn’t even hear it, or let it go without a conversation, but of course, he couldn’t do that.

“For what?”

“For making you do all of this,” I explained with a heavy sigh, “I feel like a big baby.”

Spencer’s hands came to brush away the stray strands of hairs from my face. They weren’t actually in the way of anything; I think he just wanted to make a better view. That alone was enough to make me smile, but that only seemed to make him feel guilty.

“Don’t apologize for this. This is my fault,” he said just as quietly. I mirrored his motion, running my fingers through his hair and watching as his mouth dropped open in a pleased smile.

“No, it’s not. You’re wonderful,” I said through my own. It was only a little bit sadder than his, but wasn’t that usually the case? I could only imagine what would happen the day we were both overflowing with nothing but joy. Before, that thought might lead me back to the bank, the place that ended our last purely happy encounter, but…

I looked at Spencer, with his mouth still slightly open and his head lolling back and forth with the little weight of my hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of anything bad. So I just thought of the picnic, instead. I thought of him licking my hand as we rolled in grass, and of his own hands working through my hair to make it into something besides a mess on my head.

I looked at Spencer, and I saw beautiful things. And the longer I played with his hair, the more relaxed and content he became. Of course, I would never be satisfied. His smile was the most beautiful thing to see, and I needed it to deal with the guilt still sitting like rocks in my stomach.

“Besides, it’ll be so much easier putting down my work and actually getting sleep when you’re waiting for me,” Spencer slurred, his neck relaxing to drop the weight of his head against my palm.

“I hope not too easy. The world needs you, Dr. Reid,” I kindly reminded.

His eyes fluttered open, trapping me in dark honey irises filled with pure adoration. “You need me, too,” he whispered.

“Arrogant bastard.”

Naturally, he took it as a compliment, his smile growing into a smirk as he answered, “A little bit.”

He should have known better than to give me that look, though, because within seconds my hands fell from his hair. A small whimper came from the pitiful man at the loss. It was quickly followed by a sharp inhale when my hand grabbed his thigh.

“You think I’ll actually let you sleep?” I whispered.

Aside from the obviously tense quadriceps beneath my palms, Spencer showed very little response to my suggestion. Well, rather, he showed little arousal to it. There was a reaction— just not the one I expected.

He looked... nervous.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that...”

“What?” I shot back immediately, my hands withdrawing and tugging on my shirt while I instinctively tried to hide from him. I was trying to look less guilty, but I was acutely aware that my actions screamed the opposite. So, I tried to combat my obvious anxiety with a voice that was far louder than it needed to be. “I swear I’m on all my medications. I haven’t missed a single therapy appointment, either!”

Spencer’s hands were gentle and cautious when they came to my wrists, gently pulling them away from my chest. “I know. I trust you,” he said with a sad but still genuine smile, “I just wanted to ask you how you wanted to handle this.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” The words tumbled out of me in the least convincing manner. Spencer was too smart to fall for them, although I could see a playfulness bloom through his features.

“No offense, but you just cried over a cinnamon bun,” he said, unable to stop a few chuckles from mixing with the words.

“It was just really good, okay?” I scoffed, tearing my hands away from him and feigning offense despite his little disclaimer. From there, I sank down in the shitty airport chair and refused to look up at him. I could still feel his cheeky, arrogant little grin watching me.

Eventually, after I thought we’d suffered enough and I could already feel my legs going numb, I weakly conceded, “Fine. What are my options?”

“Well, basically anything. But the main thing to consider is...”

He paused. It was one of the sure signs that he was taking the situation very seriously. Usually, he would just spout out whatever came to mind and sort out the details later. But this time, he spoke slowly and purposefully. “Majority of our relationship has been based on physicality. Whether it was sex or healing or hurting and I... I want to give you the option to not do that. At least, not for a little while.”

A feeling of dread filled my blood that I could suddenly hear rushing through my ears. I didn’t tell my heart to beat faster, but it did. My hands that had once again crossed over my chest suddenly itched to hold him.

“Why would I not want to?” I asked, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt and occasionally glancing up at him only to realize that he wasn’t looking at me, either. I tried not to read into it. After all, he was the profiler— not me.

“It’s not a matter of avoiding it. I just need you to know it’s not expected of you.”

Without shifting my body at all, my eyes were glued to him. The strain of the angle and the sound of those words caused them to burn, but I refused to let tears fall again. He wasn’t rejecting me, right? He was telling me that he loved me. There was no reason to be scared.

I wasn’t used to that yet, either. But I wanted to be. And judging by the way his hand cupped my face and guided it back to his, I think Spencer felt those anxieties. He tried to will them away by pressing his forehead against mine and letting his thumb ghost over flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be scared. I just need you to know that we don’t have to have sex for you to be worth my time and attention.”

The tears grew bigger under his scrutiny, but they didn’t fall until he closed his eyes. I think that was why he did.

“I love you,” he assured me with a whisper, “I’m not going to deny you affection or intimacy if that’s what you want. I just need you to know that it is always an option.”

Normally when Spencer pulled away, the air felt cold in his absence. For so long, my body had felt lonelier and less than without him. But in that busy, bustling airport, I felt just as loved even when his hands fell away and he sat back up in his chair.

For those who might’ve been watching, they would just see two lovesick idiots whispering sweet nothings in a flagrantly public display of affection. They wouldn’t have heard the weight of the words or felt the way my perception of the whole world shifted from them.

Spencer smiled again, still nervous, but also clear and authentic.

“I’m sorry,” he told me with his eyes fixated on my hands in my lap. He made no move to hold it, although I could tell he wanted to. I suspect he wanted me to focus on the words, so I tried my hardest. I almost asked him what he was sorry for, but he answered first, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

A lump quickly formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. When that failed, and I felt the telltale signs of tears filling the sides of my eyes, I did the only thing I could think of to hide. I threw my arms around the only thing that never failed to make them better. I buried my face in Spencer’s neck and laughed along with him as my eyelashes and breath tickled the soft skin.

After a brief second of listening to our hearts settle into a matching rhythm and letting our body heat sink into the clothes between us, Spencer groaned, “How are you still sticky?”

—————————————————

A couple weeks prior, the thought of being alone in a hotel room waiting on Spencer to finish work for the day would have instilled the fear of God in me. I would have done just about anything to avoid the exact situation I found myself in now.

But honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. It was the perfect opportunity for me to force myself to slow down. Granted, that mostly just meant that I would watch bad TV in a bathrobe with overpriced food, but... like they say, change is as good as a rest.

The hardest part about it was actually just convincing myself that I deserved the rest. While I was taking naps and trying to do anything to unwind, I knew what Spencer was doing.

Well, I had some idea of what he was doing. Reality was probably worse than my imagination— it usually was with his job. At first, I had let that guilt get in the way, but at some point over the nine hours, I realized that I would have to find a way to cheer myself up. Because as soon as I heard that small beep of the keycard, I would have to find a way to remind him of all the beautiful things in the world.

No pressure, right?

The sun had already started to set, and I hadn’t heard from him in hours. We’d started the day out with a constant line of contact, but over time he became too busy. Which, again, just meant that I would have to work even harder when he finally arrived.

Luckily for me, by the time Spencer had arrived, there was no need for a pep talk or acting of any kind. My heart immediately started to race the second I heard his voice down the hall. I had already bolted from the bed and positioned myself just far enough from the door that I could jump forward the second it opened far enough to fit me.

And when it did, I pounced.  

“Spencer!” I cheered, throwing myself into his arms that had fully been expecting me. Still, the two of us crashed back against the frame and I heard the breath be knocked out of him from the impact.

“Hey, little girl,” he managed to laugh with empty lungs that made it impossible to forget how tired he was. His arm eventually settled at my lower back, lifting me slightly so he could move us from the door’s path. But when we were out of harm’s way and the latch clicked softly in place, Spencer didn’t let me go. In fact, he tossed his bag into the chair at the desk and wrapped his other arm around me, too.

“How was work?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“You know...” he muttered with a crackling voice, “awful.”

If that hadn’t given it away, the way he buried his face in my neck certainly did. His hands were even more insistent, pressing into my back as he led us both to the bed.

I had to laugh, though, as the realization dawned on him that he’d have to let go of me if he didn’t want to track filthy shoes in our bed. A heavy sigh fell from his lips when he finally released me, practically throwing me onto the terrible mattress before taking his seat next to me.

“I missed you,” I announced in the ambient noise of the cheapest hotel that the government could justify using.  

Spencer looked up at me, but the words took a little longer to register. I could only imagine how busy his mind must’ve been, and the guilt quickly came creeping back.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, albeit with a tint of sadness in his tone. But the longer we stayed there, the calmer he seemed. It was such a powerful effect of our proximity that by the time he did lay down next to me, he seemed like the man that had wiped frosting from my face in the middle of a busy airport.

Spencer must have noticed the shift, too, because no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he had flipped over, throwing his leg over me to pin me down against the bed.

My initial reaction was to keep laughing, but the noises were muffled by the persistent kisses he gave. They started at my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose but landed on my lips. I felt the tension leave his shoulders as he lowered more of his body weight against me, and I reveled in the feeling of his presence.

“God, I needed this,” he growled just before his tongue slipped into my mouth.

Everything we’d talked about at the airport felt a lifetime away, and as soon as I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh, I only had one goal in mind. I forced my hands between us, trying to remove his tie with the hope that it would shed some of the thoughts he’d brought back from work.

But then it all stopped. Spencer had pulled away, grabbing onto my wrist and pinning it to the bed beside me once more.

“No, we don’t need to do that. I just wanted to kiss you,” he panted through heavy breath and swollen lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them long enough to answer, but it was clear from the look on his face that any plea I gave would be for naught, anyway. “I’m honestly way too exhausted to give you the attention you deserve.”

I believed him. Even when he hadn’t slept for nearly two days, he still looked livelier then. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with sleep and more to do with emotions. I wanted to help him with that, too, like he did for me, but I didn’t know how. So, I did the only thing I did know how to do well, which was to place a soft peck against his lips until they turned up into another smile.

“Get some rest, old man,” I murmured, “I’ll be here to kiss again when you wake up.”

“Let me hold you,” he answered immediately, nuzzling his face against my neck like a puppy seeking any shred of attention. I couldn’t tell if I was laughing because of the way his hair tickled or because it was so strange to see him so vulnerable while still in dominant, albeit disheveled, work clothes.

“Fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

Continuing the trend of being remarkably adorable, Spencer giggled as he rolled onto his side. I was almost tempted to turn towards him, but he had already wrapped his arms around me before I could decide. He pulled me as close as he could before his lips once again settled against the column of my throat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he stated absently. It was so quiet that I’m not sure he’d actually planned on me hearing it. But when I reached a hand up to run through his hair, he spoke with a shaky, relieved whine, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

A gentle, warm exhale breezed over my skin as he continued, “I love you so much.”

From that point, any words he might’ve whispered were muffled through sloppy, sleepy kisses over my neck and shoulder. His hands, though slow, were still rough and purposeful as they pawed at me in a way that was only vaguely sexual. It was more like he was trying to prove to himself that he was actually here with me, and my breasts just happened to be the first thing he could grab.

That still didn’t stop my mind from running wild. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I focused on the way his breath felt against areas still wet from his kisses. And when I arched my back, I felt his hips press harder.

Eventually, when I could trust myself to speak without whimpering, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to...”

I peeked back at him before continuing, having noticed a lull in his kisses. Sure enough, Spencer was fast asleep, his lips still attached to my shoulder. I had to chuckle at the sight, but my heart did hurt for him. I couldn’t imagine how tired he must have been to fall asleep then, and still in his clothes, much less.

The guilt over being the main cause of his tiredness was enough to keep me still for at least two hours. I spent that time slowly inching to a more comfortable position, only to be squished seconds later by Spencer. Even in his sleep, it seemed he was terrified of the prospect of me slipping from his arms. He was just being dramatic, though. It’s not like I had anywhere to go.

Wait, that sounded wrong. Truthfully, there were many places I could go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with Spencer, tangled in his long limbs and tickled by his hair that had grown long enough to gracelessly flop onto my face regardless of position.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to leave at all.

But I did. Inch by inch, I carefully slipped from Spencer’s arms. Against all odds, I managed to maneuver through the death grip he had on me and plop down on the ground beside the bed. My mind found that to be the perfect time to recall the lecture he’d given me about how suitcases, and more specifically, their wheels, were the most dangerous bacteria-laden aspects of traveling, but I dismissed the thought shortly after I stood again.

I didn’t want to leave Spencer’s embrace. I’m not really sure why I did. There wasn’t even really a particularly angsty reasoning for it. I just had this feeling, this tingling on my skin and a weight in my stomach that told me I was meant to be doing something different.

The only problem was that I had literally no idea what the fuck that something different was.

So, naturally, I did what every young child does when their parents had grown tired of their restless children jumping on the hotel bed. I grabbed the keycard and the ice bucket and set out on a very thrilling journey to find the vending room. The first part was the hardest. It was shutting the door to return the room to darkness, knowing that Spencer was alone in bed.

It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. I slipped from the room into the horrible yellow lighting of the halls with the dizzying wallpaper and patterned carpet without another thought. I’d hoped that the walk might bring me answers to the mood I was currently wrestling with, but I was wrong. Because it basically only took me three doors to find the room that I was looking for.

Great.

I threw the door open haphazardly, actually contemplating grabbing the ice and returning to bed no wiser than I had left it. But when the door swung shut behind me, the humming from the machines bled into my brain and started to cover all the other thoughts. It was warmer than my room, as well as smaller and quieter. Of course, it was also remarkably less private, but it was also like 2am. If someone came in to find a strange girl sitting on the floor next to the ice machine, that was their own fault.

In a strange way, it was the most peaceful I’d been in a long time. As much as I loved being with Spencer, these circumstances made it hard for me to not feel like I didn’t belong. Probably because I didn’t. He was here on work, a life that he’d tried very hard to keep away from me. I didn’t blame him for that, either. I was sure he’d gotten a number of questions from Morgan and Garcia about my presence, but he hadn’t shared them with me. I’d even asked him, just so I could concoct my own retaliatory questions for the nosiest of them, but he just laughed the question away.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just the realization that Spencer had a life of his own and I was just starting to see it for the first time. I was learning so much about him and honestly… None of it was bad. Most of it was just downright silly. Things like prank wars and physics magic and careful, chemistry-based improvements to shitty coffee. I was just too busy realizing that I was falling even more in love with Spencer to notice anything else.

Including, apparently, the sound of the door to the room opening. Trust me when I say that was saying a lot; the presence of Aaron Hotchner was not easy to miss.

“Can I join you?” His voice filled the room despite its low volume, and I followed the sound with a small smile that grew at the sight of him in casual clothing. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it sure did make him less intimidating than our previous encounters.

“Sure,” I said as I pulled the still-empty ice bucket into my lap. Once he took his seat beside me, I rolled my head toward him to try and figure out what exactly he had planned. But after another few seconds of silence, I realized that he was doing the same thing I was.

Improvising.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked, insistent that it wasn’t my job in this scenario to come up with the advice.

Hotch seemed equally lost, and with a slight shake of his head, he explained, “I only heard the door open once. Figured it was worth a trip to get some ice to check.”

He held up his matching ice bucket, to which I lifted mine to knock together like the worst kind of toast. It at least succeeded in making him laugh, although the sound was short-lived. We both recognized the shoddy attempt at humor was just masking the things I didn’t want to talk about.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

He had never really been a beat-around-the-bush sort of guy.

“Freakin’ profilers,” I affectionately muttered back, which only earned me a playful warning glance that I, for once, didn’t choose to ignore. “I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s probably the 3-hour nap I took when we got here.”

Then, deciding that still didn’t describe the situation well enough, I tagged on, “You know, while you all were working and saving the world and what not.”

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of the BAU: Do not ever speak poorly about yourself. Not even an implication.

“Rest is important. No reason for you to suffer for us,” he returned without pause.

“You sound like Spencer,” I said through a half-hearted laugh.  

Hotch shared my laughter, causing them both to grow in volume as he snarkily replied, “And who do you think taught him?”

“Right. Sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender, but we both knew it would be harder than that.

But that was okay. He came prepared.

“So, what else is wrong?”

“So persistent, you lot,” I chuckled. I half expected him to let it go, but he just turned to stare at me with that usually stoic face contorted with an obvious reprimand. I swear, I didn’t even realize his eyebrows could move that far. But there were, raised up his forehead as his cheeks dimpled from his little, knowing smirk.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “Just thinking about things and I was scared I would wake up Spencer. Like he would feel my anxiety in his sleep.”

“What’s making you anxious?”

I paused. For a moment, I thought about lying. Not the kind of transparent lie that you do when you say that everything is fine. The kind of lie that also contained the truth. There were many things that had happened lately that would explain my anxiety, and they would be believable enough because I did still feel them.

“Everything. You know. The usual,” I said softly, attempting to stall.

Because that wasn’t what the problem was that day. The problems that day were… complicated in a different way than the usual angst. So, I let the thoughts marinate for a moment, considering the different outcomes and deciding which I really wanted.

I hadn’t let myself want things in a while. Maybe that realization was why I decided to just tell him the truth, despite how embarrassing it felt.

“It’s not bad anxiety, necessarily. It’s just this realization that… I don’t know.”

“Take a guess,” he pressed, feeling the hesitance as I stood at the brink of what I really wanted to say. The real answer to why I was sitting on the floor of an ice machine vending room with my boyfriend’s boss, who also happened to be our shared adoptive father figure.

I took a deep breath, clutching onto the ice bucket so tightly that my knuckles blanched and the edges imprinted on my hand until I blurted out, “That I think I’m ready for something else. Something more.”

We both stopped then, enjoying the noises of machinery and the barely-there echo of my words.

“Something more, huh?” he repeated more clearly.

I didn’t appreciate the way the words were practically sung through a clever grin, and before he could take that train of thought any further, I stopped him with an answer too loud to not be deemed defensive.

“Not like that! Not like, let’s run off and elope and have lots of babies tomorrow!“ He didn’t look convinced, so I continued with a much more believable promise. “Don’t worry, I’m not sniping your genius.”

“Thank goodness,” he replied sarcastically. I appreciated his ability to keep things lighthearted, and for a second I did have to laugh at the fact he was such a different person when he wasn’t at work. He must’ve taught Spencer more than I realized. And, in turn, Spencer was teaching me. I just wasn’t sure when the lesson would be over, or if it had already ended.

“I’ve just held onto my independence and this… heavy bullshit for so long, and I’m a little worried about what that means,” I thought aloud.

Again, Hotch had read my mind, or at least, my body language, and demanded the answer he saw written across my features. “What do you think it means?”

“Do you always give fatherly advice like this to whiny girls in ice machine rooms?” I shot back with my first attempt at a glare. It only lasted until he flashed me a toothy smile and his own clever retort.

“No. Now answer the question.”

“I had to try,” I grumbled, only to be shut down again in an instant.

“I’ll forgive you when you answer.”

With a begrudging sigh, I tried to do what he asked. But I only barely got through one word before they turned to a lump in my throat. I choked on the words strongly enough that tears I hadn’t anticipated began pooling on my eyelashes. The power of a profiler, I guess, to know I was on the verge of an emotional catharsis before I did.

“I know we all change. I know that no one stays the same. We all go through things and they change who we are. And that can be good, right? But…”

Once the words started, they wouldn’t stop, turning and tumbling from clumsy lips still chapped from incessant biting. But teeth and willpower couldn’t stop the feelings that caused them, and if Spencer had taught me anything, he’d taught me that speaking a feeling into existence was half of the battle to let it go.

“But sometimes it’s gotta just be bad, right? Like, we’ve got to acknowledge that sometimes we change in an irreparable way that’s just bad for no reason.”

“Right,” he very eloquently returned. Normally, I would have bullied him for giving such a simple response to such a complex question, but at that moment I was just grateful that I could continue. Heaven knows Spencer wouldn’t have let me.

“So, what if that happened to me? What if one day I wake up and finally find out the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself?”

When I turned to the man then, I saw a genuine confusion for the first time that night. I couldn’t tell you where I’d lost him, but it was clear that he heard something in me that alerted him that some deeper rooted issues were just now finding the light of day.

Of course, in this situation, it was really just a flickering fluorescent bulb.

“What question is that?” he whispered, like his voice would intrude in the thoughts.

But the truth was they didn’t feel like they belonged to me, either. That was the problem. I’d spent so long with memories that felt like a dream. I saw them playback when I closed my eyes, just to open them and find the same images reflecting in Spencer’s. I knew they were real because they were written into my skin, yet my mind rioted against them so hard that instead, I just started to think that this body wasn’t mine, either.

“How much of me died that day?”

The question sat with us, taking form in the reflection on the metallic surface that hummed a somehow somber tune. And even though I knew I was looking at myself, it didn’t feel that way. When I saw Hotch move in the background, I turned to him just in time to feel his hand resting over mine on the metal pail in my hands.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

I felt the warmth flow through him, bringing life back into a hand that suddenly started to feel like me again. His voice shared the same rejuvenating quality as he quietly but confidently answered, “I think… it’s much less than you think.”

As tears slid down my face, they felt less like the beginning of a downpour and more like the drizzle that follows the storm. I let them fall without wiping them away, hoping that as they fell away, they would take the fear with them.

After they did drip from my jaw, I laughed. I couldn’t hold it in because it seemed so silly how much lighter I felt after losing just a few droplets of saline. But, realistically, I knew it had more to do with his hand still holding mine.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, selfishly stealing his body warmth as I croaked, “Thanks for talking to me. I know I must sound like a stupid kid to you sometimes.”

“Not at all,” he said with that tone that was difficult to discount, “You sound just like you should.”

“Can I tell you something now?” I asked between sniffles.

“I’d like that,” he mirrored.

“You’re like… a really good dad.”

It was his turn to shed tears, then, which he did. They were much manlier and less silly than mine, but they were there. I almost accused him of creating them just to make me feel less embarrassed, but before I could, he’d enveloped me in a hug that was way too genuine to question it.

As I hugged him back, I realized just how badly I’d missed moments like this. I’d fooled myself into really believing that loneliness and independence were the same things for so long that when I was granted the support all human beings need, I didn’t know how to respond.

But that was the beauty of family, right? You don’t have to try to earn their love. They already thought you were worthy.

So I hugged him harder, ignoring the clanking of the machines and the sounds of crowds of people stumbling back from bars in the hall that could walk in any moment. I wasn’t embarrassed to be sad anymore. I was just a person. It happens sometimes.

“Speaking of, it’s well past your bedtime,” Hotch said finally, gracelessly shattering the moment in a very dad-like fashion.

“I walked into that one.”

Following that trend, he continued with a gentle bump of his shoulder against me, “If you don’t want to go yet, you can talk to me about that something more.”

I practically shoved him off me, huffing between chuckles and shaking my head in the hope that he wouldn’t notice how it flushed.

“Please. Spencer talks about that stuff, but he’s all talk.”

At first, Hotch just nodded. But after a few wayward glances, he confessed, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

That time the warmth I felt came from within, carried by butterflies that had burst in my stomach at the thought. I almost asked him what he meant, but then felt the familiar, creeping embarrassment that came along with loving someone a little too much.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.

I knew he was reading my expressions, but I couldn’t hide the smile, no matter how hard I tried. He still had the decency to ignore my blatant displays of excitement, instead asking the question we both knew the answer to already.

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I…” Such a simple syllable still seemed like too much, and I stuttered it a few more times before I landed on an answer that wasn’t too humiliating. “I guess he’ll have to ask and find out.”

“I hope it turns out well when he does,” he said, pausing to correct with a sarcastic, “Sorry. If he does.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sighed heavily. It was a last ditch effort to hide the way my cheeks were still stuck in a full-faced smile. I turned to see him with a very similar expression.

I knew just how to change that. When he stood up and offered me a hand, I took it and let him do half the work for me. But once we were on equal footing, I placed my hand on his shoulder with a complacent pat.

“You know, if it doesn’t turn out well, you’ll have to figure out how to comfort the both of us.”

“The horror,” he jokingly cringed with a shake of his head.

I almost left then, but thankfully he’d remembered the actual purpose for the room we’d had our impromptu surrogate-father-daughter moment in. He grabbed my ice pail from my hand and dropped it under the dispenser without saying anything else, letting the chaotic crunching signal the real end of the moment.

Once it was over, I looked down at the now freezing bucket in my hands that suddenly felt warm. Then I looked back up at him and saw a pride that I wasn’t expecting.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” I said as the last remaining bit of tension fell from my shoulders.

“Goodnight,” he answered, opening the door and watching as I padded down the hall. He waited until I slipped back into my room before his door clicked shut, and mine quickly followed.

That tiny sound was just enough to wake the man in the bed, and when I turned to him, the sight took my breath away. Because there was Spencer, the man I loved, reaching his arms out into the darkness and grabbing the empty air as he whined, begging me to come to him faster.

And I did. Tossing the bucket onto the table, I rushed over to him and threw myself into the bed beside him without any grace. With a similar restlessness, Spencer wound his arms around me as soon as I was within his reach, pulling me as close as he could without sacrificing all the air in my lungs.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against my hair.

“Don’t worry. I’m back,” I whispered back. The words were lost in his shirt, but he somehow heard them well enough to ask, “Where did you go?”

I didn’t know how exactly to describe what had happened, so I told one of those lies I’d contemplated earlier. “To get ice,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was just a very inefficient summary.

Spencer didn’t care, either. In fact, he giggled at the thought, nuzzling his face down into my neck and tickling me with his lips as he mumbled, “Let me warm you up.”

It did succeed in warming me up, but only because it turned into a fit of giggles and more intense tickling. His fingers danced along my sides and his whispers turned back to the same kisses that we’d started the night with.

But it couldn’t last forever. The poor guy still had only had a couple hours of sleep, and I felt the excitement wear off all at once, leaving him only half-awake on the pillow beside me. He still found the energy to look at me like there were stars in my eyes.

“Where did you really go?” he asked again, dragging his hand over my cheek like he could see the tears I’d shed just a few moments before.

“Just ice. I promise,” I answered, ending the thought with a quick kiss on his palm. When I could tell that he didn’t believe that, I brought my hands up to his face as I snickered, “See? Cold hands.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he just leaned forward, letting our noses touch and pulling me in to him again. His eyes fluttered shut, and I could almost see the way his body started to return to sleep as he barely muttered, “No cold feet, though?”

It took me a moment to register the words, and once I did, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Cold feet for what?” I whispered back.

Spencer’s answer only came in the form of a dreamy laugh. He didn’t open his eyes again, instead choosing to drop his face back into my shoulder just like he had before. This time there were even fewer kisses against my neck before he went still again.

Once again, I was left with my thoughts. Only this time they weren’t scary. Because marrying Spencer Reid was not the worst thing to imagine by far. In fact, there were very few things I’d ever wanted more.

—————————————————

| Part 23 |

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Wooed

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Cursing; Fluff Notes: I watched a supercut of Marcus Pike’s scenes and uh... Yeah. I’m in love? also i’ve never written for this man before so i’m sorry if this is awful Summary: You hadn’t been on a date since you’d started working for the bureau; truth be told, you’d been nursing a crush on Marcus for the last few months. 

When you told him, he seemed… Horrified. You couldn’t believe you were even having this discussion, but, hell, when you’re on a stakeout with someone, you run out of other things to talk about (even after you’d grilled him for the details of the band that he used to be in). Frankly, it was a wonder that it had taken you that long to reach relationships - the two of you had been in that car for nearly three hours. You’d known that Marcus had been married and divorced once; you hadn’t known about his most recent relationship, before he’d moved to DC, though. And after he’d spilled his guts, it was only fair that you do the same.

To you, it wasn’t that odd. The relationships that you’d been in had mostly started as friendships, and had grown to more. They weren’t whirlwind romances.

“So?” Marcus had asked, frowning, shaking his head. “So… So what you’re describing wasn’t, like… Part of the package,” You shrugged. “They didn’t even try?” “Try what?” You laughed. “You know, taking you out, buying you flowers, introducing you to their friends--” “I usually knew their friends already.” “Flowers?” “Allergic.” “Taking you out.” “I mean, sometimes, sure. That’s par for the course no matter who you’re dating, right?” Marcus leaned back in the driver’s seat, watching you, and you turned to eye the house that you guys had been watching. There had been no change; no car had pulled up, no one had come outside. “You’re allergic to all flowers?” You rolled your eyes. “I haven’t given every single flower in the world an individual whiff to make sure, but pollen makes me sneeze, yeah.” 

The two of you settled into quiet again; Marcus’ focus returned to the house, but you could tell that his mind was still elsewhere. “Okay, tell me something,” He said after a few minutes. “Hm?” “Your last relationship.” “Mhm?” “Started as a friend and… Became more?” “Mhm.” 

“Once that happened, you guys just, what, flipped a switch?” You considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “Things were the way they had been, just with a...Physical component. Why are you so hung up on this?” You added, turning to look at him. 

“Cause, everyone oughta be… I don’t know… Wooed-- at least once.” Your brows rose. “Wooed?” You repeated, amused. “Yes. Wooed,” Marcus doubled down, nodding. 

“When was the last time you were wooed?” “It’s been a while.” “So you’re overdue and projecting,” You decided, turning back to the house. “I am not--! I am not projecting. Would I mind it? Of course not, but I’ve been wooed before. You’ve never had the experience, and that is a shame.” You rolled your eyes as the two of you settled back into an easy quiet. “... I bet you’d like it.” “Hm?” “Being wooed.” “You realize if I had a nickel for every single time you’ve said ‘wooed’ in the last ten minutes, I’d have twenty cents?” You retorted. If you had just a touch less composure, you were pretty sure you’d combust. Your very attractive, very available, very nice-smelling boss was talking about wooing in close-quarters. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him again; you could hardly stand the wide-eyed puppy-like way he’d blinked at you before when you’d told him that your ex-boyfriends had never been particularly romantic. But Marcus just chuckled despite your prickly tone. The sound was cut off by his cell phone ringing. You glanced down at it before turning back to the house. “Pike,” Marcus answered. You waited, listening for a few moments. “Uh huh… Thanks, Wallace.” You glanced over at Pike as he hung up. “Did they get a hit?” You asked. “Yeah, Wallace and Fernandez are tailing him now, so we’re clear,” Pike said, setting his phone aside and starting the car up. “Sweet,” You sat up, refastening your seatbelt. You and Pike chatted idly as he drove back to your apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” You pushed down a yawn as you undid your seatbelt and reached back to grab your jacket from the backseat. “Yeah… Hey.” You stopped at Marcus’ voice, turning to look at him again. And damnit, there were those wide brown eyes again. “Yes?” You asked. “Are you busy tomorrow night?” “No, why?” “Lemme show you what you’ve been missing.” If it were anyone else, you’d be convinced that he was putting you on, and you’d shrug it off and laugh. But there was something just a little too soft, a little too sincere in the way he spoke. “...Pike, you don’t have to do this because you feel bad about my supposed lack of wooing--” “Well, maybe my reason is a little more selfish than that,” He shrugged a shoulder, a bashful smile tugging at his lips, “Whaddaya say? No pressure, either way.” 

You believed Marcus when he said that there was no pressure; he didn’t seem the type to make your life hell if you turned him down. Thing was, you didn’t want to turn him down. “Alright, Pike,” You nodded, adding, “Woo me,” Before getting out of the car. -- You wound up out of the office and tailing the suspect with Wallace for most of the following day, so you didn’t need to worry about keeping a cool head in the office around Pike. That was a relief-- you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so antsy. You hadn’t been on a date since you’d started working for the bureau; truth be told, you’d been nursing a crush on Marcus for the last few months. 

The man was sweet and incredibly considerate. He seemed to take notice of the little things about you - how you took your coffee, when you’d gotten your hair trimmed, the fact that you preferred french toast to pancakes (which he told you was just weird). Your time chatting during the stakeout had only confirmed the feeling you’d had since meeting the man: you wanted to get to know him better. You and Wallace were able to pick up the suspect and bring him in for questioning. By the time you’d filled out your report, it was nearly time for you to leave for the night. You knocked on the half-open door to Marcus’ office, holding up your report. He waved you inside. “Wallace said everything went fine,” He said. “No complaints. Guy’s in holding for now.” “Good.” Marcus took your report, but instead of looking over it like he typically did, he looked up at you. “You still up for later?” He asked. “Mhm.” “You sure?” “Uh-huh.” “Positive?” “You trying to talk me out of it?” “Nope. Just checking.” “Where are we going?” “Oh, no. It’s a surprise,” Marcus chuckled, “But I’ll pick you up at seven?” “Seven,” You nodded. -- Somehow you’d thought you’d be less nervous the closer it got to seven. You couldn’t imagine where Marcus was taking you, and you had spent way too long worrying that what you were going to wear wasn’t going to be nice enough, or would be too nice. You didn’t want to look like you’d tried too hard, or like you hadn’t tried at all.

You’d wound up in one of your favorite dresses, a quilted black leather jacket, and a pair of booties. Depending on what you saw Marcus wearing when he answered the door, you could either ask him to fasten a necklace you were considering (which would dress the outfit up a little more), or leave it. You jumped a little at the sound of your doorbell. You took a deep breath, walking over to the door and opening it. Marcus was standing outside in a plum button down, with a dark tie and a dark blazer. He was not subtle in looking you over, but you didn’t take much note of that. You were too distracted by the bouquet of flowers in his hands. Your brows rose. “First of all, you look beautiful. Second of all, before you worry about sniffling,” He raised a single finger to stop you, “I did some research. These are low-pollen, least likely to cause reactions to people that are allergic: Sunflowers, lilies, roses,” he pointed to one of each. You took in the sight of them, the delicate petals of the white roses and lilies, and the splashes of yellow from the sunflowers, and you felt an odd warmth in your chest - one that you were certain wasn’t the result of an allergic reaction. You reached out, taking them from Marcus and looking down at them. You hesitated, before screwing your face up, taking in two breaths and going, “Ah-- Ah--!” You met Marcus’ eye, quickly adding, “Kidding,” and giving Martcus a wide smile, “They’re beautiful, thank you.” 

Marcus put his hand on his chest, laughing shakily. “Okay, you-- scared the crap out of me, jeez.” “I couldn’t help myself,” You teased, grinning up at him, “And you look gorgeous, too.” “Thank you. Now come on, joker,” He chuckled, taking a step back. You grabbed your purse from where you’d hung it on the coat hook by the door, following Marcus to his car. You reached for the door handle, but heard, “Ah-ah.” You raised a brow, taking a step back as Marcus held the door open for you. “Thank you,” You said. “Of course,” He winked before shutting the door behind you. -- You held the flowers in your lap the entire ride, idly running your fingers over the petals. You really couldn’t understand what Marcus had been fussing about during the stakeout, but you had to admit, you were already feeling… Slightly wooed. Not that you’d tell Marcus that... ...Not that you needed to tell Marcus that, you were pretty sure he could tell. Especially when he parked the car. You were hesitant to put the flowers in the backseat, and he’d chuckled. “They’ll be here when we get back, sweetheart,” He’d teased, “Promise. Go on-- And don’t you dare reach for that door handle.” “Better move fast, I’m pretty quick on the draw.”

“So I’ve seen.” -- Marcus had picked an upscale American Bistro - somewhere neither of you had been before. You’d been a little worried that all you’d have to talk about was work. And work did come up, sure, but it was hardly the only thing that was discussed. The time that you’d spent together on the stakeout had gotten a lot of the awkward first date getting-to-know-you questions out of the way.

-- You found out that there was more to Marcus’ wooing game than a bouquet of flowers and some dinner. After the two of you ate (and he paid, though you’d heavily protested and insisted on paying “next time”; you’d gotten a smile from him that was wider than the Potomac), you went on a walk. Your hands had brushed together a handful of times before Marcus had caught hold of yours. It had been a loose hold at first, giving you a chance to pull your hand away. You’d tightened your grip on Marcus’ hand, and his smile had widened, gentle and generous. -- “Okay, this technically doesn’t count toward the wooing, since you paid,” Marcus argued as the two of you stepped out of an ice cream shop with cups in hand. “Maybe I’m wooing you a little,” You retorted, bumping Marcus’ hip with your own, “Thought we agreed you were past due, too. How’s the blueberry?” “Here,” Marcus held his spoon out to you. You leaned up, taking the offered treat and humming, leaning away and licking your lips. “Good?” “Tasty.” “How’s the cinnamon?” You held your spoon up to Marcus, smiling as he took his time taking a taste. He hummed. “I like blueberry better,” He said honestly. “Figures. Weirdos that prefer pancakes sure do have odd opinions.” “Alright, you’re cute, but you will not get away with insulting pancakes, sweetheart.” “Just saying, I’ve never met a pancake that I’ve liked.” “We should fix that.” “You’re just out to fix every single wrong in my life, huh?” “If you’ll let me.” “I’ve got a wobbly coffee table, you gonna fix that next?” “I’ve got a newspaper in my car that’s a couple of days old, I’m sure we could balance it out.” --

He walked you to your door, too. Dating wasn’t new to you, and what Marcus was doing may’ve been a bunch of… Seemingly little things, but you could feel the difference. “So?” Marcus asked as the two of you neared your front door. You looked up from your bouquet (you were still stunned it hadn’t made you sneeze yet) and raised a brow. “So?” You returned, stopping on your doorstep. “Was I right?” He raised a brow. “...You were not wrong. Wooing is severely underrated… And you’re freaky good at it, dude, I mean-- You should be teaching a course.” Marcus laughed, head ducking bashfully. You smiled, biting your lip a little. “I am glad you enjoyed it. And I appreciated the fact that it wasn’t one-sided,” He peered down at you from under his lashes, stepping a little closer, “Though there is… Typically one more component to wooing.” “Oh? Something you managed to forget or something we just didn’t get to?” 

 “Just didn’t get to,” Marcus backed you up against your door frame, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “And what exactly would that--” You started to tease. You didn’t get to finish asking, which was fine - you kind of already knew the answer, had kinda gotten the hint already, but it kinda didn’t matter. Marcus had been generous all night - with his time, his touches, his smiles, his winks. He was just as generous with kisses. It felt like just a whisper at first - a caress, barely. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes falling closed as Marcus tipped his head to the side, brushing his lips more firmly against yours. You leaned up, chasing the touch, and heard yourself sigh as his lips pressed to yours. You raised a hand from his bouquet, sliding it around the back of his neck. You melted a little as you felt Marcus hum against your lips. You opened your eyes as Marcus leaned away. You licked your lips, tipping your head back against the door frame as Marcus looked down at you with dark, hazy eyes. “Would you, um… Would you like to come inside?” You offered. “Was my wooing that effective, or is this still about your coffee table?” Marcus asked, sliding his hands down your shoulders. “Well, you did leave that old newspaper in the car.” “Oh, I can go grab it,” Marcus offered, taking a step back. “Get back here!” You laughed, gripping him by the collar and drawing him back in for another kiss. 

[wisteria-lodge]

snake primary + snake secondary (bird model)

Hello, I hope you’re doing well! I’m having a lot of confusion over my secondary, so a second opinion to help me untangle things would be lovely.

I’m pretty confident I’m a Snake with a Badger model that determines what I do when my people aren’t involved. Essentially, people are always important, but my people are most important to me. When push comes to shove I will protect them first (or feel worse about myself if I fail to).

So far, so good.

I think my secondary is at least a little burnt, in part because I’ve always struggled with interacting with people and don’t tend to think of myself as someone who’s capable of making an impact in people’s lives when it matters. I can remember several situations where I didn’t reach out to someone who needed my help, especially one of mine, because I was convinced that person would never want help from me. 

That’s proper burnt secondary talk. You knew what you wanted to do, you knew what would feel good to do, but you DIDN’T do it because you didn’t think it would work.

I know better than to do that now, and I’m trying to get better at believing in my own abilities (and the fact that other people can want me around). I’m hoping it’ll help to get a better idea of what those abilities even are.

You’re unBurning. Good.

I’ve thought ever since I first discovered this sorting system that I must be an improvisational secondary. I’ve never thought of myself as a fan of plans and prepwork - I get stressed out that I’ll forget important things and be left stranded. I remember back in high school when I was getting used to using public transport, my mum went with me to do a trial run of a route I needed to travel in advance. I was stressed enough about the event I was travelling to as it was, and the trail run made it so much worse, because there was so much to remember, what if I forgot something? What eventually made me feel more comfortable about it was trusting myself to figure it out on the day.

What a gorgeous way to explain the difference between a Built (prepwork) secondary and an Improvisational secondary. Trial runs make me feel so much better and so much more comfortable. And I’m a built secondary (and I bet your mom is too.)

Nowadays, when I’m travelling somewhere I’m unfamiliar with I’d much rather just leave half an hour early to give myself some breathing room in case I mess up.

Perfect. Excellent improvisational secondary problem solving.

Following strict schedules just trips me up too - say I’m doing classwork for the afternoon, for example, I need the freedom to be able to say that actually I’m more in the mood for Subject B than Subject A. I like having space to improvise, and I feel really proud of myself when I pull off something on the fly!

Once for a final exam in high school, we had to write an essay for The Lord of the Flies using a set of quotes from the text we’d chosen and memorised beforehand. The essay question was only revealed in the exam, and it turned out to be asking us to write an essay about one specific character - except I didn’t have enough quotes for any one character, I’d deliberately made them very spread out. What I did instead was to argue for the symbol of the Lord of the Flies as a character, and make each paragraph about each different character’s relationship to ‘him’ and what that relationship revealed about the characters, so I could make use of my range of quotes. I’m sure my writing wouldn‘t hold up now, I’ve gotten better at writing since then, but I still think of it as one of the essays I’m proudest of.

I would have given you an A. That sounds brilliant.

So that all seems to point to an improvisational secondary, but - reading about Rapid-Fire Birds has made me question whether that’s actually what I’m doing instead, and I have no idea how to tell. What‘s the difference between an improvisational secondary using information they already have to help them improvise, and a Rapid-Fire Bird doing the same thing? To what extent can Birds dislike relying on lists and planning?

You’re an Improvisational secondary. A pretty loud improvisational secondary (and almost certainly a Snake because you value the ability to pivot quickly so highly.) Rapid-fire birds can *look* like Snakes from the outside, but it’s a totally different internal experience. A rapid-fire bird might be comfortable improvising their bus route - but only in an area that they already know super well. Rapid-fire birds look like Snakes… as long as they are operating within their area of expertise, are coming from a place of strength.

And where does looking for more information while you solve a problem, rather than beforehand, fit within the secondaries?

Feeling more comfortable and confident looking *around* you while solving a problem (versus bringing in a bag of tricks at the start) is an Improvisational secondary thing.

When I’m involved in a debate about something that relies on a piece of information - a definition of a word, a statistic, some sort of other fact - I’m known as the person who’ll pull out my phone and say ’oh! I’ll Google it!’.

This might be a Bird [model] thing, but I’m inclined to think it’s just a person thing.

(Sometimes people don’t seem to get why I do that - they’ll say it looks like I’m taking things too seriously when it’s just a silly discussion for fun? But it just makes sense to me, we need information and that information is easily in reach, why shouldn’t I go get it, silly conversation or not?)

Okay, scratch that, I actually think this is a generational thing. *Baby Boomers* get annoyed at me when I do this.

I’m the same way when I research for writing. I don‘t tend to go looking for specific resources when I don’t have a story on them planned, but I love digging into specific subjects and resources and systems to ground a story in, once I have a concept to work with and I know what could be useful. 

I love digging into complex systems in general, really (hello, sorting hat chats!). But it’s not like I do it because I think it’ll be useful later - unless I know it will be, because it’s relevant to a problem I’ve already been presented with. And I know just having nerdy interests does not a true Bird make.

I think you probably have a fun Bird model.

But if I’m not a Bird - or if it’s only a model - which improvisational secondary do I even have? I’ve always figured Lion seems more likely, because I’ve never related to the ‘silver-tongued’ skill of Snakes.

I wonder if you relate at all to the idea of single-player snake - constantly pivoting, using their environment, problem solving on the fly. I think of Scotty from Star Trek - someone I would never describe as silver-tongued, and who’s happy being solitary. But he still problem solves the way a Snake does.

I do tend to be pretty stubborn and dig my heels in when I’m challenged, in a quiet sort of way. But the difference between charging or swerving when you head for something has always seemed hard to grasp, for me. When you’ve got something to go for, you just… go, and some obstacles can be barged through and some you can’t, so you try and then go around.

I actually think that’s a very Snake way of putting things. A Lion would say that you *can* punch though everything, given enough will power and enough time. It’s what makes their energy so intoxicating, and where a lot of their power and trustworthiness comes from. They keep at something until they fail.

(oh and also ~ I have noticed that generally, Lion secondaries make no sense to Snake secondaries and vice versa.)

I do relate more to a Lion’s interacting with everyone mostly the same - with ‘varying degrees of awkwardness’, as I think another asker phrased it - rather than creating masks for everyone on the fly. But I’m not sure anymore if that’s powerful for me or if it’s just… all I can do. This goes back to being burnt socially, I think - I feel like I‘m working with nothing at all when I talk to people.

Whatever secondary I’ve got, I don’t think I’m capable of using its ‘multiplayer’ skills very well. Or at least, I haven’t learnt to yet, and I feel like I‘ve gotten worse. Although, more than a year of not being able to talk to most people in person hasn’t helped.

Yeah, you and me both. You’re a little burned about this, which makes sorting hard. You might just be a Snake who… isn’t very social.

And as for Lions valuing authenticity… I do and I don’t? I’m not sure if that’s just because I’m a private person and I don’t like exposing all of myself and my interests and opinions, it makes me feel vulnerable.

I know it sounds crazy, but if you were a Lion, that would make you feel strong.

But I won’t lie about myself if someone asks about something I’m not willing to share, I’ll usually find something that’s still true and answers their question but’s less personal. To what extend do Lions do that? 

Generally, “I don’t owe strangers the real me” is just… not something Lions secondaries think. Sometimes they lower their intensity. But they are unusual because they feel best and strongest when they put themselves out there.

But I also think that any ‘mask’ you create is still, to a great extent, a part of you and a reflection of who you are. People talk about it like you have a ‘core’ that is completely you and then a performance you make on top is automatically ‘fake’. That doesn’t make sense to me.

That’s because you’re a Snake. If you were a Lion, you would relate more to this idea of an ideal presentational “core.”

Performances can be helpful to express yourself, in a sense. And everything you make is self-portrait.

That is an incredibly Snake thing to say. Also, Snakes have a tendency to conceptualize their masks as “art.”

In any case - I hope this wasn‘t too long. Thank you for helping me sort through all of this!

You are very welcome. I thought this one was really interesting.