#NOTHING Bad i just . i never really write or read fic for anything casually. like i have to be rlly ill about it before i dive in fic

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[breaddo]

i cant believe i have dr who in my fucking drafts now how did i get here 😭

[tenjikufag]

Had a worm in my brain,

From all your favorites/the men you write about, least to most likely, would cheat on you/the reader?

More so curious lol, not too big on cheater fics but an question itch was there

Trick question- none of them. Because we are so perfect we are the best boyfriends these characters will ever get and we are their world

BUT!

I’ll indulge that worm of yours with little hcs. (From least to most likely). These are from a select few characters I’ve written for- as my personal favourite charas are a bit too ambiguous for this question. KINDA LONG. Read under the cut.

Starting off STRONG is

Laios Touden.

He would never cheat, never crosses his mind, hell he barely entertains or perceives new friendships/dynamics. The fact you’d managed to reel this man in with how distracted and scatter brained he is, is a testament to the strong bond the two of you have. On a good day, he’s still off somewhere in the clouds of his mind that are full of the many ideas and quarries he has about everything- on a bad day, where he cannot bare to give even a single thought to even his current fixations of research- you’re there. Underneath everything that he is, you are the net that catches him from falling too far. Laios would never, ever, hurt you in such a way. Loyal to a fault if you had not reciprocated the feeling.

Jiyan

He’s loyal, respectful, humble, and protective. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’d be anything but faithful to you, his one and only. Aside from the obvious of him not having time to fool around with someone other than you, it’s simply mentally tasking to think of anyone but you. You’re the only thing keeping him grounded, with the hellish occupation he’s found himself in you’re the constant in his routine and always been the silver lining of everything. If he can’t find the will to get up, his body crying for rest and maybe even begging him to give up to let the world crumble at his feet; you are the reason he gets up to fight another day. The reason he pushes himself on those days where everything is simply too much. If he can protect you, it’s worth more than seeing the sun rise another day. You’re his everything, and dedicated is what he will be till the end of his days, he only wishes that it will be by your side.

Bokuto

Come on! Do you really think he’d do that? Man has a heart of gold, determination behind the gold in his eyes and nothing but zest of life exuding from his every action. Really, the only thing he may be emotionally cheating on you with is volleyball. But even then, you’re the mistress to his first love. Anyways, once he’s dedicated, it’s for the long haul. He’s chosen you as a life partner off the bat, this dating is not casual by any means. Dating for the fun of it is not his prerogative, he dates for the end goal of having someone to spend his eventual retirement with! Marriage would seem like an end goal but he’s a big picture kinda guy, even if he is very much live in the moment everything he does has a purpose in his mind. You are a conscious choice, not just a fleeting decision that he’s going to let go of once things get tough. He’s working hard at this, any doubts you have for him better go out the window or get washed in the laundry along with the rest of the dirt. Bokuto would never. You’re his and you’re stuck with him. There’s no other option for him! You’re the gold!

Now, onto the more likely or could possibly.

Izana Kurokawa

Listen, I love the man. But, you don’t end up running with the largest underground crime rings having the most sound mind. Sure, he loves you and such but I do think that a fleeting moment of pure desire could nudge him into it. And I say nudge because he wouldn’t need a push, he doesn’t expect good things in this life so why let you break things off and hurt him first when he could hurt you first? Sound planning in his head, even if he knows you’d never do what he’s doing. It’ll hurt, he won’t leave you to find out either. He’s straightforward despite being slick of the tongue, it’s a passive confession. If he didn’t do it, he will still inform you of what he could’ve done. Whether it be that he feels like he owes it to you to know, or if he simply wants a reaction from you, it’s undecided and really, he wouldn’t know himself. It’s ambiguous. You could be raising every star in the sky for him but if there ever comes a deal or situation where his morals and loyalty to you is put to the test.. he can’t promise you would give him a passing grade.

Gojo Satoru

Walk with me here, he’s a loser. Canonically does not get anything, no one would dare be in his vicinity without reason and he really does not come off as nearly desirable to the general public as many would believe. So imagine with that in mind, the moment he gets attention from someone without the need to know him intimately/emotionally like you do, he could falter. He’s a man of always assuming the grass is greener, that there’s always something better, and to be quite Frank, even if he does have a way with words he isn’t that socially equip to decipher that these said events are fleeting moments. You’ll be there for him when he gets home, you know him in a way he doesn’t know fulfills needs he hasn’t ever gone without to realize they are needs so when propositioned I can’t imagine that he wouldn’t act on it. Im possibly biased because I just wrote a fic of him cheating (and I really don’t like him) but he’s incredibly inept. Conniving yes, smart yes, but is he perceptive to his own emotions and what he’s actually giving up and sacrificing? Im not too convinced.

Denji

(tw for internalized homophobia etc)

Yeah yeah I can imagine the groans and sighs from here, give it up. He’s always liked girls, him liking you feels like a one off even if he’s rubbing one’s out on the regular to the filth he reads about guys and porno mags of gay dudes. If a girl ever came around and he happened to actually feel some form of interest in her I can’t imagine him not giving it a chance. It’s what you’re meant to do right? Being with a chick probably feels way better in his mind, you’re a one off relationship and he’s sure he’s gonna have more after you because everyone has more than one relationship right? Maybe he’ll “get it right” once he’s with a girl, even if he finds out it’s not all it’s cracked up to be- maybe he doesn’t even like it. He’s a young adult, a naive one at that. Being privy to almost anything but romantic/sexual relationships or even his own attractions- his own need to be accepted and live a normal life tugs at him to do it. Being gay isn’t normal in his mind, to society it’s odd and he is already weird enough on his own- being with a girl would possibly make him feel more… normal. It’s complex, but I do think he may do it just for the fact that it seems like the right thing to do.

-THATS ALLLL, I tried to do a couple series but if you had any specific character in mind that isn’t here I’d happily give you my thoughts. :) again, cheating fics and prompts aren’t my strong suit so this could be totally not what your worm wanted to hear. Anyways, thank you for reading my rambles.

[juyeonszn]

REFLECTIONS

PAIRING jacob bae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.07k

GENRES smut lol

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, fawn writing about jacob bae yet again but i swear this time was necessary!!!, porn without plot but also if u squint there’s a little bit of plot, roommates/best friends with mutual pining, i mixed so many tropes in here tbh, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (pls be safe), mirror sex, soft? dom!jacob, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY the two times jacob bae derails your saturday night plans.

MORE FAWNTOBER DAY 2 IS A GOOOOO 😈 i’m actually doing pretty well timing wise and as far as im concerned, i’ll actually pull this thing off 😭 anyways.. enjoy!! pls remember to reblog if u liked what u read! and stay tuned for the rest of the fics coming out this month <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble

If it were up to you, you would just stay home for the evening. You’d kick your feet up into the ottoman and put on a random movie, latched onto Jacob’s side like a little leech. You were lucky your roommate was just as much of a cuddler as you were. It’d be kind of awkward if he wasn’t.

Unfortunately, your Saturday night plans would have to be postponed.

“It’s gonna be fun, N/N, I promise,” he tries to convince you, hands clasped together. “Sangyeon even said he’d pay your tab.”

“But I’m tired, Cobie,” you pout, knowing full well that your puppy dog eyes would always be his weakness, even if he’d never admit it to himself. “I don’t wanna go out tonight.”

He must’ve really been looking forward to going out and meeting up with the guys if not even your guilt-tripping face worked on him. He goes off on a tangent about how you always stay in, and despite loving that to an extent, sometimes he wants to enjoy a night out. You were still confused as to why he didn’t just go by himself. Why did he have to bring you along with him?

It’s not like you were dating or anything. You were just roommates. Really close roommates. Roommates who cuddled every other night. Roommates who often found themselves sleeping in the other’s bed rather than their own. Roommates who were so undeniably attracted to each other but masked it by pretending they weren’t.

Couldn’t you have been sucked into a different trope?

“I just think you’re not giving the idea enough credit,” he raises his hands in surrender. “Besides, wouldn’t you feel left out? Wouldn’t you get major FOMO?”

You sigh. He had a point. Even if you didn’t really want to go clubbing, knowing all of your friends were there without you would make you sad. Imposter syndrome came way too easily for you. “Fine, I guess I’ll go.”

Jacob fist bumps the air, dragging you from the couch to your bedroom so you could start getting ready. He knows you take a while and the arranged meet up time was two hours from the current time. You move as quickly as you can, because even if you were only interested half heartedly, you didn’t want to be late. Especially because Jacob had a knack for constantly being punctual.

You kiss your teeth as you stare at your closet after you’ve finished showering and doing your hair and makeup. You felt like there was nothing good enough to wear. This wasn’t just a bar that you usually frequented, so you couldn’t dress casually. But it also wasn’t so fancy that you had to go over the top either. And for some reason, none of your clothes could fall into the perfect in-between category.

There was one dress.

You hadn’t worn it in a while, mostly because you never found the occasion to and it brought bad memories. It was a confidence booster, that was for sure. A tight black dress that stopped just below your ass and showed the perfect amount of cleavage. The moment you put it on, it’s like you’re a new person.

Staring back at you is someone you haven’t seen in a couple years, someone you shoved into the recesses of your subconscious. She used to party every night until she was black out drunk, making out and sleeping with random strangers until she was satisfied. She was stuck in a loop until she became friends with Jacob Bae, eventually moving in to get away from that lifestyle.

You never tell him how grateful you are. Part of you wishes to keep your past buried, hidden from the light of day so you never have to face your mistakes again. But at the same time, you could never tell him thank you enough. For saving you in a way, for helping you close that chapter of your life.

There’s a knock at your door, and you call out a “Come in” before your brain catches up with you. You make eye contact with Jacob in the mirror, watching his expression shift slightly. It wouldn’t have been noticeable if you were anyone else, but you knew him almost as well as you knew yourself. Maybe better.

He walks up behind you, brushing your hair behind your shoulder with a featherlight touch. “I haven’t seen this one on you in a long time.”

He’s so close to you, it’s kind of driving you crazy. You bite the inside of your lip, trying to keep your voice steady. “Should I wear it?”

His fingers start at your waist, trailing down to the hem of your dress. His knuckles skim across the bare skin of your exposed thigh, provoking your body to shudder. “Hmm, I’m not too sure,” Jacob rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. “Seeing you in this is making me rethink going out tonight. Kinda wanna keep you here, all to myself, like that night at Hyunjae’s party.”

Okay, so perhaps you might’ve skipped a tiny detail in the retelling of your first encounter with Jacob Bae.

The reason you two became friends was because he actually happened to be one of those random strangers you slept with. It was a stroke of luck that you kept in contact with him after that night, considering he was supposed to be nothing more than a nameless face. But he was cute and he was funny, so when he asked to hang out a few days later you couldn’t help but cave in.

“Jacob…” You breathe, chest rising and falling rapidly. “D-Don’t you wanna see the boys?”

His lips press to the juncture between your neck and collarbone, a soft kiss that already packs your head with cotton. He hums into your skin, hands bunching up your dress around your hips. Someone was impatient. “Not important. We can reschedule.”

You didn’t want to reschedule. You wanted to get out of this apartment, fully clothed, with an excuse to ignore the hammering of your heart in your rib cage and the fluttering down there. If you stayed here any longer, Jacob would successfully charm his way into your pants. (Dress?) And you didn’t want to think about the consequences that may come with.

But it’s not like he gives you much of a choice, invading your headspace with every nip and suck of your jugular and jaw. His slender fingers run a line down the front of your panties, a small groan leaving the back of his throat when he feels how wet you are for him. With heavy eyelids, you watch the entire thing in the mirror, lips parting with a gasp at the sight.

“Fuck, baby,” he curses in your ear, pulling you backward so the two of you are sitting on the edge of your bed, still facing your mirror. “You want me just as bad don’t you?”

You whine, squirming as he dips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, collecting your slick and smearing it all over your lower lips. He helps you shimmy out of your panties and dress, leaving you completely nude for him. His fingers resume their previous activities, easily pumping the ring and middle digits in and out of your cunt. His free hand grips your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on his movements.

“Cobie,” you whimper, spreading your legs wider to give both of you a better view. “Feels so good…”

His thumb circles your clit, mouth beside your ear to whisper all the filthy things he wants to do to you. Your toes curl at the same time his fingers do, brushing that sweet spot in your pussy. A strangled moan escapes you as you hit your climax, walls tightening around his fingers and back arching into his chest.

“That was so hot. You did so well for me,” he praises, thumb rubbing lazy patterns into your clit to bring you back down. “I just need you to do that on my cock. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod, hands reaching behind yourself to free him from his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper in your haste. “Need you inside of me already.”

You hope Jacob doesn’t have high expectations for you since you came so quickly with just his fingers. You’re not sure if he’s anticipating you to last longer with his cock. From what you remember, he wasn’t the longest, but he was definitely the thickest, and that’s what scared you the most. You were afraid of how full he’d make you feel.

Once the clothes from his bottom half are removed, you risk a glance at his dick in the mirror, your pussy clenching around nothing. Despite not knowing if you’d be able to take him without turning into a blubbering mess, you really wanted to try. You wanted him to fill you up like a plug in a bathtub drain.

He takes his girth in one hand, sliding his dick through your folds languidly, lubricating himself with the wetness of your cunt. He groans in your ear again, squeezing your hip to steel himself. “You ready for me?”

Your head bobs up and down quickly, patience wearing thin. He chuckles before impaling you on his cock, both of you moaning from the feeling of one another. The stretch burns, but it’s fucking heavenly, your pussy feeling so stuffed you can barely think. (Not that your thoughts were coherent beforehand anyway.)

“You’re— oh god, Jacob— you’re s-so deep,” you mewl, hands supporting yourself on his thighs. “I feel so full.”

He keeps his grip on your waist, fucking up into you as slowly as he can as to not disrupt your adjustment to his cock. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, lips parted with a gasp every time he thrusts into your tight pussy. He shakes his head, urging you to stay upright.

“I need you to keep your eyes on the mirror, baby. Watch me fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” Jacob commands, voice as deep as his dick inside of you.

You comply, hooded eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when you take in the sight of him bouncing you on his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, lip splitting from the force in which you’re biting it. He looks so hot, focused on getting you both to that peak you desperately need to reach.

It’s such a stark contrast to the sweet Jacob Bae you’re used to, this one pounding into you without mercy, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. That first time you had sex, years ago, was pretty vanilla thanks to you both having a little too much to drink that night. You don’t even think you remembered most of it. Had you known he was such a freak, maybe you wouldn’t have pretended your attraction to him was nonexistent. Maybe this would’ve happened a lot sooner.

You don’t dwell on that regret much longer, Jacob yanking your attention back in by rubbing your clit with his middle finger. The amount of overstimulation fogs your vision, voluminous, pornographic level moans reverberating around the room. The words bubbling past your lips don’t make any sense, reduced to babbling until an encouragement is uttered into your ear.

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,”

A cry is ripped from your vocal cords, your body writhing above him and continuing even after he’s orgasmed inside of you, fucking his cum into your cunt as he calms you down. You whimper when he grasps your jaw once more, egging you on to stare at the mixture of your cum running down your legs.

You both look absolutely feral, skin sticky with sweat and chests heaving up and down as if you’d ran a marathon. Jacob makes no move to pull out, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck, back and shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut as a wave of exhaustion rushes over you.

“I think you’re pretty close to succeeding in your mission,” you say hoarsely. “I can hardly function right now.”

He laughs, such a melodic sound it almost doesn’t belong in your current setting. “Yeah? Do you wanna help me pass it?”

And in spite of being on the brink of passing out, who are you to deny such a promising offer?

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[prince-liest]

i know you didn't mean anything bad by it, but it really discouraged me to see you rb that anti-reader-insert post. i write and enjoy both reader-insert and shipfic (my 2016 baby-in-fandom roots were in shipfic, but i'm pretty active in the reader-insert community as well these days). i really look up to you as both a current med student would to a resident (i'm an m2) and a writer would to a more-experienced/established writer, so i guess seeing you agree with a post that disparages a part of the fanfic community that we both engage in made me feel upset.

i definitely understand where people come from when they complain about xreader fics flooding the tags. i've felt that exasperation and annoyance of scrolling through the tags both on ao3 and tumblr, searching for fanart or shipfics of my favorite characters, only to be inundated with reader-insert works that i'm not in the mood to read. so, i get it.

i guess my point is: i look up to you. i really enjoy your writing. and because of my parasocial connection to you (i.e., enjoyment of your fandom takes and writing), it hurt my feelings that you seem to hold a pretty negative opinion about a side of the fandom writing community that i happen to pour a lot of myself into.

please don't feel pressured to respond to this at all-- residency is hard enough without some random anon on the internet nagging at you about some random reblog that is not nearly as important as patient care or saving lives. i don't even really know what the purpose of telling you this was; i'm not trying to change your opinion about reader-insert or anything like that. i think i just wanted to let you know how i felt seeing your reblog, with no expectations that you do anything with that information /gen. but yeah. i hope you're able to get some rest and take some time for yourself soon, and i look forward to continuing to your fics in the future.

Hey, there anon! First of all, it may make you feel better to know that I actually have absolutely nothing against x reader fics at a baseline. It's not my thing, I don't read it, but I don't have enough of an opinion on it to dislike it. I'm a big proponent of "write what you want" and while I've never written x reader content, I've roleplayed plenty of canon x OC ships back in the day, and write a lot of stuff that needs the dead dove tag. This post, to my understanding and in my intent, was meant to express humorous frustration with the ongoing issue specifically of a lot of x reader fics (particularly in the last several months, I suspect either because of Tiktok or due to Twitter's downward spiral) being tagged with irrelevant tags. I've actually had to ask on multiple posts something like "Why is this tagged with [canon ship]?"

Most people have kindly removed the tag and explained that they thought it was good exposure and didn't realize that wasn't how things work on Tumblr, which is great, but it's still frustrating that it's hard to scroll through a lot of tags without seeing lengthy and explicit x reader fics that are either tagged with unrelated ships/characters/fandoms, or undertagged with blockable x reader tags.

Even if I did dislike x reader, though, I just want to emphasize to you: I really appreciate that you look up to me and I'm really happy that I'm able to provide some encouragement to you in the form of someone with a similar creative hobby on the same career path, but also, my opinions on matters of personal taste really don't matter. I am, at the end of the day, A Random Person On The Internet Who Has A Blog, and I encourage you to look at opinions of mine that grate on you and think: "Eh. Just another random person I don't happen to agree with. Whatever, I guess." and move on, because in the long run this will be more fair to both yourself and me. There are indeed actually popular but harmless parts of fandom that I'm growing to dislike a little bit, and it feels strange to be unable to casually refer to or joke about that without being worried that it will hurt someone's feelings that I don't personally like the same thing they do. This is actually some of why I'm on Tumblr and not Twitter - the parasocial issues tend to be stronger on there! I confess that I don't really know exactly what to do about this problem yet, but I'm going to endeavor to not censor myself (as long as I'm not being a dick, ofc) while also encouraging people to not put me up on too much of a pedestal.

At any rate, I'll clarify in the tags of the post what I meant by my reblog, and I hope this at least offered some reassurance to you!

[deerislable]

hello! it's me again. your fic with remus is absolutely magical. i have another request 💫

what about muggleborn reader and one of the marauders studying together in a library and some spells are hard for reader to cast, so they get sad and start to think something like "maybe people are right. maybe muggleborns are really not made for magic" and the boy tries to cheer them up?? ( i wanted to request it with remus again, because i absolutely adore him, but you can choose yourself who it's going to be xD )

Hi Love! Thankyou! and thankyou for the request again <3

Remus is also my favourite so i just had to write about him! plus hes such a sweetheart how could i not! :)

Warnings: None? Maybe self deprecating words/thoughts?

A sound of annoyance slipped past your lips as the wave of your wand and mutter of a spell left you devoid of a result. You had been waving your wand and trying to cast the Orchideous spell for the past hour or so, it being a part of your assignment for tomorrow; to learn and perfect a random spell and what was more random than being able to conjure a bouquet of flowers? You thought it would be easy, but clearly it was turning out to be deceptively difficult. While you struggled not so silently in the almost vacant library, Remus was sitting at a desk casually reading. Though he never once complained about your constant unsuccessful attempts of the spell, you swore you saw his eyes flick to you more than once, but Remus was too nice to actually interfere and tell you how it's done. You knew that he knew how to do the spell but you were too stubborn to ask for help and Remus knew this, plus, he wanted you to figure it out for yourself.

“Maybe say it with more.. Meaning” Remus spoke up for the first time in a while and you immediately turned and shot him an evil glare, he quickly put his attention back to his book, not wanting to get on your bad side when you were so clearly frustrated “don't tell me how to do it, Remus.. Ill figure it out” you seethed with obstinate determination, having no thoughts of surrendering to the difficulty. Even if it was tough.

You went on like this for twenty more minutes, or maybe longer, moving between sitting and standing to see if comfortability played a factor in being able to summon the flowers. As you grew more and more irritated with the spell, the more distressed and irked you got, and that didn't help with executing the spell, as it seemed as though the magic wasn’t cooperating with your annoyed mood. You groaned again, running a hand through your hair angrily and with the silence that followed you were able to hear Remus shut his book; you ignored him. “If it helps, i know James definitely hasn’t even tried to find a spell to do yet” Remus tried to lift the dull atmosphere, leaning against the bookshelf, but you still didn’t look at him “No. It doesnt help. Because even if he attempted to do one he’d probably get it first try” an exasperated sigh huffed past your lips and you swallowed thickly. “Love-” Remus started, though you didn’t let him finish.

“Maybe- maybe it's because I'm a muggleborn- maybe muggleborns are not proper witches and wizards” you scowled, tossing your wand somewhere else, not wanting to look at the thing, nor Remus for that matter, not when you felt so vulnerable. “Hey, hey” Remus started, quickly coming over and grabbing your elbow, turning you towards him “don't say that. Your magic has nothing to do with being a muggleborn- if anything, it means you’re more powerful.. Since you didn’t need your parents to have magic for you to have it..” you looked up at him, eyes slightly teary, the situation seemed to be overwhelming you and now you were at your breaking point. Even if Remus annoyed you with how much of a genius he was, you were glad he stayed with you “Your magic is in here” Remus brought his hand to your chest, against your heart and you dipped your gaze shyly “but-” you started and Remus shook his head, redirecting your gaze by tilting your chin up “No buts, dove.. Spells are hard.. And it doesn't make you any less of a witch if you struggle with one of them..” 

You couldn’t help but smile at him a little, even as a stray tear ran down your cheek, Remus was quick to catch it with his thumb, wiping it away and cupping your face “C’mon, i’ll help you, yeah? How does that sound?” he smiled back at you and you nodded, ignoring any thoughts from before about needing to do the spell on your own,  “Good” he mumbled, going over to grab your wand that you threw and handing it back to you, taking it reluctantly.

“Now- wave your wand like this” Remus demonstrated with his own and you copied, “Atta girl, you already have the hang of it” he praised and your cheeks warmed from such a simple phrase. 

[dairy-farmer]

Sorry if you've already touched on this, but what are your thoughts about the discourse/discussion about Tim in the comics and Tim from the lens of A03/fan fiction?

For example, I hear a lot from old comic fans about how the series with Tim dating Bernard was doomed to fail bc 'the writer wrote him like her fanfiction version of Tim and not the real character'. There was a lot of discourse with canonical announcing Tim as queer, and that's kinda all these older comic book fans seem to keep coming back to. Idk, there just kinda seems to be an underlying feeling of misogyny towards the female writers and anti lgtbq vibes that it's hard to hear like a real arguement against the series.

I guess as a long time a03/Fandom person, I'm so used to just creating another little reality for the things I disagree or want to explore with a character, that it's strange to see people so upset that Canon doesn't flow the way the want.

it's no problem!! and i haven't really touched on the newer comics all that much mostly because i also don't particularly like them, not for any specific reason-they're decent enough but i don't really think they're 'tim'-but i do know what you're talking about. on twitter and tumblr i see a lot of different takes regarding tim and how he's written in this newer robin series.

for starters: i get what you're talking about where criticism of the comics might partly because of anti-lgbt attitude. especially since tim getting confirmed to be bisexual made A LOT of people mad (including ppl who arent homophobic but are mad that it wasn't THEIR favorite robin who got confirmed queer like dick, jason, or damian etc). comic bros and even casual comic fans who had never even heard of tim or even gave a shit about him were now furious. and while there might be ppl with genuine critiques- some of hatred of the way tim is written in the newer comics you really have to take it with a grain of salt because it very well could be comic bros hating because "robin isn't gay".

same with the writer, meghan fitzmartin. in general, women DO have an uphill battle when it comes to working in comics because it is very male dominated. and it's no secret that a lot of comic fans are opposed to women writing in comics. so misogyny, and even jealousy also plays a role with how much criticism is ACTUALLY warranted. but that doesn't mean a woman in comics isn't allowed to be criticized if they do a bad job or do a botched execution when their job is supposed to be making good, enjoyable, stories that do justice to the characters. i do think meghan may have some decentish ideas but whether she genuinely has the writing chops to deliver on those big ideas is well...iffy. but then again i genuinely don't keep tabs on comic writers or they're projects so maybe that will change.

when it comes to the critique of tim being written like a "fanfiction" version and not a "real" version of him i do see what they mean.

when I think of fanon tim I think of all the mischaracterizations that have been popularized. a coffee obsessed gremlin that doesn't sleep who is deeply insecure and agonizes over his place in the family, thinking he doesn't belong. people LIKE that tim is portrayed like that (in fanfiction) otherwise that characterization wouldn't be so pervasive in fics (there's also the possibility that a lot of ff writers DON'T know any better because many don't read comics but they do read fics and so they base their portrayals solely off what they read in fics resulting in this racoon eyed, coffee loving character who they believe to be an actual portrayal when it's really just someone's idea/exaggerated interpretation of tim).

i really don't see a lot of that in meghan's writing, the issues with tim's writing with her are different. if anything WFA is the one that really have the 'written as a ff character' vibe. but that series is also SUPPOSED to be deeply unserious as a fun slice of life universe where nothing goes wrong for anyone ever as a soothing balm for the oftentimes depressing stories in batman comics.

but in meghan's writing I also don't see a lot of what i consider to be core tim values. is she the best writer for tim? no i don't really think so. but there is a certain degree of understanding for his character. I see the comics and I can recognize that it's tim. so it's not offensively OC.

a lot of complaints seem to stem from his relationship with bernard being too much of a focus. people say how tim does too much thinking about him when...he was a lot worse in the 90s with steph. I remember getting so irritated when entire comics of robin would be narrated by steph or about her, i'd be like 'I want to read about ROBIN and his adventures, not steph, why is she even relevant?'. but tim's relationships to other people are a core part about him so you just have to take it.

the part that i think is justified in critique is in talking about whether her writing of bernard dowd is good. that is a much easier thing to answer. and its that its not good writing. in fact it's a pretty bad, inaccurate portrayal of him given how he was written when we first knew him. he's sort of been...sanded down? kind of remade into some new, almost unrecognizable character that fits into what she believes would be a nice, wholesome, gay partner for tim. which is an issue for me because we have seen and know what tim is like in relationships. tim had tension with, disagreed with, got annoyed with, fought and argued with his other partners like stephanie and ariana. but he also enjoyed himself and was happy with them. there was a balance there of good and bad because tim's unique situation of being robin made it so there had to be good and bad. with bernard it's all very passive and easy. they don't argue, they don't really fight, or have any struggles in their relationship when trying determine compatibility. avoiding tension in the relationship when tim has a track record of it makes it almost seem like she's afraid of the risk of portraying a gay relationship in anything less than a golden light. which is not good writing. BUT it is also very NEW. so maybe that will change (but there's a similar problem with jon kent and his bf so idk)? i personally believe kon would've been a more ideal partner with their shared history, chemistry, tension, the fact that fans have wanted it for decades, and the fact that it would've been such a good addition to the arc of self acceptance for kon's character. and many of the issues that tim being with bernard wouldn't be a thing because tim and kon famously don't see eye to eye 100 percent of the time and so their relationship would struggle and grow as they go from friends to romantic partners.

ultimately in my opinion to write a truly good tim drake you need to be able to accurately portray the thing that made him such a great robin: his heart of gold. tim cares about doing the right thing SO much. he cares about helping people. he's not some cold, unfeeling calculated computer who uses people as pawns and abandons his morals at the slightest inconvenience or seduction to the 'dark side'. and he's not some coffee drinking hacker man that is 20 steps ahead and smug about it.

tim worries about people, he's upset at injustice, feels guilt at not being able to save people, is judgy, sometimes a brat, sarcastic, gets angry at people for throwing their lives away, gets very invested in things that catch his interest, is too curious for his own good, nosy. he lies through his teeth and then bats his eyes in sweet as pie innocence. will think VERY rude thoughts about people but will bite his tongue because he's a nice boy👼 but sometimes things slip out. he is somehow simultaneously able to be the 🥺 and 😈 emoji at the same time. his odds of making bad decisions increase by 100 fold if in the company of other stupid teenagers.

now i write tim as a very exaggerated version of that core self. that's what a lot of ff authors do. they choose a handful of traits they like best about him and spin entire fics about it. i don't think writing tim as a fanfiction version of himself is a bad thing because some fanfic is genuinely better than the source material and that comes from being very good at understanding the character. the tim of today can't be written the same way he was in his golden age, the 90s, because a lot of his struggles and hurdles that he dealt with in those comics are over. they're done. tim can't be 30 years old and still wondering if he's doing a shit job as robin. tim IS a good robin and he should be able to acknowledge that (funnily enough one of his clear acknowledgements of that is often wiped away by fics- that being the titans tower scene where jason asks if tim thinks he's the better robin and tim, without hesitation, says yes) a lot of older fans are clinging to problems that tim has already resolved. he's not thirteen and insecure about his abilities. he's not on his first relationship with someone (but he is in his first relationship with a boy). he's not still learning how to navigate his relationship with batman and the rest of the family or struggling to come to terms with his civilian and caped life. do some of those things still trouble him on occasion? yes but they're not the main focus anymore.

tim has to have new problems, new challenges, new growth.

i had some hope for new tim comics.

would i like to have seen more tim centric material or at least good stories. and often times in the new tim comics tim was exactly the same at the end of the issue as he was at the beginning. tim struggling with his identity is something that made an appearance in 90s comics a lot but I think for the newer ones that it would've been better received/more interesting if it were...written better?

idk. i don't know a single comic fan that loved every detail of their fav's comics. was it the best run? no. but it was okay enough i guess. it was lukewarm, not standing ovation worthy but also nobody should be throwing tomatoes at the performers either, it just earned a polite clap of acknowledgement which i don't think is a very bad thing but still i hope we get something better!

[it-happened-one-fic]

Two Step - Aren't Exactly Prince Charming - Strictly NRC Dancing

Author Notes: I watched so many how-to-videos for the two step dance, but this fic doesn't actually have any one video or performance that it was inspired by. That said, I have learned the two step is actually quite the charming little dance and if you've never heard of it I do recommend that you look it up. I listened to "Why Don't We Just Dance" by Josh Turner while writing this fic. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List.

Type: Dance AU/ female reader/ fluff/ flirtation/can be platonic or romantic

Word Count: 1370

I stepped out of the dressing room, glancing over towards Crewel, who, after giving me a once over, gave me an approving head bob. 

I didn’t receive any compliments on how I wore the dress he designed, though. Instead, I was met with his own personal prayer regarding Ace’s development as a dancer, “Let’s pray he actually passes this one.”

I smiled slightly at his long, suffering sigh before reassuring him, “Oh, come on. It’s a two-step. Surely he won’t start jirating or dancing like he’s at a club this time.” 

My teacher rolled his eyes before looking down at his clipboard and shooing me off to the dance floor, where my less-than-pleased partner awaited. I didn’t miss the final jab the instructor tossed in Ace’s direction, too quietly for the redhead to hear but loud enough to make me smile, “At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised by anything.”

Rather than clue my friend in to our instructor’s commentary, I merely greeted Ace with that poorly concealed amusement. But, in my own defense, it was hard not to laugh at him with his crossed arms and petulant frown that told me exactly what he thought of his hat and boots before he ever opened his mouth, “Cowboy get-up…. Was this really necessary?”

I grinned at him, snickering slightly at his petulant frown before lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug, “I thought you could make anything look good?”

His eyes met mine, a faint glimmer appearing in them at my teasing, “Sure I can, but the hat and boots are a bit much.”

I laughed aloud at his half-joking, half-serious, sullen words that did nothing to hide the sparkle in his eyes. I reached up, tapping the brim of his hat playfully before responding, “Well, it does fit the vaguely country dance, doesn’t it?”

He let out a very fake laugh with an annoyed smile, “Mhm. Very. I’m beginning to think these dance classes are just so Crewel gets to play dress-up with the students.”

I snorted, casually slipping into our starting pose, my hand in his while the other rested lightly on his shoulder, “You’re just salty because you keep failing.”

He shot me a dirty look, but before he could retort, Riddle’s serious voice rose from the crowd, “Remember what we talked about Ace.”

The red-haired housewarden in the crowd was staring directly at the two of us, a pointed look on his face, and I watched as my partner lost his previous bluster, “That bad, huh?”

 Red eyes met mine, and Ace pulled a wavering, very nervous smile before attempting to shrug off Riddle’s pointed warning with Ace’s usual airiness, “Well, we are talking about the teapot tyrant.”

 I smiled reassuringly at the young man since I figured I knew exactly what the Heartslabyul housewarden had been talking about.

Riddle had probably threatened Ace with having to do some sort of unpleasant job or something should he fail this dance class like he had the past ones.

But, to be fair, I was beginning to think almost everyone’s patience with the boy was waning. He had failed at least three classes already, after all.

My personal feelings about  Ace’s success, or lack thereof, were a little more muddled. In a small way, I almost felt bad for the boy. But, in another way, I was equally desperate for him to finally pass a class since I’d been the victim of his dancing several times myself.

It wasn’t that Ace wasn’t exactly a bad dancer, per se. In fact, his sense of rhythm was wonderful, and he let loose enough to actually get with the general feelings of dancing. But Ace enjoyed himself a bit too much and often lost track of himself.  He would stop following the rules of the dance and instead go to doing whatever he liked in a sort of freestyle performance.

Despite all of that though, I found myself attempting to reassure my friend, “Hey, don’t worry. The two-step’s easy. Quick, quick, slow, slow.” 

He snorted as I listed the incredibly simple tempo, but, despite himself, I could see him visibly relax at my words.

I grinned slightly, giving his hand a slight squeeze and receiving a pointed glance, our eyes meeting briefly. It wasn’t long, though, before his gaze darted away from mine once more as a grin spread across his face, making me wonder exactly what he was thinking.

 I didn’t ponder what was going on in Ace’s head long though, since I could see Sam walking over to the radio. Giving  me a thumbs up just before he hit play. 

I leaned forward, offering one last shred of advice to my long-time companion, “Just remember to have fun with it. It’s just you and me dancing in Ramshackle. No one watching, and no grades.”

“Sure, if that were the case, I can guarantee we wouldn’t be dancing two-step, and I wouldn’t be in this get-up.” There was a mischievous glimmer to his eyes, but as the guitar set the pace and music flowed into the room, he began to steadily maneuver me backwards.

 Watching us now, I doubted anyone would believe that Ace’s usual mode of dancing was that of a stripper whose rent was due tomorrow. But then, a two-step was about as far from that as one could get. And he was concentrating—that much I could tell from the slight frown on his face.

When his eyes finally met mine, he made a face, no doubt restraining himself from doing anything too childish, lest it ruin his grade. 

Whatever threat Riddle had over him, it must be bad if Ace was holding himself back this much.

We pivoted across the floor, me twirling whenever Ace guided me to do so with a slight push of his hand on my upper back. 

The longer we danced, the more he relaxed until we had a slight sway to our upper bodies that paired well with the music. Looking at the slow grin starting to spread on his face, something told me Ace was steadily forgetting about both the exam and Riddle’s threat.

His gaze now held mine, his eyes sparkling as his grin managed to spread just a little more, “Hey, don’t go getting all dreamy-eyed on me.”

I snorted immediately at his teasing, letting him twist me so that my back was now to his chest and we were both headed the same direction, “As if, you aren’t exactly prince charming, Ace.”

He smoothly twisted me back around, amused as ever, when he responded, “From what I’ve seen, princes aren’t usually charming. I mean, look at Leona.”

I barely stifled a giggle but shook my head slightly at his antics. Somehow managing to keep from glancing towards the no doubt bored prince who was being forced to watch every performance along with the rest of the student body.

All too soon, we pivoted to a stop, and he twirled me out so that we were both facing our judges, namely the staff. 

We were both grinning, partially due to his sarcastic comments and partially due to our dance. Because despite the simplicity of the motions when compared to other dances, there was something enjoyable about the two-step. It made plenty of room for the spiteful remarks Ace so loved to make under his breath so that only I could hear them.

Even Crewel was grinning, likely because he realized he had at long last escaped attempting to teach Ace to dance in any more styles. Ace had finally passed, though admittedly not with full marks.

I turned to go and change into whatever new outfit Crewel had laid out for me to wear for the next dance, only to be stopped by Ace’s hand curling loosely around my wrist.

I looked back to see him grinning at me, eyes sparkling like rubies under the bright lights overhead, as he looked at me with a pride that came from his success, “We’ll have to dance again later. Just the two of us. At Ramshackle.”

Ever the teasing flirt, his grin turned slightly mischievous, and he winked as he let go of my wrist, “Though maybe not the two-step next time…..”

If you would like to read more:

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[thefoundationproject]

Re Read Wholly Unprofessional again.

First of all never getting over Bacara and Rex. I Love Love. It's so funny because Rex we expect to be So Much, but when Bacara RESPONDS!? Truly two idiots in love lol. Thinking about them all giggly smiley composing their love letters to eachother Tactical Insight Reports For The Benefit Of The GAR 🫡. Bly helping Rex because that's his baby brother and Bly is a romantic at heart. Feel like Aayla would agree.

Kot to Cody and Doom and Fox and all the others who have to witness it all though. Tbf Cody did it to himself soo.

Also Ow at Forwards Someone Hug Them 💔

Second of all LMAO Ponds is going through IT

Priority Response

Ponds: I don’t quite remember ASKING YOUR OPINION Commander Bacara.

and,

Priority Response

Neyo: The IMPORTANT question here is: where can I get myself a hot little Captain sidearm to impress with my kill count. I’m asking for me.

Priority Response

Ponds: Excuse me, what.

Vod'ika Defilers and Vod'ika Defiler Enablers Oh My!

The relazation for Ponds that Cody KNEW! 17 KNEW! NEYO KNEW!Traitors all! Ponds' Less Favorite Vode List getting crowded. At this point I see him going down the list of all the people who could've known putting a little :( Just for future refrence.... Casually asking some CC like hey weren't you on the same ARC training range....?

But VAUGHN MY BABY!!!

Lol at Neyos What? x 5. He fully short circuited. He Was Kidding Rex! It Was A JOKE REX! How dare you call him out?

Imagine Vaughn starts messaging him, sparkle, sunshine and all. And Everytime Neyo is trying! so! hard! to be Cool Suave Spy. And Everytime Vaughn gets him all spluttering blushing kicking feet.

And he's like "This time I'll catch him off guard HE won't know what to with HIMSELF". Writing The Perfect Message only for Vaughn to answer in .2 seconds with something that has Neyo screaming into his pillow. How does he do it?!

Vaughn sitting there watching the Neyo is writing... begin and stop endlessly. Grinning like a fool so excited to talk to him about anything and everything and nothing but Neyo is so careful and feeling emotion(s), so he needs timeee. So Vaughn waits with anticipation. Turns out they're talking about the newest change to some obscure tiny blaster part or something lol. But The Subtext Potential....

(Wasn't one of the like three canon things about Neyo that he and Bacara worked on some speeder tactics or something? Imagine Vaughn compliments those and gives feedback. Neyo is so impressed but oh no feelings catching!?!)

Sorry for The Wall but it's such a ride every time i read your fics again, it's like it's the first time! Always something new to appreciate. Thank you❤️

Hello!!! Thank you very kindly! Everyone expects Rex to be a shebs about things but no one expects it from Bacara. So no one suspects it coming and Bacara can just roll up and drop the shebsiest moment and stroll away. That first moment when one sees a message and realizes 'oh this isn't JUST am update' .... my heart, it's exploded. I squee for them. So very much.

Bly is not the brother that would hide a body for you. Bly would supervise the body hiding and tell you what you're doing wrong that wpuld get you caught, because the best way to learn is by doing it yourself. A+ brothering, in my opinion. He’s also naturally ride or die. Because Rex IS still his baby brother. Also 2.0 .... it's really funny watching "Cody is typing" and imaging how that annoyed eye twitch of his is going. Very entertaining.

At some point in the future, the very distant future, long after even the most paranoid have stopped anticipating it, Ponds will attack. And everyone will RUE THIS DAY. Including Wolffe who by necessity will just have to be caught in the splash damage. Ponds feels bad, really he does, just so dreadfully awful, but he couldn't risk the others being alerted. So some Wolffes had to be collateral damage and that was just a sacrifice Ponds was willing to make. As for getting Neyo, well Fox is already In Too Deep in the Edee prank war, it would be incredibly simple for Ponds to hide his plots behind Fox's misdeeds. Ponds knows how to play the excruciatingly long game but then he hits everyone all at once. He's sitting in his observation room surrounded by screens, cackling while Fox finally understands the true depth of Ponds' deviousness. Truly terrifying.

I imagine that at this point Rex at least somewhat knows Neyo. Well enough to say 'MY TIME HAS COME'. I'm entirely sure he's been plotting how to socialize/distract the in-law and all of a sudden the perfectest opportunity presented itself. And what is Torrent if not opportunistic? Vaughn is starlight and sunshine and whiskers on kittens and it's endlessly amusing to me to throw him at Neyo and say "catch". 🤣

Thank you so very much!!!!!

[purinsesukinny]

more than the sunshine in my eyes

(real this time, i promise 💞💞)

kyle and kenny strike up a casual relationship over the summer, and it’s all fun and games until kyle asks kenny to go steady with him

Pairings: k2

Word count: 548

Warnings for: none!!

[AO3 Link]

“Will you go out with me?” asks Kyle, one day in July, and the only thing Kenny can do is stare at him. 

He blames it on the heat, mostly. Summer means that the snow has melted and left the ground bare, so there’s nothing left to offset the way that afternoon sunlight sets Kyle’s auburn hair aglow. He really can’t take his eyes off of him. 

And the thing is that Kyle’s so earnest about it too. It’s the kind of thing that Kenny’s always found endearing about him, the way he puts his heart in his throat and believes every little thing he says with an intensity that burns. You could get hurt by doing that, get attacked at the jugular, but Kyle’s never been the type to be scared of the consequences. 

So when he says things like i dunno i thought you might like this (carnival lights highlighting the blush on his ears) or (in a whisper, so as to not wake the others around them) hey let’s do this again sometime or (sighing, people milling around them as they hug in the middle of the airport) fuck dude it’s so good to see you or, god forbid, something else like will you go out with me—  

well, shit. Kenny might just be inclined to believe him. 

“We—” Kenny’s tongue trips over the words. He gestures at their shared yogurt from the bougie froyo place downtown. “We’re already out?” 

Kyle ponders this. “Well— yeah. I guess. But I kinda meant like” his ears turn red, and Kenny bites down hard on the smile forming on his lips “going steady,” finishes Kyle, trailing off weakly. 

Kenny hums, eating another spoonful of froyo so that he doesn’t have to answer right away. “Like boyfriends?” he says, finally. 

“Yep.”

Kenny blinks, hums again. “Even though we’ll be long-distance?”

(The circumstances were hardly in their favor, after all. This was fun —he likes being with Kyle; he’s always liked being with Kyle— but the sweet, casual summer fling they’d been having could never withstand the weight of Kenny’s anything. Not his 7-years-old infatuation with the other boy, nor his 21-year immortality streak, nor the 1280-miles that lay between them for 9 months out of the year. It was simple maths — numbers never lied.)

(And besides, even love like his parents’ fell apart at the seams eventually. Right person, wrong lifetime. Kenny knows better than to fall in love in a place like this with a boy made from sunlight.)

(But)

“We talk all the time anyways, dude. And besides, I have this little voice in the back of my head that sounds a lot like you,” says Kyle, linking their hands together. “So it’s already kinda like you own a piece of my soul or something.” He leans in, green eyes blazing. “I don’t think distance will change anything.” And with that, what else is there left to do but trust him?

(Kenny’s always loved bad ideas, anyways.)

Kenny finally lets himself smile, sunflowers blooming in his chest. He holds on a bit tighter to Kyle’s hand in his. “Okay.”

Kyle breathes a little sigh, sits himself fully back down in his seat. “Okay.” 

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Cool. They finish off their yogurt, each still holding the other’s hand. 

———

a/n: again here’s the song for this fic. wait no, that’s a rickroll, here’s the real song. wait no, that’s another rickroll, here’s the real song AKDJSKSK

anyways i’ve been struggling to write this since i made the original post, but then the k2 fanzine was announced and i went a little feral 😌 i hope you guys enjoyed!! thanks for reading!!

[floralcrematorium]

1, 3, 16 with Arthur

Thanks for the ask!!

1. Do you relate to your favorite character?

Mmm I've got three of those so I will apply it to each of them

France: I'm a bit picky with food, but definitely not for the same reasons as Francis. I do value flavor over everything else, but if the Texture Is Bad (I have texture sensory issues I think??), I cannot eat it. I'm an artist (regrettably) and tend to be a perfectionist in regards to my craft. I can be a little obsessive towards literally anything, but I think that's the uhhhhh hyperfocus (I once played Minecraft for 27 hours straight, do not ask How it happened, I don't know). That's where the similarities end, though. I am ✧*̥˚ Ace and While Not Aro, I Do Not Know What Flirting Looks Like *̥˚✧

China: I've never written for Yao the way I have for Francis or Lukas so I don't have the best pin on Who He Is, but I hold a lot of admiration for him and he's the only one who's maintained their status as Favorite Character for me pre and post fandom hiatus. I wouldn't say I handle change the best, but I find ways to adapt to situations I'm thrown into. Being able to adapt and be flexible is how this man's been alive for 4,000 years, so we share that. Similarly as with Francis, we share cooking and art in common.

Norway: I refer to him as Lukas because unfortunately that's just. What's etched into my brain and it's what I'm attached to. Nor can seem a bit spacey due to how quiet he can be, and I'm spacey, but definitely not for the same reasons. When I write for Lukas, he's dramatic but in very subtle ways (sighing, inner thoughts), and it's been brought to my attention on more than one circumstance how much I sigh or that I'm just a Little Freak™. I mean this in the most affectionate way I possibly can, I want to throw him down the stairs.

3. Who are your favorite Hetalia writers?

At the current moment, I do not know!!! I feel like I haven't read enough to really pick favorites (I am really bad at starting new things and I have a laundry list of fics I've been meaning to start but. Haven't. INCLUDING YOURS!!!! I am looking at your A03 voraciously and waiting for the stars to align enough for me to have some darn focus.) I will say that I am absolutely obsessed with Take a Chance on Me by Hetart on A03. I gotta catch up on that. My favorite fic from pre-hiatus was Log of the End of the World on ff.net, but I haven't gone back to it since 2015 so I remember literally nothing other than I liked it at age 14 enough to still remember its name.

16. Assign Arthur a chillin outfit.

I know I said I'd draw, but in the most respectful way I am NOT drawing him specifically right now. His hair... oh I so very don't want to figure out how his hair works. Take this as an IOU specifically for you for me to draw Arthur One Day and accept this screenshot of a pinterest board I made specifically for this ask

I cannot see this man wearing anything other than sweaters, sweater vests, brown trousers specifically, and the loafers. Are those loafers? Beats me. Anyway. Man is forever banished to be color coded with green and brown for me. Realizing now I could've just opened the Sims 4 and screenshot how he looks in my game but alas, I am eepy

I think this man is the kind of person to hate loungewear/pajamas. He prefers to always be dressed because it helps him feel productive and look presentable. He's just like Francis in that he can't be casual, but in a crunchy old man sorta way.

He's wearing green plaid flannel pants to bed with any clean t-shirt he can find.

I would throw something punk together, but that's not my area of expertise in regards to alt fashion

Hetalia Asks

[scienceoftheidiot]

@qs63 keeps feeding me ideas, and thus very serious meta discussion ends up with me having to write a silly fic. Expect this to happen regularly.

Summary :

Roy's a liar and a manipulator, but we have canon examples of him showing he doesn't really like lying or when other people lie, and notably when they do so to themselves. What if.... That makes him horrendously bad at poker?

End is not what I expected but I can't really say I'm sorry.

You can read it under the cut here or over on AO3

The atmosphere in the office was tense.

Or maybe it was just him.

Roy shot a suspicious glance over his hand at the whole party, sat at the table with him.

The office was filled with Havoc's cigarette smoke, and lit brightly by the neons on the ceiling. The whole team sat around the central table, cards and multi coloured chips disorderly spread on the dark wooden surface.

Havoc looked back, his face blank, an arm casually thrown over the back of his chair in his usual laid back manner. His hand that was not holding his cards shot up to his mouth to take the cigarette he'd planted there, shook the cinders in the ashtray he kept near him, then put the cigarette back. He did everything without breaking eye contact, his face betraying nothing.

Breda was munching on bretzels he'd taken out of nowhere, and returned his stare with a raised eyebrow, shaking the piece of bread around.

"Want one, boss?"

Roy shook his head with a frown. Breda better clean off the crumbs he was throwing everywhere on the office meeting table when they'd be done.

Hawkeye and Falman, both at opposite ends, looked incredibly sereine, unfazed by anything. Falman was looking at his hand calmly. Hawkeye gave Roy his glance back with a solicitous "Sir?" and an incredibly deadpan face.

And Fuery, small Fuery, on his left, was sweating buckets, and kept pushing his glasses up his nose.

Roy felt a muscle spasm in his cheek, tugging at his lips.

Havoc let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Take your time, boss. Take all your time. After all, none of us have a girlfriend or family. We can stay here until the end of time and no one will ask about us. We can wait."

"Speak for yourself, Havoc."

"What, Breda, cause you got a beautiful creature waiting for you right now, in your bed, with big –"

"Havoc." Hawkeye tutted without even looking up from her cards.

"Big breasts ain't really my thing," Breda replied with a lot more seriousness than necessary. "Besides, right now, the only thing I want is for our dear Colonel to decide if he will follow or fold so we can finally get to showdown."

Roy, his eyes on his cards, right hand fingers drumming on the table, grumbled.

"Don't be so loud about wanting me, Breda."

"Shut up and play, Colonel. We're all waiting." Hawkeye's face was just about as blank as all of the others.

The only one displaying anything was Fuery, on his left, practically vibrating. He was the next in line to play.

A simple pair of jacks. That was all Roy got. He'd lost all the turns until now. Damn it, he was the boss! He was the youngest Alchemist to ever get the State license! He was smart! He was brave, reckless, even! He never went down, whatever hand he was dealt with! How come he was always defeated by Breda or Hawkeye, no matter what they had in hand?

Falman, too.

In fact, the only one who had, like him, not won any round was Fuery.

Roy shot him a side glance as the Master Sergeant took off his glasses to wipe off the condensation on them.

Roy ran the numbers in his head again. Falman had a pretty good straight at the precedent turn. That was 0,39% in odds, before the first draw. What were the odds, now? Havoc had folded, which meant his hand must have been awful - no figures, nothing. Falman, Breda and Hawkeye had bet. Fuery would probably fold, considering the –

"Come on, Boss, this isn't a fucking game of chess!" Havoc was making big gestures with his arms, ready to light another cigarette.

"Of course it's not, I'd have beaten you up all long ago!"

"Colonel," Hawkeye scolded him. "Stop being a child, and tell us if you follow or if you fold."

"Yeah, Colonel," Breda quipped while picking up a new bretzel. "Well all know you got a shitty hand. Either own it or not, but please free us."

Roy's head jerked up from his hand.

"What? How?"

"You're a terrible liar, sir. And terrible at seeing through us, too."

Havoc snickered at Breda's retort, Falman and Fuery hid their faces behind their cards, and even Hawkeye couldn't stop the corner of her mouth from twitching up for a split second.

Roy scowled, deeply offended.

"I am the best liar in this room. And you all know it."

Hawkeye leaned towards him.

"Of course, sir, in the right context. You're calculating. You can talk anyone out of their wits, seduce them and turn them around like no one else."

Roy frowned at the mocking glance Breda and Havoc exchanged.

"But poker doesn't ask of you to talk and manipulate people with speech. It asks for a pokerface," Hawkeye continued, giving him her best rendition of it.

"I don't think his hand is that bad," she concluded placidly as she turned to Breda, "I think he's got a couple of figures and he's calculating the probabilities for each one of us to have a better game."

Roy scrunched up his nose and opened his mouth, ready to reply. But nothing came out, and he closed his mouth again with a sour scowl. Looked at his hand. And sighed.

"Alright, alright."

He knocked on the table once. He would not fold. He had honour.

"Thank you, sir." Breda said with a flourish. "Fuery?"

Fuery, blinking rapidly, placed his hand down on the table.

"I – folding."

"I'm glad we opted out of the strip poker option," Havoc sneered, and it pulled a short laugh from poor Fuery.

"You were the only one who wanted it, Havoc." Hawkeye said in her usual dry tone.

"No one can be foolish enough to play strip poker against Lieutenant Hawkeye," Falman added, extremely serious.

"Now, now that you say it," Hawkeye frowned, side eyeing Roy, who felt a sudden wave of warmth climb up his nape, "Maybe this is what we should have done, so I could be kept up on how that scar's healing, sir."

Hawkeye. Good old Hawkeye, throwing her lines like a bucket of ice cold water onto his head, as usual.

"None of your business, Lieutenant."

"I'm your bodyguard, sir. If I want to do my job properly I have to assess your health. Be sure you won't start limping if we ever need to make for a quick cover."

"I do not –"

"Right, showdown," Breda interrupted, just as Roy's hand uncontrollably shot down to the top of his right thigh, where a bullet had grazed a week before.

"You got hurt, sir?" Fuery piped, oblivious of the dark look Roy threw at him for keeping Riza focused on him this way, and the glare Breda and Havoc shot him for yet again derailing from the game.

"Yeah, during the operation last week," Riza stated in a slightly too formal voice as she showed her hand. Three of a kind, queens. "He managed to hide it until I saw him limp around the day after," she added with a scowl, avoiding Roy's annoyed looks.

"It was just a scratch," Roy grumbled, his mood plummeting yet lower when Breda uncovered a flush in hearts.

Falman showed a pair of tens with a sheepish smile.

"I tried," he said, pushing his chips towards Breda.

Roy groaned and hid his face behind his right hand as he showed his cards.

He groaned yet lounder when Fuery quipped from over his shoulder : "Oh, I had a pair of kings !"

"That's it, I'm done," Roy pushed all his chips and cards towards Breda. "This game is only about luck. There is no skill and no honour in winning at poker."

"No honour, maybe, but you owe me a hundred cenz, boss," laughed Breda as he grabbed the chips and counted them. "And I won two rounds with less than what you had on your current hand."

"Pokerface, boss! Gotta work on yours." Havoc clapped Roy's back.

"Work on being a better loser, too, maybe?" Breda snatched the couple of notes Roy was handing him. "At least Fuery is gracious about it."

Roy got up with another groan, leaning on his closed fists on the table.

"I should have you sacked, the lot of you."

"Nah, boss, you'd miss us."

"Everyone's so fond of you, where else would you get your reality check?"

Roy glared at Havoc. The line was very fine between playful banter and insubordination, and he and Breda were currently doing somersaults over it.

"Clean this all and get out, before I snap."

The two of them sneered, but did as they were ordered, picking up the cards and chips. Falman and Fuery cleaned where they'd sat, pushing their chairs in place. All of them saluted and bid the others – and their boss – good night before they took their leave.

Hawkeye took her time, turning around the central table to look for forgotten chips or bretzel crumbs, checking some papers on her own desk that didn't need to be checked, before she walked towards Roy's desk, where he'd retreated to sulk in peace.

He observed her little game from the corner of his eye until she stopped in front of him.

She placed something he'd seen her retrieve from her desk drawer in front of him.

One painkiller and one antibiotic. When had she taken those from him, already?

"Oh, so that's why I played so bad. Drugging our superior, are we, Lieutenant?"

"I wish. You should have taken those two hours ago."

Roy's first impulse was to tell her to get lost, still grumpy as he was to have been made to look like a fool in front of his subordinates. Then he remembered. All those years ago, he'd pushed the same pills in her hand. And when she couldn't herself, he'd pushed them through her lips, and held her head for her to drink some water to swallow. He'd done that for days. Watched her sleep, guilt and fear for this girl he in fact barely knew gnawing at his brain. He hoped he would never have to do it again, but if he had to, he would.

That instantly wiped any offended ego feelings off his mind. Who was he to push her away when she wanted to show the same concern?

Roy shrugged, but he grabbed the pills, and gulped them down, using what remained of cold coffee in a cup that was lying around his desk. Hawkeye went on, sitting on the desk, while he winced – that coffee had been older than he thought.

"And no, I don't think you lost because of this, and pain is no excuse either – you might not lie to people or even yourself that well, and I know you don't like it, but where pain is concerned I know you can be stubborn enough to forget it."

"That bad, uh?"

Hawkeye had left her pokerface behind – her subtle expressions might not be noticeably different for the untrained eye, but Roy'd had years to train. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, and her mouth imperceptibly curved upwards.

He smiled in return.

"That bad. Please do not play poker ever again. It was awful."

"Oh, not gonna happen, Lieutenant. I don't like to lose."

"Oh, really? Didn't notice." Hawkeye saluted, the small smile not leaving her lips. "Good night, Colonel."

She turned around and went to leave, but Roy called her.

"Hawkeye?"

She turned back.

"Sir?"

"The wound is alright. Cleaned and closed and supervised. Don't worry, please."

"Take your antibiotics, sir."

"Promise, Lieutenant. Good night."

"Good night."

[aelaer]

🔫

Another whump icon prompt filled! And this is the last of my pre-written fics before my first poll, so now I *have* to work on figuring out how to write Loki...

Also a fill for @badthingshappenbingo! The bad thing happening to the protagonist is pretty light, *but* it's still a not-terribly-fun thing, so I figure it works out.

I was trying to write something else for this for ages (read: almost 3 years), but it never came out the way I wanted it to, and I still had this ancient prompt to fill so I figured I'd try not to make a huge story out of it and just do some writing exercises to get back into it. And the normal stuff wasn't working so I flipped the angst on its head to something a bit more BAMFy. Still a bad thing happening though. 

The MacGuffin here is pretty simple but hey, it works.

Lightning Before The Thunder Rating: Gen No pairings

On occasion, Doctor Strange still had to do mundane, normal-people things. He still needed to buy food and even magic wasn't quite as effective as the dry cleaners two blocks away for his suit, whenever he needed to wear it for whatever occasion presented itself.

Today it was the bank. The New York Sanctum still sat in the city it was named after, which meant that every year property taxes were due. And sometime between the Blip and now, the automatic payment to the city on the Sanctum's bank account stopped going through despite nothing changing, which meant Stephen had to go talk to someone to get it fixed. He figured it'd be easier to do it in person than try to navigate the menus in the bank's phone system and never ending hold times that characterized every customer service center after the Blip.

Despite his rather unfortunate infamy that came with his involvement with the Infinity Stones and the last battle against Thanos, he wasn't recognized nearly as often as, say, Tony Stark or Steve Rogers once were. In casual wear people rarely recognized him, and it was only once he gave his name that recognition lit up in stranger's eyes. He was thankful for the relative anonymity.

Stephen wasn't sure if said anonymity was a blessing or a curse when four armed robbers stormed the bank five minutes into his appointment. On one hand, they may have shot him for it if they thought he was a threat.

On the other hand, maybe that would have meant that the security guard wouldn't have been shot.

Each second of calculation felt like a minute. He could go immediately on the offensive and attack them, but their guns were pointed at clerks and patrons as they shouted for everyone to get down. They had already shot someone and the man was bleeding heavily.

He had a life to save first. He needed to play doctor—and hostage—before he could do anything else.

Stephen crawled to the security guard even as the robbers shouted orders across the building. He shed his outer shirt and pressed it against the security guard's bleeding shoulder. When he cried out in pain, one of the gunmen turned to him. 

"The fuck you doing? Get on the ground!" He turned the barrel at him. 

"I'm a doctor," Stephen said, voice even. He'd certainly faced worse, though he was really regretting not bringing the Cloak with him. "Let me help him."

The man hesitated, but another spoke up as he addressed the majority of the people by the counters. "Stay on the fucking ground and y'all live, right? Just stay there. No phones!"

That seemed to be enough for the gunman focused on Stephen. "Stay there," he ordered.

Stephen complied. Underneath his blood-soaked dress shirt he silently applied subtle healing magic to constrict blood flow from the wound, the glow barely going through the cloth. The security guard frowned at what would have been an unusual, warm feeling.

"What…"

"I'm a doctor," Stephen repeated. The blood flow was slowing down. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge the situation. Once he heard sirens outside and the gunmen were separated, he could act.

The security guard winced. "Is it—supposed to feel like that?" He glanced at his shoulder with a grimace that twisted into a confused frown as he caught some of the glow from underneath Stephen's shirt. "What the—"

"My name," he cut him off, words soft yet sharp, "is Doctor Stephen Strange. Do you understand?"

The man's eyes lit up in recognition. His gaze went beyond him to the action in the background. "Can you—can you help—"

"Everything will be fine," Stephen reassured him. "Just concentrate on breathing."

"Hey! No talking!" It seemed one of the robbers noticed their whispers. Stephen glanced up to see a gun being waved in his general direction, which was more annoying than frightening if he was to be entirely honest. Then again, his line of work had rather desensitized him, perhaps to a rather alarming degree. He wouldn't be able to get a shield out fast enough to stop a bullet.

Hmm. Were there spells out there that could? Probably. It was physical damage, so those that held against that may hold up.

His silence seemed to appease the gunman enough to get him to back off—or maybe it was the sirens finally at the building. Good. It would take a couple minutes for them to set up a perimeter, then he would act.

Stephen's chance came soon enough. The gunmen were split now with only two in the main foyer, and one of the two was wandering to the far end of the room to peek down the halls. Great.

He moved the security guard's hand to his wounded shoulder. "Press as hard as you can," he muttered. When the man did so, Stephen slipped his sling ring out of his pocket.

The first gunman was out in a blink. With one gesture Stephen tore the gun from the man's hands, scattering it to the other side of the bank. In the next the man fell through a portal that deposited him on the stairs of the building outside with barely a second to shout.

Still, his buddy heard the brief commotion, which worked perfectly for Stephen. He came from around the corner at a quick walk. "Jerry?"

That gunman suffered the same fate as Jerry. 

The bank employees and clients were staring at him now, naturally. With the other two robbers in the back room, Stephen felt it was safe enough for him to stand without anyone else getting hurt.

"Stay there," he told the other hostages. "I'll be right back." He strolled his way into the back where the other two robbers were.

They weren't even facing him when he approached. Disarming them and placing a portal under them almost felt like cheating. So it wasn't even two minutes later that Stephen was back in the front of the building. "All four of them have been deposited outside," he said to the person that looked like she was a manager. "Call the authorities and let them know it's only civilians within the building now, and that we need an ambulance." 

At her startled nod, he went back to the wounded security guard to see how he was holding up. "Medics will be here soon," he told him. "You'll be just fine."

"Thank—thank you."

"Don't mention it."

As he heard the front doors open a few minutes later, Stephen realized that he probably couldn't just slip away as he would have preferred to after giving the paramedics a summary. The civilians would definitely point his way, which meant he'd have to talk to the police.

Ugh. There went the rest of his day.

[creepling]

OKAY SO this isn't a request but i had a scenario i started thinking about last night when i tried to sleep that i wanted your opinion on (johnny on the brain always, unfortunately) and it's just... can you imagine being like, an honorary family friend of the sawyers (your grandparents were close with their grandparents back before times got hard and they had to resort to doing what they had to do, and now, while your folks are gone now and it's just you, drayton considers you off-limits out of respect for old grandpa) and you live a little bit far off from their farmland on your own dingy little farm. it's inherited from your parents, and it's... fucked up. you've got a lot of seeds, but nothing grows, and the house needs worked on and you just *don't* know the first thing about fixing any of it. you're, admittedly, pretty oblivious to what the sawyers do---you never come around without being invited and it's usually just a quick chat with drayton at the end of the road, and on the off chance you're driving your dad's beat up old truck close to their farm and hear any screaming you just think they have some really weird goats---but your visits are always short-lived and you haven't gotten to meet the new additions to the family yet. maybe you drive by to see drayton, drop off some seeds as a gift 'cause right now nothing's growing for you and they're just being wasted, and you mention something offhand about a rusty shed door that won't open or a leaky roof and drayton, after pulling him aside and giving him a very thorough talking to (you don't want to upset grandpa, after all, and your old folks WERE really good to them when they were living) about how he better not try anything, drayton sends johnny back with you to fix something as thanks for the seeds (because let's be honest, drayton doesn't have it in him anymore and johnny is arguably the most.. casual. able to act normal, if you will). so now you've got a sweaty, attractive greaser here to fix your roof that you've never met before. you feel bad about him having to do all the work because you're just so darn *clueless*, so you might as well make some lemonade and cut some watermelon so he can get a quick break from the heat! you keep sneaking glances and admittedly he's real charming, so it's not just the texas heat getting to you. maybe he thinks you're real sweet, if maybe a little oblivious. airheaded? whatever the word for it, you're certainly pretty amusing, and you're already pretty clearly off-limits for *killing*, but drayton never said anything about testing OTHER boundaries, now did he?

omg i love this sm. the fact that reader is normal because they never got brought up in some cannibal patriarch like the sawyers. but who knows, maybe the crops aint growing bc there’s family secrets buried in the soil?👀

also yard work johnny goes through my mind constant because he reminds me of the hot pool cleaners in movies or greaser mechanics. like i just know outside of killing this man is passed about made to do yard work and fix things up. drayton paps him off to fix cars and cut grass for extra cash or southern hospitality and johnny has to begrudgingly do it. but this time his client is hot and naive and fine to look at, so maybe he wants to stick around for a while. point out a leaked pipe so he can fix it and stay for longer, hnng

if you write you should defos make it into a fic, i’d read it in a heartbeat!!

[fridgrave]

Ok so, I know you're not the biggest fan of Ethan, and from what I can tell it's mainly stemmed from Rogue Nation and Fallout (mainly fallout, but if I'm wrong forgive me, I'd love to read more about your opinions they're really interesting).

What was first thing that made you dislike him, and do you have any thoughts on what Tom and McQ could (but won't) do to redeem Ethan in your eyes? What they could do to redeem anything that they've messed up in the movies they made?

(No problem f you don't care just thought it would be a good discussion)

wow that's a real question here 😳

and before I'll tell more about my dislike to ethan i must notice, what when i just came in this fandom two years and one month ago i loved ethan. i was a benthan stan, i made content with them (fics and art), and it was fun!

i was a 18 years old liberal girl with no idea how world is really working, i was much healthier mentally than now and my life was much easier. i had no need in everything — and i had no need to change my mind in such questions as "why countries can't be just friends so people like me would never die in different conflicts and wars". i can't say is that ignorance a bad or normal thing, it's up to you to decide, but I'm thinking all the people don't mind such things before it's touching them. we have too much other problems to think that globally while everything else is okay, but when it's bad you want to know why.

but I'm going too fast. even if my life was okay in 2020 i always had this... unifying theme in my art and other mind activities. it's inner potential. i always thought and still think what i'm nothing. i don't bring anything new or good in this world, so every character who became my blorbo got from me this inner conflict about this "changing the world" stuff — and yet me myself is not in my villain arc, all my blorbos are intended in good deeds as well (i like to think what i'm a good person, you know,,,). benji, whom i kinn A LOT, had this potential. he really is a guy who just wants everyone to be okay, he cares and tries his best, but he's not perfect as ethan and has some common sense. when i came in m:i fandom i knew what most of franchise audience sees benji as a comic relief while he's not worse than ethan, even more interesting sometimes — and much closer to a viewer because he makes mistakes. actually, benji is a viewer in some way, he helps to make movies more real and touching

i was... offended by it. i wanted benji to be in focus as he deserved, so i started to think: what did go wrong? my first thought was his conflict with solomon, what could be the best part of fallout and a great boost for this boring monotonous garbage, but in fact we had one dialog line between them and one unrealistic (but still stressful, not gonna lie) fight in the end. i wanted more. more tense between them, more of benji's trauma. i didn't ship them yet but i felt what this bond between them is more real and catching than between lane and ethan. why? because now i see what mc and cruise had no idea how to write a real fighter with a system. they make solomon a casual terrorist, what is a disappointment, because all his conflict with ethan now sucks as well. mccruises tried to make one type of an antagonist, but if you understand at least something in world-system theory (as real system fighter SHOULD understand) you would see what lane's deeds in rn do literally nothing to bring any changes. you could see more my thoughts about it in my recent fic "on the sleeve".

so, i started to think about benji and solomon and their conflict more, putting ethan on a background. i still liked him, but started to see that lanedunn dynamic what turned into other my fic i never finished (insp by the inheritance with simon)

and then, at summer of 2021 me and my bestie grisha came up with idea what trembled me a lot: after solomon the best antagonist for ethan would be benji. it started from benji's love to ethan, what benji was tired of government and how they treated everyone — and especially ethan. but, thinking about this consent we realized why this works and doesn't work in the same time

this was the moment when i saw the most huge ethan's problem. he never changes.

me and grisha understood what benji's side is logically right. what agencies like cia make things much worse than people they fight with, and while ethan is on their side he's wrong (i met grisha thanks to the show "person of interest what has that m:i vibes but much much cooler and it talks on such themes as government crimes, check this out!). so we had a problem: or on our story benji looses what is a bad end, or ethan dies or something — but never changes his side because he can't to this. i talked about how he never changes and i'm too tired to write it again on english, а на русском вы читать не будете.

that was solomon's time. we started our syndicate au, but with shipping benji and lane we needed to work on syndicate as an entity. we took the idea what mccruises wanted to put in it and made it real, so a bunch of terrorists became a solid organization what has a goal to bring a real revolution in this world

i started my way as a communist. my life was getting worse as well and i saw how capitalism is dangerous for the most of the people. i was thinking about it, but after 24 of february it became clear as a day for me

how is this connected to ethan? well, it's harder to say how it's not

tom cruise is a billionaire producer, and every single idea in mission impossible comes through his point of view: point of view of a white rich american man. he's connect with usa government just like his character ethan, but while hunt runs over the globe and fights with bad guys tom cruise uses his money and influence to make such movies like m:i and top gun which whole idea is simple: usa always wins. usa are good guys. usa sending their agents into other countries without any permission because usa knows what's right and what's wrong, like it was in iran, vientam, syria and other countries. usa has the best airborne, the best army and technology. i can tell this for a long time, but it's not necessary — all of you saw this in hundreds of movies. all i said is not a secret

and ethan is an embodiment of this capitalistic system. perfect american man who never lose. ethan always knows best, whatever his friends say, he can find a way in every situation, can beat a guy who's smarter than him with no reason and explanation, can return to life even after deadly experience

and since i realized this i hate ethan. he's not even a character — he's a system itself. the system i'm against of. i have no respect for him, because he has no value as just a character. he is a mary (marty?) sue made for one reason: make you believe what usa is good and cool one. for 6 films cruise didn't gave ethan nothing more than some epic scenes. no personality, no growth. and if tom cruise doesn't see ethan as a character — why should i?

[koqabear]

okay. starting this off by saying that i refer to mc as both mc and You in this, so i hope it doesn't get confusing!

sol... friend... *cat hug gif* this was definitely worth the wait because it's by far the best halloween and yandere fic i've ever read and i'm just so amazed at how you manage to outdo yourself Every Time?? and that the time and work you spent on this were worth every single second because holy shit do i have so much to say 😭😭 it'll probably read as an analysis essay so i just want to apologize beforehand but you're gonna have to bear with me because. there's just so much i want to cover 🙏🏼

for starters, i just want to talk about how amazing the building and development was for beomgyu and yeonjun, in fact i think they deserve their own paragraphs because they were two extremely distinct characters despite having the same goal which was getting mc (meee :3) to recognize and love them

i'll start off with beomgyu, not because he's my bias or anything but because i feel that he was just so much more complex? from the very beginning, it was very clear that he'd be the instigator and aggressor. sure, you can't help but take a peak at a photo album, fine. that's excusable. curiosity got the best of you. now, i don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind while you were writing, but this is just how i interpreted it so feel free to correct or add onto this next part! when you first posted the teaser, i was immediately suspicious of beomgyu, aside from the snooping and having a guilty conscience which leads him to say he didn't do something he did, he also mentioned installing software and adblockers onto mc's laptop. innocent, right? not to me! i immediately suspected him of doing something like installing a rat (remote access trojan, for those who don't know) to hack into her webcam, to watch and spy on her, and what does he do? he does just that! and if that wasn't bad enough, he watches her have sex with jaemin and gets off on it. it was these two scenes that really set the tone for who beomgyu was going to be in this story, so it was really no surprise to me that he was the one who came up with the plan to team up to get rid of jaemin. in fact, he was probably the one who came up with the plan for soobin too, but i'll get into that later. 

for now, i'll talk about yeonjun and his development—more specifically beomgyu's manipulation and how it changes him (or so we thought). rest assured that i will come back to talk about this again because it goes full circle, but ANYWAYS! yeonjun, for the most part, is nothing like beomgyu. that much was obvious to me. both his relationship with mc, maintaining boundaries (both friendship and privacy ones, cough BEOMGYU) are complete opposite of beomgyu's. instead of being a stranger, who can easily sneak peaks into your private folders, sneakily hack into your webcam and watch you do mundane things in what's supposed to be the comfort of your own home—yeonjun is mc's friend, and her best friend at that. he would never think of stalking you, your classmate and "boyfriend", not without a little push at least. he'll just watch from afar, casually inserting himself in your friend groups, following you when you both went off to college—standing outside of the restaurant you're currently at on a date with your classmate. yeonjun would only watch from afar, never really taking any action for his feelings for mc. beomgyu sees this and he takes advantage of it. he pushes yeonjun because if he just stands on the sidelines his whole life, how will mc ever notice him? and after beomgyu gets that into yeonjun's head, he slowly, but surely, falls to his demise.

beomgyu acts as the devil, slowly corrupting yeonjun to the point of no return and i think a really great way of introducing this as well as showing their differences was in the scene where beomgyu first introduces the idea of teaming up and mc finally makes her way over to them. beomgyu lies so easily to mc, as if he does it all the time and without a care in the world, whereas yeonjun hates it. he hates that he has to follow along with the lie beomgyu comes up with because he can't tell mc what they were actually talking about. this leads me to my next point—beomgyu gets yeonjun to do things he wouldn't normally do. after teaming up with beomgyu, yeonjun stalks jaemin with the intent of catching him cheating and he does, so just as planned, he goes to tell mc and plan sabatoge jaemc's relationship is in motion! until it's not anymore and mc accidentally goes off the grid to visit her aunt for a few days and by the time she comes back, beomgyu has just suggested the idea of tracking devices and cameras to yeonjun so he can keep a closer eye on her, but surprise surprise! guess who is one step ahead or behind, really? yeonjun! he's only ever thought of the things beomgyu has already done to invade mc's privacy and all he needed was that push from beomgyu and a little stressful situation to prove he's just as bad (hehehe see what i did there?) as beomgyu and by the end of the night not only are there two rats on mc's laptop, but now she has a fun little tracking chip on her phone <3 both courtesy of none other than the devil on yeonjun's shoulder: beomgyu!

after this is where things really start to get interesting. both of them have invaded mc's privacy and now it's just a question of how far they're willing to go—which is extremely fucking far apparently. this was my favorite part to read, mainly because it was the first turning point of the story and i absolutely loved how you suddenly closed off beomgyu and yeonjun's thoughts and perspectives because with soobin involved now, it really had me questioning all three of them 😭 at first i thought it was soobin because as i was reading the letter i immediately picked up on the "i just wish i could get you on your own," and i connected it back to him saying, "i'm glad he's gone though, cause now i get you to myself!" but then i noticed how the letter said "i'm content simply watching from the sidelines," and "but there's always someone that wants to get in the way of us," which i connected back to yeonjun. so i was really conflicted and even more when there was a picture of mc at the cafe because it really could've been either of them... by the second letter, although i was still thinking of soobin, i noticed how the pictures would only have beomgyu or yeonjun with mc by themselves and never together and my suspicion of them only grew when you wrote "even when they were taken in the same locations, the camera angles were always different and unpredictable." i thought it was almost as if... two different people were taking them 🤔🤔 but then you completely threw me off my track and back to soobin with the note soobin left mc saying "...but take it as a token of my gratitude in return for what you did :)" and if that wasn't enough, you threw me back on the right track again with the missing camera footage because (i don't know how i connected this) if beomgyu and yeonjun both have access to her laptop and can see what she's doing on it, surely they can access what's on the laptop and tamper with it? BUT THEEENNN you threw me OFF track AGAIN with the texts from "soobin" and the very last letter... it just had to be soobin with the way he noticed mc being different and did nice things for her like taking off workloads and making sure she was okay. "i miss seeing you happy." i was like ofc it's soobin! until it wasn't.

fast forward, mc is now in the cage cabin and the ghost of soobin (yes, his ghost. i am very convinced this part was not a hallucination) is mad as hell because oh my god?? "did you ever hear me admit to it?” “don’t you ever wonder what i was trying to tell you? you’re so cruel.” MAN!!! i know he was heated 😭😭 i can't even blame him... hallucination or not, he had a point! sure he couldve talked a bit faster and maybe he wouldnt have died but a good story >>>> logic 🙏🏼 my poor soobin though..... 😢 i was thinking he should get his own ghost spin off just bc i felt so bad like omg my fucking meow meow??? they (i) killed him!! 😭😭😭 he deserved so much better though fr.,,,

the story gets even more interesting at the cabin though, because now beomgyu and yeonjun have just succeeded in getting mc to rely on them so now they're in this weird little demented honeymoon stage where they coddle her and delude her into thinking this is what's good for her, that they're all she needs which makes her even More dependent on them but eventually this passes and mc opens her eyes to see what's Really happening and the facade slowly begins to crack once she starts thinking of leaving. manipulation is x1000 here, and surprisingly it's from Both of them.  beomgyu is way too good at manipulating and guilt tripping mc because when he used her murdering soobin Against her to keep her inside i was like damn..... he's sick for that! but it was expected, so when YEONJUN did the same thing after mc realizes he's hiding something from her i was like omg....? this is fr all beomgyu's fault! yeonjun took a beomgyu manipulation and guilt tripping 101 class and aced it

anyways they start using soobin against her, they make her wear a dog collar with a bell that's actually a tracking device and when she tries to escape, they cuss at her and isolate her as punishment despite her having had a fever, which is. courtesy of beomgyu... again. isn't he just the sweetest!

also, since i've basically implied that i think beomgyu is the crazier one because he is CAN I JUST SAY. the scene where they're spying on mc while she's trying to comfort herself after a hallucination and beomgyu Sexualizes it. yeah that did not help his case at all he definitely had a few screws loose because what the fuck 😭 

and just when i thought they couldnt get any crazier.... They go completely off the fucking rails because not only does beomgyu choke mc and tell her he doesn't care if she dies (i mean i kind of figured after the whole punishment despite her being on the bed with a fever and the implied starving Again) but yeonjun opens his eyes (briefly) and saves mc from dying by stabbing beomgyu. then that single stab turns into numerous and yeonjun has officially: lost it. he kind of gets it back together though and this is the part where i mentioned it going full circle BECAUSEEE as he's begging mc for forgiveness he tries to blame it on beomgyu, insisting that it was all him and up next is my favorite part:

"YOU'RE JUST AS BAD!"

i absolutely hate when things are written in all caps like this in fanfictions but i LOOOOVEDD this 😭😭🙏🏼

and then it just cuts off here bc i went to sleep... – ml

Specific points are addressed below the cut!

(About Beomgyu)

-Yes! Beomgyu was always meant to sort of be the “mastermind” of it all. By pushing others to do things he wants, he gets the saftey rope of being able to go “but it wasn’t me!”— hence his absolute joy when mc kills Soobin. He’s someone who’s quick to take advantage where he sees fit, and is just a very apathetic character overall— if anything, he saw how easy it was to get rid of Jaemin and thought “if we can get away with that, we can probably get away with more.” I think a big part of him was that he almost got a thrill from how far he could push boundaries and get away with it. 

(About Yeonjun)

-The best part about writing Yeonjun was that he genuinely believed he was better than others— even though he didn’t show it, he used his long friendship with the mc as a way to feel superior, which only got worse as Beomgyu fed into it more and more. I'm glad you touched on this! It’s what made the story so fun to write 🫶

(Abt. beomjun’s relationship)

-I can’t express how giddy it feels to know that you’re picking up on such details!! Yeonjun has never been innocent— it was all an act, afterall. And, most of this time he’s simply been looking for an excuse to do the things he does. Not only is Beomgyu manipulating him, but Yeonjun is allowing it, because he needs a real reason for his actions— he would never act on such thoughts on his own, he’s simply too innocent for that! 

(Abt. The stalker/letters)

-This paragraph always makes me smile so hardakshw 

I think the third act was definitely my favorite to write! I was worried that closing off the perspectives of Yeongyu would be seen as an easy way out to make others suspect Soobin— but I’m happy to hear it worked out just as I planned!! 

There’s actually a reason as to why Soobin gave the mc the note— “a token of my gratitude…” but I won’t disclose why until someone points it out ��� (which is unlikely, but still!) but Yeongyu were very careful when it came to covering up their tracks— making sure that the letters weren’t too personal and were written to make it seem like one person was a good tactic. The idea of the letters only really came up once Soobin showed up— and it was only more convincing because of how persistent Soobin was to gain mc’s affection. 

But alsoooo, because Beomgyu has access to the mc’s laptop, of course he would go farther to cover up their tracks! He knew it would unerve her even more, which only made her more dependent in the end <3

(What if Soobin spoke faster?)  -Yes…. Soobin couldve gotten to the point much quicker 😭 BUT here’s where I enjoy the idea of this scenario— it wouldn’t have worked out in the end. 

Soobin is a very emotional character in this story— and is also very easy to manipulate by yeongyu. We all saw how reckless he became at the realization of who the stalker was; he became violent and unstable, because he knew he was in danger. In the end, it would’ve been Yeongyu that killed him, had he gotten his words out faster— but of course, only in self defense! He was unstable after all. 

(Beomjun’s honeymoon phase) -I can’t begin to imagine how giddy gyu was to see mc killing Soobin—because not only is he sick enough to find it endearing and think that her love was so intense for them (him) too that she was willing to kill for them (him) (it was actually because of adrenaline and panic, but he’ll keep those rose tinted glasses on no matter what) but he also saw it as a new, glorious way to manipulate and guilt trip her! His innocence is intact, but her’s isn’t— the mc is also a very empathic and emotional character, which only becomes her downfall because of how quick Beomgyu is to take advantage of that. 

(Beomgyu is off the rails!/ his ability to constantly sexualize mc)

-I laughed so hard at this because BOY do I have something to say about that!! 

I never stated this explicitly, but Beomgyu gets offff on her vulnerability!! I was going to write a scene where she’s literally breaking down and sobbing, and Beomgyu’s first instinct is to overstimulate her until she can’t think straight (it was originally going to be the scene where Beomgyu first kisses her in the cabin, but I decided against it.) but I didn’t want to make it seem like the smut was only there because I wanted to be self indulgent and romanticize their relationship. (Yes, the smut did have a point to it!)

(Abt. the ending) 

-I’m going to elaborate more on this part in the next ask, but yes. Yes yes yes the climax was SO fucking fun to write. 

I love you soooo much for this, I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am for such a lengthy and detailed review!!! Thank you so much, I’ll answer your next ask after this !!