#When you're really not a fic writer but you try!

[swrkn]

glad to see a new writer for wb manhwa and i already love ur oliver fic 🫶🏻 since ur req open can i request for hyuk with his highschool crush (&& preferably fem!reader) thankyeww!!

Between The Lines

Highschool!hyuk x highschool!fem!reader

Genre ; sfw , fluff

Author note ; Thanks for the compliment :)) I think i will probably do a part 2 fort this fic , since the end is kinda an open one. English is not my first language so im sorry if there are any mistakes, my request are still open !!

Hyuk wasn't exactly what you'd call a model student. He spent most of his time in the back of the classroom, head down, doodling in the margins of his notebook or staring out the window. School was just a thing to endure until the day was over.

But lately, his gaze had been lingering on someone else : Y/n

She sat a few seats ahead of him, always focused, her pencil moving gracefully across her notebook. She wasn't the type to cause a scene or demand attention, but Hyuk noticed her in everything she did. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought, the way she always make a little smile when she answers a question correctly, little things that most people probably don’t notice.

Hyuk though? He noticed everything.

One day after school, Hyuk stayed behind, pretending to look for something in his desk, but in reality, he was waiting for Y/n. She was always one of the last to leave, making sure her notes were perfect before packing up.Sure enough, she was still there, flipping through her textbook, her brow slightly furrowed.

"Hey, Y/n," Hyuk said casually, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.

She looked up, quit surprised. "Oh, Hyuk. What's up?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "You're pretty good at math, right? I'm kinda stuck on this problem." It wasn't a total lie-math wasn't exactly his strong suit. But more than anything, he just wanted an excuse to talk to her.

Y/n tilted her head, a small smile forming. "Math? Didn't think you'd ask for help with that."Hyuk shrugged, leaning against her desk. "Figured you'd be the best person to ask."

She laughed softly and moved her chair over to make room. "Alright, show me what you ve got."

They spent the next half hour going over equations and formulas. Y/n was patient with him, explaining things in a way that actually made sense to Hyuk. Everytime he got something right, she'd give him an encouraging nod or a quick "See? You're getting it."

Hyuk found himself more focused than he'd ever been in class. Not because of the math, but because of her. As they worked, he couldn't help but notice little things: the faint scent of her shampoo, the way her lips pursed slightly when she was thinking.

At one point, their hands accidentally brushed as she reached for his notebook. Y/n didn't seem to notice, but Hyuk's heart skipped a beat.

"See? It's not so hard once you break it down," Y/n said, tapping the page with her pencil.

Hyuk nodded, trying to act like he wasn't completely distracted. "Yeah, thanks. I guess I just needed a good teacher." Y/n smiled, a little embarrassed, "Happy to help you out."

As they packed up to leave, Y/n glanced at him. "You know, you're not as bad at this as you think. You just need to put in the effort."

Hyuk smirked. "Guess I'll have to ask for your help more often, then."

She laughed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Well, if you're serious, I'll be at the library after school tomorrow. Feel free to stop by."

Hyuk felt a surge of excitement. "Yeah? Alright, maybe I will."

They walked out of the classroom together, the hallway quiet and bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. For once, Hyuk didn't mind the idea of spending more time in school. If it meant getting to know Y/n a little better, he was all in.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd learn more than just math along the way.

I really think im gonna do a second part , let me know what you guys think !

✵

[skateordiebitch]

I loved the proposal fic! You're very talented <3 Please don't ever stop feeding the fandom! Another request: Dom having this huge crush on you and being flirty and touchy all the time, sending you songs, making excuses to talk to you but you don't take him seriously because of his reputation (we all know that boy is a cheater lol) but then he grows on you and you realize he likes you for real.

Sorry if this is messy or confusing but I'm sure you can turn this into something good because you're a great writer!! <3

you are the right one || D.F. x reader

'you are the right one and i'm just the boy who is lookin' at you, so what will i do?'

summary: charming? absolutely. loyal? that was up for debate. dom has an insufferable crush on you, and his reputation is as messy as his pick up lines.

you guys really have no idea how much it means to me that people actually read these omg. like WHAT?! thank u so much for all the support, and i've been absolutely loving these requests! please submit as many as ur hearts desire frl.

this fic is inspired by 'you are the right one' by sports. enjoy! <3

Dominic was the kind of guy who could charm a rock.

He was always around—at parties, at coffee shops, wherever you happened to be, he’d somehow appear with that half-smile and a glint in his eye.

The look that said he had all the time in the world to flirt with you.

It wasn’t a secret that he had a reputation, and you’d heard plenty about it. So when he started paying attention to you, you took it with a grain of salt.

He was practically notorious. 

His name was synonymous with scandal; the stories floated around like smoke in a crowded room, filling every corner. He’d been caught sneaking out of afterparties with one girl, only to be spotted cozying up with another a few nights later. 

People talked about him like he was a force of nature—someone who left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, yet somehow still managed to charm his way back into everyone’s good graces.

Known for giving others a little too much attention, sending flirty texts to way too many people, and for leaving relationships messier than they started.

You’d heard it all.

Which is why, despite his insistent attention on you over the past few months, you’d tried not to take him seriously.

He had a way of simply popping up at every gathering, every coffee shop, every late-night hangout. And no matter where you went, there he was, leaning against a doorframe or lounging in some corner with that half-smile. 

It was the look of a guy who knew he was being watched.

Every time he leaned in a little too close or casually dropped a line about how he couldn’t get you out of his head, a voice in the back of your mind reminded you of his reputation. 

You’d seen him in action, laughing too easily with strangers, that familiar gleam in his eye whenever he found someone new to capture his attention.

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

It almost seemed like a challenge to him, as if winning you over would prove something—not just to you, but to himself.

Dominic was nothing, if not persistent.

—

It started off with little things. 

You’d see him at a party, and he’d make his way over, leaning just close enough to make your pulse race. 

“Hey,” he’d say in that low voice of his, like he was letting you in on a secret. “Fancy running into you here.”

You’d roll your eyes. “Not that fancy,” you’d reply. “You’re here every night.”

He’d laugh, brushing it off. “What can I say? I’m where the action is. And apparently, so are you.”

Or even one night, at a mutual friend’s house party, he caught you in the kitchen, pouring a drink.

“Here we go again,” you muttered as he sidled up, practically beaming.

“What?” He feigned innocence, leaning against the counter like he had nowhere else to be. “I’m just here for the ambiance.”

“Sure,” you replied dryly, stirring your drink. “Not here to bug me at all.”

“Bug you?” He placed a hand over his heart, looking deeply wounded. “Why would I bug the most interesting, most beautiful person in the room?”

And as time went on, you realized he was doing a pretty good job of getting under your skin. He was funny and had this odd knack for showing up exactly when you needed a laugh. 

But, it was all smooth talk, and you knew better than to read into it. 

—

He would even pop up in your messages with carefully curated playlists and random memes at odd hours. One night, at nearly three in the morning, he sent you a song. You clicked it, half asleep, listening to the slow, soulful lyrics.

“Seriously? You’re sending me Drake at 3 a.m.?” you texted back.

His reply came almost immediately: “What? I just thought you’d appreciate the vibes. Don’t you like it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, even though you knew better. “It’s fine,” you replied, trying to sound unimpressed, “If I was a prepubescent boy.”

He shot back, “Ouch. I pour my heart into a late-night playlist, and all I get is ‘fine’? Remind me not to be romantic with you anymore.”

“You call that romantic?!” you teased.

He responded with a winking emoji. “You’d know if I was trying to be romantic. Trust me.”

You laughed, but kept your guard up. 

That was just Dominic—he never quit. 

He sent you song after song, funny memes at all hours, anything he thought might make you laugh. He’d slip compliments into the conversation when you least expected them. 

Charming? Absolutely. Loyal? That was up for debate.

You knew he had a habit of leaving a trail of broken hearts in his footsteps, and you weren’t about to fall for it.

But, he was relentless. He seemed to show up everywhere, always ready with that same easy charm.

—

One day, you found yourself sitting outside on the patio of your favorite cafe when he strolled by, immediately making a U-turn to come sit next to you.

“Need some company?” he asked, his voice dripping with faux-casual charm.

“Mmm, not particularly,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Perfect, because I’m excellent at being unwanted company,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you and leaning in. “So, I have a dilemma. You seem like a good person to solve it.”

“Oh really?” You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of dilemma?”

“Well,” he drawled, pretending to look serious, “I can’t figure out if I should ask you for your number… or just keep showing up everywhere you are and hope you’ll take the hint.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “You already have my number, Dominic. Remember when you sent me that completely unnecessary playlist at three in the morning?”

He grinned. “Ah, yes. That was for your listening pleasure. And it was absolutely necessary, by the way.”

“Dominic, please,” you paused, “I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were following me.”

“Me? Follow you?” He grinned, looking scandalized. “I would never! I just happen to have excellent timing.”

“Should I file a restaining order against you or something?” You chuckled, sipping your drink.

“C'mon, you wouldn’t do that,” Dominic purrs, “How would we be able to swoon over each other? Maybe, you're just everywhere I go. Who says… you’re not my stalker?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off, but the truth was, you’d started to enjoy the banter. 

“You’re so full of it, Dominic. Your ego is gonna spill out of you someday.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in just enough that you could smell the faint hint of his cologne, “Maybe, I just like being wherever you are,” he said, his voice playful but sincere. “Ever think about that?”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s it,” you replied, rolling your eyes. But when he looked at you with those eyes, warm and mischievous, it was hard not to feel the tiniest flicker of something more.

There was something infectious about his easy confidence, the way he didn’t mind looking silly as long as he could make you laugh. You were starting to understand what all of his other girls saw in him.

He seemed to notice the crack in your defenses and leaned closer, voice low. “Give me a shot. One date. No games, no flirting with anyone else.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “I’m not exactly into sharing, Dominic. And word on the street is you’re into… well, everyone.”

His expression softened, but there was still a glimmer of that charming confidence. “What if I told you I’m into just one person now?”

“Yeah?” you challenged. “And how long’s that going to last?”

“As long as you want it to,” he murmured, leaning close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You say that now. But I don’t have time to be just another girl in your playlist, Dominic.”

He straightened, putting his hand on his chest in mock offense. “Wow. You really think I’m that bad, huh?”

“Honestly? Yes, I do,” you said, unable to keep the smile from creeping onto your face.

"Why is that?" Dominic asked, as if he was genuinely perplexed.

You tilted your head, giving him a look. “You really want me to list all the reasons?”

He leaned back, crossing his arms in that casual way of his, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Go on then. Enlighten me.”

You took a deep breath, pretending to count off on your fingers. “Let’s see… for starters, you flirt with anything that breathes, you’ve got a track record of, I don't know, cheating on people, and I’ve heard more stories about your ‘endeavors’ than I can count. Should I go on?”

His smile didn’t waver, but something in his eyes softened as he listened, really listened. “Alright, fair points,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look. “But maybe I’ve grown up a little. I'm ready to settle down. People change, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident. “People change, but Dominic, you’re—well, you’re you.”

He laughed, and for a moment, it was as if the whole world faded away, leaving just the two of you in that charged little bubble.

“Guilty as charged,” he said with a shrug. “But what if I’m tired of being that guy? What if I want something real for once?”

There was a flicker of sincerity in his voice that made your heart do a little flip. You glanced away, unsure of what to say, feeling a warmth in your cheeks that you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Look,” he continued, his voice softer, “all I’m asking for is a chance. No strings, no expectations, just… a chance to show you who I really am. I promise I won’t pull any tricks. What do you say?”

You hesitated, trying to ignore the excitement sparking in your chest. A part of you wanted to say yes, to give him that one shot. But there was also that voice in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the things you’d heard, all the stories that seemed impossible to ignore.

But then you met his gaze again. He wasn’t grinning or trying to charm you with a clever line. He was just standing there, his face open, honest, like he was waiting on the edge of something.

“Fine,” you said finally, surprising even yourself. “Prove to me that you've 'changed,' and I'll give you a chance.”

He let out a breath, a grin breaking through. “Deal! I swear, you’ll see. I'll show you that I'm the guy you've been searching for your whole life.”

You shook your head, laughing at his confidence. “Big promises, Dominic.”

He gave a playful bow, pretending to be serious.

“You deserve nothing less."

—

And, in the weeks that followed, things started to shift. 

You found yourself looking forward to his messages, to the way he’d light up when he saw you, to the little moments where he’d brush his hand against yours and you’d feel that thrill you couldn’t deny anymore. 

He was actually... proving something.

He was still the same Dominic—funny, charming, a little ridiculous—but there was something deeper, something real that he was finally showing you.

He kept sending you songs, but now you listened to them more closely. They weren’t just random choices—they were songs that held meaning, songs that made you feel like he was trying to tell you something without saying it out loud.

You guys actually sat and talked for hours, the conversation flowing naturally, the usual teasing giving way to deeper things.

He shared stories about his family, about the things he wanted to do that no one else knew.

And for the first time, you caught a glimpse of a Dominic you hadn’t expected—a thoughtful, almost vulnerable side that he rarely let anyone see.

—

On one Thursday evening, Dominic texted you out of the blue:

“Come to my show tomorrow night. I’ll even reserve you the best seat in the house.”

You’d almost laughed out loud. The confidence. The nerve. Yet, his invitation was so open, so brazen, that you found yourself hesitating to reply with your usual sarcasm.

Instead, you typed back, “Best seat? And what does that entail?”

“A chair within arm’s reach of me at all times,” he replied instantly, adding a winking emoji. “So I can serenade you properly, of course.”

Rolling your eyes, you typed, “I’ll think about it,” but you knew you’d already made up your mind. 

Maybe you wanted to see him in his element, to see if this easy charm carried over to the stage, or maybe you were just curious to see if he’d actually live up to the hype he constantly built up around himself.

—

The air in the venue was charged with anticipation, warm bodies pressed together, the smell of spilled beer and cheering fans filling the room. 

As you pushed your way closer to the front, a sight caught your eye—a single chair with a handwritten note taped to it. 

“Reserved for my stalker,” it read in his sloppy scrawl. 

You rolled your eyes but smiled, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. Somehow, Dominic had managed to make this loud, chaotic place feel... personal?

The lights dimmed, and the murmuring crowd hushed as Dominic appeared on stage, guitar in hand. 

His usual confident grin was there, but something else lingered beneath it—something softer, maybe even vulnerable. The crowd cheered, but as he adjusted the microphone, his gaze found yours, and it held there, unblinking, like he was trying to tell you something without words.

“Hey, everyone,” he said into the mic, his voice a warm, familiar sound. “I’ve got a few new songs for you… some just for fun, and… one for a special someone, who might know who they are.” 

His eyes stayed on you for just a moment longer before he looked away, and in that second, a ripple of curiosity and warmth spread through you. 

He started to play, fingers gliding over the guitar strings with ease, and then his voice filled the room. 

The song was slow, raw, each note lingering in the air. His lyrics were unexpectedly honest—about someone who held him at arm’s length, who had walls around them that he’d do anything to tear down. 

He sang about working harder than he ever had, about falling for someone who wasn’t swayed by his charm but made him want to be better.

You sat, utterly captivated, your eyes locked on his, and it felt like there was no one else in the room. 

The song had an intimacy to it, like he was peeling back layers you hadn’t even realized he had, and it struck you right in the heart. 

When he sang the final line—If I set fire to these walls right now, would I set foot inside your mind? And if you say yes, am I allowed… back in?—a shiver ran through you.

As the last note faded, the crowd erupted in cheers, but Dominic’s gaze stayed on you, as if to say, ‘Did you hear me? Did I finally prove myself?’

The rest of the show was electric, each song a pulse of energy that had the crowd moving, dancing, singing along. 

But nothing else hit quite the same way as that first song, the one that felt like it was made just for you. 

By the time the show wrapped up, you were buzzing with emotions you hadn’t expected, wondering if you’d been wrong about Dominic all along.

After the final song, you made your way backstage, weaving through the crowd. 

When you found him, he was standing by himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead, looking a little nervous—a side of him you’d never seen before. 

His face lit up when he spotted you, but his usual smirk was gone. Instead, he looked almost shy.

“Hey you,” he said, voice a little breathless. “You… you made it.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a teasing smile. “Yeah, I made it. Figured I’d give you a chance to show off.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, did I? You think maybe I made my case?”

You hesitated, but then nodded, your voice softer than you’d planned. “Yeah... I think maybe you did.”

There was a beat of silence, then he took a step closer, and his hand brushed against yours. It was a small touch, but it sent a shiver up your arm, and suddenly the air between you felt charged, like you were the only two people in the room.

“So… there’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. He lifted his hand, tracing his thumb lightly along your cheek. His fingers trembled slightly, a sign that he was holding back just as much as you were.

You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken. “Yeah?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “What’s that?”

In answer, he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The world seemed to slow, the noise of the crowd dimming until all you could hear was the soft hum of his breathing. 

His lips brushed yours, tentative and gentle at first, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

It wasn’t like any kiss you’d had before. 

It was slow, unhurried, filled with the kind of warmth that made you forget every warning you’d given yourself about him. 

You could feel his heartbeat against your own, his fingers curling into your hair as if he was afraid you might disappear.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and there was no hint of that usual confidence. He looked… hopeful.

“Think I could finally take you on a date?” he asked softly, his thumb grazing your cheek.

You smiled, feeling your walls crumble in a way you hadn’t thought possible. “Don’t make me regret it, Dominic.”

He let out a laugh, warm and relieved, his eyes bright with something that looked a lot like joy. “I won’t,” he promised, brushing a stray hair from your face. “Not this time. I mean it.”

And as he stood there, holding you close in the dim glow of the backstage lights, you felt something click into place. 

You didn’t know where this was going, or if he’d really changed for good, but in that moment, it felt like enough. 

[lale-txt]

do you have a update schedule for soft launch smau? its so good i rly wish there was more 😭

buddy you and me both! i don't have a schedule for it. Soft Launch is a project from the heart and i don't wanna stress myself out with trying to stick to some posting dates. i work full-time, have a poor mental health to juggle, need a sweet little treat per day to function and then there's also the horrors

there'll be times when i'll update it 3x a week and then times when a month passes by in radio silence. also holding your hands while saying the next bit, as a more general reminder, please don't forget that your authors are only humans, not content machines, and the best way to fuel their creativity & motivation is by leaving kind words on their works, not by asking for updates :)

[herearedragons]

making an outline for the murder mystery au and I'm already getting way into it

[miabrown007]

eurgh pacing

[pygmi-says-hi]

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you’re really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it’s only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they’re bleeding. stop with the ‘i didn’t even feel it’ yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it’s really gushin’, other times it’s a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it’s slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain’t that articulate. even if they’re mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that’s ur trope - or a secret, it’s gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they’re gonna feel fine. until….bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 110F. no 'oh no his fever is 120F!! ahhh!“ no his fever is 0F because he’s fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it’s a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

seizures (severe)

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

ALSO about fevers - they absolutely can cause hallucinations. Sometimes these alter memory and future memory processing. they're scary shit guys.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

ALSO I FORGOT LEMME ADD ON:

YOU DIE AT 85F

sorry I forgot. at that point for a sustained period of time you're too cold to survive.

pt 2

also please stop traumadumping in the notes/tags, that's not the point of this post. it's really upsetting to see on my feed, so i'm muting the notifs for this post. if you have a question about this post, dm me, but i don't want a constant influx of traumatic stories. xox

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[theghostofashton]

.

[teamhangaround]

Oh my God?! I'm so honored! <3 <3 <3 Everybody, go read this beautifully written fic!

They won!

[paganinpurple]

AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

[siriuslylantsov]

juno

pairing: spencer reid x college!reader

description: in which spencer gets a little worked up when the two of you dance so when you get home a few hours later, you make it up to him.

tags: MDNI! smut, fluff, alcohol consumption, established relationship, tiny age gap (reader is 23 and spencer is 27), fem!reader, softdom!spencer but also a little sub, switch!reader, spencer gets a boner at a party lol, nipple stuff, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected pinv, brief finger sucking, dirty talk (gasp), praise kink, munch!spencer (my fav), nicknames used (angel, baby, sweet girl, etc.), little bit of overstim, reader isnt inebriated during it (hazy initially) but she sobers up quick, lmk if im missing anything.

a/n: to add on to the influx of sabrina carpenter song inspired fics, here is juno. i went through a rigorous process of deciding which spencer era i wanted for this and settled on s4 spence. my first smut, this was awful and fucking exhausting to write, idk how you smut writers do it but we got through it. hope you like it...

wc: 4.2k

the room is dimly lit, candles scattered on every flat surface– this is a fire hazard, calm down spence. there's a steady buzz of conversation that passes through the room, just enough people that it isn't overcrowded nor is it too sparse, it’s a stark contrast to the other parties—loud, sweaty and cramped—that have been springing up as the semester draws to a close. the pros of having an invite-only party, you think. 

the dress code, though not formally stated, is dark and moody. god knows what that means–just wear something black and make sure it's sexy. so there you are, in a mini skirt, an off shoulder black top with sleeves that end at your knuckles, knee high boots, and a pair of sheer tights. 

spencers in a black button up and matching dress pants. he looks good, really fucking good. his hair slicked back in a way you can only describe as prince charming and eyes somehow sparkling in the low light. you have to kiss him. you peck his jaw in admiration and he shoots you a puzzled but sweet smile. 

your arm is tucked snuggly in your boyfriend’s as you talk to a guy from one of your classes. spencer knows your crowd, so you don't feel too bad when you leave him to go help the host, your friend vanessa, in the kitchen. she's mixing drinks when you get to her.

“good turn out huh?” she says, handing you a bottle to open.

“oh yeah, ness, definitely. one of my favourites so far, too,” you commend, unscrewing the top and giving it back to her.

she pours the contents into a pitcher, “thanks.” 

“but you know… what could make it better…” your tone nothing short of subtle, your eyes glinting with persuasion.

she lets out a huff. “you spend an hour without normal music and you're suffering,” she teases you all while expertly pouring margaritas into red cups.

“hey! i love your-” you pause, trying to find the right words, “nondescript jazz but.. i love sabrina carpenter a bit more.” 

you throw her your best puppy dog eyes and she concedes. “fine. my phone is on the table. you can play whatever you want if,” she bargains, holding out a tray of drinks, “you take these.” you squeal and accept her offer.

“you're a darling,” you call out from over your shoulder as you walk away.

“uh-huh,” she says sarcastically, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “don't spill!”

you put the tray down on the coffee table upon your return, grabbing vanessa's phone before settling next to spencer, who is now on the couch. the guy from your class is gone. you frantically scroll through the playlist, adding things to the queue. spencer puts his arm over your shoulders as he peers over at the screen. he's used to your antics, so he doesnt question the fact that it isn't even your phone, humming in approval when you add a song that he likes. the music starts playing at a comfortable volume from the speakers and you lean into spencer's side, quietly murmuring along, “all i can do is try, give me one chance…”

at some point, a makeshift dance floor forms. clusters of people belting the lyrics, and swaying to the rhythm. you join them, always down for an impromptu dance sesh–or at least that's what the cup in your hand suggests. spencer watches you intently from the couch, eyebrows raised in amusement as you wave your hands around expressively with the words. he loves when you sing. his eyes trace the way your skirt hugs your hips, and how your hips, in turn, move in sync with the beat. he’s mesmerised by you. 

a few songs in, a sheen of sweat glistens on your skin. there’s no doubt you’re a dancing drunk. as if on cue—well, it was—'juno' starts playing, and you scan the room for spencer. you spot him in the corner, serving food onto his plate.

you rush over to him, recalling how he validated the song choice earlier. you’d played it to him for the first time a few weeks ago and he went on to explain how in roman mythology, juno is the queen of the gods and the goddess of marriage and children, similar to hera in greek mythology, and consequently, you told him about the 2007 film ‘juno’ and promised you'd introduce him to the world of michael cera, and that his life will forever be changed, when he said he hadn't seen it.

“mmph what?” he grumbles, a mouthful of egg roll muffling his words, as you pull him by the arm. you take the plate from his hand, putting it down on the coffee table and leading him into the crowd. 

you hold onto both his hands and move them between you two as you sing. 

“give it to me baby, you make me wanna make you fall in love.”

he smiles, trying to follow your movements and failing. you giggle at his attempts. 

“can't help myself hormones are high.”

you turn around and wrap his arms around your waist, your back to his chest. you try to lead him this way and he seems to catch on, moving his hips with you, it's a little stiff but it's a happy medium.

“oh late at night i’m thinkin’ ‘bout you, ah. wanna try out some freaky positions?” 

you aren't trying to drive him crazy, but the alcohol is. “have you ever tried this one?” you glance behind at him when you say this, pushing your ass back against his crotch, the feeling not lost between the layers of fabric.

you feel him tense behind you, but you don’t think much of it, assuming he felt awkward about dancing in front of people. you spin around in his arms, smiling happily, with not a hint of malice in your eyes. you’re not even teasing him—just giving in to an incorrigible need to perform, fucking theatre kids. 

he tries to play it cool but then the bridge arrives, and god save him.

“adore me,” you guide his hands to your hips. “hold me and explore me,” you lead them slowly up your body, gliding over your ribs, “mark your territory,” you press his hands firmly into your sides. you let go and loop your hands around his neck, rolling your shoulders, “tell me i'm the only, only, only, only one.”

you trail your hands down his chest as the verse repeats. you go lower till you drop to your knees in front of him, and he thinks he might die. 

“i’m so fucking horny,” no youre not, “tell me i'm the only, only, only, only one,” you are, everything.

you spring back up on your feet and start jumping, guiding him to dance with you or something to that degree. frankly, he's disoriented, your mood gone as quick as it arrived, as he tries to keep up. when, in fact, everything you just did went straight between his legs. a nervous flush spreads across his face as he feels the growing tightness in his pants, and you, oblivious to the effect you had on him–but only because you were drunk you swear– nudge his nose with yours in an attempt to calm him down. he gives you a tight lipped smile, classic spencer, and excuses himself to the bathroom, to splash water on his face or to jerk off, he doesn't know.

the party comes to a screeching halt an hour later when someone throws up on vanessa's couch and she kicks everyone out, swearing that she's never hosting at her place ever again.

you're a giggling fit as you walk down the, fairly empty, street. spencer follows close behind, a small smile playing on his face as he watches you spin. his coat hangs loosely on your shoulders–his coat and not yours because you insisted you wouldn't need one, but when the breeze hit your legs, you were sorely mistaken. he catches up with you and laces your hands together, your head lands on his shoulder now that you're all tuckered out.

after a quick subway ride the two of you make it to his apartment, having previously agreed that you'd spend the night there since you don't have any classes tomorrow. he slowly leads a tipsy you up the stairs and unlocks his door, letting you in. 

you let his coat drop to the floor as he leads you to his room, he sits you at the edge of the bed before crouching down to unzip your boots and take them off. he pulls at the waistband of your skirt, asking.

“spencer walter reid, are you trying to get in my pants?” you ask quietly, the tiredness in your voice evident as you try to tease him.

“yes,” he says with a mock seriousness that makes you laugh a little. “lift your hips angel.”

you oblige and he pulls your skirt and tights off in one go, stretching comically as the long piece of fabric peels away, in a way that only his long limbs would allow. he leans down and kisses up your shin to your knee, doing the same to your other leg, murmuring a “perfect girl,” into your skin before standing up. he makes you blush, always does. 

he walks over to his dresser to grab the pair of pyjamas you left at his place the last time you were over. he comes back with your shorts, but instead of the matching piece, he’s holding one of his t-shirts. 

“arms up please” he requests and you do, he slips your top off and offers you his hand so you can stand. 

you feel a little exposed, clad in only your bra and underwear, though he's seen you in less on multiple occasions. he bends to help you put on the bottoms. “i can dress myself, y'know?” you say, in spite of the fact that you're holding onto his shoulders as you step into the shorts. he only hums as he slides them up, tying the strings into a bow. he reaches behind you to undo the clasp, letting your bra fall. he shamelessly looks at your tits before he puts the shirt on. you shake your head minutely, amused. 

“come on,” he nudges you toward the bathroom.

you lazily brush your teeth, take your makeup off and flop onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, sinking into the pillows behind you. pillows that have accumulated over time since you started dating spencer, you had insisted a pile was the way to go and he indulged you even though most would end up on the floor in the morning–it's decorative, spence, and comfortable. 

you see spencer changing in your peripheral and sit up. you ogle him as he unbuttons his shirt. he smirks when he notices your eyes on him.

“you enjoying the show?” he probes, eyes squinting slightly.

you bite your lip coyly and nod. “mhm, very much.” you throw your duvet off lightly and step out of bed, crossing over to him. “let me help?” you ask quietly.

he lets go of his shirt and raises his palms up in surrender, letting you do it.

“i mean it's only fair, i showed you mine so you should show me yours,” you say, trailing a finger down his chest to continue unbuttoning. 

his hands find your waist and pull you closer. “oh, is that how it is?”

“afraid so, doctor reid,” you say with a shrug, sneaking your hands under the fabric to push the shirt off his shoulders. you reach down and make work on his belt buckle, trying to fight back a smile because he just makes you so… 

you slide his belt off and unbutton his pants, and sure, you can let him do the rest but what's the fun in that. so for the second time that night you get on your knees, and it hits spencer like a freight train. his breath catches as you pull his pants down. you’re about to get up when you're brought face to face with the very noticeable bulge in his underwear and you freeze.

“spencer,” he pulls you up, a little embarrassed. “you're hard,” you state, looking up at him with a crease in your eyebrow that formed in confusion.

he only sighs in response.

“please tell me that this,” you wave your hand over the clothes that were now on the floor, “didn't get you going.” 

“oh, angel no,” he lets out a low chuckle. “it’s from earlier.”

“earlier?”

“yeah uhm juno…” he says shyly.

you frown “jun- oh.”

“yup”

“oh god. oh god. spence, that's so much worse,” you deflate in realisation.

“why's that worse?”

“that was hours ago,” you say morosely, your frown returning in full force.

he laughs at your concern. “hey, i was fine, i'm a big boy,” he lies through his teeth. he wasn't fine. his trip to the bathroom lasted 15 minutes and consisted of him sitting on the closed toilet to calm down and ended when someone started banging the door for him to come out.  

you pout, feeling bad. “you should've told me.”

“yeah and then what? you would've let me take you over the coffee table,” he reasons but it only makes you flush.

“no, but we could’ve left early.” 

“yeah maybe.”

your head snaps up to meet his, eyes glinting with hope. “i could make it up to you?”

his face softens, “you don't have to do that.”

“yes i do, i want to,” you lay a hand on his cheek and he leans into it.

“you’re tired,” he argues, not wanting to give in, and kisses your wrist.

“no, i'm not,” he looks at you sceptically, “i'm not. i'm actually extremely awake right now,” you defend. “and what's that thing you said? orgasms release oxytocin” you punctuate this by tiptoeing to kiss his jaw, “and uhm.. prolactin,” another but this time on his chin, “and endorphins” on the corner of his mouth, “and, oh, serotonin.” you end with a fleeting kiss on his lips and he smiles against them, gotcha. “all which promote levels of drowsiness and relaxation-” you quote, in a very poor impression of him, making him chuckle and pull you in for another kiss, promptly cutting you off. 

his hands at your waist tug you closer, bringing your hips flush together. the action causes a little bit of friction to his erection and he whimpers into your mouth. you trail your hand down and palm him. he pushes forward into your hand.

“so needy,” you chide, leaning your head back to look at him.

“don't tease,” he whines.

god you love it when he whines, and that's very apparent by the dampness you feel between your legs. “‘m sorry, baby,” you say lightly, leading him back to the bed.

you lay back on the pillows and part your legs so he can settle between them. “come here,” you whisper and he leans forward. you cup his face with your hands and close the distance between your faces. he kisses you back so profoundly, it knocks the wind out of you. you gently bite his bottom lip and the gasp he lets out, allows you to slip your tongue into his mouth.

you feel his hand snake up your shirt, fingers grazing over your ribs, pressing firmly into your sides and you realise, he's mirroring what you did with his hands at the party. his thumb passes over your nipple, barely. you arch your back in response, wanting more.

“so needy,” he repeats.

“shut up,” you mumble, pulling him closer.

he lets out a huff and takes this as his sign to grind his hips into yours. you hum at the feeling, grabbing at his shoulders to keep going but he stops and you whine. 

“you just have too much on, sweet girl,” he apologises, lifting the hem of your–his–shirt. he quickly sheds it and your shorts before returning to his previous position. now both of you are left in your underwear, and you think it's sweet, you don't know why. he resumes his motions, the friction now heightened with one less piece of fabric. 

you're breathless as his lips latch onto your neck, peppering small kisses down the side, pausing briefly to suck a mark into your skin and then moving lower. your collarbone, sternum, down the valley of your breasts. he hooks an arm under you to hold you close while his lips move to your nipple, taking the right one into his mouth and sucking. he softly pinches it between his teeth and you keen, tangling your hand in his hair. he experimentally bites down harder and your grip on his strands tightens, causing him to groan against your chest. he moves over to the neglected one and repeats, making sure you're well attended to. he stays like that till you're squirming.

he starts kissing lower, over your stomach. he hooks a finger in your underwear, you put your hand over his. “i'm supposed to be taking care of you,” you whisper, the moment so intimate you're afraid to speak any louder.

“believe me, you are,” he says, matching your volume, pulling the fabric down and off your legs.

“spencer,” you drag out.

he lays down between your thighs and presses a kiss to the flesh there. “let me do this, please. wanna get you ready.” he implores, eyes big and pleading as they meet yours. when he looks like that, how do you say no. you chew your lip as you pretend to mull it over and he grows impatient, prodding at your thigh. you smile at his fidgeting and give him a curt nod–okay, if you insist.

he dives in without missing a beat, licking a long stripe between your folds. your hips writhe instinctively so he threads an arm under your thigh and over your abdomen to hold you down. 

“oh fuck,” you gasp as his lips attach to you clit, sucking profusely. your hand finds his hair again, in need of something to hold onto, and he doesn't mind the pulling seeing as he starts to dry hump the mattress.

his free hand moves to join his mouth, fingers circling and poking at your entrance. he hums out a question to which you nod feverishly, “yes, please.” 

he inserts both fingers at once, the sudden stretch causing you to jolt, a pained moan slipping out. he pulls away, fingers still inside. 

“okay?” he asks gently, though he knows the answer.

“mhm, spencer keep going,” you breathe out, raising your hips up to make him move.

he raises his eyebrows expectantly. “please,” you add, the desperation laced in your voice not lost on you.

he smiles, pleased, “anything for you angel.”

spencer eats you out like a man starved, greedily, and that paired with his fingers–you're done for. he curls his fingers, dragging out slowly and you clench around him, moaning.

“right there huh?” he coos.

he doesn't need reassurance, knowing your body like the back of his hand but you let out a quiet “yes” in response regardless.

he’s relentless in his pace, pumping his fingers and licking over your clit incessantly. you feel it, the coil tightening in your lower abdomen. you tug his hair in warning and he hums against you, the vibration making you shiver. he speeds up, replacing his tongue with his thumb. you buck up, meeting his thrusts

“there you go, fuck yourself on my fingers. so good for me, fuck.” he mutters out praises as he hovers over you again, his lewdness makes you whine. it always throws you off when spencer swears, much less when he talks like that, but you're not complaining.

“spence-”

“you gonna cum for me? cum all over my fingers?” he says against your cheek, dotting your face with delicate pecks. the gentleness of the action compared to what he was doing to you made you dizzy.

you babble out an incoherent confirmation as you grasp at his shoulder, no doubt leaving behind crescent shaped indents. he mouths at your neck and encourages you. “i’m right here. you're doing so good, let go angel.”

You fall apart with a broken sob, back arching off the bed. his hand chases the movements of your hips while you hold him tightly. his hand slows as he feels you calm down. he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, humming contentedly at the taste. You quickly pull them out, your nose scrunched.

“i hate when you do that,” you whisper, a little dazy.

“no, you don't,” he says with a smile, dipping down to kiss you. “you good?”

you can taste yourself on his lips, “yeah,” you reply bashfully. 

“think you can handle another?” 

you nod and you watch as he takes his boxers off. he situates himself between your legs, parting them a bit more before he drags his tip between your folds a few times. you whimper at the stimulation. his eyebrows furrow in thought.

“you wanna try something?”

“yeah? what'd you have in mind?”

“could you turn around and get on your knees?” he asks tentatively, eye darting between yours for any traces of discomfort.

there is none, just a hint of confusion as you position yourself the way he wants. he comes up behind you and guides your hips back to meet his. with one hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer so your back is flush to his chest. he kisses your shoulder, trailing up to your neck. he nibbles your earlobe and leans in.

“have you ever tried this one?” he says quietly, attempting to be serious but the smile on his face betrays him.

you groan, “ugh, you're so corny,” you cover your face with your hand, using the other one to slap his thigh. he laughs, a short breathy chuckle that you feel at the back of your neck. you lean your head back on his shoulder, “just fuck me.”

he huffs, something between a laugh and a groan. he pushes into you slowly and you moan in unison. you're quick to loop your hand behind his head as he builds a steady pace. the angle is excruciating, hitting your g spot with every draw back of his hips. you clench around him and he sighs into your neck, biting lightly. you grab one of his hands at your side and wrap it around you. your head turns toward his, pressing your cheek into his nose. it isn't enough. 

“baby,” you gasp at a particularly hard thrust of his.

he knows. “i know. i know. need to see you,” his voice is hoarse as he turns you around and lays you on your back.

he wastes no time in entering you again, burying his face in your neck as he does so. its slow and deep and you can feel all of him.

“fuck, angel. you feel so good,” he whimpers, speeding up.

“yeah? you feel amazing in me, beautiful boy.”

the sentiment makes him whine whorishly, beautiful boy. you caress the back of his neck as he ruts into you. he pulls his head up and lays his forehead on yours, gasping quietly. you stick your chin up and he kisses you, soft and messy and breathless, as the two of you steal eachother’s oxygen. you break away and glance down at where your bodies meet, his eyes follow yours.

“look at you, taking me so perfectly,” his praises go straight to your core, driving you closer. he can tell by the way your walls flutter, he trails his hand down and rubs your clit in tight circles. your nonsensical sobs of please and so close are heard by him as he drives into you deeper and harder. “me too, angel girl. i've got you, wanna feel you come on my cock,” he nudges you, words strained as he chases his own release.

your second orgasm crashes into you and like dominoes, his one follows. he comes in you with a shuddering cry. the aftershocks leave you twitching as spencer lazily fucks into you, selfishly. you squirm at the overstimulation and he stills his hips.

“good girl, you did so well for me,” he coos, pushing a piece of hair out of your face. your hum of appreciation turns into a sound of protest as he tries to move.

“wait, stay like this a bit…” you trail off, pulling him onto you, keeping him in you.

he indulges you for a while, he'll get up in a minute, knowing if he doesn't you'll complain about the stickiness and blame him. for now though, he tucks both his arms under you and nestles his head on your chest. he feels you laugh under him and he sticks his head up, expression on his face quizzical.

“i didn't think that me dancing would get you going so much,” you tease, though your eyes are filled with something akin to awe as you look at him.

he laughs too, “oh you have no idea.”

m.list

[icemankazansky]

A Simple Guide to Not Being Afraid to Write Comments to Fic You Read

I've seen a lot of posts about the current state of fanfiction comments. Writers, especially writers who have been in fandom for a decade or more, are frustrated by the lack of comments, and have noticed a definite decline in comments (and all other forms of reader interaction) in the past ten years or so. Many readers feel daunted by the expectation of leaving comments, afraid they'll do something wrong. As a fandom old maid, the latter confused me for a while, until I realized that most of the people who feel that way probably have not been taught this form of communication.

But your loving fandom elders are here for you. Come along as your auntie tumblr user icemankazansky makes this shit easy.

The easiest way to think of fanfiction comment etiquette is to compare it to something you likely already know: Gift Receiving Etiquette.

Fanfiction began as largely a gift economy. And a lot of it still is! You'll see authors participate in exchanges like Yuletide and Id Pro Quo; those are ficswaps in which authors write for a specific person to specific prompts. And even outside that, fanfiction is not written for money; authors write and post it simply for the joy of creation and community with fellow fans. Fic is posted free for anyone to enjoy. Is that not a gift?

So. When you as a reader finish the chapter or story you're reading and you are faced with the comment box, try to follow the same etiquette you would when receiving a gift. (And even if you didn't love this gift and it's not your favorite gift ever, we already know that it's more useful than the products from your cousin's MLM that they're passing off as gifts, because you read the story. At the very least, it entertained you for the time you took to read it.)

The big rule of gift receiving etiquette is not to insult the person who gave you the gift, either directly or indirectly. That's it. Full stop.

I've been seeing a lot of comments lately that are just along the lines of, "Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us." A+, top of the class, full marks, you're doing amazing. If you don't feel comfortable commenting on the story itself, that is perfect feedback. And that's the most basic way you respond to a gift, yes? Thank you for the gift. Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for sharing.

Does this rule mean that you cannot say anything at all that might be negative about anything? No, absolutely not. What you want to avoid is saying something that is, at its core, a negative evaluation of the author or their work. Let's do some examples.

Character A's obliviousness about Character B's MASSIVE crush on them made me so frustrated! I was tearing my hair out internally screaming, "JUST LET HIM LOVE YOU."

✔️ Excellent comment! You're allowed to have all sorts of feelings about things that happen in the story, and in fact authors LOVE to hear about any emotions they made you feel. Yes, frustration is not a positive emotion, but the thing you are expressing frustration about is not the author themselves or their shortcomings.

Contrast that to:

I was really frustrated that it took you so long to post this chapter. The cliffhanger at the end of the previous chapter had me tearing my hair out, and then you just left us hanging FOREVER!

❌ Nope! Here what you are expressing is frustration with the author and how fast they come out with new chapters. Imagine your sister buys you a gift for your birthday, but she isn't able to give it to you until the next week, and you respond with: "What took you so long?" I think Emily Post would frown on that.

Reframing

The way you say something and the point of view from which you give feedback can have a HUGE impact on the message you're sending. Let's take the last comment (the one about wanting an update) and see what happens when we reframe the same sentiment as a positive:

I was SO EXCITED to see that you updated this story! I have really been looking forward to seeing what happened after the cliffhanger in the last chapter.

✔️ Now it's not an insult. The author will be happy to know that you are happy to see new work from them.

This idea extends beyond the story itself: to the fandom, the characters, the pairing, the tropes, etc. Let's do some examples.

I looooove reading about these sexy boys SO IN LOVE even though the movie you're writing about is SOOOOO problematic.

❌ Nope! Assume that the author enjoys the canon, characters, pairing, etc. in the stories they write. This comment is insulting to the author because it basically says, "That thing you love is not great, and you should probably feel bad for liking it." Imagine your aunt gifts you a sweater from a popular retailer, and you respond with, "This is so cute, I love it! It's a shame that it was made in a sweatshop." Do you have a valid point about the canon or the retailer's business practices? You very well might. Is this the proper time and place to talk about it? Absolutely not.

Let's do a reframing exercise. You should be very careful about how you approach commenting negatively on anything in the story that appears in the tags list, but you can make it a compliment and good feedback if you have the right perspective. See the difference with these two approaches:

I kind of think frottage is disgusting, but I liked it in this story.

❌ Nope! You just told the author you think their kink is disgusting. That's like telling your poor aunt who is just trying to keep you warm this winter that she has awful taste in knitwear. Try again.

Frottage normally isn't my kink, but I love your other stories with this pairing, so I decided to give it a try, and I'm SOOOOO GLAD that I did! This story was 🔥🔥🔥

✔️ "This normally isn't my thing, but you made me expand my horizons!" Authors love to hear that. That's like telling your aunt, "I never thought this color looked good on me, but I look so cute in this sweater! I'm so glad you helped me step outside my comfort zone, because I'm the better for it."

thank u, next

The last thing I want to address is this new trend I've seen in commenting lately: placing an order. If your mom surprises you with new headphones, you don't respond with, "I wanted the white ones 🙁," or, "You should get me a new phone, too." It's easy to see why that isn't appropriate in a gifting situation, and it's also not appropriate when commenting on fanfiction.

Let's do some examples:

This fic was soooo cute, but it would have been a million times better if Character A had been with Character C instead of Character B.

❌ There are a few things going on here. Number one, you're telling your mom you wanted the white headphones, not the ones she actually bought you. You're also disparaging the A/B pairing that the author chose to write about, and as we discussed, we can assume that the author wrote the pairing because they liked it. Even if it's not their favorite and/or they also write A/C, they made a choice for this story to be A/B, and the comments section of a fic is not the place to question choices the author made in their own work.

You should write a story where Character Z who is not even in this story does [thing that is vaguely referenced in the B plot].

❌ "You should get me a new phone, too."

I want a sequel. 😞

❌ "Thank you, next!"

You can reframe this kind of sentiment if you are careful about it, and it's not all you say.

I really loved this story. I would be so interested to see these ideas explored further if you ever decide to write more in this universe.

✔️ Not "gimme." Not "more." This is, "If you build it, I will come." It is a HUGE difference.

You already know how to do this. You know how to graciously accept a gift; just use that same etiquette, and boom! Now you know how to fearlessly write a comment to fic you read. You're doing amazing. Go forth and comment.

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 5:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Sorry for the long weight everyone! I had to binge allll of Stranger Things for a friend's future birthday event and ohhh wow I thought the episodes were gonna be 20 minutes not 40-1hr

Also I suffered a bit of writers block, it happens

But regardless, I hope you all enjoy! ^ ^

(also the taglist has migrated to the bottom of the fic because it's a bit too long now)

----

The office was large, sprawling walls contained by an even bigger ceiling. The faint humming of Tim’s computer provided no reassurance, nor did the soft leather of your seat. It felt as if you could sink right into it, and try to fade away. There was a faint aroma of coffee that lingered around the office, but it gave you no solace. It just reminded you of the mistakes you made, to end up here. The elephant in the room.

Tim’s smile was bright, a warm sun. You were burning.

“It’s.. nice to see you again.” You attempted, words stumbling about on your tongue. You couldn't help it, the mere presence of your soulmate sending anxiety skyrocketing down your spine. Why couldn't he just get to the point?

“I didn't really expect my company and Wayne Enterprises to be working together.” You continued, a fake smile plastered onto your face. “What a nice coincidence!”

“I hope for us to have a successful collaboration.” Tim replies, still smiling. “But enough about the companies, it's been so long since I've seen you, and I didn't have your number to text.”

You laugh in response, a pale imitation of a real laugh. You had hoped to focus on discussing the work you both had to do first, and then escape before any catch up talks were attempted. Unfortunately, it appears that Tim won't let you do any actual work before engaging with him.

Your nails dug into your knees, an attempt to stay calm. Your reply was measured.

“Oh are you sure? Surely it would be better to get work on the collaboration done first, then we’ll have all the time left to chat freely.”

“I wouldn't worry about that, really. We’ve got plenty of time together, and I wouldn't be able to work without knowing how you're doing lately. Since you didn't have the time to text, I presume you've been busy?”

“Ah, right! Yes! Yes I have been, busy that is, you know how it is with work. Endless and all that.” You were frustrated at being pushed into a lie already. Tim was in charge here and he knew it.

“Why don't you give me your number then?” His smile was perfect, as flawless as his manipulation. “That way, when you're too busy to remember to message, I can remind you.”

You frowned. Like he didn't know your number already.

Quickly remembering you had to smile, you gave him your number, watching as he slowly typed it in, then texted. Only when you showed you received his text did he relent.

The ‘meeting’ continued on from there, Tim asking about all your hobbies and passions. Time ticked on, daylight turning to evening. Any attempt from you to redirect the conversation to either himself or work was swiftly dismissed. A small part of you admired his skill, he was playing you like a doll. You knew it, but you had no option but to play along. It was like an older sibling playing pretend with the young sibling. You hated the comparison.

The attention was unnerving. Your only solace was that neither of you had soul animals present currently, which was an absolute miracle.

Actually… what if that isn't a coincidence at all? Could this too have been engineered? Was that even possible?

“So then what’s your opinion on..” The sound of Tim’s voice slammed you back to reality. You quickly focused back in, fearing losing any advantage due to a lack of attention.

Abruptly, an alarm sounded, the noise blazing a path through your eardrums. You jolted in surprise. Tim however, was barely rattled. A frown appeared on his face as he glanced at his phone.

“That was the Arkham Asylum breakout alarm. It's no longer safe to go outside.” With these words Tim got up, walking over to the door and opening it.

“What…?” You mumbled, horrified.

“Stay here.” He commanded, a firm tone in his voice. This was Red Robin. “I’m going to check on the building, don't leave, it isn't safe.”

“Wait! But.. the collaboration.. we didn't..” The words rushed out of your mouth, leaving you feeling like a fool as Tim paused for a moment, to look at you.

“Don't worry.” He smiled, the weight of it bearing down upon you. You felt small. “You can just come in tomorrow, I'm sure your company won't mind.” With the final word said, Tim closed the door, presumably rushing off to become Red Robin. The click of the door felt like a dismissal, a scolding. A reminder to stay in your place.

Once again, you were trapped.

You clenched your fists. He wanted you to stay here, in his territory. You didn't doubt that Wayne Enterprises had amazing security, probably some of the best considering the identities of the owners. This was likely the third most safe place in Gotham, with the first and second places going to Batman’s base and Wayne Manor.

But… you haven't learned anything yet. All that time spent with him and somehow he hadn't brought up that singular, obvious fact. There was no way he didn't know, not with the way he was acting. And yet, he hadn't brought it up. Why?

What was he getting out of this?

Was he hoping that if you assumed he didn't know then you could easily be monitored? Was he just gathering information before acting? Where was the rest of the vigilantes in this?

Your head was spinning, going in circles. You couldn't understand him, you couldn't understand any of them. Why choose to be vigilantes, knowing the costs that life endures? Why were you tied to them, when you were so against a fundamental part of their existence?

You couldn't understand this at all. How could this be the basis of a soulmate bond?

You were… opposites.

You felt the telltale beat of an oncoming headache. For your own sanity, you decided to fold the incoming soulmate crisis into a small cavity of your brain to panic about later.

Fact One: There was an ongoing Arkham Asylum breakout, everyone is either being attacked, hiding away or escaping the city.

Fact Two: Batman and all his partners are going to be occupied for at least several hours if not a day.

Fact Three: You were going to take advantage of this.

It was the perfect time. All your soulmates were occupied, so none of them would be able to pay any attention to you. Red Robin might know your identity, and so the other vigilantes may know as well.

That didn't need to matter. They may have the information, but information itself is useless, if they are unable to act.

Right now, any Gothamite that isn't involved with rogues is either hiding or escaping. You could join the escapes, and get out of Gotham in the rush.

You didn't have to stay here, to play the role of a caged bird. You could escape, before they even got a chance.

You had to try.

You suppressed a shaky sigh, getting up and walking to the door. You tried the door handle.

Locked.

Uh oh. You tried it again, and then a few more times after that, shaking the door eventually in your desperation. Oh come on! You desperately thought to yourself. The one time you finally got the perfect chance and it's being ruined by a locked door.

Wait. You glanced at the small window in the door, the beginnings of an idea sprouting in your head. You glance over at Tim’s desk, noticing a small paper weight. You smile.

Lifting the paperweight, you judge the weight to be enough. Holding it up, you get into position to throw.

Wait.. the door has a keyhole, not a sliding chain, you realize, almost too late.

Ah.

Well that would have been embarrassing.

Sadly, you place the paperweight back down. There goes that idea.

But that wasn't the only door in the office, there was another one, the one that the shouting voice left out of. You approach the door, trying the doorknob.

Click!

It opens! Giving a small laugh, you advance through the door and out into the halls of Wayne Enterprises, a jubilant smile on your face. Whoever was shouting at Tim earlier, you almost wanted to thank them.

You avoid the elevators, instead picking stairs, as you presumed they may also be in lockdown. It didn't take you too long to get down to the ground floor, since the main walking areas were now barren of people.

The ground floor had some unfortunate news to offer you though. The once wildly open doors had now been locked down and barred, an iron wall between you and freedom.

Although, maybe there was some other way, you thought, eyeing the anxious security guards patrolling the front entrance.

Pulling out of your hiding spot, you approach the guards, making to time your steps, making noise to not scare them. You really didn't want to get shot before you had even left the safety of the building.

“P-please help me!” You stuttered, trembling with tears in your eyes. The guards jolted in surprise, turning to face you. They were expecting threats from the outside, not the inside.

“I need to get home, I can't stay here.” You sobbed, the guards pausing in confusion. They didn't know what to do with you.

“What’s wrong?” A sympathetic guard asked, patting you gently on the back. You almost felt bad.

“I need to go home!” You repeated, tone frantic.

A disgruntled guard stepped up to you. “Look, no one can leave right now. Company policy. It isn't safe, there's been an Arkham breakout. Just sit tight, and whatever’s waiting for you at home will be there when you get back.”

“N-no…” You mumbled. “You don't understand.. I have.. I have a cat, waiting for me.” You glance up, watching the expressions on their faces. They seem unmoved. “A-and my child!” You cry out, realizing you needed a better lie.

“A child?” The disgruntled guard repeated, sounding a little more sympathetic, but clearly not convinced. He eyed you up and down, evidentially thinking you looked a little too young.

“They're so little, but my cat likes to take care of them and I needed the money so, so I left them at home alone today. But recently they're been figuring out how to open doors and if anything happened to them I don't know what I’d d-” Your frantic lie is cut off, the disgruntled guard laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright listen. None of us can escort you, we're here on the job.”

You nodded, feeling exuberation rush through you.

“But if anything happened, run right back here, alright?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile on your face. The guards unlocked the doors, watching you dash out with frowns on their tired faces.

They were obvious to the beaming smirk on yours.

Nights in Gotham are by nature a little terrifying, but they're nothing compared to an Arkham breakout night. Shadows crawled up alleyways, the smell of booze and smoke lingering in a way it never could on normal nights. The terror was so pungent in the air, you could almost taste it. It was on the tip of your tongue.

Every so often you'd hear a scream, and you'd walk a little faster. Ideally you would have committed to the stealth route, but you had wasted enough time already.

Your house was on the way to the bus station, so you could easily pop in, grab essentials, and get out. You wouldn't lie, you were nervous. Every so often you’d feel your knees lose strength, and you'd have to fight with your body to regain the strength to stand.

But at this point it was either the horror of whatever your soulmates had in store for you, or the horrors of Arkham night. You'd already picked your poison, now it was time to swallow.

You took a breath in, then out, and continued walking. You were almost there.

The streets of Gotham stretched on endlessly, a cacophony of fear.

Just a bit longer.

A gunshot sounded nearby, the noise blasting through your eardrum.

Almost there.

The hum of a van's engine rushed through the night, haunting laughter echoing through the road.

You could see your house!

You beamed, a smile lighting up your face, as you practically skipped up to the entrance. You reached into your bag to withdraw your keys.

You had just retrieved them when a crowbar smashed into your head.

----

Wow umh, please pray for reader guys, this is NOT going well for them. Who do you think that was?

Me writing shenanigans for this chapter:

I just really feel like reader should smash open this window, let's do it. Wait. They wouldn't have doors that work like that. so reader sadly puts the heavy object down :(

Also me: yeah so reader lies here and it's an absolute mess

Also also me: rip reader that's a lotta head trauma omg

Sorry for the lack of soul animals this chapter :(( there's a reason I swear

The next chapter is definitely gonna be a bit insane, for sure! The soul animals return then anddd in droves!

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger @sociallyakwardpanda

@imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu

If I missed anyone out im super sorry! I generally check the replies for the current chapter and messages for people that want to be tagged, so it's possible for people to slip by

Just remind me again and I'll be sure to add you! (This also goes for if I misspell you accidentally, which also happens cuz I type them all manually)

For some reason I couldnt tag anymore people until I put a random space in-between the tags, so that's apparently a thing. If anyone has any ideas why, I'm listening

[mrs-weasley-reid]

JULY REC FICS

Hello, my sweets!! I wanted to try something out to provide my full and utter support to all the amazing writers I've come across in the form of monthly rec fics (starting this month). Join me in giving them love through comments and reblogs. It really is a joy to hear how you're doing as a writer. It makes up for all the angst we write lol

I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. And the number of fics will depend on how much I've read the entire month. Also, please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+, so MINORS should not be interacting in any way, especially when the authors themselves specify it.

— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer Reid

✿ a question unasked by @easy-there-leftovers ↳ SOOOO ADORABLE. I'm a workaholic craze gal, so it speaks to me on a silly level.

✿ missing the happy hormone by @lavenderspence ↳ I'm a sucker for Spencer fluff this month, what can I say? This fic Tina made had my waterworks going on for about a minute because it's so sweet

✿ desk duty by @reiderwriter ↳ All you have to know is the amount of evil laugh I made while reading this

✿ the theory of love by @ophelia-is-complex ↳ Genuine intimacy is quite a challenge to write, but THIS ONE, this one had me in a sappy mood

✿ like nothing matters by @cerisereids ↳ gagged and had to pause the reading so many times because HELLO— had me spiraling at work

✿ the devils disguise by @qlossytbh ↳ I said I sobbed a little bit, but I actually cried so much I ended up taking a nap and felt better afterward. It's all fluff, though, don't get me wrong. I'm just very dramatic when the red devil's on the clock

✿ not so funny by @reidmania ↳ Angsty, that made me wanna start a fight with some random twiggy tall guy. Sooooo good!

✿ cloaked in passions touch by @raekensluver ↳ If you don't like Spencer's hands, you're fucking lying to yourself!!!!!

✿ language of devotion by @gghostwriter ↳ I'm in love with reid, and this fic just had me stumbling back onto his lap like a good gal

✿ this req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ Sorry, I'm not sure what the title is, but it's so adorable and got me to go to work, so kind of a lifesaver tbh

✿ hallucinate by @gghostwriter ↳ Oooo, this one was so cute, hehe. Honestly, I lean towards Spencer fluff lately just because I've been too overstimulated with work this past month, so READ THIS ONE ITS CUTE

✿ it's golden, like daylight by @dudeitiskarev ↳ I actually felt like I was reader the entire time I read this. It's well-written and so adorable and something that should be framed in a museum

✿ much ado about nothing series by @incognit0slut ↳ binged it all morning, and I was whipped !!! It's ongoing, so if I have to wait, so does everybody else

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron Hotchner

✦ choiceless hope series by @hotchfiles ↳ This series had me rolling over my bed on a Saturday. A lot of feelings getting played (mostly mine)

✦ beanstalk by @solardrop ↳ I kid you not; I was giggling like a weirdo when I read it. And that itself deserves the recommendation.

✦ too busy being yours by @hotchfiles ↳ Lari knows how to get a sick gal to giggle. I love bau!rossi!reader. I love Rossi as reader's dad, so I enjoyed it more than I thought I would

✦ ignorance by infatuation by @boneblushed ↳ Oh, this one was a nice snack while on my break at work. LOVED IT SO MUCH

✦ hungover by @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi ↳ Mmmm, such a good read! Plus Jemily is there sooooo

✦ from across the bar by @hotchscoffeecup ↳ Evil laugh ensues. A nice cuppa of some good ole kinky stuff

✦ doomed by @hotchfiles ↳ guys, I stopped my car in the middle of driving home just to read it, so it's THAT good. Honestly, I strongly encourage everyone to read all of Lari's works! She's my writer crush, if none of you realized it by now

✦ a bunch of cuties in love by @lavenderspence ↳ hehehehehehe this definitely did not remind me of that one older guy I used to flirt with who had an adorable younger brother that I babysat🤭

✦ schrodinger's cat by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ angst on a Saturday morning is like taking a shot of soju before 11 am, and this one felt like it <3

how about you also comment your top 3 fave fics for this month to spread more love to our great writers?

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

My absolute favorite comments to get as a fic writer are the ones that are like "hey this porn you wrote is hot."

Because it is so hard to write good sex scenes. You're constantly wondering "is this actually hot or will it sound insane/cringey?" You're trying to hit emotional beats while not taking away from the sexiness. You're trying to make sure actions are clear and nothing gets all muddled and confusing for the reader. It requires you to really think about how the characters are going to react to everything that happens, so on top of making sure it's actually hot, you have to worry about if it's in-character for everyone involved. It's so much easier to write sex scenes that are bad on purpose than sex scenes that are actually good and meant to be hot.

So, yeah, I assure you, because the most common thing I hear people saying when they leave a comment about the sex scenes I write is "I hope it's not weird to comment on this scene," it's not weird at all and I appreciate it so much! I am literally never going to be mad at someone leaving a row of 🔥 emojis in their comment, I promise. If you're reading a fic and you think the sex scenes are well done, let the author know! That's likely one of the parts they're a bit nervous about working well so it'll mean so much to know you thought it was good.

[karlachismylife]

Writing Russian-speaking characters

So I have once again been chuckling at some adorable clumsy Russian in Nikolai and Nikto fics, and thus I decided to make a little list that might be helpful for fellow COD writers here. And yes, please, feel free to reach out to me if you need any proofreading of your Russian phrases, I would be glad to assist since google translator can butcher it in ways non-speakers won't be able to notice.

I would really appreciate if you guys shared this post and helped it reach people that might need it, I put way more effort into it than I expected myself <3 Also, I might make a followup with some more words and/or phrases that can be useful, so please feel free to request some, since here I am mostly focusing on terms of endearment.

I will write down Russian words, their (approximate and wonky, sorry for that) transcription/transliteration and what part of speech they are (keep in mind that adjectives can be used as nouns when used to address someone) and provide according translation and use.

Keep in mind that in Russian the gender of the word is important!!! I'll write down them in following order: he/him (он/его) version/ she/her (она/её) version/ they/them (они/их) version. However! They/them is NOT traditionally used as gender-neutral pronouns, it's plural only. Some queer and younger folks do use they/them (myself included), but it does sound wonky as it's direct copy from English. Unfortunately, Russian is not very suitable for gender-neutral writing, but there are ways to go about it (I'll try to note some of that too).

*however, since Nikto is sometimes using plural they/them to describe himself, that would be okay with him since it's plural. I hope that makes sense, lol.

So if you're putting an adjective with a noun (example: милый котик) you have to use an adjective in the correct gender form FOR THE WORD! If the noun (котик here) is masculine, you use masculine adjective form EVEN if you're referring to a person with she/her pronouns.

What is love?

The main thing I noticed is that y'all use a direct translation of the word "love" - "любовь" [l'ubov'] (n) to refer to a person. As in "how are you doing, love?". However, that's wrong. "Любовь" is either a word to describe the feeling, or a name (short version would be Люба [Lyuba]). If you wanna use an affectionate pet name, consider one of the following!

дорогой/дорогая/дорогие [dorogoy/dorogaya/dorogiye] (adj) - means "darling". Often used between spouses. Mostly used to refer to person directly, sounds a little quirky if you use it to refer to them in third person (as in "my darling went out to buy some strawberries").

любимый/любимая/любимые [l'ubimiy/l'ubimaya/l'ubimiye] (adj) - means "beloved/loved/loved one" and is probably the closest to "love". You can use it to refer to person directly or to talk about them in third person (as in "can't wait to see любимую". Also yes, the endings are changing depending on the case and I'm not entirely sure how to explain this concisely without going deep into grammar lol).

милый/милая/милые [miliy/milaya/miliye] (adj) - the word means "cute/cutie", but is also used as a general terms of endearment, like "sweetheart". Mainly to refer to someone directly, using it in third person is a little old-fashioned I'd say. Also commonly used by people outside romantic partnership, a kind old lady can definitely call you over with this one asking to help her read expiration date on a milk bottle or something.

любовь моя [l'ubov' moya] (n + adj/pronoun) - okay, I kinda tricked you saying you can't use the word "love" to refer to a person. If you say this (means "my love"), you can! It's pretty romantic and I am actually the one person that uses this daily, otherwise it's either very romance-novel/old-fashioned sounding, but there are moments when it's perfectly suitable. Have that fairytale moment! Also please note, that while "моя любовь" [moya l'ubov'] (adj/pronoun + n) is grammatically correct, it sounds kinda weird if you use it to address the person directly (like in a phrase "my love, you shine brighter than the stars"). While Russian doesn't have particularly strict rules about word order, it does matter to some extent, and this is a prime example: people just use one order way more often that the other.

Pocket-sized

I've already told somewhere here my favourite Nikto fic moment: the sweetest, romantic moment, interrupted by him calling reader "детёныш", which means "cub" as in baby animal. And while my parents do use this word affectionately, I can assure you, most people don't, and it was clear that this was a result of a clumsy translation of "baby" or something like that. So here are some variants for words like baby, little one and such!

малыш/малышка [malysh/malyshka] (n) - I'd say this feels more "little one" than "baby" to me, it's a tad less sexually charged if you get what I mean. Also, you call "малыш" a person of any gender/pronouns, while "малышка" is strictly for she/her. Obviously can be used for kids too.

детка [d'etka] (n) - this one is definitely "baby" or "babe" as a term of endearment, calling a real kid this would be WEIRD if you're not a really old granny. I would also say that it's more commonly used to refer to female partners, but that might be just my perception and experience. It's still okay to use both ways. Also this word can be very much used if you need a little bit of sleazy/catcalling/bad pickup line energy, like someone shouting after a girl passing by on the street. Yuck.

маленький/маленькая [mal'en'kiy/mal'en'kaya] (adj) - this just means "little" or "small", I'd say it's used less commonly and usually in this form "маленький мой/маленькая моя" [mal'en'kiy moy/mal'en'kaya moya] (adj + adj/pronoun). I will expand on this a little later here! Can be used to refer to kids too.

All kinds of fauna

While poor детёныш is reserved for furry freaks like yours truly, there are some animal nicknames that are very widely spread! Here are some that I think would be most useful for y'all. Granted, some people think that these are a lil' bit cringey, but I think it really just depends on what you're used to hear around you. So if I think calling someone a cub is cute, and bunny is cringe, that probably says more about me :D

котик [kot'ik] (n) - this is a term of endearment for a cat. NOT same as kitten, mind you! Mostly used to refer to men (since the word is of masculine gender) - in my experience.

котёнок [kot'onok] (second o here is like ö in German) (n) - now THIS is "kitten". I would say this is more gender-neutral than the previous one, but the word is still masculine gender.

зайка [zayka] (n) - I believe this would be an equivalent to "bunny", although it's actually a cute word for a hare, not a rabbit. Definitely used for all genders (also the word can be both masculine and feminine gender), also is okay to use referring to kids (even teachers that are into endearing nicknames can call pupils this and it's not weird. well, in elementary school). You can also say "зайчонок" [zaych'onok] (n) which is a word for baby hare, even cuter.

рыбка [ribka] (n) - a term of endearment for a fish. I think it's viewed as a bit old-fashioned and thus only used jokingly nowadays, but you know what? Nikolai could pull this off 100%. Bonus points if it's "рыбка моя" [ribka moya] (n + adj/pronoun). Only used for women and the word itself is of feminine gender.

медвежонок [medv'ezhonok] (n) - now, I actually have never met someone who would call their partner this, but I myself would (and I definitely saw it in some media, but that's obv not too reliable). It's a word for a bear cub, so I think it's cute to call a huge ass bear of a military man this word. It's of masculine gender, but I would say it's okay to call a she/her person this too. ALTHOUGH there is a grammatically incorrect (but this only adds to cuteness as it often happens) word "медвежонка" [medv'ezhonka] (n) - this would be a female bear cub. My family uses this word, I use it, no, it won't be in a dictionary, but everyone will understand what you mean. Is okay to use for kids too.

щенок [sh'enok] (if it helps, щ is like German "schtsch", like in Borschtsch, like sh but soft) (n) - now, this actually is not used as a term of endearment, it's "puppy" and it's suitable for degradation. The word is of masculine gender, but you can call anyone this to be honest. You can tell Nikto he's "глупый щенок" [glupiy sh'enok] (adj + n) (silly puppy) and that man will either bark for you or gut you. If you say "тупой" [tupoy] (adj) (dumb) instead of "глупый" [glupiy] (adj) (silly), it will be downright offensive. You can say "щеночек" [sh'enochek] (n), which is an endearing term for a puppy, so it's a little bit sweete. OR you can use my personal favourite - "щен" [sh'en] (n), which is actually also incorrect, but if you've ever heard of a great poet and poetry innovator Mayakovskiy, he was called this word by Lilya Brik. I do NOT have the time to unpack that wild relationship (there was a throuple involved. Russian poetry scene of early XX century was WILD and it's my favourite poetry period hands down), but it's pretty famous. The word "щен" consists of the word "puppy" but with the end diminutive suffix cut off. The trick is, that while some words return to their non-diminutive form with such procedure, this one does not - so you're basically inventing a new word that now sounds quite degrading and harsh, but also sexy as hell (personal opinion). I would definitely call Nikto this word.

птичка [ptich'ka] (n) - that's just "birdie", but I actually wouldn't say many people use it to refer to each other. HOWEVER, Nikolai 100% calls his steel bird this. The word is of feminine gender and if you are calling a person this, it's probably more suitable for a woman.

цыпа [tsipa??] (n) or even цыпочка [tsipoch'ka] (n) - that's a chick, like a baby hen, used only to refer to women (feminine gender word). Honestly I only heard this in foreign films dubbed in Russian or like in jokes/sarcastic phrases. It's kinda rude/indecent/vulgar and the only man that can say that and stay attractive is Captain Jack Sparrow (he used this word in Russian dubbed Pirates like once maybe, talking to Elisabeth, and that was funny cuz he be crazy like that). But maybe you want this, idk.

And everything sweet

Unfortunately, I haven't seen anyone translate the word "honey" as "мёд" directly, that would be another brilliant laugh (cuz it's wrong to refer to a person like that), but there are some "sweet" words to use!

сладкий/сладкая [sladk'iy/sladkaya] (adj) - this just means "sweet", like the taste, and it can be sexy or sleazy or just cute. You can call a kid this word too, BUT for a child would be better сладенький/сладенькая [slad'en'kiy/slad'en'kaya], which is like one step further into diminutive-endearing department.

конфетка [konf'etka] (n) - this is a diminutive word for a candy, a sweet, like a caramel or chocolate or whatever. Not very common, but is cute. Also a way to describe a sexy/good-looking person (more likely a woman, the word is of feminine gender) or just something really good (a bit jokingly). The latter is usually used in a phrase build like "не ..., а просто конфетка", which is roughly translated "that's not ... that's just plain candy". Might have an actual English equivalent that I can't think of right now. Maybe "a total snack"? Probably that one, yeah. Can be said about anything, a car for example.

Shiny

I wanna stick in a few more words of endearment and they all are kinda shiny, lol, so here you go!

солнце [solntse] (n) - this means "sun", like that big glowing thingy in the sky, but it's very welcome as a term of endearment. This word is NEUTER gender (explained in the next section). Viktor Tsoy (a famous rock musician with an unfortunate fate and immortal cultural heritage) had a song ("Cuckoo" - "Кукушка") with the words "солнце моё, взгляни на меня" [solntse moyo, vzgl'yan'i na m'en'ya] (my sun, look at me), so "солнце моё" (n + adj/n) is a good one. You can also use "солнышко" [solnyshko] (n) which is an endearing version of "sun", so it's like "sunshine". Also of neuter gender! Can and should be used to address kids too.

золотце [zolottse] (n) - this literally means like... a little gold? A little golden piece? I don't think there's a proper equivalent in English. It's a word of neuter gender and it's very much used for kids too. Another version would be "золотой мой/золотая моя/золотые мои" [zolotoy moy/zolotaya moya/zolotiye moyi] (adj + adj/pronoun) - this is "my golden", it's a little less common and I feel like it's often used to be condescending, but it's not inherenrly bad, so you can use it for a loved one.

сокровище [sokrov'ish'e] (once again it's щ, look previously) (n) - this is a word of neuter gender and it means "treasure". I personally adore this one and it's pretty common. Can be used for any gender and for kids!

звёздочка [zv'yozdoch'ka] (n) - this is like a little star/starshine. Wouldn't say it's that common, but I use it a lot. The word itself is of feminine gender, but you can call anyone that! Or you can say "звезда моя" [zv'ezda moya] (n + adj/pronoun), which means "my star". Also feminine gender word, but can be used for anyone.

This dog belongs to...

I am not going to go too deep into sexy/sex-related words in this part, because I'll just get overwhelmed with the amount, but I want to go over some words of ownership quickly.

мой/моя/мои/моё [moy/moya/moyi/moyo] (adj/pronoun) - this means my/mine. It goes really well with many words in this list, especially the adjectives, like "мой дорогой" [moy dorogoy] (my darling) or "солнышко моё" [solnyshko moyo] (my sun/sunshine). The last version, "моё" [moyo] is neuter gender, it's NOT gender-neutral! It's the "it/its" I guess (not exactly, but let's just stick with this simplyfied explanation). Previously there were some words of that gender, so here you go. BTW I would say that in speech it's more common to put this word before adjectives and after nouns (like in my examples), just sounds better, but it's not wrong to do otherwsise. You can also just say "ты мой" [ti moy] (you're mine). Also can be used to refer in third person, like when you're discussing your man with your gossip girls, you can just go "а мой вчера..." [a moy vch'era] (and mine yesterday...) and everyone will understand that you mean your man. Unless you wee discussing pets, then they'll probably assume it's your cat.

хозяин/хозяйка [khoz'yain/khoz'yayka] (n) - saw this one too btw. This means "owner" or kiiiinda "master/mistress", and they are gendered, so it's actually wrong to call a woman "хозяин" unless there's some kinky genderfuckery going on (which I'm all for, but like. you get what I mean).

господин/госпожа [gospod'in/gospozha] (n) - okay, THAT is definitely master/mistress, also gendered. Standard BDSM terminology and yada yada.

And that's where I'd like to wrap up for today! However, if needed, I can write more - perhaps with curse words or with sex-related words, or some phrases? I dunno, you tell me! Once again, I kindly ask you to share since I think this will help people (and while I understand the struggle of writing in another language and especially using words from language you don't speak at all, I can't help but be a little thrown off every time I see a wrong use of words in text).

Also remember: while Siberia is bigger than USA or even Canada, there are still other regions in Russia that deserve to be mentioned <3 a lot of places with mindblowing nature, cultural heritage etc.