#but let me know if you do actually use any of them and how you change the story

[legalandnotease]

@rebelsabers

Millady the perpetually offended. Let me make this very VERY clear do you.

Knowing some abuse survivors does not mean you know a thing about the actual experience of abuse surivivors. Do you not get experience by osmosis.

Saying "some of my best friends are" does not mean you know a single freaking thing about, for example victim-blaming and how common it is for abuse survivors and traumatized people to be subjected to such things.

The reason we object to the writers of shows like Tha Falcon and the Winter Soldier and Cap 4 retconning Bucky's backstory is because they are very deliberately doing it to make him look like less of a victim.

They are very intentionally taking the parts of his story that underscore how he was victimized and changing them to say that not only was he not victimized but he *wanted* what happened to him. That he consented to it, and was a willing participant.

Like saying that he took the serum willngly: if they repeat that lie often enough, people wil believe it, and they do. It will soon become the accepted canon.

and it isn’t about invalidating Bucky’s trauma

It is and has been since 2021, because that is the only way the writers think they can make Sam look like the ultimate victim- the person who suffered more than anyone who ever lived. That is the only way they think they can build him up: by pulling another character down.

It is a very concious effort to rewrite history- and it is being done for one purpose alone: to build up Sam at his expense.

We’ve already seen Bucky’s arc in The First Avenger, The Winter Soldier, Civil War, Infinity War, Endgame, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Utter garbage, and you know it.

In all these movies and the TV show in particular Bucky had a supporting role. He was used as a prop to other characters. In The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, especially, we were told he would be given a satisfying story arc about PTSD recovery.

Instead what we got was a lecture full of victim-blaming after 5 Episodes in which he'd had nothng but jokes at the expense of the major disabled/traumatized character and abuse survivor and constant bashing over the head with the message of how priveleged he was and how everyone else had it worse.

4 hours solid of being told that he was not a victim, he was just wallowing in self-pity and needed to stop lying to himself about not being to blame. For 4 hours solid we were told he was doing it all wilingly the entire time (just like abuse victims are told they wanted it/bought it on themselves). We were also subjected to the hideous scene, played for laughs in which he was "sold" to Selby with all the not-so-subtle undertones about SA which that included.

For it to culminate in Sam, the person who he looked up to and admired to tell him the only way to heal from his trauma was to *checks notes* - ah yes.... take responsibility for his own victimization as if he alone were responsible for all the evil wrought at the hand of HYDRA and apologize to all the other victims.

Who the heck thought that was a respecful or sensitive depiction of trauma recovery? Oh yeah- Malcolm Spellman and Kori Skogland.

He’s had plenty of screen time and emotional exploration. Sam has not.

Sam has had more *MUCH MORE* than Bucky.

The reason why you don't think Bucky deserves to have a character arc of his own, or any more attention devoted to him as a character is bacause you see him merely as Sam's accessory/love interest.

Or as just another white man. Not as a character beloved of traumatized people, disabled peoplle, and abuse survivors and many others who *crave* proper representation.

Who see in his character echoes of the kind of systematic oppression we have had to endure for centuries: from being experiemted on his is analogous to the eugenics movement, and his ECT which parallels the way people with PTSD were once tortured in insitutions, to how mental illness is still viewed today. The "mad, bad and dangerous" stereotype which he has been pushed into. Especially in the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

We want to see him given the screen time he deserves because we want him to come into his own as a hero: which can never happen if he is a mere prop to Steve, Sam, Yelena or whoever else.

...and yes, we are sick and tired of the messaging delivered to us through the treatment of his character on screen that we wanted and chose what happened to us. That it was our fault. That we deserved it.

No, Bucky Barnes would not agree with you: or he might purely because he's been conditioned by victim-blamng and self-loathing for so long. Which is another thing the abuse survivors among us can identify with. It does not make him, or you, correct.

"Sam, you are not going to believe how exponentially badly my day is going."

"Probably not as badly as mine, Buck"

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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[obaewankenope]

They are, in some ways, scared of being a bother to authors, aye. But there's also an aspect of some who read fic, might hit kudos, and then move on because they're just used to a reaction notification being enough (see most social media nowadays that lets you just heart or thumbs up shit and then keep on scrolling).

Some don't know they can comment at all.

Some don't care that they can comment because they expect the kudos button to be enough.

Some don't know what to say and fear bothering the author because they've seen how people commenting on things on Instagram etc can get dogpiled on and are scared of that happening to them.

Some just don't have the time to leave a comment because they're bing-reading and forget the fics they've read.

Some think a 'shout out' on other social media is preferred when, honestly, authors want to have engagement with their readers (we eat up comments even as simple as "<3 <3 <3" seriously, we genuinely do) but they're used to platforms like tiktok and Instagram where a 'shout out' is more valuable because it means hits and financial payoff. They don't realise we don't get paid on AO3 to write fic so a shout out isn't as useful to us as an actual comment or bookmarking of our fic with screeching in the bookmark notes.

Like, there's lots of varying reasons why commenting on fic isn't as prevalent anymore (many of which tend to stem from "reaction to a post being equated with the kudos button and thus 'enough'" because that's usually fine on other platforms) but anxiety and being scared/worried/concerned with causing offense or upset to the author (or anyone who reads the comments) is a big one too.

With how overwhelmingly powerful cancel-culture is and how people are told about or hear of times when authors have ripped on people leaving 'reviews' when they've been unasked for, a fair number of individuals likely worry about leaving a comment that, in some way, could be construed as criticism or unasked for critique and getting cancelled for it as a result.

The best way to avoid that, however, isn't to not comment, it's to have a bare-bones structure for leaving comments, mainly:

I loved/liked/enjoyed this fic/chapter/one-shot! My favourite bit is/was probably [insert short summary or specific bit of fic like a sentence or paragraph] because it made me feel/think about/remember sth specific to the fandom!

Amazing/good fic! 10/10 would recommend! Extra kudos!

That's, ultimately, the easiest way to leave a comment on a fic or chapter because it gives the author sth to look at, go "oh they liked that bit! Nice! I enjoyed writing that part as well!" and lets them know you read the fic even if its not a 5 page long, size 12 font in Times New Roman essay review. It also avoids any of the risks of unintentional critique or critical reviews that authors tend to not ask for (unless we state such in our author notes) that often tend to be upsetting for the author to read because no one wants to be criticised (even if it is being done in a helpful way) unexpectedly when they haven't asked for it.

And if that kind of comment is too much, or you're too anxious for it, even the simpler:

Loved it! Extra kudos! <3

Works well enough for us authors to know you liked what we wrote enough to tell us that and shows us that it's only because you can't leave more than one kudos per fic that's stopping you from spamming us with kudos.

Just, if you can, comment. We don't need fancy, we just need to know you care.

"Ao3 should allow multiple kudos" "I want to be able to leave more than one kudos"

COMMENT ON THE FUCKING FIC

I SWEAR TO GOD NO ONE COMMENTS MUCH NOW WHEN THE ONLY WAY TO SHOW APPRECIATION FOR A SINGLE CHAPTER IS COMMENTING AND I AM NOT HAVING THIS BULLSHIT BE LIKE TIKTOK WHERE NO ONE EVER COMMENTS POSITIVITY

FOR FUCKS SAKE JUST COMMENT ON THE FUCKING FIC YOU DON'T NEED A MULTIPLE KUDOS BUTTON YOU NEED ACTUAL WORDS

TRUST ME ON ANY WEBSITE OR APP I POST COMMENTS AND WORDS ARE 10X BETTER THAN ANY PLAIN LIKE AND WORDLESS REBLOG IF YOU LIKE SOMETHING LEAVE WORDS

COMMENT

ON

THE

FUCKING

FICS

[elleandstufff]

Do I Like Her? ๋࣭ ⭑

Thanos can’t admit his feelings for you until it’s too late. Or is it…? Thanos/Choi Su-bong x fem!reader

Inspired by the song Stephanie by Nafeesisboujee! Requested by Anon! 

Warnings: Dual POV, angst, talking stage, indecisiveness, hiding true feelings, implied smut but nothing described, you both get with other people to try and get over the other, drinking, drug use, jealous!Thanos, ambiguous but hopeful ending, 3.3k words

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

The hum of the shitty light above you is enough to make you regret all of your decisions tonight. Your coworker had begged you to come out tonight to some club. That part actually wasn’t so bad. But just before last call, your coworker met some sleazy guy who begged the two of you to come to the twenty-four-hour diner down the street. 

Now, your coworker sits in the corner booth with said guy, and the two of them are eating each other’s faces off. You sit at the dingy counter nursing a cup of coffee. You’re already up freakishly early, so you might as well stay up. 

“Hey, Señorita.”

A man’s voice infiltrates your ears, but you don’t realize he’s talking to you until you look up from your coffee and see him standing right next to you. He’s tall and lean with purple hair and clothes that make you think he just came from the club like most of the diner’s crowd right now. 

“Do you have a name?” 

You’re not sure why you tell him, but you do. It’s not often that you entertain these sorts of things, but there’s something special about this purple-haired guy. 

“I’m Thanos.” He extends a hand toward you, but instead of shaking it he just cradles your hand in his. 

“What’s your real name?” 

He pulls a face. “Sorry, babe. I don’t go around giving that out to just anybody.” 

You smirk, ready to play along. “Well, I need to know. I’m definitely not going to be moaning Thanos all night.” 

His eyes widen. He wasn’t expecting you to be so forward. 

“What?” You feign innocence. “That’s why you came up to me, right? Why don’t we just skip all the talk and get the hell out of this dump?”

He smiles and threads your fingers together. “I saw you at Club Pentagon but didn’t get a chance to talk to you. Then I found you again here. That’s got to be fate, huh?”

You let your coworker know that you’re heading out, and she wishes you farewell even though she’s a little preoccupied. You walk outside hand-in-hand with the man you literally just met. His apartment isn’t a far walk, so the two of you set off on foot. The walk will give the two of you a chance to get to know each other a little bit before you end up tangled together in his bed sheets. 

“It’s Su-bong,” he says, then repeats himself once you look up at him confused. “My name is Su-bong.” 

“So, Su-bong, you do this often?”

“What? Bring girls home?”

You laugh. Based on his demeanor, you’re fairly certain this isn’t his first time doing this. You lift your entwined hands. “No, I meant this.” 

He stalls for a minute, like your probing has him questioning everything. Why was he doing this? “No, actually. Just for you, Señorita. What about you? You do this often?”

You can’t help but smile at this man you hardly know a thing about. “Well then I’m honored. And no, this isn’t how my typical Friday nights look.” 

You talk more as the two of you walk. You find out that he’s a rapper, which makes sense. He’s a bit twitchy, too. You’ve seen enough drug use in your life to know that he was on something tonight that’s starting to wear off. 

You don’t waste any time when you get back to his apartment. He’s rough of course, but there’s a certain tenderness to him that sets your brain on fire. Something tells you that it’s new for him too. 

You offer to leave after–even though you don’t want to–but he asks you to stay and get some rest. You had planned to just stay up and get some much needed errands done, but how could you say no? You were already feeling something toward him, which is the exact reason why you didn’t do stuff like this often. You catch feelings way too fast, and apparently even faster when the feelings are for a purple-haired rapper. 

He opens up the drawer beside his bed and pulls out a pill bottle that you know is not prescription. He downs a couple and rolls over to face you. “You’ll still be here when I wake up, yeah?” He says it matter-of-factly, but there’s something to his tone that makes it sound almost like he’s pleading.

“‘Course,” you whisper, but whatever pills he took have already taken effect and he’s softly breathing beside you. 

It takes you a while to drift off, and you wake before him a few hours later, but you honor the promise you made. He stirs awake not long after, and he seems surprised to still see you in his bed. Something flashes in his eyes–adoration, maybe–but he’s quick to get up. He seems different now, more walled off. 

As he moves around his kitchen preparing himself a junk food filled breakfast as if you’re not even there, you try to say your goodbyes. He looks at you with his mouth full. “Oh, let me get your number.” 

“So you can ghost me for three weeks and then randomly text me at two in the morning one day because you’re horny? No thanks.” 

He stops you before you can get out the door with a sigh, like he can’t believe he’s doing this… “How about I give you my number then? That way you can decide if you want to ghost me or not.” 

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

You end up not ghosting him, and Su-bong struggles with how he feels about it. Usually after he hooks up with a girl, he might talk to her for a couple weeks, but it never lasts. Things either fizzle out or he just doesn’t care enough to put the effort in. But with you… there’s something different. Something special. It terrifies him. 

You text him. A lot. He’s not good at responding to anyone, so he has to constantly remind himself to text you back. He doesn’t always respond, and oftentimes it’s hours after you sent the initial text, but it’s more of an effort than he’s put into anyone else. 

You come over a couple times a week, too. Mostly to hook up, but the visits start getting longer with shared joints and movie nights. He likes the way your bodies fit together. He likes waking up to someone in his bed, and he likes that person being you. But he can’t admit any of this to his friends, himself, and especially you. He knows you like him, he knows you would be so good for him, but he can’t seem to let himself go past good morning texts and tender forehead kisses when he thinks you’re asleep. 

One night, he asks you to come to the club with him. Not meet him there, come with him. It’s a big step for him, and he tries not to think too much about it. He pops a pill from his cross necklace just to calm his nerves. 

The two of you sit in a booth at Club Pentagon with his friends. Su-bong keeps an arm tightly wrapped around you, like he doesn’t want to lose you. He’s seen the way some of his friends look at you. 

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you shout over the bass-boosted club music. 

“I can do it,” he offers. 

“No, it’s okay.” You smile sweetly. “I need to stretch my legs anyway.” 

He doesn’t realize that he’s staring at your figure the entire time you’re at the bar until he feels his shoulder being nudged. Distractedly, he turns to see Nam-gyu. 

“Do you like her?” 

“Nah,” Su-bong answers, before he can even think about it. “Just a fling.” 

“You sure? Because-” 

“Yep, I’m sure,” he answers curtly. 

He doesn’t like you that much, right? So why does he feel like shit right now?

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

You’d been talking to Su-bong for a couple of months now. You never put a label on it, but it keeps your life interesting. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish you two could take the next step into a real relationship. Su-bong is not a super affectionate person, so you’ll have to take him in whatever form you can get. 

You text him probably more than you should. He hardly ever texts you first, but he keeps responding to you–even if it’s hours later–so you keep texting him. You frequent his apartment more and more often, and he even starts coming by yours. His touches get more tender, his words more soft, and you begin to think maybe you’re getting somewhere with him. You know he probably won’t be the one to make the next step, so you decide to. 

One morning you bring it up as you lie with your head on his chest and your legs tangled with his. He’s staring at the ceiling thinking about whatever it is that he thinks about, smoke blowing out from between his lips. 

“So, I have this weird work party thing tonight.” 

He takes another hit from his vape. 

“And like everybody at my work is married and bringing a plus one…”

Another hit. 

“So… I was thinking maybe you could come with me?”

He immediately tenses beneath you. It’s quick and he adjusts himself, but you definitely felt it. You quickly sit up feeling like a complete idiot. 

He rolls on his side to look at you. You prepare yourself for what’s about to come. 

“It’s just… I thought this was more of a casual thing, you know?”

You clear your throat. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, that was stupid. I wasn’t thinking.” 

“I mean, I could still come I guess.” 

“No, no, really it’s fine.” You get up and start throwing your clothes on as fast as you can without making it so obvious that you’re upset. 

He catches your wrist. “You don’t have to leave.” 

“I just remembered that I’m supposed to bring a dessert and I don’t have any of the stuff, so I should probably get started on that.” 

You scramble out of his apartment before he can say much more. You don’t really have to bring a dessert, but you go to the store in a stupor anyway to try and distract yourself. You spend way too much time baking a stupid cake that tastes only half-good. You go to your work party and get introduced to a wave of husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, and significant others. 

You thought you could do this casual thing, but turns out you’re not very good at it. 

Texts to Su-bong get way less frequent, while texts from Su-bong are at an all time high. With the roles reversed all of a sudden, you can hardly form responses to his mirage of texts. What is even the point in texting anymore? You’ll never be anything more, so responding just makes you feel stupid. 

You meet up for a couple more late-night rendezvous, but one night you decide you can’t take it anymore. You lie awake for hours deciding what you’re going to say when he wakes up. When he finally does, you squeeze your hands into fists to keep yourself from crying. 

He’s groggy and barely awake, but he goes for his vape on the nightstand anyway. It’s like he knows this is coming. 

“I don’t think we should do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.” 

“C’mon-” 

“No, Su-bong,” you stand firm. “I can’t do it. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry I’m not like you.” 

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Su-bong chews up his third or fourth pill of the day. He had taken more than he had wanted, but did he ever get what he wanted? No. Did he deserve what he wanted? Also no. He wanted you–he needed you–but he fucked that up. So now he didn’t deserve you and he didn’t have you. What a killer combo. 

When you had asked him to come to your work party, he nearly panicked. He wasn’t the type of guy you take to office work parties. You knew that so why did you even ask? Fuck, this wasn’t your fault. It was his. 

He should’ve just said yes. Should’ve just sucked down his fear and put on a nice outfit and a fake smile and shaken hands with all the people from your work that you can’t stand. Instead, he made you do that all by yourself. Who knows, maybe Ji-woon from your job turned out to not be so bad. Maybe you and Ji-woon are sucking face right now in the office break room. Ji-woon doesn’t have to do much to be less of an asshole than him! 

And when you’d broken things off, you’d said that you weren’t like him. You couldn’t have been more wrong. He thought he wasn’t like you at first, too. He didn’t think he was the type of person to catch feelings after one night and blow up someone’s phone, but turns out he is that type of person. Just like you. He thought he made it obvious, when he started texting you constantly after declining your work party invitation. It still wasn’t your fault that you didn’t realize. He should’ve spelled it out for you. He wishes he still had the chance. But even if you were right in front of him, he would still struggle to find the words to tell you how he felt. Fuck, why did he have to be like this? It doesn’t really matter. He’s probably never going to see you again.

The girl in the seat beside him stirs. He had completely forgotten about her. If he squints, she almost looks like you. Actually, no she doesn’t. No one does. 

“Thanos,” she purrs in his ear. “Let’s go dance!” 

Thanos. You never called him Thanos, not even around his friends. He liked it better that way. 

She starts kissing his jawline, and he turns so his mouth meets hers. He entertains it for a minute, but then he pulls away. She’s not you. 

“Sorry, this won’t work. You should go.” 

The girl looks at him bewildered, before calling him an asshole and storming away. Nam-gyu slides into the seat where the girl once was. 

“Dude, what’s going on? That’s the third girl this week you’ve fumbled.” 

Su-bong wouldn’t call it fumbling. He tried to make it work, tried to forget about you, but he couldn’t. So he pushed the girls away. 

“C’mon, dude. Are you really caught up over that girl? I thought you said you didn’t really like her?” 

“I do,” he says, jaw tense. “I do like her. So fucking much.” 

“Well, then you better tell her before it’s too late…” Nam-gyu gestures toward the bar where a familiar face is sitting. 

Su-bong nearly falls out of his seat. You’re here and he has another chance. He’s on his feet and halfway to you when he sees him. Some loser has his arm wrapped around your waist. It’s not Ji-woon, but it might as well be. You know what? Su-bong doesn’t care, he’s going to talk to you anyway. 

“Hey, Señorita,” he says, sliding into the spot beside you. 

He swears he sees your eyes light up for a minute, until the leech at your side speaks up. “Hey, buddy, she’s spoken for-”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I know him.” 

Su-bong pulls you into a tight hug that forces the dude to drop his arm to his side. He wraps his arms around your waist so tightly, and he could just melt when he feels you wrap your arms around his neck. This probably looks really weird to the guy. Good. 

You pull away from the hug, so he reluctantly does as well. Then, he starts to lean in to kiss you, and this time you stop him. “You should drink some water, go home, get some sleep.” 

Shit. He didn’t realize he looks high out of his mind. At least you’re sweet about it. At least you still care. 

“Uh, we gotta go,” the loser at your side says, pulling you away. 

He didn’t get to tell you how he felt. Maybe it was too late for the two of you. It was definitely too late. But he still wanted to tell you how he felt. You deserved that much. Now he just needs to find a way to tell you.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

The guy your coworker set you up with drags you outside. “That was weird. Who was that guy?” 

“My ex?” you say, but it comes out as more of a question. Was that what Su-bong was?

The guy looks at you weird, but then he’s leaning in and so are you. You let the kiss happen. He’s not as good a kisser as Su-bong, but it distracts you at the very least. 

“How about we go back to my place?” he says, pulling away. 

You pause. You could go back to his place–a guy who actually likes you–or you could go inside to the guy who doesn’t like you back. Instead, you do neither. You let the guy down easy and go home to your empty bed. Maybe one day you’ll be able to move on from Su-bong. 

A week or so later at work, your coworker pulls you aside at lunch. “You know that rapper guy you were hooking up with for a while?” 

Your heart drops. “Yes, why? Is he okay?”

“Sounds like somebody is down bad.” She laughs. “Looks like he wrote a song about you.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “There’s no way it’s actually about me.”

Your friend hands you her phone that has his Thanos instagram page open. There’s a picture of his new single. The title of the song is your name and the artwork is a blurry picture of the two of you. Your hand flies to your mouth. This is the guy that wanted to keep things casual? 

“Says he’s performing it tonight for the first time at Club Pentagon. You going?” 

That night you show up to Club Pentagon early, determined to talk to Su-bong about what the fuck is going on. You can’t find him until you spot him right before he’s about to go on. You storm up to him. 

“Su-bong, what the fuck!? You tell me we need to keep things casual and then you write a song that’s very obviously about me?” 

He turns to you, his microphone in one hand and his other hand fiddling with his ear piece. He looks incredibly nervous, but you can tell that he’s fully sober. “You came.”

You fold your arms stubbornly across your chest. “Uh, yeah, I came. Kinda need to figure out what the hell is going on.” 

“We can talk after. I promise,” he says with a shaky breath. “Just listen to the performance, please. And don’t leave without talking to me.” 

You nod your head yes and find a spot to listen to his performance. As he performs, you really listen to the lyrics. Not only were they irrefutably about you, they were irrefutably a confession about his true feelings for you. Your heart leaps into your throat. He likes you. 

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

When Su-bong finishes his performance, his eyes lock onto you and only you. You’re silently crying, tear streaks adorning your pretty face. He waits expectantly, trying to read your emotions. You don’t react at first, your eyes remaining locked onto his. But then… You smile like you’ve just seen the sun for the first time. 

⛧°。Masterlist °⛧

Here it is, Anon! Sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoyed it! 

Also, I have another Thanos x reader story I’m working on that’s inspired by a song. I’m thinking about maybe making a mini-series of (unrelated) fics based off of songs. So if that’s something you want to see, comment or send me songs that remind you of Thanos (or other Squid Game characters)! 

[curatedcurios1ty]

(18+, fingering. reader has a pussy)

It had been a long week, and honestly, it had been even longer since you’ve masturbated.

It’s not that you dislike devildom or anything..it’s just a little frustrating not having any time to really take care of yourself.

So when the perfect night rolls around, with most brothers out of the house (lucifer meeting with diavolo, mammon doing god knows what, asmo clubbing, levi at a convention with beel tagging along, and satan at book club). You take full advantage.

And so, that’s how your night begins, you’re under your blanket with your knees up, underwear hanging off of one ankle, your hand makes its way between your legs and you sigh, finally.

And yeah maybe you’re kinda excited to be able to cum, too excited in fact. To the point where you almost (almost) miss the click of your door opening.

Dammit!

God Dammit. That’s it, you decide, the entire universe must be against you. Shouldn’t he be sleeping? Fuck! You drop your knees back down onto the bed. Belphegor makes his way over to the bed, he’s just about to get under your covers when you reach out a hand to stop him.

“Hold on, not tonight.” Thankfully he pauses, fist wrapped around the blanket.

“Why not?” His voice is soft, he’s almost pouting.

“It’s just…because, i’m busy right now.” You don’t have the heart to tell him what you were actually doing. Yet, after a moment of silence he’s already pressing forward again.

His expression shifts into something quizzical, like he’s trying to figure something out. You see him sniff the air around you and look back at you.

“You’re turned on. Were you masturbating?”

God fucking dammit. This is embarrassing. Is it a demon thing? You knew Asmodeus could sense lust, but can Belphie really smell your arousal? Well if he knows, he should be giving you space now. You hope.

“Uh, yeah actually,” That was still mortifying to admit, your body feels hot in more ways than one. “That was my plan for tonight, so maybe you should nap someplace else?” Even after all of this you still want to cum.

Instead of listening to you, Belphie fully slides under the covers. His eyes hold this intensity you’ve never seen before, and it’s all directed towards you.

“Let me help you, turn around.” He sounds more serious than you’ve ever heard. You don’t know what compels you to but you obey, turning so he’s pressed up against your back.

He wedges his head into the crook of your neck and inhales. “Let me take care of you.”

One of his hands traces along your side until it reaches the swell of your ass. He gives it a light squeeze before gripping your cheek and using it to push it to the side, giving him access to your pussy.

He uses his fingers to spread your pussy open, and fuck, you’re glad he can’t see how soaked you are..it’s just been so long.

As soon as that thought passes through you, feel his other hand reach under you. He drags his middle finger over your throbbing clit down to your sopping, wet hole before pulling back completely. You can’t help but moan, his touch is delicate yet deliberate. You want more.

You’re about to ask him why he stopped when his hand comes out from under the covers and into view. He holds it out in front of the two of you.

“Wow, you’re really wet, huh?” You can’t help but to be in awe as well. The digit is shining in slick juices, only made worse when he spreads it over to his pointer finger with his thumb.

“Belphie, keep going,” You don’t think you can take this teasing, not when he’s still holding you open. “please.”

“Okay.” The fingers disappear from view, a moment later you feel them on your clit rubbing in small circles. You move to grind on them but the hand on your ass holds you in place.

This continues for a while, you’re getting more turned on by the second. It’s good, but you need more.

“Put a finger inside.” You expect the ones on your clit to fulfill that task, but instead he stops holding you open to wriggle his other middle finger inside you. Fuck, it’s almost too much it’s-

“So good.”

He’s mouthing along your neck as he stretches you with his finger. He’s slow with it, but it feels like you’re on fire. Soon, you feel him slip out completely and trace over your hole with two fingers.

“Can I add another?” You nod, not sure if your voice would come out whole. Slowly, his fingers push in, and you gasp. He reaches so much deeper than you could on your own.

Slow thrust turn into slight stretching, which then turns into him curling his fingers. Hitting that gummy spot that makes your mind go blank.

“Do you think you could come, just like this?” His breath is hot against your neck, hell, everything is hot right now.

“Yeah, I could. Keep going, please.” And you mean it. Fuck, your orgasm is so close you can taste it. Like he can read your mind, his hands speed up. You’re moaning louder than before. And just like that something snaps.

You feel yourself clench around his fingers during your orgasm. Your sure belphie can feel it too, from the breathless way he says your name as his hands slow back down.

You’re still blinking hard from the aftershock when he finally pulls away. You turn your body to see him wipe his fingers on the corner of the blanket. Too out of it to say anything, you try to remember to wash it later.

He turns back to you and looks you in the eyes. Even if his face is flushed you can tell that he’s utterly exhausted. Your point is proven by how he cuddles up to you and completely deflates.

“Can we sleep now?” Any reply you would have giving would be useless. His eyes closed, and breathing already slowing down. You decide that you could save a real conversation for later.

For now you’ll just lie down with him.

[demigodofhoolemere]

Poll’s over but let’s play this again just for fun, shall we?

19th century China facing Tereleptils with Ten, Gabby, Cindy, and Anubis. I do NOT know any of those companions but okay, strength in numbers is good. And… oh. The TARDIS hates me. That’s not a good sign. I’ll probably live just because of how many of us there are but I’m not sticking around if the TARDIS hates me.

Let’s just do this again for characters I know and hopefully a TARDIS that does not hate me…

*spinny spin spin*

I’m on Gliese 581d… *looks that up*… oh my gosh, the Emojibot world. It had better be AFTER Twelve solved that problem already. Facing… THE FORETOLD ARE YOU KIDDING. Mummies are already an old and deep fear for me but this thing literally targets physical and mental illness to weed out the weak. My neurodivergent and severely chronically ill butt is DEAD. I’m with Fifteen and Ruby but I’m gonna be real with you, I don’t think they can save me. I think I’m gonna be the reason he cries in this episode.

*spins for condition even though the situation is hopeless*

… I LIVE???

Wow, okay, I guess I underestimated Fifteen and Ruby. Thanks guys!

After somehow saving me from the Foretold we’re gonna head to the Pirate Planet where we’ll face some Ood. Hopefully they’re friendly ones and we don’t have too hard a time.

Next up we’re headed to an Arctic research station and unfortunately run into some Kasaavin. That sounds pretty dangerous but luckily I have the plot armor of needing to be in the next episode, so we all make it out alive, though I suspect the people manning the station may not be so lucky. This one could be a cool story actually lol.

Finally we’re off for a holiday on New Earth, but we find a Pting wreaking havoc. Thankfully Fifteen should know what to do by virtue of having already been Thirteen, so we can probably solve this problem between the three of us. Assuming New Earth has advanced enough technology for it, we might be able to capture it using whatever tech existed in the RotD space jail that managed to keep that one contained. It’ll certainly take some effort but I think we’re good here and I’m not gonna die on my final journey. Honestly this kind of sounds like a zany little adventure that Fifteen and Ruby really would have.

I’ll gladly stay with them until I can get home but man, I’m already on borrowed time after the Foretold incident, I’m not taking my chances traveling full-time. It’s been great fun though, guys.

Spin the Wheel: Doctor Who Edition

You have been swept away in a Time Storm to some other place and time, where monsters stalk the streets! Fortunately, the TARDIS has landed there, too. Can you make it through this adventure? What will you do even if you can?

Spin for your location

Spin for Monster of the Week

Spin for TARDIS team

Spin for bonus condition

[forcaleb]

a picture worth sharing — caleb

warnings — fluff, childhood friends to lovers (kind of, it's implied)

notes — i think childhood friends to lovers is one of my favorite tropes in the books and fics // tags: @aomiiine @sydneybee @tojicide

caleb taps your shoulder, trying to show you a picture on his phone. “hey, pip-squeak, do you remember when-”

you quickly cut him off. “nope! no, i don’t. i actually don’t know what you’re talking about.” you turn your head away, refusing to look at his phone, already suspecting it’s something embarrassing.

“you didn’t even let me finish,” caleb says, a pout evident on his lips. “come on, i promise it’s something good. you’ll love it.”

“no way! the last time you tried showing me something, it was an embarrassing picture of me as a kid!” you grimace, recalling the picture of you crying because you fell off a slide. caleb had snapped the shot with your grandma’s phone before tending to your scraped knee. “i’m not looking at whatever you’re about to show me.”

“hey, i swear it’s nothing embarrassing this time,” caleb promises. “it’s actually a picture of us from your graduation day.”

that piques your interest. “huh? really? where? i haven’t seen my graduation pictures in so long.” you reach for caleb’s phone, but instead of handing it to you, he raises it out of reach. “hey! i thought you wanted to show it to me!”

“yeah, but aren’t you going to apologize for… whatever that was just now?” caleb raises an eyebrow.

you groan. “ugh, fine. i’m sorry for assuming you were going to be mean to me. forgive me? pretty please?” you give him the classic puppy eyes, his ultimate weakness.

“pip-squeak…” caleb sighs, shaking his head. “alright, i give up. here, look.”

he shows you his phone, and your eyes widen at the sight of the picture. it is a picture of you and caleb together during your graduation day. you stand just in front of caleb, your body angled slightly toward the camera. you are holding a bouquet of sunflowers in both hands, your face lit up with a warm, cheerful smile. behind you, caleb stands slightly to your side, his posture relaxed and confident. one of his hands rests gently on your shoulder, a subtle gesture of support and closeness. 

“cute, isn’t it?” he asks, grinning.

“how have i never seen this picture before?” you exclaim.

“well…” caleb smiles mischievously. “i made sure the photographer didn’t upload this to the graduation album. that way, i could surprise you with it anytime, like now.”

“wait, was it the photographer or one of your friends from the academy? i remember you coming to my graduation with a friend... gideon, right?” you ask, recalling how gideon kept teasing caleb about being so smitten with you.

“hm… well, it’s both, actually.” caleb points out. he swipes left and shows another version of the photograph. except, this time it’s a different shot. in this image, you are posing playfully in front of caleb, tilting your head to the side with a big, joyful smile. you raise one arm high in the air in an energetic and carefree gesture, adding a lively and cheerful tone to the scene. caleb stands behind you, his body angled slightly toward you, wearing a relaxed smile. his expression is calm and gentle, complementing your vibrant energy. “this is the one gideon took, and the previous one was taken by the photographer.”

“why didn’t you send these to me before?” you whine. “i could’ve used one for that empty photo frame I’ve been keeping in a box for a whole year.”

“okay, okay, i’ll send them now.” caleb chuckles as he opens your text thread and sends both pictures. “see? told you it wasn’t anything embarrassing.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m sorry for assuming the worst.” you apologize again, narrowing your eyes at him. “but from now on, you’d better send me any photos of us together. don’t you dare hide them from me again.”

“sure,” caleb agrees easily, his grin turning playful. “as long as i get to keep the silly pictures of you.”

“caleb! don’t you dare!” you shout, smacking his arm, while he laughs, clearly enjoying your reaction.

[reccyls]

The Robin Who Grazed the Reaper’s Secret Eagerly Awaits His Words (Part 1)

My translation of Victor's 2025 birthday story!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue (Victor's POV)

---

The middle of February was approaching.

(He asked me to come to a different room instead of the lounge, I wonder what this is about.)

William had called for me, so I made my way towards one of the castle’s rooms.

(It didn’t sound like anything serious, though.)

Arriving at the designated room, I knocked on the door.

Kate: William, it’s Kate.

William: Come in.

William was elegantly sipping some tea while seated as I entered.

Kate: Sorry to keep you waiting.

William: I haven’t been waiting for that long. Don’t worry about it.

I nervously sat on the chair opposite of William.

William: I’ve called you today to discuss none other than Victor.

Kate: Wait, do you mean–

Catching onto what he was implying, I sat up straighter.

William: That’s right, it’s about his birthday.

This coming 20th of February was Victor’s birthday.

(I couldn’t celebrate properly last year, because I only found out it was his birthday the day after.)

–flashback– Victor: Yesterday was my birthday. Kate: …Huh? Kate: HUH!?? –end flashback–

I’d resolved to celebrate his birthday on the actual day itself next year, and that day was quickly approaching.

William: I know you’ve been thinking hard about how to celebrate this year, so I thought we could work together.

Kate: William…

I was happy to have such a strong ally in my quest.

William: As we both know, our hardworking queen’s aide doesn’t take any time off. William: Not even for his own birthday.

With an amused smile, William put forth a proposal.

William: So why not force him to take a break?

Kate: What?

He passed me a stack of papers. Confused, I glanced over them, seeing that it was a mission report.

Kate: This is… the report from your investigation the other day, isn’t it? Kate: It says the mission was completed without any problems.

William: The mission is over, true. I just haven’t submitted the report yet.

Kate: But why–

William: I was thinking of adding a recommendation to this report. I think that the queen’s aide should go inspect this site personally.

Kate: So that means…

William: What a keen little robin.

With a satisfied, mischievous grin, William picked up a pen and scribbled in a line at the end of the report.

William: On Victor’s birthday, we’ll send him on a fake mission to force him to take some time off. William: However, if we left it at just that, he’d probably suspect something was going on. That’s where you come in.

Kate: Right.

William: Join him on this fake assignment and discreetly make sure he gets some rest. William: This is a mission only you can complete. Will you accept?

Seeing William’s sly smirk, I felt my own mouth quirking into a smile.

Kate: Leave it to me!

And so began the plan to get Victor to rest and relax for his birthday.

...

Victor: Kate, what’s the matter?

Kate: N-Nothing!

It was now the day of Victor’s birthday. I couldn’t help but fret about keeping the plan secret.

(I have to be really careful not to let anything show on my face.) (But how much can I really fool Victor… he’s really observant…)

We were in a small suburban town close to London. Walking side by side with Victor, I ran over William’s plan in my head.

(It’s good that we were able to plan together until the last minute.)

William wasn’t with us today, but he’d placed the order for the cake and food, along with helping out with a lot of other small details.

(He said, “I leave the rest to you,” so that means I need to do my best!)

I was filled with a renewed determination to carry out my part to get Victor to rest.

Victor: You look like you’re raring to go today.

Kate: Well, it’s been so long since we were on a mission together.

My heart began to pick up, and my next words left me in a rush.

(But, none of it is a lie.)

Kate: Even if it’s just for a mission, I’m really happy we can spend time together like this.

Victor was always so busy. So even being able to do something simple like this was enough to lift my mood.

Victor: I hardly ever get the chance to leave London. So even if it is just a mission, I’m glad for the opportunity. Victor: The fact that it’s with you just makes it all the better.

Stopping in the street, Victor extended a hand towards me while bowing his head slightly in my direction.

Victor: Shall we make the most of this chance?

Victor smiled happily.

Victor: For the whole day, as much as possible, I’d like it if you didn’t let go of my hand.

Equally surprised and pleased by Victor’s words, I felt my mouth curving into a smile. My own hand reached out.

Kate: Gladly.

Our hands overlapped, palm to palm.

Victor: Let’s set off, my dearest robin.

[drabbletron]

Walk Me Through It: Hound x Reader Smut

|| So glad I could finally post some smut for this guy, and just in time for Valentine's Day!! This one's for you @hoiststowline! For making me fall in love with this green to-good-for-this-world mech! Thanks a bunches!! ||

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

"Oh, darlin’ you look so beautiful like this, and you’re taking my spike so well. Just a little more, can you do that for me?”

With Hound's gentle coaching you slide farther and farther down his spike and the stretch is almost too much. Each node rubs and presses against your walls just so, and you can't help the pleasured haze that falls over your mind. It's just the way you imagined taking him would feel like. All those nights of him dancing through your mind couldn't compare to having him finally inside you to ease that dull, persisting ache.

“That's what I like to see,” Hound purrs when you finally bottom out. He gives you plenty of time to adjust while a servo lazily circles your clit, hoping to stimulate you to make more lubricant. It can't be easy taking all of him, even with the prep he put you through and the mass displacement.

“Hold on now, I'm going to start moving.”

Hound effortlessly lifts you up his spike before gently bringing you back down again slowly, very, very slowly. He's not sure what he'd do if he actually hurt you so he's sure to keep a close watch on your face for any signs of discomfort. All you can do is whimper and mewl as he keeps an even pace.

Eventually those noises break away to deep, pleasured hums and groans.

“Is this good?”

Your head falls back in response as he slowly lets you take control back to bounce on him, your pace spryer than his. Still his servos never fully leave you, cupping your thighs to support you.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Hound struggles to keep his vocalizer even. You're just too damn pretty using his spike like you are. Light sweat covers your skin, and your eyes are heavy lidded and glazed over as if in a daze; You're so blissed out, and he can't believe that he's the one making you feel like that. Can't believe that you'd share something so intimate with him as your bare body. It's sweet.

Your head is empty as you brace yourself on his chassis to change the pace from restless bouncing to hedonistic grinding. Every part of you wants to touch every part of him and your undulations connect your bodies just right, keep that knot in your abdomen tight in all the right ways, that you hardly register all the moaning and groaning you’re doing. With your head so far away, you barely hear Hound's encouragement.

“How’s a mech supposed to last with you making noises like that?” he laughs. That gentle sound as he rearranges your insides has you seeing stars, and you look at him like he put the sun in the sky. How that love snared look will forever be burned into his processor.

“Keep sayin’ my name like that and I'm going to overload, darlin’,” he vents almost in warning, or maybe in a soft threat. This was supposed to be a gentle love affair. His and your first time without the holomatter avatar was meant to be sweet and slow, but the way things are looking now, with how you're chanting his name and begging him not to stop, it makes it hard to not roll you both over so he can show you all that he can do.

"Oh, you sound so sweet," I could spark you right now!

That last part he'd never say out loud. At least not until much later in the relationship if you'd ever have that conversation with him.

Focus Hound. This isn't about you, right now. They need you to take care of them!

Deep in thought he almost misses the faint tremor of your insides before you curl in on yourself and your walls clamp down hard on his spike.

"I know, sweetspark" Hound coos when your orgasms finally crashes over you. "Just ride it out, now. There we go, you're doin' great, love!"

His servos glide over your sides and down your thighs and back to soothe your trembling body. Each wave that shoots through you, that has you trembling against his frame, becomes that much more blissful with his servos all over you. He keeps you close to him as he rolls his hips softly up into you. Over and over until he gently overloads into your core with a groan of your name.

"I bet that feels better now, doesn’t it?"

You dumbly nod your head where it rests against his chassis.

"I’m glad I could help, love."

[khorneschosen]

Have you ever heard the famous quote that which can be expressed without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.

I don't have a reply because my reply would be that this was off topic one two that it does not directly deal with my argument and three within the context of this could be just swept a side as irrelevant to our current conversation.

So in short your card form of argumentation is invalid but hey there was a point found in that. So I'll answer it just to let you.

And then I had to ask myself the question is it really possible to argue to you that perhaps what you're seeing through your very very I'm sure very objective media buys is not very rational because the one question is when you consider his past run and how he picked people and his current run it seems like he's picking people willing to bear the slings and arrows alongside him which was a major flaw and the people he picked last time.

Most people had to deal with your peoples insanity and decided fuck it I don't want to have to deal with this. But thankfully you guys have canceled so many people that there is a bond to be had by the fact that so many are already automatically hated.

As such for our purposes it's a great pic he's picking people he knows he can trust considering that we're dealing with a low trust situation.

For example when the FBI went after the mob they picked people who were not good people make no mistake they had problems of their own many problems many illegal problems. But this made them all the more loyal because one thing that the mob liked to do and was very good at doing was buying disloyalty.

Do you recognize this perspective to be valid do you recognize this perspective to be true can an unseen eye see the truth I don't think so hence why I didn't say it then.

So then I ask again how do you think this plays out what is your game plan here or you just flailing and hoping to God something hits because you don't actually understand any of us. Me least of all because I'm the grass that bends the other way even within this community and others. I'm a good old-fashioned freak in politics who kind of loves how the great game is played.

Or do you never plan that far ahead with anyone I want you to understand I'm going to be the toughest opponent that my kind can bring out for you because I listen to clearly and understand too much and what I get from you is a severe ignorance about the opposition because you have been taught badly how to understand your opposition your methodology is flawed

How fucking insane is U.S. politics when there are people out there defending the politicians who are stealing their tax dollars

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Skinnamarinkstump Linkdump

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me TODAY (Feb 15) for a virtual event with YANIS VAROUFAKIS, and on MONDAY (Feb 17) for an event at KEPLER'S in MENLO PARK with CHARLIE JANE ANDERS. More tour dates here.

It's Saturday and I'm on a book tour, and the world is in chaos, and there are more links to write about than I could fit in to this week's newsletter, so time for a cubic linkdump, the 27th such:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

Let's start with the best thing I saw all week: a 3D-printed, spring-loaded, clockwork chess pawn that uses a magnet to sense when it has reached the end of the board and SPROING! turns into a queen:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSOnnle3zbA

The whole video is a fascinating account of the design process, from idea to prototype to finished item, but if you're impatient and want to skip right to the eyeball kick, it's at 12:27-12:35. And if you want to print your own, the files are $12 (cheap!):

https://www.patreon.com/WorksByDesign/shop/queen-pawn-3d-printing-files-614491?source=storefront

Regrettably, not every tech project is a good one. This week, Google abandoned its AI ethics pledge. Unlike most AI ethics pledge, which are full of nonsense about not accidentally creating a vengeful god that turns the human race into paperclips, Google's AI pledge was actually very important, in that the company promised not to make AI that violates human rights, international law, or privacy. There comes a point where harping on Google's abandoned "don't be evil" motto can feel a little hacky, but in this case, I'll make an exception. My EFF colleague Matthew Guariglia tears Google a much-deserved new AIhole over this latest heel turn:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2025/02/google-wrong-side-history

Not all bad technology is evil. Some of it is merely very, very stupid. How stupid? Check out Thom Dunn's Wirecutter review of The Heatbit Trio, a space-heater that uses Bitcoin-mining GPUs to generate some of its heat, very slightly offsetting the cost of warming your room – but at a rate that would take decades to recoup the $700 price-tag. Thom got some spicy quotes from Molly White for this one – possibly the first time she's been cited in a home appliance review:

https://www.nytimes.com/wirecutter/reviews/heatbit-space-heater-review/

Staying with crypto freaks for a moment here, Adam Levitin dissects the cryptocurrency "industry"'s latest chorus of aggrieved whining over "debanking":

https://www.creditslips.org/creditslips/2025/02/debanked-by-the-market.html

As Levitin writes, banks aren't kicking cryptocurrency "companies" off their books because the government wants to punish them. Banks have a very good reason to want to avoid doing business with high-dollar scams that have highly correlated implosions, which is to say, times when everyone wants their money back from the cryptocurrency "company" the bank is handling charges for. For a longer explanation that gets into the nitty gritty of bank supervision, check out Patio11's excellent, detailed explainer:

https://www.bitsaboutmoney.com/archive/debanking-and-debunking/

As all the real heads know, "crypto means cryptography," and cryptographers continue to contrive privacy marvels. This week, Kagi – the best search engine, a million times better than Google – released a Privacy Pass authentication plugin, which lets you login to Kagi and run searches without Kagi being able to connect any of the searches you make with your account:

https://blog.kagi.com/kagi-privacy-pass

As an sf/crime writer who sometimes (often) searches for information on committing ghastly crimes and 'orrible murders, the fact that my favorite search engine will be technically incapable of tying those searches to my identity is quite a relief. Read my review of Kagi here:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

If you're one of those marvel-contriving hackers, cryptographers, security researchers or tinkerers, you should really consider attending this summer's Hackers on Planet Earth (HOPE), 2600 Magazine's (now) annual (formerly biennial) hacker con. They've just posted their CFP – get those submission in!

https://www.hope.net/cfp-talks.html

Well, I have to post this and get ready for this morning's virtual book tour event with Yanis Varoufakis:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkIDep7Z4LM

But before I go, one more link: Kevin Steele's 2005 essay on Hypercard, "When Multimedia Was Black & White," an absolute classic, and a beautiful meditation on the art and promise of early hypertext:

https://web.archive.org/web/20240213190609/http://www.kevinsteele.com/smackerel/black_white_00.html

I've known Kevin for most of my life, long before he helped found Mackerel, the pioneering Toronto multimedia company. Long after Mackerel, Kevin went on making wonderful things. In 2023, he published a monumental act of portraiture – a "sequential art" time-series of panoramas of Toronto's hip, ever-changing Queen Street West strip:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/13/spadina-to-bathurst/#dukes-cycle

Comparing Kevin's more recent work with that lovely old essay reveals deep correspondences and the progress of a unique and creative soul.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/15/intermixture/#debunking-debanking

[deadhands69]

Cute When You Stutter

loser!Shigaraki x gn/afab Reader

prev ◁ part 4 ▷ next

[series masterlist]

You wake-up comfortably in your own bed, unsure of how you got home. You’re still wearing your clothes from last night while your shoes are thrown haphazardly on the floor next to you. With your head pounding, you tap your phone to see what time it is. It's no use, the battery’s dead.

After laying perfectly still for a while doesn’t help, you press yourself out of bed and stumble down the hallway to get some water. Shigaraki is already in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Toga watches from the dining room table.

“You look like death,” he mumbles while grabbing a mug for you. There’s a huge purple mark on his neck that you vaguely remember giving him. Of course, he’s not even bothering to cover it. Kurogiri eyes you as he passes through the room cleaning.

Your mouth barely opens to ask Shigaraki how you got home last night, but he cuts you off.

“I have to run some errands,” he says before handing you your morning drink and rushing out the door, “see you guys.”

You take a seat at the table across from Toga.

“So, you’re dating Tomura now, right?” she asks, her big hazel eyes staring over the table at you. “You’re the one that gave him the-”

“No, we aren’t dating,” you dismiss quickly. 

“Does Tomura know that? I’ve never seen him do nice things for anyone else before noon. He's not a morning person.”

He's not a people person any time of day you want to add, but you see her point. 

“I think he knows,” you muse, “I mean, I specifically asked him to pretend to be dating me so there’s no reason for him to think we’re together for real. I think he’s smart enough to know the difference.”

“Oh,” she hums. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’d be really cute together.”

After a few glasses of water, some food, and a shower, you’re feeling a lot better. Through your shared wall, you hear Tomura get back to his room. Willing yourself out of bed, you make your way to his door, knocking once before entering as usual. He sees you and panics slightly, trying to hide a large box under his desk.

“I’m not here to make fun of you for buying legos. That’s actually kind of cool,” you say, gesturing to the expensive-looking set under his desk. “I just don’t remember last night and have some questions.”

“Wait,” he rubs the hickey on his neck, “you don’t remember anything?”

“I remember that, don’t worry,” he exhales in relief. “I don’t remember how I got home though, or really anything after we left the bathroom.”

“I took you home,” he states matter of factly.

“How,” you ask, “I could barely even walk.”

“I carried you,” he looks at you like it’s the most obvious thing ever. Looking him over, you’re slightly surprised he managed to lift you at all, let alone get you all the way home and into your bed. You’ve seen the way he moves during missions though. And in spite of how skinny he is, you can see that he’s at least somewhat toned under his clothes. Maybe it’s not that shocking.

“And,” you continue, feeling suddenly self conscious, “did I do anything…stupid?”

He glances to his crotch and back at you, still unsure if you remember everything. 

“I mean after that.”

“No,” he says casually. “Before we left, you told your friends to fuck off and said something to your ex that I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, he didn’t look too happy about it.”

Oh, just that.

Seeing the mortified look on your face, he adds, “they deserved it though, they were being assholes.”

“Got it,” you say quickly, dreading the moment your phone turns on filled with messages from them. He has a point though. In the first good decision you’ve made all in a while, you decide you’ll just block them and move on. Maybe it's the exhaustion talking but none of it feels worth it anymore. After the week you’ve had it feels like a massive weight off your shoulders. You sit on Shigaraki’s bed, burying your face in your hands. You're oddly comfortable in his room, even if it is messy. It’s a feeling you never noticed yourself having before; being here with him and not wanting to be anywhere else.

“Thanks,” you look up to smile awkwardly at him, “I feel like I owe you.”

“For walking you home?” he scoffs, “how else would you have gotten here?”

“I mean, for everything.” 

“Oh, it’s not a big deal,” he grumbles.

“It is for me,” you say, noticing the way his cheeks flush as he stares down at his hands. “Come here.”

Hesitantly, he moves onto the bed next to you. His big red eyes widen as you take your shorts off and climb onto his lap. Grinding against him, you feel him harden in his sweatpants almost instantly. His hands come to your hips, pinky and ring fingers held up as he grips the side of your underwear. He looks even prettier than usual at this angle. The hair falling in front of his face frames the bottom of his nose and mouth. 

You’ve been pretty worked up this week, especially with everything you’ve done with Tomura, so it doesn’t take long before you’re close. Grabbing his shirt you pull yourself into him harder to increase the friction. It works. You softly gasp in his ear, finding that he was very close as well. His fingers dig into your skin as he groans, biting your shoulder. Eyes still clenched shut, he wraps his arms around you to steady himself.

A wet spot forms at the top of his pants as he catches his breath.

That’s okay.

You shove him back onto the blankets. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he watches as you slide your damp underwear off, throwing them on the floor nearby. His arms lay limply over his head as you climb over him, pressing each of his wrists into the bed.

Once more, his breathing quickens when he realizes you’re hovering over his face. It’s cute watching him get so worked up over you.

Smoothly, you lower to sit on his face, noticing that even the dry parts of his skin feel soft against you. He lets out a muffled whine. His chapped lips open, tongue desperately exploring wherever he can reach. It’s sloppy, but that doesn’t matter. This is what you've wanted all week and you're finally getting it: Tomura a bumbling mess under you, working hard to get you off. You find a tempo that works for you as you take the friction you can get from his face. 

The wet sound of you sliding over him and your moans fill the room, punctured occasionally by his stifled gasps. You’d be more self conscious of the pornographic noises that you know can be heard from the hall, but you’re too busy chasing your own high for the first time all week. Everyone in the league knows what you're doing by now anyways.

Angling forward, you rut over him a few more times before pressing hard against his mouth. His tongue dips into you, teeth nudging your clit. Everything that’s built up all week comes out at once, feeling like fire coursing through your veins. You feel his lips grow more slick against you as you ride out your orgasm on him. You gushing over his face pushes him over the edge too, hips stuttering behind you as he whimpers into your lips.

As you climb off his bed to go get cleaned up, you admire your work. His face is drenched with you, still-tented sweatpants wet with his own cum, and he looks like he’s about to pass out from exhaustion. He really is pretty like this.

For the first time, you find yourself wanting to stay.

next - series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @kalulakunundrum @jimabbenamara @aryuunachigiri

@badbclub (threw you in here too after i saw your post!)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can we pleasee have more yandere father stein content??

Yandere Father Stein (2)

The fic it started with | Headcannons

“Are you ready?”

“To kill you after you’ve beaten up my boyfriend for no reason? Very much so!”

“Uh, Professor and (Y/n) the rules for training today is to not seriously hurt each other.”

“...You should make use of the new upgrades I made to your key.”

“Shut it, old man!”

“Alright and start!”

On the level of combat, you’re unique but not all that different from your father

Able to wield your own version of soul force with mechanical upgrades to your actual person

You charge first sending a violent punch in his direction 

Dodging swiftly, he takes the opening to produce a soul force into your back

Maka, Soul, Kid, Kate, Liz, Tsubaki and Black Star cringe having seen this move before 

Fully expecting to hear you scream and writhe like them

But alas you do not instead you take advantage of his pause to latch onto his screw slamming his head into the ground

You don’t wait for him to get out of the crater, folding your palms together and bringing them down

“Soul Strike!” 

A purple flash of light goes out as you slam into his back 

You don’t get another hit in before he’s gotten up again and is running across the desert

Of course, you follow, your fist turning into an open palm, the output of your soul wavelength is immense and everyone watching can tell that this could be fatal for any normal person

Maka tries to intervene but you’re already inches away from stabbing Stein

“(Y/n) wait–!”

Only for it all to stop 

Your eyes dull and mid-lunge you crumble right into Stein’s chest

“Slightly delayed reaction, otherwise good results.”

With ease, he picks up the unconscious you 

Hardly struggling with one hand he puts a cigarette in his mouth and lights it

“What just happened!?”

“I guess this ends in a…win for Stein?”

Kid is the only one who seems to know what happened and he’s very mad about it

“That is foul play! Using whatever ‘upgrades’ you made against them!”

Stein scoffs, “Don’t get upset. They should know better than to let their key get dislodged in a fight.”

He casually walks back into the city leaving the others to get back on their own

Looking down at you, he can’t help but compare it to the memories of your youth

Small and reckless it was always a joy to be able to turn the key in your chest to send you to sleep

Of course he wasn’t the only one who realized this 

“Papa I made friends!”

You used to be so small

“With them over there! They love ma cookin’!”

“Do they?”

“Yup!”

“Figures they are rats. (Y/n)...have you been pulling out the key on your chest lately?”

“Mmm no.”

“I see so you’ve discovered what lying is.”

“What’s lying?”

“What you just did. Tell me where is it?”

“Mmm I don’t know.”

“Well if you don’t want to miss seeing your friends tomorrow better find it. Other wise you’ll be sleeping while I make a new one.”

“I–well…I think I know where it is…wait here!”

As he once again situates you on his operating table the monitor quietly displays your vitals, he wonders how he could be the parent of such a rebel

A monitor rings out, a wall of TVs all for their respective cameras showing 

And on one continuing into the other is the student with black hair and white stripes hopping his fence

“Why is it that even at this age they continue to attract rats? I’ll just have to deal with it...like last time.”

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

full discloser: I do not have ADHD, so if anything I wrote turned out to be inaccurate, let me know! I used this as a resource.

if you like my work, please consider commissioning me :)

Doey & Player with ADHD

★ Doey helps the player stay organized by creating fun and engaging systems. Whether it's color-coded lists, visual schedules, or giving you reminders. He really likes doing these things for you because it's actually really fun for him.

★ His approach can be childish at times. Turning something into a silly game to keep you motivated. "Let's see who can finish sweeping their half of the floor first! Ready, set, go!"

★ If you were on any medication for ADHD, you would be going through withdrawal by now. Withdrawal from any medication you've been taking for a while can feel like hell. As the symptoms start to show, Doey notices.

★ To help manage the withdrawal symptoms, Doey offers some distractions. Whether it's reading a book, telling stories, or trying to keep your mind calm by doing some breathing strategies he learnd to control his temper.

★ When the player talks fast, Doey listens intently and keeps up with their rapid speech. He finds their excitement contagious and feeds off it. He even matches the player's energy when they talk loudly, as long as it's not happening somewhere it could attract unwanted attention.

★ If you were the type to overshare sometimes, Doey is a patient and tries to be a non-judgmental listener. He knows out that oversharing is a way for the people to connect and feel understood, it's something he figured out with the younger children long ago.

★ Doey validates the player's emotions and lets them know that the Safe Haven is a place were for the player can express themselves freely. "This is a safe space. Feel free to share anything! just... try not to give anyone nightmares. Okay?"

★ When something happens and you don't really know how to feel about it, he gives you time to process your feelings. Never rushing you to respond or react. Sometimes he needs time to think things over too.

[yara0546]

Nctdream and how they would react to being asked about idol!reader in a interview pls? :))

Nct dream reaction When they ask them about you (idol) in an Interview

Pairing: nct dream x idol reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy.

Note : English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any grammatical errors, because I sometimes use a translator in some sentences.

Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

Mark

Mark shifts in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck with a small chuckle. He knows this question is coming but still wasn’t fully prepared for it.

Mark: “Oh yeah! She’s really talented. I mean, everyone knows that, right? Her stage presence is insane, and I have a lot of respect for her as an artist.”

The interviewer presses, “You two seem to have a good friendship. Have you worked together behind the scenes?”

Mark blinks a few times, trying to choose his words carefully.

Mark: “Uh… yeah, we’ve hung out a couple of times with mutual friends. She’s a great person really down to earth.”

Renjun smirks beside him, whispering, “That’s all?” Mark coughs awkwardly and quickly sips his water.

Renjun

Renjun leans back with a knowing smile, clearly expecting the question.

Renjun: “Oh, y/n ? Yeah, she’s amazing. Super hardworking and really passionate about music. You can see it in everything she does.”

The interviewer tilts their head. “You seem to know a lot about her.”

Renjun chuckles, pretending to look away.

Renjun: “What? No, no, I just… pay attention to talented people.”

Chenle snickers beside him, whispering, “Or just to her?” Renjun kicks his shin under the table.

Jeno

Jeno stays quiet at first, letting the others answer, but when the interviewer directs the question at him, he just nods.

Jeno: “She’s great. Very professional and cool on stage.”

The interviewer probes, “You’ve been spotted at the same events before. Do you know her well?”

Jeno’s fingers lightly tap on the table as he keeps his response short and sweet.

Jeno: “We’ve met a few times. She’s really nice.”

Haechan leans in with a grin. “Is that all? Because I remember someone watching all her performances.”

Jeno side-eyes him but doesn’t deny it, just shaking his head with a small smile.

Haechan

Haechan immediately grins and leans forward, making a show of it.

Haechan: “Ohhhh, y/n ? Don’t even get me started. She’s amazing her voice, her energy, her visuals. Honestly, I might be her biggest fan.”

The interviewer laughs, “Biggest fan? That’s a big claim.”

Haechan places a hand over his chest.

Haechan: “I mean it! If she ever needs a backup dancer or duet partner, I’m just saying I’m available.”

Jaemin sighs. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Haechan: “It’s called confidence.”

Jaemin

Jaemin smirks slightly, tilting his head as he listens. When it’s his turn, he simply hums before answering.

Jaemin: “She’s… interesting.”

The interviewer laughs. “Interesting? That’s all?”

Jaemin shrugs, his playful smile never fading.

Jaemin: “She’s incredibly talented and has a strong presence. You can’t help but notice her.”

The way he says it makes everyone suspicious. Chenle leans in. “Are you hiding something?”

Jaemin just winks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Chenle

Chenle nods enthusiastically.

Chenle: “She’s cool! Her performances are always solid, and she’s got a great personality too.”

The interviewer smiles. “You seem pretty familiar with her.”

Chenle grins. “Yeah, she’s fun. We’ve talked a bit, and she’s super nice.”

Haechan gasps dramatically. “Wait, is Chenle actually being nice? This must mean something!”

Chenle rolls his eyes. “I just recognize talent when I see it.”

Jisung

Jisung blinks, caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting the question and hesitates before speaking.

Jisung: “Uh… yeah, she’s really cool.”

The interviewer chuckles. “You seem shy about this.”

Jisung scratches his ear, looking at his hyungs for help.

Jisung: “I mean, she’s a great performer. I respect her a lot.”

Haechan nudges him. “Just say you have a crush already.”

Jisung turns red. “What?! I didn’t say that!”