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something-fanfiction-ie · 5 years ago

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The Years

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.

A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!

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“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.

“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”

A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.

Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.

When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.

“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”

Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.

“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.

“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.

“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”

“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.

“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”

“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.

“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.

“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.

“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”

It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.

“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”

It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.

The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.

Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.

The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.

It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.

The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.

No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.

“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.

“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.

You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.

But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.

“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.

“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.

“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.

Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.

“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”

From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.

“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.

“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”

“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.

“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.

“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.

“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.

“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.

“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.

“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.

“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.

“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.

“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.

“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.

“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.

“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.

The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.

“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.

“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.

You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.

“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.

“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.

You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.

When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.

He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.

“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.

As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.

By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.

Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.

“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.

Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.

Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.

“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.

“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.

“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.

The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.

It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.

Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.

As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.

“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.

“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.

“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.

Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.

The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.

His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.

“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.

He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?

You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.

Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.

Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.

Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.

“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.

The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.

“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.

“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.

“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.

“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.

Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.

His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”

If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.

“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”

You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.

“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.

“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.

On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.

By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.

“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.

Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.

“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.

“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.

The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.

“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.

“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.

He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.

Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.

He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.

You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.

“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.

But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.

“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.

“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.

He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.

There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.

Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.

Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.

“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.

His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.

“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.

Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.

Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.

When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.

The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.

That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.

He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.

From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.

His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.

“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.

In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.

Oh boy, were you in trouble.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spence reid #dr spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds smut #smut

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demonslayedher · 4 years ago

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Your content on Kny is interesting, being a Kny fan I would like to share a cusiority. During the final battle did you notice that the Hashira were passive about the death of some? When Shinobu died only Tanjiro had a reaction because of how busy he was; Mitsuri didn't seem sad and when Iguro remembered who died in the middle of the final battle he didn't even mention her. What did you think? It would have been nice if Gotouge had shown us what the Hashira's thought when the others died

[cont.] I'm the anonymous person who asked you the question about the Hashira who fell in the fight, Tumblr makes people write very little. Apart from Tanjiro they seemed cold to me, even for Tokito; the only one affected was Himejima; when always Iguro mentioned him during the clash with Muzan it was like he was thinking normally. There wasn't time to mourn for the dead but I was expecting a slightly deeper reaction. Anyway for Shinobu yes there was Inosuke and Kanao but the pillars are important too

Thank you for the Ask, time to get into it! This served as a good excuse to flip back through of a lot of the later volumes... or rather, a huge chunk of the series. Short Answer: I don’t think Mitsuri knew about Shinobu’s death. Longer Answer: A walk-through of the Pillars’ situations in the final showdown and a partial analysis of Kimetsu-style story pacing.

Disclaimer: I finished this around 2am. I chose to leave it rambling and unedited and typo-ridden. HAVE MY FEELS, I’M DISHING THEM.

(Disclaimer: This isn’t meant to be a plug for my own fics, but since they are born out of my emotional experience of canon, mentions will make their way in. U fu fu.) First, absolutely yes on there being no time to mourn. From the moment the Ubuyashiki Mansion blows up in volume 16 to the actual end of the fighting in volume 23, that is one hell of a night; this final arc(s) had NO CHILL. Like, wow. It’s been a long time since I followed another battle-driven manga, but that seems like a lot, especially for a relatively short series. And I was initially happy to dismiss all the lack of satisfying sadness as being due to the fact that they are in *PANIC MODE* and entirely focused on fighting, but that is also not necessarily the case; they do come off slightly cold. I want to touch a bit on what we want to see the characters mourn each other, but also why I think it works out a bit better that we didn’t; from a purely narrative standpoint. LET THEM BE SAD: Parasocial Needs Science says we form bonds with fictional characters that affect our brains in very similar and impactful ways, so our feelings are legit when they get killed off. It affects us like a breakup or other goodbye and makes us crave closure. As for my own assumptions, we look for proxy characters in-universe to give those characters we love the attention we wish to; their sadness validates our sadness, watching them get emotional can be super cathartic, and a good mourning arc can provide satisfying closure. This is something we got with Rengoku, canonically loved by like, everyone. Hell, even the guy who killed him was sad. Just to rub salt into it, the most recent fanbook that includes a section about how the Pillars see each other, and it drives home that even if we never saw much or any canon interaction between him and any other given character, they’re all like, “Oh yeah, Rengoku, he’s a great guy.” And, he’s the only character we really get space to mourn, pacing-wise. First, because of when it happens in the plot, this gives the story time to show us each and everyone one of the Pillars hearing the news; it gives them times to process it (which Tokitou clearly needed), and most of us, it takes us in depth through how it affects Tanjirou, our main character whose emotions that we, the readers, are most in touch with. Rengoku got star treatment in the way he was mourned, and we readers get to lap that up. So then when we don’t get that in-universe star mourning treatment, it does feel a bit jarring by comparison. Gotouge did say she was sorry to hurt everyone, but these are the conditions the little humans were up against all along and a point driven home again and again; even with power on par with demons through the attainment of a mark; even Pillars are just breakable humans who will never be able to regenerate like demons can, hence why their stakes are so much higher in every battle they go into. Furthermore, the Pillars are more ready for this than anyone else, they of all the characters would be the best at keeping their emotions in check in the heat of a battle. Which means they had to keep them in check for seven volumes of near constant battle, love it or hate it. KIMETSU LOGIC: The Writing Sins That Make This Manga What It Is I could go on and on and on and on about the writing sins this manga commits and how it shows that it’s Gotouge’s first time writing something of this length. In manga not all of it can be blamed on the author alone because the editors have a very significant influence, but yeah, this is not the most amazingly crafted story out there, by a long shot. Would I change any of it, though? Well, a few things, yes, of course, out of personal preference. But on the whole, no. It’s the collective errors that stamp KnY with its style and make it what it is, and I find it as endearing as all the randomly super goofy art. Now, when it comes to the lack of Pillars reacting to new of each others’ deaths, I wouldn’t necessarily classify that itself as a fault, and if I were Gotouge’s editor, I probably would have encouraged her to keep it to a minimum too. After all, I would be considered with selling a new shot of tension with every week’s installment to keep any readers from getting bored with the constant battle. And dang it, THAT TENSION WAS HIGH, those battles were remarkably emotional and tense through and through. The breaks in tension that we got were necessarily and not distracting, with the notable exception of Iguro’s past. That was clumsy placement. I’ll be honest, I didn’t bond with Iguro as much as a character because he lost his earlier chances to be appealing to me, and by the time the chapter with his flashback came out, I DIDN’T CARE, I waited anxiously all week to see what was happening to Tanjiro and was invested enough to have an appetite for the additional Sumiyoshi and Yoriichi bits, but dang it, Snake Pillar was getting in the way of what my emotions were primed for at that point. But, such is the way of fickle weekly readers; with THAT MUCH tension going on, readers crave a little breather here and there with a look at who else might taking in a breather in a flashback. We got bits and pieces of that mostly through flashback, like Tamayo’s memories of conversation with Shinobu experienced in real time through Muzan, as well as in-real-time moments with the characters having very slight chances to catch their breath (no pun intended). But, how well those breaths worked depending on each character, and how the readers’ emotions were getting slammed week to week. Just like how I as a weekly reader (by that point) had no appetite for an Iguro flashback while eager to move forward, there likewise would have been limited appetite for mourning, and we’re stuck with who we got as proxy characters to react through. ACTION, REACTION: The Rhythm of Basic Writing Advice It has often been said that in writing, something should happen in a scene, and the next scene should be a reaction to it. In the next scene something new happens, and likewise, there is a reaction. We could also thing of this as stages within the same scene, like the part when the music changes or the moment the battle has ended but we’re still on the battlefield. In Rengoku’s case, we got one big happening, and then a whole lot of reaction drizzled through the story after that. In the Infinity Fortress case, we get a big happening with the Ubuyashiki Mansion blowing up and then--a big happening!--a big happening!--a big happening--! A--uh oh, there’s a reactio---NEVERMIND, THINGS ARE STILL HAPPENING, GOTOUGE, PLEASE, THIS HURTS, OW, OW, HOW ARE YOU SO CRUEL, WE GET IT, THIS SITUATION IS AWFUL, PLEASE STOP HURTING THEM---

The reactions are there, scattered throughout. They’re short, but they sure make themselves count. While Tanjirou is our Empathy Personified hero, it’s natural that we get more of his reactions, but the lack of them in other characters is, I would say, a natural fault of having a huge cast to work with it. Once you start dragging too many other characters into the reactions, the actions have trouble moving forward, and with the level of seven volumes worth of tension it’s the actions that keep readers hooked and buying magazines. THEY’RE ONLY CORVIDS, OK: Now We’re Actually Looking At Canon Details Now that all being said, although it’s easy to dismiss a lot of Kimetsu Logic as amateurish at first, on further reflection, the little worldbuilding logic does excuse itself for not plunging each of the characters into a period of reaction to actions happening elsewhere. Not all the birds had Yushiro’s papers. Not all birds were created equal. It’s really hard to navigate that place. Ergo, communication was probably highly imperfect; not all the crows knew everything going on. We don’t feel that as readers because we’re seeing Kiriya and his sisters get all the available communications. In Iguro and Mitsuri’s case in particular, I suspect that might not even had been Mitsuri’s crow (as that one has a distinct personality and accessory) giving her orders to gather where Muzan is. It was probably any old down-to-business crow working with the information it had as clearly as it could in the battle that was most difficult to physically navigate. If Mitsuri’s crow (named Urara in the most recent fanbook) had been there, I imagine she’d have been having difficulty that whole time to even stay within a close range of that battle. Furthermore, a crow like that with a strong bond with Mitsuri might had also judged that telling her about Shinobu’s death was a dangerous distraction, and chosen to withhold information. The fanbook specifies that Iguro’s crow Yuuan was the one who told him about how Tokitou got a red blade (in fact, this is basically the only thing said of this crow besides its name and gender). To able to report in such detail that Iguro could analyze that Tokitou attained the red blade by the strength of his grip, that probably quite an accomplishment to have either witnessed that much, or to pass on crucial information that detailed and quickly. At that time, Iguro and Mitsuri were physically separated and she was distracted by the crow giving her orders to gather where Muzan was, so she might not even have overheard that Tokitou had died. As for Iguro, the second fanbook tells us that because Tokitou was young he had hoped he wouldn’t die. There was no opportunity to mourn him, and they weren’t close enough for that to throw him off much from battle, but on a Pillar to Pillar level, I think the amount of thought Iguro did dedicated to Tokitou showed a certain level of esteem for him and regret at this passing. What would have been nice? Maybe a little look over his shoulder to Mitsuri like “I hope she didn’t hear that.” That would have revealed a tender side of Iguro in a very short use of panels. I want to come back to analyzing Mitsuri’s reaction later, so let’s keep focusing on the loss of Tokitou. Once he attained more of his sense of self back, it seems he preferred the company of Corp Members closed to him in age (if we go by his little flashbacks, which in true Kimetsu Logic, are things we didn’t know about until they come up in flashbacks). Most of the Pillars weren’t especially close with him, even if they did care about his wellbeing, as they seemed particular aware of how young he was. Sanemi probably had never interacted much with Tokitou until that battle, and *OKAY, HERE IT IS, THE UPCOMING FANFIC SELF-PLUG* one of the things I really liked working with in my post-canon fic is that there’s a point at which thinking about Tokitou forces Sanemi to deal with all the trauma he’s buried from that battle. I figure it would hit him later; he had a good excuse of a distraction. Ugh. Man. My heart hurts again thinking of that chapter. Let’s also not forget, after Himejima showed his respects for Tokitou both quickly and sincerely, he couldn’t allow Sanemi to deal with Genya’s death until after everything was over. All the Pillars had to think like this. What would had been nice? I liked this reaction scene to two simultaneous and horrific deaths exactly as it was. Ow. Ahhhh. Owwwwww, it’s hurting again. This is catharsis exactly the way I like it. Let’s keep going with Himejima, the only one to have known to expect all this, and who stayed ready and likely hoped to bring down Muzan all by himself without any other sacrifices (welp, so much for that). There’s a scene in the novels that implies he had some idea that Shinobu wasn’t intending to make it out of the upcoming battle(s) alive, and I imagine he felt the same regret and bitter acceptance in advance that he also felt with Ubuyashiki. If we heard the news about Shinobu like Tanjirou and Giyuu did, I imagine he was hurt but it wouldn’t have been noticeable, and he probably would not be surprised even at how quickly it happened. What would had been nice? Anything. Just a “How pitiful” and some tears as he runs through the halls woulda’ been great. So since Giyuu did hear it loud and clear with Tanjirou, I first want to point out that whether that was Tanjirou’s crow or not (might not had been, because his crow was busy with a letter delivery from Senjurou at the time too), that crow must had loved to shared details; maybe even details that were not necessary. Like, would telling the lower level Corp members everything really help? Wouldn’t the loss of each Pillar make them lose their nerve? Was it because that crow was wearing one of Yushiro’s papers that it had to report extra detail for Ubuyashiki HQ? Whatever the case, Giyuu is initially shocked about Shinobu and then is like, “what is that paper the crow has? It sure is reporting things fast.” What would have been nice? ANYTHING MORE THAN ONE PANEL OF SHOCK. Come on, Giyuu, give the GiyuuShino shippers S O M E T H I N G. Granted, if Tanjirou had been killed in battle with Akaza, I believe Giyuu would have had an initial outburst of emotion, but then gotten himself under control real quick and stayed that way until it was safe to break down (which he did immediately later on, since the threat was gone--but he was just as soon picking up a sword and stabbing him, so again, Pillar-mode must come before experiencing emotions). I interpret canon as that even though Giyuu might had found it easily to address Shinobu in conversation due to frequency in how much they had conversed and the fact that she would usually talk to him first, he would never had considered himself especially close with her (since he never saw himself close with any of the Pillars). I feel their relationship had potential to grow closer if Giyuu had actually gone out of his way to communicate more with her, and he probably would had if they both survived, but at the time she died he probably still felt a distance, which is why it did him harder when Tanjirou--someone who Giyuu did actually get to a point of enjoying conversation with--was dead right in front of him. (Side not, oh man, OH MAN, being a weekly reader was so tough then. I still have so many emotions from that week. Oh man. Oof. Ouch.)

Of note, Giyuu had the best opportunity for reflection on a comrade’s death since he had enough recovery time once he woke up to build a fire and treat wounds, and Tanjirou took that chance to read a letter.

What would have been nice? AGAIN, GIYUU, ANYTHING, but after that battle I think he deserved to disassociate a bit. Also of note, I don’t know that they had complete information either, because NO ONE (by “no one” I mean Tanjirou and Inosuke) seemed to hear anything about Zenitsu single-handedly killing Upper Moon Six and surviving it. What would had been nice: “Good for you, Zenitsu, I hope you’re okay” or “Six? Again? Didn’t we already do that? There was a third??” or “well I got Upper Moon Two SO THERE” or “..........are you sure?” or even way, way after all is said and done, off in epilogue times, “you fought WHO by YOURSELF???” but I digress. Now back to Shinobu, losing her so early on in this marathon of high-stakes battles made her death seem forever ago by the time we got to another Pillar death. It would had been nice for more of them to react both with “no, not Shinobu!” and “we are in deep trouble” sort of ways. That made the glimpses we got of her in flashback feel way, way more nostalgic, since for our experiences as readers, she had already been gone a very long time. I like that the battle with Douma got stretched over so long a span of the manga, they really showed the stakes in how difficult of a foe he was, even if that battle was itself was relatively shorter than others. And as stand-ins for the readers to mourn Shinobu, I love how we got that both through Kanao and through Inosuke. But yes, it sure would had been nice to get something from... Mitsuri. Now, if I had only read the events of canon, manga chapter to manga chapter, and even the Taisho Secrets, I still never would have guessed that Shinobu and Mitsuri had such a warm friendship. I know this purely from the fanbooks and novels, and that is something I find a writing error that detracts a lot from the work. Some of the most apt criticism I’ve heard of the Kimetsu pacing is that it could have stood to give us one of more arc to bond with the characters at least a little more, so we could really, really be emotional over loosing them. We get all our spare Pillar interactions in works outside of canon and after Tanjirou initially gets to know Shinobu, he has no more on-screen interactions with her; she mostly appears in Taisho Secrets. Pillar Training was fun and all, but maybe another arc with stakes in it that occurs closer to home and brings out some different sides of the Pillars in Tanjirou’s presence, instead of each of them getting one dance each with our protagonist. That would had been a chance to show Shinobu and Mitsuri’s friendship, in which case, we would had really, really wanted to see Mitsuri’s reaction. But, Mitsuri had a job to do in the very, very, very heavy tension and battles that ran in weekly magazines for months on end. She carried the very heavy weight of needing to provide brevity. Her silliness contrasted against all that tension was fresh air for readers who had been holding their breath (no pun intended! kinda) through so much. And man, our reliance on her for that made it hurt all the more when things suddenly got very serious for her. But, that means she was also unable to play a heavy emotional role too early on. There wasn’t room to give her a satisfyingly emotional reaction to Shinobu or Tokitou; when after all, this is the girl who was fretting about dearly beloved Oyakata-sama, was horrified to see the explosion, angirly attacked Muzan, but was saved from certain doom almost immediately after she was taken by surprise in the Infinity Fortress, and then she’s BACK TO 100% FANGIRL MODE. Like, giiiiiiiiiirl, Oyakata-sama just diiiiiiied, tone it down a notch. I feel like I had more to say. OH YEAH. WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?: To fanfic, duh. Going back to reaction and action and producing something with sellable pacing, again, I wouldn’t risk bogging down the tension-heavy final arc with too much open sadness (less is more definitely applies when the reaction scenes were often SO GOOD), but it clearly set up the desire for it. And, the length and intensity with which a work of fiction can live rent-free in audiences’ minds is a measure of its success. If we MUST turn to fanfiction to get that emotional closure (or force the Pillars to get theirs), then this is proof of a job well done in making us care. Herein lies the freedom with fanfiction: It doesn’t have to be good. It doesn’t have to sell. It doesn’t have to fit a regular serialized format. Fanfic is whatever it wants, all it has to do is indulgently scratch an itch. I have way more stomach for sappiness in fanfic than in original canon, because I have higher expectations of canon to honor writing conventions, and to make decisions that will serve the overall story, not necessarily cater to my tastes. But fanfic? Fanfic, you are here to serve me. Dive into those characters’ dry eyes with a jackhammer and gives me their tears. I don’t care how much you have to fry their brains to do it, give it to me. I mean, I don’t write fanfic like that, noooo. At least, not that I post publicly. Ssh. No one needs to know aaaaaall my particular canon itches I wish to have picked raw. But all the more power to people who DO post that publicly and provide a great service to all the other people with that same need. But, in the spirit of writing fic that tries to honor the spirit of canon, I try to sprinkle the juicy emotional potential canon could have had around as needed, to draw out what I feel canon just didn’t have the opportunity to give us. It’s ultimately self-servicing for what I wish canon would had done, but my style of published fic does try to stay widely appealing as a gen fic. Everybody’s got their own balances and tastes, and that’s cool. And that is freedom canon authors don’t have. I’ll conclude by saying that, although we as readers collectively earned it, the ending of Kimetsu no Yaiba was too bright and happy and specifically chose bittersweet moments that would be easy to swallow (pretty smart for a quick ending), but entirely skipped all the really heavy stuff in the immediate aftermath.

And yes, as difficult (and even dull) as it would be to slog through, there’s a part of me that wants to see all that, for the sake of closure.

And now I sleep byyyyezzzzzzzzz

#KnY fandom theories and meta #KnY Spoilers #tw death #KnY nerdery #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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natbarzal · 4 years ago

Text

Connor McDavid - Until we’re gray and old

this was requested on my Wattpad and I think this fic turned out quite well so I thought I'd post it here too😊it's a little inspired by the songs 'Say you won't let go' by James Arthur and 'Love someone' by Lukas Graham

just wanna say, I don't know how exactly weddings go, so sorry if something doesn't make sense, and also, I of course know that Edmonton is in Alberta, but since Connor is from Ontario, I thought it they'd get married there :)

warnings: none

word count: 2.2k (my longest one here on Tumblr yay😂)

enjoy! 💜

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Y/n's pov:

I stood in front of the full length mirror, taking deep breaths while staring at the beautiful wedding dress I was wearing. Today was the day I was going to marry the love of my life, and no matter how excited I was to finally become Mrs. McDavid, I was also very nervous. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear the door of the room I was in open and close.

"You look very beautiful sweetie. Like a real princess." I turned around to see my mum admiring the dress with a light smile on her lips.

"Mom, I'm so nervous." I told her, my voice slightly shaky. She looked into my eyes before stepping closer to me and taking my hands into hers.

"That's completely normal, my dear. You should see how nervous I was before I married your father - I wasn't very far from running away." she said, laughing at the memory. I laughed too, feeling just a little more relaxed.

"What made you change your mind?" I asked, looking at her curiously.

"I remembered how much I love your father and that there's absolutely no one in the world that I'd rather spend the rest of my life with. Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Connor?" she asked, looking at me with soft eyes and squeezing my hands.

"Yes." I answered without hesitating for a second. "Yes, I am sure. But that's not what I'm nervous about.. what if- what if I fall while walking down the aisle? Or- or I mess up my vow or I drop the ring while slipping it on Connor's hand? Mom what if-" I rambled anxiously, becoming more and more nervous again but my mum cut me off.

"Alright, no more 'what if's, okay? Everything is going to go well." she said and I nodded, closing my eyes and taking another deep breath. That was when we heard light knocks on the door.

"Yes?" my mom called as we both turned to look at the door.

"It's me. Can I come in?" said my dad from the other side of the door.

"Yeah dad, go ahead."

He opened the door and his jaw dropped the moment he saw me. He closed the door behind himself and just looked at me for a moment, being at a loss of words. I let go of my mum's hands and twirled around before stopping and looking at dad.

"So how do I look?" I asked, a nervous smile present on my lips. He looked up from my dress and into my eyes and I saw that his were already filling with tears.

"Beautiful, my darling." he whispered, coming closer. "I can't believe my little princess is getting married. I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday and now? Where did the time go?" he asked and quickly wiped the tears that slipped out of his eyes.

"Please don't cry dad, or I will cry too." I said.

"Give me one last hug as a Y/l/n?" he asked and opened his arms for me. I smiled before stepping closer to him and wrapping my arms around his neck, his wrapping around my waist. We hugged tightly for a few moments before I pulled away and looked at mom whose eyes were a little watery now as well. I motioned for her to join us and she did. We all hugged for a little while longer before there was another knock on the door.

"Yes?" I called after pulling away from my parents and straightening out the dress. The door opened and my best friend and maid of honour, Celeste, poked her head into the room.

"Are you ready?" she asked me. I looked over at my parents once again before looking back at her and nodding my head yes.

"I'm ready." I said confidently. My mum came over to me and kissed my cheek, smiling at me before exiting the room. Celeste looked at me and gave me excited thumbs up before turning around and walking out as well. I reached up and pulled my veil over my face. My dad came closer to me and offered me his arm to take, which I did and we walked out of the room together just as 'All of Me' started to play.

Leon and Celeste were the first to walk down the aisle, then my mom, then my little cousins as flower girls and then finally my dad and I.

As we were walking, I smiled at some of the people we passed. It was a small wedding really, just our closest family and friends, around 50 people in total. We didn't need nor want a big wedding, being able to celebrate it with the ones that are closest to us is the most important.

Before I even noticed, we were at the end of the aisle and my eyes were met with Connor's blue ones for the first time today. Connor came closer and stretched out his hand. My dad went to place my hand into Connor's, but not before saying "Take care of her for me, son."

"I will. I promise." Connor said and my dad finally handed my hand to Connor, going to sit down in his chair. Connor helped me up to the altar and then we took our spots opposite from each other. Connor reached to throw my veil over my head, revealing my face. 'You look beautiful' I saw him mouth and blushed before he took my hands and we turned our attention to the priest.

"Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Y/n Y/l/n and Connor McDavid in marriage. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife." he said, looking up at the guests.

"Y/n and Connor, remember to treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Take responsibility for making the other feel safe, and give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty and fear assail your relationship, as they threaten all relationships at some time or another, remember to focus on what is right between you, not just the part that seems wrong. In this way, you can survive the times when clouds drift across the face of the sun in your lives, remembering that, just because you may lose sight of it for a moment, does not mean the sun has gone away. And, if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will be marked by abundance and delight." he recited. Connor and I were looking at each other the whole time and God bless whoever made waterproof mascara, because I felt my eyes slowly but surely filling with tears. God why do I have to be so emotional. Connor's eyes were a little glassy as well.

"Now it's time for your vows. Connor, you shall start." he said and everyone's looked to Connor. He took a deep breath, indicating he was just as nervous as I was before starting to talk.

"Y/n, I love you so much. When I saw you for the first time in that little café in Edmonton 3 years ago, my exact thoughts were 'Wow, that's the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.' You can ask Leon, I told him about you almost immediately." everyone laughed at that a little and looked at Leon who nodded and chuckled at the memory.

"When I came to your table and asked you if I could sit with you and you smiled at me for the first time, I knew I had to get to know you. Then, when you agreed to go out with me, I was over the moon." he said, smiling big at me. I smiled back and carefully wiped the tear that threatened to slip from the corner of my eye.

"Then we went on our first date, and then on many more dates, and every single one was amazing. By the time you agreed to be my girlfriend, I was already madly in love with you. And with every passing second that we spend together, you make me fall for you more and more.

When you agreed to marry me, I felt like the luckiest guy in the whole world. There are days when I wake up and I pinch myself to assure myself that I'm not dreaming when I see you sleeping beside me.

You're perfect for me. You're everything I could ever want in a girl and more and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, trying to make you as happy as you make me. " he finished, looking at me with so much love. I smiled back at him, a wiping away the few tears that slipped down my cheeks before clearing my throat and starting my own vow.

"I love you too Connor. I remember when I came home after you asked me on that date, I was jumping around in excitement for at least 5 minutes, that's how happy I was." I said and everyone laughed a little again.

"When we started going on dates and everything went so well and then when you asked me to be your girlfriend.. I almost couldn't believe it. I never thought I'd have someone this interested in me.

I honestly thought I would never find 'the one' till I found you. You changed my life so much and I'm so grateful for that. You make me the happiest person in the world. Even on the worst days, the ones where everything goes wrong and I just want to give up, you manage to make me smile and thanks to you, I keep going. With you, every single one of my problems goes away. " I said but it was slowly getting harder to keep talking through the tears that were now flowing from my eyes. I saw a few tears slip down Connor's cheeks as well.

"I'm in love with you, more that I thought it would ever be possible for me to be in love with someone. You're my soulmate, my better half, and I want to stay with you until we're gray and old." I finished and and at this point, I think almost everyone here was crying. I reached my hand up to wipe my cheeks before the priest started speaking again.

"Do you, Connor McDavid, choose Y/n Y/l/n to be your partner in life, to support and respect her in her successes and as well her failures, to care for her in sickness and in health, to nurture her, and to grow with her throughout the seasons of your life together?"

"I do." Connor said, looking at me with absolutely no hesitation present in his voice.

"Do you, Y/n Y/l/n, choose Connor McDavid to be your partner in life, to support and respect him in his successes and as well his failures, to care for him in sickness and in health, to nurture him, and to grow with him throughout the seasons of your life together?"

"I do." I answered, looking straight into those beautiful eyes that I fell in love with 3 years ago.

"Now it's time to exchange your rings." the priest said. One of my little cousins, being the ring bearer, ran up to us with the rings on a tray and held them up for us. Connor took mine first and reached for my left hand.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you. Let it be a reminder that I am always by your side and that I will always be a faithful partner to you." he said as he slipped the golden ring on my finger. I smiled and took the other ring off the tray, taking his left hand into mine.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you. I ask you to wear this ring as a reminder of the vows we have spoken today, our wedding day." I said, slipping the ring onto his finger.

"By the power vested in me by the State of Ontario, Canada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." before the he could even finish the sentence, Connor had his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips were on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him with all I had. Everyone started clapping and cheering, but in that moment, everything Connor and I were able to focus on was each other.

Everything was perfect.

I wanna live with you

Even when we're ghosts

'Cause you were always there for me

When I needed you the most

I'm gonna love you 'till

My lungs give out

I promise 'til death we part

Like in our vows

#connor mcdavid #hockey fic #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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lemonsandstrawberries · 4 years ago

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A Better Captain America

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), Superfamily (Tony and Steve adopt Peter Parker as their son)

summary: Halloween this year doesn't go as planned, neither for Tony and Steve and their son, Peter. But it all works out in the end. requested on tumblr.

length: 1 658 words

a/n: Happy Halloween! Stay safe and have fun! fic based on this prompt. feedback, reblogs and likes are welcomed and needed :D

—————

A Better Captain America

"That was a disaster."

"It wasn't so bad."

"You fell asleep half way through the movie!"

Steve grinned innocently, pressing a button to call the elevator down.

"Well, the music was nap friendly."

"It was a horror movie and you snored! I had to elbow you like five times."

"Do you want me to kiss your elbow better?" Steve asked, looking at his husband who started to resemble a puffed-out, angry cat. Adorable. "In all honesty, babe, Peter warned us that that movie had bad reviews."

Tony scoffed, raising his arms dramatically. "Bad reviews! Do you know who writes those bad reviews? Bored kids like Peter."

Steve decided to not say anything more, only kept a gentle smile on his face as he let his pouting husband first into the elevator and followed selecting their penthouse. Their date night, coinciding with Halloween, something Tony might have matched earlier, was kind of a disaster. All movies in the theaters were horrors and modern horrors were not what he remembered from when he was growing up. The stories were repeatable, movie effects were tacky and the acting was horrible. To add to the offense, the restaurant they wanted to have dinner in, had an emergency and was closed for the day. Tony was irritated and hungry and just wanted to go home, order pizza and spend the rest of Halloween on the couch, eating miniature sized candy bars. Maybe watch some movies from Peter's childhood, because watching Peter roll in his blanket and rompers and babbling happily always cheered him up and Peter's embarrassed groans were a bonus.

"You think that Peter will be mad that we are crashing his Halloween party?" Steve asked, watching Tony rolling his eyes.

"Nah. He should be relieved. Now he can go out with his friends and throw eggs at passersby or something. I am kidding!" Tony added, seeing Steve opening his mouth to deny that no son of his would behave like that. "Also, what party? He invited two friends over."

"Because you didn't allow him to invite more friends," Steve reminded, remembering Peter's offended outburst when Tony had stomped his foot and didn't agree to a wild Halloween party filled with teenage hormones under his roof.

"Which kid needs more than two friends?" Tony asked, not waiting for an answer. "I had one friend growing up, you had one friend, we both turned out fine," Tony rambled, and Steve felt a little soft, planting a kiss into his husband's fluffy hair. Steve understood the concern but still felt a bit bad for Peter who had an adamant curfew and didn't participate in typical high school parties too often, forbade by both of them. Being Captain America and Iron Man's son wasn't easy and both Tony and Steve always had this thought at the back of their heads that Peter might get used by fake friends, people who want to take advantage of his status. Tony and Steve met two of Peter's friends, Ned and Michelle, Ned being a computer enthusiast and Michelle, more commonly known as MJ, a girl with a sarcastic, guarded demeanor who was slowly opening up. Neither Tony and Steve were blind and could see the affectionate looks measured both by Peter and MJ at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking and it had all the potential to turn into something more meaningful with time.

The elevator stopped on their floor and Tony and Steve went out, hearing familiar voices. Two laughs and... a booming, stern voice, belonging to their son.

" - I am the Captain of the Avengers! When I swing my shield, no crook can feel safe!"

Tony and Steve suddenly stopped, but it was the only thing they had in common. Tony's previous grumpy attitude was immediately gone, replaced by a huge smile. Steve just stared, eyes wide in shock.

Wearing Steve's Captain America suit, swinging a toy replica of Steve's shield, was Peter. The suit hung on his smaller frame, but it wasn't enough of a hint and Peter still wrapped himself in it, doing an impression of Steve on the battlefield, poorly flailing the toy shield around in front of Ned and MJ, who was basically dying from laughter.

The laughter was gone when they noticed the two people standing behind Peter. Ned looked absolutely mortified, and MJ curled in herself, just to hold her laughter in better.

"Um, Peter - " Ned, being the good friend he was, tried to get Peter's attention, which was difficult as Peter started to march and sing.

"Who's strong and brave here to save the American Waaaay? Who's vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and daaay?" Peter sang, loud and proud, squaring his shoulders and raising knees high with every step.

"Hey, CAPTAIN AMERICA!"

Peter froze. It couldn't be… He slowly turned around, a cold shiver running all over him in panic.

"P-pops!" Peter called, dropping the toy shield down as if he never was holding it. He looked for a blanket, a pillow, anything to cover himself up, and hide the suit, but it was pretty pointless.

Again, Tony and Steve sported two different kinds of attitudes. Steve, crossed arms, square jaw, eyes narrowed and reprimanding. Tony, hands on his knees and bent in half and wheezing in laughter.

"Tony," Steve said coldly, needing his husband's support on this one.

"Um, sohhahary," Tony giggled, straightening up and trying to mirror his husband's look. He couldn't and just curled in laughter again after a few seconds.

"Hi, Mr. and Mr. Stark-Rogers!" MJ called, waving to them and just then Ned got out of shock and said his hello, still a bit intimidated by the superhero couple.

Tony waved back and walked to the teenagers and patted his son on the shoulder on his way. He sat on the couch, just right between MJ and Ned. "So, how it is going?" he asked friendly, feeling that Steve could hand the Peter problem on his own.

"Peter, what's the meaning of this?" Steve asked, voice quiet and demanding.

"Um, pops, I just -"

"You think you can be a better Captain America than I am?" Steve asked, some growl making its way in his voice. Just there was no real anger in it. More like some playfulness mixed with a challenge.

Peter just stood there, not understanding. He could hear his dad, talking to MJ and Ned, and he felt that if Steve would lecture him in front of his friends, MJ would never allow him to forget about this.

"Come on, come at me. Get your toy shield and try to knock me down," Steve encouraged, gesturing for Peter to charge at him.

"What? Pops, no!" Peter denied, not needing to be smashed into the carpet in front of his friends. The conversation behind him suddenly ended and he could feel everyone looking at him.

"Come on, Pete! If you knock Steve down, I will triple your allowance!" Tony called with a huge grin, Ned and MJ cheering for Peter to do it.

Peter was very suspicious and eyed his pops wearily.

"I will go easy on you," Steve promised, taking a fight stance.

Backing down was not an option anymore. Peter was sure that neither Ned nor MJ would let him forget about this anyway, so at least he could go down with style. With a loud roar, he ran at his pops.

Running at Steve was pretty much like running into a brick wall. His pops was solid muscles, great for bear hugs, but Peter never saw anyone knocking his father down.

And today wasn't the day either.

"Hop!" Steve jumped out of the way, just when Peter got too close, sending his boy stumbling forward. He didn't let him go far, and grabbed by his arm, turning around and sending crashing into him.

Yup, exactly like a brick wall. Peter's breath got knocked out of him from the impact.

"Now, you admit that I am the true Captain America!" Steve made a show and wrapped arms around his boy's smaller frame and squeezed him, leaning forward and crushing. Just enough to let him feel it, but not strong enough to do any damage. Just one of the typical bear hugs, Steve liked to treat his son with from time to time.

"Pops! Stoop!" Peter called, the whole situation causing him to smile. It was just like when he was little and Steve used to play rough house with him all the time. Just that back then, Steve used to force him in submission either by blowing raspberries on his cheeks or tickling him, but Peter was definitely too old for this now -

- or not.

"Eeep!" Peter squeaked when strong fingers dug into his sides and prodded into the skin. "Pops noohahahahaa!"

"You know what I want to hear," Steve reminded in a cheerful voice, running his fingers over his boy's sides and belly, despite Peter squirming in his grasp.

"Get him good, honey!" Tony cheered, and turned to amused Ned and MJ, "so, anyone in the mood for pizza? Maybe we can watch some family videos if you are in the mood, Peter was the cutest chubby baby."

Peter wheezed, still trying to wriggle out from his pop's clutches. "Dahahahad! No!" he had enough of humiliation for one day and much to his horror he noticed that MJ and Ned nodded enthusiastically to Tony's offer. "Pops, stahap! Stahapstahpstahahp!" Peter jumped when somehow Steve managed to claw under his arms.

The rest of the evening was relatively calm. Peter changed into his normal clothes and came back just in time when the pizza arrived, and Tony trusted the teenagers to chose a good horror movie and later he had to admit, that it was quite decent. Maybe it wasn't the date night Tony and Steve had in mind, neither the Halloween party Peter wanted, but spending time together like that was nice too.

#stony #superfamily #halloween #peter parker #tony stark #steve rogers #ned leeds #michelle jones #mj #family fic #family fluff #fluff #humor #peter parker is ticklish #ticklish!peter #tickle fic #fanfic #fanfiction #Happy Halloween

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painterofhorizons · 3 years ago

Note

August, september, november? ♡

<3 Thank you for asking!

From this writing meme, feel free to send more.

The answer on september got a little long so under a cut for length.

august: are any of your fics associated with certain genres/artists/songs/etc?

I used to write a lot to songs when I was younger. One of my more recent fics that falls into this category (where "recent" means like 2016) is a german Criminal Minds fic I wrote. I watched "The hateful eigth" on cinema and despite it not being my usual genre I enjoy, damn I was SO fascinated by the movie and especially by the opening. The opening is BRILLIANT. Watched the movie a couple of days in a row, and wrote a very experimental piece while listening to the first track of its soundtrack. The text itself has nothing to do with the movie or soundtrack, but writing it while the track was running on repeat and the whole very experimental style of the story was quite an experience. (Story found here, but it's german.)

september: share a comment or review which still warms your heart?

Okay okay. So. Story time. Sorry this rather innocent question will get a lot of words in return.

Let me first say that I appreciate every. Single. Comment. So so much. Like. So much.

I was socialized ff-writing-wise on the german ff site (fanfiktion.de), going there first in 2004 shortly after they launched and not switching to AO3/english ff reading until ten years later (and writing seriously not until 2020). I have spent so much of my free time when I was a teenager on ff.de, both writing and reading. You know, the kind of teenager-ff-consumption where you write a chapter, upload it, get all your peers to read it and comment on it the same day and just writing and uploading another chapter the same day because of that. :D We were young and had nothing else to do, right?? So, writing/reading ff for most of the time for me was doing so in german on ff.de. And I think over there - and back then that is, as well as within my peer group of teenagers sharing the same interests - there was a whole different reading/commenting culture. More people commented in general, and comments were longer. Then when we grew older, changed fandoms, met new people and stuff, I was very lucky to find a wonderful peer group of adult people within the Criminal Minds fandom over there who was just dope. We were writing comments longer than chapters sometimes, essays really, character and story analysis and having deep discussions about stuff in the comments. (None of us was at tumblr, lol, so stuff happened in comments.) And I cannot start to tell you how much I appreciate those CM years in the mid 2010's. We all moved on from that fandom/writing group by now, which is just how things go, but I treasure those writing years so so much. I could pull any of the comments I got in those years as an example, they are all just amazing. (shoutout to @sheeplessthings and @calendergirlff who remain from that group)

So, that's how I was socialized ff-writing wise. Regular and lengthy, analyse and deep conversation like comments on whatever one wrote. ff.de didn't have anything like kudos, just comments and PMs, and neither of us knew tumblr.

Well, you know AO3 these days works a lot different. And I still find myself mourning these "good old days" comment-wise, because honestly - I mean, every writer will understand. There's nothing better then lengthy rambling comments on something you wrote.

That being said, a comment I treasure a lot - or many, that is - is everything left on my "20 times Akuze almost gets Shepard" fic. Let me explain (more words, yay. xD)

Gifted kid speaking. I know writing is not about getting good grades. And comments aren't, either. And I love rambling comments so so much, much more than just "this was really good". But for the 20 times fic, there was so much praise coming in. I mean "one of the best mass effect fics read", right? Lietarl comment I got. And you know why that means so so much to me? Not because yay, I got a good grade at writing apparently.

English is not my first language. I have been writing in german ever since, and A LOT, and I am very confident about my (german) writing skills. It's great to enjoy something and know you're good at it, and being able to use it a lot in both private and professional ways. Writing in english though? It's fun, too, but I'm not a native speaker, I have never lived abroad, didn't grow up bilingual, I use dictionaries a lot and my grip on english as a language, the details, the knowledge and experience just isn't the same I have in german. It's lacking.

And with it being Mass Effect, I am just ANXIOUS about writing, okay? I was first introduced to Mass Effect ff by @tarysande s Grace Shepard fic. I found it when I was extremely depressed, MA studies having killed every last bit of join about reading. I hadn't read in years for fun and enjoying it - then when I found her fic I have read hundreds of thousands words within I think 4 or 5 days. The pain of staying up all night for days with barely a handful hours of sleep because I had to read it all still feels very real. xD Her writing is so good. And after her fabulous, wonderful stories I have read so many more, and let me tell you, the english speaking ME fandom is incredibly skilled and talented. Amazeballs. Many of these fics are just so good you have no idea. I have read a lot in my life and you guys write stories, holy cheesecake. So ME is both a very emotional topic for me personally, keeping me sane in a very challenging time, as well as writing wise. I know writing isn't about getting good grades, but as someone who always got good grades in writing in her native language and then coming to the english ME fandom and reading all these brilliant stories from all these incredibly talented people has me... anxious, so to say. Because I know I cannot live up to that. I cannot be as good as I'd like to be and there are so many so brilliant writers in the ME fandom. It's intimidating. (And I have never met someone who wrote in german while german was their second language, so I only know the situation from one perspective.)

And damn, "20 times" got me really great grades. :D And more important, with all these amazing writers out there and amazing stories I have read? Someone saying they think "20 times" is one of the best ME stories they have read? That means so much to me. That's like: damn girl. You did it.

november: do you have any rituals or requirements for getting in the mood for writing?

Unfortunately, no. I'm a "lust and motivational writer" how I like to call myself - either I am in the mood or I'm not. I will write when I feel like writing. I can't really provoce the mood myself, though sometimes when I want to write but don't feel like, I'll just read through some wips and see if there's anything I could work on. But yeah, I'm not in the "goes to fav place, makes a nice cup of coffee and maybe lights some nice candles to set a mood"-club, unfortunately. The writing happens, or it doesn't. ^.^'

#painterofhorizons writes #amistrio #thank you for the ask! <3 #here's to another time where I ramble about commenting culture and the differences between ff.de and AO3 lol

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anakinthetrashking · 5 years ago

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BnHA One-Shot Fic Recs (pt1)

Making some fic-rec posts has been on my to-do list for a while and I’m finally doing it, yay! Currently I have 6 word doc pages full of just BnHA recs. So I’m splitting them up by length and completion, so first up is (part one of) one-shots! Let’s go!!!

Lets start with some classic Izuku and DadMight!

Pictures, Posters and Tender Beauty by ProPinkist (tumblr: @dazais-guardian-angel ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~4,400 words Summary: Izuku has virtually every All Might-themed item out there, and prides himself on all of it, as Toshinori is well aware. However, somehow, the boy still decided that there was something vital missing. This is fluffy and very cute. No one truly appreciates All Might as much as Izuku does, but 1A comes close. All Might deserves all the love, and this fic truly provides!!!

Dear Mr. All Might by QuizzicalCrow (tumblr: @quizzicalcrow ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~5,000 words Summary: As the #1 hero for decades, All Might has collected a lot of fan mail over the years. Toshinori tracks down a series of letters that only now, years later, does he appreciate for their significance. I always love the thought of All Might looking through his fan mail, even if he can’t get to all of it. This was a wonderful glimpse into that AND it was made to be so, so personal and sweet. Go have some heart-healing fluff.

Growing Pains by LordofLies (tumblr: @theangelofchildren ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~5,900 words Summary: Izuku finds himself changed by his encounter with the Hero Killer, but changes of a more physical kind are in store for him as he begins to truly accept One for All as his own. Once, he would have been thrilled to look more like All Might, but now those connections are as much a source of anxiety as they are of pride.Or, Izuku wakes up one morning and sees the world through different eyes. Izuku having anxiety and Toshi being there to help him through it and calm him down? Sign me UP. Its also a pretty cool take on how One for All is able to change things about it’s holder. Could this happen in cannon? Who knows.... Regardless, it was a great read!

I’ll Carry You Home by Renesvetta Rating: G Category: Gen ~2,700 words Summary: While training with All Might, it wasn’t uncommon for Izuku to be so exhausted at the end of the day that he unwittingly fell asleep without regard for where he was. It consequently became part of All Might’s routine to help his young protégé home. During that time, Izuku may have let loose more than one sleepy confession towards his mentor. Yes, it is as adorable as it sounds. Its tagged with “self indulgent Dad Might fluff” which is both accurate and appreciated. In other words: Superb you funky little writer!

Simple Gifts by QuizzicalCrow Rating: G Category: Gen ~6,700 words Summary: One year ago, Izuku received the greatest gift he could ever imagine. Now he’s determined to return the favor for the one responsible for it all with a gift of his own. First off, I love the idea of Izuku and Toshi quietly celebrating the anniversary of passing on OfA from All Might to Izuku. Even just taking the day to hang out with each other. It’s a really precious idea. But there’s not just fluff! Izuku finds himself in a fight, again. (cool villain quirk, too!) I love all of the small details that are in this fic (and in Crow’s other works, too!) anyway its exciting AND very heartwarming, so go read it!!!

Affectionate by Sevi007 (tumblr: @sevi007 ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~2,600 words Summary: Toshinori starts to show affection very easily around his students. The reactions he gets for that are not quite the ones he had anticipated - well, not all of them, at least. Toshi is LOVED, APPRECIATED, and 1A feels like HOME. how many times can i say “cute” and “heartwarming” on this post?? bc these are some amazing writers, whom I adore, and their writing makes my heart WARM. AND. FUZZY. i mean, even just the first few paragraphs of this one just, really sets the scene of what i like to believe the 1A dorm is (on a good day, lol). its a really nice read, so go treat yo’ self by reading it.

paint me in trust by dinomight Rating: G Category: Gen ~6,400 words Summary: The first mark Izuku gets is a slight brush of green across his temple. It’s the soft touch of a mother holding her son for the first time. Inko has one to match, the same shade of green staining the tips of her fingers. Hers is more noticeable; Izuku’s tends to blend into his hairline. He loves it anyways. He has to. It’s the only soulmate mark he has. (Or: how Izuku goes from just green to a rainbow, UA-style.) Ok, so this fic sort of plays off the idea of soulmates, and does not fit in with soulmates in the usual form of the trope. First off its completely platonic. Its categorized as Gen and sticks to that. Also it doesn’t seem to be as obligatory and permanent as you would think it would be. It seems to be more of the universe telling you who has the possibility of being important in your life. I really really loved this, it was so adorable and gives you that sweet, sweet Izuku angst, before healing your heart with the power of friendship and found family!!!

The Die Has Been Cast by ChiwiTheKiwi (tumblr: @chiwithekiwi ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~5,400 words Summary: “There’s something about that kid you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”When no answer meets him, Shouta tries again.“You know something about Midoriya’s quirk that you haven’t shared with me. Is that right?��(Or: A canon "What If" surrounding the latest manga events and focusing on Aizawa finally making a connection.) First off, this fic has spoilers for the manga, so dont read unless you’re past chp212! I loooooooove OfA reveal fics, especially when it’s Aizawa that finds out. He deserves to know!!! its kind of important!!!! This fic chooses a great moment to work off of, and does a great job with Aizawa’s character. I really enjoyed it and couldn’t keep myself from going back and reading it just now LOL

These last two are actually two-shots, but it makes it an even 10! also Izuku and dadmight, so we can continue the theme here...

Some Unspoken Thing by LittleKy Rating: G Category: Gen ~7,900 words (2chps) Green, Toshinori has always thought, is the color of life anew.(Or: It's time for Yagi Toshinori to finally accept that he has a son, now, in all but blood. It's time for Midoriya Hisashi to accept that as well.) YES ALL MIGHT! ADMIT THAT IZUKU IS YOUR SON! great portrayal of the characters and really hits the nail on the head for DadMight. and Izuku in this story is just the smallest green floof that you wish to give a hug. NEVER MIND ALL MIGHT, YOU TOOK TOO LONG SO IZUKU IS MY SON NOW AND IM NOT GIVING HIM BACK ( no but seriously i want to hug this fic its so cute TTuTT )

LAST BUT NOT LEAST! I See You by BirdAntlers (tumblr: @aarymk )

Rating: G Category: Gen ~15,400 words (2chps) Midoriya Izuku is a quirkless child, blind from birth. Yagi Toshinori is the most powerful man in the world, loved by millions. They could not be more different, and yet their loneliness is the same. (From a pair of AU posts on Tumblr that got way out of hand; I wanted to put it here because it turned into more of a fic than a "what-if." Basically a vessel for me to vomit as much Dadmight as I can.) Hey, you! Yeah! You! Do you want to cry? Do you want to start sobbing in a public space?? Do you just want to be destroyed with words and be left there kneeling at the feet of a writer who has torn out your heart and stomped on it before they gently wipe the tears from your face? Yeah?? y oU Wan NA D IE??? READ THIS AND GET REKT. you’ll thank me later

(under the cut is just me rambling, i kept all the important stuff up here, ur welcome)

Now that the actual recs are over I can rant here- look i really tried to slim my recs down, but i have almost 300 bnha fics bookmarked,some of them are “to read” or theyre in progress, etc but i managed to get this list sorta slimmed down? a little?(to only 58!!!) but as i was gathering this post together it felt like i dont have very many Dadmight recs on that list??? but i havent rechecked all the other fics i was just going through the oneshots. i... kinda read a lot more fics with AIzawa in it instead. it be that way. DadMight content is SO GOOD. but my fav is aizawa im sorryyyyy anyway i have another SEVENteeN oneshots to put in rec posts and that does NOT include the mulitchapter and friikin series and stuff... and like i said this is aaaaaaallllllllllllllll BnHA. batfam fic posts will come after, and then star wars, and then maybe star trek? we’ll see. i have a very specific taste in ST fics and that is Tarsus IV whump. which. i have not read in a while. when they say “that trope came from ST” for sooooooo many tropes, you WISH other fandoms had tarsus as a trope, holy crap it is TOP TIER angst fodder. if you love to write/read whump, angst, and h/c i would HIGHLY recommend that you take a bit of time and explore the content and stories there. heck maybe i will make a ficrec post for just tarsus angst. ok.

my INTENTION is to edit these posts later with little links to the other fic rec lists so that itll be easier to find. but., its me, so itll either happen in painful detail or not at all

asdjkdgh its 2:30am and i need to sleep and not be rambling incoherently again I WILL SAVE THIS AS A DRAFT.

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thevictorianghost · 4 years ago

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A look back at 2020 - and a thank you to the Zutara fandom

Okay.

So.

I’ve never done this before. I know 2020 has been… a year. To say the least. A messy, sad, hell of a year. I’m not saying my 2020 was perfect. There were many events that were supposed to happen but got cancelled because of COVID. But if you could believe it, 2019 was so much worse for me, especially creative-wise. So I decided to make this post about how my 2020 went, because it went a lot better than 2019!

Never again, 2019. Never again.

Also if you feel like you haven’t been creative or haven’t had the energy to do everything you wanted to do, please don’t take this post as a “haha I did so much better than you guys!” Because that is ABSOLUTELY NOT what I want to achieve. I just want to give myself a pat on the back. Honestly, I think what really helped this year was when I got into a slump for one type of creative endeavour, I jumped to the next. I set myself to start something and finished it. Then, if I felt burnt out about that thing? Like writing a fic? I got into cosplay. Or video editing. Or something else. And then I came back to writing. It was really fun to learn new things and to do multiple kinds of projects through the year!

The Zutara fandom thank you letter is at the end, so if you want to skip my ramblings, you can find the title below!

So anyway. Here goes!

Video editing:

It’s not that well-known on my Tumblr, but I have a Youtube channel! I made myself a video editing challenge back in January - and I crushed it! Back in 2019, I quit video editing for many months because I didn’t have the motivation to continue doing so. But then in December last year, I found a BUNCH of my old (and I mean, VERY old) videos I’d made as a kid. And it re-invigorated my love for video editing because I realized how far I’d come and that I wanted to do it more! So I told myself: one video a month. Twelve in one year. That’s it. Do that. And I ended up making TWENTY videos this year! I’m so proud of myself!

I even made MORE than twenty videos. A few of these just aren’t published. I made a few more “educational” videos because I’m considering making a brand new Youtube channel dedicated to History and pop culture! I don’t know if it’ll end up being… you know… a thing, but hey! Why not?

I also made some unpublished short edits for a possible Instagram account I’d like to create, too! All for Titanic. An example of those short videos can be found here! Again, I don’t know if that Instagram account will end up being… a thing… but I have faith!

Cosplay:

I got back into cosplay this year! And I learned new skills thanks to it! I learned how to work with EVA foam to create my own Blue Spirit mask (using this tutorial!). There’s a few projects currently on the backburner, but I’m sure I’ll come back to them eventually!

I also learned recently how to sew a pair of opera gloves (because haha, fuck you if you want to buy any that aren’t in size small!) for a Rose Dewitt-Bukater cosplay with my sewing machine I bought way back in like… March… but was honestly too afraid to use. But I did it! I pushed through my fear and I did it! I’ve been practicing more and more with my sewing machine as I repurpose old clothes for my cosplay. And it’s going great!

Writing:

I got back into fanfic! I hadn’t written ANYTHING fanfic related in a while, especially not multi-chapter fics. But this year, I finished THREE novel-length fanfictions. My fanfics The Prince’s Bride, my Star Wars/The Princess Bride AU, and Never Let Me Go, my Avatar: The Last Airbender/Titanic AU, are currently all published on AO3! I haven’t been much in the Star Wars fandom since writing The Prince’s Bride, but I did meet @stressedinadress with who I talk about Star Wars and anything in particular! Thank you for being my friend!

My other novel-length fic, All roads lead to Paris, a Miraculous Ladybug/A Monster in Paris/Ratatouille crossover fic is currently being uploaded every Wednesdays! I’ve also written a Titanic/The Great Gatsby crossover one-shot called Make it count; Meet me at the clock that had been living in my brain for years but I’d never had the guts to write it. But then I did!

I’m especially proud of Never Let Me Go. Not that I’m not proud of my other fics, but this one in particular has a very special place in my heart. It’s the longest story I’ve EVER written and made me love Titanic all over again. Zuko and Katara were the perfect characters to be cast as Jack and Rose. I got back into drawing entirely thanks to this fic. I’d been telling myself “I can’t draw to save my life” for YEARS but then I decided to try again and I’m much better than I was back then! I’m so humbled by all the comments, all the bookmarks, the kudos and the love this story has received. We’ve JUST REACHED 5000 HITS!! Before the end of the year!! That’s so AWESOME!!

I’m tentatively coming back to original fiction after writing a lot of fanfic, especially a Greek Mythology retelling (which is, you know, fanfiction but with stories that don’t have copyrights!). I think writing fanfiction really helped me figure out what I love about writing and has helped me tremendously in creating my own style and voice. It’s been an incredible journey and yes, my Greek Mythology retelling was inspired by a Zutara Greek Mythology AU! So you know, I’m staying on-brand! haha

I’m also currently working on another ATLA fic, heavily inspired by my “what I would have wanted for LOK” post you can find here. It’s going to be much, MUCH shorter than Never Let Me Go, but it’s already longer than Not Like Everyone Else, so I’m really happy with this one. A bunch of bite-sized chapters in the POVs of all these lovely characters after the War and my take on where they should have ended up - and the world.

Zutara:

And finally, but certainly not the least, I got back into the Zutara fandom and really contributed! I made metas I’m really proud of (like this one on Katara’s abandonment issues you can find here!). I wrote the aforementioned fanfic Never Let Me Go. I even made a video about Zutara after my latest rewatch of ATLA (you can watch ZUTARA | Zuko x Katara - BATTLESHIPS here!).

I also made friends along the way! @darkcrowprincess, @harharj, @angelsabloom and, more recently, @heavensweetheart. I wanted to thank you for putting up with my weird rants and obsessions! :)

We’re all such a lovely bunch and don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere! I want to thank, especially, @firelxdykatara, @antarcticasx, @my-bated-breath, @peartarts, @pineapple-frenzy and @hayleynfoster for your metas, fics, art, etc.! You’ve been making my 2020 better. This isn’t an exhaustive list, so if I’ve forgotten someone, I’m so sorry!

Also I hope everyone who have been harassed recently, like @babytreehugger, knows that we’re all standing behind you and supporting you.

This is a really special fandom indeed. It took me years before I could rewatch ATLA knowing Zutara wasn’t endgame, but even if it hurts that they’re not canon, we have countless fics, art, poems, animatics, even published authors whose books are basically Zutara AUs! As stated by those same authors! Isn’t that amazing?? WE HAVE A STAR!! WE HAVE A FRICKING STAR!!! Has anyone forgotten that??

And look. I’ve been, for the past few years, in the Star Wars fandom. I’ve been in many different fandoms over the years. It’s been… rough. But I’ve never seen such an encouraging, loving, compassionate fandom. I know it can be difficult outside of our fandom, especially with people fighting on Twitter and Instagram and even on Tumblr with people harassing others. But this fandom, fifteen years later, is so smart, so kind, so positive and so inspiring.

If you’ve been reading up ‘till now, thank you!

Also: You can do whatever you set your mind to! I believe in you! Go do the thing if you want to! And never forget to be kind to yourself.

Happy holidays! Let’s hope (fingers crossed!) that 2021 will be a better year.

thevictorianghost

#me #zutara #zuko #katara #motivation #happy holidays #year recap #i dont know how to tag this #2020 was a heck of a year #im glad its over #but it also wasnt all that bad #so i decided to post this

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aelaer · 4 years ago

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Re: Blood in Your Veins

Hey so uh.

As anyone who’s been following me for a while knows, I started the serial “The Blood In Your Veins” about this time last year (it used to be ‘my veins’ but retitled it on its move to AO3 because execution of prompt had changed a bit over writing). It’s a prompt that I couldn’t stop thinking about and just dabbled in slowly to see where it went. Then 2020 fully hit and my writing came to almost a complete stop until about October, which is when I began again on Illuminating the Shadows, which was finished and posted in December.

Anyway, I’ve been poking and prodding fairly continuously at The Blood in Your Veins. The first four parts that I posted originally here on tumblr are now all on AO3, and once part 5′s up I’ll link it here and link everyone who wanted alerts to the updates then so they can see the new part. Then all future parts will be linked here as well.

(Cut because why the *hell* did I write this much about this?)

I’ve been slow in posting because I, against better judgement but why not, decided to post it as a WIP. But that means I keep on making edits to older parts because I think of something new that should be addressed earlier in the story. Like uh, when I was writing part 9, I realized I needed to go back to part 5 and add an addendum. When I was writing part 12, I realized I totally forgot a part that I ended up adding in part 8, because I needed it for a future connection. This happens all the time in my writing and makes posting WIPs almost dangerous because my thinking is rarely linear if the story takes place over a course of more than a couple days. Thus the very slow posting.

So this silly little prompt thing that I was just prodding and poking at to see where it went? The farking doc passed 50k words tonight. Yup.

Granted, like 10k of that is probably outlining, personal notes, and A/Ns filled to the brim with meta, medical science, fake science, and technical/computer engineering because I love talking about it and giving people info to access easily for their own knowledge. I figure I can’t be the only one who finds this stuff super fascinating and fanfic makes it unique in that it’s not a book where the research is irrelevant, you can show off all the interesting stuff right here and talk about it with people! I love that about fanfic, so much. Sometimes the A/Ns are just as interesting as the story in some stories.

So it’s gonna be a bit slow for however long, but I finished 11 parts (with 10 betaed), have the 12th largely written out (though I’m not 100% sure about it yet so I want to poke at it more), and parts uh, 13 to 17ish outlined. But considering I was like “yeah this is 8 parts at most” like, at the beginning of this, that number is bound to change because characters keep saying things and doing things (including the supporting OCs, who are demanding to be fully fleshed out within the bounds of supporting character roles).

And yeah, this is just a ramble of what I’ve been mostly doing as I haven’t been super active on tumblr this month as this has consumed most of my free time. I haven’t read a lot of works either, and once this is completed I hope to remedy that, before I go into my next two big projects (which were meant to be what I was working on *now*, but then this took over and what will you do. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to complete three novel-length fics in the course of the year, but I’ll see what I can do. I really want to tell these stories).

Uh, this was really long. Sorry, I’m super verbose and don’t know how to be like, succinct. My old boss, two bosses ago now, used to quote Twain about brevity being a sign of wit, but if it is, call me 100% unwitty because I like to ramble. And then I always feel a little bit guilty for writing *so much* about my bullshit, so I feel like if you read this far, you 100% deserve to read a preview of an upcoming section. Especially since you pressed the Read More button! So here you go, thanks for reading my rambles. This is a section from the longest part so far, part 8. It’s a long little bit!

---

"How high's the toxicity now?" Tony asked as he stepped off the scale.

"Yesterday's blood sample came back at 0.45 milligrams per kilogram of your weight," Stephen replied. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

Tony offered his arm for the blood draw. "And if 3 milligrams is the magic number for fatality, that'd put my current blood toxicity at 15%."

Stephen inserted the needle at the crook of Tony's elbow and watched the tube fill up. "That's not quite how it works."

"It makes sense to me."

"That's still not how it works." He removed the needle and capped the tube, and as he put everything away, explained, "Saying that your blood toxicity is at 15% implies that you're talking about the whole volume of blood in your body. You're probably at about 5,500 milliliters with your weight, and with the density of blood equaling about 1.06 grams per milliliter, it is like you're saying—"

"That 874.5 grams of my blood is toxic, yeah, yeah, I know," Tony interrupted. By now he was setting up the table for their breakfast.

"I was getting there."

"You were going too slow," he shot back easily. Stephen gave the engineer a look at the comment, but Tony ignored it. "Yeah, I know it's not my whole body's blood volume. Obviously. But putting a percentage on how long until I reach the point that I'm dead makes sense to me. I'm not measuring the whole volume of my blood, I'm measuring how much more can I handle until I'm dead."

Stephen shot him a frown. "It doesn't make sense to call it 'blood toxicity' then."

"Maybe not to you, but it does to me. And I'd design such a measuring tool for me."

The statement caught him off guard. "Design?" He finished packing up the kit and joined Tony at the table.

"Well, if I wasn't stuck in here, I'd design something to automatically read a blood sample, like how glucose meters read blood sugar levels. Wouldn't be hard to engineer something like that. And I'd have it give me the amount of toxicity as a percentage relating to how far along it was until the amount was lethal. Sure, I could memorize the numbers, but the percentage would be more concrete in my head."

Stephen smeared butter over a piece of bread as he listened. He shook his head at the end of Tony's explanation. "Wouldn't work for the consumer market; there's too much room for interpretation as to what the percentage means."

Tony huffed. "Well, like I said, it'd be for me. Not the consumer market."

His brow furrowed. "You're telling me that you can make a blood test as simple as the one used for testing blood sugar levels for something as rare as palladium poisoning?"

He narrowed his eyes. "... yes…"

"You can make it portable like the glucose meters?"

"Yeah, of course."

"And affordable to most hospitals?"

Tony looked up in thought. "I don't usually factor in the costs of materials and manufacturing in personal projects, and others do the number crunching to see if my ideas are viable for production in company projects. If they aren't, but I really want them to be, I'll tinker a bit more, sure."

Stephen couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Do you realize the amount of money you could save for both hospitals and patients across the country with such technology? Specialized blood tests—like for many metal poisonings, for instance—aren't offered at every hospital. It may not be available even in every state. Those types of lab results can take weeks to get back to a doctor and the patient. And you're saying that you can not only potentially create this type of technology, but that you may be able to make it affordable if you really want them to be?"

"Well yeah, sure. I've done it a few times with other things. I could probably do that with a blood meter thing. I doubt the tech's that complicated."

His mouth was partially hanging open, Stephen realized this, but he couldn't bother at the moment. He was flabbergasted. The first thought that came to mind went to his mouth, unfiltered. "And you spent the last two decades building weapons."

"Don't." The word was sharp and filled with an overabundance of emotion.

Stephen fell silent. He crossed a boundary he had yet to see before now, and he was not so callous as to push against it. Instead he turned to his meal and focused on eating. He avoided looking at the other man.

A couple minutes later, Tony spoke again. It was low, pensive. Thoughtful. "There was a good reason I shut down weapons manufacturing after I got back from Afghanistan, you know. If the department ever comes back, it will be with major restrictions and modifications. Likely more defensive than offensive. More shields, less missiles. But in the meantime I've been restructuring. Expanded in commercial aerospace and industry. We entered the energy market properly. Consumer products is coming soon—end of the year, probably." A pause. "Don't see why we can't look into medical tech, either. Certainly wouldn't hurt to try."

He could only nod and say, "It certainly wouldn't."

#my writing #my wips #fic snippet #stephen strange #tony stark #also why do my fics spiral out of control like this #i mean really

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