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the-knight-of-destiny · 7 months ago

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Okay, so long long ramble under the cut about the nature of Ratgrinder Discourse™, I'll preface by saying that I don't want any of this to get hostile with anyone, because I think that's frankly silly to do over a webshow. That said I am also open to critical discussion so if anything I say doesn't make sense, or doesn't track I'm open to critique on it! Obviously spoilers up to Episode 19 of Fantasy High Junior Year underneath. Also it is a VERY long post, several pages, so don't click read more if that'll be overwhelming/too much at once. I just had to get my thoughts into words.

So, this will be long but I'll try to break it up. For clarity I want to establish my main point and give a quick TL;DR here, so here's the short version, long version even further below. My main points are as follows: 1: It is okay to not be happy with how a narrative is going in a show/story you enjoy. Critique is not hate, if anything it's a form of praise in a way. People wouldn't be having such long and frequent discourse about D20 and it's current season if they didn't feel strongly. 2: Similarly, we as an audience have a very different perspective of the entire story unfolding compared to the Intrepid Heroes/Cast. I think a lot of people jump to assumptions about the cast's thought process when that really isn't something we can gauge beyond what they say in episode and on Adventuring Party. 3: For me at least, even if I am left unsatisfied by an ending it doesn't ruin the fun I had in a work. Now if you just wanted my bullet point thoughts without elaboration, there they are! The rest of this is going to be an insanely long ramble (seriously, exit now if you aren't up for that, it's pages long) that I don't expect anyone to read, but I like to get my thoughts outta my brain. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, in regards to the Ratgrinders dying in the fashion they have, there's been a lot of discussion on literally every place there is to discuss Dimension 20, Twitter, Tumblr, Reddit, I'm sure other places as well. Really it all comes back to one thing, Dungeons and Dragons is a game, but Dimension 20 is a show. We as viewers have some level of narrative expectation, now for everyone that's different. Some folks have specific hopes for plot and character arcs. Others just want a general vibe, but the cast are players. Sure they are performers, but they are players in a game in equal measure. I've alluded to this before but a lot of the sincere vitriol to antagonists thus far (and especially the Ratgrinders) comes from the fact that the players have been fully immersed in a world and as characters where the Ratgrinders have been a constant thorn in their side for tens of hours of play time. Obviously one can still not like how they've engaged with them (I'm still not sure how exactly I feel about it,) but a lot of it is coming from that distinct perspective. When Fig took Ruben out, she specifically was frustrated because she 'wasted her season' on him. There's a meta level of Fig being angry with Ruben as a character who shares a world with him, versus Emily being frustrated as a player that a lot of her in-game actions did not hash out. That's actually totally natural, by the way. The interesting way that DnD serves both as a narrative of the characters in the setting, but also of the players rolling dice is part of what makes actual play like Dimension 20 so interesting. It's why I think SOME of the disappointment with Brennan and the Intrepid Heroes comes from a strange place, we literally cannot experience the story the same way the cast have. We get a week between chunks of story, they film the episodes in batches. We can think for as long as we want about our critical thoughts, they have to improv on the fly. We get to watch the Ratgrinders as antagonists in a story, the IH are actively hindered in their gameplay by the Ratgrinders as enemies.

That said I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried about some aspects of Protagonist Centric Morality™ in this. Oisin having a mildly flirty conversation with Adaine once when he had ulterior motives is a deeply awful manipulation, but Fig catfishing Ruben the better part of an entire year is her trying to reach out and understand him (?). Kipperlilly threatening to desecrate Eugenia's grave is deeply fucked up, but Riz openly advocating mutilating Oisin's body for tactical reasons, and Fabian loudly declaring he intends to do the same to Ivy for literally just his own self-satisfaction are 'fun unhinged moments'.

Before I go on, obviously the Ratgrinders are the bad guys. They're taking part in an evil plan, they've done villainous things throughout the season, especially very recently, etc. This isn't some argument that the Bad Kids are secretly the real monsters or something, obviously not. I just think it's odd that people read into the Bad Kids' actions in the best possible light at all times and the inverse for the Ratgrinders. This protagonist centric morality also comes down to the true reason behind any and all of Fantasy High's villain redemption. Ragh gets redeemed because the player characters think he's possibly useful and/or endearing. Aelwyn gets redeemed because she personally helps Adaine. The only one that Brennan really pushed forward on his own was Zayn, who they barely engaged with. People compare the Ratgrinders to Penelope and Dayne a lot, and understandably so. However I think this is sort of the complication and in my opinion, the silver bullet to understanding what's actually happening with the Ratgrinder's narrative place, Dayne more specifically. He does very little evil on screen. I mean, he injures Fabian and is most likely the one who killed Zayn, but comparatively to Aelwyn, he does almost nothing. He gets killed without so much as a thought, and in a fun (?) parallel to current Ratgrinder discourse, does actually have his body desecrated after death by Fabian. Because he hurt Fabian personally. Aelwyn gets forgiven of doing a lot of terrible shit (and this isn't Aelwyn hate, she's like my favorite NPC.) because it didn't directly affect any of the Bad Kids besides Adaine, and even the bad stuff that did affect Adaine can be sort of off-loaded onto their parents. So it's why I say this discourse is tough, people inevitably say "Well, the Ratgrinders are villains, of course they'll get killed." And this isn't inherently a wrong statement, they look at the bad things the group is doing and understand they must be stopped, why are people upset clearly bad guys get beat and/or killed in DnD games? Because they aren't actually getting killed in such brutal ways because they're bad guys, it's because they personally annoyed or hurt the Bad Kids. This is also why Ratgrinder fans often feel both frustrated and vindicated at once (I speculate, but I feel it's a safe assumption,) because on a meta level Kipperlilly is literally right. Her friends and likely herself are getting ripped to shreds because they crossed the special protagonists, because they started to really frustrate the Intrepid Heroes. The Bad Kids have forgiven atrocities before, but the Intrepid Heroes are really quick to dismiss and kill people they find annoying.

The ultimate example I feel of this, is Mary Ann. Ruben gets blasted into hell because his actions personally annoyed the players, Ivy gets stabbed to death while being repeatedly insulted and threatened with mutilation because her actions personally annoyed the players.

But Mary Ann is the one they all think they can redeem or save, because her personality is more cute and endearing to the players. That kind of says it all better than I ever could.

#fhjy #fantasy high #dimension 20 #rat grinders #ratgrinder discourse #gosh this is super fucking long and i apologize if it floods any of your dashes #i just have a lot of thoughts on the difference between players and characters in dnd actual play #look i am ok with the rat grinders dying and i love the bad kids and intrepid heroes #but i think a lot of people don't engage with the critique in a fair light #there is a clear dissonance of when the players feel the need to off an antagonist vs how evil the antagonist actually is #and it's mostly fueled by just how annoying they as players happen to find that specific antagonist #also brennan is doing his best to make the ratgrinders somewhat complex imo but is also pitching the intrepid heroes softballs #he doesn't want to make his friends feel bad as players for doing things they find fun in a game #so he's not going to push back too hard even if it might make sense for him to do so

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raidergamerspice · 1 year ago

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Here's yet another Spy x Family ramble post since those seem to do well here lmao

It's about Yor this time!

Originally I just wanted to talk about one headcanon I had for her, but then I figured, why not talk about a few while I'm here? Considering how much I talked about Twilight in the last two posts alone, Yor deserves some rambles from me.

Anyway, first headcanon: she's autistic. Like, I got some vibes when I first watched the anime, and saw how she took her coworkers' joke to blow snot (I watch it dubbed, don't judge me) in someone's coffee seriously, then being told she's "unique". Then she constantly worries about appearing normal in front of people, and not just because she's a single woman at 27 (which happened to be the age I was when I first got into Spy x Family). She even has "unconventional" hyperfixations (on knives or other sharp weapons), and clearly has major social anxiety. Basically, Yor screams autistic/neurodivergent vibes. Honestly, the whole Forger family does, but Yor is especially blatant for me as I'm also autistic. So, yeah. Yor is autistic because I said so 😂

Another headcanon I'm projecting onto her is that she's part Filipino (I know the series takes place in a semi fictional world where even though it's inspired by our world, it's not exact). This came from a fanfic I found where Yor takes care of a sick Loid and, thinking he's sleeping, opens up a bit about her mother being from the Philippines. Even the author was projecting this because they too are Filipino, and guess what? So am I! Well, only by a quarter, but that still matters! I also know I'm not the only fan that headcanons Yor (and Yuri) to be Spy x Family's equivalent of Asian, so my interpretation (as well as the author of that fic) is just one of many 🥰

Here's that fanfic if anyone's interested: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46420426

Next, here's a headcanon that I'm NOT projecting onto her: she has a rose tattoo on her abdomen. This idea came about after listening to Victoria Beckham's song "Not Such an Innocent Girl", specifically the lyric about having a secret rose tattoo. I was struck by the thought that Yor would totally rock a rose tattoo (especially if it had thorns, 'cause Thorn Princess), and that it would definitely be kept a secret for several reasons. It clearly can't be on any of her limbs, so it would have to be somewhere on her torso. I looked up several examples for ideas, and this one is my favorite:

(Can you just imagine, when Twiyor gets intimate for the first time, Loid kisses the tattoo? 'Cause I can 🥵)

Also, I realize that this particular headcanon is the least plausible of what I talked about here so far, but I don't care. I'm letting the Yor in my head rock this tattoo 'cause she would look great with it! 😤🌹

Now this one, I'm not sure if it's merely a headcanon or borderline canon without being explicitly stated, but I have seen this topic come up every now and again. Without getting too deep into it for now, I'll just say: Yor is a virgin, but she still knows what sex is 😳

ahem, moving on.

This is the last headcanon I'll share for now, and it's something I briefly mentioned before: Yor is bisexual. Like, I'm a major Twiyor, obviously, but I'm not blind to how she and Melinda interact with each other (also, Melinda is straight up a lesbian, but I digress). I have a love-hate relationship with this phrase because reasons, but I still think it's valid to say that Yor has two hands. She deserves a husband and a girlfriend 😏 (let's just hope that Melinda doesn't turn out to be evil 💀)

Well, that's all for now! I know I said in my last Spy x Family post that my next one might be about Twiyor having twins, but I promise that will come soon! What do you think about these headcanons? Agree or disagree? Valid thoughts or delusional rambles?

#spy x family #yor forger #headcanons #half of them are just me projecting lmao #but that's fine right?#yor is a bisexual autistic filipino woman with a secret rose tattoo pass it on

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yan-lorkai · 7 months ago

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Tips for someone who wants to start their writing blog? 👉👈

Helllllllllllo darling! (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ~

-- First of all:

Sometimes you're going to write a lot and sometimes you won't even want to open your drafts because you'll be tired from it. And that's ok, always know your pace or else you're going overwhelm yourself wanting to write everything. Also don't ever delete your drafts, yes, even the ones you don't want to write anymore. Ideas and concepts can be reused later!

-- Grammar!

I'm not yet fluent in english so sometimes I write with the dictionary open in another tab lol, thing is this is very important. To better your grammar you can practice writing drabble and prompts, you don't even have to post it if you don't like it. I also recommend to read a lot as reading works to inspire you and to analyse how different every writer writes. Like, I love writing dialogues so sometimes I have a hard time writing descriptions bcs I can't focus on them. When this happens I just skip it and put a () for when I'm proofreading to edit it.

Though commiting little errors are common and totally fine, darling! You're allowed to commit them. Don't ever "omg, there's so many typos on my fics people must hate them and me" or smth, is normal to make typos actually :)

-- Rules

It's your blog, darling. You have the final say on every matter. Don't ever feel pressured to write something just because people ask you to. Though be prepared because sometimes people won't read it so you have to be patient. Put the rules on somewhere visible, change their color, PUT THEM ON ALL CAPS!

Be very specific. Like, what fandoms do you write for? How many characters can people send in? What are you comfortable writing and what are you willing to try? Is there something that you won't tolerate being sent in your inbox? Things like that!

-- Ramble, share, talk

Let us hear what you have to say. Your ideas, even if they seem silly to you, are very interesting to the audience. Also let your followers to connect and interact with you <- I say this as if I wasn't so shy and awkard that eveytime I want to share sometimes I'm hit with ah well nobody will care anyway. This is the devil speaking, do not the same I do, darling!

-- Aesthetic and tags

I like this part hehe. As I said, this is your blog darling. It's almost like your second home. And people like their home being pretty and comfy. So try making your blog look like that! Choose an aesthetic, a character or something that speaks to you. And don't be afraid to change.

Also about tags. Everyone has its own. Tag everything: fics, characters, fandoms! They're so important, darling, you can search for them on your blog later and a tagged fic has a higher chance of showing up in the main feed. Besides it'll be easier for people to navigate through your blog (also make a masterlist, yes, even if it's a hassle to maintain it).

-- Don't be afraid

Writing is hard, is true. Motivation can come and go, sometimes time won't allign it with your want to write, y'know just mundane things. If you have writer block then don't force yourself to write, you won't like it what you read when you're done and if you feel afraid to write something new then do it afraid. Do it afraid even if it's bad, do it afraid because otherwise you won't do it. Though if is something you don't know about then please search about it and talk with other people.

-- Have fun

The whole purpose of writing is to have fun. Do not anyone spoil your fun, babe. Have fun, laugh and cry writing, make friends along the way. If a story is loved by its writer then certainly everyone will feel it and love it just as much as love! :)

Hope this all helps. If you still have any questions then ask away and I'II try my best answering it!

#lorkai answer #*･゜ﾟ anon ask

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chloeangelic · 1 year ago

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OMG! The new chapter of ''Love Me Back'' is so much. How can something that starts like this chapter end up so badly? As with any good story, I knew the angst was around the corner, but what an ending.😳

I loved how you put her mental issues out in the open, with her thoughts and the therapy session in the first part of the chapter. It makes her more realistic, complex, and easier to comprehend. I totally get her. I share some of her thoughts, but at the same time, this chapter made me a bit angry. I hope the next part makes sense at the end. The mix of feelings this chapter made me feel is murky. Which shows me how well-written I found it and how much I liked it.

Self-worth can be a tricky thing, especially when starting a new relationship adds the fear of showing your true self and being rejected, a thing she's already gone through by the glimpses of her past relationships. Being told you're not girlfriend/wife material can create deep wounds, increasing her mental health struggles.

Their relationship is new, and they still have a lot to settle. I know WORDS are IMPORTANT, and they are needed, but seeing Joel show her with his actions what he wants (after all, he wouldn't let anyone get close to his daughter and develop a connection) while the reader is not able to acknowledge it, is frustrating. Not talking beforehand makes the whole situation way worse. The offer of take of Sarah, I feel like she might not be using her words yet, but she's putting herself out. She's trying to give Joel what he needs and be someone he can rely on, to be a team. The pain of Joel's rejection, coupled with his initial lack of attention, causes everything to explode. When, for once, she has the strength to defend herself and express her feelings, it's one of the worst moments.

I would love to read Joel's thoughts on the whole scene. He has so many fronts at the same time. I'm not excusing him because he could have handled the whole situation better (both of them could have). He also has his struggles and anxieties clouding his perception of the reader's emotions, making it harder for him to open himself and accept help. I hope the situation gets solved soon.

I trust you can pull out something from my ramble and that it wasn't too much, lol.😅 Thanks for the chapter! Despite preferring fluff, I'm a sucker for angst like the one you wrote.♥️

Ahhh im so glad you enjoyed it and got something out of it!!! i definitely think that new relationships are a massive catalyst for self worth issues because its such a vulnerable state to be in and youre so afraid of the other person finding something out about you thats suddenly a dealbreaker and just peacing out.

LMB girl has held soooo much back from joel, thinking shes shielding him from it, and it blows up in her face so bad cause she has this vault of crap thats bound to explode open with one little bad vibe from joel, even though theyre both misplacing their frustration. ive tried to make this fic as realistic as possible, and i think a lot of us have had periods of bottling things up and not being able to expect when the last drop hits

the whole series having such a mental health focus wasnt my intention when i started writing it - my initial idea was for it to be more FWB centered actually, but ive ended up including so much of my own experiences with self worth issues and subsequent healing, and that has made the whole thing more interesting i think

joels thoughts come out in ch 7!!!

so glad youre willing to suffer through my angst, and theres a lot of fluff coming up which is very uncharacteristic for me but we all need to see joel and his crab girl happy - they deserve it hahaha

thanks for sticking around, i love reading your detailed thoughts on the chapters <3 <3 <3

#chloe answers #love me back fic

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paradise-in-k4 · 3 months ago

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The Gap in the Evening, Report Entry 0: “Retrospective in Retrograde”

The night was dark. But then again, the nights are always dark here. Darker than they were in the last month. But that didn’t stop us from trying to uncover the mystery behind the mega crater that was a thousand times the diameter of Lake Suwa. I had made the hypothesis that this was part of a rogue meteor shower that wiped a whole town and the surrounding mountains off the map, but that couldn’t have been more wrong. Using her ability to see the boundary between what I inferred at the time as past and present, Maribel had realized that the area was alive and well. The story we had heard about a meteor wiping out a whole prefecture and then some was a cover-up, and we had to see this through as we crossed the boundary.

What we had witnessed was beyond belief. We bore witness to a practically untouched Japanese civilization that could date back to feudal times while boasting limited technology that could match the 21st century’s technological advances. Perhaps this was the land that Maribel had talked about visiting so much in her dreams. Was this a discarded second satellite whose mission was to compensate the assumed total loss of the TORIFUNE? Or maybe a botched attempt to test anti-gravity theories with cutting-edge technologies?

Our musings were cut off by one of the residents who claimed to have built her house in the nearby forest, introducing herself as Marisa Kirisame. As genuine as she sounded, her attire just screamed “modern day witch” with her cone-shaped long-brimmed hat accompanied by a poofy dress adorned with ribbons accompanied by a matching broomstick and what I can only assume- from one tabletop gaming session- is a magic focus of her own design. She said that something was wrong with her friend- a shrine maiden whose charge protected this whole region- and one of the authority figures of the land, asking us to help her out with some research in a parallel world where her sealed land of fantasy hadn’t yet gone through an incident of this magnitude. Using a parasol that she had been given from the aforementioned authority figure, she opened a second rift similar in quality to the one that Maribel had found. After being given a list of names of people who were said to belong in both worlds, we stepped headlong through the boundary into a parallel world. One that many called Gensokyo.

-Renko Usami

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Hello and welcome to my general roleplay and writing blog that at first appears Touhou-centric and boasts an AU based on Touhou that I call Universe K4 (refer to Touhou Lost Word’s universe coding to understand how I came up with this concept, as well as how universe denominations work with my muses), but some of it is essentially nonsensical ramblings unless you’re familiar with some of my other fandom interests and creative works. While I am *still* trying to get this stuff figured out, things’ll get more organized the more I work on this.

But as of recently, it’s also become a bit of a hub for me to post some writing where I can smoothly add the characters to my muse list for roleplaying, so if you see something that’s long and full of intricate text, that’s what I’m talking about.

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Rules

I might be 21+, but no NSFW of any kind is going to be a mainstay on this blog (and there’s no side blog for it either)

no godmodding, metagaming, or similar (the usual rule you see on these kinds of blogs)

in your ask, tag the RP blog you want me to respond to if you’re asking on anon or your main non-RP blog

be patient with me and tell me if things seem like they’re not going right, this is my first real attempt at making something like this

I’m open to plotted RP, but I will not do DM RP. Discord RP is another thing, but that’s for a later date when I have a server open for it. And yes, I am converting one of my servers to make this possible.

anyone can usually drop in at any time by reblogging to your own RP blog, but mind where and when it's right for your character to enter

I can do fandom crossovers (because I have AUs in other fandoms that rely heavily on them), but responses might be slow if I don’t know the other fandom until I do a bit of research on the fandom and its characters

specify the muse(s) you want to interact with and which of your muses are in the scene, and possibly even a location if you want, it makes it easier for me to think of a response

I have a life like everyone else and several other not-quite-RP blogs that I like to write stuff on (below the break), so responses might not always be immediate

being exclusively on mobile, I might be unable to do several things that are limited to a desktop client such as trimming reblogs. but I’ll try my best

you don’t have to match the length of my replies or be super detailed/formatted with them, but all I ask is that they’re grammatically legible

this blog isn’t restricted to mutuals-only or anything related. not yet, at least. if you want to interact, just do it!

anything said or done by my muses is not done to reflect the perspective of the mun

icon sources are usually canon sprites, images saved from other blogs, or YouTube screenshots. sources for other art-based icons like Pixiv will be linked in the muse bios and the first post that an image is used.

asks about my longer written works are always welcome; it gives me the confidence to continue writing

Blog icon is currently Renko as portrayed in Touhou Lost Word, banner is currently one cutscene background from the same game.

FOLLOWER NOTE: If you get follow from @derpytoad or an ask that looks like an interaction request with this blog’s tag and then this blog reblogs your answer, it’s still me. Both blogs are one and the same because this blog is a side blog. Otherwise, it might appear as an anonymous ask with this blog’s tag.

Muse List, Writing Master Post, and Blog Tags

The Second Grimoire of Marisa

File Two: An Unexpected High School’s Impromptu Detective Circle

Useful Character & Worldbuilding Generators

Below is a list of active muses without a profile. Will eventually be moved to the muse list linked above.

Renko Usami (K4) - A university student and super unified physics major who accepted a request alongside her partner Maribel to help resolve an incident that afflicted an alternate Gensokyo as a side effect of trying to uncover the truth behind a disappearing landmass. Daring and adventurous, she looks at things from an objective perspective to find her answers. Her ability allows her to tell the time (in JST) by looking at the stars and to determine where she is by looking at the moon. Does not know of or have any declared Spell Cards yet.

Maribel Hearn (K4) - A university student and relative psychology major who accepted a request alongside her partner Renko to help resolve an incident after uncovering an alternate Gensokyo during an investigation behind a disappearing landmass. A specialist in reverse psychology, she looks at things from a relative and subjective perspective to find answers, sometimes considering specific concepts to be unreal due to her self-concealed ability to see- and possibly manipulate- boundaries. Slightly knows what Spell Cards are from her brief experiences in Gensokyo in the past, but hasn’t personally declared any yet.

Star Sapphire (L1) - One of the Three Fairies of Light that happened to spot Renko and Maribel as they entered Gensokyo through the gap, currently trailing them for her own reasons. It is currently unknown if she wants to help resolve the Parallel Satellite Incident or simply cause her usual brand of mayhem with pranks. A prankster a heart with rather bizarre perceptions and interests such as literally anything to do with stars, she comes off as the calmest and wisest of the three with more common sense than the average fairy in Gensokyo. Although Star comes off as a slacker at times, she knows when to alert her allies of something incoming when preparing to prank someone, and when to bail out and leave her friends behind to face the consequences if things go wrong. Her ability allows her to detect the presence of moving objects and people like a radar, although other abilities like Reisen Udongein Inaba’s ability to control wavelengths can interfere with this. Her first two Spell Cards may be Starlight "Star Laser" and Star Sign "Red Star" although she has several others to declare if isolated from any other backup, and she’ll often change the order she declares them.

Other than that, feel free to send an ask, tag me for an interaction, or just let me know what your blogs are in the replies or reblogs, as this is a permanent starter call. At least, until a separate long-term starter call post is made. If you read the rules and muse list and know what’s going on with this blog, send me an ask that says “Yukari, get the train!”

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Looking for one of my other semi-or-less-RP blogs? Most of them are Cookie Run, but I have a bit of variety:

@bakersstreetirregulars - Cookie Run news with character commentary; open to Q&A with a select cast of muses but not full RP

@crepearchives - Cookie Run informational archival blog/pseudo-wiki for Tumblr convenience with character commentary; open to Q&A with an even smaller cast of muses than above, but no full RP

@lilywhite-space - Cookie Run AU with crossover implications that share universe lore with THIS BLOG. Everything else is WIP on this so far

@grimoiresofseveralmagicians - Touhou-centric info blog under development to act as a pseudo-wiki for Touhou Lost Word and other mobile role-playing games (the latter being under consideration). All personal lore posted on that blog is shared with and canon to THIS BLOG TOO.

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Or are you looking for my other more Cookie Run RP-oriented blogs?

@timekeepertwister - Cookie Run AU with crossover implications partially canon to this blog; open to Q&A and RP for various characters related to the Time Balance Department

@kitsune-corps-investigators - Wizardposting blog with a backdrop cast of Cookie Run wizard/detective characters both canon and OC. Open to Q&A and RP for various characters related to the series as a whole, but still under development

#touhou project #touhou au #hifuu club #renko usami #maribel hearn #marisa kirisame #roleplay blog #pinned intro #universe k4 #starter call #parallel satellite incident notes

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generational-atrophy · 9 months ago

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Are matchups still open? If so, could you do mine?

I’m a 19 year old girl. I’m mildly introverted. According to the 16 personalities quiz, I’m an INFJ.

People often describe me as sweet and quiet. While ‘quiet’ does seem to be my default setting, I can talk your ear off when it’s about a topic I really care about. In general, I’m more talkative around people I’ve gotten to know and am comfortable around. I tend to be more mild-mannered and can have a hard time standing up for myself, but I become a lot more assertive when I feel I’m standing up for justice.

I’m quite imaginative, by the way. I can be quiet on the outside, but I have an active inner world and I often daydream stories in my head. I’d like to be a part-time writer.

By the way, I’m a ballerina. Some of my dream roles are Odette/Odile, Juliet, Giselle and Manon. (If you don’t know what those are, just ignore this!)

Other interests/hobbies/passtimes of mine include figure skating, literature (both classic and contemporary), fashion (particularly vintage and retro), listening to music (all genres), learning to play music and more. I read and write fanfiction, and I’m into fandom.

More about my personality! I try to be kind and helpful to others. I tend to give people the benefit of a doubt, which has led me to making toxic friendships in the past.

As for my flaws, I can be somewhat of a pushover when it comes to myself. I can just keep on accepting bad treatment from someone until I finally get fed up and try to ghost them (to varying levels of success). Also, I can be self-destructive.

As far as appearance goes, I have long black hair, light skin and dark blue eyes. I’ve been called pretty and cute a lot, but never hot. My best features are my big eyes and my dimpled smile (a lot of people compliment my smile! :D). I’m 162 cm tall. I have a slender hourglass build.

I would like someone I have engaging conversations with. Someone who can be both a lover and a best friend. I would like them to be able to appreciate my interests so I can talk about them with them. I would do the same for them. I don’t want someone who will be controlling or get angry at me — I wouldn’t leave but I’d be unhappy. I’m not at all a jealous person — I would fully trust my significant other. I’m open-minded, and I’d like them to be the same, or at least not be closed-minded.

I don’t mind having a partner who often takes the lead, I think I’d prefer it actually, but I don’t want to be controlled. If it matters, I’m more of a little spoon.

Ahaha, sorry for this mini essay. I won’t be upset if you ignore me.

I'd match you with... England!

Although he's definitely not sweet or soft, he'd balance you out quite well! (I think, at least.)

He gets really passionate about his own interests, so he would always be up to listen to you about yours. Especially if you're more talkative around him specifically, then he'd always encourage your ramblings <3

And if you have a hard time being assertive, he has no problem standing up for you. In fact, he loves doing so.

It may not seem like it, but he's really imaginative too! If you want someone to share a weird inner-world with, I assure you he's the man. His inner-world is probably stranger.

He's a great conversationalist too. With your love of literature, vintage fashion, and music, you'd have a lot in common to talk about and share.

He knows basically nothing about ballet, but he'd always come watch! He appreciates the finer things in life as well.

He really loves your kind nature, but he'd also be sure to not let anyone take advantage of it. He's seen that with a lot of people, and he wouldn't tolerate any behavior like that around you.

(Also, it's not important, but 162 cm is like his ideal height in a partner. Shorter than him, but not by too much (: )

And yeah, he would totally take the lead. He likes to think he's a lady's man, and he at least has the confidence of one.

He may have a temper, but he's definitely not controlling.

Although he can be a bit insecure and jealous, it's not something he can't get over. He's mature enough to learn; after all, he doesn't want to upset you.

As you two get to know each other, he'd soften, and you'd become a perfect match. Opposites attract, right?

#matchups #anon u got here right as i stopped being willing to do these congrats!#also dont feel bad for putting an essay in my inbox i think its fun

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stellamancer · 1 year ago

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Hello hello Niku, I'm the anon who had sent that ask regarding sending in ideas earlier today! ^^

First and foremost thank you so so much for your kind words and assurances, I'm happy to hear that sending the ask was okay, I was so scared of over stepping or that the way in which I phrased the ask would come across/sound a certain type of that I almost wussed out and didn't send it lol ^^; I totally understand not being able to get to an ask or responding within a certain period of time, life happens, you've got hobbies and there's absolutely zero obligations in any way! <:) (Oh and while I utterly adore the way you write Gojo😳 in regards to your initial response. Yes. Make him even more pathetic if you so desire. That wet napkin of a man is always in a grave need to be humbled, and I don't think anyone would complain at the thought lol)

But to get onto the whole reason I sent the ask in the first place, while the idea doesn't have much background or development, it's just stuck with me in such a way that I couldn't help but latch onto it and the possibilities that came with it!

So without further ado.... What do you think it would look like if Gojo got a mean case of amnesia? Be it permanent or temporary is completely undecided, but I just wonder how he would act. Would he be more serious/ toned down? Any more chaotic and an unabashed menace than what he already is? I just wonder about any and all differences that he would potentially have, be it personality, mannerisms, how he acted around/treated others, etc... I'd like to believe he would at the very least make enough haste to put 'remember who I am' on the To Do list, but he's just such??? An eccentric guy even with all of his memories, so it's an interesting head scratcher to imagine lol

Furthermore, because it's not enough to have one thought, but another, smaller one to latch onto the first. What if, while still suffering from amnesia Gojo essentially gets Isekai'd(?) into a world that is literally exactly the same in each and every way, but there isn't an ounce of cursed energy to be had. No sorcerers, no curses, nothing of the sort.

Plainly speaking, the jujutsu world has played a part in each and every aspect of Gojo's life, no matter how much he despised and fought it. So the idea of someone losing their memory is already quite unfortunate, no matter who they are, but to have to even attempt to re learn who they once were but also in a different world, one that is familiar, but distinctly off just enough, especially considering what exactly it is that's 'missing' in his case, sounds so incredibly lonely and isolating :(

Because realistically he would have no one to fall back to, to help him. It'd be a miracle if he stumbled upon a samaritan kind enough to give him the time of day. I imagine it'd be super overwhelming, and the ever growing sense of his existence just being so inherently 'wrong' would be?? Horrible (Because yes, he garners attention. He's pretty. But would anyone he approaches honestly take him seriously? Maybe readers the first one to finally take his words for what they are, maybe they meet when he's passed out outside of their job as they're closing up for the night and after an intense bout of screaming and a hurried sad excuse of an explanation on Gojo's part, some kind of odd understanding is had between the two)

(And in regards to the mentioned Isekai, I don't really know why/how this would happen, maybe when being sealed away he was literally just express mailed to our world, maybe he manages to finally beat the antagonist of the story/fulfills his role and the universe just??? Presses the evaporate button. Hell, considering all of the wild cursed techniques and energies going on in all of these intense fights it wouldn't surprise me if it made the worlds oddest cosmic cocktail and rips open a wormhole or smth lol)

Sksksksk that was an absolute monster of an ask, once more I hope that's okay lol ^^ hopefully my rambles weren't too wild and coherent enough, this train of thought has been going rampant in my head for the past couple of days and I just!!! Had to share it! Thank you so so much for your kind words and time, once again please know there is never any rush or pressure to respond, simply being able to write and send the idea off is more than enough for me! <:)

Oh, yes, I must make him more pathetic then. I'm actually not quite sure how, though, actually. I guess I would need to put him in a situation where he can display his pathetic loser tendencies (maybe I should consult Morgan over this…)

I'm gonna put the rest under a cut.

Anyway, Gojo with amnesia… I guess that depends on a couple things, like how deep is this amnesia going? Are we just wiping memories or does it run deeper and has he lost some character development too because I think there would be differences depending on these two scenarios. That said, I think that either way he would be more serious, maybe not necessarily more toned down, but a little less joking because he's missing his memories. But on the other side of that is that I don't think he'd be freaking out, or anything; he'd probably outwardly try to look like he's perfectly fine and nothing's wrong.

Then to be isekai'd. Your brain's really going for the double whammy there. To lose your memories and be transported to another world… I'd assume that he probably still can use his CT and stuff, though the amnesia also begs the question of how skilled he is with those. If anything, the Six Eyes probably still work, so he'd probably know right away that things do not look 'right.' Actually, I think he'd probably still need to use jujutsu because, like, then if he rememebred bits of pieces of his life while he's in this other world… he might think he's going insane. The mind-fuckery potential is wild! You could really play up the horror factor and I think that would be a lot of fun!

And then having a reader who is kind and open-minded and… I do think he'd try to do things on his own because he's kind of like that, so I think a reader would have to be like "I am helping you and that is that."

I think that using his boxing would be a good way to, like, easily whisk him away. But, if he's there temporarily it does seem a little bit sad. I mean amnesia, I feel like, usually ends up being an angsty trope so… are you a little angst gremlin anon? I mean how else do people get isekai'd… Gojo vs Truck-chan… who would win? LMAO. An other worldly wormhole could be good too… I think that gives the chance for other characters from JJK to pop up. I think if any of his students came for him and he asked them 'well who are you guys?' they might actually think he was fucking around and not actually amnesic. LMAO.

And no worries on ask length! I'm happy to soundboard for you or anyone else for that matter! I mean I did input some opinion, but I hope you don't mind that. But thank you so much for sharing with me!! uwu

#on anon #how else do i even tag this himmm

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dino-boyo-agere · 2 years ago

Text

I just got blocked, after leaving a comment and I want to make sure, I wasn't being rude.

[❗censored their tag, to avoid them getting any hate❗]

I saw this "anti Tyler Posey" post on my timeline:

I like Tyler, you don't have to. No hard feelings. Everyone has their own opinion, I was just really curious, to learn more about their motivation for that post and wanted to inquire why OP was so upset with/ angry at Posey..

*¹ In my first comment, I asked why OP was so upset and if maybe Tyler did something bad I haven't heard about yet.

*² They responded, listing these "bad" things Tyler had apparently done:

"brought up the teen Wolf Movie"

"faked his sexuality"

and "did Onlyfans"

*³ I counterargued, that:

He didn't make the movie, but just acted in it. As an actor, he's not really involved in writing the script or developing the plot. So that's not on him. ╰→ (Granted, I also think the movie is really bad, so had they just said "played in awful movie" I wouldn't have objected to that lmao).

He didn't "fake his sexuality", since his queerness doesn't evaporate, just because he's in a 'straight relationship' at the moment. Aswell as it's not "faking" when he playes a character with a different sexuality from his own, that's just part of the job.

Him having (had) an Onlyfans is nothing bad, because it's a completely normal way to earn money in the current day and age. Besides, as an adult, Tyler entitled to make adult content if he so wishes.. And sex work is still real work, there is nothing shameful about it.

And then they blocked me:

So, was I being rude or where they just not interested in a discussion?

Personally, I love discussing topics with people I disagree with, It can be really eye-opening to hear their viewpoint. That can help us (people) understand each other better, at least when their opinion isn't harmful, of course.

.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.✧.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.

I see it this way:

Your opinion is your truth. It's what you feel or think is right at the moment. To you, it's most likely factual. Even if you find out a belief you held was factually wrong, that's okay. As long as it's not hurting anyone, you're entitled to still see it as your truth anyways. No one has the right to tell you what to believe in, silence you or to attack you, just because they disagree or because your opinion is 'factually wrong'. Other times, you learn that an option you previously held was actually harmful. That's okay too, as long as you simply move on from it, acknowledging your mishaps and growing from the experience. Only if you choose to stand by a harmful belief, then you should be held accountable.

But I can also see how many people don't seek that kind of conversation. Many just want to be right, don't accept others truths or even take it personal, when someone disagrees with them. And that's okay, that's totally valid. As long as your opinion isn't harmful to anyone, you are entitled to hold that opinion and refuse to indulge in any argument about or against it.

I'm not upset that they blocked me, by the way. It's their right to do so, if they don't want to interact with me. I just hope I didn't make them so uncomfortable or upset, that they didn't see another option but to block me. But then again, they never replied back.

That's basically all I wanted to say, sorry for the rambling and thanks for reading lol

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･».ﾟ°･⁠✧ ↓ DNI ↓ ✧･° ﾟ.«･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

banner by @froggy-clubhouse

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m1ckeyb3rry · 3 months ago

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hii!! could i request for a kiyora jin fic?

── WICKED GAME

Synopsis: The first time you see him, Jin Kiyora spits blood at your feet. That is when you are sure you will love him.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Kiyora x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: alcohol/hangovers, reader is drunk and at a party in the first part, mentions of drug use and smoking but NOT by reader or kiyora, blood and violence, sooo much swearing at one point, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…, kiyora is down to punch an mf at all times, he’s probably ooc (if it’s even possible for him to be ooc??), he is NOT bestie approved but like he’s actually a cutie i promise, open ending, implied to be a college au but there’s nothing scholarly or collegiate about it except for the party and the sports mentions, many liberties are taken with kiyora’s backstory and character alike

A/N: hiiii omg i’ve never written kiyora before!! i hope i kinda did him justice?? EEK LMAOAO okay also i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to go in a specific direction so i picked one at random and left it kinda (very) open ended so that way if you/anyone else likes it i can write a pt2 but if not it’s nbd!! it’s just that as you can see it’s already kinda long and i didn’t want to write a ton if people weren’t fucking w it yk 😭 ANYWAYS rambling aside i hope you enjoy!!

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

There is a man screaming at you. You know that he is screaming because his voice pierces the drunken haze settled over your mind, shame shooting through that spinning, floating sensation, and you know it is at you specifically because he is glaring and it’s not at your best friend or the other girl you came with, it’s at you and only you. He’s glaring and saying something over and over again, but all you can do is tilt your head at him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he says. “Get the fuck out. Why the fuck are you still here?”

More of his sentences than not are just that word. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s unnecessarily angry. You try to think — what did you do? Your best friend places one hand on your arm, and you’re pretty sure she’s telling you it’s not worth it, that you all should just go, but your drink is still half-full and you want to finish it before you leave.

“Why are you mad?” you mumble, fascinated by the pinkness of the alcohol, the way it contrasts against the white plastic of your cup.

His eyes are open and wild, and before you know it he is reaching out for you. Your best friend pulls you back just in time, and she shrieks for help as his fingers close around nothing, but the music is loud and the crowd is thick and there’s no way anyone will hear her.

You’re still confused. The man is still angry. You try to recall the conversation you’ve had with him up until this point — well, it wasn’t really much of a conversation to begin with. What had even happened?

“He’s on something,” your best friend hisses in your ear as she ushers you through the crowd. “No way this is just a couple of beers talking. All you did was ask him if his watch was real, and he totally flipped out.”

Right, that does sound familiar. You giggle as she shoves you outside, because it’s altogether hilarious. The other girl is hanging onto your best friend’s other arm and whining about how you had to leave the party early, and your best friend’s face is pale, her hair sticking to her forehead, but you’re not thinking about any of that. At least, it’s not at the forefront of your mind; instead, you’re wondering why that man has followed the three of you.

“I’m going to call the cops if you don’t leave!” he says, and it’s all you can do to lurch backwards as he stops on the porch. He’s intimidating, you can see that better in the light, and even though you’re more lost than anything, you’re pretty sure you should be afraid, too.

“Is this even your house?” you say sleepily. “Won’t the cops shut down your party first?”

It’s not his party or his house. You know that because the person who threw it is the one who invited you and your friends, but for some reason, this man is dead-set on the fact that you are some kind of intruder.

“The only ones that’ll be getting in trouble if the cops come are you guys, for fucking trespassing,” he snaps. “You’re not invited here!”

“We are,” you say. “Wanna see?”

You’re about to pull out your phone, but your best friend slaps your hand and shakes her head. The man is flushed now, and slowly, you put the phone back in your pocket, pursing your lips and avoiding his gaze.

“I’m serious. Don’t make me say it again, you fucking—”

“Woah, dude. Didn’t know that was your new thing,” a new voice says. You don’t recognize the speaker, but you can tell that he’s pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes that shimmer in the flickering porch light. He’s sitting on the porch swing, his feet kicked up on the railing, and there’s an unlit cigarette in his hands. When he notices you staring at it, he shrugs and flicks it to the ground. “It’s not mine. Some girl asked if I wanted it and left before I could say no.”

“Kiyora,” the man sneers. His attention has been diverted entirely, and the newcomer — Kiyora — stands casually, lazily. He’s slouching, but you can tell despite his posture that he’s a slip of a person, with needle-like features and a scowl that somehow resembles a grin.

“Sup,” he says. “You into bothering girls now?”

“Stay out of this,” the man says. “You weren’t invited, either.”

“Eh,” Kiyora says. “I don’t need an invitation.”

“I’m being serious,” he said. “You don’t get what a fucking bitch she is.”

Kiyora glances over at you, and it’s like he’s weighing his options. And although it would be just as easy for you to run — it’s what your best friend is urging you to do, it’s what you should do — you can’t help but wait. You can’t help but want to know what he’ll decide.

“Y/N,” your best friend pleads. “Come on, let’s just go while we can.”

“I want another drink,” the other girl says. “Just one more shot? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“No more shots tonight,” your best friend says. “Y/N, I’m being serious.”

That’s when Kiyora smiles slightly, and then he’s drawing his fist back and punching the man. Your best friend gasps, and even the other girl yelps, but you are enthralled by it. The man howls, and then he’s charging at Kiyora and they’re falling down the porch stairs and it’s a whirlwind of blows and shouts and cursing as they rip up the grass of the front yard with the fury of their spat.

It’s over almost as soon as it begins. The man’s collar is clenched in one of Kiyora’s fists, and his eyes are glimmering with tears at the way Kiyora looms over him, the other fist prepared to hit him again. The hollows of the man’s face are all blue and bruised, and he slaps lightly against Kiyora’s forearm in surrender. Kiyora gives him a measured look that’s somehow mocking, and then he lets him go. He stays on the ground, lying prone and motionless, and your best friend — she’s always been so empathetic, even though hardly anyone ever deserves it — tells the other girl to sit and wait before she rushes inside to alert the owner of the house.

“There we go,” Kiyora says, dusting himself off and springing to his feet, rolling his shoulders like he’s waking up from a long nap. “What a wimp. Can’t be talking that kind of shit if you don’t even have the skills to back it up.”

“You stood up for me,” you say. “Thank you.”

He raises his eyebrows, and then he makes a face. You realize he’s not escaped unscathed at the exact moment that he spits a mouthful of blood into the grass before you, his lower lip shiny and split, the same angry color as the crimson in the grass. You gaze at the way it dissolves into the dirt, and then you step over it, meaning to embrace him but mostly just collapsing into his arms. He catches you by reflex, not out of desire, and then he snorts.

“It’s not like I really did it for you, so don’t thank me,” he says. His nose is bleeding, too. You’re sure of it, because something warm dribbles onto your shirt, the stain blooming like rust against the lacy left strap. It’s a white top, thin and deep in the front, and it’s one of your favorites, but shockingly, you’re not angry that it’s been ruined.

“Why’d you do it, then?” you say.

“Couldn’t tell you,” he says. “I guess I just thought that your side was the right one to pick this time.”

To you, it sounds like the same thing, but it must’ve meant something different, because he sounds incredibly sure of himself. You hum in agreement, and then Kiyora nudges you off of him, motioning over to where the other girl — she’s your best friend’s new roommate, and you think her name might start with a C, but you can’t really recall — is sitting on the curb alone.

“Go sit with your friend,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, though you pause before you can join her. “Wait. Is your name Kiyora?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Y/N,” you say. “I’m Y/N.”

“’Kay,” he says. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Nice to meet you, Kiyora.”

He finds this funny, chuckling as you stumble over to the curb, sitting next to the girl, who’s texting someone with a big red x in their contact name. That probably means she shouldn’t be talking to them, but all you do is lean your head against her shoulder. You’re not the type to reprimand anyone, not when you’re like this. Maybe a few drinks or a few hours earlier, you would’ve said something, but at the moment, your mind is preoccupied with your newest fixation.

Your best friend comes out with the owner of the house, and then she makes a beeline for where you are sitting. Helping you to your feet, she drags you back in the direction of her apartment, plucking her roommate’s phone out of her hands and ignoring her arguments, instead turning to you.

“What the hell happened to your shirt?” she says. “Did that — did they hurt you too? Are you okay?”

“What?” you say. “No, I’m fine. Hey, listen. I want him.”

“Want who?” she says.

“Kiyora,” you say.

“The dude who beat that other guy up?” she says. You nod. Her brows knit together, and she shakes her head. “You need to sober up.”

“I’ll still want him when I’m sober,” you say.

“Then you’re sick in the head,” she says. “But I guess that’s nothing new.”

The next morning, you wake up on your best friend’s couch. Your makeup is blurred and messy on your face, the remnants of your mascara forming dark shadows under your eyes, and your clothes are rumpled. You are close to throwing up, and your head is pounding, so you trudge over to the bathroom, which is thankfully empty.

In the mirror, things look even worse. Your once-white shirt has remnants of your drink splashed on the front, and the left strap is a flaky sanguine, the color bleeding into the place where your heart beats behind your breast. It’s frightening at first, but dimly, you remember that the blood is not your own. It nearly could’ve been, but it isn’t, because you were saved. Someone took your side, and he saved you, and it’s his blood that you’re covered in.

“Damn.” It’s your best friend’s other roommate, the one who didn’t go out with you three last night. You don’t remember her name, either, or maybe she just never introduced herself. “What kind of night did you have?”

“Not my best,” you admit with a yawn.

“Yeah, no shit,” she says, going to the other sink and running her toothbrush under the water. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say, because anything more makes the knife in your head twist more and more. “Just need a shower. Some dude freaked out on us last night.”

“Is that what happened?” she says. “D’you need a doctor or something?”

“It’s not mine,” you say. “Some other guy fought him off for me. His nose bled all over my shoulder when I tried hugging him afterwards.”

“What a hero,” she says, running a washcloth along her face. “Was he cute?”

“Does that matter?” you say. She winks at you in the mirror.

“Obviously. If he’s good-looking, you should try to find him and thank him while you’re sober. If he’s not, then you can just let it go,” she says.

“Yeah, he was cute,” you say after thinking about it for a moment. “I’m pretty sure I liked him. Last night, I mean.”

“Yeah?” she says. “Did you get a name or some other way to contact him?”

“Uh, his name is Kiyora, I think,” you say.

“Kiyora?” she says. “What does he look like?”

“He’s not that tall,” you say. “Dark hair. Pretty eyes, though I can’t quite remember what color they were.”

“I can’t say I know him,” she says. “Maybe you can try social media, though.”

“I think that might be my best bet,” you agree, taking off your shirt and tossing it to the ground, stepping out of your pants and reaching into the cabinet for a spare towel. “Do you mind if I just shower in here?”

“No worries, I’m almost done,” she says, squeezing sunscreen out of a small tube and massaging it into her cheeks. “You know how to work the shower?”

“Yup. Spent more nights here than I’d like to admit,” you said. The girl laughs at this, patting you on the shoulder.

“Happens to the best of us. Better you’re here than with some random guy, though, right?” she says.

“Right,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Hope you can find him!” she says, and then she’s shutting the bathroom door behind her. You reach out and lock it before stripping fully, turning the faucet so that the water is as hot as you can bear and then sighing as it streams onto your face and body, rinsing off all of the proof of the previous night.

You kick your dirty clothes into a pile in the corner, wrapping a towel around your body and leaving the bathroom in a rush of steam. Your best friend is waiting in the kitchen, sipping coffee from a chipped mug, her hair in a messy bun and an untouched bowl of cereal in front of her. When she notices you, she smiles.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Good morning,” you say, ducking into her bedroom and pulling on the clothes you’d left in her closet weeks ago for times like these.

“How are you today?” she says.

“I’ve been better,” you say. “But I’m alive.”

“Want breakfast?” she says.

“I might throw up if I eat,” you say.

“You’ll definitely throw up if you don’t. Just eat something light,” she says, gesturing in the direction of her pantry, as if to say take what you want.

You sit across from her, a random snack with bears on the packaging in one hand and your phone in the other. There’s a litany of unread text messages that you need to go through, so you squint your eyes against the glare of the screen and begin to read them.

Most of them are just people from the party asking you if you’re doing alright, since to their knowledge you left abruptly and without explanation. There’s one from your own roommate, asking you if you’ve watered the plants on the balcony in the past few days or not. You give one-or-two word answers to the majority, but there’s one message that catches your eye.

‘Hey, Y/N. I’m really sorry about last night — apparently that guy brought a whole cocktail of drugs with him, and that’s why he went all crazy. I hope you’re okay, and that you don’t think badly of me now.’

There’s a crying emoji followed by a praying one. It’s the guy who invited you and your best friend to the party; ordinarily, you would’ve blocked him, but now you need his help, so, with a frown, you type out your response.

‘Honestly, it was pretty scary, but luckily that other guy was there, so nothing too awful happened. Speaking of which, do you know anything about him?’

There’s a pause that you can only imagine is him typing out his response, and then your darkening phone screen lights up with a notification.

‘Kiyora? He’s on the soccer team with a couple of my other friends. He’s not really close with any of them, but he’ll show up to our parties every now and again if they let him know where the address is. He’s kind of weird, but I guess it’s a good thing he happened to be there last night.’

‘Hm.’

‘His first name’s Jin, and apparently he’s addicted to grape candy — everyone makes fun of him for it. That’s about all I know.’

‘Thanks anyways.’

‘Anytime! Hope to see you at another party :)’

You consider blocking him now that you’ve gotten everything you can out of him, but there’s no point, so you just turn your phone off without responding, laying it face-down so you can ignore whoever else tries to reach out to you. Your best friend finally takes a bite of her cereal; you don’t know if she’s inspired by you or if she’s finally finished with her coffee. When you look over at her mug, you find it’s the latter.

“How much do you remember?” she asks you.

“Enough,” you say. “I’m going to find him.”

“Kiyora?” she says. When you nod, she can only pinch the bridge of her nose. “I should’ve known.”

“What do you have against him? He helped us out,” you say.

“Besides the fact that he beat that guy’s face into a pulp?” she says.

“That guy would’ve done the same to me,” you say.

“Not if you had just left when I told you to,” she reminds you. You can’t rebut this, and she knows it, because she tries her level best to avoid sounding condescending in the ensuing statement. “That’s the kind of person that you’re supposed to avoid, you know.”

“We don’t know anything about him,” you say. “We can’t judge him based on one night, especially given the circumstances.”

“That’s true,” she says. She’s like that, always quicker to give allowances than you are. You’re sure she’ll forgive him before he even realizes he’s done anything to forgive. “So, what, you just want to see what kind of person he is and go from there?”

“Basically,” you say, even though the more you mull it over, the more you’re convinced that there’s not really much that’ll change your mind. She wipes at a droplet of milk that lingers on the corner of her mouth, and then she exhales heavily.

“Yeah, alright,” she says. “I don’t think anything I say is going to stop you, so why bother?”

“You know me so well,” you say. “Want anything from the convenience store? I need to get some aspirin. My head is killing me.”

“Mine, too,” she says with a groan. “Can you get a pack for me? I think we’re out.”

“Sure,” you say, slinging your purse over your shoulder and shoving your feet in a pair of slippers. You’re pretty sure you look horrible, all lumpy and formless in an outfit that’s about two sizes too large for you, but you can’t be bothered to change, and at least you’re clean, which is more than you could say an hour ago. Waving at your best friend, you leave her apartment, careful to shut the door slowly, so as not to wake up her final roommate, who is still sleeping soundly. You envy her a bit, but then again, if you had woken up any later, you’d have had to add grogginess to your list of complaints, so maybe it’s for the best.

The convenience store is fairly empty. There’s a cashier dozing off by the checkout station, and a television showing the security footage — you stop and wave at your reflection, as you always do — but other than that, you’re the only one in the building.

As you’re browsing through the medicine section, weighing the merits of buying the generic version or if you should just get the name-brand, there is the swooshing sound of the automatic doors sliding open. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, so you pick up two boxes of the generic kind and make your way to the cashier, but then you freeze, because the figure which has slipped into the candy section is one you wouldn’t normally pay attention to but has suddenly become one you are particularly concerned with.

“Kiyora!” you hiss, ducking into the candy aisle. To your delight, he spins around at once, and he looks much the same as you remembered him from the previous night, which means it really is him. A violet mark stands out angrily against the paleness of his cheek, and his lower lip is still a bit swollen, but he wears it well, like some kind of badge of honor.

At first, he narrows his eyes at you, but then they light up with recognition, and he smiles imperceptibly. It’s barely there, barely enough to be qualified as a smile in the first place, yet you know that that’s what it is.

“Hey,” he says. “Hangover hitting you bad?”

He’s talking about the medicine in your hands. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Pretty much,” you say. “What about you?”

“I didn’t drink last night,” he says. “It’s bad for your body, and I’m supposed to maintain mine. Top athlete and all, you know how it is.”

This is accompanied by a subtle roll of his eyes, and you snicker at his impudence.

“Naturally,” you say. “But I was referring more to, ah…that.”

You don’t really know a more graceful way to refer to it, but he seems to pick up on what you’re talking about.

“I’ve had worse,” he says. “He really was all bark and no bite. Wasn’t a big deal.”

“Still, thank you again,” you say.

“Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t for you? Don’t say thanks. It’s embarrassing,” he says.

“On my part or yours?” you say.

“Both,” he says.

“Alright, sorry,” you say. “But wait. What do you mean, you’ve had worse?”

“I dabbled in boxing for a while,” he says.

“You played two affiliated sports at once?” you say. “That’s impressive.”

“Well, one of them wasn’t affiliated,” he says, stooping over and picking up a box of grape candy — of course, he was reputedly obsessed with it, so you shouldn’t have been surprised by his presence in the convenience store at all. “I guess a better name would be street fighting. My older brother got into it after he didn’t cut it as a soccer player, and he convinced me to try it out for a bit. It was good money.”

“That’s cool,” you say, somewhat at a loss for words, finding it all too easy to imagine him in that kind of situation.

“Lame as hell, actually,” he says. “I’m better at soccer, anyways.”

He says it so nonchalantly that you have to laugh. He’s taken aback, and he doesn’t laugh along with you, but he’s clearly not upset, because that same not-smile remains on his face.

“That’s good to hear,” you say. “I don’t know if my best friend would approve of me talking to an underground street fighter.”

“You can safely tell her I’m reformed,” he says. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“You remembered?” you say.

“I told you I didn’t drink last night. Why would I forget?” he says.

“That’s true,” you say. “Yeah. Y/N.”

“Got any reason to be talking to me against your best friend’s wishes, Y/N?” he says, walking by your side towards the cashier. The way your name sounds coming from him is different. He says it like it’s the final piece to a game that he’s been wanting to play, and you’re not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but if it’s the latter, then it’s too late. Somehow, he’s made it so that this game is one you want to play, too, or maybe it’s that you’re playing it already, have been playing it since before you even knew of its existence.

“I guess our ideas of what’s in my best interests just don’t align,” you say.

“Is that so? What does she believe to be in your best interests?” he says.

“Staying away from you,” you say.

“And you?” he says.

“The opposite,” you say, swiping your credit card and putting the twin boxes of medicine into the wide front pocket of your sweatshirt. He does the same, opening the box of grape candy and popping a piece into his mouth. You notice that he does not offer you one, but you weren’t hoping he would, so you’re not disappointed or anything. Just amused.

“Interesting,” he says. “What about me makes you sure that being around me is in your best interests?”

“I’m sure my chances of getting hurt will be a lot less, for one,” you say.

“Not necessarily,” he says. “Maybe I won’t take your side one day. Maybe I’ll be the one to hurt you. Then what happens?”

“Hm,” you say. It’s such a bizarre thing to say to someone who you’ve only met one-and-a-half times — the meeting last night only counts for half, considering how out of your mind you were — but he does it with a straight face, like it’s a serious dilemma. “I don’t think you’d do that.”

“You don’t?” he says.

“Nah,” you say. “I’d never provoke you into fighting me.”

“How can you be sure of that?” he says. You tear open the aspirin’s cardboard packaging, swallowing the pill dry and praying it works quickly. It catches in your throat, so you swallow again in an attempt to dislodge it. Kiyora watches you, and once you are successful in the endeavor, he silently hands you a piece of grape candy.

“People tell me I’m easy to get along with,” you say. The candy is sour and sparkles in your mouth; you do your best to savor the taste, but it’s gone as soon as you’re aware of it, melting away into air on your tongue.

“That guy from last night didn’t seem to think so,” he points out.

“He was mad that I asked if his watch was real. Normal people wouldn’t care about that,” you say. “I doubt you would.”

“I guess I wouldn’t,” he says. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you say, though you don’t quite know what you’re agreeing to. He gives you another piece of candy, and then he actually smiles; the tip of his tongue is purple, too, just like that bruise of his. You wonder if yours will turn the same shade, and then you accept the candy regardless. It’s kind of delightful, the thought of matching with him in that secret way.

“You’re kind of funny, Y/N,” he says.

“I do my best,” you say. “You’re not bad yourself.”

“You’re probably the only person who thinks that,” he says.

“Then maybe the others are missing out,” you say. He glances at the ground, but you think he seems happy, not upset.

“Maybe,” he says.

“Anyways, I should probably get back,” you say, because you’ve reached the intersection where you have to turn right, and it seems he has every intention of going straight. “But I can see you again, right?”

He cocks his head at you, and then, magically, he produces a pen from the pocket of his sweatpants, which are of that infuriating depth that supposedly only men deserve. Scribbling something on the box of grape candy, he presses it in your hand.

“Later,” he says, because the light has changed and he has to cross the street now. You watch him go, and then you peer at the small box. His handwriting is cramped and spiky, but you can make it out without too much trouble.

The box is empty, devoid of anything sweet, but he’s given you a much greater treasure, so you hold it close to your heart as you scurry to your best friend’s apartment, trying to fight back the grin that threatens to split your face the entire way back.

“So, let me get this straight — he gave you his phone number?” your best friend says. She had showered in the time you spent at the convenience store, and now that she has an aspirin in her system and moisturizer on her face, she looks like an entirely different person, a brighter and more cheerful one who isn’t going to judge you for whatever you say next.

“Yes,” you say, incredibly focused on creating a new contact for Kiyora. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Depends on who you’re asking,” she says.

“Me,” you say.

“Then yeah, I’d say so,” she says. “He’s obviously into you.”

“I hope so,” you say.

“Who wouldn’t be?” she says. “You know what this means, right? It’s time for us to do reconnaissance.”

You grin, because you know exactly what that means. She pulls out her tablet and opens it to a random social media site, and so begins your investigation into the enigma that is Jin Kiyora.

“What the fuck?” you say. The two of you have been working for longer than you’d like to admit, yet you’ve learned frighteningly little about him. He plays soccer, and he seems to be quite good at it, given the few blurry highlights you managed to dredge up from his high school days. He has two brothers, both of whom post a ton but never about him. He once made the news in his hometown for breaking the mayor’s son’s nose — your best friend clicks her tongue at that, but you are sure he had a reason for doing it, so you remain unfazed. Otherwise, though, there’s nothing. He’s inactive on social media, which makes you doubly glad that you ran into him earlier, and if he has friends, then none of them seem to want to make that information public.

“It’s like he doesn’t exist,” your best friend says. “Honestly, I kind of fuck with it.”

“That’s a change of tune,” you say. She hums, typing something into her tablet and then shaking her head when the search results come up empty.

“Well, you know. It’s always nice when a man isn’t active online. Although, then again, in this case it could be because he doesn’t want a digital footprint that incriminates him or something,” she says.

“He’s not a criminal,” you say. She taps her finger against the article about him breaking the mayor’s son’s nose, and you cringe. “Okay, but he wasn’t arrested for that, so I’m technically still right.”

“Uh, sure, but this is the second account we have of him getting in a fight. Who knows? Maybe it’s like a hobby for him,” she says. At that moment, you decide to omit the fact that it actually was a hobby for him until an indeterminate amount of time ago.

“We don’t know why he did it,” you say. “Maybe the mayor’s kid was a bully. The guy last night definitely was. Come on, you can’t say you’re not at least a little grateful to him for stepping in and sticking up for us.”

He has insisted twice now that he didn’t do it for you, but you’ll take anything that endears him to your best friend, so you don’t mention that, either.

“That whole situation was terrifying,” she says, hugging herself tightly. “For one, it was scary that that guy flipped out on you, but it’s not like seeing Kiyora beat him up was particularly soothing.”

“You’re nicer than me by far,” you say, for probably the thousandth time. “I found it pretty gratifying to watch. I mean, he had no trouble threatening us; why shouldn’t he have had to back up his words with action? Obviously, he wasn’t expecting us to be able to fight back, so he ran his mouth to his heart’s content, but he had the misfortune of doing it in front of the wrong person, and he got what was coming for him. That’s his fault. So, in a sense, what Kiyora did was just a form of justice.”

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” she says. “I still kinda feel bad for the other guy, considering he definitely wasn’t in his senses, and after all Kiyora did punch him first, but it was a tense atmosphere. Who knows how another person might’ve reacted? It’s wrong to judge when things were so precarious and prone to snapping at any second. Of course, what he did wasn’t perfect, but you can’t really expect perfection from anyone, can you?”

Again, she’s better than you. You don’t know if you will ever feel bad for the man from last night, or if you could ever forgive someone as quickly as she has forgiven Kiyora. But if you count all of the times she’s proven to be the gentler of you two, it’ll take you ages, so you just add this occasion to the list and internally celebrate your good fortune.

“I’m going to text him,” you say, showing her your phone screen.

“What are you going to say?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Maybe hi, to start?”

“Make sure you add your name, since he doesn’t have your number,” she says.

“Oh, good idea,” you say, typing out your initial message and handing it to her so she can proofread it. She nods, and you hit send, a pit forming in your stomach as you wait for a text back.

‘Hi! This is Y/N from earlier!’

It’s almost immediate, his response, and you high-five your best friend when your phone vibrates, deciding to forget the whole play-it-cool advice that’s so predominant online and opening it immediately.

‘Hi Y/N.’

A second later, there’s another buzz, and another text. You laugh when you see it, because it’s very tongue-in-cheek and already, you can imagine the kind of expression that he’s wearing as he’s typing, although you hardly know him.

‘This is Kiyora btw.’

“He’s not afraid to joke around,” your best friend says, reading over your shoulder. “That’s a good sign. Imagine he was super dry and boring over text. You’d have to ghost him.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “What should I say now?”

Before she can respond, he’s sent another text. This earns a round of applause and a whoop from her, albeit a quiet one, since the roommate you went out with last night is somehow still asleep.

“Triple text!” she says. “This is great! Ah, I mean. It’s great if you still want him.”

“Of course I do,” you say, heat rising in your face as you realize what’s he’s just asked you.

‘So. Are you free next Saturday?’

The restaurant Kiyora tells you to meet him at is the opposite of fancy. You almost mistake it for a gas station, because it’s right next to one and located at random on the side of the road, but luckily you stop the car in time and manage to pull into the parking lot. You’re a little overdressed, but at least you’ll make a good impression, or so you hope, because the last few times you’ve seen him haven’t exactly shown off your greatest assets.

He’s already inside, though he hasn’t sat at a table yet and you’re ten minutes early. The place is almost empty save for him and a few employees, and the lights are a harsh, fluorescent white that throws his features into greater relief, but the effect’s a little angelic. A bell chimes to announce your entrance, and he glances over his shoulder, his furrowed brow relaxing when he sees that it’s you.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you say. A cheesy ballad from either the late 80s or the early 90s plays from the radio at the counter, and a ceiling fan whirs in the background, but it’s otherwise pretty quiet.

“It’s my uncle’s place,” he says, leading you to a table without waiting for the hostess — a girl of probably about sixteen or seventeen, who’s playing on her phone and doesn’t look up at either of you — to do anything. “Got him to close early for the night so it’s just us.”

“Oh, wow,” you say. “Thank you. That’s actually really sweet.”

He hands you a menu. “I don’t like being around that many people. It’s a little claustrophobic.”

“I get it,” you say. “I think every time I’ve ended up in a big crowd, it’s ended kinda badly for me, so it’s nice to not have to worry about that.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says. For a moment, neither of you say anything, though probably for different reasons — he’s busy reading a menu, and you’re trying to think of a way to bring up his past grievances, especially the ones of the punching-a-mayor’s-son variety, without sounding like a stalker.

“What made you quit street fighting?” you say.

“Do you want appetizers?” he says, at exactly the same time. Then he pauses, your question registering. “Oh.”

“Appetizers are good,” you say.

“It was just too much,” he says. “I don’t know. I never liked it. I only stayed because I got paid well, but it became more trouble than it was worth.”

“What’s that mean?” you say. He’s obviously a bit uncomfortable with the line of questioning, squirming in his seat, but your best friend is right. That’s the kind of thing you should probably know about him before you let yourself get any deeper.

“The mayor’s jackass son started showing up, placing bets and all. He was a real dick,” he begins. You’re surprised that you’ve ended up at your end goal already; you were sure it’d take a bit more prodding until you reached the heart of the story, but it seems you’ve chanced upon it without even trying. He rolls his eyes and scoffs as he continues. “One time he asked if he could try fighting himself. Picked me as his opponent because I was the shortest and, therefore, the weakest. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you say, though not without a snicker, because from what you know of him, you doubt he could be considered the weakest in any company. “Then what?”

“Then I did the world a favor and broke his ugly fucking nose so he had an excuse to fix it, that’s what,” he says. “His dad wasn’t too happy.”

“That’s to be expected,” you say.

“Yup. After that, he told me I had to get my act together or there would be real disciplinary consequences, so I gave it up and focused everything I had on soccer instead,” he says.

“I’m glad,” you say.

“Are you?” he says.

“You probably don’t get hurt quite as much playing soccer,” you say. “Even though it’s possible to get injured, it’s not as common.”

“True,” he says. “Most players are just faking it, anyways, so it’s definitely not common in the slightest.”

“Well, that’s all. I think it’s better that you don’t get hurt,” you say. “I don’t want you to. So stick with soccer.”

His lips form a thin, hard line, but there are dimples in his cheeks that make it obvious what he’s trying to suppress. Clearing his throat, he reopens his menu and points at one of the appetizers.

“Is this one alright with you?” he asks.

You’re looking at him when you answer, not the menu. Whatever it is, you’ll eat it, or if it’s really horrible, you’ll leave it for him. You’d rather spend that precious second admiring his features when he’s unaware of your gaze. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

His eyes flick up to meet your own, and then, impossibly, a pale pink blush dusts across his nose and cheeks.

“I’ll tell my uncle that that’s what we want, then,” he says, standing up and darting off towards the kitchens without another word. He walks with a kind of intrinsic rhythm, like he’s dancing, though there’s nothing about his gait otherwise that suggests any sort of musicality. It’s fascinating. He’s fascinating.

You are certain, before he even returns, before you even eat, before you even part ways, that this will not be the last time you see him. At least you pray it won’t be, because you think you’re like a moth, and he’s like a flame, and there’s enough stories about moths and flames that you know how these things typically end, or at least you’re pretty sure you do. It doesn’t matter, though. None of it matters, because you’ve never been so utterly taken by anything the way you are with Jin Kiyora and his bruised face and his split knuckles and his grape-colored tongue.

There’s another thing you’re certain of now, or have been for a while: you don’t love him yet, of course you don’t, but you will. Inescapably, inevitably, you will.

#kiyora x reader #kiyora x y/n #kiyora x you #kiyora jin #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #college au #m1ckeyb3rry requests #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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pikispixies · 9 months ago

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prepare yourselves for THE Spencer Reid series everyone!!! The only Spencer Reid series if you will😌✨

prepare yourself for my word splat below xx

something i looooveee about your cm fics, sunny, is how true the dialogue feels to the source material! Not just the dialogue actually but everything about the inner workings of the team and the dynamics between them all feel so real and authentic to cm. It immerses me in a way that I sometimes can’t find in other case fics!

The part where Spencer sees reader’s application among the potential victims feels so visceral. Like I can see the thoughts running through his head as I’m reading them and I can see the gears turning on his face, I can picture it so well!! And I attribute my ability to see it so well to you, Sunny dear!

This part-

There were no pictures included with the application, and suddenly, Spencer found himself dying to see the boy. He wanted to know if there was any physical resemblance to himself, or if he was jumping to conclusions.

-lowkey destroys me. I selfishly hope that Sebby looks EXACTLY like Spencer just to rub salt in the wound, I’m a sucker for stuff like that🤭

also this-

“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.”

“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply.

It was true. At the time, Spencer easily imagined himself getting married to you, having multiple kids with you. These days, seeing JJ with Henry and Will brought him the occasional underlying pang of jealousy - but since breaking up with you, there hadn’t been anyone else in Spencer’s life that he could have imagined having kids with. He thought that he was going to be alone and childless for the rest of his life. That the dream was long dead for him.

season 1/2 Spencer with a baby does make me giggle i’m ngl coz he was so baby face in the early seasons. But! I do agree that whenever we go see Spencer interact with kids in cm he is really good with them. This series will do Dad!Spencer such justice I just know it

anddd

Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more.

this makes me so excited for a future chap where we get to see Sebby and Spencer interact. It would be so heartbreaking knowing that you missed out on so much of your child’s life even if you didn’t know they existed like, an hour before that. Even if it was out of your control. I think you wrote that turmoil so well, it itches that angst scratch inside me so well.

AND THEIR FIRST DATE </3

it was soooo Spencer omgggg

His slightly nervouse ramblings about something that reader has expressed her interest in is so sweet to me. And that he was taken aback that reader actually engaged him in conversation about it :(( I would NEVER give you weird looks if you rambled to me about Bach, Spencer. You and your big fat brain are a TREASURE

Even their kiss made me so mushy and giggly. Spencer dropping his ice cream is so early-to-mid-2000s-rom-com of him, I loved that detail so much! Oh to shut Spencer up with a big ol’ smooch *forlorn sigh*

The long and short of it is, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU sunny for sharing your amazing talent with us!! Everything you write has such an immersive and tactile feel to it and I become totally absorbed with it and to me that is something I’m picky about when it comes to what fics I read and enjoy!! I know how much love and work you put into everything you bring here and I hope that you are getting your well deserved flowers 💐💐

Cannot wait till the next part!! You’ve got your hooks in me already <3<3<3<3

Careful - Chapter One

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Over Yet

We can go farther, beyond the end.

Summary:

You and Spencer broke up more than four years ago. Since then, he has tried his best to forget about you. He has pushed all of his feelings down - locked them away into a little box that he never touches.

That is, until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being stalked and killed by a man who kills single mothers. (And he quickly realizes that your son could be his.)

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.

Word Count: 5,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, the underlying misogyny that comes with a man killing women, mentions of children being orphaned due to their mothers being killed (though there is no mentions of other living family members taking care of those children - you can imaging that they still have nice families to take care of them if you want, I didn’t fill in that detail), mentions of children being in proximity of a serial killer; exes to lovers - the reader and Spencer broke up and the reason why will be revealed later; mentions of pregnancy/mentions of the reader having a child; mentions of sex that resulted in a child/pregnancy (there is no detailed sex scenes/detailed smut in this chapter, but there will be in other chapters); mentions of JJ x Will; the reader’s looks are described as vaguely as possible; passing mention of incest (in the context of a historical figure); all statements that Spencer makes toward the end of this chapter were heavily researched and are factual; I think that’s about it?

A/N: The reader and Spencer originally dated around Season 1/Season 2 - I state at some point during the fic that they dated for 3 years before breaking up, so they started dating when he was very early Season 1 baby Spence (or even before Season 1) and they broke up around Season 2. So technically this fic takes place around Season 6 - but because I didn't want to distract from the plot, I didn't mention any of the stuff going on with Emily or any of those major canon plot points, and I am using pictures of later versions of Spencer just because that's who I was picturing in my head while writing this. But that's how the math works out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!! This chapter is more of an introduction before we really get into the meat of things, but I still hope that you guys like it.

...

The team had been in Portland for three days.

No leads, a confusing, inconsistent profile - huge pieces missing that would likely give them the real answers.

A patient killer with an extended timeline who likely wouldn’t kill again for months - leaving them chasing their tails, looking for answers.

“Okay, so, let’s take a step back.” Hotch sighed. “What do we know so far?”

He leaned against a nearby table, looking at everyone with the hope of reassessing the case from a different angle. The hope of talking it out to get some answers.

Another woman’s body had been found just before they arrived, and that would mean that the UnSub would be out hunting again soon. This was both good and bad.

Good, because the UnSub clearly had to spend a lot of time stalking his victims - he knew a lot of details of their lives, and he had spent a lot of time developing an intimate fantasy of being a part of their family in his mind. So he wouldn’t be killing again the next day. No woman was in immediate danger. It gave the team more time to find viable suspects.

Bad because they had no physical evidence, no good leads. And thus far, the profile was leading them nowhere. It felt incomplete.

They could find no real connections between the victims - their gyms, their banks, their childcare, their grocery stores. Somehow, the victims didn’t seem to have any crossover in their lives. There was no real way to say how the UnSub had met them. And someone like this - he would have interacted with them at least once in order to become obsessed and stalk them to this degree.

“Five women dead within the last three years.” Prentiss announced, starting to round up the facts that the team knew for certain. “All of them mothers, all with children under the age of five. All within the same ten square mile radius of Oregon, around Portland’s suburban neighborhoods.”

She slumped back into her chair with a tired huff, and then continued.

“The UnSub breaks into their homes through a backdoor or a back window, and somehow goes undetected in such an upscale neighborhood.” She sighed. “He kills the mothers, but he leaves their children alive. And then he calls 9-1-1 to report the death as a case of child neglect.”

“So he was likely neglected by his own mother in his childhood.” Morgan easily theorized.

“All of the victims upper-middle class, single mothers to one child with good jobs. All of them are of the same physical type.” Rossi added on. “They’re the same race, they have the hair color, they’re the same body type - all in their late twenties to early thirties. So the UnSub definitely has a type. He’s most definitely recreating a fantasy of some kind - perhaps taking out revenge on his own mother, but protecting himself. Which is why he never hurts the children.”

“Yeah, but the children are different.” Morgan replied. “Sometimes boys, sometimes girls. Some of them are biracial - he doesn’t look for a specific type in the father. He doesn’t necessarily need to see himself in the children.”

Then, as another thought occurred to him, Morgan continued on:

“Plus, the children’s ages vary from barely a year old all the way up to five - if he was looking to seek revenge on his mother, looking to protect a younger version of himself, then he would have locked in on a critical event that he needs to protect himself from. The age of the children would be more consistent, at least, because he would be looking to protect himself as he hits the age that he was most traumatized by a specific event.”

“That’s good.” Hotch nodded. “Then we know that it’s more about the mothers. He hates women at his core. Protecting the children is just a byproduct of his obsession over these women.”

“But we still have no clue how these women could be connected or how they met the UnSub.” Morgan replied, jaw stiff with frustration.

“Focus on what we do know.” Hotch reminded him.

“All of the women were killed via stabbing. They all had over a dozen stab wounds to their stomachs and genital areas.” Rossi replied. “So, he is an aggressive sexual sadist.”

“But if he hates women so much, why spend so much time in the house?” Morgan argued gently. “Every single one of these scenes has evidence that the UnSub spent hours - possibly up to a day in the house before he killed them. He cooked dinner, set the table, and made the women eat it before he killed them. Including a second place setting for a child. Some of the kids even said that ‘the scary man’ tucked them into bed and read them a story.”

He held up one of the crime scene photos that depicted the scene of the family’s place settings - a haunting scene of plates not cleaned up from dinner, with a flower vase sitting in the middle of the table with a few white flowers wilting inside of it.

“He’s right - why bother to show them the kindness of a last meal if he shows so much aggression toward them during the killing?” Prentiss added on.

“It’s a routine.” Hotch said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. “It’s likely that he chooses single mothers because he gets to play the role of the father. With the real father figure absent from the picture, it makes it easier for him to impose himself into that role. At least for a temporary amount of time.”

“It is strange.” Reid added on, clearly swimming in thought. “It’s almost like he’s courting them? Sending them gifts, showing what a good father he could be. Each of the women were sent white carnations sometime in the days before they were killed, and after the killing, he lays the flowers around their head in a halo-like fashion. It is said that carnations represent motherhood, and the white shade could depict an angelic innocence that he’s projecting onto these women.”

“So he views these women as angelic figures, yet he kills them so brutally?” Prentiss scoffed. “It just doesn’t add up.”

“Maybe he views the killing itself as a type of purification.” Reid theorized. “It’s not uncommon for killers to emotionally fetishize dead bodies and consider them more ‘pure’ than their living counterparts.”

Prentiss visibly cringed at this.

“Wait.” JJ said, looking at one of the crime scene photos with a sharp line pulling her brows together.

Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to finish this thought.

“I don’t think that the mothers were the only ones sent gifts.”

She held up the photo, showing a picture of a colorful child’s play mat in the living room. Everyone stared at the photo in confusion, and JJ sighed and began to explain.

“Look at this toy truck in the middle.” She said, pointing at something that almost blended into the background of the photo. The true focus was a large handprint - one that belonged to the killer, but he had worn gloves. “It’s wooden, it’s hand-carved, it’s old fashioned. All the other toys are plastic, brightly coloured. Remember what the UnSub said in the second 9-1-1 call?”

“‘She pretends to have her son’s best interests at heart, but she was going to let him get cancer from sucking on those cheap plastic toys.’” Reid said, repeating it word-for-word, using his impeccable memory.

“Exactly.” JJ confirmed with a nod. “Clearly the UnSub believes that he would be a good father because he can gift his child something hand-made instead of something mass produced.”

“Alright, get the crime scene techs back over there to pick up the truck, maybe he wasn’t wearing gloves when he made it and there is some slim chance he left a print on it.” Hotch said, and JJ left to call the crime scene unit.

This left the team sitting in silence for a few more moments until Reid spoke up again.

“What about preschools?” He said, suddenly coming out of a wave of thought to announce this to the room.

“What?” Prentiss prompted, wondering what on earth he was talking about.

“Preschools.” Spencer confirmed, looking across the table at her.

“We checked already, none of the victims’ children went to the same preschool.” Morgan reminded him. “Two of the kids didn’t even go to preschool.”

“Yeah, but preschools typically have large waitlists.” Spencer argued.

Naturally, all eyes in the room fell on him, waiting for him to explain.

“In the first 9-1-1 call, the UnSub said that the victim ‘shipped her son off to be cared for by strangers half the time’.” He explained, once again perfectly reciting this from memory. “What if the UnSub resents preschools and the schooling system for taking these children away from their mothers, so he’s choosing his victims off of a preschool waitlist? What if that’s where his obsession stems from because that’s where his rage stems from?”

Reid jumped up, pointing to the map he had been using to make a geographical profile.

“All of the victims live within the same school district.” He added on. “So they would be applying to the same group of preschools.”

“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan announced.

A few minutes later, Morgan connected Garcia’s call to the comm on the center of the conference table they were working from.

“Hey, pumpkin pies.” She greeted them sweetly, as usual. “So it turns out, the preschool that Tommy Laird, and Emily Ashton, the third and the fourth victim had in common, does have a waitlist. But none of the other victims’ names were on it.”

“Come on, babygirl. I know you’re holding out on me.” Morgan said, giving a small smirk.

“Oh, my Adonis, if I don’t have your trembling anticipation, I have nothing.” Garcia giggled. “The school’s waitlist, and their applications, are handled by a firm called Gordon & Stanheight. And it turns out, they handle the applications and waitlisting for five other preschools in the area.”

“Which gives the UnSub a perfect way to pick his victims.” Morgan sighed. “The first interaction that gets him hooked might not even be in person-”

“Unless he’s picking them out of the line-up on paper and then waiting to meet them in person?” Prentiss replied. “With this type of guy, the smallest smile, a nod in his direction - that could be consent in his mind to play father to a household that’s missing one.”

“You said they handle forms for five different schools? That just widened the victim pool.” Rossi groaned.

“And the suspect pool.” Garcia added on. “The firm has thirty male employees. And I did a bit more digging - the preschool applications have ten ‘optional’ questions on the bottom that are definitely not marked as such. Questions directed at the parent filling out the form, rather than vital information about the child. Things such as: ‘what’s your favorite food?’, ‘when is your birthday?’, ‘what’s your favorite color?’, ‘do you plan on having more children?’ - typical survey schlock,”

“That would explain why the UnSub served Lisa Laird a birthday cake.” Reid sighed. “He knew it was her birthday two days before he killed her.”

“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is going.” Emily sighed.

“Oh, sugar. You probably won’t.” Penelope easily agreed. “The ‘optional’ part of the forms is sold off to other companies as survey data. And those forms are seen and handled by over a thousand male employees of Gordon & Stanheight’s larger ‘data processing’ sector.”

“Well the UnSub has to be local to Portland. So narrow down the suspect list based on his last known address and go from there.” Hotch said. “Also, it would be someone who has a criminal record. Someone committing this level of violence wouldn’t be a first time offender.”

“Gotcha.” Penelope said. “Penny G, out.”

…

The team ended up raiding Gordon & Stanheight’s Portland based office.

After some pointless conversation, some threats of lawsuits, and some even larger threats of being detained for impeding an FBI investigation, the team was able to get their hands on the preschool applications. Over two-dozen boxes worth, that they would have to sort through.

So this left JJ, Reid, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss knee deep in paper, looking for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the house until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”

“So we’re hanging all our hopes on the idea that this psychopath needs time to ‘fall in love’ with his next victim before he kills her?” Prentiss groaned.

“Sadly, yes.” Rossi confirmed.

“It helps that most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”

The rest of the conversation easily became quiet in Spencer’s ears when he saw it.

It should have been just another page among the sea of paper in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut. It pushed all the air out of him in seconds, it made him dizzy, made him struggle to breathe. Like a reel flashing through his mind, it brought back a flood of memories he thought he had locked away forever.

It was you.

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?

Spencer rushed to tear this paper away from the others in order to read it more carefully.

Surely enough, the application was filled out in your handwriting. Something that had barely changed over the years. And it was all right there, laid out in front of his eyes, clear as day -

You had a son.

A son named Sebastian, who was three years old. Spencer checked the date on the form, eagerly looking for a birth date for your son. His birthday had just recently passed, actually, so he was four years old now.

And his birth date was… fuck.

He had been born eight and a half months, almost nine months exactly after the two of you had broken up. Your son had been born eight and a half months after the day you had left and Spencer had never seen you again.

One thousand, seven hundred and two days.

Four years, eight months, and two days.

It wasn’t difficult math.

Your son was the perfect age to be Spencer’s child. Was this Spencer’s child?

His hands began to shake at the very thought of it.

Is that why you had disappeared from his life with such haste? Because you knew that you were pregnant and you didn’t want Spencer to be a part of your child’s life?

Had you been keeping this from him intentionally?

He hadn’t thought about you in four long years, he had tried so hard not to. He had spent so long forcing himself not to miss you, and now he was struck with the realization that he might have a child out there with the woman he considered to be his regrettable lost love. A child he didn’t know - a child who he had missed four whole years with.

What the fuck was going on?

Maybe you had cheated on him. Maybe that was why you had left town and never contacted him again. Maybe the kid wasn’t his at all, maybe-

“Reid.” JJ called out gently, getting his attention.

Spencer suddenly realized that he was hyperventilating, staring down at the application with your name on it in his hand, wrinkling the paper as he squeezed it more frantically.

“Did you find something?”

…

All in all, the team found four different women who fit the victim pattern in the files - you being one of them.

So the team split up, ready to knock on each of the womens’ doors, preparing to warn them that if they received any gifts or saw any suspicious men lingering around them in the next few days, they should call. They had to hope that the UnSub wouldn’t move on from this victim pool if he saw the FBI around. But he was overly confident, he had contacted police before.

It could definitely work.

When Hotch found out that Spencer had known you, he said that Spencer should be the one to knock on your door. That you might find it comforting to hear that you and your child could possibly be in danger if it were coming from ‘an old friend’. Spencer stuttered over himself and didn’t have the words to explain that you weren’t just a good friend to him, but a romantic flame. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the team by telling everyone that the break-up had been messy, and sudden, and Spencer still wasn’t even completely sure what had caused it. He didn’t want to rip open his old wounds in front of everyone.

So he simply shut his mouth and got in the car with JJ, and they made their way toward your house.

…

“So…” JJ’s voice broke through the undulating silence of the car ride - filled by nothing but the sound of the car’s motor running and gears grinding inside Spencer’s mind as he tried to figure all of this out. “I do have to ask the obvious question,”

“What is that?” Spencer probed, slightly glad to be relieved of his own thoughts.

He wasn’t so glad when JJ pried those thoughts out of his mind and spilled them to the open air.

“Is the kid yours?” She wondered aloud. “I mean - when did you and Y/N break up?”

JJ had known you as Spencer’s girlfriend.

Come to think of it, she was probably the only person on the current field team who had some kind of a relationship with you back when you and Spencer dated.

Initially, it had been by accident. JJ had driven him home one night after a particularly long and sleepless case, and you had been coming to his apartment to drop off some books he had asked for (shortly after he had given you a key). When JJ saw you, her natural curiosity got the better of her - even more so when you stuck out your hand and introduced yourself as ‘Spencer’s girlfriend’ without hesitation.

The two of you got to talking, and JJ invited you to ‘girls night’. You met Elle and Penelope shortly after. You had become pretty good friends with the three of them before the break-up.

But Spencer had always felt secretive…. well, protective of you. He didn’t want Morgan teasing him about you, or him wanting to have ‘guy talk’ about things that occurred in the bedroom. Not when it might mean talking about intimate moments with you. Spencer had only introduced you to Gideon over coffee about three weeks before the break-up, and that felt like a lifetime ago.

Back then, having you, Elle, and Gideon leave his life all in a matter of a few months felt like hell on earth. It felt like being grabbed by his ankles and shaken for all he was worth. He really wasn’t sure that he was ready to see you again.

It had been four years.

JJ was someone he could lean on right now.

“Four years ago.” He told her, completely honest.

“And how old is the kid?” JJ asked.

“Four - four years old.” Spencer stuttered out, realizing that now as he was speaking about this very real possibility, he might be breathing more life into it.

“Oh my god.” JJ sighed. “Well… could it-? I mean…? Did the two of you?”

It took Spencer a moment to clue into what JJ was talking about. He gave her a sideways glance and she took her eyes off the road for a moment, raising her brows and giving him a pointed look.

“Please tell me you know what does and what doesn’t make a baby,” JJ groaned.

“Oh!” Spencer huffed, a small wave of embarrassment flooding him. “Yes! God, yes. I know.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Spencer felt the need to clarify his answer.

“We - I mean. We…” He trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “We didn’t always use… protection. We were together for three years, at the time, it was on the table.”

“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.”

“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply.

“Hey - then, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?” JJ posed. “If we hadn’t been looking through those forms because of this UnSub, you never would have found Y/N again. You wouldn’t even know this baby exists.”

There was another thing that JJ was dying to ask - something she held back because she felt like it was a touch too personal. (Even if ‘too personal’ was basically how the BAU team lived - knee deep in each other’s business, all the time).

She wanted to know why you had a baby, a baby that Spencer had very likely fathered, and you hadn’t contacted him about it. Spencer seemed entirely clueless about the child’s existence before now, and JJ knew that because of what his own father had been like, he wouldn’t just blow off a kid that was his if he knew that one was out there in the world.

So why hadn’t you told Spencer about the baby?

“What if the kid isn’t yours?” JJ wondered aloud.

Maybe that would unburden him. She knew that either way, Spencer would fight to protect you from the UnSub. But if the kid wasn’t his - he would walk away again, and he wouldn’t have to be hung up on the heartbreak of dealing with his ex just to parent a child together.

“Honestly… I think I’ll be more heartbroken if I find out that he’s not even mine.” Spencer told her, his voice quiet and already lulling with that disappointment.

That was not something JJ had considered. She frowned as she saw the sadness paint across Spencer’s face.

“One thing at a time, alright?”

…

When they pulled into your driveway, Spencer’s mind immediately began churning.

It was a nice house. It was a beautiful, quiet neighborhood. The front yard was clean and trimmed and there was a silver SUV in the driveway with a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but he didn’t see many children’s toys out front on the lawn. He guessed that was a good thing. Letting children play in the front where they could run into the street and potentially get hit by a car was too dangerous. He was glad to already see signs that you were a good mother.

Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more.

He had already missed so much of your son’s life. He had missed you. That was something forming the biggest knot in his gut. He had truly missed you. The times he had allowed himself to think of you over these past few years - he had missed you so dearly.

And now the two of you likely had a child together.

Craning his neck to get a better look, desperately trying to take in more information, Spencer’s eyes were wide and hungry as JJ put the car in park by the curb in front of your house. As Spencer reached for the passenger side door handle, JJ’s phone rang.

“I have to take this.” She sighed. “You go ahead.”

She gave Spencer a distinct look that said ‘I know you need a minute alone with Y/N’, and he nodded, stepping out of the vehicle while she greeted whoever was on the other line. He smoothed down his tie - for once in his whole life, he was actually worried about how he looked. Only because he knew that he was going to see you. Perhaps he had only ever felt like this before going on his first date with you.

He had such a strange lashing of emotions going through him as he approached the door. Fear, anxiety, anticipation. Longing.

He truly had tried so hard to lock away his feelings for you when you had left. He had tried to move on. He had considered, briefly, in passing, dating other women. There had been times when someone else caught his eye, and he considered asking her out on a date. Morgan had offered to ‘set him up’. Penelope had offered too, telling him that he deserved to ‘get back out there’.

Whenever she asked about you, his heart freshly cracked open.

At one point, she had advised him to write a long, Shakespearian letter, pouring out his heart to you in an effort to get you back - one which she would mail. (Because of course, she could get your new address in a heartbeat.) But he didn’t want to experience the heartbreak all over again if you ignored him. He didn’t want to sit, waiting by the mailbox every single day like a lost dog, waiting for you to write him back in return.

You had disappeared from his life for a reason. Just like everyone else had. For a long time, Spencer convinced himself that he was simply meant to end up alone.

Perhaps if he had known about your son - a child that could very well be his - then he might have felt differently about getting Penelope to contact you.

But now he was standing at your front door, his fist shaking as he raised his hand to knock.

He let out a sharp breath and steadied himself, giving three swift, firm knocks against the door and then trying to wait patiently. His heart thumped inside of his throat, and it felt like forever.

“Sorry!” Your voice called out from behind the door, muffled. “Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-”

You cut off your own words as you opened the door - the moment you caught Spencer’s eye and recognized it was him, pure shock fell across your features, and you froze on the spot.

You were just as stunning as ever. You had barely aged at all - your hair was different than the last time he had seen you, of course. And you were dressed casually - wearing a simple hooded sweatshirt with a drawstring and a pair of jeans with some fuzzy slipper boots on. But pale blue looked so good on you.

So much like the pale blue dress you had worn on your first date with him.

You were breath-taking.

“Y/N.” He greeted you, his throat dry already.

You didn’t say anything, simply continuing to stare him down with wide-eyed shock.

Seeing you again, Spencer couldn’t help but to think back to that first date.

The first night that he knew he was in love with you.

…

He had taken you to see the Virginia Symphony Orchestra.

It was Spencer’s idea of a good time - and it ended up being one of the most beautiful, most romantic, most unique first dates that you had ever been on.

It was difficult not to fall for him with the beautiful music in the air and his glossy eyes, so sickeningly thick with affection, staring you down all night.

Afterwards, the two of you stopped to get ice cream at a small shop that was a short walk down from the orchestra. And now you were both enjoying your ice cream as you walked along in the cool night air - enjoying the peace and quiet and the gentle breeze in the darkness.

It was a perfect night.

Spencer could think of no better way to spend it than with you. The yellow bulbs of the street lights practically cast a glow onto your skin, the mulberry lipstick now worn off your lips as you brought the pink spoon to your mouth and licked up your sweet treat.

His stomach was churning with nerves. Joyous nerves.

And as per usual, when he was nervous - he rambled.

“You know, Bach actually married his cousin.” He said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind.

You told him that Bach was one of your favorite composers - it’s why he had thought to bring you to the orchestra on a date in the first place.

“I did not know that.” You giggled. “So what? Was it like a ‘third cousin twice removed’ type situation?”

Spencer found himself grinning at the fact that you actually engaged him in the conversation, rather than staring at him with an odd look for bringing up such a strange topic.

“Not quite.” He replied. “They had the same surname before marriage.”

“Oh, ew.” You chuckled again, giving a shudder at the thought of this.

Spencer knew it was an odd topic to discuss on a date, and if he rambled on too much, it might freak you out - but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him, and he continued.

“He married Maria Barbara Bach, and they had seven children together.” He told you. “His sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel became composers and musicians much like their father, which was actually carrying on a legacy started by Bach’s father himself - who was a seventh generation musician. He was the one who taught Bach the organ from a very young age.”

“Why don’t people play the organ anymore?” You wondered aloud. “Except in churches, I guess. The organ rocks.”

Spencer’s brain began rocketing off at the fact that you had asked him a question. A question he could answer.

“The organ has actually long been associated with divinity.” He replied. “The instrument rose in popularity alongside Catholicism throughout the eighteenth century, and in a sense, that was part of what made Bach a sort of ‘rockstar’ of his time. The religious references in his work, and his mastery of the organ - all of it made him incredibly popular at the time because it caused him to be favored by the church and by royal figures associated with the church.”

Spencer gleamed a large smile, heavily enjoying that he could share these facts with you. He thought for certain that any moment, you would change the subject or imply that he should stop talking. But instead, you engaged the conversation more.

“Religious references?” You questioned, wondering what he meant by this.

“Yes!” Spencer grinned, suddenly very excited by the explanation behind this. “Even in his secular music, Bach would often incorporate the acronym ‘INJ’, a Latin abbreviation that means ‘In Nomine Jesu’, or ‘in the name of Jesus’. It was something he put on all of his manuscripts.”

You grinned back. You found it fascinating that being around Spencer for such short periods of time caused you to learn so many things. It easily made you want to be around him more.

“Interesting.” You replied.

“And his talent on the organ was seen as something that made him ‘divine’ at the time. Divine enough to be worthy of performing for royalty.” Spencer added on. “In 1708, Bach got a position as the court organist in Weimer for Duke Wilhelm. And later when he requested early release from this position, desiring to go work for Prince Leopold of Koethen, the Duke actually had him arrested and put in jail for several weeks in 1716.”

Spencer laughed at this mental image - the composer being put in jail.

“Ooh, harsh.” You sighed. “But I guess Dukes have too much power.”

Spencer let out another bright laugh at this.

“And see, the interesting thing is, Bach later became the conductor of the court orchestra, in which Prince Leopold played.”

“So he got his wish,” You replied with a smile.

“And see-”

Spencer set off on another rant again, and you couldn’t help yourself. You put your spoon into the cup of ice cream and then you used your now free hand to reach out and grab Spencer by his tie - you pulled him toward you before he could get anymore words out, and he let out a shocked, choked-off sound when you pressed your mouth into his.

He sighed gently against your lips, and unconsciously dropped his own melting chocolate cone on the ground by his feet as his limp hands drifted toward your waist. He was dizzy, and now every single fact he had ever known about any composer had vanished from his head. In that moment, standing under a random street lamp on a random sidewalk somewhere - all he knew was the soft, pillowy feeling of your lips and the cool night breeze against his skin.

It was perfect. You were perfect.

You found his intelligence and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to be so utterly irresistible. You had been on so many dates with men before where they had acted like talking about their interests was a chore. Where they had made it seem like the whole thing was simply a routine, waiting for the end of the night so they could get into your pants. And for them, that’s what it probably was.

But Spencer was nothing like that.

He spoke about everything with such intense passion - and you couldn’t resist the urge to try and suck that very passion off his lips.

When you were forced to pull back slightly, your lungs crying out for oxygen, Spencer let out a gentle moan and began puffing out sweet little pants across your chin as he tried to catch his breath. You kept a hold of his tie, wanting to keep him close, and he stayed there, gently pressing his forehead against yours.

“That was… wow.” He sighed.

“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a loss for words, Doctor Reid.” You replied with a giggle.

“Well, I - you - wow.”

It was all he could muster, causing you both to break down into laughter.

Back then - everything had been perfect.

He had no clue where it all went so wrong.

...

A/N: I really hope everyone enjoyed the first part! I would really love to see 10 Comments - in the form of replies, comments on reblogs, or asks (anonymous or not) and 20 Reblogs before I post the next part.

The series is technically finished in my drafts and just needs to be edited, but editing is usually the most difficult and tiring for me, and I would love to see some support and love for the series before I continue working on it, knowing that more people want to see me put effort into it. So please do leave a comment - even in the tags of a reblog - telling me what you enjoyed about it if you have read this far. It is much appreciated <33

#excuse any spelling mistakes lols #this was frantic word vomit #loving word vomit but word vomit nonetheless #fic rec #fic #sundrop writes #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

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elyvorg · 5 years ago

Note

I would love to hear if there's a particular fic bit that you've been dying to talk about! :D

Well, at first my answer to this was, “nothing off the top of my head?”, since I reblogged that post less because I’d been thinking of anything specific recently and more because it’d been on my dash three times. But I’d definitely felt that way about certain parts at some point in the past, so I went and reread the fic (this is the Shadow Kaito fic I’m talking about, of course, being the most recent lengthy fic of mine and me being still mostly in V3-mode) to refresh my memory. And now the response is, “not one particular part. Several particular parts”.

I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m emphatically not, and I know you’re not going to complain about this either. =P

“But still… they were always gonna find out sooner or later, y’know? Hell, knowing Shuichi, he probably already figured it out a while back, right?”

Kaito’s gaze darted to Shuichi, his eyes flashing with alarm and… something else, something that made Shuichi reach for the brim of a hat that wasn’t there.

In the early conception of this moment, my mental simulation of Shuichi simply kind of flinched when Kaito looked at him here. As I tried to figure out why, I remembered that oh yeah, Shuichi has some issues with eye contact, particularly of an intense nature - and then it occurred to me that the way Kaito was looking at him here was actually directly connected to those issues. It’s not “hatred” - Kaito would never hate Shuichi - but it’s that same kind of hurt, accusatory “how dare you uncover my secrets, they weren’t yours to know” from the part of Kaito that’s terrified he knows everything, and it feels all too uncomfortably like the culprit from that one case. Since that was a very fun notion, I wanted to get it across, but only very subtly because Shuichi would never consciously acknowledge that Kaito had had that effect on him. So I was really pleased when I came up with the reference to his hat and his instinctive reflex to hide his eyes behind it when something like this happens.

“It’s so obvious who I am. Shuichi can see the truth, but all I can do is run away from it like a coward.”

Originally when I wrote this line that leads to Kaito fully denying his Shadow, I wanted to get across the idea that, since everyone can already see that the Shadow is obviously him, Kaito is only making himself look even weaker by not being able to face it (which just pushes him even further into desperate irrational denial instead of cutting his losses and accepting it). At first I couldn’t word that right and the Shadow was basically directly saying as such, until I managed to streamline it here into a line which implies it better.

But here’s the fun thing - I wrote this part before properly getting through the trial 4 section of my Kaito ramble and figuring out exactly what’s going on in Kaito’s head during that trial and what the root of the problem is. So when I did figure that out, it was pretty great to look back at this bit and realise that I’d already written Kaito doing pretty much the same thing without actually having known at the time that something like this essentially happens in canon, too. “Shuichi can see the truth, but all I can do is run away from it like a coward” is a perfect description of what Kaito is doing in trial 4, but I didn’t know that when I first wrote that line!

A bunch of other bits in this fic were deliberately drawing off things I talk about in the Kaito ramble - “Heroes aren’t supposed to be this way!” comes to mind - but I think this was the only bit where the parallel happened backwards by complete chance.

Shuichi doesn’t see the Shadow’s true form until quite late in the game and Maki sees it pretty immediately and more or less gets it straight away, but Kaito? Kaito also notices the Shadow’s true form quite early on - and then his mind just does a big NOPE on acknowledging it or thinking about it, because he’s totally got better things to be doing, like rescuing Shuichi, right. (But what he gets from it is not, like Shuichi and Maki do, that he’s hurting himself by taking on their burdens without worrying about his own problems - he just sees it as meaning he’s too weak to support them.)

There was in fact a far better way Kaito could have “saved” Shuichi - by believing in his ability to save himself and simply encouraging him to do that. Shuichi was too nervous to climb down on his own until he felt like he absolutely needed to, but Kaito could have talked him through it, giving him the confidence to do so and reassuring him that he’d be there to catch him if he messed up. Exactly like Kaito always should be doing for his sidekick! But not here, because this is chapter 4, and because everything Kaito’s just heard has made him desperate to prove it all wrong and show that he’s “strong” enough to very directly save Shuichi and be the hero.

“I always say that,” the Shadow said. “I tell everyone, ‘I’ll do something about this’, but I never have a clue what to actually do.”

“Shut up!” yelled Kaito. He flailed one of his arms at the lights as if trying to swat them away, to no avail. “Get outta my face!”

“I’m hurt. I’m scared.” The stars’ brightness intensified, and Shuichi hated how powerless he was to stop what was coming. “Heroes aren’t supposed to be this way!”

“Sh-Shut up!” Kaito tried to turn his head away from the stars, but they were all around him. He screwed his eyes shut instead. “Y-You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

In earlier drafts, Kaito’s protests and denial at his Shadow before it attacks him both times were pretty nondescript and interchangeable, but in editing I tried to tighten that up a bit. Now the idea is that each time Kaito’s reaction essentially reflects what the Shadow is saying about him and proves it right even as he’s denying it.

Despite all the pain relating to his own issues he goes through in this, the absolute worst and most terrifying moment of it for Kaito was when he thought his Shadow was about to kill Shuichi while he was powerless to stop it.

(The Shadow threatening to do that and Shuichi figuring out that it was a just bluff to hurt Kaito was actually one of the earliest ideas I had for how part of the “fight” might go, before I’d even remotely pinned down the Shadow’s berserk form. As a placeholder, I was picturing some vague giant shadowy creature picking Shuichi up in its hands and threatening to crush him or something.)

While Kaito was immensely relieved that Shuichi wasn’t going to die, he otherwise hated it when Shuichi figured out his Shadow’s intentions. That was Shuichi saving himself by using his intellect and realising that Kaito was the vulnerable one who needed protecting (and also that this Shadow definitely was him), none of which are things Kaito wanted to be true. The stubborn desperation to prove that all wrong was what gave him the strength to stand up again, even though he couldn’t a moment ago when Shuichi’s life was apparently in danger (because all that moment made him feel was utter terror at his helplessness).

It’s also not a coincidence that the moment at which Kaito clams up and stops saying anything for a while is just after Shuichi starts very directly protecting him. At that point, it seems indisputable to him that Shuichi knows who the real hero is and who’s really in need of protecting, such that there’s nothing Kaito can say to try to deny it any more, while he also still can’t bring himself to admit the truth. At first when I wrote this bit I wasn’t completely sure if my simulation of Kaito retreating into himself and being unresponsive for a long time was truly in character for him - it doesn’t seem very Kaito-like on the surface - but then it occurred to me that actually this is basically also what Kaito does in the first half of chapter 5 in response to a not-entirely-dissimilar set of circumstances, so yes, it definitely is in character.

“What you just said is that you don’t trust us,” Maki snapped. “You think we’d turn our backs on you if we knew about this.” Her mace crashed into the Shadow, harder than before. “How stupid can you be?” Fuelled by her frustration, she grew relentless, striking him over and over again. “How could you possibly think – after you accepted me for who I am – that I would ever not do the same for you?”

Part of the reason Maki gets so furious and relentless here is that as she’s saying all this, she’s realising that, oh, wait, her own offhand comments about Kaito being an idiot or a coward prooooobably did not help any with him trusting her not to turn her back on him, and she’s starting to feel rather guilty about that.

Maki first hits Shadow Kaito in the torso, which is the least weak part of him since he’s a statue, but later when Kaito’s accepted him and the berserk form just needs to be destroyed, Maki simply shatters his limbs to end it immediately. She could have done that the whole time - but what she was trying to do in the beginning wasn’t to force the Shadow to drop the pedestal, but rather to persuade him to choose to drop it of his own volition by making carrying it even more difficult. It occurred to me that the amount of time between Maki leaving and returning was probably a little too long for her to have spent just running all the way to her lab and back at full pelt. So then I decided that she paused for a while in her lab as she picked up the mace and pictured herself destroying something that looked like Kaito with it, which made her shudder and reconsider exactly what the Shadow was and whether attacking it would really help. She came to the conclusion that it’s essentially Kaito’s “enemy” and therefore she needed to help him fight it rather than just easily winning the fight herself.

Despite everything, Kaito was smiling. Not a huge, dazzling grin for the sake of others, but a quiet smile that was just for himself.

I wrote this line perfectly innocently, and then it occurred to me that there is in fact one time in canon in which Kaito smiles like this, and it’s when he is in SPACE. Then I had a lot of emotions.

“I’m alright now.”

This is just after Shuichi and Maki have encouraged Kaito to accept his Shadow; this is also exactly what Kaito says in the correct route of his Harmonious Heart when Shuichi convinces him to be okay about showing his weakness. Probably nobody was ever going to notice that, but I wanted to put it there anyway.

The lunar lander had landed, standing quite stably on the three legs that it had always had, as if those two statues on top had never really needed Shadow Kaito’s support at all.

That’s not true, Shuichi thought fervently as the implications of this sank in. How could even a part of Kaito have ever thought that?

There have been many points during my V3 commentary at which I have wanted to say “and that’s why the pedestal has legs.” But I couldn’t, because readers of the commentary may not have read this fic and would be very confused.

“I shouldn’t have blamed everything on you, when you’re no different from anybody else.”

At some point after I wrote this line, it brought to mind a line from the game Celeste, during Shadow Madeline’s explosion of rage, where she says, “You think you can blame everything on me!?” I thought that was a neat unintentional similarity. Don’t blame everything on your Shadow. It will just make them sad. They are weaker than you and need to be your sidekick.

(Reminder: if you are here for my Shadow-related content, please play Celeste.)

Kaito’s gaze rose to meet his. “Time for what?” There was a quiet urgency in his voice. “What are you going to do, Shuichi?”

The narration here was me doing my best to subtly get across the sense that Kaito’s really just desperately thinking, “Please tell me you can save me, Shuichi.” Shuichi really is his hero.

Kaito’s grip tightened just a little on Shuichi’s shoulder as he looked between them both imploringly. It might have been because Shuichi knew the truth now, or just because Kaito wasn’t trying so hard to hide it anymore, but Shuichi could sense something almost anxious behind Kaito’s usual confident gaze.

“I believe in you guys,” Kaito said. “Isn’t that enough?”

And similarly, this was me trying to get across that Kaito is really, really desperate for this to be enough. Shuichi and Maki are going to be figuring out a plan to escape and save his life with their awesome talents of deductions and fighting, but Kaito’s mind isn’t wired to deduce things like Shuichi can or come up with plans, and he’s not strong enough right now to fight. He so badly wants to be able to help somehow with them forming this plan and not be useless, to prove that he really can still support them after all despite everything, but all he can do is be his usual optimistic self and believe in them, and if that isn’t enough to help then he’s just got nothing else to offer and he can’t bear that thought.

#danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 spoilers #writing #kaito momota #shuichi saihara #maki harukawa #training trio #shadow kaito #v3 aus #kaito's hero issues #shadows #ramble #antialiasis #thanks for giving me an excuse to do this!#i really could talk about this fic forever #still totally open to ramble about any other parts anyone is interested in

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yandere-daze · 2 years ago

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Anon who sent the multi account ask here- I TOTALLY SQUEALED WHEN I SAW YOU ANSWERED MY ASK :'D Looking back I 100% rambled a lot, and I'm so sorry, but I loved your input and thoughts! ;~; I think it's interesting how the characters don't start out as self aware but gradually remember who you are and the times you've shared.

I lowkey have to wonder if it could open the door to the idols becoming (somehow) even more obsessed with the player 🤔. Like- once they find out that you're fond enough of their world to get the game twice or three times over! To them it could seem like you love them the same way they love you, no? So it only makes sense to be even more cutthroat and vicious in order to get close to you! Like a trigger of sorts for even stranger behavior on their end (for lack of a better term). After all, you just adore them sooooo much! Esp your favs. I know of ppl who spend 100+ or more dollars for their idols and cannot stand not having them in all their accounts. That'd for sure create some airs of superiority.

That aside, I also wanna to say thanks!!! I hope in the future you can humor my self aware au ramblings again >< I just love AUs that are collaborative like this.

Ahh I´m glad to hear you liked the way I expanded on your idea! It always makes me happy when people say that they like what I write, naturally ^^ And don´t worry, rambling is fine because it gives me more to work with!!

gn reader

tw yandere, possessiveness, implied murder(?)

And you´re certainly right about that! You downloading the game several times proves that you didn´t just get it on a whim but that you´ve actually grown to care about them so much that you couldn´t bare to part from them!

And it gets even worse if you still put all the dias you have into your favs on all of your account because in their wishful thinking they´ll absolutely take that as a sign that you must simply adore them if you´re willing to go through so much for them <3

You´re even spending money? Oh, they really wish you didn´t need to but the gacha system and the other characters are trying to prevent them from getting home to you early so at least they´re happy to see that they´re the only one you would spend this amount of money on

Oh, maybe you made multiple accounts just so you could keep going for their cards? Aww, you´re so cute, they just know that you love them as much as they love you! Why else would you put so much of your time into a game? There must be something here that makes you keep playing and they really hope that it´s them

But of course, with you having more than one account that just means they have to be even more on the defense because all the other idols are just itching to get their chance and make you pull for them on a new account. They may have been beathen the first time around but they´re not going to allow it a second time!

So feeling threatened, your fave is sure to get even more intense, maybe even trying to find a way to remove certain lines of code so that their rivals are simply going to disintegrate into nothingness.

You wouldn´t mind, right? Obviously they are your favorite and you don´t need anyone else but them. They´re enough for you just as you are the only person they ever want to look at ever again!

So just let them love you properly without any distractions <3

#yandere ensemble stars #yandere enstars x reader #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #enstars #ensemble stars #yandere self aware au #yandere self aware ensemble stars au #ensemble stars self aware au #gn reader #yandere #cw yandere #yandere x reader #cw possessiveness

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atomicpoetrymusic-blog · 2 years ago

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Just some Stranger Things (primarily Stancy) thoughts

I just want to start this by saying, I originally had one point, and now I have a whole essay. I'm sorry in advance if this seems rambly.

I think the interesting thing about Steve's dream, is he doesn't impose on Nancy at all initially. He tells her his dream, of having 5 or 6 children, and going on a family holiday. He doesn't mention Nancy in this dream, he's just telling her his idea of his ideal future. She even says that it sounds nice.

Fast forward to when they're in the Upside Down. They're both nervous, and heading towards extreme danger. Only then, does Steve tell Nancy she was in his dream too. He's worried this is his last chance to tell her how he feels. It's only natural to want to get those unresolved things out there, and known to the people you care about before it's too late (Max's letters being a prime example of this). He doesn't expect any answer, he just wants it known.

The point is, Steve is absolutely not demanding anything of Nancy, he's expressing his feelings in an open and honest way, which is part of his own character arc. He's always been a romantic with a craving for love and affection (both romantic and platonic - see Dustin and Robin), but he used to be closed off, and projected a 'cool guy who doesn't care' kind of attitude to protect himself from rejection. He lashed out pre-emptively (see: 'Nancy the Slut Wheeler' and his fight with Jonathan), and pushed Nancy to Jonathan even when she herself was trying to get her feelings across to him ("it's ok, Nance" in season 2). He's grown to accept that he's allowed his own feelings to matter, while also not imposing his wishes on others, and I love that for him.

Nancy, for her part, doesn't HAVE to reciprocate these feelings straight away and give up her career to be a stay-at-home mother, as many jancy shippers/anti stancys seem to think stancy shippers want - its up to her to decide what she wants out of life. She could stay with Jonathan, she could leave Jonathan for Steve, she could leave Jonathan and stay single. She could get a totally new boyfriend in the time jump. While I have my preferences, I also appreciate that my preferences might not be what the writers have in mind, so I'm keeping my own mind open to the options.

What is important, however, is that she can have any of these options. Nancy, Steve and Jonathan aren't even in their twenties yet, they have plenty of time to adjust their life plans and grow and develop into who they want to be (assuming they survive season 5, anyway).

Also, Nancy can absolutely have a successful career, while also having multiple children. Why does anyone think she can't? I know many women, including my own mother, who have had kids, and still maintained a great job they loved.

The jancy shippers are, from what I can tell, projecting their own fears onto stancy, and frankly aren't seeing Nancy as her own person who can make her own decisions, rather as someone who has decisions made for her, and has her mind made up by age 16 (or however old she was in season 1) about not wanting kids. People can change, and people can want different things at different stages in their lives.

Personally, I think Steve and Nancy have always been, the right person at the wrong time. They clearly both cared about each other in season 1, and that care, although changed, has never gone away, and that they are much better suited now, especially as she and Jonathan are drifting apart. I'd love a stancy endgame, but I also accept that not everyone does, and that it still might not happen.

I guess we'll have to wait and see.

#stancy #stranger things #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #st4 #not exactly anti jancy but i prefer stancy so what can you do

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tamaki-kisses · 3 years ago

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notes: nervous virgin! tamaki , accidental boner , established relationship, embarrassment , blow job , fem! reader has tits & pussy

“tamaki?”

your voice comes out casual and unceremonious, a significant contrast to how the flutters dancing and flickering in your chest are making you feel. they’re accompanied by the heavy pounding of your heart. it’s impossible to disregard tamaki’s pulsating hardness pressing up against you, it’s what put the idea into your head, after all.

“hm?”

he’s securely clutching you from behind, like a koala bear hanging from a branch. his unsteady breath faintly tickles the back of your neck and the fine hairs coating it. you shiver involuntarily, agonizing over how you’re going to possibly word this. he’s obviously not going to bring attention to his little ‘issue’ and your own tingling heat between your legs makes it difficult to ignore. if anyone’s going to address it… it’s you.

you’re apprehensive and contemplating against his stiff radiating warmth before finally forcing the proposition out into the shared air between you both.

“you know, if you want…” the fluttering takes steep whoosh into your stomach. tamaki’s slender fingers continue to tap on your midsection with a false sense of composure. “i could give you a blowjob.”

a panicked gasp reaches your ear immediately and you’re not at all surprised when the hotness of his erection is pulled away from you. that inital reaction gets a wince out of you as you sit up on your side just in time to see tamaki scramble across your bed to lean against the wall. he soon covers his lap with a spare blanket and refuses to even glance in your direction. his long ears droop, a cherry redness reaching the tips.

“you don’t have to do that… i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean for that to happen… it’s just sometimes- i don’t know… having you so close to me is a lot- oh no, i sound like a pervert, i swear i’m not a pervert…”

his frantic rambling eventually trails off on its own and you give a chance to somewhat recover before responding. “it’s okay. really, i swear. it’s fine, i don’t think you’re a pervert. and i actually want to, you know, suck you off…”

that last part makes your face flush, your cheeks igniting fiercely, but you manage to keep your relaxed demeanor up for his sake.

“you want to.” tamaki repeats, slowly. his dark eyes dart back and forth like he’s watching an intense tennis match before his stare finally lands back on the bed. you can almost see the gears turning in his head. “i just don’t want to take advantage of you…”

the whisper honestly breaks your heart, a bit of sadness creeping in knowing that he worries about that. shaking your head gently, you crawl over to him and rub your thumb over his edged jawline. he jolts under your touch and continues to shift restlessly. you bring your other hand to his warm cheek. a deep sigh, maybe relief, leaves him, but his pretty eyes still refuse to meet yours.

“tamaki. look at me.” you smile lovingly, realizing that you could truly watch him for a lifetime. it’s like gazing at the night sky when he finally does look at you and gives you a view of his eyes up close. “i want to. i promise.”

a peaceful quiet falls over the two of you before he gently moves your hands away and leaves an affectionate kiss on your temple. your skin jumps at the captivating sensation of his tufts of hair brushing against you. “o-okay.”

you’re surprised as you watch him gradually remove the blanket that was once obscuring his crotch. he looks adorably shy, pink face scrunching up in a sulk when you can’t help but stare down at the large bulge straining against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. your clit pulses with excitement, but you shake yourself out of it and try to figure out how this is going to work.

“come over here,”

you laugh softly and slide down to the floor before patting the edge of the bed. tamaki awkwardly scooches across the comforter until he’s perched on the spot you directed. now that he’s close enough, you lift his shirt teasingly and trace your fingers over his firm stomach muscles with one hand and pinch under his knee with the other. he jostles from the purposeful tickling and says your name in the midst of a protesting chuckle. that’s something you’re confident with, but you take the leap and fiddle with the waistband of his pants.

tamaki gulps audibly and nods at you to continue, slightly lifting himself up. you’re able to pull them off swiftly, but your nerves only increase at the sight of his boxers. they’re the only barrier between you and his hard on and it’s a daunting thought. you leave a playful kiss on the softer part of his stomach, but know there’s really no use in stalling this any longer.

you finish stripping his lower half.

from above you, tamaki lets a low mewling whimper go and your already wobbly breath catches in your throat.

he’s big.

sure, you had expected that much from the clothed peeks you’d already gotten, but actually having his cock a few inches away from your face is a totally different story. you can’t tear your accidental stare away; he’s definitely not lacking in any aspects and there’s a single prominent vein running down the side. the head is brightly roseate and already leaking a generous amount of precum.

he doesn’t take your shameless gawking very well, whining your name again as he hides his pouting face in his palms. “d-don’t look at it like that…”

you giggle at how endearing that display is, a nice contrast to his admittedly intimidating cock. it’s when you lean up to leave a feathery kiss on his cheek that an idea to make him feel a little better pops into your head.

tamaki’s still hiding behind his hand as you easily shrug off your oversized pajama shirt and toss it aside. your breasts hang from your chest freely out in the open, nipples perky and interested. you try not to think too much about it as you crane upwards again to attack his ears this time.

he emits a stuttering gasp when your tongue begins to trace the pointed shell of one. you travel down and suckle at the lobe for a moment before whispering his name.

the results are as expected.

his hand falls away and his mouth goes almost slack, when he sees you, hungry eyes going over every inch of your halfway undressed figure. a single restrained squeak, something that makes your insides squeeze with adoration, leaves him.

“oh my god…” tamaki starts to squirm involuntarily, nearly reaching for his exposed cock before catching himself.

you grin sheepishly and almost ask him if he wants to touch them, but decide you don’t want him passed out on your bedroom floor. it’s a real shame though. you can feel your panties grow more damp at just the thought of him nervously toying with your tits with those pretty hands of his.

with anticipation reaching an almost painful boiling point, you move forward to take him in your hand. it’s clear you might’ve done so with too much vigor, or maybe just enough, when tamaki’s hips twist sharply and a loud treble moan makes itself known.

“ahhh-“ his eyes squeeze shut and a hand slaps over his mouth, muffling the light airy moans that soon follow the first.

you continue, head spinning as you have his hard cock in your grasp, and lean in to lick at the head. it’s an incredibly foreign taste and salty to a horrible degree, but you happily lap your tongue over his entire length. tamaki responds with more barely controlled thrusts and wispy groans.

jt’s aggressively overwhelming when you first slip your lips over his cock. the thick heat of it chokes you as you try to get used to the fullness. your jaw is quick to ache after just a few moments of opening your mouth as wide as possible in an attempt not to add teeth to the equation.

you’re not going to be able to fit all of him, but your hand, the one still at the base brushing up against his inky hair, isn’t out of the picture. tamaki keens so sweetly when you start to jerk him off in addition to slurping and sucking his soaking cock.

you’ve only just established some kind of rhythm when his hip movements become more erratic and gasps become shakier.

“m, close-” tamaki sputters out from between his fingers to your surprise. already? you take it as a sort of compliment and trek on.

the noise that’s created from you practically inhaling the tip of his cock makes your head spin with electrifying excitement. your bare thighs stick together with both sweat and slick and you allow your free hand to sneak over and grope at your clothed pussy.

you feel tamaki tense, another squeak pulled from the depths of his throat. “-move!”

even though the idea of swallowing entices you, his warning doesn’t go ignored and you slip off him with a resounding pop.

at just the right moment.

you look up to see tamaki reach his climax and are instead caught off guard as spurts of thick cum splash onto your flushed cheeks. a gasp leaves you while some of it splatters onto your bare chest. you still manage to catch him riding out the last of his orgasm; eyes pinched shut, pointed ears twitching along with his cock, and hand still acting as barrier against all of his lovely groans and cries.

in the second before tamaki gathers himself and inevitably panics at the sight of you, you’re still wishing you would’ve swallowed…

#kisses4tamaki #tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki smut #tamaki smut #bnha smut

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