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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years

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Guys My Age

Title and concept inspo: Guys My Age by Hey Violet

Soft Dom! Aizawa Shouta x Medium-sized Fem! Reader

Quirkless AU

***18+ Fic***

You must be at least 18 years old to participate in this reading. If you are under the age of 18 please step out of line and find another fic. Thank you and have a good day.

Warnings: Age gap, praise kink, DD/LG dynamic and terms, use of the words daddy and sir, light bondage, overstimulation, smut.

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: I KNOW, I know, I write a lot of Aizawa fics, and they’re all DD/LG stuff. I know, okay? It’s an obsession, I’m in love with this man. Anyway, another soft dom Aizawa, but reader isn’t very well-versed in intimacy. Also, reader is what some would call medium-sized. Not necessarily big, but definitely not small. This is for all my medium-sized girls, including myself. I was very self-indulgent with this one.

Part 2

Enjoy~

You’d always been told you were mature for your age. It wasn’t until recently you realized how true that statement might be. You’re currently 21. And very, very single. You’ve had a total of six different relationships, and all of them fell through for one very simple reason. The boys you dated were just that. Boys. They were extremely immature. Only ever wanting to ‘hang with the boys’ or stay at home. No effort was put into the relationship on their part after the first few weeks. You didn’t understand why these vastly different boys were all so adamant on staying inside.

You’d tried desperately to get them to go out on dates with you. You offered to pay, and drive, and literally anything else. But no, they were too busy playing video games or getting higher than the damn sky. Don’t even start thinking about sex. You hadn’t got any of that shit since your first ‘boyfriend’ at 17, who used you like a sex doll and broke it off once he found someone hotter and sexier and altogether better in his eyes. You were sick of it. So you did the last thing you’d ever want to do. You went on a blind date.

You’d stumbled on a website last week that allowed you to set up a blind date with a stranger. It seemed legit, and had background checks on all participants. It also allowed you to put in any preferences you had, and matched you with someone that had similar preferences and hobbies. The age range you put in? 30-35 years old. Because guys your age just didn’t cut it. You needed someone more mature, someone who could treat you like a woman, not some girl.

Today, almost a week after matching with someone, you were standing outside an italian restaurant. You didn’t know his face, just his name and age, and that he was a teacher. Aizawa Shouta, 31 years old. And he’d sent a single message when you matched.

Meet me at this location on Saturday. When you enter, I’ll be at the back corner table. Semi-formal. 8 pm, please don’t be late.

It was blunt and straightforward. You liked it. You just hoped he wasn’t quite this blunt in person. You’d put on a black knee-length cocktail dress with a halter top and a partially open back that fell to the small of your back. It accentuated your shoulders and the top half of your torso before fanning out at your waist, the silky material falling and swaying around you.

You slipped on simple white heels and silver jewelry, with a white clutch purse. You’d decided to pull your hair into a loose half-up half-down, a silver comb pinning your hair in place, minimal makeup and clear lip gloss. For the first time in a while you felt pretty. You knew you weren’t exactly small, but the way you were dressed gave you confidence.

You looked at your watch. 7:55 pm. You took a deep breath, straightened out your dress, and stepped into the restaurant. The host asked if you had a reservation, and you told him you were meeting someone who already arrived. He let you pass, and you walked back to the table Aizawa told you to meet at. He had his back to you as you approached, but you could see his broad shoulders and muscular frame easily.

He wore a white long-sleeve button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a black vest fitted to his form. His slacks were also fitted, showing off his muscular thighs. His long raven hair was pulled in a half-up half-down similar to yours. You hadn’t even seen his face yet and he looked delicious.

Your heels clacked on the wood flooring, and as you neared the booth he turned to look at you. You stopped next to the table and got a good look at the stranger. He was beautiful. His dark bloodshot eyes looked tired, the bags underneath giving him away and only adding to his appeal, and a scar curved under his right eye. A sharp jawline, with a tamed scruff, and thin lips in a neutral expression. You were about to introduce yourself, but he stood from the booth and held his hand out, palm up. “You must be (y/l/n) (y/n).” You smiled at the gesture, and placed your hand in his. “That’s me. And you are Aizawa Shouta. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He pulled your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles, before leading you to your seat.

As he sat down, you noticed a bottle of wine sitting in the center of the table in a bucket of ice, and two glasses of wine halfway full. One sat in front of you, and the other in front of Aizawa. He began the conversation with a rather specific question. “So, (y/l/n), why are you on a dating website looking for men that are so much older than you?” Normally you’d take offense to a question like that, but the way he said it was pure curiosity. So, you answered. “If I’m being honest, it’s actually pretty simple. Guys my age just don’t know how to treat me.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, a barely noticeable smirk tugging at his lips. “And how do you want to be treated?” You smiled a little at the implications behind the question, and answered. “I don’t want to be stuck in my room while my ‘boyfriend’ plays video games and smokes weed. I don’t want to be ‘one of the boys’, and I don’t want to have to plead and beg to go on a date or spend time with him. I want to be treated like a woman, not a girl. And I want to spend my time with a man, not waste it on a boy.”

At that, Aizawa smirked and sipped at his wine. You both took a quick look at the menu and ordered when the waiter came. As you ate, you talked about random subjects and hit it off quite well. The date went by quickly, and at the end of the night you’d exchanged numbers. “I look forward to another date with you, Ms. (y/l/n).” “The feeling is mutual, Mr. Aizawa.”

When you got back home, you undressed and cleaned your face and got into bed. As you lay there, your mind drifted back to the date, and how undeniably handsome Aizawa is. The way he spoke to you like you were his equal, and looking at you like an ancient treasure. He was everything you wanted, without even considering anything sexual. Little did you know he felt much the same way.

____

When the date ended he texted Hizashi to let him know he was free. Hizashi, of course, called him immediately, and began drilling him about the date. “How’d it go Sho? Was it a rando with a thing for older guys? Did she want a sugar daddy?” Shouta rolled his eyes. “No, Zashi, she wasn’t looking for a sugar daddy. She was...actually really mature for a 21 year old. She knows what she wants. I admire that a little. And I won’t lie, she’s quite beautiful. Not the generic, model, beauty-pageant, barbie doll pretty. It’s a natural glow she has. It’s...quite mesmerizing...”

Hizashi exploded on the other side, laughing at the new infatuation his friend had for a blind date. “I hope she’s your type, Sho. I mean physically. I know how much you like them with a little meat on their bones.” Aizawa groaned at his comment. He knew he was just teasing, but that his blonde friend was 100% right. He knew he had a type, and he’d be lying to himself if he hadn’t looked at your full figure quite frequently.

He’d taken in your dress, how it showed off your shoulders and back. As you climbed into your car and took off your heels, he trailed his eyes up your legs, getting a small glimpse at your thick thighs. When you sat up behind the wheel, he revelled in the small rolls showing through your dress, wanting nothing more than to squeeze them and kiss them and bite them...

He shook away the thoughts that were threatening to take over his mind. “Shut it Hizashi. Her body is none of my concern, and is most definitely none of yours. I enjoyed the date and that’s what matters.” The loud blonde gasped dramatically, “Oh my god she totally is! Damn you go get some Sho!” Aizawa just ended the call.

The next date was planned once again by Aizawa, and it was only a week after the first. It was a simple coffee date at a small cafe. You talked casually about the things you enjoyed doing. You convinced him to let you take care of the next date, which you decided would be a relaxed ramen date. You’d gotten comfortable around each other, and after about six more dates, he invited you over to his place for dinner. Of course, you accepted.

He’d sent you the address and apartment number, and you stood outside his door in dark jeans, black flats, and a beige sweater with a white tank top underneath. You knocked on the door, and when it opened he greeted you with a peck on the cheek. It had become a normal greeting, since you’d gotten so close, though the gesture always made you a little shy. He told you to get comfortable as he finished up dinner, and you sat at the kitchen table and admired him as he worked in the kitchen. He wore fitted blue denim jeans, and a black cotton t-shirt, his hair pulled up in a bun.

No matter how many times you looked at him, he was always just as shockingly handsome as the first time you saw him. His t-shirt left his toned arms exposed, and it was fitted to his torso, showing off his muscular frame. Your eyes traced the outline of his muscles from his shoulder, down his arm, drifting to his hips and up his back. You didn’t notice him glance back and smirk at you. “Like what you see kitty cat?” Heat rushed to your face at the realization that you’d been staring, and the fact that he’d noticed. And that name… “K-kitty?” you barely whispered, before quickly apologizing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

You didn’t think he heard the first part. You were wrong. “It’s alright. And yes, kitty. Don’t like the pet name?” Your face burned at the tone of his voice. “N-no, the name’s fine, you just...caught me off guard.” He chuckled. “I should do it more often. You’re cute when you’re flustered.” You didn’t think your face could get any hotter, but it did. You tilted your head down and away from him and bit your lip, letting your hair fall to hide your face. You’d never gotten this kind of attention before, and you had no idea how to handle it.

You were too busy trying to calm your breathing to hear him approach you. The proximity and demanding tone of his voice made you jump a little. “Look at me, kitten.” You swallowed and took a breath before turning your head to him, and he hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your head so you were forced to sit up taller. He moved even closer, your shoulder brushing against his abdomen, and you nearly had to look straight up to look in his eyes.

Your eyes began to drift away from his, and he jerked your chin up higher, silently commanding you not to look away. You brought your eyes back to his and held his gaze, and after a few moments he smirked. The hand under your chin moved to stroke your cheek with his knuckles. “Good girl.”

He quickly dropped his hand and went back to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. It took you a few seconds to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You panted a little, trying to calm yourself from what just happened, and clasped your shaking hands together. But they weren’t shaking from fear. In fact, you couldn’t quite tell why you were so shaky and out of breath. And the praise from him sent a shiver down your spine.

He managed to distract you while you ate, and you had completely recovered from whatever that was earlier. After dinner you moved into the living room and relaxed on the couch while you talked some more. Soon he’d leaned his head back and closed his eyes, still talking and listening, but clearly relaxed. Once again you found yourself distracted by his body, following the muscles in his neck down to his toned chest and abdomen. And again, he noticed. “I can feel your eyes on me, kitten.” His voice was low, a rumble of smooth baritone. You found yourself turning away to hide your face again, and the command in his voice controlled you with ease.

“Don’t look away from me, kitten.” You turned back to him, and when your eyes met his, you looked away, and he let out a low growl and your eyes snapped back to him. He adjusted and sat up, your eyes still fixed on each other. He pat his leg, “Come here kitty.” You blinked at him, not quite prepared for such a demand. His eyes darkened a little and his voice dropped to a growl, “I won’t ask twice.”

At that you got up and went to sit on one of his legs, but he pulled his knees together and shook his head. So you climbed over and straddled his legs on your knees. He grabbed your hips and pulled you so you were fully sitting on his lap, your core dangerously close to his growing bulge.

Your eyes were still locked on his as he leaned close to you, his hands rubbing circles into your hips. He leaned past your face and whispered into your ear. “Can I touch you kitty?” You took a shaky breath and nodded. He laid a light spank on your ass and you jumped. “Use your words kitty cat.” “Y-yes, you can t-touch me.” He laid a kiss on your neck and whispered ‘good girl’ before moving his hands under your sweater and tank top. He ran his hands up and down your back, and he gripped the fatty flesh of your stomach and hips, kneading it in his palms gently as he worked his way up your body, leaving feather light kisses along your neck and jaw.

The intimacy had you quivering, and the way he nearly worshipped your body had your breaths coming out shaky and heavy. Shouta caught on quickly. “Is it safe for me to assume you haven’t done anything in a while?” he said in your ear. You started to nod, but quickly caught yourself, “Y-yes.” He stilled his movements and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Tell me what you did before this.” You took a breath and explained the situation as simply and quickly as possible.

His arms tensed, clearly upset that you’d been used like that. But he didn’t pry into that right now. “So you haven’t explored anything? Like any preferences you might have?” You shook your head quickly, “N-no...why?” He chuckled. “Well, kitty, you’re quite submissive. If you’d let me, I can help you explore this side of you.” You swallowed and nodded. “Y-yeah, I think I’d like that.” He hummed into your neck, “We can start tonight, but only if you’re comfortable and you want to.” You took a few moments to think about your answer. This man had been nothing but good to you. He treated you with more respect than all the boys you dated had combined. And you trusted him. “I...I’m comfortable starting tonight.”

“Alright kitty. Now, listen to me closely, because this is important, okay?” “Okay, I’m listening.” “Good. Since this is new to you, we need to establish a safeword. Is ‘roses’ alright?” You nod. “Okay. Now if anything ever gets too much for you, if you feel uncomfortable for any reason, if you need to stop for any reason, or if there’s a medical emergency, you need to use it. And that goes for me too. If I don’t like where things are going, I’ll use it. Once we use the safeword, everything will stop right there, no questions asked. Understand?”

“I understand.” “Okay. Can I trust you to use it if you feel the need to?” You nod, “Yes. I’ll use it if I need to.” He kisses your neck, “Good girl.” The praise makes you shudder, and you feel him smile into your neck. “Now, kitty, I want you to address me as either ‘Daddy’, ‘Sir’, or ‘Master’ when we’re like this, do you understand?” “Yes.” He spanks you a little harder. “Yes what?” You jump at the contact “Y-yes Sir.” Another kiss on your neck, “Good girl.” He leans back and taps your arms, “Up.” You lift your arms and he pulls off your sweater and tank top at the same time.

His hands come back down on your shoulders, and he runs his hands down your chest and stomach, taking the time to remove your bra and knead your breasts. He wraps his arms around you and stands up, and you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bedroom. He puts you down on the bed on your back and takes a rope out of the bedside table. You let him take your hands and tie your wrists to the bar at the headboard. It’s not uncomfortably tight, but a few experimental tugs tell you it’s solid and you won’t be getting out of it unless he unties you.

He trails kisses down your body, unbuttoning your jeans and removing them as he goes. Once your jeans are off, he loops his fingers in the band of your panties and pulls them off. After that, he leans back and just rakes his eyes up and down your body, eating up every inch of your skin. “You’re such a pretty kitty.” His words have you shuddering and blushing. You’d never been called pretty before, and you knew why. You were a little bigger than other girls. You weren’t necessarily insecure about it. You didn’t care all that much about how people saw you with just your looks alone. But you knew Shouta was admiring your body after knowing who you are as a person, and it made you a little giddy.

His mouth and hands were all over you, squeezing and groping, sucking bruises onto your skin. His touches were sending waves of heat through your body, and pooling between your legs. You desperately wanted him to touch you there, and you whined and rolled your hips up into the air. “Such a needy kitty. Be patient. I’m not done here yet.” He rolled a nipple in between his index and thumb, pulling the other into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue. You mewled at the sensation, and he switched his mouth over to the other side.

Your legs were rubbing together, begging for friction, and he finally moved down to your dripping core. He took a finger and slipped it over your folds. He groaned as his finger collected your slick, “You’re so wet kitty. Are you this wet for me?” You nodded your head frantically, and he laid a light smack on your pussy. You let out a soft whimper, “Yes Sir, it’s for you,” you answered quickly. He hummed, “Good girl. I didn’t even need to remind you to use your words.” He kissed the inside of your thigh, and moved to lick a stripe up your folds. You gasped at the new feeling, never having anyone’s mouth down there before.

He slipped the pink muscle into you easily, groaning when he tasted you. The sound sent vibrations through your dripping cunt, making you squirm at the pleasure. He looped his arms around your legs, dipping his fingers into your core and using the slick to rub tight circles onto your clit. An unfamiliar sensation built in the pit of your stomach, your muscles tightening in your abdomen as it got stronger. You knit your eyebrows together, and in between heavy breaths you gasped out, “S-sir...it feels strange.” He raised his eyebrows at the statement, and increased his pace until that coil inside you snapped, which didn’t take very long.

Your back arched off the bed as you let out a loud, sharp moan, your legs shaking from the intensity of your first orgasm. Aizawa kept lapping at your pussy, letting you ride out your high, and once you were relaxed and panting on the bed, he lifted his head and wiped his chin. “Kitty, have you never cum before?” He asked, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You shake your head, “No S-sir...Is that what just happened?” He chuckled, but didn’t answer the question, “You’re going to have fun tonight kitty.” You didn’t have time to question what he meant, though, because he slipped a thick finger into your core, and you mewled as your walls clenched down on him.

The game he played went on for what felt like hours, and you lost count of how many times he’s made you cum. He’d fucked you and cum multiple times himself. You’d already squirted several times, and tears were streaming down your face from the overstimulation. It felt so good, but it was starting to melt your brain and the title of ‘Sir’ drifted to ‘Daddy’ as it went on. All the muscles in your body were burning from flexing so hard, and your wrists were feeling raw from how hard you’d been tugging at your restraints. It felt so, so good...but it was too much. He leaned down close to your face and kissed at the tears, “You’re doing so well babygirl. You got one more for me?”

You giggled lightly at the praise, your mind fuzzy, unable to form coherent thoughts as he thrust his hips into you. He stilled his movements and caressed your jaw. “How are you feeling, kitten?” Your eyes looked up into his, struggling to stay open. You giggled a little as you answered. “It’s… I f-feel…” You knit your eyebrows together in concentration, searching your brain. “R-roses?”

Everything stopped, and he instantly reached up and tugged off your restraints, and pulled your exhausted body close to his chest. Your breathing got heavier, and your chest got tight, and fresh tears fell down your cheeks. He held you tight, kissing your tears and petting your hair as your cries died down. He held you like that until your breathing was normal again. You slowly opened your eyes, weakly calling out to him, “Daddy?” He kissed your forehead, “I’m right here kitten. Tell me what you need.” You nuzzled your head into his neck and mumbled, “Water. Can I have water?” He wrapped you in a soft blanket and stood up, carrying you with him. “Anything for my kitten.”

He set you on the counter and made a glass of iced water, holding it up to your lips. As you sipped, he rubbed your back and kissed your forehead and neck, and he didn’t stop or move until you had drained the cup. He left it in the sink and picked you up again, taking you to the bathroom and filling the tub with warm water. He turned off the tap, took off your blanket, and carried you into the tub. He washed the both of you, massaging your scalp, and you let out a sound like a pur, which he smiled at.

When he was done, he stood you up and wrapped you in a fluffy towel, dried himself with one, and carried you back to bed. You curled into him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “Are you okay (y/n)?” You nodded into his chest, “Yeah, I’m okay. It was just intense.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, “Thank you for using the safeword. You did so well for me kitten, trusting me like that.” You nuzzled into his chest some more, relishing in the heat his body gave.

You loved the praise he gave you. It made you feel warm and fuzzy in your belly, and it felt so good. Soon you were drifting into a deep sleep, comfortable in Shouta’s arms. This was nice. You’d be happy to let him guide you, let him take care of you like this. One thought drifted through your head as you drifted.

‘Guys my age could never.’

#aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x fem reader #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x fem reader #aizawa shouta smut #shouta aizawa smut #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa shouta mha #shouta aizawa bnha #shouta aizawa mha #dom aizawa

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whosscruffylooking · 4 years

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The Purest Things-First Day Jitters (Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None.

A/N: There will be a Part 2 to this piece based on S3E10 in order to give some groundwork to the dynamics amongst the team once the reader joins them. Enjoy reading! I had so much fun making this piece.

The Purest Things Masterlist

au! october 2007

"Criminal profiling is more of an art than a science. Modeling a criminal profile demands the precise marrying of psychological and rational instincts with the crime scene's particulars. What steps would you take in the process of analyzing a suspect to form a solid profile," the stoic BAU Section Cheif asks.

"First, I would want to accumulate all attainable information about the crime to help explain the "how" and "why" of the offense," you counter.

"What kind of information?"

"I'd want to acquire knowledge on the victim to examine the victimology. For example, I'd determine the victim's career and place of employment, friends, family, social status, criminal records, and daily routines and habits. Then, I can look at the connection between the victim and the unidentified subject. Did they know each other, or are they strangers? Why was the victim targeted, and was it them specifically, or are they just one quarry in a tangled web of attacks?"

You look for some signal in Cheif Strauss's attitude as to whether or not you should continue.

Let’s ramp this up a notch.

Taking the liberty of doing so regardless, you continue.

"Then, I want to know more about the attacker. I want to classify him...or her, as well as the offense. Why did it take place at a specific location? What is the motive? Is the suspect an amateur or a professional? This collection of data helps to assemble a proper crime assessment. I can now paint the picture of what happened before, during, and after the attack. Next, I can start to hypothesize and formulate a complete profile; I can deduce the kind of person we are dealing with. This assessment includes the age range, social status, what type of career he or she may hold, their I.Q., anything that describes the attacker. Now, I can give the profile to investigators and work to capture the assailant. The profile not only helps track him down but also helps refine the interrogation process."

Pausing the video recording, David sets the remote on the table.

"Academically, she's perfect for the job, Aaron. But will she fit in with the team? She seems too well trained, too straight from the textbook."

"That's why I wanted you to see this next part."

They both watch you in expectation.

"If I may Section Chief Strauss...as much as academic training benefits a student in laying the foundations for their selected career field, all of the studying and laboring over perfect grades becomes virtually obsolete once on the job. Instead, implementing the mechanics and learning through experience, trial, and error is far more beneficial. Executing what you've learned in the real world and refining your expertise in the field is the only way to accurately reveal whether or not you are capable of doing your job."

Rossi snickers at your straightforwardness. Aaron crosses his arms, struggling to fight back the urge to smile.

"Care to expound on that?" Strauss proposes.

"You don't trust the current...organization within the BAU. You feel as though Unit Cheif Hotchner and his team pose a threat to the unit. However, I think you put more emphasis on the chain of command. Specifically, you don't trust Agent Hotchner. In the entirety of this vetting process, you have continually undermined the Unit Chief's role in selecting a new agent. He has not been included in any of our telephone calls. Never once have you cc'd him on our emails. Nor has he been invited to sit in on our in-person interviews. I think the only time I've set eyes on him was in the lobby. He seemed to be completely unaware of my presence and purpose here. I'm sure that were I to be hired TodayToday, I could walk right into his office, and he would be blindsided entirely by my arrival and position on the team. Now, if I am to be apart of this renowned group of individuals, I want to know that I will be a part of it. I do not intend to be an outsider in my field or a pawn for higher-ups' ulterior motives. So, with all due respect Cheif Strauss, I would like to withdraw my application. If any of the aspects that I have touched on prove true and impact my role within this unit, I have no interest in undermining an established team that has no place for me."

Rossi claps Aaron on the shoulder, "She'll do just fine."

**********

You step inside the lobby of the FBI Academy. Although the sight is not new to you after your intense vetting process, it now takes on a new meaning. You have a new purpose. Processing your surroundings, you regard the entryway's clean efficiency. Considering the darkness that looms over this bureau, the lobby is welcoming all the same.

So this is what my tax dollars have been paying for.

Noticing that an elevator has arrived, you call out to the person inside one of the many lifts. They hold it open for you. The sound of your clipping heels progresses as you run across the glossy tile floor. High heels may not seem like the most logical choice for your first day of work in the FBI, but when wearing them, you feel elevated. As if the world is your stage and you are the ballerina dazzling the crowd in her pointe shoes. Sure, they are uncomfortable at times, but wearing them can almost be considered a superpower. A quintessential accessory of the iconic femme fatale.

The woman in the elevator gasps as you climb on board, startling slightly.

"Are those Jimmy Choos?" She squeals.

You laugh and shake your head, peering down at the patent leather footwear, "No. I wish, though! They're just some old Steve Madden's I got on the clearance racks." Seeing her shoes, you imitate her enthusiasm, "Those are unique! I've never seen a green...quite that color on shoes before."

Chuckling, she thanks you, "Shoes are one of the many ways I express myself. I'm pretty sure at this point I have a pair of shoes in every color for every mood. Today I was feeling a little envious, so I chose this lime green."

"Envious?" You ask.

"There is a Doctor Who convention going on this weekend, and I have meet and greet tickets for the entire cast, but I've been called in on a case. Meanwhile, three of my friends from counterterrorism are on their way to meet David Tennant as we speak. So yes, I am envious."

"Oh my gosh, I heard about that! Catherin Tate is going to be there too. God, what I would give to meet Donna Nobel in the flesh."

"You watch Doctor Who?" Her eyes widen.

You shrug my shoulders, "I'm a bit of a self-proclaimed Whovian."

Shoving her bags underneath her shoulders to free her hands, she stretches them to you, "Penelope Garcia. We are going to be the best of friends."

Taking her hand in yours, you introduce yourself, "I'm Y/F/N/ Y/L/N. I look forward to having a best friend in the building. Today is my first day."

"Oh sweetie, you are going to do amazing," she looks up at the floor number as the elevator dings, "Well, this is my stop."

Stepping off alongside her, you notice her slight surprise. "Mine too," you announce proudly.

"Wait," she whispers, holding a hand up to your face in a stopping motion, "Today is your first day. Oh! Are you the newbie?"

"Today is my first day as a profiler at the BAU, yes."

Stomping her feet repeatedly, she cheers, "Oh, this day keeps getting better! My darling, you will fit in just fine. Now come with me. There's another fellow Whovian I'd like for you to meet."

Following her through the enormous glass doors and into the department, you can't help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle. "Welcome to the bullpen," she turns around, beaming, "Oh! Spencer, come hither, the new girl is here!"

The young man spins around in his chair and raises his eyebrows, giving you a once-over; he strolls across the office to meet you. You can't tell if he is too tall or too thin. Perhaps, his head is just considerably big for his body, or his lengthy hair gives that illusion. When he nods at you, holding his hand out to greet you, he looks slightly like a little bobble-head doll.

"Dr. Spencer Reid at your service!" He melodically sings.

Nerdy pipe cleaner. I like him.

"It's a pleasure, Dr. Reid. I'm Y/F/N Y/L/N."

"I read you got a full ride through college and graduated from Berkley with a semester completed at the University of Kent for Psychology of Criminal Justice, and you have a degree in Forensic Psychology."

You nod, impressed by his research—time to dazzle him with yours.

"And you, Dr. Reid, attended Caltech. You completed your undergraduate degree at 16, and you hold Bachelor's degrees in Psychology, Sociology, and Philosophy. Very impressive."

"You forgot PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering," he adds.

You nod, "My apologies."

Breaking a tiny smile, he shifts his gaze to the floor as you notice the light tint of pink shading his cheeks. Unable to resist, you feel the heat rise to yours as well.

"Ah! You must be our newest recruit—Benvenuto nell'esperienza della tua vita," a gentle voice echoes from behind you.

Turning around, you see a familiar-looking, dapperly dressed older gentlemen gliding down the stairs to greet you.

"And you are Agent David Rossi. I attended one of your guest lectures at Berkley three years ago," you reach your hand out to meet his.

"Call me Dave, and you can thank me for inspiring your career choice later. Right now, we have a case. It looks like it'll be a first day via baptism by fire for you kiddo," he lifts his thick eyebrows and winks at you. David motions for you to follow his lead, and you eagerly journey behind him.

In the conference room, you are met with the eager faces of four other new colleagues. The first to catch your eye is the herculean adonis, whose attention fixates on you. You watch as his eyes scour you top to bottom, taking your whole body in.

Four words. Sculpted by the gods. Where has he been all my life?

"Where have you been all my life?" The statuesque man purrs, running his thumb across his bottom lip.

Ha. Jinx. You can buy me a drink anytime.

"Hiding from men who lead an introduction with that," you strut over to shake his hand. A knot swirls in your stomach as your finger-tips touch, but you quickly dismiss it as mere infatuation.

Throwing his head back in laughter, he responds, "I like you already. Derek Morgan."

"It's nice to see you again," the bright, blue-eyed young woman you recognized as the media liaison smiles, "I'm Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me J.J." On the day of your first interview with Strauss, she offered you directions to the Section Chief's office.

Next, Agent Prentiss introduces herself. Her thick, raven-colored hair elegantly falls to her shoulders and encompasses her diamond-shaped face. There is a spirited as well as clever expression in her eyes.

Finally, Agent Hotchner stands up. You are taken aback by his astute and severe manner. He's taller than you recall, although you have only observed him from afar. Like most men, he seems to have become an automaton of the modern workplace, measured and valued just for his productivity and obedience. He is tense, most likely swallowing intense trauma and concealing it so he can get up each day and do the same tedious job again and again. Most men display these traits in the way they parent, becoming domineering companions, stacking decay over destruction until their home-life collapses. What remains is a mass of bitterness resentment.

Yet, he exhibits none of this. Beneath this rather tough exterior, you can discern that he is the kind of handsome that infiltrates your bones, that exudes an air of olden times before he's even said a word to you.

Tag List:

@chellybear98 @destiny-tsukino @wanniiieeee @sweetiecake180 @vampiracontessa @weexinling @spaghetti-dad187 @hothskies @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @mac99martin @clairedragonessbaker @cecemariee7302 @halloweenwithreid @megans-txmblr @theoldestguard @purpledragonturtles @chazubagi @frogrrylovebot @agentaaronhotass @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @mcntsee @ssagube @softhetixx @kenzies-mr-j @peachyotps @cat11-2 @prettylittlemoonlight @ravenmoore14 @gubs-boobs @spencerreidsoulmate

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Love and Admiration Part 19- Goodnight Princess

18+ Bakugo x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: (Y/n) has known Bakugo since middle school, admired him since high school, and had a crush on him since the first time they met. Even now, a top pro hero in her own right, she can’t shake her school girl crush. Too bad Bakugo literally has no idea she exists. Well that’s not entirely true… He does know pro hero Mercury exists, but (y/l/n) (y/n)? Never heard of her.

Warnings for brief depiction of sexual harassment (not from Bakugo), unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), degradation, praise kink, dacryphilia (crying kink), overstimulation, and dirty talk

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

As you walk up to the AHA building you spot Aizawa talking to a man with his back to you in a black bomber jacket, a white hood pulled over the back, with a black baseball cap on. Curiosity drives your feet forward a little faster until you get close enough that recognition finally hits and causes you to slow down again. Even with his back to you you’d recognize Bakugo Katsuki anywhere. Part of you wants to turn around and run home, message Aizawa some half hearted excuse about getting tied up in a villain attack and no longer being able to help out. Before you can though Aizawa notices your arrival and waves you over. “Here’s who you’ll be working with,” you hear your former teacher tell Bakugo and just as it sinks in that Bakugo was also clueless as to who he’d been working with, he turns around to see and your heart skips a beat. Yes he looks unfairly attractive the way he always does but what really caught your attention is his outfit. Right there in the center of his white hoodie is a black Mercury symbol, the same symbol stamped somewhere on almost all your merch and the same one you’ve been using as your profile picture on social media since your debut. Bakugo follows your gaze down to the incriminating symbol, his cheeks going bright red. He mutters out an excuse about tossing bags in the car so he can turn away although you’re a little surprised when he extends his hand out to you expectantly. You consider the man in front of you who still won’t meet your gaze. Hurt still burns unpleasantly in your chest but you hand over your duffel bag and with little more than a sheepish glance and nod as acknowledgment, Bakugo moves to the trunk of the car to load it up. “You and Bakugo can handle this right? I saw the news call you a dynamic duo so,” Aizawa asks and you nod immediately. “Yea, we’ve got this. You got nothing to worry about,” you assure the older man. “Good. Get into town, get some rest, one of the local heroes will fill you in on the situation in the morning,” he explains. You nod your understanding and then go to join Bakugo in the car. Once you’re settled in, Bakugo starts up the engine and pulls off into the night.

The silence is awkward. You stare out the window as the cityscape slowly starts to thin out. Once Bakugo pulls the car out onto the highway it doesn’t take long before you’re leaving the city lights behind entirely. When the silence becomes too oppressive you pop open the glove box and root around until you find a USB port. You use your phone charger to plug in your phone, scroll through to one of your chiller playlists, and press play. Music floats through the speakers and you feel yourself relaxing although a quick glance at Bakugo reveals he doesn’t feel the same. He’d discarded his jacket in the backseat once he’d gotten in the car and, as usual, had pushed the long sleeves of the hoodie up to his elbows. As a result it’s easy to see the tense line of his shoulders and the popping veins in his forearms. His grip on the steering wheel is so tight his knuckles are almost white. You’ll be genuinely surprised if there aren’t permanent indentations of his fingers in the steering wheel by the time you two reach your destination. You’re tempted to just let him stew in whatever emotions he’s feeling at seeing you again for the first time since you’d hooked up, but then your eyes fall on where your hero name is written on the sleeve of his hoodie and you decide you’re feeling just generous enough to break the silence.

“You’re wearing the hoodie I got you.”

“Yea.”

“Why?”

Bakugo’s hands somehow tighten even more on the steering wheel before he bites out “Because I like it,” defensively. You roll your eyes and return your gaze to the window. No one can say you didn’t try. You’re about to give up and lament your fate to the groupchat when you hear Bakugo sigh next to you. “That’s not it. I mean I do like it but I didn’t think your dumb ass was gonna be here and it’s not the only reason,” Bakugo confesses. “Insulting me is not a strong start but what’s the other reason?” you ask. The pause is long before Bakugo speaks up again to admit, “I’ve missed you.” The incredulous look you give him almost makes him wince. “You’re the one who stopped messaging me you asshole!” “I know that!” “Then you don’t get to miss me!” “Well I don’t know what the fuck to tell you cause I do!” “Then why’d you ghost me?” “I panicked!”

Both of you go silent after that particular admission. This time it’s Bakugo who speaks up to break it. “Look I don’t date,” he sighs. “Who the fuck said I wanted to date you?” you ask defensively, your cheeks heating up the slightest bit. “Will you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to apologize.” “Apologize better.” “If you shut the fuck up I will.” “I don’t think apologies are supposed to include telling the other person to shut the fuck up.” “I’m trying here (y/l/n),” Bakugo growls and the almost desperate edge to his voice is enough to make you swallow your next retort, instead motioning for him to continue. “I don’t date and I don’t usually fuck people I enjoy having around. I already fucked up with you enough so I didn’t want to do it again. I panicked and that only made shit worse until I didn’t know how to fix it, ok? People care about me and I’m shit to them, that’s just how it goes. I’m sorry you got caught up in it,” he finally admits.

You weren’t expecting that level of honesty from him, nor were you expecting his answer to be so vulnerable. You turn to face him as much as you can within the confines of the seat of the car and take in his body language. Had he always been this insecure about his relationships with the people around him? Maybe if you hadn’t spent years cataloging his every move and expression from afar you would’ve missed it, but looking at him now he looks cracked open. You get the distinct impression that as small as his list of people he likes is, the list of people he’s allowed to see him like this is even smaller. “That’s not true,” you offer but that only makes Bakugo scoff. “It’s not!” you insist. “I don’t need your fucking pity,” he grumbles. “Jesus Christ you really are an idiot. Midoriya, Kirishima, and Denki all have plenty of other friends asshole. If what you said were true they would’ve dumped you a long time ago so cut the pity party bullshit and give me a real fucking apology so I can forgive you already,” you insist, and it reminds you a little of how he’d encouraged you during the reunion. The glance he shoots you is calculating, as if trying to assess how much you mean those words. “You’re going to forgive me?” he asks skeptically. “With an actual apology? Yea. I swear to god you’re the only one who still sees you as the same person you were when we first got to UA,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. “I’m sorry for ghosting you,” he grumbles out, cheeks slightly flushed as he does so. “Good. You’re forgiven. Now what songs should I play the rest of the drive?”

The ride gets a lot easier after that. You’ve missed Bakugo and it’s nice slipping back into the groove the two of you seem to have with each other. He talks shit about your song choices but you still catch him humming along or tapping the steering wheel to the beat a few times. He reveals he got around to finishing your favorite movie and so you guys spend a long time talking about that and your recommendations for other movies going forward. It’s comfortable and before you know it Bakugo is driving past the welcome sign for the tiny town the two of you will be working in. There’s only one hotel. It’s small and could probably use some updating but it’ll do just fine for the short duration of your trip. As the two of you grab your bags and start to head inside Bakugo asks “What are the odds the old man sprung for us to get our own rooms?” “Doubtful, you know the association is cheap as fuck. It has to be. You’re stuck with me,” you tease. “Guess that ain’t so bad,” Bakugo shrugs, which causes your heart to pound a little harder in your chest. “I’ll check us in if you wanna grab some shit from the vending machine,” Bakugo offers and you easily agree, the two of you heading in opposite directions to complete your tasks.

As you make your way over to the vending machine you catch the attention of a middle aged man, likely another guest, who follows you over that direction. “Well hello beautiful, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing around here?” he calls as he makes his way over. You roll your eyes but otherwise ignore him as you instead focus on selecting something from the machine in front of you. “C’mon hot stuff, don’t ignore me. I can tell you’re a big city chick, probably been around the block right? What’s one more?” he insists, sliding his body in front of you. “Do you mind? I’m trying to grab something,” you reply as levelly as possible. It’s moments like this where you hate the spotlight of heroism. You would love nothing more than to make the man blocking your way move but that would be unbecoming of a role model for future generations. “Aww don’t be like that doll, lighten up,” the man grins before having the audacity to move away from the vending machine just enough to smack your ass. You are livid, your hand immediately grasping hold of his wrist to stop him from touching you again. You whirl on him to tell him off but before you can he’s being wrenched out of your grip and violently tossed to the floor. Before you can even fully process what’s happened Bakugo stands like a wall between you, all fury and fire and brimstone. You haven’t seen him this angry in a very long time and even if the man who’d been hitting on you doesn’t know who Bakugo is, the glare and overall body language is still enough to have him cowering at Bakugo’s feet. “If you ever fucking touch her again, if you so much as fucking look at her, I will make you wish you were never fucking born,” Bakugo growls out and god maybe you do have a murder boner like Nejire said because you should not find any of this hot but you definitely do. The older man scrambles to his feet with a nod and runs off with barely a glimpse behind him and certainly not one in your direction, allowing you and Bakugo to heave a sigh of relief. “I know you had that handled but dude pissed me off,” Bakugo explains. His voice is still rough and anger-laden and you try to ignore the way it sends shivers down your spine. “Thanks Bakugo,” you reply, grateful both for his defense of you and his acknowledgment that you don’t need defending. “Katsuki,” he corrects you immediately. “What?” “You’re not mad at me anymore right?” “No?” “Then call me Katsuki,” he insists gruffly. You can only nod in response, afraid that if you open your mouth something embarrassing will come out of it like how incredibly fucking hot it was watching him defend you or how saying his first name right now is bringing back a few too many memories of when he’d first demanded you use his first name in the alley.

Bakugo leads you to your room as you try in vain to rein in your rampant thoughts. Even as you finally arrive all you can think about is the feeling of his lips on yours, the feeling of him filling you up, and what it was like to, for a moment, be the sole owner of his attention. He tosses his stuff on his bed and sits down as you move towards your own but your mind insists on picturing him fucking you relentlessly into it. “What’s up with your face dumbass?” Bakugo suddenly asks and the question makes you jump about a foot in the air, warmth filling your cheeks as you realize you’ve been caught mid-fantasy. “Nothing is up with my face!” you defend and you hope it’s the truth because you can feel how much wetness has pooled in your panties already. Bakugo rises up and stalks towards you and you can’t help but feel like prey, stepping backwards away from him until he’s got you crowded up against the wall. The similarity to that day in the alley is not lost on you and it only makes things worse. “What’s running through that head of yours princess?” he asks and the nickname is too much, a breathless curse slipping past your lips unbidden. You don’t have much time to be embarrassed by how obviously flustered you’re getting because one of Katsuki’s hands finds your waistband as if on instinct at the sound of you breathless. “If you don’t stop I won’t be able to hold back,” he admits and you can tell by the flush in his cheeks that he means it. “I thought you don’t sleep with people you like,” you reply with bated breath. “You’re the exception,” he growls out, pressing closer before seeming to think better of it and closing his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose as if trying desperately to control himself, before adding “if you want to be.” “God yes,” you reply and no sooner have the words left your mouth is he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips as if he’s been quietly suffocating and you’re the last bit of oxygen left.

Katsuki tugs you away from the wall and you go easily, allowing him to push you towards your mattress until you’re lying down on it and he can comfortably hover over you, his lips barely leaving yours the entire time. It doesn’t take long to get you both down to your underwear, the entire process a blur. “You’re such a fucking mess for me princess,” Bakugo practically purrs as he runs his fingers along the damp fabric of your panties. Your hips buck up into the attention eagerly as you nod your agreement at the statement. “Yea, it’s only for you,” you tell him breathlessly and it might’ve been embarrassing if not for the way it draws a deep, satisfied growl from Katsuki’s chest his mouth dropping to your neck and then your chest and working further and further down. “Think you deserve a better apology then I gave you in the car,” he says suddenly looking up the length of your body to find your eyes. “What do you mean?” you ask with what little breath you have in your lungs. “I’ve always been better at doing shit than talking. You thought that apology before was good just wait,” he grins up at you cockily and it already has your stomach doing somersaults even before his teeth find the waistband of your panties and start tugging them down your legs. The moan you release at the sight is completely unfettered as your already dripping wet pussy clenches desperately around nothing. Katsuki is nothing if not a tease so even once he’s done with your panties he doesn’t immediately head to the main course. He lavishes attention on your inner thighs, leaving countless hickeys in his wake but no matter how much you whine and squirm he shows no signs of moving his mouth to where you really want it. “Katsuki,” you finally whine desperately. “What is it princess?” he asks and you can feel him smirking against you, the bastard. “I don’t think apologies are supposed to be teasing like this,” you pant. “Oh really now? You got something to say about my apology princess?” Bakugo asks, the smirk sliding away. “I think you’re not much better at this kind of apology than spoken ones.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

“I didn’t realize my princess was such a whore. You want my mouth that bad? You want to cum that bad?” Katsuki asks and there’s an edge to his voice you’re pretty sure means trouble for you but you nod anyway. “Please Katsuki.” “Well if my princess wants to be a greedy fucking slut then so be it,” he agrees in that same lethal tone before diving in to devour you with an intense voracity you’re unprepared for. You moan loudly, hands grasping hard onto the blankets as he licks a hard swipe all the way from your twitching hole to your sensitive clit before pulling the nub into his mouth and sucking hard. He continues to lave attention on your sensitive clit even as he shoves two fingers into your dripping cunt and starts setting a brutal pace. Eventually he brings his free hand to take over for his mouth and stimulate your clit while he moves his tongue to join his fingers, stuffing you absolutely full. The attention is almost overwhelming and it isn’t long until you’re seeing stars, crying out Katsuki’s name. As you come down from your high you realize Katsuki is still pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you. “Katsu- ah!” you cut yourself off with a shout as he resumes massaging your swollen clit. “S-slow down,” you moan but if anything it only makes him move his fingers more aggressively. You grit your teeth, grasping the blankets even more tightly. “What’s wrong? Thought you wanted this,” he taunts as he pushes you into your second orgasm of the night.

Your entire body is tingling now, thoughts filled only with Katsuki, but he still hasn’t stopped and you’ve never been so overstimulated in your life. “Kas’ki ‘s too much,” you moan, eyes watering as he continues to relentlessly massage your almost painfully sensitive clit. “Don’t tell me my greedy little slut is done already. I still haven’t filled you up yet,” he teases you as he finally removes his finger only to line his dick up with your entrance instead. “Come on baby, I think you’ve got one more in you. Don’t you want to be good for me?” he asks and every inch of your body is saying that you should tap out but instead you find yourself nodding. “Use your words baby.” “Wanna be good for you,” you pant and the devilish grin you get in response has your heart practically in your throat. Slowly but surely Bakugo starts pushing into you. It’s so much, too much, stimulation but even as tears start to run down your cheeks you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. He curses under his breath as he finally bottoms out inside you, taking a moment to collect himself so it won’t be over too soon. As he starts moving he lavishes you with praise while all you can do is whine and whimper, alternating between barely intelligible expressions of how fucking good it all feels and broken cries of his name. “God you look so fucking beautiful like this. You know that? Fucking gorgeous,” he groans as his hips move faster and faster. You can tell when he’s close, his rhythm starting to get sloppier. “You ready to give me that third one baby? Can you do that for me?” he asks and you nod frantically, coasting along that razor thin edge between pleasure and pain. He leans down to kiss you then, swallowing each broken sound you make, as he rocks into you harder and harder until you’re both too strung out to do much more than pant and breathe into each other’s mouths. You topple over the ledge first but Katsuki isn’t far behind, your walls fluttering and clenching around him. You sob out his name one final time as praises pour from his lips about how perfect you were for him. “Knew you could do it for me princess. So good for me,” he sighs as he continues to paint your insides white.

When Bakugo is finally spent, he rolls over and practically collapses next to you. You both have to take a minute to recover, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Unsurprisingly, Bakugo recovers first so he carefully pulls back the covers before bringing them back up to drape over the two of you. “You good?” he asks, eyes scanning over your body as if trying to catalogue any damage he might’ve done. “More than good,” you sigh contentedly. “Good. C’mere,” he commands and you’re more than happy to oblige, allowing him to pull you against his chest. He carefully wipes the tears away from your cheeks before wrapping you more fully into his arms. “I take back what I said,” you mumble into his chest, exhaustion creeping in as the steady beat of his heart starts to lull you to sleep. “What are you on about now?” he asks, but the fondness in his tone belies the harshness of his words. “You’re fucking amazing at apologies,” you mumble. “Shut up and go to sleep dumbass,” he replies but you can practically hear the pleased smirk in his voice.

“Goodnight Katsuki.”

“Goodnight Princess.”

A/N: Apologies are difficult for Bakugo. He’s a very actions speak louder than words kinda guy. Also as funny a trope as the whole “forced to share one bed at a hotel/motel cause there are no other rooms” trope is, it’s more meaningful to me if there are two beds and they still choose to share.

Taglist: @pixelwisp @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @heroacadema @kozukatsuki @captaincyberqueen @undead-nyx @ineedtofocusfr @i-heart-fictional-boys

#hopelessla #bakugo smau #bakugo x fem!reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katsuki #hopeless.thirst

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destellolunar · 3 years

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SABRINA'S MONTHLY OBSESSIONS:

MARCH 2021

Fics:

Heal by AzulRoma (@roma-northr)

Tomorrows that follow @little-miss-sunny-daisy

Quiet light by coveredinthecolors

White winds blow by @helpless-in-sleep

Waiting for you by @misssophiachase

Picturesque by @supernutellastuff

Edits:

The wolf posters by @recyclingss

Rebelion by @labime

She will never forget him by @klavscaroline

Big bad wolf by @lyannainsomnia

Magic of pegasus and tangled fusions by @klarolineagainnaturally

Blogs:

@parallel-outlines

@likemypulse

F i c s

HEAL — AzulRoma

Summary: Devotion told through the pain swallowing their hearts; a display of love through the act of cleaning each other's tears. [One shot]

Why am I obsessed?: The way of words this author has it's wonderful, it's truly something else. This is a very underrated story and most people should know about this beauty and this author. Her writing style is really deep and I absolutely adore the way she writes Klaroline, their scenes always get stuck in my mind, it's the perfect mix of intense emotions and sweetness. This is an emotional story, but it's precious.

WHITE WINDS BLOW — perfectpro

Summary: Caroline Forbes waits anxiously in the Riverlands to hear of the return of her betrothed, Elijah Mikaelson, from the uprising against the mad King Silas. Instead, a letter arrives from his younger brother, Lord Niklaus, telling her of Elijah's death and offering to uphold the joining of their houses himself. She will become the Lady of Winterfell, but Lord Niklaus, waiting at the heart tree, is a stranger. [One shot]

Why am I obsessed?: I'm trash for GOT au's, and the univese building in this one is exceptional. The narration it's so genuine, I honestly felt like I was watching a show and it was really magical. The way the KC relationship evolves is full of tender, how they slowly built up a bond despite the tragedy it has behind was such a joy to read.

QUIET LIGHT — coveredinthecolors

Summary: Caroline Forbes sets off to the Bahamas with her boyfriend, Elijah, where she'll finally meet his brother for the first time. But as it turns out... she knows Klaus Mikaelson a little too well.

Multi chapter: 1/10 (in progress)

Why am I obsessed?: This is a love triangle between our favorite originals and it's genuinely amazing! By the time I got to the end of the first chapter I was freaking out, and now, the anticipation is consuming me. Plus, Luiza's writing is the most glorious and poetic thing ever and adds so much climax into the story. It's filled with drama and I want all of it!

TOMORROWS THAT FOLLOW — sunnydaisy

Summary: How was she supposed to know that the cute guy she had seen on her morning run was a prince?

That’s what she gets for deleting her Instagram.

Multi chapter: 3/? (In progress)

Why am I obsessed?: Modern royalty fic with prince Klaus and actress Caroline it's everything to me! It's beautifully written and the story is so intriguing and charming. It's super fluffy and it's the perfect one to put a huge smile on your face. Besides, this was the story that made me obsessed with the modern royalty trope. It's so good and brings light to my life.

WAITING FOR YOU — misssophiachase

Summary: Detectives Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes are forced to work together on an organised crime case. Given their growing attraction and close proximity solving a murder is the least of their problems. [One shot]

Why am I obsessed?: The world building here is so good, it's an amazing story and although it's about detective KC it goes beyond that. The importance the author gives to all the chacarcters, how she lets them grow in so many aspects, the details, the dynamics, everything it's sensational. I love this one so much.

PICTURESQUE — supernutellastuff

Summary: She doesn’t talk to Klaus about feelings. Ever. Or at least when she’s sober. Sure, there are times when their friends pass out and the two of them lie on the rooftop, looking at the stars, and talk. Or times when they go to clubs and instead of trying to pick up people they find themselves in a corner spilling their guts amidst the pulsating lights. But alcohol or some other form of intoxication is definitely involved.

Klaroline (with a little Steroline) AU/AH where it's a miracle the gang still have working livers seeing that they spend more time than they should at the bar.

Multi chapter: 7/7 (completed)

Why am I obsessed?: This is a really engaging story and one of my favorites parts it's the dialogues. The pining was there but also some angst that show how an incredible way with words the author has. The chemistry between Klaus and Caroline is so real and it was delightful to get to read all their progress. It is fantastic!

E d i t s

THE WOLF POSTERS — recyclingss

Both in my heart and soul I believe The wolf by Yokan is canon, so these posters are everything I needed to complete that happiness. It's not only an amazing idea but the edits are fantastic! She captured the essence of the story so well and I can't stop staring at them. They are so stunning!

REBELION — labime

Is this one of the most stunning moodboards I have ever seen? Yes, is it. I adore the black and white aesthetic and the intensity of the pics. It's absolutely and perfectly gorgeous, it's so evocative and the overall atmosphere for the are it's inspired by it's unbelievable.

SHE WILL NEVER FORGET HIM — klavscaroline

This edit is stunning, I really love the inclusion of those pink roses and the overall aesthetic of it, but one of the reasons I'm obsessed with it it's because it's filled with so many deep emotions and feelings. It's beautiful and tragic, and I'm a mess everytime I read the little drabble it has. I adore it.

BIG BAD WOLF — lyannainsomnia

I could stare at this edit and everytime I will find something that I love. I consider dark aesthetics and color scheme a little bit tricky, but this one is perfection. The manip is so well done and the moodboard it's quite unique, I got goosebumps for how amazing it is.

MAGIC OF PEGASUS AND TANGLED FUSIONS by klarolineagainnaturally

We should be all thankful for having Lottie's talent and creativity on this fandom. I mean, KC x Barbie fusion? I never thought I needed that until I knew it was happening! This gif set it's stunning and has all the barbie vibes, and combining my younger self favorite story with my favorite couple it's a dream come true.

The tangled manip it's so realistic, like how? The color scheme just screams fairytale and I'm trash for it. I know everytime I'll watch Tangled I will only think about this beauty.

B l o g s

@parallel-outlines is the queen of klaroline gifs and no one can tell me otherwise. Her blog is art! Her gifs are everything to me, they are so realistic, so aesthetically pleasing, so cohesive and perfectly made. I could spend hours and hours in her blog and I will never get tired, there is so much art to look at and it's unbelievable how talented she is.

@likemypulse I recently found out this blog and I have spent so much time on it. Their edits are full of colors and they are super eye catching. The way they match the pictures and made such beautiful edits it's something that I really love and that I look up to. It's such a gorgeous blog!

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rocorambles · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 9: Brat Taming

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Toxic Relationships, NSFW, Non-Con, Whipping, Degradation, Mafia AU

Author’s Note: This could be considered as being part of the same AU as my Mafia Oikawa fic, but can also be read alone! Link to the Yandere Mafia Oikawa fic here.

It’s amazing how much Oikawa let you get away with. Matsukawa can’t even remember a time where you showed even a hint of fear despite being surrounded by men who could kill you in a matter of seconds, who could torture you until you wished you were dead. You’ve always just been attached to Oikawa at the hip, hanging off his arms at events, sitting in his lap during meetings. And he doesn’t think Oikawa is really capable of love, but whatever you two had was as close to the sickening L word as possible when you’re part of the mafia.

Matsukawa had seen you as merely eye candy in the beginning when Oikawa had one day introduced you to everyone and he had brushed you off as just another plaything for the boss to toy around with until it broke. But then months passed and then years and you were still around, brazen in your attitude, sharp with your words, mocking with your actions. Overall, just a brat. And yet it seemed that no matter what you did or what you said, no matter the chaos you caused internally, no matter the outright disrespect you showed to Oikawa, the brunette just waved it off, laughing the overall tension away. Sure, you were “punished” from time to time, but when your punishments just ended with your pleasured screams and you proudly displaying your new love marks to everyone the next day, it was hard to take them seriously.

He wondered if Oikawa was becoming soft, weak, but he didn’t question the man. He’d stood by his side far too long to turn his back on him now and he thanks whoever’s listening that he decided to stay loyal when he accidentally walks in on the two of you while he’s on his way to deliver a message to Oikawa. And if he thought you were attractive before, the sight of your wanton face full of lust as Oikawa penetrates you over and over again is seared into his brain now. He knows he should immediately turn and leave, come back later, but he’s rooted to the spot and he can feel his cock twitch as he fully takes in your lewd moans and before he realizes it, his hand is palming his bulge and that’s the exact moment you decide to turn your head and he freezes as the two of you make eye contact through the gap of the ajar door.

Reality and common sense finally come crashing down on him as he swiftly escapes and in the privacy of his room he roughly shoves his pants and boxers down, hurriedly rubbing himself off to the mental picture of your naked body lewdly arching as if it were begging for more, putting itself on display for its owner and as thick spurts spill all over his hand, he wonders what it would be like to be the one who owned you.

It’s just a thought he had in a moment of passion, he reasons to himself. There’s no way he’d take you right from under Oikawa’s nose. And so he ignores you. Or at least he tries to. But maybe you’ve been hanging around Oikawa for far too long, maybe that’s how you’ve become so relentless and unknowing of when to stop with your brattiness and teasing. And Matsukawa grits his teeth as you purposefully seek his gaze, languidly and sensually licking and sucking anything your mouth can get a hold of while you stare at him, subtly touching yourself and moaning like a whore whenever he’s nearby. But the breaking point is when he’s seated across from Oikawa and you at dinner one day and he stiffens in shock when he feels something grinding against his groin. He subtly looks under the tablecloth and something begins to burn hot and heavy inside of him when he sees your silky stocking clad feet playing with him, fondling his rapidly hardening cock, and suddenly it’s your turn to stiffen in shock when he menacingly smiles at you. Excitement builds inside of him at the fear in your eyes as you immediately retract your legs and sink deeper into Oikawa’s hold on you.

Interesting. Looks like you could be tamed after all.

Matsukawa plays the long game and he waits and waits until finally one night, after a successful raid that he’s led, a drunk and high Oikawa slaps him hard on the back in congratulations, asking him what he wants as a reward. And he takes a deep breath before determinedly asking for a taste of you.

The room freezes and for a second his life flashes before his eyes, but when Oikawa merely shrugs his shoulders and tells him that you’ll be waiting in his bed tonight (after all, you’re a small price to pay for a life-long friend, someone he considers a brother), he pins you down with a triumphant grin that twists into something more feral at the panic racing through your eyes.

He thinks it’s adorable that even when you’re cornered and trapped, you try to put up a strong front, throwing coy words at him as you seductively posture yourself on his bed and only the slight tremor in your voice gives any indication of the true fear coursing through you.

“Aww did you get tired of just imagining me? How many times did you jack off to the memory of Oikawa fucking me while you stood there watching like a creep? Come on. Let’s get this over with. I bet you’ll cum just from sticking your tip in me.”

Clearly you’ve let the heady power of being Oikawa’s favorite toy get to you, trick you into thinking you’re untouchable. Oh how wrong you are and Matsukawa enjoys the thrill he feels as realization slowly but surely sinks into you when he roughly flips you onto your stomach and removes his belt and all that fills the room are your agonized screams mixed with the slicing of air as leather whips down on you leaving bright red welts in their wake. He doesn’t stop until your lungs and hoarse throat won’t even allow you the luxury of voicing your pain and when you’re finally silent he slides a hand under your chin and forces you to look up at him.

Hmm. Looks like you have a bit more training to go through to tame the fire he still sees flaring within you, but you’re getting there. And he smiles as you remain silent despite the hate radiating in your eyes as he purposefully digs his blunt nails into the painful lash marks on your soft skin.

So maybe he’s gone a bit overboard, but really you only have yourself to blame. Matsukawa has always been thorough and you just have so many rebellious quirks he needs to force back into shape. Luckily for you, he’s a patient man who never leaves a project unfinished and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy how resistant you are. There’s just something about you that makes him want to break you to pieces and rebuild you into the perfect toy and that’s just solidified by the smoldering embers he still sees in you as you weakly sneer and spit at him even with his cum smeared all across your face, even with both your lower holes gaping and used, a mix of blood and semen pooling underneath your limp body.

And spurred on by his desire to fully dominate you, his fingers are racing across his phone as he makes a few calls and switches around some bodies. Matsukawa is known for his more...sadistic tendencies...and mixed with his connections to various underground body cleaning companies, it’s not hard to convince a furious Oikawa that there had been a terrible accident when he lost control of himself around you and the mangled bloodied corpse on the bed looks enough like you to make the lie believable. Sure, he’ll need to make it up to Oikawa with an irritating amount of favors and ass kissing, but it seems like a small price to pay when he gets to go back home to you, his little pet project.

And when things finally blow over and the dynamics of the gang are back to normal as Oikawa finds a new pretty plaything to mess around with, the higher ups crassly joke about your poor fate. It’s Hanamaki who first brings it up one night while Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Matsukawa, and him are doing lines of coke.

“Damn, Mattsun. I know your dick is big, but I didn’t think it was big enough to literally kill someone.”

The light brown haired man snorts at his own joke, too high out of his mind to care about the way Oikawa slightly pouts at his words and Matsukawa watches in amusement as Iwaizumi growls at them to be a little more respectful of the dead.

Obviously, it’s an exaggeration to say his dick could kill you, but he wonders how the three men would react if they could see how his cock could make you brain dead now, how just having his cock stuffed inside you is enough to have you lie there like a warm fuck doll for him to use whenever and however he wants. A small part of him wants to show Oikawa how well behaved you are now, how obedient and submissive you’ve become, how docile you can be when trained, how even the biggest brats like you can be fully tamed. But his more possessive side wins out as he snorts another white dusty line and he stays quiet as a coil of lust begins to pool in his stomach at the image of your kneeling naked form waiting patiently for him at home.

#haikyuu yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere matsukawa #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu smut #tw: noncon #tw: yandere #tw: abuse

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Text

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 1/57, 97.7k words

I was like “hey brain I’d love to do a shitpost social media au” and then it was like r e w r i t e m i r a c u l o u s

I don’t even know if it really even counts as miraculous anymore so much has changed god damn it --

Rena Rouge had never been so excited for anything in her life.

Of course, at first glance people would find that insane. She was going to a meeting, after all.

But it was the people that were also attending that had her practically vibrating she was so excited.

All the heroes of Paris were to be gathered under Master Fu’s orders. They hardly ever worked together, so having all four (five, including her, she reminded herself) together was pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime event. She wished she was still a reporter, this was the kind of thing she would have killed to report on back in the day…

Still, a part of her had to wonder why exactly they were all there. Master Fu had been vague when he’d called. She had some theories, of course, but all this waiting was starting to shift her excitement into nerves. She attempted to smooth out her tail, but ended up just tucking it under herself to hide her anxiety. Maybe she shouldn’t have come so early.

The first person to show up after her was Carapace. He’d poked his head through the door, the hood of his sleeveless hoodie pulled so low over his face that it partially hid his face. Then he broke into a wide smile and pushed the hood up a little to show the green glint of his mask. He made his way inside and took a seat next to her.

“Salu -- Bonjour!” His confident smile melted into an uncomfortable one. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Salut,” she said, not wanting him to feel awkward.

Besides, that was kind of his whole shtick. Carapace was the relatable hero, the one you could vent about your problems to.

(Well, technically you could vent to all of Paris’s heroes, they didn’t mind… but Carapace was the only one that felt close enough to actually try it with.)

Silence lapsed between them as they sat there. She tried to remember whether she had met him as Rena Rouge or not and he seemed unsure whether she wanted to talk, but they were distracted from their thoughts when Chloe walked into the room.

Chloe just kind of… does that. If Carapace was the personable one, Chloe was the one who felt the most unreachable. She was open about her persona, had to be after everyone found out about it, and exactly how relatable can a mayor’s daughter be? She’d leaned into it, though, opting for golden jewelry and wings that glinted in the light.

Neither of the present heroes said anything to Chloe, and Chloe didn’t acknowledge them.

Was it rude? Technically. But what else were they supposed to do? Chloe had made it clear a week ago that she didn’t like them. There’s no good conversation that can come after you get shit-talked on live tv.

The last person to be on time was Chat Noir. The original hero. He gave them a smile worthy of a model as he slipped inside. “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” said Rena and Carapace, and even Chloe gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement.

The leather of his black suit made a high-pitched squeaking sound against the chair when he sat down that made both him and Rena’s hair stand on end (literally).

Master Fu walked in to find Carapace trying to soothe two very frazzled miraculous holders and Chloe ignoring them on her phone.

He sighed and gently rapped his cane on the ground.

Instantly, the room quieted. Chat and Rena snapped out of their shock.

“Bonjour,” chorused everyone.

He smiled tensely. “Bonjour. Where’s Ladybug?”

“Not here yet,” said Chloe. She set her phone down on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing in the papers, either.”

Master Fu nodded a little bit and took a seat at the head of the table. “We can wait for her. There’s no rush.”

Carapace hesitated before raising his hand. “There’s… a bit of a rush. I was procrastinating a college app and it’s due tonight…”

“It shouldn’t be long,” said Master Fu.

This was true. About five minutes later Ladybug burst into the room, panting softly. “Bon… jour...”

“Thanks for finally showing up,” said Chloe.

No one knew for sure, because Ladybug’s eyes were completely white, but they got the feeling that she was rolling her eyes.

“There was an akuma.”

“Really? There was nothing on the news…” said Rena, genuinely confused, but she trailed off when she realized that maybe getting one of your childhood heroes in trouble was a bad idea if you wanted to have a good relationship with said childhood hero.

Thankfully, Ladybug didn’t seem all that annoyed. “That’s because the news anchor and her crew got swallowed by it before they could get any information out. Anyways, it’s dealt with.”

With that, Ladybug took a seat in the last open chair. There was a beat as she smoothed out the red and black folds of her dress and then she crossed her legs and smiled at everyone.

Master Fu sighed and shook his head, slowly placing his cane in his lap.

“Now that everyone is here, would anyone like to guess why?”

The heroes of Paris stiffened a little bit. That sounded a lot like they were in trouble. They didn’t want to be in trouble.

Rena slowly raised her hand. “Is it… because of what Queen Bee said last week?”

The heroes’ expressions soured a bit at the memory. The video of Chloe trash talking all of them to an interviewer had blown up, and now they could hardly do anything without having at least one reporter hounding them for a response.

None of them could give any, though Rena was sure at least some of them were tempted. The public was supposed to think them all friends, or at worst friendly coworkers. It gave them hope, seeing them all working together for team ups, and analyzing their friendship dynamics kept them relatively distracted from the fact that it had been six years since the first hero had first arrived on the scene and they still had virtually nothing on Hawkmoth.

But now that illusion had been shattered (and trust her, she knew a lot about illusions). Akumas had been more active this week.

“That’s precisely it. Thank you, Rena.” Master Fu regarded them all carefully. “What do you think we should do about it?”

Really, they’d had no clue what to do about their image.

Chloe hadn’t been joking, she’d made that plainly obvious, so saying she didn’t mean it or that was just the type of friendship they had wasn’t going to work…

“Act more like friends…?” Said Ladybug when no one spoke up.

Master Fu nodded.

“Oh, so more team ups or something?” Said Chat.

Carapace shrugged. “Don’t know how much of that I can do, since I’m the only one that can consistently get in the water, but…” He shrugged again. “... sure, I can do that.”

The old man drummed his fingers on the table lightly to bring their attention back to him.

“Yes, that, too, but I was thinking something more… convincing.”

Rena decided that she definitely didn’t like the way his eyes gleamed.

“So, until you manage to defeat Hawkmoth, you will all be living together.”

Everyone opened their mouths to argue but he held up a hand to silence them.

“And you’ll be doing it publicly, posting regular content about it to a social media platform of your choosing…” He put his hand down. “Now you can complain.”

The teens all immediately started attempting to talk over each other, their voices steadily increasing in volume as they tried to be the one to get their complaints heard.

Rena was silent. Part of her thought that she should be complaining. She had siblings, after all, she had a life outside of heroism… but she couldn’t help but smile. She would be living with her childhood heroes (for a long time, probably, because the Hawkmoth situation was not getting better)! And, really, her sisters could get annoying at times. She’d love an excuse to get away.

So instead of arguing she leaned back in her chair and watched everyone else.

Chloe was the most passionate about it, her jewelry flashing with every wild swing of her hand. Her voice was the loudest, but with the other voices in the room and the fact that she was literally buzzing in her anger it was hard to make out what she was saying.

Chat seemed distressed and Rena could see his mouth saying “I don’t think I’d be allowed to” repeatedly even if she couldn’t hear him over Chloe’s screeching.

Carapace’s face was set in an uncharacteristic frown as he complained. Sure, of those voicing their complaints, he definitely seemed the most relaxed, but the fact that he was frowning was in itself proof of just how upset he really was.

Ladybug was quiet, though she didn’t look particularly happy about it. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as if she was holding herself back from yelling as well and her fingers worried at the hem of her dress.

After a minute of this, Master Fu raised his hands for silence and instantly got it once again.

“Are you done?”

The general consensus was ‘no’, if the looks on their faces meant anything, but they nodded anyways.

“Good. Chat Noir, I’ve already worked everything out with your dad, we’ll discuss it more after the meeting is over.”

Chat relaxed a bit.

“Carapace, your schooling will not be affected. In fact, you’ll likely have a better college experience since all your food and toiletries will be paid for by me.”

Carapace’s expression shifted to a thoughtful one as he considered this.

“Queen Bee, must I remind you of the fact that you’re on thin ice as it is?”

Everyone’s eyes shot to Chloe, who had paled considerably. Her angry buzzing quickly lowered to a dull hum and she settled back into her seat.

Master Fu seemed sated by this, and he looked at Ladybug and Rena.

“And I’m assuming I don’t need to convince either of you?”

Rena shook her head instantly. Ladybug took her time to consider, but eventually shook her head as well.

“Great. Now, shall we talk logistics?”

~~~

Taglist:

@nathleigh @mialuvscats

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cauliflowercounty · 4 years

Text

Meet Me in the Middle Pt. I (Fred Weasley x fem!Reader)

House: Ilvermorny, your choice

Blood Status: You Choose

Warning: A swear :)

A/N: You’re from the US in this fic!

I/H = Ilvermorny house

-----

“Settle down, students!” Professor McGonagall calls out to the group of 7th years in front of her. She glares over at the twins and Lee who are busy sticking their noses up and imitating her. Once they notice her intense glare, they quiet down, trying to stifle their laughter, still giddy from the start of school energy and being reunited after a long summer apart.

“This year,” McGonagall begins “we’re initiating a new program in partnership with Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the United States.”

A chorus of murmurs floods through the group.

“For those interested, we are starting a pen friends program. Because of the success of last year in fostering international relationships with the Triwizard tournament, we thought it would be beneficial for both the student body here at Hogwarts and Ilvermorny’s to participate in this new program,” McGonagall explains to the group. All of the seventh years start to whisper to each other excitedly. Many of them comment on how this hadn’t been a possibility before or how they wonder what the wizarding world is like across the pond.

“You’ll receive one pen friend and if you sign up, I expect you to represent Hogwarts well, and remember this is a commitment. Don’t send the person one letter and then never again or there will be consequences,” McGonagall warns everyone. Despite her severe words, people grin with excitement. Fred Weasley thinks about it to himself as all his classmates clamor with excitement. He’d like to have a pen friend from the U.S., but he’s busy wondering if he’ll have the money to send them letters. He and George hadn’t actually sold many of their products yet and he only had just enough money to send letters to his parents back home and the occasional Honeydukes sweet or Zonko’s product. “Postage to the US must cost a lot since owls can’t go that far,” Fred thinks to himself. Maybe giving up the occasional Hogsmeade indulgence would be worth it.

“Cedric would have loved this,” one Hufflepuff near Fred murmurs and everyone falls silent, knowing what the Hufflepuff just said is absolutely true. Everyone in this year definitely felt Cedric’s absence in their year, but in this moment, the air felt heavy with guilt. McGonagall nods in agreement and sets out a paper for sign ups, adding postage will be paid for by Hogwarts and Ilvermorny. Hogwarts students will also write the first letter. Fred smiles in relief. He won’t have to spend all his savings.

“Oi, Freddie,” George nudges him. “Are you going to sign up?”

Fred nods and rushes up to the paper that his classmates are crowding around. He takes out one of his quills and scratches his signature onto the parchment with a flourish. Returning to his best friends, Lee looks surprised.

“I didn’t take you for a pen friend sort of guy, mate,” lee comments.

“What can I say, I’m spontaneous,” Fred replies, sure of himself this was the right choice. Leaving the room with George and Lee, Fred heads to his dorm room to start writing his first letter.

When he arrives in his room, he gets out a piece of parchment and sets up a small workspace on his desk. Just as he sits down, he stops and starts fiddling with his quill. After a few seconds of hesitation, Fred decided to suck it up and start writing.

Hello,

I’m Fred Weasley. I apologise if this letter is a little awkward. It’s my first time ever writing to someone I don’t know at all. I’m in 7th year and I’m a Gryffindor, which values courage and bravery, if you don’t know.

I have a twin brother. His name is George. We’re like the school pranksters. We currently are developing a line of sweets that make you sick so you can get out of class and other products that people would want like little objects that go off to cause a diversion, We’re also thinking about fireworks, but our main specialty is sweets. It all shows promise.

Georgie and I have never been academics, we’re more pranksters at heart if I’m honest. We’re quite good at charms and enchantments, though. I’m rubbish at potions, though. I hate to be boring, but what’s your favorite subject? I can’t think of anything other than that to ask you, but maybe in a future letter, we can talk about more interesting topics other than school.

Hope to hear from you,

Fred Weasley

Satisfied with his work, Fred folds his letter up and seals it tightly with a wax seal. The next day, he turns it in to McGonagall, who informs him it will be sent within the week. Walking away from McGonagall, Fred starts wondering who his pen friend is.

As the following Tuesday rolls around, an unfamiliar owl swoops into the 7th year Gryffindor boys dorms. Attached to its leg is a neatly closed, pristine envelope with “Fred Weasley” written in unfamiliar handwriting. It hoots loudly at Fred, who scrambles off his bed, knocking a few prototype sweets onto the floor he was just working on with George.

“Oi! Watch it, Fred!” George protests, but Fed’s already at the window, trying to pry the letter off the owl’s leg. As Fred gets a better look at the letter, he finds the front has been stamped with a MACUSA red stamp reading “INTERNATIONAL” complete with an eagle beside it. Excited, Fred rips open the letter and sits down on his bed, ignoring George who’s trying to get his attention back on the products. Once he’s comfortable, Fred opens up the letter and starts to read.

Hello, Fred Weasley.

I’m y/n. There’s no reason to be sorry that your letter is a bit awkward. Letters like this are out of my comfort zone as well. If it makes you feel any better, your letter felt perfectly natural.

I’m a 6th year in I/H. It’s honestly the best house of all of them. Thunderbird is for adventurers, Pukwudgie is for healers, Wampus is for warriors, and Horned Serpent is for scholars. Fun Fact: Ilvermorny was actually founded by a descendant of Salazar Slytherin and a No-Maj!

You and your brother must be quite the dynamic duo. Starting a business is no easy feat, but it sounds amazingly interesting. I can’t believe you two were the first to think of sweets that make you sick to get out of class, but I’m glad you two got to the idea first. Please keep me posted on how your other products are coming along! They all sound amazing!

I also like charms and enchantments. My Charms teacher is really awesome. I honestly can’t decide what my favorite subject is. All of them have their ups and downs.

What’s it like at Hogwarts? I hear it’s a castle, but what’s the inside like?

- y/n y/l/n

George looks over at his brother and notices how widely he’s grinning. George notices the “international” stamp on the envelope and realizes what it is and now he’s no longer mad at Fred for knocking the prototypes on the floor as Fred scrambles to grab some parchment to write back.

A two and a half months later, you and Fred have exchanged many letters; you’ve exchanges so many you’ve both forgotten what round you’re on. A week ago, Fred sent along some of his products after you told him about the two Wampus bullies in your year, James and Martin, who enjoy tormenting you about your looks, smarts, and everything else under the sun. The package included a box of sparklers and then some sickness-inducing sweets. Alongside the box of charmed sweets, he also sent a box of real chocolates and a note.

The red box with the “W” has the charmed sweets in it! DO NOT EAT UNLESS YOU WANT TO BREAK OUT IN BOILS! The other box has some of my mom’s English toffee for you to try.

Giggling a little from his warning note, you wrote back and thanked him profusely for the gifts and promptly used the sickness sweets on both Wampus lugs, who ran off to the infirmary with large puss-filled growths protruding from their face in embarrassment. When your dorm mates asked who the real chocolates were from, you feel your heartbeat in your chest as a light blush flushes over your cheeks, thinking of Fred.

Getting out of Potions, you take a walk outside to study as an owl swoops down. You take the letter, recognizing Fred’s handwriting.

Y/n,

I’m glad the sweets worked. The two of them absolutely deserved it and now we know the boils can last for over 48 hours. That’s valuable information for Georgie and me.

Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but I was wondering if I could know what you look like? We’ve been mailing each other for such a long time and It’s been on my mind. I usually have a face I can put to a name. I’ve enclosed a picture of me in this letter and If you’re comfortable, I was wondering if you’d send one back? No pressure.

F.W.

P.S. The canary creams are a hit!

You look behind the letter and pull out the enclosed picture. You see a tall pale boy with flaming ginger hair. He’s smirking along with someone who looks exactly like him in the background messing with a familiar orange and purple Weasley box. In the picture, Fred has circled the twin in the foreground and labeled it “Fred” and the one in the background “my less handsome brother, George.” You let out a little chuckle. This is exactly what you expected from Fred.

A week and a half have passed since Fred sent the letter with the picture in it. With each passing day, Fred worries he’s driven you off with being too forward. He’s considering writing a letter to apologize and beg things can go back to the way it was. he misses writing to you and having to enchant the parchment so it looks scrambles so Umbridge doesn’t read his mail to you about the D.A. and then getting back mail you’ve charmed to look like doodles in a notebook. It was like your own code that you’d both have to undo to read.

He missed hearing about ilvermorny and your classes. He longed for the day he could hear about the plan you’d set up with Fred’s help for revenge on James and Martin where you’d charm fireworks to go off and chase them around the Ilvermorny grounds until they admitted they were assholes.

George and Lee assured him that he had nothing to worry about, that you probably got busy with school work and will write back soon. Lee also suggested your letter might have gotten lost in the mail, but that thought only made Fred worry. Maybe you had sent a message long ago and you weren’t getting a response because he hadn’t gotten one yet, and maybe he shouldn’t send a letter now because it might pop up once he sends his own letter and he’ll look like an idiot. he can only hope a letter from you is on its way now.

As Fred begins to descend into another pit of worry the next day, an owl comes to land at his side. Fred grabs the letter with fervor, nearly knocking the poor owl off its feet in excitement. The owl hoots angrily in protest at Fred’s sudden movement and flies away after pouting and ruffling its feathers. He rips the envelope open, almost damaging the letter itself. Taking out his wand, he rushes to a bathroom so no member of the inquisitorial squad or Umbridge herself can see him take the charm off the paper that currently has a drawing of a sloth on it.

Dear Freddie,

I’m sorry for not getting back to you in the last week or so. I had a midterm and I didn’t want to let you down by only sending you a scrap of paper saying I had a test. I hope it went well.

Thanks for sharing that picture with me. You and your brother are very cute together. I didn’t expect your hair to be so bright, but then again, I’m not around many people with red hair. I’ve also sent you a picture of me. It was taken during Care of Magical Creatures. The niffler unit was my favorite. They’re like magical platypuses!

I hope it’s what you expected? I don’t know what to say (haha).

Wow! The Canary Creams are working finally? That’s awesome! Did feathers get everywhere? Who was the poor test subject?

I’m glad everything is working out, Freddie.

- Y/n

Fred smiles down at the paper from within the stall. You’ve always been supportive of the business. You were almost as excited about it as he and George were. He looks down at the picture you’ve sent along with your letter and his heart skips a little bit.

You’re smiling at the camera with a niffler in your arms. As the picture moves, you laugh as the niffler squirms and tries to reach for the shiny watch on your wrist. As he observes the picture more, he sees there’s a warm twinkling in your eye. you look so happy. Returning to his dorm room, Fred opens his trunk and tucks the photograph into the corner of his trunk next to some logo designs and a family picture with a pair of horns and a monocle drawn on Percy. He smiles. That’s where that picture will stay.

Time has passed, yet you and Fred have kept in touch. Fred’s now living above the shop in Diagon Alley with George after their grand escape from Hogwarts, which you supported him through one hundred percent despite never ever meeting.

Throughout the months, you’ve both been mailing and you’ve helped him develop new products, acting as a remote filter and outside perspective for the twins, which you enjoyed the process of.

All the while Fred has supported you through your last year at Ilvermorny since you’re a year younger than he is. Even though he didn’t finish school doesn’t mean he can’t support and help you at all.

Through your letters, you’ve started calling him “your special Freddie,” making Fred’s heart swoop and swoon as he imagines what your voice sounds like saying it to him. Time goes on and he’s falling, but Fred doesn’t resist it. You’ve always been there for him and he knows he’ll be there for you through think and thin. As he realizes he’s in love, he starts to worry that you won’t return his feelings, but even if you don’t he still wants you in his life. You make him happy. It’s as simple as that.

After getting up one morning, Fred heads down to the shop to do inventory downstairs. He notices that it’s darker outside today, even more so today than usual. Both he and Georgie have noticed things have been darkening lately with Voldemort and his followers running around Britain, but today is especially dark.

Fred hears a knock at the door of the shop. The shop was closed today and most of the regulars knew that this wasn’t a time they’d be open. Cautiously, Fred draws his wand and approaches the door, careful to not step into view in case it wasn’t a welcomed guest. Fred peeks around the corner and notices it’s his father. Wand still drawn, he cautiously approaches the door.

“Which twin said ‘honestly woman, you call yourself our mother?’ at the station before my third year?” Fred asks through the glass at the man he thinks is his father, knowing his dad wants to abide by Ministry guidance about identification.

“Fred did,” Mr. Weasley answers but notices how Fred’s face sinks a bit at his response. “You did. Sorry, Fred.”

Fred cautiously lets him in, not putting his wand away,

“Fred, Dumbledore is dead,” Mr. Weasley explains. “Snape was the one who carried it out.”

“That tr-” Fred starts, but Mr. Weasley holds his hand up.

“I know, Fred. I just wanted to come by and tell you before you get it from the Prophet. I also wanted to tell you... We’re not safe anymore. The ministry has most likely been infiltrated or will be infiltrated in the next few days. Keep your guard up. With Dumbledore gone, this fight just got much more difficult,” Arthur explains, sighing deeply and rubbing his face. “I trust you’ll tell George?”

Fred nods as his dad says goodbye and gives him a “see you soon” before apparating away. Fred locks the door and puts down the shutters with his wand. He rushes up the stairs and scribbles on a piece of parchment his last letter to you before the war, explaining what’s happening, that the mail is probably going to be tracked and opened, that things are getting dangerous. He insists that you shouldn’t write back even if it’s tempting and that he’ll write to you once the war is over. Fred considers signing it “Love, Fred” because this might be the last time he ever writes to you, but doesn’t; he just writes:

See you on the other side of the war, y/n. Stay safe.

Yours truly, Fred Weasley

-----

Read Part 2 Here!

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #weasley twins #Harry Potter

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brokemylegflippingthefirewall · 4 years

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*This is absolutely a fic promotion, but plz hear me out on the discourse part too

So, self inserts and original characters, the worst fanfic catgeory (fanfiction.net literally says that in one of its fic groupings, and I'm pretty sure the number of views on any fanfic website says the same).

TLDR- Yes, I agree that this stereotype carries truth, but I do think SIs and OCs have more potential to be explored, and the stigma surrounding these labels is blocking that. And oh god I just want to know so badly if this is the deal with the work I'm currently writing or if I genuinely just can't write well.

The longer version- (this was written quite late into the night/ I'm in Singapore/, and might not be so well organized, I apologize for that.)

To what extent is this stigma "justified"? I mostly use AO3 for reading fics, and when I see the OC/SI tag, the thing is....I came to look for fics about canon characters and might not have the wish to invest my time in taking in a new character. I understand that most people who read fanfiction would feel the same. This, I think, is more or less justified. If you came to look for a certain canon character/relationship, and you don't want to get invested in any OCs, then of course the OC/SI tag isn't for you.

But... I think that's about it. Bcs here's the thing,

1. Using the OC/SI format does NOT automatically make the fic worse in quality. Hell, I'm not even sure if the statistical "fact" that these tags generate the worst fics is true. Judging from what I've read in the tma fandom and my other past fandoms, the stuff with OC/SI isn't inherently worse or better than the rest of the fics. There are ones that are pretty normal in writing quality, and the ones where the prose is rly good, others where plot design stands out etc. Of course, there is a lot of wish fulfillment and the like, but... there's also a lot of that in fics that write about canon characters.

2. I can't really say whether a wish fulfillment "I just want to write cool scenes/fluff" fic is better or worse than a more serious fic that explores some characterization or plot point. I think stories (all stories, books, fanfic, myths, everything) exist to entertain us and make us feel things. I am not sure if writing a feel good story is any less meaningful than writing a story that brings people "deeper" thoughts and makes them feel good in some other way. And this isn't even the issue at hand, because fundamentally, writing an OC/SI or not doesn't determine what the content is about. I agree that a larger proportion of OC/SI fics tend to be more on the lighthearted side, but... so is most of the content consumed in the other tags. Readers don't seem to have a problem with feel good stories/fix it fics etc when there is no OC or SI, so I don't see why that type of fic paired with an OC/SI should be considered any less "meaningful".

3. Guys/gals, what is an OC/SI?

Yes, it is very personal, and it is very wish fulfillment, but... isn't that like a common literature thing...like in general? Look at the works that "real writers" publish, from contemporary to the classics, which writer doesn't write about themselves? Like, just off the top of my head, Les Miserables, Marius? Um, Dante's Inferno? (and that guy did not self insert into some random thing he straightup went for the Christian Canon😂 used his real name too, so Jonny I guess if you feel awkward about your MCs name you can think of Dante//Jk). But seriously, self insert and wish fulfillment is a big part of literature itself, and while there are things to be said about these tropes, if people don't have that much of a problem with them in other literature, I don't see why fanfic OC/SIs shouldn't be treated the same.

4. in relation to the last point. More specifically...

I do think that a lot of fanfiction which write about the original characters are also OC/SIs to different extents. I've read fics that depict pairings where the author and readers project heavily onto one (or more) of the characters. I've read stuff where the author uses a minor character to explore the established world building/character dynamics and it's clear that it's an SI but with the appearance of being a canon character (and yes it gets tons more views than one that's written as SI). How do I know this? Because I am one of those readers who project onto those characters, and I know why I read those fics, I know why I like them. It's because I can self insert, and feel like I am part of the story, part of the world. Isn't that something most people want to do? I mean, Universal Studios? Specific franchise themed museums? COSPLAY??? Of course that's not all there is to engaging with a story, but what's the shame in wanting to be a part of an already established world building, or want to love a wonderfully designed character? (slight tangent, but if u feel like it's bcs ur not as interesting/cool as the story's world or other characters appear to be then I can tell you with certainty that's not true. You are very interesting and cool and absolutely deserve to be part of a fantasy world.) Isn't that a big part of why "real literature" is written and read as well? So... what's the problem with being like, okay, I'm just gonna insert myself into the world now, through this original character? Of course, I'm not asking for people who prefer to write strictly in canon characters to change that. What I mean to say is, writing it in the form of an OC/SI, doesn't make it a lot different from other fics, or hell, from classic literature even.

I think a potential problem might be the feeling that you are taking too much creative liberty with something that is established canon, by having your own character directly interact with it. But, um, can't the same thing be said if you take a canon character, and then proceed to project heavily onto them? Like, a big part of why I don't feel comfortable writing just canon characters is that I know I'm clearly projecting and it feels awkward to rewrite an already established character to explore my own thoughts/desires. I would rather just straightup design a new character. (this is all just personal feelings, I haven't thought enough about this to make any kind of argument here. And of course, the main reason is I can't trust myself to write canon characters that don't ooc in some way so having one as my protag might kill me with my own awkwardness. )

5. the potential.

Now this is looking far ahead because I'm not sure how much our current system for distribution of knowledge & copyright can allow it. But damn. The OC/SI thing has a lot of potential. There is one thing that makes it different from writing in canon characters, and that is the way it opens up a clear space for you to add your own experience into the story. When exploring your own world view through the lense of an already established world, or vice versa, so much can be revealed about both, perhaps even bringing to light aspects of the narrative the author hadn't previously seen. We all know this feeling, it's when we ramble on about one of our stories or worlds to a friend, and they point something out, and we're like ooooh that makes a lot of sense but I hadn't thought about it before. Yea, like those moments. Stories are generally made more interesting by their interaction with many different perspectives/experiences. With OC/SI it straightup allows you to be like, okay, I'm going to engage my own experience with this fictional world/character now. I mean, isnt that also a large part of how fanfics work in general? Readers/writers bouncing symbols and experiences off each other in the form of stories? Reading about the various interpretations of canon stuff? Whats the problem with tagging it as it is? I'm just thinking about the fics that could have been written as OC/SI and explored the story in some fascinating way which weren't written at all or were discontinued bcs the number of views discouraged those authors. (I feel that with my current work as well, though I have already written half of it and the remaining half is too juicy to give up so I'll probably be completing it)

6. conclusion, sorta

I guess what I want for OC/SO fics is just the same treatment as everything else. Saw it in the tags you were searching for? Look at the teaser. Do you find it interesting? No, then very well. Yes, then click in and take a look. Do you like the writing style? Are you getting into the narrative?... etc. You know, like, same standards you would have for any other kind of fic. Not feeling like you want to read about a new character? Cool, no problem at all, click away. But I do not think that the current difference in number of views is just based on whether readers are interested in reading about a new character or not. In fact, that's what I want it to be. Show me that "true" difference, the one without the stigma behind it, because, as the same goes for every kind of stigmatized community, you're not receiving the proportionate amount of positive feedback, but what's worse is you can't even trust the criticism you receive. If no one engages, or someone gives a negative feedback, how am I supposed to know if it's because my writing is bad? or my teaser wasn't interesting? or my character was badly written/designed? Or if it was to a certain extent, bcs of the stigma? I do want criticism, of course I do, it's the first step to every improvement, and I would love it if I could get feedback that I can trust. (and this brings us to the truely "oppressed" community of the fanfic world, the people who write very good but cant write interesting teasers//jk)

7. the entirely skippable straw man rant part, also the expression of my love for The Magnus Archives.

some straw man: if you like writing your own characters so much, why not just write your own story entirely? and publish it?

You think I'm not annoyed about that? Here's the thing, I LIKE THIS WORLD I READ FROM THIS BOOK/SOME OTHER FORM OF MEDIA OR WHATEVER, I like it, it's brilliant, I want to write for it, about it, be in it, think about it, read about it, engage in whatever way I can. I CAN'T just "go write my own." And who do you think is more annoyed about not being able to publish the stuff? (According to you) I have written something that is potentially publishable (thank you btw I know you don't exist and is a strawman I invented just now but I've gotta get my compliments where I can//Jk), and I can't publish it in any potentially big way (and rightfully not) because I have no copyright over the characters. I worked hard to design my character, to make the plot meaningful, and to study the original canon plot and characters so that it would all fit together (I mean, partially bcs I can't force myself to sit down and write sth that is any less complex), and I can't actually publish it where more people will read it. And of course, on top of that, even less people will feel like reading once that "original character" tag is up. Does it look like I would be here if I could "just write my own"?

(slight tangent but come on what even is "your own"? how many classic European lit books were just fanfics of each other which were all just fanfics of the Bible or Greek mythology or sth? Stories and symbols have no boundaries it's the economic system that drew those.)

Damn this got way longer than I thought and it's morning now😂 guess I ran out of space to actually promote my fic, might have to do that in a seperate post then. But to anyone who actually read up to here, I'm so sorry for wasting your time no but srsly thanks for reading all of these jumbled thoughts, and good luck with whatever you are working on at the moment, I know you're probably working on something if you're reading through these tags. And of course good luck to the tma folk we're gonna face the end together🙏. good night (I should rly go to sleep now😂)

#the magnus archives #fanfiction #original character #self insert #discourse #literature #tma

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rwby-nwbe · 4 years

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Just Finished RWBY Volume 4...

...and I actually liked it?

[Spoilers Ahead, Y'all Know The Drill]

I mean, from what I've heard the Volume gets a lot of flack but honestly? I don't think it deserves it.

Yes, this is the first volume without Monty, and yes, the fights lost a bit of their momentum compared to earlier volumes, but aside from that... it's actually pretty good?

Alright, let me give you the play by play character style.

Ruby Rose

There goes my baby... off to destroy evil.

Ruby hasn't changed much, at least to a noticeable degree, compared to the rest of the cast. Actually, no, that isn't true, she just hasn't changed in a way that would force her overall character to noticeably shift. And I think that's fine. She's still a child at times, and is still really optimistic. But the thing is, she has matured. She doesn't immediately jump head first into danger like she used to, and it's clear she's still trying to process what happened at the Fall of Beacon. And yet, she's pressing on, and I'm glad that she and the rest of Team RNJR have each other's backs.

My only concern is what will go down in Mistral...

Weiss Schnee

Welp, Jacques Schnee, congrats! You've joined Cinder and Adam on the hit list I'm writing up!

The a-hole aside, I really like how Weiss played out this volume. According to what I've heard, volume 4 took place about 6-8 months after Beacon, so I'm kinda sad that Weiss was stuck home for all that time. On the bright side, we get a look at her progress on her summons, which looks to be coming along quite nicely. Then we see the concert, and ooh does that make my blood boil. I'll get to Jacques in a bit, but personally, I'd have no qualms watching him burn, figuratively, or literally.

Fly, Weiss, fly from the coup. Give your bastard of a father the metaphorical middle finger he deserves! (P.S. Klein is best dad.)

Blake Belladonna

Oof. I hurteth.

So Blake tends to stay away out of fear that she'll hurt her friends (i.e. some alternate version of survivor's guilt). In order to make amends from her point of view, she heads home to Menagerie. And once again, we're reminded on why humanity sucks sometimes!

Humans: Here, have this desert island for your large spanning species that covers just as much ground as we do.

Faunus: But... but it's so small!

Humans: Is it? Oh well, we can't have everything!

Me: Y'all LITERALLY have several freaKING CONTINENTS-!

*Ahem* That said, Sun came along! And we met Blake's parents! But first, Sun; I'll admit, I had mixed feelings about him being there at first, but that was mostly because Blake was being angsty and despite Sun's best intentions, virtually nothing he did help. Although, towards the end of the Volume, he managed to help Blake realize why her way of thinking was wrong, so props to him for that. Uh, Sun, could you maybe knock like a normal person? Wait, Blake, DON'T SLAP HIM FOR IT!!!

Ah, Kali, you're just as chaotic as Sun, oh dear... Ghira, never change, man. Never change.

Yang Xiao Long

Oof. I hurteth again. (ADAM!! LET ME DESTROY YOU, DANGIT!!!)

So Yang has been... adjusting to life after Beacon and without an arm. Oh, and Adam gave her PTSD! Isn't that just swell?

[When the find your corpse it'll have Wilt running through your spine and your skull severed with bullet shots from Blush I swear-]

Luckily, Yang gets a prosthetic from Atlas. I was afraid she'd reject it, but it's actually kinda nice to see that she takes to it rather well. And after seeing Oobleck (YAY!) and Port again, it's cool that she's just trying to find her footing. Though, Tai, you might wanna consider NOT flying to close to the Sun Dragon, capiche?

And all this culminates in Yang finally getting back out in the end of the Volume, hoping to find some answers. Hopefully she takes Tai's words to heart.

Jaune Arc

IT'S BIG BOI SWORD HOURS!!

But seriously, it was... kinda off-putting to see Jaune act so... morose. Granted, we all know why (PYRRHA!!!), but still. I'm glad his team is looking out for him and that he's slowly starting to recover like everyone else. His conversation with Ruby in Kuroyuri was also really touching. Come to think of it, didn't Blake have a similar conversation with Sun? The PARALLELS!

Also, that upgrade, tho. CUT THAT NUCKELAVEE INTO DUST, MY DUDE!!!

Nora Valkyrie+Lie Ren

You can't talk about one without bringing up the other.

Guys, this was as much a Renora volume as it was a RWBY-Post Beacon volume. The Fall triggers some odd behavior in Ren, but we figure out why pretty quickly once we reach the Kuroyuri episode.

First, young Ren and Nora... adorable!

Second, I was NOT ready for when Nora had to talk Ren out of charging blindly at the Nuckelavee. The slap. The way Ren sees young Nora and then sees current Nora. Nothing could prepare me. Nothing.

They are so SOFT together, it's just... <3

New Characters (and Old ones, too)

Lightning round, baby!

Qrow Branwen. So Qrow serves as the inside man. He knows what's been going on, and he fills the rest of us in. We also know why he tends to keep his distance, because his semblance brings bad luck to allies and enemies alike. The poor birb. Glad he managed to survive Tyrian!

Jacques Schnee. Egotistical manipulative piece of garbage whom I will not feel sorry for once he's put in his place. 'Nuff said.

Whitley Schnee. Mixed feelings. Mixed feelings everywhere. 'Cause on one hand, I've seen plenty of the fandom's takes on his character putting him in a positive light, but on the other he starts getting kind of unbearable after Weiss loses her title as heiress. Then I have to remind myself that Whitley is the "Fawn" reaction to trauma. Weiss is "Fight," Winter is "Flight," their mother is "Freeze," and Whitley is "Fawn." Stuff like that helps me contextualize that when Whitley says things about their dad like "It's foolish to not do what father asks," or "It's barbaric. It's beneath me. Beneath father," Whitley's not just saying that 'cause he's a bit of a brat. That's his coping mechanism to the abuse Jacques put him and the rest of his family through, and it's probably been a long time that he's been telling himself stuff like this so he can keep in his father's good graces and not risk getting a slap to the face like Weiss, while also trying to deal with the fact that Weiss and Winter get a freedom that he never had a chance to get. And you have to remember that Winter and Weiss were abused to, and that trying to blame Whitley's current condition on the two of them doesn't make things any better. They're not obligated to care about Whitley just as much as Whitley isn't obligated to care about them. It would be nice if either one of them could get through to him, but they were all trying to combat Jacques in one way or another. Whitley was just the odd one out. And if you really think about it, the biggest brain play you can take from all this is to blame it solely on Jacques. I swear, when I get to Volume 4 in my NWBE AU, one of my top priorities will be getting Whitley the ever loving hell out of that accursed mansion alongside Weiss, mark my words.

Klein Sieben. Ladies and gentleman, the only valid man under the Schnee roof! And a Seven Dwarves reference no less. Thanks, I love him! Glad he helped Weiss escape his father's clutches.

James Ironwood. Oh boy, boss man is starting to lose his grip on things. Granted, he's trying to do the right thing, but it's clear his paranoia is getting to him. You know crap is getting bad if the most valid person in all of Atlas simultaneously needs to be told to get a grip from Jacques of all people (especially if he's making a point). Hope this doesn't trigger a downward spiral...

Ghira and Kali Belladonna. Ghira is done and Kali just wants to have fun. I love their dynamic and interactions with Blake and Sun! It was a nice wind down from everything else going on, though I don't think that'll last for long.

White Fang. So we got three more WF members: Fennec, Corsac, and Ilia. The Albain brothers are sleezeballs already, since they're working with Adam and all. Ilia's working with them too, but I'll have to withhold my judgement since she appears to have an as yet undisclosed connection to Blake, but I don't want to get my hopes up since she already stabbed Sun, so... Low expectations, but still expectations.

Salem's Group. Yup, Salem's a villain alright. I'll be keeping my eye on her, she just reeks of trouble. Cinder apparently lost her voice... eh, probably for the best. Emerald, Mercury, get the ever-loving FRICK outta there, you're clearly out of your element! Hazel, you're... fascinating. Neutral Evil, perhaps? Watts, you're on my radar, especially with the last episode of the Volume. And Tyrian... well, he's clearly beyond the point of no return, entirely devoted to Salem, and his psycho-sadistic tendencies are enough to freak Cinder of all people out. Needless to say, I hope something or someone takes care of him before the damage becomes irreversible.

And for now, I'll wrap this up with Oscar Pine. I'll admit, it was interesting how they set up Oscar's character as a slow burn this Volume. We learn he lives a quiet life with his aunt in a barn, and at first we're wondering "Who the heck is this kid?" But then Ozpin shows up and suddenly everything is like "Oh... wait, WHAT!?" So yeah, Ozpin just brought another child into thia conflict. At least they're both not happy about it, and hey, they met Qrow! Hopefully that keeps things from getting too crazy down the line. We still need answers, after all.

Well, those are my thoughts. Sorry they took so long. Hopefully Volume 5 won't be so hard to complete. Well... cheers!

-Mathewton, the RWBY Newbie (15 May 2020)

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this-sapphic-paradise · 7 years

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Supergirl Season 1-3x05 analysis

I just want to start this off by saying that this analysis is being made by someone who just started studying screenwriting/storytelling, so in no way is this meant to be without flaws, and I welcome everyone to discuss the points being made, giving your own opinions and points of view.

And BIG thank you to @lena-lipbite-luthor for making the gifs for me!

Okay, so let’s start at the beginning, shall we? Let’s take a look at season 1.

During the first season of Supergirl, Kara had 3 close friends: Alex, Winn, and James. Their purpose on the show was to push Kara toward her ultimate goal, which was becoming a hero on her own. That doesn’t mean they were always in agreement; sometimes conflict and friction between characters are better to propel the protagonist, than nice encouraging words.

Kara also had 2 mentors: Cat Grant and J’onn – maybe three if we consider the fact that Alex also helped train her. Cat was important to both Kara and Supergirl, helping her see more clearly what kind of hero she wanted to be; while J’onn helped train Kara physically, teaching her to be a more responsible hero and a better agent.

We also had Lord, Astra, and Non as the season’s villains. Each of them, in their own way, helped shape Kara into a better hero, forcing her to make tough choices and sever some of the links she had with Krypton.

The season wasn’t perfect, it had its holes, like after Kara is healed from Red Kryptonite poisoning, and Alex says they need to work on their issues, but we never see that happening. But all in all, the season (and the protagonist) had a main goal: Kara had to learn to be a hero on her own.

Then comes season 2...

Can anyone tell me what Kara wanted, what was her desire on season two? …besides being a reporter and dating Mon-El, that is…

Because while wanting to be a reporter is not a bad thing on itself, it’s merely Kara Danvers’s desire, something that she got to do, and something that wasn’t the focus of the show.

And wanting to date Mon-El wouldn’t have been bad on its own if in order to get these characters together, the writers didn’t have to “deconstruct” Kara’s character. A quick and simple example of this is how throughout season 1, we were told again and again how important it is for Kara to maintain an equilibrium between Kara Danvers and Supergirl, and yet on season 2, we had that scene of Kara telling Mon-El that being Supergirl and having him was enough for her. When storytellers start to break the internal logic of their own fictional world, that’s when their story starts to fall apart. Robert McKee writes in his book Story:

Consciously and unconsciously, [the audience] wants to know your “laws,” to learn how and why things happen in your specific world. … For once the audience grasps the laws of your reality, it feels violated if you break them and rejects your work as illogical and unconvincing.

That’s why it’s so important for us, the viewers, to understand why characters make the decisions they make, and why it has to make sense within the context and reality of the show’s universe.

Now you must be curious as to why Kara having a bigger desire or goal is so important, and to explain that, I’m going to borrow the words of John Truby:

In the dramatic code, change is fueled by desire. The “story world” doesn’t boil down to “I think, therefore I am” but rather “I want, therefore I am.” Desire in all its facets is what makes the world go around. It is what propels all conscious, living things and gives them direction. A story tracks what a person wants, what he’ll do to get it, and what costs he’ll have to pay along the way.

Once a character has a desire, the story “walks” on two “legs”: acting and learning. A character pursuing a desire takes actions to get what he wants, and he learns new information about better ways to get it. Whenever he learns new information, he makes a decision and changes his course of action.

So you see, Kara must have a desire because that’s what turns her into an active protagonist; that’s what insures an attention-grabbing story line, making the audience go on a journey of (self-)discovery and learning with the protagonist, cheering her on and hoping she’ll achieve her goal. One of the main complaints I’ve seen floating around tumblr is how Kara has been bleak and uninteresting, and I’m afraid that’s the reason why: without a desire, Kara has no drive, becoming a passive character who mostly reacts instead of acting, and in turn the audience has little interest in investing their time and emotion on her.

The only two characters on season 2 who have any sort of true desire (in my opinion) are Alex and Lena.

Now you might say, “but Alex only wanted to be with Maggie! How is that different from Kara and Mon-El??” And to that I reply, the difference is that Maggie and Alex’s relationship is a result of Alex’s true desire: her need to be true to herself/to be comfortable in her own skin.

Alex’s journey through season 2 isn’t the story of how “she got the girl”, Alex’s story arc is her journey to finding happiness (and that she is deserving of that happiness).

Lena’s desire has been crystal clear since her first scene on the show: she wants to make L-Corp a force for good while simultaneously proving that she’s not like the rest of her family. Every single action she’s taken since that very first episode up to episode 05 of season 3 has been to try and make that desire come true, and that’s why Lena has been the most compelling character of the show lately.

To further argue that idea, Lena is the only character on the show whose actions cause consequences to her and others. Every major decision has equally major repercussions: she testified against Lillian, Lillian framed her for a crime she did not commit; she trusted Rhea, the invasion took place; Lena bought CatCo, now Morgan Edge wants to destroy her; Lena found a way to stop the Daxamite, she was accused of poisoning kids even though it wasn’t actually her fault.

Those events take the audience through a roller coaster of emotions with Lena, we experience those consequences with her, and by going through those struggles, Lena grows and changes as person. Watching that change occur, according to John Truby, is what gives the audience the deepest satisfaction, and it doesn’t matter if the change is positive or negative.

Now, the last point I want to make is about the supporting characters that have all but disappeared on season 2 and continue to be missing on season 3.

J’onn, James, and Winn have had a story line here and there, but their characters have come to a complete stop in terms of development. None of them have any goal they wish to achieve, none are of significant value to the season’s overall plot, they’ve stopped pushing Kara to be her best, and if they were to literally disappear from the show tomorrow, they would leave as the exact same people they started season 2 as (unlike Maggie who, even though had very limited time to develop, leaves the show a stronger person than when she first appeared). J’onn, James, and Winn haven’t grown as characters, and the writers are not giving them any chance to.

Starting on season 2, the writers isolated Kara by making her main focus her relationship with Mon-El. Again, having a relationship isn’t the problem (we have Sanvers to illustrate that), but when it’s the only focus of a character whose show is based on her wish to make a difference in the world, it goes back to the issue of making it look illogical and unconvincing.

Besides, by isolating (or limiting) Kara’s interaction with the rest of the characters, the writers have unmistakably dimmed the light of each of them, making each character look shallow and bleak in comparison to who they were on season one and who they had the potential to be.

To quote John Truby once more:

The single biggest mistake writers make when creating characters is that they think of the hero and all other characters as separate individuals. Their hero is alone, in a vacuum, unconnected to others. The result is not only a weak hero but also cardboard opponents and minor characters who are even weaker.

The most important step in creating your hero, as well as all other characters, is to connect and compare each to the others.

And most importantly:

Each time you compare a character to your hero, you force yourself to distinguish the hero in new ways. You start to see the secondary characters as complete human beings, as complex and as valuable as your hero.

This is Writing 101 apparently, guys. If I know this, professional screenwriters must know this as well, and I just can’t understand why they aren’t practicing it.

For the sake of the show we love, we desperately need to writers to keep that last piece of advice in mind.

Season three has me a little optimistic on that front: they have Kara and Alex having more scenes together again, and they are creating a good dynamic between Kara/Lena/Sam, my only concern with that is their intention behind it; I’m afraid they are only bringing the three of them together to cause a bigger and more “devastating” effect when Sam turns into Reign. Shock value for shock value is poor storytelling.

Speaking of poor storytelling and going back to things that must be basic knowledge for professional storytellers, I doubt I was the only one who felt the scene in Kara’s apartment with Lena, Sam, Alex, and Maggie was a little off, right? At first, I was bothered because they were only talking about men, then I thought it was just a weird a scene, but after the episode was done and I was able to take a step back, I realized why the scene was “needed”.

First of all, I believe they wanted to do a bit of fan-service by putting all of them together. But that’s not why the story “needed” the scene, that’s just how they chose to execute it. The writers needed the scene for exposition; they wanted Sam to learn Kara is healing from a “break up”, they wanted the sisters, Maggie, and the audience to know Ruby’s father is not in the picture; they wanted the other characters to learn Alex and Maggie had agreed to not have kids, and they wanted someone to touch on the theme of the episode – which was religion – and that befell on Lena, prompting her to tell that awkward story about the guy who wouldn’t sleep with her.

And here my frustration grows exponentially, because if I can buy a book on Amazon (Story, by Robert McKee), and learn this:

Why then is the scene in the story? The answer is almost certain to be “exposition.” It’s there to convey information about characters, world, or history to the eavesdropping audience. If exposition is a scene’s sole justification, a disciplined writer will trash it and weave its information into the film elsewhere.

Then the CW writers most certainly already know it as well, and there are only two possible reasons why that scene still made into the script: 1) some big-shot executive forced it to exist, or 2) the writers are that lazy/bad.

With all the “mistreated” characters (J’onn, James, Winn, M’gann, etc.), the forgotten story lines (Jeremiah, CADMUS, etc.), and all around bad writing and characterization, I feel like the show greatly underestimates its audience’s intelligence, and it just goes to show that the Supergirl writers, producers, and show-runners have forgotten one of the most important rules of storytelling:

“Story is about RESPECT, not disdain, for the audience.”

I truly hope the writers will find their LOVE for storytelling once more, because I know Supergirl means a lot to a great number of people, myself included, and there’s nothing we would like more than to sit back and enjoy the show again.

#rafa talks #supergirl meta #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #alex danvers

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little-narnian-notes · 7 years

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Promised Land

Request: if you're still taking Narnia requests, can I get an Edmund x reader where people call her "the best archer in Narnia" and Edmund realizes he has feelings for her and he tells Lucy "I have to tell the best archer in Narnia that I'm in love with her" and it's just cute and fluffy haha I just love Edmund

This oneshot is so disgustingly late. I’m terrible.

Peter Pevensie liked Y/N. She was nearing twenty-one, so she wasn’t the same age as sixteen year old Lucy, but the two girls got along well. Y/N was the only one who would spar with Lucy during training, when Narnia wasn’t waging war with another country. She would make an effort to be friends with Susan, helped Peter with diplomatic papers, and would hunt with Edmund.

It really didn’t hurt that Y/N fit in well to the family dynamic the Pevensies had.

Susan Pevensie had never hated Y/N, but she’d never really liked her. Now that she’d had to replace archery with courtly matters, people stopped calling her the best archer of Narnia - apparently Y/N got that title now.

It was incredibly bad form to feel petty about this, but Susan was irritated. Her feathers were ruffled (as Peter would say). Sometimes being Queen didn’t matter. She wanted it all in a world where she could actually have everything she’d ever wanted.

Beyond that, though . . . Y/N was alright. She was nice. She had dazzling eyes, uniquely so, and she was all sharp angles and high cheekbones. Probably would have looked ugly if she was any other girl, but Y/N just elegant. At least Susan could discuss the latest fashions with her, so. That was something.

Lucy Pevensie really liked Y/N. She was the big sister that Lucy had always wanted. Susan was busy being a Queen. Apparently that entailed manipulating politics, maintaining foreign relations, and when the elder female Pevensie wasn’t doing that, she was going to balls and high tea with other court ladies. Y/N would spend time with Lucy, though, so Lucy liked her quite a lot.

They’d grown close in the years that the Pevensies had had to rule Narnia.

Edmund Pevensie was in love with Y/N Y/L/N, the best archer in Narnia.

“You’ll have to tell her at some point,” Susan grumped to Edmund. He was with Peter and Susan in a room (of sorts) they’d turned into their castle headquarters.

Edmund shook his head. “I don’t have feelings for her, Su.” That was a complete lie. But nobody needed to know that. “Aren’t we getting distracted, anyway? Telmar forces have been prodding at our border. We need to handle this before they decide to plan an invasion.”

Peter looked at him. “Even if you don’t have feelings for Y/N, I think she has feelings for you, Ed. Eventually it has to come up.”

There was a knock at the door - Lucy burst in seconds later. “I’ve got a letter from Calormen,” she announced. She waved the cream-colored, thick letter over her head. It had been opened, from what the other three could see. “King Doire and Queen Eara accepted our invitation for the masked ball next month. They want to bring their children with them. And half their court, practically.”

Susan and Peter simultaneously groaned. “I was rather hoping they wouldn’t be able to accept,” Peter murmured.

He gestured for Lucy to shut the door. Nobody was supposed to hear anything that was said in here, even if all they were discussing was a masquerade.

King Doire and Queen Eara had three children. Dafydd was the oldest at twenty-five, and the Crown Prince. Princess Maisie was nineteen and the kind of girl who talked a lot about politics and horse-riding. Prince Rhett was thirteen and the youngest. He was more reserved and inclined towards building things, from what the Pevensies had gleaned.

“Well, they’ve accepted,” Susan said with a resigned sigh. “We’ll need to alert the kitchens, and have the rest of the servants begin making preparations for our guests. Peter, have Tumnus see if a few druids can’t sculpt something nice in honor of Doire and Eara.”

In two weeks, Cair Paravel underwent a massive change. Armfuls of decorations were made every day: fairy-lights to string and wind down along the stone columns; drapery as light as feathers was made to be wound along the tables and looked like roses; paintings of nature and magical-realism were hung strategically around the castle.

The kitchen had been alerted of the other royal family’s dietary needs and were preparing a two-week menu catered to suit both their needs/wants and those of the Pevensies’. Some of the best musicians were being brought in a week early so that they could put together a long, soft musical background for the banquet and for post-dinner dancing. There were lute players, harp and cello players, a duduk musician - just about every instrument player imaginable was brought in to compose songs and practice old ones to put into the perfect arrangement.

Peter could think of nothing else. Half his attention went to preparing for the royal guests coming, and the other was spent dealing with skirmishes along Narnia’s borders, hearing complaints from peasant regions, and navigating politics (which were now mainly involved trying to form an alliance with Telmar, discussing environmental laws within the court, and being involved with representational duties).

Not to mention training every day, of course.

Lucy peered at Edmund. They were training in the courtyard - Lucy with her new sword-cane, Edmund with his sword. He’d named it Morgenstern (claiming that the name meant ‘Morning Star’, and it was personal choice, anyway).

“So when are you going to tell her?” Lucy asked. She’d named her sword-cane Onyx, and it was starting to become like an extension of her hand. The learning was slow-going. There was an opportunity to side-step and go in for a pulled stab. She took it.

“Tell who what?” Edmund asked guarded. He parried her attack and swung her arm up. “You’re not talking about Y/N again, are you?” The courtyard had people littered throughout it, practicing and talking and laughing. Edmund was careful to keep Lucy in their training circle. Morgenstern had been with him for a few years now, and sometimes it was like the sword was alive in his hand; automatically, habitually, he twisted around his arm so that Lucy’s sword-cane was behind her back. Morgenstern’s blade-tip was pointed at her throat. “I win, again. You’re slow, sister-mine.”

Lucy stuck out her tongue. “I was distracted.” Her hands went up to pull her ginger hair into a fresh bun. “And yes, I was. She’s here, too, you know. Getting in some archery practice.”

Edmund gave her a sharp look. “What do I care? I know she practices here every day. We’re friends.” Of course it mattered. Mainly because Y/N was his honest-to-Aslan best friend now, and he’d spent the entirety of their three year friendship wanting and obsessing over someone he couldn’t have.

Y/N was apparently too hung up on Eatymon Hunter to ever love Ed the way her loved her.

“Maybe you should go talk to her anyway. Looks like she could use help; she’s been looking over here for the past hour.” Lucy wasn’t actually sure if that was true, but she’d just caught Y/N looking over in Ed’s general direction, before realizing Lucy had seen her and turned away, blushing.

“Fine. Maybe I will.” But Edmund didn’t move, too busy drinking water now out of his water-skin.

There was an actual masked ball the night that the Calormen royalty came to Narnia. It was also the night that Crown Prince Dafydd decided to ask Y/N to a dance.

“My lady, they mentioned they had a family friend here, but the mentions in a letter from High Kind Peter did not do you justice,” he told you.

You could feel yourself flaring up. “I’m sure he was accurate, my prince,” you replied, curtesying.

 “No, indeed. You are fairer then starlight.” Dafydd offered his hand to you; you took it graciously. He was broad-shouldered with a square jaw and curling black hair. Not necessarily your type, but close enough.

“You flatter me, Prince Dafydd. Tell me, do you tell every pretty woman you see that very line?”

While he might not be your type, he was a very good substitute for someone like Edmund. At least Dafydd was more forward, and openly flattering.

He chuckled. “No, just once tonight. Are you from Narnia, Lady Y/N?”

While you weren’t technically a Lady, you decided not to correct Dafydd. For once it was kind of refreshing to experience the sort of attention that noble ladies received. You actually commanded part of the Narnian army. As a result, you were revered for your military prowess . . . and not much else. Being a rising commander so young meant you’d never really had the option - or the time - to find a suitor.  

“I consider myself a Narnian, though I am originally from Archenland; hence the slight accent. My father was a merchant who eventually decided to take up residency here. He and my mother travelled a lot, and this was the safest country to have a child in. They’ve stayed here every since.”

Dafydd seemed genuinely interested. “And what about your mother? What does she do?”

“She found work as a seamstress, and then as a clothes-maker. She’s employed constantly by noblemen and noble ladies.” You weren’t particularly embarrassed that your parents weren’t from the court, nor were they royal. They were good, honest people. Everybody and their profession was valued in Narnia since the Kings and Queens had been crowned.

“Yet here you are in the court . . .” Dafydd looked at you, his question hanging in the air and unasked.

“I command a fleet of Narnia’s army.” You smirked at the impressed look on his face, at the other cocktail of emotions he was hiding relatively well. It was always satisfying to brag subtly about your accomplishments to royalty, especially when you knew they doubted you some.

“I have to tell the best archer in Narnia that I'm in love with her,” Edmund snapped to Peter. He'd been somewhat moody all day, and now he felt pushed over some arbitrary line having to see Y/N dancing with Prince Dafydd.

Peter laughed. They’d just finished dancing, and were now observing the ball near the refreshments table. There were fire-eaters outside, as well as little jousting rings, and darts and cards inside for those who were inclined towards sitting-down. “About time, brother. You’ve only been pining for, what, five years?”

Edmund scowled at his brother. “Have not. Only three - ” and then he watched Peter chortle.

“So you admit, finally, you’ve spent years with feelings for her. Good. I was about say that we should form a marriage alliance with Calormen.” By then, the song had ended, and Prince Dafydd had broken away from Y/N. It seemed as if he was going to fetch them both drinks. “Now’s your chance, Ed.” Peter wanted to be encouraging, but Aslan knew his younger brother would need a lot of prodding before he was actually emotionally vulnerable with someone.

As it turned out, the dark-haired Pevensie didn’t need to be told twice. Edmund strode off towards Y/N.

You were half-way to a chair - your feet were positively aching - when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Grinning, you turned around while saying, “That was quite fast, Prince Da - oh! Ed. Hello. Didn’t expect you to show up with a mask.” You were only joking. He took these events more seriously then you did.

“Listen, Y/N, I’ve got - I mean, well - could we go to a balcony for a moment? I’d like a moment alone with you.” Edmund ran a hand through his tousled hair. There was color in his pale face, and his lips seemed fuller, oddly enough, from having been worried. You hated yourself for noticing. He wasn’t yours to want or love, and that seemed like somebody who was in love with him would notice. And you weren’t in love with him (you were, actually, but that had to be ignored).

You nodded carefully, tugging absently on a string of your hair, curled to perfection. Ed’s eyes were dark, like the sky when it was plunged into nighttime. All the lights reflected there made his look like galaxies, and the emotion behind them was contained and emotional; it was a bit painful for you to behold. You took his hand and let him lead you out.

As far as you were concerned, Prince Dafydd had been completely forgotten.

#edmund pevensie #reader x character #reader insert #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #golden age #narnia #peter pevensie #edmund x reader #voyage of the dawn treader #prince caspian #oneshot #narnia oneshot #edmund pevensie oneshot #cecily writes

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whopooh · 7 years

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Miss Fisher and the art of swapping bodies or roles – April’s fic prompt

So, who am I now?

I would never have believed beforehand how fun the trope body swap/role reversal would turn out to be. I thought it would be almost impossible – but just like the soulmate trope in January, there is something about inserting an odd and unnatural element in a story that not usually has that, and then thinking about how you could make sense of it, that is incredibly rewarding. For me, that even meant contributing with more than one story, which is a little odd when doing the summary, but I’ll just have to manage anyway.

The wonderful thing with these tropes is that they can go in so many directions – and in a group of writers like ours, they also do. Taken literally or metaphorically, used as a trope or a theme, being predominantly humorous, sexual, or emotional – each fic simultaneously brings the enjoyment of that separate story and its idea, and adds to the larger enjoyment of the fics taken together. This makes these joint challenges so much fun -- and also the creation of these overview posts.

This is the structure I have made for this post: I will start with the use of body swap written as a theme, then turn to the weaker kind of swap, the role reversal, going through half-swaps, before ending with the body swaps proper.

The body swap used thematically rather than as a trope is the case in @scruggzi, “Ring of Roses”. The idea of body swap is very well used here as part of the case fic, tying it to a medical condition, the Capgras Delusion, where the ill person becomes a murderer from a belief their loved ones have been body swapped and replaced by something threatening. Making the murders a personal tragedy in more than one sense fits so well into the world of MFMM. The sadness of the case is woven together with the emotions and humour of the relationship between the detectives, and a lovely amount of snarky Mac on the side.

‘A serious scholar always seeks to improve himself Miss Fisher and you did appear to appreciate my firm grasp of German.’ ‘I do like a studious man.’ She smirked up at him, leaning in to straighten his tie. Good God, thought Mac, it is far too early in the morning for these two. You would think the presence of an over-ripe corpse in the room would put them off, not that it ever has before.

There is also a very serious side to the treatment of mental illness that Phryne and Mac pick up on in a wonderful exchange, that we meet in an italicised retrospect:

‘Of course, people will come up with all manner of ridiculous reasons for locking women away.’ The doctor observed with distaste. ‘Sadly true.’ Phryne had agreed. ‘I suppose we should be thankful neither of our families have ever paid too much attention to our lifestyle choices or either one of us could have ended up on the wrong end of a spurious diagnosis.’ ‘Well between my unnatural appetites and your shameless pursuit of cock, there's clearly something wrong with us.’ Mac responded, dripping sarcasm into her whiskey as she drained her glass. ‘Unnatural appetites and the shameless pursuit of cock’ had become a favourite toast between the two of them for months after that conversation. Faced with the trembling, defiant face of Samantha Brown, it suddenly seemed far less of a joking matter.

Awkwardness in morgue.

Another thematic fic is @kidnthehall, “Jane D’oh” -- a fun one-shot that is centred on Awkward Mac. Phryne and Mac being best friends is often explored with Mac commenting on Phryne’s relationships, and I love when the opposite happens and Mac is in the centre – like here, where Phryne uses all her detective skills on her friend:

Mac feels the Fisher radar scanning her and feels exposed so she grabs the manila folder and stares at a spot on the floor behind it. Phryne tilts her head, damn it, she'll start sniffing like a blood hound soon, and moves towards the body draped in a white sheet.

Flipping Mac into the centre can be seen as a narrative role reversal (although not in their friendship, that is decidedly already equal). Then we also get the dialogue’s amusing way of mistaking whether they talk about the victim in the morgue or Mac’s lover, and finally there is a literal body swap at the morgue, due to Mac’s distraction. It is all fun, and to top it all up, also Jack is awkward, and this is commented on with the stunning image of “his whole being is sort of reluctantly turned towards Phryne like a moderate heliotrope”.

A third way of doing the swap thematically is @longlineoftvdetectives, “The Most Vivid Dream”, where the body swap is in a dream, and Phryne envisions herself as another of Essie Davis’s roles, Elizabeth Woodville in “The White Princess”. It’s a deliciously meta oriented vignette, with Jack proposing that Phryne is such a wonderfully alive person that she might “occasionally have to overflow into other consciousnesses to express that life force…”.

Wait, isn’t this my desk now?

On to the trope of role reversal, then, that is dominated by reversals between Phryne and Jack. This is such an interesting trope, opening up for many thoughts about canon and character -- especially in a world like MFMM where equality and power dynamics are already so interestingly made -- and on how those can be transposed while still keeping the character’s gist – to also in the reversal keep true to the characters. That gives so much enjoyment to the reader to try to follow.

First I must mention the magnum opus of role reversal in this fandom, @promisesarepiecrust's “City that works”. It is an incredible story, the role reversal set in a modern AU, where Phryne is a policewoman and Jack is a PI leading a liberal life. I am so impressed with how it changes the roles and the gender, but is very far from turning into some stereotypical male/female behaviours. It is a treat to explore the relationship through this lens – every thing the one character does, I as a reader first have to read like it stands, and then double back and consider how it would sound with the genders swapped back. In this challenge, we had the pleasure of a vignette from this AU, @promisesarepiecrust’s “Light and True”. From the perspective of Phryne, the restrained detective, we have a a musing about their different ways of being:

She knew her appeal, in fact had very strong evidence of her appeal, and felt confident in it. It was simply that the currents around her were somehow tighter and more intense; it was that people got close to her and then were more interested, while the currents around him were broad and inviting, and nearly irresistible from the start.

and then:

He was the only person she knew like this, someone with a seemingly boundless affection that was both deep and true but also light and easily shifted. And she did believe that he felt actual affection for the people around him. (---) ‘Light and true,’ she mused. She knew she could work with ‘true’; but could she work with ‘light’? Was it only possible for it to be light?

Another version is @loopyhoopyfrood’s “What’s in a name?”, that explores the reversal by making Phryne suggest that they switch roles for an undercover mission, so that Jack would be the wealthy Mr Fisher and she the accompanying Miss Robinson. The vignette is all about the setup and their banter:

“Miss Fisher, I am not pretending to be you.” “Not me, Jack, don’t be ridiculous. I thought we’d already established that fans wouldn’t work for you.”

And it’s about Jack, overruled by the energy of Phryne, finally finding at least one small part where he can stand his ground.

In @whopooh's “The Inspector Is In”, the role reversal is pulled through as a punishment from the Commissioner. He decides to punish Jack for going against his orders in the tennis case; when the Commissioner forbade Jack to collaborate with civilians he made Phryne an Honorary Constable. And so the Commissioner makes Phryne an Honorary Inspector with the power to take over City South station and become Jack’s boss.

While Jack has to struggle with this development, the reversal makes them inhabit the other’s role, take over aspects of each other, and stretch into each others’ spaces – Phryne taking over the office and making his chair hers; Jack inviting her home for a nightcap and feeding her; Jack coming across one of her crime scenes randomly so Phryne has to rise from a crouch to face him. They also realise some things about why the other behaves in certain ways, and balance between the two:

She realised there was a distinct difference between having a nightcap at her place and at Jack’s. (...) She could feel her heartbeat accelerate and her stomach constrict. Or wasn’t it because of the setting? Was she just experiencing what it meant to be Jack Robinson?

As Phryne is at Jack’s house at a nightcap, she realises that “If she was to be Jack Robinson, she could at least make him a little bit bolder than he usually was.” The Commissioner didn’t really realise what kind of avalanche he actually set off when he appointed his Honorary Inspector.

Who’ll come after whom?

An incredibly emotionally satisfying version of the role reversal is @ladyroxie, “When Fortune Leads" , that hinges around the idea of reverting the very end of season 3 and the “Come after me” exchange: what if Jack was the one leaving Melbourne? As he is so much depicted as a pillar of his city, this becomes a very special move. Jack accepts a job offer in Sydney and comes to tell Phryne about it, and she attempts to celebrate it by champagne – probably the most disastrous champagne scene in the whole fandom, since none of them is the least in the mood for celebrating. Jack does not want to ask too much from Phryne, afraid she might feel caged – Phryne doesn’t want to be anything but supportive about him pursuing his career and making his own choices – thus none of them speak about their feelings, but instead try to suppress them and pretend that everything is fine, which is inadvertently another way of caging the other, not allowing them to choose what they want to be, without realising that.

Sometimes, he was sure she had changed; sure that the ripple of attraction that was there had grown into something more for her, not just him. Once standing in her parlour, he'd made himself known, and he lived with that, surprisingly simply. He loved her, and she knew. He would not ask for more, for doing so would have him become the very person she needed him not to be.

The upheld facades and the rolling emotions behind them are a glorious contrast, the certainty in them both that it is all over, and a very short, fumbling kiss goodbye. Then the explosion of understanding and recognition in the end is like bathing in joy and happiness -- this fic could easily be put in the hurt/comfort trope of May. It forced me to make a ridiculously long comment on AO3, so I won’t try to encapsulate it all here.

Over to the category that isn’t so much body swap as some kind of out of body experience, a half body swap perhaps, without the full switch.

@missingmissfisher & comeaftermejackrobinson’s “I wander all the while” explores Phryne out of her own body, while she is in a coma – working from the setup that it was indeed she who was in the car accident of Blood at the Wheel, though she didn’t die but turned unconscious. Her life force, though, is so strong and lively it cannot be contained by her unconscious body. Instead she finds herself walking around in her world – at Wardlow, and seeking out her friends – and seeing it depopulated, desolate, and in mourning. Phryne is completely isolated, just an onlooker, while no one can see or hear her. Or, as it turns out, almost no one. Jane can, but she is afraid to tell anyone because she fears they will conclude she has inherited her mother’s insanity. She recognizes Phryne’s character:

But I think you’re trapped there, inside your own head. Your soul, your spirit… It has always been, well, restless and reckless. It wouldn’t like being trapped, right? It wouldn’t like being caged, unable to express itself.

It also turns out Jack can see her, but it takes work to make him believe he isn’t just dreaming. And then Phryne’s unconscious body suffers a heart arrest. It is a very emotional journey for Phryne, and for her makeshift family, as they face the possibility that she will never wake up again.

“Are you in here, Jack?”

Another take of a half-swap is Jack coming into Phryne’s body, but she’s still there and they need to come to terms with that closeness, in @ollyjayonline & @whopooh's “Show Not Tell”. The two detectives have fallen out and are not talking to each other, when a case they have been working on, separately and unbeknownst, goes wrong. Phryne is captured and Jack is badly wounded, and when he wakes up they realise he is there with her, in her mind. They can have no secrets for each other as they can sense both the other’s thoughts and feelings – which means they can freely banter in her head, but they cannot hide anything as the other is feeling what they feel while talking. This is a moment of understanding the other’s way of thinking and behaving. Jack, sure that Phryne doesn’t really love him, encounters her emotions about him:

“Do you believe me now?” “Yes,” he said, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. “Thank goodness. It was getting quite ridiculous my having to argue that I knew my own mind.”

But he is also there when she flirts with their guard in order to get them out of the mess:

“Who are you?” Phryne said in her best 'little girl in need of help' voice. The man crouched down to help her sit up. ‘My God, I can’t believe that actually works.’ ‘Shush!’

All their internal bantering and realisations happen while they need to think fast and get out of captivity, to save the wounded Jack before it’s too late.

So, who’ll lead the waltz?

In the category of body swap proper, three fics explore one of the most intriguing possibilities of the trope – Phryne and Jack swapping bodies, and therefore also gender, while being in a relationship.

@gaslightgallows’s chapter 517 of “You asked for it”, "Incomprehensible”, explores this idea in drabble form – the forceful meeting of bodies when they are inhabiting each other’s, and in a beautiful way describing the meeting so it doesn’t really matter who is who – it all blends together: “This body knows what to expect, even if you don’t.”

@jeneenp/Collingwoodgirl “Perks” is a very humorous and tongue-in-cheek version, exploring the idea that Phryne, sexually intrigued by having a male body, would have problems to reign herself in, not at all managing to be a selfless lover but quite the opposite:

He’s annoyed with her but can’t help wincing in empathy as he watches her wrap a large hand around her softening cock, a hiss on her lips. “You promised you would try,” he pouts, unnerved further by the higher pitch of his voice and how much better it's suited to pouting than he is accustomed to.

The swap here is voluntary, they have decided to try this out for fun -- and then Phryne is so caught up with her bodily sensations that she becomes completely selfish. The characterisations are about yielding to pleasure or resisting, about being turned on by the other or by oneself, and also about being affected by things you couldn't foresee. Phryne is narcissistic in a very fun way:

“It’s just that I… I mean… you. You feel so good. I don’t know how you control yourself.” He barks a laugh. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Because you just called yourself irresistible, Phryne.”

It is intriguing as a reader to try to understand and follow all the implications of them having swapped gender: ‘He isn’t surprised that she knows exactly how to touch her body like this but he had not expected to crave the roughness of his fingertips. “Not fair, Phryne.”’

In Sassasam/ @phrynesboudoir‘s “To Climb Into Your Skin” (only available for registered users), the sexual exploration of the body swap is used empathically (even as Phryne has difiiculties not reacting sexually to the thought of inhabiting Jack’s body). The two detectives are in a relationship and have a row, where Jack retreats:

"Perhaps we should end this then, while the hurt will still be minimal," she’d finally snapped. "If that's what you want." "What do you want, Jack? You never say. You never give anything away." "I want you to be happy." "That's not an answer."

The two swap bodies during the night, and the reader gets to follow them in the morning as they slowly realise that something is wrong, trying to make sense of what has happened and how to inhabit the other’s body – and then in meeting their own. Jack wakes up to Dot wanting to help him to dress and is forced to encounter how Phryne is treated by some men; Phryne gets to encounter having superiors. They truly have to walk a mile in the other’s shoes, and see what they encounter. At the same time, they cannot resist exploring having the other’s body. Finally, they meet up and make a joint sexual exploration, in a way that is emotional and close, and where the reader has to keep on toe all the time to follow with the changed bodies and pronouns:

Jack felt his body flush and flood as Phryne’s masculine lips found his feminine ones. She was slightly rough but the body he was inhabiting ignited like dry tinder. Was this how she felt when he kissed her?

Wait a minute here, who’s who?

I conclude with two body swaps that aren’t between Phryne and Jack. In @whopooh's “The Honourable Miss Fisher Is In” Phryne has – and I am spoiling it a little bit now but otherwise it’s impossible to talk about it – swapped bodies with Mac. Jack is unaware of this as he comes to Wardlow, determined to finally lay his heart out for Phryne. Mac tries to make as good a Phryne imitation as she can, attempting to not turn Jack down, while Mr Butler tries to help her along.

Phryne, in Mac’s body, comes to find Mac in Phryne’s body in an embrace with Jack:

“Jack!” she exclaimed, horrified. “And… Phryne?” Phryne stared at Mac; they were both immobile. Then Phryne shook herself into action. “It’s not what it seems!” she said, loosening herself from Jack’s arms. Jack’s eyes left Mac for Phryne. “What do you mean? Isn’t it exactly what it seems?” “No!” Phryne said. “Well, yes! But no!” The last words were for Mac.

Jack realises something is very wrong, though of course he cannot guess the real reason but has to resort to other interpretations of the problem, while Phryne and Mac are intently trying to communicate with each other without speaking.

Last, but not least, @ollyjayonline‘s “A Day In The Life Of Senior Constable Collins” creates a body swap between Dot and Hugh, and again this gives a glorious opportunity to walk one day in the other’s shoes. This is a wonderful setup where Dot is rather certain about the providential nature of the swap -- “she felt there must be some deep purpose for this strange turn of events. Could it be to help Hugh understand the role of the modern woman?” -- which will of course come back and bite her, because maybe Dot needs to learn something about Hugh’s life. Dot decides to go to work at City South, being Hugh for one day, and it’s lovely to follow both successes and problems, and she also gets to see another side of working with Jack Robinson as a boss.

The confusion is wonderful:

Dot looked at the uniform that had been spotless this morning, there was now a rip at the cuff and the mud at the knees would take a special soak. My goodness she was going to be mad at herself when she got home and saw the extra time she would need at tomorrows laundry tub, not to mention the needlework. Perhaps she could rub the mud off and then she’d never notice? It occurred to her that, in a day full of the unexpected, this was probably not the strangest conversation she was going to have with herself.

Dot excels in some parts of the job, and has problems with others. When she is made to drive the car, as they have arrested a man, the Inspector tells the suspect: “I’m sorry about that, I hadn’t intended to torture a confession out of you.” Dot gets to see the interactions at the station, with the Commissioner and Jack, and when she, as Hugh, makes excuses for Dot not coming to work at Miss Fisher’s that day, she fumbles so it sounds like she is pregnant, while it’s really a more serious case of having another person inside your own body.

That was all for the April prompt (here is the full fic list). I know there might be someone coming in late with their fic, and I’ll be happy to add it to this post if that happens.

Here are the earlier prompt posts: January (soulmate), February (miscommunication), March (bottle episode).

I’m looking forward to see what fics might emerge from the May challenge that is a much broader one -- hurt/comfort. Thank you to @firesign23 for organising the trope challenges! And I would love to hear your thoughts, please feel free to comment!

#mfmm fanfic #reading miss fisher #MFMM year of tropes #body swap trope

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butiaintgonnaloveem · 8 years

Text

Try to Understand (Part 1)

Characters/Pairing: Beta?Reader, Omega!Charlie, Alpha!Dorothy, Beta!Benny, Alpha!Dean Smith. Eventual Dean x Reader.

Word Count: 3.9k, or so

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, language

A/N: I didn’t intend to make this a mini-series, but it’s going down this way. This is my fic for @dr-dean‘s ABO Birthday Challenge. It’s an AU, so just go with it. My song prompt was Magic Man by Heart. This is my first time writing A/B/O, so constructive criticism is definitely welcome. Shout-out to @roxy-davenport for the assist and beta when I was freaking out a little. Hope you enjoy it!

Part 2

“I don’t see why this is necessary,” your mother says almost passively as she groans. The discussion had been going around and around in circles. You just hoped it would finally end with you getting your way.

“Because, momma, before I’m swept off for the merger, I think it’s only right that I get some real-world experience.”

“Stop calling it a merger, it’s a marriage. And you’ve already been helping with the company for years, what else do you need to know?”

“Yes Ma’am, I know.” You pause for a moment before continuing as you try to think of the best way to convince your mother. “But how are we ever going to move forward if we can’t innovate. It’s only an internship, I’m not doing anything dangerous and it’s not like I’m going to the moon. Come on, momma, please talk to him? Let me do this?”

She pursed her lips, “You’ve got to be careful. Consider how this will reflect on our family name.”

“Of course. Always.” You nod, hoping to appease her and speed up the process of her decision-making. Over the years, you’d figured out that she was typically the one with the final say on matters, and while she took her time, you usually found ways to sway her in your favor.

In the end, you’d won, convincing them to let you take the opportunity for the internship at Sandover before moving forward with your other future arrangements - including your engagement to Benny, the heir of his family. ‘Think of the family name,’ you mocked. Like you’d ever get the chance not to. It was known in practically every household for it’s multi-generation, multi-million dollar business. But also known in the more infamous way for the family stance on breeding practices.

You had everything ready for your move. You were just getting ready to walk out the door when Benny came by to see you off. He approached you with his slow sauntering gait and gently placed a hand on your hip. He held you away at a respectable distance.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

“Yes, Benny. It’s a great learning opportunity, and it would be unreasonable for me to pass it up.”

“Darlin’, you stay safe out there. Stay clear of any troublemakers, you get me?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to keep from rolling your eyes, “Benny, dear, I’ll be fine. You’re acting like I am going to live with a bunch of savages.”

“An alpha in rut? Omegas in heat? Savages might be the only way to describe them.”

“Well, I guess this will be a good learning experience, won’t it? I’ve already had to fight my folks on this, don’t start on me too, please. I’ll be back before you know it and we can move forward with the plans.” You gently smile and lean forward to place a light kiss on his cheek. He was kind, protective, and smart. There was no ill will or animosity toward him, but you also didn’t feel anything special; there was no real spark between the two of you. Your mother assured you that it would grow in time, not like you had a choice in the matter anyway. You were chosen for each other, practically genetically designed to suit your families and continue the pure, Beta bloodlines. Love and chemistry didn’t rank high on the list of priorities. Not when there was business to tend to and reputations to uphold. You keep a tight smile on your face as you walk toward the car waiting to take you to the airport, grateful for some breathing room and anxious for a little adventure.

Your first day at your internship had you buzzing with excitement. You practically ran into the building, eager to meet people and get started. But as soon as you entered, you buckled over from nausea. The lingering smells from alphas, betas and omegas felt stifling. You’d met and spent time with a few alphas and omegas, but never in a group or in a building like this. The building reeked of smells: musky, perfumey, earthy, sweet - all settling like a thick, wet cloud. You gasp as you try to get yourself under control, half desperate to run back outside for fresh air. The other half of you feeling drawn in, wanting to seek out the smells that appealed to you the most.

“Hey, you okay over there?” You look through the crowded lobby to find the source of the concerned voice, noticing a petite red-head tilted to her side, mirroring your stance.

“Yeah. Thanks, I’m just,” you take a slow breath in, “Overwhelmed.”

“New here?”

“Intern,” you shyly smile.

“Ah, well, come along, newbie, I’ll help you get to Mount Doom.”

The bubbly red-head quickly introduced herself as Charlie, and, as luck would have it, she worked in the same department as you. She helped you get set up, introduced you around, and gave you a whirlwind tour pointing out different departments, managers and projects people were working on. You passed a set of double doors, nearly stumbling when your head whipped around at a delicious scent you caught.

“What’s in there?” You gasp.

“Sales and Marketing. Mostly a bunch of douchey salesmen and numbers guys. If you’re smelling anything, it’s probably cheap cologne and dirty money.”

“Not a fan, huh?” You grin at her, as you tilt your head in the direction of the scent again.

“Well, like I said, mostly a bunch of douches. There’s one or two in there that are alright.”

“Huh.” You nod absently before your brain catches up. “So, wait, you don’t smell that?” You sniff at the air again, “It smells amazing.”

Charlie squints her eyes, before taking a suspicious sniff of the air. “Umm, no, sorry.” She knits her brows together, watching you as you flit your attention between her and the closed double doors. “Hey, sorry if this is too personal since we just met and all, but, um, have you presented yet?”

You bark out a laugh before you can stop yourself, causing Charlie’s face to twist in confusion.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. No, I’m not offended,” you bite your lip, trying to control yourself. “I’m a beta,” you assure her with a confident nod.

“You sure?” She gently prods.

You glance down, feeling the nerves fluttering in your belly. You can feel your face going pink, embarrassed before you can even break the news. You lean in so that you can drop your voice to a whisper.

“I’m a Y/L/N, I’m sure,” you say flatly, hoping you didn’t sound as snobbish as you thought you did.

Charlie blinks at you for a moment, trying to figure out what you mean. Her eyes grow wide, almost exponentially, when she figures it out.

“Wait, like THE Y/L/N’s?” She practically shouts.

You nod and pop out a quiet, “Yup,” pushing your hands down to make her lower her voice.

“Shit. Shit. Sorry. Come on. Let’s grab lunch and then you can tell me all about that,” Charlie tugs at your sleeve, guiding you down the hall. You hum and nod, breathing deeply through your nose to catch the scent again before stepping into the elevator.

Charlie becomes an immediate friend. She was curious about your family, but not judgmental, and a pretty open book herself. She invites you over right away to have dinner with her alpha, Dorothy, and you listen intently as they tell you all about some of the adventures they’d been on together in between answering your own questions about their lives as an alpha and omega pair.

“So, you’ve only heard stories? I mean, you’ve really never even just hung out with any before?” Charlie asked.

“Umm, well, yes, I’ve met a few, but I’ve never actually met a pair before.”

“And, you really have no family that isn’t in the beta bloodline?” Dorothy asks, settling back with a glass of wine.

“Well, none that are recognized, at least.” You shift as your nerves start to get the better of you. The conversation about your family’s practices always made you jittery. Betas. All betas. All by design. Descendants of betas who married betas to produce more betas. As a child, you heard and read sweeping, grand stories about alphas and omegas, about their bonds, and love stories about True Mates, but never heard anyone from your family speak of those same feelings.

“Meaning?” Charlie presses with a look of concern.

“Meaning...should someone in our family present as something other than a beta, they are...ermm, written off? I guess that’s the nicest way to put it,” you explain with a grimace.

“Whoa, whoa, like ‘written off’?” Charlie runs a finger across her neck to mimic slitting someone’s throat.

“Ohmygod, no! Not like that! At least, not recently,” they both look at you with blank expressions as your attempt at humor falls flat, making you groan at yourself. “Okay, well, at this point, it doesn’t happen often, but a few years ago I had a cousin, Anna, who presented as an omega. As soon as she got through her initial heat, they had her pack a bag. The driver took her to a hotel and handed her an envelope of cash. She was left there, and now the family acts like she just died; pretends she doesn’t exist any more.”

Their hands clench together on the tabletop, and when you finally look up to meet their eyes, they look horrified. A wave of shame washes over you, making your stomach push up a bubble of bitter bile that you swallow down to continue.

“I, uh, I kept in touch with her, though. She’s actually doing really well. She found an alpha and they’re really happy, I guess.” Charlie and Dorothy continue to just watch you with shocked expressions. “Look. I don’t agree with it. It’s just, they have always preached head over heart, you know? When I was little, I asked my grandfather about the absence of alphas and omegas in my family. He very gruffly informed me ‘We will not be ruled by hormones. Our rationality keeps us civilized.’ And that was that.”

After a moment of silence, Charlie finally clears her throat, looking at you with a pained expression. “I just can’t understand that, turning your back on your child, on your family, because of genes.”

You can’t look her in the eyes any more. You know the way your family acts is controversial, but to really see someone react to it made you desperate for a change in subject. You swallow down the uneasy feeling and toss back the remainder of your wine.

“So, are those all first-edition novels?” you practically squawk, throat tight with nerves, face flush from the mixture of wine and embarrassment.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Charlie’s brow scrunched up in concern, but you try to keep your gaze fixed on the bookcase. You notice the slight movement of her hand squeezing Dorothy’s again before she chimes in.

“Yeah, yes, they are. They’ve been in my family for years.” She rattles on about her book collection while you try to swallow the lump in your throat. When you finally bring yourself to look up, Charlie flashes a quick wink and a friendly smile which calms you down some, relieved that it still seems like she wants to be friends despite what you just revealed to her. No matter how hard you try, though, you can’t rid yourself of the unsettling feeling that’s making your body quiver with nerves.

The moments from the previous night played over and over in your mind as your father droned on over the phone. Though you’d put some distance between you, your family still managed to inject themselves into your new life. You’d gotten more phone calls and texts over the few days you’d been gone than you usually received in an entire month.

“So, you ready to come on home, yet?” Your father asks teasingly. It’s the fifth time he’s asked that during the short conversation, like he is trying to catch you in a lie. You easily imagine his smug smile, one hand tapping a pen on his desk like he always did while on the phone.

“Really? I’ve only been here a few days.”

He chuckles at your exasperated response. “I know, I know. Just wanted you to know you’re missed. Your mother is more worried than she lets on.”

“Well, let her know I’m fine. Feeling a little queasy, but I think I’m just getting used to the change in scenery.”

“You need Benny to come on out there and take care of you?”

“I appreciate the offer, but no, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Alright, well, when you get tired of all those moody alphas, just gimme a ring.”

“You bet,” you say sweetly while your face remains neutral.

You hang up the phone, rubbing at your temples in frustration.

“Hey, you alright over there?” Charlie whispers in your direction. You feel your eyes well up with unwanted tears.

“I need to take a walk.”

Without questioning you further, she gets up to follow you. Your shoulders curl in as you fold your arms over your chest and duck your head down. You know you look like a toddler having a tantrum, but you can’t help yourself as you practically jog to the elevators. You slap at the buttons until the doors open, grateful that it’s empty once it arrives. Charlie slides in next to you, her own back rigid with tension as she watches you hit more buttons once inside. The two of you remain in silence for the duration of the elevator ride, aside from your huffing breaths. The doors barely crack open before you jump out, pacing the floor.

“I don’t get it. Just don’t get it, Charlie. I get being protective and all, but they’re treating me like they expect me to fail, or run home scared or something. I don’t have anything to be scared of. I’m just here to learn and live and then I’m going to go home and -”

“Hey, hey. Y/n?” Charlie jumps in, halting your pacing and your rambling. “Breathe, okay, take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that?”

You close your eyes, taking in air through your nose until you feel like your lungs might burst. You let it out slowly, then repeat the action, over and over.

“Okay, better?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod with your eyes still closed, tension slowly leaving your body.

“So, I’ve gotta ask, what are we doing here?”

You slowly open your eyes, taking in Charlie’s obvious concern; her eyes wide with worry, mouth drawn tightly down in a frown.

“Oh, Charlie, I’m sorry. I know. You barely know me and now I just started venting to you and you -”

“No, no, that’s fine. I just want to know what we’re doing here. Like, why’d you come here?” You turn your head like you’re trying to listen harder, like she’s said something you missed. She lifts her finger, gesturing at the walls around you.

You turn from side to side, elevators one way, the other way closed off by the double doors of the sales and marketing department.

“Oh. I - I don’t know? I just. Needed to calm down.” Your mouth pops out the fragments as you try to figure out why you came here instead of outside. You’re fairly certain that this had been your intended location, but now you aren’t so sure. Why had you gone here? Why does this place comfort you? You take another deep breath, letting the taste of the air settle on the back of your tongue. It’s fresh and calming, like that first breeze of warm, spring air - woodsy and earthy. You hum softly as the warmth from it spreads out from your chest.

Just then, one of the doors swings open, causing a gust of air to rush over you, carrying a scent so rich it makes your mouth water. You head spins, light and woozy, nearly making you topple over as you lose your footing. Charlie steadies you just in time.

“What’s wrong with her?” The older man asks, looking you over with mild concern.

“Oh, nothing Mr. Adler. Just some girl stuff, you know?” Charlie answers softly.

“Well, she oughta get home. An Omega in heat? The office is no place for that. You understand, young lady?” He nods at you.

Your face contorts with disgust. If you weren’t so busy trying to keep yourself upright, you’d have jumped down his throat for being so condescending. Who was he to call you young lady and tell you what to do? You came up here to relax, and instead you’ve got some shit excuse for an alpha acting like your father.

“Yes, sir, we’ll get this taken care of right away.” Charlie nods as he gets onto the elevator. The doors close before she speaks up again. “Okay, let’s just go get you settled in and we can figure -”

“What the hell was that?” You practically spit at her. “What’s his problem? And who were you talking about? Are you in heat, Charlie?”

She stares you down with worry and an apologetic look as you take uncontrollable, heaving breaths. Your stomach begins to ache as though you haven’t eaten in days, a steady pain pulling at your insides. Charlie’s lips pull back with a wince. Her hands remain caught in mid-air, like she’s hesitating. Finally, she speaks, her voice just above a whisper.

“No, I’m not in heat.”

“Well, neither am I,” you croak out and force yourself upright. You both stand in silence for a moment before a shiver of warmth rattles your body.

“It’s the flu. Or something. I’m just going to go home,” you cross your arms over your body, shaking your head in agreement with yourself.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Charlie mumbles. “We should probably try to figure out-”

“No. I’m going home,” you force the words out with as much conviction as you can muster while hunched over. “I must have caught something while traveling, you know how airplanes can be.”

You remain folded over as your skin begins to heat up, dampening with a light layer of sweat that makes you feel clammy all over. You reach out for the elevator button, feebly slapping at it until it lights up for you. Another pang pulls at your insides, making you draw your arms tighter around yourself in an attempt to reign in a shuddering cry.

The double doors swing open again and a figure stops just outside of them. The action pushes another blast of air your way and you moan as the heavily scented air hits you; a brief wave of relief. Then, there’s a voice - deep and clear - that cuts through the shrill alarm of panic ringing in your ears.

“Charlie,” it’s half a statement, half question.

“Mr. Smith,” she answers with a matching tone.

You want to stand up. You can hear your mother’s voice in your head scolding you about your manners. You know you’re causing a scene, and do your best to turn to greet the newcomer. You expect another old executive like Mr. Adler, but instead, you’re met by someone much younger. He steals your breath away as you take in his broad shoulders stretching the seams of his fitted suit jacket. Light brown hair, parted neatly to the side, framing his lightly tanned, freckled face. He’s gorgeous, despite the stony expression he’s wearing as his jaw flexes. His eyes are wide, showing off the most brilliant pair of green eyes you’d ever seen.

Your body freezes. You hear that voice again telling you to move, to do something, but it feels impossible. It feels like you’re stuck in a vivid dream, everything moving around you in a slow blur, your senses off-kilter. He looks at you as though he knows you, like you’re some long-lost friend. His focus so hard it’s like he’s trying to see straight through you. It’s intense, and sends a sudden jolt through you, making you tremble and gasp.

That’s when you smell it. Him. The apparent source of that delicious scent you’ve been chasing. The one you caught on your tour and that you sought out in your panic. It’s powerful, and now with him so close, you can smell the richness of it. Of him. There’s a bit of spice that tickles at your taste buds, mingling with the foresty scent you’d picked up on earlier, with a touch of tangy saltiness. Probably from the light layer of sweat that’s making his face shine in the light.

“I’m so sorry. There must be something going around,” you softly groan.

His eyes leave you, glancing at Charlie, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply. She gently pats at your back, but the comforting gesture just makes your back prickle with irritation at the contact.

“Charlie?” He asks again, his voice gravelly and strained. You hear it turn up at the end of her name, sounding like a plea.

“Dean. Just hang on. Okay? She doesn’t know,” she tells him calmly, smoothly.

“What? What the hell does that mean?” He steps forward. His voice makes you roll your neck, sending a tingling sensation right down your spine that settles between your thighs. You’ve never felt turned on by just a man’s voice before, and it makes your face burn red, adding to your inner distress at the situation.

You remain hunched over, hands digging into your sides as you attempt to draw the pain away from your core. His eyes move between you and Charlie, waiting for something. His tongue slips out between his lips, and you draw in a deep breath, hauling yourself upright with the inhale. You finally get a proper look at the man before you; his tongue still peeking out between his slightly parted lips and playing behind his teeth. It takes all your strength to suppress the urge you have to press your mouth against his and suck on his tongue and full lips.

The elevator dings and the doors roll open, startling you out of your inappropriate little daydream.

“I should really go,” you breathe out softly.

“No,” both Charlie and Dean answer in unison, startling you again and making you step back reluctantly.

“Y/n, okay, I know this might be a little weird, maybe a little scary for you, but just listen for a second, okay?” Charlie says as she and Dean both take a tentative step forward, making you step back. “I’m telling you, this isn’t some stomach bug, or bad sushi. You’re experiencing a heat.”

Your eyes start to well up again. Your fingers twitch while your body shakes with feverish trembles. A high-pitched, nearly hysterical laugh escapes your mouth as you continue to back away from the two people standing before you.

“No. I’m a beta. I’m a Y/L/N.” You point in her direction. “You barely know me. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going home.” Your voice wavers, and your feet try to disobey you, but you manage to step back into the elevator, letting the doors close on panicked faces as they try to dive at the narrowing gap.

Tags, as usual, let me know if you don’t want to be tagged. Cool? Cool.

@aprofoundbondwithdean @deandoesthingstome @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @demondean-for-kingofhell @helvonasche @ilostmyshoe-79 @kittenofdoomage @kayteonline @littlegreenplasticsoldier @luci-in-trenchcoats @notnaturalanahi @supernatural-jackles @teamfreewill-imagine @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @winchestersinthedrift @winchesterprincessbride @feelmyroarrrr @jpadjackles @deathtonormalcy56 @brewsthespirit-blog @attractiverandomness @mysaintsasinner @mrswhozeewhatsis @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname

#ABO Birthday Challenge #dean winchester au #dean smith #alpha!dean #alpha!dean smith #a/b/o dynamics #dean smith fanfiction #dean smith fanfic #dean smith x reader #alpha!dean x omega!reader #spn au #spn au fanfic #reader insert #spn reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #spn alternate universe #try to understand series #my writing

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zagenta · 8 years

Text

hear me out for a sec

Tbh all that’s left of the good h/a/m/ilton content that isn’t just pretty fanart of the musical is rly intriguing b/c i feel like it exists on this plane of existence completely separate from actual history or even the musical? Do you know what I mean?

Like I know its usually considered OOC writing for characters to be unlike canon but all the really interesting content i’ve consumed has evolved the characters so that they’re far more interesting their their canon counterparts, b/c ppl are using the bare bones of what was once probably a historical demon man to base a template for a fully fleshed out character. There’s been some really great content that delves into exploration of sexuality, gender, race, etc that’s based primarily on ppls interpretations, although that’s probably bc at this point i primarily only look at content by authors of color that talk abt LGBT+ characters of color.

Honestly it’s an excuse for some real creativity and exploration of intimate subject matter.

The femslash and the next gen stuff is a great example. Originally this post was going to be a joke that I was gonna write an original story featuring the hamilton next gen and nobody would have any idea, but really its true. Ppl have fabricated personalities out of practically nothing or very little historical info for characters that have very small roles or are completely cut from the diegesis such as Frances Laurens, Dolley Madison, Maria Cosway, Maria Reynolds, Martha Manning, Theodosia Jr, Georges and Adrienne, etc and I think that’s amazing!

And these practically fanmade characters are given stories that touch on LGBT+ themes, parental/child dynamics, drugs, racism, mental illness, art, music, etc. It’s surprisingly mature, and these characters expand upon the themes of the original text and adds additional themes and making it better, more palatable, and more satisfying.

Almost always set in a creative setting or a modern setting.

Not that there isn’t that mountain of weird fetish-y romanticization works from the fandom, there is, but at this point i’ve learned to tune it out. I just think its amazing how fans can expand a pretty problematic original text into something far more interesting (it’s actually a pretty similar phenomenon to what happened with T/w/i/light, 50 shades fiasco aside). There’s lots of cringey stuff, but the same fan cliches can also be used to great effect.

Perfect example? Nonbinary Laf: often a cringey token nonbinary flamboyant european gay stereotype or an excuse to fetishize daveed, but i’ve also seen (and written, not to hype myself up too much) works that show a lot of depth to his character, his defiant flamboyancy being an act of queer transgression, that are a lot more introspective on the experience of being a nonbinary or bisexual person and parent, an outsider.

Often its the stereotypes that were used to the point of exhaustion by white fandom that we reclaimed to spin in a more nuanced light (some of it we worked to deconstruct b/c it was just nasty but other stuff we’ve reclaimed).

Because seriously, what fans of color have done w/ the show vs. what white fans have done is honestly incomparable. I mean, I doubt Israa still cares abt this demon musical, but her fics were serious artistry. Same w/ Dia, but Sorry About the Blood in Your Mouth is AMAZING. And Peaches’ Maria Cosway Certified Lesbian is the most charming thing on the planet. I even think the silly shit has its merits.

& its strange, b/c most of these characters are so unlike their original counterparts, or were created from whole cloth, so they feel much more like *mine* than any character on some whitebread m/a/r/v/e/l show could be. And while, H/a/m/i/l/ton, as problematic as it is, is probably quite literally a masterpiece, these characters really don’t belong to the musical or to history. Sure they may inhabit the same names, but they’re not the same.

Butch lesbian Peggy is OURS, its not the musical’s. Stoner John Laurens, (silly as it might seem) is ours (well, its Vic’s), not the musical’s. Nonbinary Lafayette is OURS. Butch lesbian Frances Laurens with a F/un H/ome dynamic with her fucked up gay dad is ours. Technically-not-siblings/best-friend-cousins Philip and Frances is OURs. (I’d argue even the more problematic ones like Mads & TJ are so removed from the historical and musical reality that they fall under this category, fucked up as it seems).

They’re their own characters, they exist in a universe tangential to history and the musical but not the same one.

--And I’m gonna veer off into self-indulgent territory, but as far as my own involvement in fandom goes, I personally put a lot of work into this alternate universe. Closeted, ambitious, perfectionist Dolley Payne is mine. Gangly, neurotic, awkward gay Georges is mine. Angelica/Dolley the ambitious power couple is mine. Queer anarchist rebel Virginie de Lafayette is mine. They’re MY characters, and I’m extremely proud of them.

tbh im just gonna admit that me focusing on second generation of kids like Frances & Philip & etc and the women both in the show & that weren’t rly in it like Eliza & Angelica & Dolley & shit is how i reconcile w/ myself for H/a/m/ilton being a show based on the demon fathers & its not a perfect solution but tbh it gives me an excuse to just make up shit that are basically my own OCs bc half the characters i writer abt were never in the show. I know its basically an excuse to assuage my own guilt but there it is.

Anyways im not rly sure how to end this, if we’re mutuals i’d rly like your input. And pls don’t let this circulate around, i especially dont want antis to see it nor particularly do i care abt white fans’ opinions either

also i know this is super apologist i just wanted to express an idea

#shut up Janelle

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