#i wrote this few months ago and posted on ao3 too

[bunnyslize]

Keep Me Awake [Swagtre Fanfic]

Just a good old swagtre fluff, might be OOC. (idk if this should be teen rating or mature but it contains making out and stuff so yeah)

Entre’s laying on his cot, tired out of his mind. Late at night yet he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. It was no use, he didn’t feel like sleeping either so Entre decided to take a quick walk, walking might clear his mind from everything. He walked around the camp, checking each tent to see if anyone was awake. Not surprisingly, most of them were asleep. He tiptoed around, trying not to wake anyone when suddenly he felt a touch on his shoulders.

“Ahhh!” Entre screamed, surprised and scared at the same time. Who could this possibly be? Was he gonna end up like one of those horror movie characters? Thoughts swarmed upon his head as he trembled in fear, only to realize that it was Swag behind him.

“Ha! You should’ve seen the look of your face, so fucking hilarious.” Swag chuckled as he was trying hard not to laugh out loudly.

“God damn it Swag… You almost gave me a heart attack.” Entre sighed as he looked upon Swag with tired eyes.

“So, what are you doing out here late anyways?”

“I couldn’t sleep. What are YOU doing out here?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.” Swag grins as he gazes upon Entre’s tired face. “So, how about we go inside my tent or something, it’s late.”

“No, why would I-” Before Entre could say a thing, Swag grabs Entre’s hand and pulls him to his tent.

“Geez! Ok fine, I'll do what you want, it’s not like I’ve got anything to do so.” Entre muttered as he sat on Swag’s cot. Swag did the same, sitting right next to the other Once-ler. The two just sat there in silence, not knowing what to say. So quiet that they could hear each other’s breathing. Entre gulped as he felt awkward sitting with Swag like this. He couldn’t read Swag’s face because he was wearing sunglasses, even when it was dark. Why was he wearing them this late anyways? He could tell that Swag was smirking now, he definitely noticed that he was staring at him; Entre turned his head around in embarrassment.

After a few seconds of staring at the wall, he felt a slight touch on his hand, which he tried to ignore but it was too ticklish to do so. Swag was brushing his fingers against his, ever so slightly touching his fingers, playing with them. God damn, was he messing with him again? Entre could feel his stomach churn a bit, but not in a bad way, it felt weird. He just sat there, letting Swag play with his hand whatever he liked. It was not long till Entre felt Swag grabbing his hands, intertwining their fingers together. He almost jumped, face heating up inaudibly. Swag gave his hand a slight squeeze, making the younger Once-ler almost jump again. His face felt too hot, and his hands felt too sweaty.

With his thumb, Swag brushed it against Entre’s hand slightly. Was he trying to tell him something? God, this felt too intimate, his face felt like burning and Swag’s hand felt soft due to the glove he was wearing. Entre squeezed his hand back, wanting to feel the softness of Swag’s hand more. He could tell that Swag was smirking again, holding his hand tightly then ever.

“Gay.” Swag grinned as he squeezed his hands once again. Entre trembled, this shouldn’t be making him this shy, he thought.

“Y-you were the one who grabbed my hand…!” Entre blurted back, but still held Swag’s hand tightly.

“God, your face is so red.” Swag chuckled, suddenly letting his hand go. Entre sighed at the loss of contact, did he like it? No, he didn’t. He didn’t…? Thoughts were swarming again, but it stopped when He felt another touch on his body. Swag was now on his lap, straddling him, placing his hands on his shoulder and waist. Entre felt his heart jumping out of his throat, what the fuck was going on now? He was messing with him so badly, but Entre couldn’t say no. It felt weirdly good for some reason. Swag was half hugging him, Entre decided to hug him back with his two trembling hands, placing them on Swag’s back. He caressed Swag’s back lightly, not sure what was doing, but went along with his instinct.

Their bodies were pressed tightly, being able to feel their heartbeats combined, Entre hoped that Swag couldn’t feel it much since his heart was pounding out trying to break free from his chest. But Swag’s heart was beating as much as his, maybe he felt the same? He could feel Swag’s breath ghosting on his face, Still he couldn’t tell what Swag was thinking because of those stupid sunglasses, he decided to take those off. With one hand, he slowly took the sunglasses off him, revealing Swag’s pretty, half-lidded blue eyes. Swag didn’t say a word, but stared at Entre intensely. They both stared at each other for a while, lost in the gaze. He still couldn’t tell what Swag was thinking, but he could tell that he had a slight blush on his face.

Entre wanted to kiss that fucker so badly. He wanted to kiss that lips of his really badly. His lips were a bit chapped, but still it looked so kissable. Wait, what was he thinking? He shook his thoughts away but couldn’t keep staring at Swag’s pretty lips. Swag took notice of this and grinned, that infamous shit-eating grin was plastered over his face. Fuck, he noticed it. Entre purposefully avoided his gaze, feeling embarrassed but couldn’t help but keep peaking at his face from time to time.

Suddenly, he felt something wet on his face, and a face pressed against him. Swag placed a tongue on his cheek, licking him. Entre almost jumped for the third time, his face heating up. He trembled as he could feel Swag’s face so close to him and the tongue so close to his face, he was teasing him.

“Stop messing with me, you don’t know what you're doing…” Entre trembled out as he now felt Swag’s lips on his cheeks, almost kissing the same spot.

“Maybe or maybe not.” Swag pressed his lips on Entre’s cheeks, softly kissing him. Entre was going to explode if Swag kept teasing him. But oh, how the kiss on his cheeks felt so wonderful. Swag’s face was pressed right on his, breath ghosting on his face.

Entre decided to take matters himself, getting closer to Swag’s lips, trying to kiss him. They were so close, too close that their lips were inches apart. He paused for a moment, breathing Swag’s air. Entre made his move, pressing his lips against Swag’s chapped ones. To his surprise, Swag kisses him back, their lips stayed pressed for a good minute till Swag pulls away first.

“This is so gay.” Swag chuckles as he kisses Entre again, rubbing Entre’s back gently. Entre’s lost in the kiss, he parts his lips slightly, and as soon as he does that Swag’s tongue meets his. He gently sucked on Entre’s tongue, causing him to whimper slightly. This time, Entre pulls out first, panting and gasping for air. Swag gave no time for Entre to relax as he softly placed his lips against his, this time firmer than the last time, his tongue slightly tickling the other’s chapped lips. Entre’s heart thumped as he felt his lip tickle against the sly touch of his.

Swag heatedly slid his tongue inside Entre’s parted lips. He gave a playful suck on his tongue once again, his fingers ghosting over his neck. Entre followed suit, flicking his tongue over the older’s. His hands dug in his hair, but not enough to hurt. The butterflies in his stomach were going crazy as Swag’s tongue rolled over him lusciously.

Their lips parted against each other, both breathing heavily now as Swag wrapped his arms around Entre's body, pressing his own tightly on his, both being able to feel their heartbeats beating against their chests. The two panted, staring at each other for a good while, breathing each other’s scent. Two of them were consumed in the moment not knowing what to say anymore, just gazing upon each other's lustful eyes with flustered expressions. Swag gave tender kisses on the flushed boy’s jawline, rubbing his back with his free hands.

They were just enjoying the warmth of each other, till Swag made his way towards Entre’s neck. Swag’s breath ghosted on his neck, he was hungrily staring at it. Entre’s face heated up as he felt Swag sensually sucking his neck skin. His tongue lapped over his neck, Entre could feel his blush spreading down all over as Swag lavished his neck with kisses and licks. It felt ticklish to have someone licking his neck, but it somehow turned him on by judging by the small sounds that escaped from his throat.

His mind started to go numb as Swag started to nibble on it, still gently sucking his skin as well. Swag’s free hand was still rubbing his back, hands all over him. He bit his neck, not hard enough to break skin, earning a sharp moan out of Entre. Swag licked the place where he bit Entre, pressing his lips over it. Another bite, another moan from Entre. Each bite got a reaction, Entre trembling and grasping Swag tightly. Soon, his neck was covered in hickeys and bruises, Swag proudly staring at it as he kept on nibbling on his neck.

Entre’s face was bright red, his whole body trembling from the sensations. Swag softly rubbed his face, tracing his fingers on the freckles under his eyes. He gazed at him suggestively, making his blush darken as if it was possible.

“What was all that for?” Entre asked nervously as Swag kept caressing his face.

“Go to sleep, it’s late.” Swag got off Entre’s lap as he laid on the cot, suggesting Entre to lay down next to him.

“You’re not answering my question…” Entre grunted as he laid next to Swag, as he did so the older pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him.

“I’m cold, I need to steal your body heat.” Swag grinned as he pressed his body against the younger, making his heart thump once again. Entre didn’t say a word, but instead he wrapped his arms around Swag, hugging him tightly.

“Goodnight.” Swag closed his eyes, leaving Entre’s mind confused.

“Goodnight…”

[waywardstation]

Brave anon asking the big questions and winning the best prizes T^T

Thank you for the extra snippet!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

In regards to this post

YES! Thank you anon who asked!! (And anon if you’re reading this, genuinely it meant a lot to hear you wanted to see more of my stuff. Thank you ;w;)

And thank you friend!!!!! So happy you enjoyed it!! I really have a lot that I want to post that I hope people will enjoy haha, just gotta get over the hill that is this 20k+ multi-chapter fic. I did not intend for it to get this big, or stuff it this full of important events!!

I’m very glad you appreciated it!! ^^ <3

[felixbit]

what friends do

pairing: felix x gn!reader w. 2.1k genre: fluff, a bit of angst and suggestive content summary: at some point a few months ago, felix kissed you for the first time. you didn't mean to catch feelings, but the lazy make-out sessions on his couch were melting your heart. warnings: swearing a/n: this is a fic i wrote on ao3 almost a year ago for @ppiri-bahng! i just wanted to post it on here. unlikely for a part 2 but enjoy :)

At some point a few months ago, Felix kissed you for the first time.

You'd been friends for years up to this point. You met him not long before his debut, so you're his day one. There was always something about the way you interacted with each other that felt so right, and it's why you became such close friends so fast. You spent all the time in the world together, and you'd spend every moment of every day with him, if you could. Felix had agreed with you once that you were soulmates. He was the best friend you'd ever had.

There was nearly nothing you didn't tell or do with Felix. He knew all of your secrets, little facts about you, every person in your life that was significant to you, and it was reciprocated on your end. You two knew each other like the back of your hand, and it felt as if nothing could ever separate you. There was nothing you wouldn't do for Felix, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for you.

So, when he asked if he could kiss you, you said yes.

"Hey."

Your eyes opened, previously closed as your head was slumped onto Felix's shoulder. The television in front of you had some romantic comedy movie on, but you weren't nearly awake enough to know what it was about. You moved your head off of the boy next to you and looked over at him, his chocolate eyes returning your gaze. "Yeah?"

"Would you kiss me?" Felix let his words out nonchalantly, which you struggled to tell if it was the byproduct of his exhaustion or if it was his attitude towards the question in general. His eyes never left yours, so you assumed there was some care behind it.

You shrugged. "Uhh, I don't see why not. Why, do you wanna kiss me or something?" The thought of kissing Felix hadn't really crossed your mind, aside from the few times you stared at his lips a little too long and wondered how soft they were. But really, you'd never thought that way of him.

"I might." Felix pursed his lips and stared at you, which you almost immediately picked up on what he was doing. The look in his eyes and his expression was one you'd seen a million times before, it what was Felix did when he wanted something. You'd usually see it in the context of him wanting some food or to go out, but the look never changed.

Your eyebrows furrowed a little bit, wondering his intentions. Felix never liked you in that way, at least that's what he claimed. "Is this just a totally platonic thing between friends? Why do you want me to kiss you?"

"I just.." Felix trailed off for a moment, tapping his finger on his leg, "I want to kiss you because I miss kissing. The few times I've done it, it was always so nice and fun.. and I thought you'd be chill with it. It's not a romantic thing for me. It's just something I've wanted to do for a while, but I get it if you don't want to."

"No, no.. I get it. If it's not changing anything between us, I don't really see why not. Kissing is fun."

Felix smiled and nodded softly. He let out a sigh of relief and put his arm around your shoulder. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Yeah."

That's where it started. The first time you put your hand on his chest and your lips collided, his hands finding their way to cupping your cheek and the back of your neck, pulling you in close. When you first found out that you were right, his lips were as soft as they seemed. An assortment of little pecks turns slower and into deeper, longer kisses that are more drawn out and intimate. You didn't expect him to kiss you for that long, but you didn't mind. He was a good kisser, which he occupied you with for three minutes the first time around.

Every time the two of you broke apart for little gasps of air, he'd give you these smiles that would break you. Something made kissing him so fun and easy, so addicting and great. The way your hand rose and fell as it stayed planted on his chest made your heart flutter a little. Fuck, wait. No, that's a little too much. A little weird.

Then, it kept happening.

You'd be sitting around in the dorm kitchen, cooking up a meal, and a pair of arms would surround your waist. You'd look down, seeing skinny arms covered in freckles, and smile. Felix needed kisses. You'd tell him to leave you be, that you had to pay attention to your food, but his little pecks on your neck and cheek got you hooked. You'd end up with food burning as you were pressed into the kitchen counter, giving slow, sloppy kisses to Felix for far too long. When he finally let you go, he'd apologize for burning your food and take you out to eat.

Then it was movie night again. Then it was in his room. Then your room.

Felix turned out to love kissing a lot more than you expected. Almost any time you were alone together turned into a lazy make out session. You'd learned the ins and outs of what he liked, how your mouths fit together just right, how eager he was to add tongue, or how he'd always smile into the kiss when you wrapped your arms around his waist or put your hand on his chest.

Every time you'd pull away from him, finally stopping, you'd often end up laying your head on his chest and your head felt fuzzy. Your brain hadn't felt like this before, which was utterly confusing. This was your best friend, but every time you made out with him, your stomach would pull flips and feel like you had butterflies. But, in your head, he was just a friend.

Was he?

You sat on Felix's bed, scrolling your Twitter feed and turning your brain off to the real world. The room was nice and just cold enough for you to be wearing one of Felix's sweaters, which was your favorite. He'd always let you borrow them when it was cold in the house, and they smelled like him. They smelled like home, always taking you to a safe space mentally and cooling your anxiety for a bit.

Peering past your phone, you tuned back in to hear angry phrases coming out of Felix as he sat at his desk. Watching Felix play games was funny, since he never seemed to improve much at them. He always got mad when he lost, and overjoyed when he won. It was obvious he was playing a losing game, and it would be over shortly. You watched on, picking up more about how the game worked, as he gave up and the game ended. He threw his arms up in exasperation, standing up from his desk.

"You okay?" You knew he wouldn't ever really be upset over a game, not in a true way. Though, you always liked to ask so he could vent his frustrations and feel better faster.

"Yeah, fuck, it's just-" Felix let out a long sigh, covering his face with his hands, "I hate playing this game. I always end up losing a bad game and I'm in a bad mood for a while. I don't even know why I play it."

"Awh, 'lix," You opened your arms, "Come here."

Felix walked over slowly to the bed, slumping his body into yours and burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your heart tensed, a warm feeling shooting through your body as you wrapped your arms around him and held him close. He let out soft murmurs, speaking angrily under his breath in an unintelligible way that you couldn't make out what he was saying.

You rubbed his back softly in silence until he finally sat up on his own, looking at you. You met his eyes, entranced in his beauty for a few moments before you looked at his expression. Your eyebrows furrowed. "Felix.."

"Please?"

Fuck. Felix's smooth, deep voice always won you over. As soon as he pleaded with you, you folded for him. Your mouth pursed as you tried to fight off a smile, looking away as you took a deep sigh. "Okay, fine."

Felix smiled giddily and let out a small noise of excitement, which hit you in the gut again. You leaned back against the wall behind you, legs dangling over the short side of the bed as Felix climbed onto your lap. You reached up and brushed a bit of hair out of his face, which he smiled at. Your heart wasn't dealing well with this. Before you could keep thinking, he pressed his lips against yours and you were taken into a mind-numbing state of bliss.

Your arms stayed firmly wrapped around his waist to keep him secure as his hands stayed planted on your neck and cheek. Your kisses were always perfectly slow and tender, Felix never liking to rush through it. The way his lips dragged almost lazily over yours drove you crazy, but you took it at his pace, as much as you'd like to go faster.

At least he was a crazy good kisser. You could never get bored of kissing him, even if you had to spend an hour doing it. You just might, as your longest kissing session went for half an hour with only two small breaks in it. Making out with Felix could take up all your time, and you'd be okay with it. As much as you hated how much you liked kissing him, it was true.

So when he finally pulled away from you a few minutes later, you felt a tensing in your gut. Your lips formed a thin line as you looked down at the bed, unable to contain how you were feeling. Every time you kissed, your feelings for him got progressively worse. You'd reached a breaking point.

"You alright?"

Your chest got a strike of pain through it. The innocence and caring in Felix's deep voice could've shattered you in that moment. You were a house of cards spilled all over the floor. You wanted so badly to tell him a lie, tell him everything was normal and fine, but you knew deep down it wasn't true. You loved him.

"No." Your voice shook, tears forming in your eyes. It was too much to handle.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here. What's wrong?" Felix stroked your hair softly, leaning down to try to see your face.

You pressed your face directly into his chest, a place that had grown to be your comfort spot. His scent filled you with that soothing feeling, but your stomach turned again and you knew it meant something different now than it did before. A tear slid down your cheek. "I can't do this anymore, Felix. It's too much for me."

"Too much for you? Am I making you uncomfortable? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Felix wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

"No, it's not that at all," Your voice broke, trying not to sob, "I think.. somewhere in this whole kissing thing.. I caught feelings for you. I haven't been able to tell you because I didn't want to make it weird, but it was making me feel so guilty.. and I was liking this too much for my own good. I get it if you don't want to hang out with me anymore, Felix. I'm sorry."

Felix froze for a little bit. He continued to hold you and stroke your hair, but he was silent for long enough to make you worry. Your heart ached as you realized that this might be the end of your relationship with him.

"I think I did, too."

"What?" You pulled back suddenly from his chest, meeting his eyes.

Felix's brows furrowed as he nodded. "I wasn't lying when I wanted to kiss you because I missed kissing.. but I think I did it partly because I wanted to kiss you specifically, and I thought I'd fuck things up between us if I tried to make it more than friends."

"Oh, Felix.." You broke into a smile, a few tears still rolling down your face, "You should've told me."

"I know.. I just couldn't get myself to do it. You were in my head all the time, driving me crazy. I knew it wasn't what friends do, but it was the only way I could still be normal friends with you without going mad."

"So, does that mean we can kiss.. like, not just as friends?"

"Yeah."

[erwinsvow]

𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬

summary: aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.

word count: 7.1k

author's note: bau!reader + hotch is my favorite combo ever. i haven't written and posted in, like, two years so please be nice :) i've written so many other versions of hotch but this one just wrote itself. inspired by the amazing @luveline and so many breathtaking hotch stories and isabel (alisdas on ao3, not on here anymore i think :( ) who wrote of terrible coffee and late-night rides which i think started all of this and my immense aaron brain rot when i read that fic, like, three years ago. enjoy!

This was wrong, Aaron thought to himself. He seldom committed acts that others might say were wrong, or argue they could potentially be wrong, but this was different. Aaron felt wrong, a feeling he was not used to.

“I’m worried about you, that’s all,” you had said quietly on the jet early one morning. You two were sitting across from each other on the flight back from the team’s latest solved case, an excruciating long ride home from the coast of Oregon.

Your book laid open on your lap, unread and a bookmark tucked between the earlier pages. The spine was cracked, like you’d read it a hundred times before. He knew that wasn’t true though, it was just a used novel probably from the thrift store around the corner of your apartment.

You had told him once, back when you first started—back when he was still married and you were less affected by this job—that you liked finding used (pre-loved, you call it) books and picking the most worn out ones to take home. You said it means that someone used to love this book.

It felt wrong because you were too young for him, and too innocent to be mixed up in his life. What could you know about his thoughts? About the love of his life that divorced him and his son he only sees once in a while.

The rest of the team makes jokes with you, in particular JJ and Penelope. He’s even heard Emily pitch in, about your not-so-secret fondness for your boss. For him. 

Back when you had first started, it was nothing. Passing glances, working extra hard to please him and earn his praise—which was never given out generously. He hadn’t even taken the time to notice, never paid more attention than any other member of the team. What he did notice was your work ethic.

Being among the youngest of the team had instilled a drive in you to prove your worth. You always stayed an hour extra, came early, and spent  nights working the case even when you were yawning every few minutes. The most attention he’d given you back then was commenting that you’d had a good insight into the unsub, commending you on well-written reports and briefs, and offering you a cup of coffee when it was just you and him left in the sheriff’s office. He’d be rereading seemingly endless pages of the case reports and you’d be diving headfirst into the victim’s lives.

Your specialty was always understanding why the victims did what they did, figuring out their routines and ascertaining important details from their personal belongings. He was used to you flicking through diaries and boxes of mementos that were once treasured by another young girl, not so much older than yourself. 

He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought it was impacting you—reading through the journals of dead women who had been very similar to yourself, with similar hopes and dreams. It was depressing, he knew, and yet if you were bothered by it, you didn’t show it in the slightest. At least not to him. 

And back then, he’d never notice the sweet smile that always graced your face when he was asking you if you’d like coffee. You’d shake your head no, and take sips of water between your yawns. You didn’t even tell him that you don’t drink coffee until a few months later, after he asked if you’d ever like a cup when he offered. He can remember it clearly even now.

“Actually, Hotch, I don’t drink coffee.” Your cheeks were tinged with color like you were embarrassed to even be admitting this to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I would have stopped asking three months ago.” If he sounded stern, he didn't mean to. The burning on your face deepened.

“I didn’t want to be rude. I drink tea though, but I didn’t think to mention it. It’s not as easy to make.”

“Well, let me know if you need a cup of hot water then.”

You had smiled at that, and he had turned around to take another picture on the bulletin board. He smiled a little too.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, maybe a little too gruffly. He didn’t mean it, again, but it just came out that way. He thinks some part of him is trying to warn you to stay away before you get too close.

“We’re all worried. You went through something really big and didn’t tell any of us and even if you don’t care about us like that, I care about you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

Aaron’s gaze casts around the rest of the jet.  Derek has his headphones in, staring out the window and trying to resist sleep. JJ and Emily are playing cards—they should be sleeping, but they had a little too much espresso a few hours before. They’re too far away to hear you and Aaron speaking, but he notices JJ’s eyes darting over every once in a while. Spence is asleep, and he realizes that’s why it’s so quiet. Dave is reading a book, too, but he’ll stop and interject into JJ and Emily’s conversation.

He looks back at you, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a warm, boxy pullover from your alma mater. He thinks a little bit too much about you these days, and he can’t get it to stop. He shouldn’t profile anyone on the team, they have a strict moratorium on that, but especially not you.

You, who never fails to try to make anyone feel better when they’re down. You, who doesn’t make it seem like you’re analyzing their behavior, but rather observing and offering comfort in hard times. You remember everything the team tells you about their likes and dislikes, never forgetting a birthday or special occasion. He can distinctly recall fresh chocolate chip cookies on Derek’s birthday, carrot cake from the Italian bakery Rossi loves to celebrate when his latest book became a bestseller, and a new knick knack for Penelope’s office after a particularly brutal case.

You say it’s all in passing, but he knows it’s not. You’re trying your hardest to keep the team together in the little ways, strengthening bonds that extend beyond coworkers. You want to fit in and be accepted, and you worry so much that you won’t. This is your way of trying to show that you’re a part of this team too, not just the new girl and one of the young ones. 

Aaron blinks twice. You’re looking at him expectantly, and he wishes you wouldn’t. All he’ll do is disappoint you. 

“You don’t need to worry,” he repeats. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t say that. Why is it so bad for us to worry about you?” You look like you’re starting to get upset—it hurts Aaron more than he realized it would. It’s not bad for the others to worry, it’s bad for you. If you get attached, if he lets this get unprofessional, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself. Hurting himself is one thing; hurting you is another entirely.

“Let it go, Agent. Try to get some rest.” He looks out the window. He can see the sun coming up, and realizes he hasn’t slept since the night before last. He still needs to drive home—not really home, he remembers sadly, his empty apartment— and work on reports before he can even see Jack. He doesn’t think resting now is a good idea, and yet his body is so tired.

When he looks back, you’re reading your book again but your eyes are really paying attention to the words on the page. You’re just skimming, and blinking rapidly, and he realizes then he’s made you tear up.

His phone goes off—Haley, and he feels guilt building up in his chest, almost overwhelming him. He steps away to answer and talks quietly. He doesn’t want you to overhear and worry even more. When he comes back to his seat, you’ve fallen asleep. He takes the book from your hands gently and puts the bookmark in, closing it and resting it on the seat beside you. He watches you sleep and wonders if he’s making a mistake trying to hide from you. He thinks, and not for the first time, that you see right through him.

The plane lands an hour and a half later, and everyone is beyond exhausted. Even Spencer, who normally doesn’t need much energy or caffeine to start talking fast about something interesting he noticed about this case and this unsub, is unusually quiet. They’re all running on fumes, staying up two nights in a row profiling and then catching the unsub with the latest victim at one in the morning, and then boarding the jet soon after.

Aaron makes a decision, everyone can work on their notes from home and the report is due no later than day after next. Derek pats him on the shoulder and says no one is to call him for the next twenty-four hours. JJ and Emily exchange a laugh. Y

ou, he notices, though he wishes he wouldn’t, go up to Spencer and talk with him quietly. When you’re done, he beams at you and you at him. He wonders what you two talked about when they’re all heading out, listening to Spencer ramble about how the unsub’s use of his childhood spots as disposal sites offers insight into the abuse of his youth. Prentiss tells him to save it for the report. 

He and Rossi are walking back to their cars when Dave speaks up for the first time.

“You’re wondering what she said to him, aren’t you?”

Aaron stops for a moment. 

“You should know better than to profile me.”

“Oh, I’m not profiling. This is just me being observant. You should stop fiddling with your ring finger when you talk to her. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Dave, I don’t need to tell you that this conversation—“

“I know, I know. I won’t mention it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron. And by the way, she offered to write his notes for him if he wanted. He said it’s hard for him to write about unsubs with schizophrenic tendencies and she said she can try to help, if he wants. That’s all. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about this.”

Aaron gets in his car and doesn’t stop thinking about you the entire ride home.

-

You wish you could make it stop. The way you feel about your boss. It started so long ago, it’s almost a part of you now. Aaron is stern and his disposition is frightening, to the say the least. But only at first, you’ve realized, after so many late evenings spent discussing the case with him, breaking down the tiniest details, and him paying attention to your every word when you discuss the victim’s demeanor and behavior to try to figure out what had really happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you thought. You had gone to the overpopulated state school with the hopes of entering the medical field. You were a true empath, and there was no one’s suffering you couldn’t relate to, no one that you wouldn’t try to make feel better. All your life, people cried on your shoulder while you offered up words of comfort. And because of this, everyone thought you were a shoo-in for nursing or medical school, where you could help people through the worst days of their life.

All it took was a few days at the hospital where you had been working, a string of murder victims being wheeled in one after another, for you to reconsider your life’s work. None had survived the incident, but the killer let them live just long enough to be seen by the doctor, who then had to declare them legally dead.

Something about the victims seemed familiar to you, how they’d all come from wealthy families and were sliced up in their expensive clothing, expensive jewelry and watches smashed to bits instead of being stolen. You mentioned it to one of the officiers, who told someone else, and somewhere in that chain of events, your insight helped them catch the killer.

It was then, you thought, that maybe you should be working on the other side of these situations. Stopping the killer before it ever got to this. 

Then you’d done a one-hundred and eighty degree spin on your career, electing to pursue becoming an agent. You had been young, and motivated, and you chose to overlook when everyone told you this job might become your whole life, leaving no time for a husband and kids and a family.

You had ignored it all, working your way up from the local field office to child crimes in just a year and a half. The transition out of sex crimes to homicide was disturbingly hard, because at least before you’d had a victim to interview. You were no expert, not yet, but a unique asset altogether, combining a true mission to uncover the best in each victim, and figuring out their behavior patterns from bedrooms and diaries.

It was a unique skill-set, acquired mostly because a lot of traumatized children didn’t offer much to go off of. You had to turn to their childhood homes, toys, and scribbles to figure out what had been going on in the first place.

You reflect often on why you decided to leave child homicide when news spread that the BAU had an opening for one more agent. Truthfully, you hadn’t considered it at all, since you were more than happy with your current position and coworkers. You were solving cases, delivering justice, and bringing whatever comfort you could bring to grieving families.

In fact, you had been requested specifically. You, out of a hundred or more well-established, intelligent agents that could be a huge asset to the team. You were never special, and you didn’t like to think of yourself in that way either, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to hear that the team wanted you. 

And when you transferred over, everyone was so nice. The team was inviting, they respected your opinion, and especially in cases with younger victims, they revered your knowledge. You felt included, and invaluable, and as hard as you worked, you wanted to work even harder. 

Your boss was a brilliant agent and profiler, and so hardworking that you wanted to do anything you could to make his workload a little easier. You wrote the most detailed reports, so he would have to edit them as much.. You offered to pick up extra briefs, so he took home a couple less papers. And no matter what you did, acknowledged or not, you knew you were making the kind of difference you’d always dreamed you would. 

Aaron—he was only ever Aaron in your head, and Hotch the rest of the  time—liked you as an agent, and it made you happy. A little happier than you should be, considering he was happily married with a toddler and a perfect life outside of work. It was almost wrong, but it didn’t stop you from trying to impress him with your work ethic.

You always put aside your other feelings and focused on the team, and somehow in all of that, you felt like you were finally making your difference. You were close with the team and close enough with Aaron, that you hadn’t been worried to start that conversation on the jet now that all these circumstances were changing. Haley had asked for a divorce and he hadn’t muttered a word of it to anyone.

He’s so tired, you can see. You wonder if everyone else notices it too, or if it’s just you observing so closely. He has dark circles now, because he never sleeps, always working, and the furrows on his forehead are seemingly etched in and permanent. He misses his wife and his son, and you know it, and maybe it’s wrong to care about your boss so much that your heart hurts when you see him glancing at the framed photos of his family on his desk, or the tiny polaroids in his wallet, but you do. You think you’re in love with Aaron Hotchner, and you don’t know how to make it stop. 

You’re gonna get hurt, you remind yourself every now and then. 

Aaron and Spence have just come back from the prison, where they had an encounter with Chester Hardwick that they won’t really talk about. You’d been with the rest of the team in Indiana, and then two days later in Oregon. 

Aaron and Haley were divorcing, and it hurt him so much, you knew, because it wasn't for a lack of love. It was a lack of time, a shortness of hours in the day. He couldn’t be the husband Haley wanted and the father he thought Jack needed while being an agent for eighteen hours a day. It hurt you too, seeing him like this. You wish he felt better. 

The days and weeks seemed to blend into months. Somewhere in between Hotch’s divorce and JJ’s pregnancy, you had become complacent with your relationship with Aaron. Walking in together from the parking lot, leaving together at the end of a long day—usually alone and sometimes joined by Emily or David. Sometimes you’d have a frothy drink from a nearby coffee shop in your hand—to which you always hear, “My coffee’s not better than that stuff?”

“It’s not coffee, remember-”

“I know, you don’t drink coffee. That stuff is full of sugar. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls like Reid and Garcia too.”

You laugh, and then you wonder if it’s because he really cares or if it was just a passing comment. You share a lot of little moments like that. 

When his eardrum was nearly blown out after New York, you almost offered to drive back with him from Ohio to Virginia. It was instinct, because you just didn’t want him to be alone. You had exchanged a glance when he handed you the plate of brownies from the victim’s mother, and you knew he had read your mind. But he didn’t say anything, and you left it at that. You’re not nearly stupid enough to think that your boss reciprocates your feelings for him. Hell, most days you don’t even know what feelings you have for him.

Your seats on the jet are almost permanently fixed; near the coffee machine towards the cockpit. You sit across from each other, and sometimes you don’t even speak. He’ll bring you a cup of hot water, and he doesn’t ask if you need a tea bag from the make-shift coffee station, because knows they’re in your go-bag. 

When it’s his weekend with Jack after two weeks of back-to-back cases, Aaron is always working on the reports on the jet. It’s because he’s trying to reduce how much work he has to do at home, and even when everyone’s fallen asleep and your eyes are close to shutting, you get up and make him a cup of coffee. He’s never once told you how he takes it, and he doesn’t know if you’ve seen him make it either, but somehow you know, and it’s always right. When you offer him the steaming paper cup, he looks up at you with an entirely new look—something you’ve never seen before. You two don’t exchange so many words.

He says it all with his eyes, sometimes, even when you’re not looking. It’s gratitude. (When you get off the jet a few hours later, you tease Morgan about his snoring. Derek asks you where his cup of coffee is, and you shove his arm so hard he almost drops his bag.

In the end, it was you who had figured out there was something wrong with the Reaper’s last few victims. 

“Why would a nineteen year old girl date her teaching assistant?” You had questioned, looking through a file that everyone’s eyes had already seen. “An honors student, a freshman, I mean, none of this points to an illicit affair with faculty. She knew it was against the rules and her roommates said she’s never so much as skipped class.”

“That could have been because she wants to see him,” Derek interjects. “If they were truly in love like Foyet said, she’d take every opportunity to be with him.”

“But in an environment where no one can know you two are together? I mean, if she was in love and close to getting engaged, wouldn’t she tell her best friends? Her parents? How many teenage girls keep something like that just to themselves?”

The pieces of the puzzle that had once fit together so nicely were coming undone. It felt like the blink of an eye, from catching Foyet to him escaping. Everyone was on edge, no one more than Aaron, and your empathy still knew no bounds. Where you had once been able to focus on work and dedicate all your thoughts to the cases, you now were distracted and distant. Every other thought was about Aaron, as wrong as that might be. 

Canada had been something else entirely. It was difficult for the entire team to fathom, but nearly impossible for you. You had lost your temper twice—something you’d never done before— and thrown up when the team discovered all the shoes. JJ had run after you but in the end, Aaron was the one who found you outside.

“I’m sorry, JJ, I’ll be fine—I-I just need a minute,” you breath out, chest heaving and tears brimming. 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says, “take your time.” 

You turn around so fast, your breath catching, and you hate this situation. You could never hate Aaron but you hate this, you hate that he followed you and that he’s seeing you like this. You look weak, after two and a half years of trying to prove to him that you’re strong—strong enough to handle this job, do what needs to be done, and not cry at a crime scene.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” 

“Why are you apologizing?” He doesn’t sound mad, or like he’s belittling you, and you don’t know why that’s what you expected. This is Aaron, your Aaron, and even though he’s not really yours it doesn't seem to matter much right now.

“I’m making a scene. I-I shouldn’t be throwing up on the job or screaming at those unsubs or anything else-”

“It’s okay. It happens.” Aaron says it so concisely, you almost feel better for a second. Isn’t this what it’s always come down to? You need Aaron like air, and somehow he always knows what you need to hear. He doesn’t treat you any differently compared to the others but it feels different today. You can’t describe it in words. If JJ or Morgan had followed you out here, you would have said the same things, but you wouldn’t have felt this way. Like if you crumble here today, Aaron will be there to pick you up.

“Take your time, please,” he repeats. “I know you think you have something to prove to me, but you don’t. You’ve proven it already, to all of us. Admitting that all of this gets to you isn’t a bad thing. That’s what separates us from them.”

At that moment, a dam bursts. Tears flow down your face like they haven’t in so long, as long as you can remember. You think you should feel embarrassed, crying in front of your boss, but Aaron takes you into his arms and you can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. Cheesy, you think, but this is everything I thought it would be and more.

You’re not sure how long he holds you there, but eventually once the front of his shirt is covered in your tears and he offers you a tissue (Does he just carry this around waiting for one of us to cry?) and you head back together. This is the embarrassing part, you think, bracing yourself and biting your inner cheek. But if the team is judging you at this moment, they certainly don’t show it.

You join JJ and Emily inside the house, who ask you if you’re okay when you sniffle for the last time. Spencer asks you later, on the way home. Derek tells you to call him if you need anything. Dave tells you, “You’ll be okay, kid,” and somehow, you believe him. Penelope texts you once on your phone, checking in and promising a distracting, gossip filled girl’s night out soon.

Aaron walks you to your car, and says goodnight. You’re delusional, you think, once you're back at home. You’ve taken the longest, hottest shower imaginable and your record player is emitting the scratchy sound of your favorite Beatles album. You’re in a big shirt that’s getting wet while you brush your freshly cleaned hair and all you can think about is how it felt to be wrapped in Aaron’s arms a couple hours ago. 

You are delusional, you remind yourself. You’re checking your phone every couple minutes like a love-sick teenager. You think Aaron’s going to call you to check in, you almost feel it in your bones. You leave the ringer on incase he calls later—maybe he showered and sat down to work on some reports before sleeping. You fall asleep thirty minutes later, exhausted down to your bones, and wake up startled by your phone going off. In your sleepy delirium, you answer without looking who it is—assuming it’s Aaron.

“Hotch?” 

“Hey, sorry it’s JJ. We have another case, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, JJ, um, okay, I-I’ll be there in ten. Text the address, okay?” Your cheeks burn at the slip.

“I sent it just now. Listen, I’m sorry, but can you try Hotch’s cell? I called and texted and he’s not answering.” You feel your stomach turn, first because Aaron isn’t answering and he always answers, and second because JJ thinks he’ll answer if you call.

“I’ll try him now. I’ll call you back.”

You try him twice while changing and another time in the car. Your only explanation is that maybe he went to see Jack and put his phone away, but even that doesn’t check out. 

When you get to the scene, you inform the others about Aaron not answering.

“Alright, let’s split up for now and I’ll keep trying Hotch,” Derek says. They don’t seem that worried, and maybe that lulls you into not worrying either. After all, they’ve known him a lot longer than you have.

You end up with Spencer and Emily at the doctor’s house, combing through patient files Garcia sent over. There’s tens of dozens, and even though you want to go with Emily to Aaron’s place to get him, you know your experience with kids and in the hospital is vital. You and Spencer start working, but something feels off. You just can’t place it. 

In the end, you attribute it to your nerves from the last case. Your fear of embarrassing yourself carried into today, and even though you know no one judged you for losing it in Canada, the feeling lingers. Spencer answers the phone from Emily and says that Hotch was busy with something at the bureau that now requires Emily too. In the end, you and Spence figure it out just in time. Your body is so tired, it hurts, and then on top of that, Spencer gets hurt. You can barely process what’s happening, and you don’t feel better until the doctor says it’s through-and-through.

“God, Spencer, never do that again,” you say, your hands wet with the blood from his wound. You wipe it on your clothes, thinking you’ll change soon. 

“Guys, guys listen to me, something’s happened to Hotch.” The blood drains from your face and your breath stops in your throat. 

“What?” 

“Emily told me not to say anything until we got the unsub, but he’s in the hospital.”

The next hour is a blur. You all show up to the hospital, and Emily is talking to a bunch of agents. Their faces are blurred because you can hardly think straight. 

“Em? Is he okay?” your words must be coming out frantically because everyone’s looking at you like you’re about to crumble. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t say anything because I knew we wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case, I know it’s wrong but-”

“Is he okay?” You didn’t mean to cut her off, it just happened like that. Your mind is so clouded right now with a petrifying vision of Aaron dying alone on the floor of his new apartment that he hates so much, while you were waiting for a call for him.

“He-he hasn’t woken up yet.” 

You sit on a chair by Aaron’s bed. He looks like he’s sleeping, and a part of you had always wanted to see him like this. It would be comforting, if he actually was sleeping. You’d imagined it a little differently—you thought for sure he snores and sleeps on his side. You always notice sleep lines only on one arm when you guys have just woken up and continue working on the case. You stare extra hard when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt on particularly hot days. Everyone would moan and groan about another case in the heat of Texas or Arizona, but not you.

It seems like those memories were a million years ago. 

When he wakes up, everyone pours in and it distracts you for a few heartbeats. When they realize what Foyet is actually after, the terror is apparent on everyone's faces. You realize how long it’s been since you last saw Haley and Jack when they finally step into the room. You and Emily leave to give them privacy. 

Later that night, you’re back in that chair. Aaron wakes up for a few minutes at a time, and when he finally stays awake, he notices you.

“How long have I been out?” 

“Thirty minutes. Give or take.”

“Is there water?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You scramble up to get the pitcher and pour him a glass. There’s a straw too, which you put in the cup and hold still for a second so he can drink.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He can see all your emotions on your face. It doesn’t take him long at all, not anymore. You’ve been crying and your clothes have blood on them. He’s alarmed again.

“Is that your blood?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“No, no, Hotch. We had a case, the-the unsub shot Spence. He’s okay though, it just got on me and I haven’t been back home to change yet.”

“Why don’t you? Go home?”

“I didn’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I let you go home alone yesterday and look what happened.” You smile meekly at your own joke, hoping he appreciates it. He lies still though, not smiling. 

“I think you should go home. Get some rest after everything.”

“You know, Hotch, only you would tell me to go home and rest up when you’re the one who’s currently in the hospital.” 

“I just think-”

“Do you want me to leave? If you do, I will. I swear.” There’s silence between you two for a moment.

“No.” 

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.” The corners of his mouth turn up a little. You barely even notice it. “I can’t leave now. I don’t want you to sit alone here.” You should stop talking, you think to yourself. But you don’t. “You know yesterday, I got home and the whole time I sat there wondering if you were gonna call my cell. I even turned the ringer up all the way so I didn’t miss it. And I know that’s stupid because why would you call me? But I had this feeling. And now all I can think is why didn’t I call you?”

“Don’t think like-”

“Don’t think like that? Yeah, I knew you would say that. But if I had called you like I wanted to, and asked you to come over like I wanted to, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t because I was scared and I don’t want to be scared anymore. And I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, but I guess I can’t hold it in any longer.” 

You want to clamp your hand over your mouth. Your favorite cheesy rom-coms have infiltrated your brain, and you can’t fathom how stupid you must sound right now to Aaron. He’s just almost died and the kid who was the last to join his team is declaring love for him on his hospital bed. But it won’t stop coming out.

“Can I tell you something Aaron? I mean, more than I already have? Emily said she didn’t tell me you were hurt because she knew I wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case anymore. About anything, anymore, if I knew you were missing or that you were hurt or dead. And I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, because I know you don’t need any more complications in your life right now, but, I think I have feelings for you, Aaron.” Hot tears stream down your face. You try to stop them but you can’t. They’ve been building up for two years.

“Please don’t cry. I don’t have a tissue for you this time.” You smile through your tears, but your entire body is still tense. It’s because you’re still expecting bad news, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Do you want me to leave? I can call Emily, she’ll sit with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave. And you don’t have to tell me these things, I already knew them.” Another few tears drip down your face. Aaron’s chest hurts more than it has ever before. He thinks back to your conversation on the jet that day, when you told him you cared about him and he hadn’t said much of anything at all. “I hope you know that I have feelings for you, too.” 

“You mean you care about me and the team?” you question half-heartedly. You think you’ve already gotten your answer. “I mean I care about the team a lot. And I care about you more than I should, more than what’s right. More than a superior should care about one of their agents. And I think if this hadn’t happened, I would have called you last night. Not because of the case, because of you. Because I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest. Aaron reaches out his hand a little, and you take it into yours. You sit like that for a long time, and you know there’s so much else going on, but a small part of you sighs in relief. Aaron is okay, and he feels about you how you do about him, and maybe everything will be okay in the end. 

The months after Haley’s funeral are tough for everyone. It’s weird going to work and not seeing Aaron. Sometimes you inadvertently make a cup of coffee how he likes it and have no one to give it to. You started drinking some, even though it tastes bitter and terrible, it makes you feel close to him.

How stupid is that, you wonder one day, sipping the coffee and looking over files with JJ. If the rest of the team thinks you're stupid, they haven’t shown any signs of it yet. You’re sure they mostly feel bad for you and your pathetic behavior. You’ve gotten sloppy because you can’t stop thinking about how Aaron is doing. 

You and the team will go visit him and Jack at his new place. You make cookies, snickerdoodle for Aaron and oatmeal raisin for Jack.

“What kind of a kid are you?” you questioned, helping Jack scribble in his Captain America coloring book. He’s munching on a cookie while you try to figure out what part of the shield is blue and what part is red. “I mean, who likes oatmeal raisin cookies at the tender age of 5?” 

“I did,” Spencer says, taking another one out of the tin. 

“You don’t count, genius,” Morgan says, and then directs his gaze at you. “And I mean come on, no chocolate chip for me? None at all? That hurts.”

“I made you some like two weeks ago! I have a job, you know,” you fire back. Aaron laughs, eating the snickerdoodle after dipping it in milk. It’s so domestic, you feel yourself staring. You only turn away when he catches you looking. 

When he comes back, you wonder if it’ll ever feel normal again. That silly routine you two had, the chairs on the jet near the coffee machine that you still sit in, walks to your car. 

At first, it just feels strange. So much has changed yet the team’s dynamic remains the same. You get through cases with the same ferocity you had when you first started, eager to prove your worth again. Your reports detail every detail and then some, and you stay even later than Aaron some nights. You need something to focus on, and your cases seem like the best option. The other option is to have another conversation with Aaron about your feelings and you think you might die if that happens.

When it finally does happen, it’s plenty embarrassing. You were so sure about your theory about this unsub, so sure that he would confess if he was confronted about his crimes and reminded of the humanity of his victims—three little kids, all under ten. Maybe that’s why it bothered you so much, and that’s why you stormed into the residence even though the rest of the team was screaming at you not to. In the end, you talk him down, but Aaron runs in behind you anyways and nearly spooks the unsub into suicide.

“You do not have the authorization to make calls like that,” Aaron yells at you, and though you had once thought you would die if he yelled at you, it’s all too easy to yell back. 

In that moment, when you had known what would happen, dealing with your area of expertise, he stormed in and questioned you and your abilities as an agent and as a profiler.

“I don’t need authorization, I knew what would happen, and I knew how to talk him down without this ending in gunfire—”

“I don’t care what you think you knew. This is a team, and we don’t make decisions that jeopardize a case without agreeing on it!” “You mean you have to agree with every decision I make? I had it handled, Hotch, you almost blew that whole thing up because you didn’t believe in me!”

“That’s not what this is about,” he fires back, and it feels strange to be yelling at you. He can’t recall the last time he’s ever done this. The rest of the team is just packing up in the police station, trying not to overhear but not really having any choice in the matter.

“Yes it is! You don’t trust me! Not to make decisions for this team and for our cases, or for anything. You just proved that back there. You don’t trust me.” It’s happening again. Tears brew in your eyes. They spill down before you can stop it. Aaron softens before your very eyes at the sight of them. “Stop! Stop feeling bad just because now I’m crying, they’re not tears for you, they’re angry tears and I can’t control it-”

“Of course, I trust you.” His voice has dropped from a yell to just above a whisper. “How could you think that I don’t?”

“I’m not stupid, Aaron. I know what I’m doing. My plan was going to work and you shot me down in front of everyone because you didn’t believe in me,” you say between tears. “Nothing’s changed.”

“And what do you think would happen if you stormed in there and I lost you too?” His voice is gentle. You hadn’t noticed that he was so close to you now. You can see the eyelash on his cheek and feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“That’s not what this is about.”

“That is exactly what this is about. You think I don’t trust you, so I won’t let you walk into a confrontation alone? That I think you don’t know how to profile, how to handle these unsubs, so I get into a screaming match outside a crime scene? Tell me, does that check with any of my behavior in the years I’ve known you?”

“I don’t know, Hotch, I don’t profile you.”

“You call me Hotch in front of everyone, and especially when you’re upset with me. When it’s just us you use Aaron. You know how I take my coffee even though I’ve never told you, because you pay attention even when no one else is looking. Cases with children affect you the most, especially when it takes us longer to work them, because you think you should be quicker and figure out the unsub faster since you worked with kids before joining the team. You remember the little things everyone says because you don’t want them to think you’re not paying attention to them. You cry about cases when you feel like there’s something more you should have done, even though there’s nothing else any of us can do. And you cry about me the most of all, that time on the jet, in the hospital, and just now because you think I don’t share your feelings. You think I know all this because I’m profiling you, but it’s not. It’s because I pay attention to those whom I love.” 

Shell shocked. You are shell shocked at Aaron’s speech, eyes wide and mouth open. You’re sure the rest of the team, hidden behind a bulletin board and the conference table is much the same. 

“I’m going to kiss you now. And that’s the end of the conversation about me not trusting you, okay?” You nod dumbly. Aaron’s lips are sweet and taste like his coffee—black, with two sugars. You feel another tear falling but it’s only because you hadn’t expected any of that. 

“That took long enough,” David says from behind the partition. 

and voila <3

[mxtxfanatic]

Just wanna say for those of y’all who came into this fandom late: just a few years ago, speaking on Jiang Cheng with anything less than glowing praise used to bring so much harassment that “angry grape”-related tags had to be created to circumvent jc stans finding and subsequently dogpiling your posts. I’ve since seen this tagging convention appropriated by his stans to be an “affectionate” petname for his character. If you wrote a wangxian fic in which Jiang Cheng did not appear, your fics would get bombarded with stans flooding your comments with their own headcanons on why Jiang Cheng isn’t around but “this is how he’d react if he was” and “everyone loves him, they’re definitely thinking about him, rn” and “when is he supposed to show up, op???” If you read a wangxian fic and Jiang Cheng did appear, there was a 95% chance that you would have to slog through thousands of words of abuse apologia paired with every character (except maybe Lan Wangji, maybe) claiming that Wei Wuxian deserved to be abused and should just learn to handle it better because abuse is really love. It took me a year of reading purely (only, exclusively) wangxian fics to find a single fic that had both 1) canon Jiang Cheng and 2) did not twist the other characters into fanon iterations to justify canon Jiang Cheng’s abusive behavior. When more canon writers started appearing, their fics got flooded with negativity, claims that the fic wasn’t realistic because “jc isn’t like that,” and demands to change things. They started moderating their comment sections. Eventually, jc stan writers even stopped tagging Jiang Cheng in their fics despite writing him as a major character because people began to avoid reading fics if they knew from the tags that his character appeared.

The “canon jc” tag was created on tumblr because jc stans said that if we didn’t like being attacked for canon opinions we should “create our own tag.” It was not a tag that always existed. Nobody used it until my friends created it. And every few months after that, we’d get a new “flood the tag” campaign by jc stans pissed at the name until it died down… until twitter refugees arrived, bringing with them a new faction of jc stans. That jc appreciate week or whatever they call it that starts on Halloween? Created by jc stans in an attempt to flood out Wei Wuxian appreciation posts on his birthday by making sure that new Jiang Cheng content would dominate all the major tags on that day. I watched the creators brag about that.

One BIG fandom upset happened when a jc stan wrote a horribly mistagged rape and murder wangxian fic and had their friends promote it so that wangxian lovers would read the fic and be traumatized. They gloated about having "successfully baited people," then tried to delete their tweets admitting it when they got them in trouble. I was there for that, too, and I only dodged being triggered because I saved the fic to read for later instead of cracking it open immediately.

Some of y’all may see me around now, but I’ve been watching this fandom for much longer than I’ve been making posts, before even the friends and mutuals I know now even knew I existed (yes I was a lurker lol). I’ve seen the development of all this play out across tumblr, ao3, and twitter (despite my best efforts to avoid the twitter side, that’s how ubiquitous it was). That’s how inescapable it was. I saw so much shit go down that I already had a mile-wide blocklist before I made my first post, and even then, I still got hate commentary on some of my posts the moment I dipped my littlest toe into metas. I had anon off for like a year because I didn’t want to deal with any harassment, and the moment I turned it off, I started getting bait anons (though not as bad as the others I’ve seen, holy shit). When I started this blog, all I did was liveblog and reblog other people’s art and metas. I was so stressed entering this fandom because the shit I had seen off rip was absolutely disgusting. That’s why I have very intentional rules of engagement that I try to hold to for myself. I may never be the first to start the fight, but I damn sure will defend myself and my friends. I also will never run away from admitting my mistakes, but I will also never be bullied into treating someone’s personal fantasies as equal to the actual factual text.

This isn’t to say that fanon enjoyers don’t get harassment. Another big fandom scandal was that a popular fanfic writer obsessed with canon had been harassing other writers through a series of bot accounts into leaving the fandom. What a lot of people don’t bring up in their bid to paint canon enjoyers as particularly prone to “fandom bullying,” however, was that the “canon” they were obsessed with was tied almost exclusively to the canon wangxian’s top/bottom sexual dynamic. I’d read that person’s works before—enjoyed them, even, before the scandal happened. They wrote fanon into their fics in other ways. The fanon/canon divide isn’t the problem; entitlement to unanimous fandom praise and recognition is.

There’s nothing wrong with enjoying canon or fanon, nothing right or wrong or morally superior for either camp. But do me a favor: go into the main jiang cheng character tag right now, and count how often you see a post about Jiang Cheng that portrays him in a negative light. Not one that portrays him as an snarky asshole or a teacher’s pet or a helicopter parent or a crybaby who only wants to be loved, but one which shows him in all of his uncensored glory as a piece of shit antagonist. How often do you see fanart of Jiang Cheng that isn’t “best jiujiu” or “sad didi” or “badass sect leader”? How often do you see metas that don’t include some iteration of “everyone is just so mean about poor little jc who just didn’t have a choice in anything he ever did 😢”? Go to the main novel tag and do the same. Hell, go to the wangxian tag and see what you find while you’re at it. How many of those posts are viral compared to “look at jc with his dogs!” or “look, I made lxc and jc kiss!” Then tell me whether or not you believe that jc stans are being specifically targeted for some unique and undeserved persecution by the fandom at large.

[nocasdatsgay]

So Where Do I Start?

Pairing: Eris x F-Reader | Rating: E 🌶️| Eris POV

Word count: 2256 | one-shot | Read on Ao3

Summary: You aren’t fully comfortable with your post baby body and Eris is not having it.

CW: an off screen baby, post baby body, insecurities, sex

A/N: I’ve never had a baby but I do have body issues 😂 there is also a part where Eris thinks about how much he basically missed the intimacy- don’t misconstrue it as him needing sex. I worried when I wrote that. If enough ppl like it I’ll post it on ao3 🫣 I put it on ao3

No tag list for this one cause I don’t want to subject ppl to baby content if they don’t want it 🫣

Eris had been flirting with you all day. You’d asked around lunch what had gotten into him and honestly he didn’t have an answer. Maybe it was the fact you’d both gotten decent sleep, your babe finally being at a point where they could sleep through the night. Maybe it was the fact things had slowed down for him, having finally caught up with paperwork and meetings now that he’d returned to focusing on high lord duties after the weeks spent helping with the baby.

Or maybe he just loved you. Which was nothing new.

Of course when you both got into bed, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Soft kisses deepened and he pushed up your nightshirt, determined to pull it off but you shoved at his hand. He pulled away immediately, looking down at you with furrowed brows.

“Do you want me to stop?” He whispered. Gods, it felt like it might kill him but he’d do it.

“No.” You didn’t look him in the eyes. “I just, I don’t want,” your voice trailed.

“That’s not exactly reassuring.”

Your gaze met his. You frowned at him. He frowned back. He tried to think of what was bothering you. It had been a few months. Recovery from birth was one of the longer healing processes even in high fae. It was highly possible you weren’t ready despite Edith stating you’d healed up perfectly a month ago. Just because you were cleared didn’t mean you were ready.

“I can wait,” he added. “I am more than happy just keep kissing you.”

“No.” Your eyes widened. “No, I want you. I do. I just. Maybe just leave my shirt on?”

He frowned again. “My love, we talked about this.”

And you both had. He noticed immediately when you started staring too long in the mirror and when you changed up your style of clothing. It took him weeks to convince you to bath with him again, to let him see you fully nude in a neutral setting.

“I know, but this is different.”

“How is it different?” He chuckled and you pouted at him. He sent his love through the bond hoping you’d forgive him for laughing.

“What if- I just don’t think I can handle it if, you know.” You bit your lip and looked away.

“If what?”

“If you- gods Eris you’re such an ass, don’t make me say it.” He grinned at you and it only flustered you more. “What if I kill your mood?”

He blinked, his own eyebrows raised up. “As if you haven’t smacked me several times already in the past month because I have gotten handsy in the bath.”

“That was different,” you protested. “You were just playing.”

He let his voice drop low and put his hand back on your shirt when he replied. “I never play with how much I want you.” He could smell your arousal spike back up. He made sure to lower hand and trace his fingers on your thigh. “Let me show you. If you still don’t believe me then we’ll stop and I’ll go to sleep in the study. Do we have a deal, my fire?”

“Gods you don’t play fair,” you said breathlessly.

“Whatever do you mean?”

He’d already distracted you enough to get his hand farther up your thigh, the shirt inching up with it. He reached your hip, his fingers running over your infernal underwear.

“Can I?” He asked, hooking a finger on the band.

“I don’t know. Can you?” You smarted back.

He looked you straight in the eyes when he replied, “I can and I will.” Then he set your underwear on fire, ensuring it only burned the fabric away and not your skin.

“Eris!” You yelled and pushed up the bed in shock.

“Hush, you’ll wake the baby, love,” he chuckled and used his magic to clear away the ash.

“You set my underwear on fire.” You hissed.

“I did. And I’m about to set that shirt aflame as well if you don’t let me take it off you.” He grinned.

“Fine. But if you can’t get it up, I am cutting your cock off and stuffing it down your throat. Then I’m murdering you.” You hissed and tugged up the nightshirt to pull it over your head.

“I love it when you're feisty.” He purred, his eyes immediately wandering down your body as you tossed the shirt off to the floor. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Start?”

You tried to cover yourself but he was not having it. He crawled over you, grabbing and pinning your arms by your head. He watched in real time your pupils dilate, your eyes going near black.

“I said I would show you how much I want you,” he leaned in and brushed his nose against your own. “So where do I start?”

For once he’d rendered you speechless. Good. He didn’t need you arguing with him when your opinions were clearly wrong. Especially when he let you go and sat up to look you over again. The mother truly blessed him by putting you in his path. He made sure to push that down the bond and smirked at your cheeks darkening.

“I know these are the babe’s favorites.” He whispered. He traced a finger around your breast. “It’s wrong of me to say this but I do enjoy it when you pull my hands up your top.”

“Eris,” you hissed.

“It’s true.” He grinned. “You get my warm hands pressed against your sore breasts and I get to hold you.” You blinked at that confession. “My mate, did you think I had nefarious reasons?”

“I thought you just liked to touch my breasts.”

He shrugged, “what is that phrase my brothers keep spewing when they cheat at cards? A win is in fact still a win?”

You rolled your eyes. He continued moving his finger down your sternum and traced around your stomach. You frowned.

“Despite how you feel, I do love how soft you are now.” His fingers moved around to your side and traced your hip. “And how wide your hips are now.”

“I don’t. I had to buy a whole new wardrobe. That was expensive.”

You then yelped and jolted as he moved over you, putting one leg between your thighs to wedge him apart.

“As if I care about the cost. These hips carried our baby.”

He leaned in and kissed the valley between your breasts. His left hand cupped your right breast when he kissed down your chest again. He could feel you relax under him and grinned against your stomach. He maneuvered himself so he could switch and cup your other one against his heated palm.

“I swear that’s all you're good for,” you teased, placing your hand on top of his. “Male hot stone.”

He slid down further and nipped his teeth at the skin above your belly button and he felt you tense again. He knew you hated how soft your stomach was and how the skin there was still recovering from being stretched to accommodate your child. He’d spend the rest of his life convincing you it was a blessing if he had to. Because it was.

“This beautiful belly of yours,” he kissed your stomach, “made our perfect babe. That was all you, my fire.”

“I know.” You didn’t sound convinced.

Eris knew it would take time. Even if he was impatient, he wouldn’t argue with you. He learned a long time ago that only made you stand firm in your thoughts. Instead he pressed more open mouth kisses along your stomach, pulling his hands away to loop his arms under your thighs. He didn’t miss the way you gasped or how your scent sweetened. He definitely didn’t miss the humming want you were pushing in through the bond. He rolled his hips into the bed like a fuckin youth just to relieve his own tension.

He wasted no more time, eager to get his mouth between your legs. He pulled your legs apart and peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs. You were still tense; something he had not encountered since the first time you were together. Despite your apprehension, you were still wet for him. He tried not to be smug as he put his mouth on you and your body relaxed in his hold.

He moaned as he licked up your center, your taste and smell overwhelming him in the best way. It was almost muscle memory, his tongue moving against your already swollen nub in a way that had you grabbing him by his hair. And by the cauldron, did he miss your hands in his hair.

Eris had planned to take his time. Take you apart slowly and remind you how much he loved you. Your body had other plans. You rolled your hips against his face, and he sucked and licked harder. He didn’t even get his fingers in you before you moaned and arched on the bed.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you came, panting and yanking his hair as he worked you through it. You had enough when you pulled him up.

He laughed. “That’s a record.”

“Is it?” You were still gasping.

“You really know how to stroke a male’s ego.” He sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should take breaks more often.”

“Insufferable.” You muttered.

“I’m about to be even more insufferable,” he said with a sly tone.

He made certain you were looking when he rolled his pants down, his length springing free and curving up on his stomach.

“Still doubt me?” He smirked and stroked himself.

You groaned. “Fine, I believe you.” Despite your tone you gave him a loving look. “Now hush and come fuck me.”

Eris kicked off his pants and crawled over you. There were no words exchanged as your legs fell open and he seemed to settle in place with ease. You gasped when he reached in between you both to guide himself into your slick heat. He groaned almost too loud when he bottomed out into you and stilled.

By The Mother he missed this. Being so close to you; being physically connected to you. The bond between you both tight, filled with love and passion. He laid there for a moment to savor it. He kissed you deeply and used his hand to bring your leg up farther on his waist.

He pulled away and leaned his forehead to yours. “I swear I’d put another baby in you right now if Edith wouldn’t kill me.”

“I think I would kill you.” Your tone was amused rather than annoyed, thankfully.

“And what sweet death it would be,” he muttered.

He kissed you again and propped himself up on one of his arms. The shift alone felt like lightning shooting up his spine. He realized at that moment he shouldn’t have laughed at you for coming apart so quickly. Eris groaned and cursed when he rocked his hips.

“Know how to stroke a female’s ego.” Your laughter faded into a moan; Eris thrusted into you a little harder.

You were both mostly silent after that. Eris’s mouth was preoccupied with kissing every inch of your face and chest he could reach. You were biting your lip when he wasn’t kissing you so you wouldn’t get vocal and wake the baby. He could feel you plateau through the bond, both of you just enjoying the feeling of being together in this way again.

He finally moved up and put your leg up over his shoulder to let him dive into you harder. You sighed and he felt your pleasure spike through the bond. He tried to not be smug about it. He reached his hand between you and rubbed his thumb gently in time with his thrusts. He grinned at how you mewled.

“Can you come for me again, love?” You nodded. He was close himself, his breathing haggard. “Will you do that for me? Come with me.”

It took a few moments before you arched off the bed again and flooded the bond with your pleasure. He groaned coming right behind you, but not stopping until you stopped pulsing around him. He dropped your leg and damn near collapsed on top of you.

Eris pushed himself off you with a groan, still catching his breath. “I think I need to start training again.”

“Overwork yourself?” You giggled “I think that’s just your age showing.”

Eris bit back a retort. After a moment he reluctantly moved off the bed and muttered he would get you a towel. Sleepiness was creeping into his bones while he cleaned himself off and wet a hand towel for you. He grabbed his pants off the floor where he tossed them and before he returned to bed, he peered into the nursery. Your babe was still fast asleep.

It seemed you were also sleepy when he crept up to the bed and saw your eyes closed. He made sure to heat the towel with his hand before maneuvering it between your legs and cleaning up the mess he made. You inhaled sharply but only blinked at him. He incinerated it once he was done.

“You’re so dramatic,” you grumbled at him.

“But you love me,” he said and leaned in and kissed you again before crawling into bed.

“That I do,” you muttered and scooted over to him so you could cuddle until you both fell asleep.

[dfortrafalgar]

Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader- Offscreen)

Sanji reaches out to Zeff for the first time in years.

I wrote this many, many months ago now, and it was the first fic i posted anonymously on AO3. I got a few requests after it was originally posted to write a second part, which I eventually did!

You can read Part 2 here! Original AO3 link

(I figured I should let my blog breathe a little in between the really heavy and emotional Law fic im writing, and what better way to cool down than some sanji fluff <3)

A sharp squawk awoke Red-Leg Zeff from his daze. With a grumpy expression and a low grunt, he peered towards the direction of the sound.

A messenger coo was seated on the railing of the Baratie's upper deck next to where Zeff stood slouched over with his forearms leaning against the wooden support. It cocked its head to the side as if it was deconstructing Zeff's appearance before reaching into its pouch and procuring a parchment envelope. Zeff found it strange. Messenger coos only usually delivered the newspapers or the latest bounty reports, very rarely were they put in charge of personalized letters. It must have been paid off by whoever wanted this delivered.

The gruff man took the parchment from the beak of the bird and watched as it took back off into the air, leaving a few molted white feathers behind in its wake. He looked at the envelope.

All it said on the front, in very elegant handwriting, was "Captain Zeff." He flipped the paper around, revealing a wax stamp holding the opening down, which he peeled off with a calloused thumb.

Tucked neatly inside the envelope was a white piece of paper, tri-folded over itself. Zeff slipped the paper out, unfolding it to reveal the written contents of the letter. The penmanship was impeccable, and the ink was very sleek. He knew immediately it was from Sanji, not many other pirates had handwriting as good as his. He had completely lost track of how many years it had been since the curly-browed boy left with that ragtag group of pirates to sail to the Grand Line, but Zeff had every single one of his bounty posters. He'd never admit it, but they were tacked up on the wall of his sleeping quarters. Every time Sanji's bounty increased, Zeff felt pride swell in his heart.

"How are you doing, you old geezer. It's been a little too long since we've had any contact, so I thought I'd write to you just to see how you've been. You're no slouch, I'm sure you've been keeping up with the world's events over the past however-many years. Do the Marines even bother to keep sending our bounty posters to the Baratie anymore? Well, regardless, I'm sure you can read right through me. I can't deny it, I miss you, old man. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and such a huge part of that is thanks to you and the guys back on that old cruiser. Every recipe I try to make, I imagine you screaming in my ear and telling me that it tastes like shit. Some days I really wish I could be back there, but most of the time I'm joyful. Life has been really, really good. A few years ago, I met someone. Last year, we got married, and soon after our lives changed so drastically. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and she's as sweet as an angel. I mean it, too. I know you'd probably think something along the lines of me playing up my affections again just because she's a pretty woman, but I mean it. You'd love her, Zeff. Living as a pirate is the most stressful thing anyone could ever do, but she makes every day worth it. The crew was discussing the possibility of returning to the East Blue a bit ago, and when we do, I'm going to introduce you to her. I've spent the last years talking all about you, how you taught me everything I know about cooking, and I can tell she's just as excited as I am to finally see you. This letter's gone on long enough and I don't want to use up all of Nami's paper.

-- Sanji"

Zeff felt a lump in the back of his throat. Sanji had grown into such a fine young man, eloquent with his words and his feelings. He knew how big of a deal it was for the boy to be so honest and open. But one thing in the letter caught him off guard. What did he mean by, "Soon after our lives changed drastically."?

Zeff peered into the envelope, where another, smaller envelope was tucked inside. He almost didn't see it. Pulling it out, he held the letter and original envelope in between his fingers while he opened the second. Sanji was thorough with his packaging, that's for sure.

Inside, there were three photographs printed on thin, matted paper. The first was of Sanji and you, the wife he wrote about in his letter, taken by someone else holding the camera. Sanji had his arm around you, holding you against him, and you had your face nuzzled into his neck. His other hand held a cigarette away from the two of you, like he was in the middle of telling a story. The two of you were smiling brighter than the sun, Sanji's eyes completely closed with the motion of laughter, and yours creased, your irises looking up towards him.

The second photo made Zeff's eyes water. A photo of you and Sanji on the deck of the Sunny, exchanging rings. Sanji was wearing a sleek navy blue tuxedo, while you were wearing a gorgeous white ballgown. For pirates, you cleaned up phenomenally. He could just make out tears in Sanji's eyes as the photo displayed you sliding a band onto his finger. A skeleton with poofy hair stood between the two of you, which Zeff found a little odd, but he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Zeff flipped to the last photo.

The tears that were welling in his eyes from the previous image finally slid down his cheeks in heavy, salty droplets. His lip quivered.

Sanji sat in a chair, beaming down at a bundle of cloth held gently in his arm. He was crying in this photo as well, and was reaching a finger over the top of the bundle, where a smaller hand was reaching outwards to grab onto it. A small glimpse of blonde hair could be made out from under the cloth securing the baby tightly. On the back of the film, Sanji wrote the birth date and the name of the baby.

Zeff used a sleeve to wipe his blubbering eyes. His lips quivered, but he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

Was he allowed to call himself a grandfather now? He figured it was only appropriate.

[cirtusmistress]

Hurricane

Authors Note: I wrote this about two years ago and posted it to AO3, and never cross-posted it to Tumblr. But given I want to get back into writing, I may as well start by posting what I got! So enjoy my first fic, two years late.

Ship ~ Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader

Tags ~ Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Reader is Competent, Storm prep, Brahms is Scared of Storms, Touch-Starved Brahms Heelshire, Reader Replaces Greta Evans, Minor Injuries, Doll Brahms Heelshire, One Shot, Gender-Neutral Pronouns

AO3 Crosspost

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“A storm? Like, a thunderstorm? Or is it worse?” You asked. You’d been working for the Heelshire’s for around two months now. And though they’d left you with very detailed instructions on how to care for their beloved son, they had never brought up things such as house care. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on staying this long. Not into Autumn.

“A full on hurricane.” Malcolm answered, setting the last of the grocery bags down. He continued, “The worst one we’ve had in years apparently. They’re predicting outages and downed trees. I can help you secure the windows and doors if you’d like?” He offered. A sweet gesture. An olive branch of friendship. But you knew better than to take it.

During your short time at the Heelshire estate, and caring for Brahms, you’d learned a great many things. The most crucial being that whenever someone stayed around too long and stole your attention away from the doll you cared for, there was hell to pay. In one instance you found the dining room in complete disarray after simply inviting Malcolm in for tea, during a rare social moment for you. The worst case was when a friend of yours stopped by. They were a globetrotter, and seeing as you already had residence found it simpler to just stay with you. A mistake. One night was enough to send Brahms into the worst tantrum you’d ever seen. Multiple rooms destroyed, a window had been broken, and he had stolen your friend's passport. Your friendship didn’t last long after that. After all, who was to believe that a doll could cause so much harm?

“Thank you, Malcolm, but I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with a few storms in my life, I’ll manage.” You replied. Malcolm studied you for a moment. Likely trying to read you, sniff out any signs of dishonesty. But, there were none. Just that warm smile that could melt anyone's heart. He gave a sigh of defeat and nodded.

“If you say so. Just give me a call if you need anything. I’ll come check on you when the hurricane passes.” With that he gave you a wave and headed back to his truck. You muttered a soft thanks, finally returning to your chores.

Brahms sat in the kitchen where he’d been waiting. Like he was listening to your conversation. You’d grown used to this odd job of yours. Caring for a doll as if it were human. Though you’d always figured there was more to this situation then most believed. You’d heard of people using dolls to cope with loss, the concept wasn’t lost on you. But for a couple well into their later years? And there were just.. Too many small things. Even in the rules. Playing music loud, reading in a loud clear voice, leaving food in the freezer. Food which you knew was going missing.

But the biggest tell was an accident. It had been about a month into the job. You’d actually begun to believe Brahms was a child's spirit trapped in the doll. What with him moving around on his own, and leaving you little offerings, and once saying your goddamn name when he was upset. But then, just by accident as you were putting Brahms to bed, you hit your foot against the wall. It had hurt so badly you thought you’d broken a toe. But what stood out in your mind even now was the sound the wall made. It didn’t make the thud you knew from stubbing your toe time and time again in youth. The wall sounded hollow. There had been an echo. Now you knew some older houses had hollow walls. Normally the cavities between the two layers were used for insulation. But that echo.. That wasn’t a normal hollow wall.

After that you’d started paying closer attention to the house and Brahms as you went about your day. Watching and listening. Countless nights where you’d lay in bed and just listen. You’d hear shuffling, the rare footstep like someone had stumbled. Once you swore you heard breathing. You noticed how many rooms had large paintings or cabinets, your size or larger. For a while you thought you were going mad. There was no way in hell that an elderly couple had been keeping their son in the walls for twenty years. But then you learned of the Heelshire’s deaths. Suicides. So many things pointing to something you didn’t quite know how to feel about. On one hand, you were now basically the sole guardian of a doll who was actually a stand-in for the hypothetical twenty-eight year old man in the walls. On the other, Brahms was now completely alone after twenty years of isolation. Alone, save for you. Sweet, kind, loving you who treated a porcelain doll like a real boy. Who read to him every night and tucked him in with a kiss. You couldn’t just leave him. No matter what Brahms was.

“We’re in for a storm, Brahms. I guess that means we’re having a slumber party downstairs tonight.” You cortled, putting the last of the groceries away. You took note of how little perishables Malcolm had dropped off. Thinking ahead. You wouldn’t be able to cook for however long the power was gone, if it did go that was.

You turned back to the doll, scooping him up and taking him with you. You figured the downstairs office would be the safest place. The windows were relatively small and were less likely to break. It would do for your purposes. You sat Brahms in the corner and got to work moving the desk out of the way. You’d have to lay down blankets and things to sleep on. You doubted the old fashioned Heelshire’s were going to have something like an air mattress.

You spent a good hour doing basic storm prep. Dragging some old blankets and comforters out of wardrobes and laying them down on the floor. Filling up buckets and the tubs with water. Getting crossword puzzles and cards. By the time that was all done, it had begun to rain outside. The calm before the storm you supposed. The last thing on your storm checklist was lanterns. This was an old house, you were certain that the Heelshire’s would have oil lamps somewhere. Naturally the first place you wanted to check was the attic.. But you knew better. After all, if your theory was right you didn’t want to scare the poor man by invading his space. So you settled on checking the cellar first.

Only issue was, you really couldn’t bring Brahms. You knew he was never meant to be alone but taking a fragile doll into a dark cellar was too risky. He’d have to stay upstairs. You were hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.

“Brahms, I’m headed to the cellar. I’ll be quick, I promise.” You hummed. With that, you headed down alone. You had been right, it was dark and musty and damp. You started to wonder if there was mold down here. You flicked on the old dingy light which surprisingly still worked. You began digging through the clutter. Old things like furniture, clothes never worn since the sixties, even some art pieces. It was like a time capsule. You didn’t have time to walk through history though, you needed to find anything that could give light without the use of electricity. Lower and lower you went through the piles, until finally you found something. A pair of old oil lamps and a small can of oil to go with it. You muttered a soft thanks, pulling them out from beneath wicker chairs. But what was behind them gave you pause.

The bricks were singed. Dark burn marks that showed age. Your eyes followed the marks. The furniture in here had covered them, but now they were exposed after your rummaging. They flowed over the bricks going upwards. They almost looked beautiful. But that beauty hid a tragedy that plagued this home. You knew why they’d been hidden with so much clutter.

Your thoughts were interrupted when something crashed behind you, making you scream and jump. When you turned you saw one of the mirrored vanities stored away had been smashed. The mirror shards now littered the floor. And on the steps sat the Brahms doll, staring you down. It took you a moment to catch your breath, realizing your error. Brahms didn’t want you uncovering his painful memories. And he’d made sure you knew that. Gathering yourself, you pushed the lamps aside and began to put all that you’d moved back into its place. Covering those painful memories back up, letting them remain hidden and forgotten. Once finished you picked the lamps and the can up and approached Brahms. Kneeling to his height you gave an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry Brahms,” you spoke with such a genuine tone of sincerity, “I shouldn’t have snooped around. But look! I found the lamps we’ll need!” You held up the lamps, jostling them a little so they clinked together. Of course the doll remained frozen. But just faintly, almost missable under the sound of rain pouring down, you heard panting. Like someone coming down from a rage.

“I’ll clean up the shards, then we’ll head back upstairs, okay?” You’d started speaking to Brahms out loud more after you’d learned about the walls. Feeding your own delusions some would say. You held your word, starting to pick up the larger shards and resting them on top of the vanity. The smaller ones you just brushed away with some loose fabric you found. You didn’t really plan on coming back down here anyways, not after that outburst.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always found time moves slower when there was a storm. The day seemed to drag on as the storm became worse and worse. The wind had picked up and those raindrops just kept getting larger. It was loud, even on the bottom floor. You had settled on just simple sandwiches for dinner, making sure to put a ‘spare’ in the freezer. And after that you’d just settled in to do a crossword. It was.. Probably the first time in weeks where you felt safe. There was something about the dim lighting and blankets that just felt right. Secure. Warm. Brahms sat under the covers and you’d even given him a crossword book of his own. Slightly cruel, knowing he couldn’t move with you there with him. But at least you’d been talking to him. Funny, you always struggled talking with real people. But this doll turned you into a chatterbox. Maybe it was the simple fact no one was attempting to speak over you. Like someone was actually listening.

Your tranquility was disrupted by a large gust of wind, followed by a crash that made the manor shake. And what sounded like a scream. It had come from upstairs. Something inside you just knew. That crash was in the attic. You were running upstairs before you even had time to think. Up the stairs, and finding the attic ladder down. You were unsure if it had come undone itself or if someone had moved it. That didn’t matter as you climbed up. It was your first time in the attic but you didn’t get a chance to explore. A branch had flown off a tree and crashed through the wall, opening it up to the elements. You could only act, no time for clear thoughts. You grabbed a nearby blanket and started to desperately try to cover the hole, but another gale blew you back. There was nothing you could do to patch it right now, not unless you wanted to risk injury or worse, death.

Your rattled mind returned to the scream you had heard. Or at least you thought you had heard. Looking around you didn’t see a body but there was a bed up here. A tv, a sink.. Someone was living here. You didn’t have time to celebrate your theory being proven. Where was Brahms? Your eyes flitted around, finally landing back on the ladder. Somehow you had missed the very clear bloody handprint on it during your panic. But if Brahms was bleeding.. Oh God, how badly was he injured? Quickly you descended the steps, trying to find any sign of him. You were too panicked to even fear this man who was hiding from you for so long. All you knew somewhere in this house he was hurt and bleeding.

“Brahms?” You called, starting to check every room. Could he have climbed back into the walls? Fearing you discovering him? You checked everything on the top floor and worked down, calling his name in a more desperate tone with each exclamation. But finally you found him. Turning the corner back into the downstairs study. There he sat, in place of the doll. It wasn’t what you expected to see. The mask was shocking at first glance. You were momentarily stun locked. He was bigger than you anticipated, even sitting down. Finally you snapped out of it when he looked at you, and held out his bleeding hand. It had a sizable gash across the palm.

“It hurts,” He spoke in a child-like voice. The voice you’d heard months ago. His head drooped a touch as he spoke, “Can you fix it?” He asked. Finally, after another beat, you nodded. Your mouth felt dry. Too dry to speak. In the kitchen you found the first aid, and took it back with you. He hadn’t moved from his place on the makeshift bed. You knelt beside him, and carefully took his hand in yours. Up close you could see the burn scars that ran along his entire right side. Suddenly his outburst in the cellar made much more sense.. Carefully you applied some rubbing alcohol to the cut. That made Brahms whimper and pull his hand back. The look in his eyes behind that mask was murderous.

“I’m sorry, Brahms, but I have to.. To clean it.” You choke out. Your mouth is still far too dry. You hold your hand out for his again, giving him those warm eyes again. He would trust you wouldn’t he? After all, you had been the one to care for him all this time. He looked at your hand, then back to your face. For a moment Brahms almost seemed entranced by your eyes before conceding and resting his hand back in yours.

“Good boy..” You said, starting to clean the wound. He made a noise akin to that of a moan at your praise. You supposed you were the first person to touch him or give him praise in years. He was likely touch starved. Once the cut was clean, you grabbed the bandages and began to wrap his hand. He kept watching you. His breath was heavy behind that mask.

Finally you were done, and you let his hand go. Brahms examined your work, how carefully you’d wrapped him, and the cute little bow you’d tied it off with. As he studied his hand, you studied him. Despite the childish voice he put on, he was very much an adult. You could see his beard poking out from beneath the porcelain. He was actually rather handsome, you’d admit. The rain picked up again, and the lights began flickering. Brahms jumped and quickly moved closer to you. Before you knew it his head was hiding in your lap. Apparently he was afraid of the storm. Made sense, it had attacked him after all. Carefully you began to stroke his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“We’ll be okay. Just a little wind and rain, that’s all. Maybe we can play cards? Or I can tell you a story?” You offered. Just trying to find anything to distract him from the weather outside damaging his home. Slowly he nodded, not lifting his head from your waist. Actually his grip seemed to grow tighter. You could feel him inhaling a little too deeply, and his hands started to squeeze your thighs as he held tight. You felt bad thinking how unsurprised that made you. But he had lived in the walls for twenty years.. And you were likely the first person he’d had stick around.

You settled back on to the makeshift mattress, Brahms never letting you go. He shuffled up a bit, so his face was resting against your chest. You kept stroking his hair, picking your brain for a story to tell. Something romantic as you had a wild feeling that was right up his alley. You recounted the story of Pride and Prejudice, not skipping any details of the classic story. Brahms seemed all too enthralled by the tale. He even began to kick his feet in the air when you recounted the climax between Elizabeth and the beloved Mr.Darcy. Just before you could finish though, the lights finally gave out. Brahms tensed up against you and again hugged you tight against him. You let out a wheeze. You needed to get the lamps but he seemed content just smothering you until the lights came back themselves. Finally you managed to sit up as he continued to cling like a baby koala.

“Brahms, sweetheart, I need to light the lamps.” You manage to get out. But that seems to make his grip tighter. He shakes his head, face pulling your shirt back and forth.

“No. No lamps. I don’t want any fire in the house.” He whimpered. Your heart broke a little. That night seemed to have never left Brahms.. You stroked his back soothingly before trailing your hands to cup his cheeks.

“Brahms, we need light. It’ll be okay, I can work an oil lamp-” You were cut off as Brahms slammed you back down against the floor. Even with the cushioning it knocked the air from your lungs. Your hands fell from his face beside yourself as his own gripped your shoulders.

“No fire in the house. Never again.” His voice was no longer that high falsetto. Instead it was deep, aggressive. He sounded his age. You gasped for air, before nodding. Tears had pricked your eyes. You felt a twinge of guilt as you questioned whether or not he’d hurt you.

Finally you found your voice again, “Okay Brahms. No lamps, I promise. Do you want another story?” You asked in a feeble attempt to calm him back down. Lucky for you it seemed to work. Brahms grip on your shoulders loosened, and he returned his head to your chest. He nodded and urged you on to tell your story.

A shaky sigh escaped you. You thanked your lucky stars that you could calm him so easily. As you began telling another story, the rain and wind outside crashed into the manor. You knew Brahms would never harm you. Not you. Not his caretaker. But you began to wonder. How long would this storm last? Suddenly, in the dark, the room no longer felt secure.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making a YouTuber feel uncomfortable? 

Here me out please, before you all make assumptions. 

A couple months ago, I(19F) began following a YouTuber that I quickly began to love. I won’t be saying the YouTuber’s name for the sake of protecting their privacy, obviously. I started to watch their videos(which were mainly about a story that she came up with, featuring her ocs) and enjoyed them all, enjoyed the ocs, too. This YouTuber is a relatively unpopular one, but not so unpopular that they’re obscure or completely unheard of, they’re just not one of the big names in the YouTuber community. I made a few amazing friends due to us being in the same fandom and both enjoying this YouTuber’s content. One day, I decided to write a fanfic for this person’s story featuring her ocs. I uploaded the fic to AO3 and made sure to credit the YouTuber with creating these amazing ocs. I then showed it to my few friends, who all loved the fanfic. However, one day I made the mistake of showing the fic to a mutual friend(now an ex-friend but that’s a topic for another discussion) that me and the YT both share, and she sent the fanfic to the YT without my permission. Now before y’all get up in arms, I didn’t mind at all that she had sent it to the YT, in fact, I actually wanted the YT to see. However I really wish that she had asked me first, because I would have been more than happy to show it to them! Unfortunately, a few days after I sent it to her, my other friend(let’s call her M) showed me an announcement the YT made on her Discord, in which she complained about people writing fanfictions of her ocs and “using” them in her stories without her permission. She also stated that she felt like she was losing control of her story when other people wrote fanfics of it, and that whoever wrote the fanfiction “didn’t understand boundaries”(even though she didn’t have this boundary before and also wrote in the announcement that she used to be okay with fanfics of her work, but now no longer is). I deleted the fanfic the moment I saw the post from my friend, but I was a bit disappointed since I never meant to make her feel uncomfortable and only wanted to show my love and appreciation for her story, and possibly get more people to check out her story as well. Still, I deleted the fanfic from AO3. 

Now, here’s where things get interesting. A while later, I joined the YouTuber’s Discord server, where I met many people that I got along quite well with and quickly befriended. I often engaged in conversations with them about the story, and often drew fanart of my favorite character and posted it to the art channel in the server(she’s okay with fanart of her ocs, just not fanfics). Now is probably a good time to mention that while I was in the Discord server(and even before that) I often talked about the story with my friend on Tumblr(not M, these are two separate friends) who did not have Discord but loved the story just as much as I did. We often talked about the story and how much we enjoyed it, and often came up with jokes and headcanons, basic stuff like that, that any fan would do. Anyway, back to the Discord, one of the rules of the server was not to be disrespectful or rude or malicious towards other people, and another was that if you received two warnings about your behavior in the server then you would be quickly banned from the server and no longer allowed to come back. I understood this and tried to conduct myself to the best of my ability. However, one day, I found myself mysteriously unable to access the server, and when I tried to rejoin, I was again unable to. I found out that the reason I couldn’t access the server was because I had been banned due to “disrespectful behavior”, “engaging in arguments”, and making the YouTuber(who ran the server) uncomfortable. I was confused, because I genuinely don’t remember ever engaging in rude behavior with anyone. The few instances(according to them) in which I had been allegedly rude or disrespectful to people were both genuine misunderstandings, and both times I had apologized for them and did not repeat the behavior. I also did not receive any form of warning before being banned, despite one of the rules being that you will receive two warnings before being banned from the server. Still, I apologized for my alleged hostility and asked if I could come back, however the YouTuber said no, and went on to add that not only was I rude to people in the server(which, again, were both genuine misunderstandings), but that she had seen my Tumblr conversations with my friends in which I talked about her story, and said that she was “wildly uncomfortable” with how “obsessive” I was with it as well as my favorite character in the story. This bewildered me to no end because the YouTuber did not have Tumblr and had never once ever mentioned being on or having access to Tumblr, so I did not expect her to see my posts(and even if she did, I did not expect to get banned for them as they do not violate the rules of the server). It made me wonder why she didn’t just talk to me and explain to me that she was uncomfortable with me posting about her work instead of just banning me altogether and not giving me a chance to defend myself. I ended up sadly and reluctantly deleting all of my posts relating to her story, and requesting my friend to do the same. I told M about this scenario, and she was enraged on my behalf, saying that the YouTuber probably was actually upset about my having written a fanfic for her ocs, and said that she didn’t understand me being called obsessive because I acted like a normal fan would(which I agree with). Some of my other friends have sided with me as well and told me that the YouTuber was acting petty, however some of my friends have taken a middle ground. None of them entirely condemned me, but that may just be because they are biased and don’t want to hurt my feelings. The mutual friend/now ex-friend(of course) merely told me to “self-reflect” and move on from the story. Regardless, the YouTuber now has me blocked, not just on Discord, but on Instagram as well, where I also reside. 

Reasons why I think I might be the asshole: I will admit that I have a tendency to really hyperfixate on things and get especially attached to fictional characters that I adore and resonate with, so I can see why that would make them uncomfortable. That being said… 

Reasons why I think I might not be the asshole: I genuinely wasn’t trying to make this wonderful YouTuber feel uncomfortable or be “obsessive” with the story. I merely wanted to show my appreciation for it in a way that I thought was normal for online fans, which included writing a fanfic, drawing fanart, and geeking out about the story with my friends(admittedly publicly). I had no idea that these actions would turn the YouTuber off, and merely wanted to show how much I enjoyed the story. I also was never rude to anyone in the server and apologized whenever a misunderstanding rose up. I never tried to be aggressive with anyone or cursed anybody out or tried to have arguments with people, so I have no idea where that came from. 

So, what say ye, oh wise people of Tumblr? Am I the asshole or not?

What are these acronyms?

[novacorpsrecruit]

Hi a quick lil read: I did a poll the other day because I was thinking of creating Steddie fic recs and so I decided I’m gonna do 5-10 fic recs a post based on some sort of theme and here’s the first installment! Please feel free to ask for themes, I can’t promise I’ll fulfill them but I’ll do my best.

Theme: my favorite fucking idiots

single / taken / pining by 96tears (Ao3) @pizzaqueen (tumblr)

T | wc 4,435 | no cw

Summary: When a girl Steve’s trying to flirt with starts flirting with Eddie, Steve says the only thing that comes to mind: he tells her Eddie’s married. It’s not his smoothest moment, but it works, and Eddie goes along with it. It's not like Eddie was interested, anyway, and he figures Steve wanted the ladies to himself. So, Steve figures that must be it, too.

But a little later it hits him: he doesn’t want to keep the ladies to himself. He wants to keep Eddie to himself.

Ugh!!! I love it when the dumbasses don’t understand why they’re jealous, or that they’re jealous in the first place. Post season 4, Steve and Eddie work at Family Video and the Arcade respectfully, and come and bug each other during slow times. Steve gets a little jealous when a girl starts hitting on Eddie.

‘cause tramps like us, baby, we were born to run by stellapoint (pettifogger) (ao3) @heybluechild (tumblr)

T | wc 9,308 | no cw

Summary: Realization #1: Steve is wearing a costume. He’s dressed as Springsteen on the cover of Born In The U.S.A. The album cover is staring at Eddie from the stack of records by the speakers, and he flicks his eyes between the cover and Steve, almost laughing at how obvious the resemblance is.

Immediately after that, revelations two and three slam into him like an eighteen-wheeler.

#2: Bruce Springsteen is kind of hot.

#3: Steve Harrington is really hot.

A fourth and much louder thought echoes through Eddie’s brain: oh, shit.

(Many months ago, I wrote a tumblr post about Steve Harrington being a Bruce Springsteen enjoyer. This fic is about that.)

Takes place after season 4, Eddie and Steve are friend. Eddie’s love language is music. He’s a bit of a music snob, and doesn’t understand why Steve wants him to like his music. It takes a moment for it to click to Eddie what’s really going on. I love Eddie but sometimes you want to shake him like a snowglobe and oh my god, I’m shaking him so hard.

wasted crying by MixAddams (Ao3) @mixsethaddams (tumblr)

T | wc 6,471 | cw ow (light angst)

Summary: Steve just wants a buddy.

So why does it hurt so much when Eddie introduces everyone to his new girlfriend?

There’s a happy ending I swear! You’ll just want to bundle Steve up in a few blankets first. Post season 4, Eddie gets a girlfriend, and Steve is not jealous. Not at all. He just … misses being in the honeymoon phase of dating? No that can’t be right… is it? There’s a lot of good heartaches in this fic. I do want to share one of my favorite lines:

“I think so. Stuff like this is supposed to scare you, I think,” said Eddie. “It’s supposed to feel….”

Eddie took a breath and Steve watched his eyes move around as he searched for the words. Steve thought he might wait forever for him to find them.

“It’s supposed to feel like a leap, right?”

I can be pretty (why don’t you think I’m pretty?) by starsdontsleep (ao3)

T | wc 8,942 | no cw

Summary: When Eddie comes out as gay, he assures Steve that he doesn’t find him hot. Steve tells him it’s fine, he even teasingly asks what he should do to change that. It becomes a thing. A way to always make Eddie laugh, blush and relax around him—but as the days and weeks pass, Steve begins to realise that maybe there’s another reason why he cares so much that Eddie Munson finds him pretty.

Remember when I said I’m shaking Eddie like a snowglobe? I’m shaking Steve now. Steve, please tell me why you think you want Eddie to think you’re pretty? Why do you need to know what Eddie’s type? Steve’s only worried that Eddie doesn’t fully trust him with his sexuality. So Steve works to be the best ally… and definitely does not fall in love with his friend along the way.

clown music at the disco by fragilecapricorn (ao3) @fragilecapric0rnn (tumblr)

M | wc 3,717 | no cw

Summary: “What the fuck are you doing here?” He nearly squawked, meaning for it to come out anyway other than that. The man turned around, and here he was. In a stare down with ghostly pale Steve Harrington, who was not only supposed to be straight, but was also in a MESH TANK TOP at Frankie’s on a Wednesday night.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He pauses, glancing around the room, small voice. “It’s disco night.”

Post Season 4, Eddie, Robin and Steve move to the Chicago. Eddie has a new habit of going to the bar on gay disco night, finding another brunette ex-jock to fill the Steve shaped hole in his heart. Until he runs into said brunette ex-jock at the same gay bar on disco night. 10/10 no notes I’ve read this like 5 times.

of all the gin joints by genesisofrhythm (Ao3)

e | wc 4,016 | cw: they fuck | spice level: I read this at my work desk in between meetings

Summary: “So, do you come here often?”

Steve choked at the familiar voice, turning abruptly. “Munson?”

“What’re you doing here?” Eddie asked, his mouth gaping open as he looked over at Steve.

Steve was surprised to see Eddie here as well. What were the odds of them both driving out of Hawkins to come to the same gay bar?

Or: Steve goes to a gay bar to support Robin, when he sees Eddie Munson. He can't tell Eddie the real reason he's there without outing Robin so he tells him he's bisexual. But Steve's totally straight... right?

Steve [Evan Buckley voice]: “I’m an ally ✊”

This is a fun fic, definitely Steve Harrington speed running a sexuality crisis. Good for him. (also I have a soft spot for fics that use fob lyrics as a title, forehead kisses for that)

Exactly What It Looks Like - BilbosMom (Ao3) @bilbosmom-belladonna (tumblr)

E | wc 31,517 | cw | spice level: I should not have read this at my desk 😳🥵

Summary: Steve makes a face at Eddie. “You've imagined doing stuff with a guy?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie replies, spreading his hands wide. “Doesn't everyone?”

Steve tilts his head to the side as he thinks. Maybe not very often, but his freshman year when Davey Riggs had been swim team captain? Yeah, he had definitely imagined some stuff that had made trips to the locker room kinda awkward.

“Yeah, that's true,” Steve answers, nodding. “I wonder why everybody acts like it's so gross, though.”

In the summer of 1986, Steve and Eddie have some perfectly normal fun between a couple of perfectly normal dudes.

I’m honestly insane over this. Like, I’m going to be thinking about this for a long time. Post-Season 4, Eddie and Steve find themselves watching porn together. And it’s not weird at all if you jerk off next to your new best friend. And maybe it becomes a habit. And helping them out every once in a while isn’t weird. And maybe sucking his cock isn’t weird. Or fucking his thighs —

Please remember to leave kudos and comments on the fics you read/enjoyed! Support your writers 🖤

[call-me-strega]

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: ch.3/5 of p.2

First, prev, next, lore, ao3

OK SO- I’ve been working on this for months and I was actually supposed to have it done like a month ago but my parents took me on the last minute vacation to another country to visit family and I didn’t have access to my laptop most of the time. But it’s okay bc the timing worked out! I wrote most of this on my phone actually and I’m posting it from there too so I hope the formatting isn’t weird. Our flight back is tonight and we’re in a different time zone so I really hope this is going up at the correct time. Anyways I tried to make this chapter longer so I hope it’s worth it. Thanks for sticking around to read this and I’ll let you start now.

-Strega p.s Happy 4th of July!

~~~

Chapter description:

Danny and Jason comfort each other after a rough night, Jason teams up with Duke to stop a villain, and Jason spends the 4th of July with the Nightingales.

~~~

Everything was hot. Someone was laughing. Someone was crying. It's all too loud but he can't hear a thing. It was so hot. He could taste the bitterness in the air. His face ached. It's too much. All the textures overwhelm him but he can’t feel a thing. It was too hot. All he can see is rows of black upon gray, but he can't really see anything at all. He couldn’t- he couldn’t breathe. His forehead was wet and sticky. Why was it wet and sticky? Why was it so goddamn hot?!

With a desperate gasp for air, Jason launched up into a sitting position on his bed. He supported his body with one hand and the other pushing back his white, sweat-soaked fringes out of his eyes. He sat there for a few moments, just panting, trying to regain some semblance of control over his breathing. He felt a warm sweat drip down his face and back. It made his skin crawl.

He looked around his dark room and then down at his messy sheets for a moment, before pulling off the blanket and flinging himself off the bed. He couldn't stand the idea of staying there a minute longer. Not right now.

He stalked out of his bedroom and into his living area. He didn't want to stay inside. The thought of being in an enclosed space right now gave him the hives, no matter how spacious the apartment might be. Even if it's bigger than a coffin. Even if it's smaller than a warehouse. He can't see the sky. He's closed in.

Instead, he pushes open his window and pulls himself out onto the fire escape. It's not particularly open, facing into an alley, but it offers privacy and is heaps better than being inside. He slumps down against the brick wall of the building, feet planted and knees bent. He looks up and takes a breath trying to calm himself. Even with all the smog and Gotham's perpetual cloud cover, Jason is grateful to see the sky. He half-wished it was a clear night so he could see the stars. The other half didn't. It didn't think he could handle seeing the stars peeking out through the smog. It would look too much like a night sky tainted with smoke and bad memories.

His mouth felt dry as he clenched and stretched his hands. He almost wished for a cigarette or a joint, (no he didn't, he didn't want to see the smoke, to feel the heat of the slow burn) but the thought made his lungs constrict and he felt bile rise in his throat. Instead, he alternated between closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths, and gazing at the lights and laundry lines. Even in the sticky city heat of a Gotham summer Jason shuddered from the cool night air.

Suddenly, he heard metal creaking and his eyes snapped open. His head jerked to the side where the sound had come from. A few feet away, on the adjacent fire escape, stood a figure slumped over the rail. They must have also sensed his presence because they turned to meet Jason's gaze.

Before him stood a haggard Danny Nightingale with dark circles under his eyes and a head of bed hair. He wore an old worn-out shirt for a band called Dumpty Humpty, and a pair of basketball shorts that came down to his knees. Faintly, Jason could make out a faded scar on his calf. (Not that Jason had been staring at his legs or anything!) Jason soon became aware of Danny's own eyes assessing him as well. He felt his face heat up and was grateful that he slept in sweats and a white tank tonight.

And the two of them stayed there for a while, on their fire escapes. Two souls in the haunted hours before morning, looking worse for wear, just staring at each other as the world continued on around them.

Then, Danny weakly gave Jason a wry grin and in a rough voice he said,

" Hey, neighbor."

" Hey," Jason replied hoarsely, with a small grin forming on his face. "Funny running into you here, huh?"

There was a brief pause where the two continued to stare at each other, suppressing the quickly growing urge to laugh.

Danny broke first.

" Pffffffft, you dork!"

The two of them burst out laughing and the atmosphere grew lighter. The ever-present smog and darkness seemed to lift and the shadows haunting them seemed to fade.

Danny bubbled up with giggles that rang in Jason’s ear like a familiar song coming on on the radio. Jason looked at him softly in quiet wonderment. Well, I guess that’s where Ellie got her laugh from.

Jason heaved himself off the ground and walked over to the railing closest to Danny, who was just coming down from his high. He leaned over, one arm on the railing and the other coming up to support his jaw. He gave Danny a tired smile.

“Hey,” he said once more.

“Hey yourself,” came Danny’s soft reply.

Then the two, now standing closer, took a moment to examine each other once more. Danny took note of Jason’s sweat and unsteadiness. Jason could now see that Danny’s hands shook lightly and were covered in faded, barely-there scars. They met each other’s eyes and both just felt like the other understood.

Tonight hadn’t been a good night for either of them. But they didn’t need to talk about it right now. No, for now the two could just bask in each others presence The air filling with a certain solidarity and what felt like a near-tangible sense of mutual comfort.

Jason turned away first, observing the way light and shadow danced across alley walls and how the clothes on clotheslines fluttered in the night breeze. Danny followed his gaze in suit, trying to identify what Jason saw out in the city.

“ Ya know for being such a hell-hole Gotham really does have a subtle beauty to it.”

Jason turned to look a Danny with mock offense.

“Hey! Gotham may be a hell-hole but it’s our hell-hole! Just ask any true Gothamite, the city has a way sinking itself into ya.”

Danny looked almost amused by this statement, but nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, I think I kinda get it. It really sucked back home, but it was still home, ya know? And I agree, Gotham does have her ways of making you feel like she’s a part of you. We’ve only been here bout a month or so but I already feel like Ell and I are well on our way to become city slickers through and through.”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head and bringing his arm down to stand up straight. He decide to pursue the opening Danny had left.

“Speaking of Ell, she the reason your up so late?”

“Naw,” Danny’s smile grew a bit strained. “My little spitfire may have a lotta energy but the girl sleeps like the dead.” He grew a more subdued, looking down at his hands.

“Nah, this was something else.”

“Nightmare?” He probed gently.

Danny nodded.

Taking a breath, Jason said “Me too,” in a show of vulnerability that he found came surprisingly easy. Danny glanced at him sympathetically.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Kinda, but at the same time not really?”

Danny nodded as if he understood perfectly. Once more a comfortable silence overtook they began to shift closer. Even with the space between their fire escapes they felt impossibly close.

Danny interrupted the quiet with a light chuckle and Jason returned him a questioning glance. Danny shook his head,

“ Nothing I just think it’s kinda ironic we both came out to our fire escapes to escape our bad dreams.” He paused as his face clouded with confusion. “ Or at least I think it’s irony? Would you call it irony?”

“I think it might actually be symbolism but fuck if I know. I don’t have the mental capacity to figure which literary devices apply to our situation right now but remind me to come back to it later.”

Danny hummed in amusement before taking a deep breath.

“ I think I wanna talk about it.”

“Hmm?” Jason raised an eyebrow

“ I think I wanna talk about my dream.”

In a split second Jason makes a impulsive decision.

“Hold on,” he says, before climbing over the railing and extending his foot over to reach Danny’s fire escape.

“ What are you doing, ya maniac?!” Danny asked incredulously at Jason’s actions.

Jason stepped over onto the fire escape and shrugged as he walked over to Danny, “This felt like something I should be close for.”

The startled man seemed to loosen up and sunk to sit on the platform with his back to the railing. Jason joined him on the floor. They sat shoulder to shoulder, Danny staring at his trembling hand, and Jason, staring at him. Jason hand crept towards Danny’s, gentle taking it and interlacing the fingers.

Danny’s head swiveled to look at him and Jason returned him a gentle look and a squeezed his hand reassuringly. Faintly, the young man smiled and squeezed back. He took a deep breath and began.

" So you remember how you found my groceries in an alley the other day?”

Jason nodded.

“ Yeah well, the reason I left them there was because some mugger tried to kidnap Ellie. I ditched the groceries to grab her and get home.”

“ You did a smart thing,” Jason continued to nod as if he didn’t already know exactly what happened that day.

“ Mm I don’t doubt that, Ellie’s safety will always be my first priority. But the whole thing kinda brought up old fear. Some old … memories.”

A distant look grew on his face and Jason’s heart burned with sadness and anger for his friend.

“ The dream started out back in that alley. I had just pulled Ellie back into my arms but when I turned around it wasn’t the mugger standing there. It was Vlad.” Danny’s breath staggered before he continued.

“He started saying stuff about taking Ellie back since he’s the one who made her. The one who had wanted her originally, never mind that he’d lost interest after realizing she was a girl and not his perfect son. But he kept saying things about how he had more life experience and was better equipped to raise her. How he’d be able to do better than me and provide more for her. And for me, if I let him. I hated it. I hated him for leveraging his age and wealth to try to get into our lives again. I didn’t have many reservations about punching him in the face about it either.”

Danny tightened his grip around Jason’s hand. He squeezed back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

“I turned to leave but at the mouth the alley was a van. And not one of those stereotypical white vans they warn you kidnappers use. No. No, it was my parents’ van. They slid open the door and and I felt like I couldn’t move. I looked down and Ellie was gone. They-” the words started getting choked up in his throat. His eyes becoming glassy as he fought with his next words.

“ They wanted to take her too. They said they still loved me even though I was different and that they could fix me.” His voice grew frantic and shaky. “They thought they could ‘fix me’ but that Ellie’s existence was unnatural. That it’d be better if they took her and tried to raise in a ‘normal’ environment, especially if she showed signs of being unnatural too!”

Danny turned his face into Jason’s shoulder, trying to fight back tears.

“ And I know they don’t actually think like that- that I need to be fixed, at least not anymore. But, the idea that they’d try to take her from me? Raise her better than I could? It tore me up inside. How could they want to raise her when the barely raised me and my sister? When my sister raised me more than they did? How could I trust them not to get her involved in experiments when they still store chemical samples the same fridge as our food? How could I trust them when I told them I didn’t want to be around Vlad and they still let him into our house? Because ‘We’ve know good ol’ Vladdie since college! Nothing to worry about with him!’ even though I told them I-!”

He paused trying to catch his breath. Jason lifted his other arm to wrap around the crying young man, tucking him under his chin. Danny shifted, now shuddering into his chest. Jason could feel the Pits ignite a fire in soul. His blood boiled and a voice cried out for blood in recompense for his friend’s pain.

‘What type of shitty parents-! No. Later’ he tried to reign in the voice. ‘Being here for him now is more important.’ He held the other even closer.

Finally, Danny calmed himself enough to continue, “ I know they don’t think that now. I know that they love me and, and Ellie too- and I still love them too and I know that they want to be better. But they just don’t get it. That there’s a lot of reasons I don’t want to be around them anymore. Reasons I don’t bring Ellie around if I can help it. Even though it was just a dream I couldn’t handle the idea that they- that anyone might try to take Ellie from me.”

Jason tilted his head slightly to press a soft, comforting, kiss on the top of Danny’s head. He rubbed small circles on his back and murmured gently in his ear,

“It’s okay Danny. It’s okay to be mad and upset and scared. From the sounds of it you have ever right to be. It’s okay for you to worry. I have a friend ya know. He’s a recovered addict, started getting extra serious about staying sober when his ex dropped a daughter off on his doorstep because he was worried at every turn that if he slipped up or relapsed someone would take her away. I know that it’s not the same but I think every parent is entitled to worrying over losing their kid. And it sounds like your own parents haven’t done you too many favors in minimizing the worry. But you don’t have to hold yourself back from being afraid. You’re allowed to be afraid, or upset or whatever else you might be feeling.”

He finally let go of Danny’s hand in order to hold him properly, once again shifting their positions. Now, they sat perpendicularly, with Danny partway into his lap, pressed against his chest. After a while Danny wiped his tears, whispering out a thanks to Jason and allowed himself to be comforted.

They sat in delicate silence until Jason finally worked up the nerve to speak.

“So you probably know who I am right?”

Danny lifted his head from Jason’s chest to give him a confused eyebrow raise. “Yeah I think I’d know whose lap I’m on right now?”

“Not like that,” Jason blushed. “ I mean since you asked about volunteering you must know who I am in a larger context right?”

“ You mean do I know you’re beloved Gotham celebrity and non-profit worker: Jason Todd-Wayne? Because I do. I did research this city before moving here, believe it or not. Actually I remember seeing a bunch of articles about how one of Gotham’s beloved sons had returned home with your picture around that time?”

Jason touched the back of his neck, glancing away in embarrassment.

“Uh yeah that, so you’ve probably hear about my- uuh, ‘resurrection’, huh?”

Danny’s expression sobered up. His eyes darkened and his voice got all quiet, likely due to the serious nature of the discussion.

“Yeah, I did. The media claimed you had been in a kidnapping turned terrorist attack slash hostage situation? And that you had managed to survive and were taken in by family who help you recover and reconnect with your dad once you were ready?” Danny recounted the cover story they’d given to the public. There was something in his tone that made Jason think there was more he wasn’t mentioning but it was likely all speculation or more sensitive details.

“Was-… was that what your dream was about?”

Jason bowed his head into Danny’s shoulder, not having it in him to say it to his face.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “It was.”

“Oh.”

Now it was Danny’s turn to hold Jason tight, one arm one his back and the other coming up to pet his hair, gently pressing the larger man further into his shoulder. It felt like something cracked open inside him. Suddenly, words came tumbling out before he could even think about them.

“ I was back in that warehouse. Laying on the ground, injured. I could hear someone crying. And- *gulp* -and his laughter before the explosion. It was … so hot. And when I woke up I couldn’t stand the thought of being trapped inside. The same way I was trapped … during some of the worst moments of my life. And I know I’m not there anymore but I’m still terrified by the memory! Sometimes I still get scared the man who took me the first time will find me again and I just-!”

He choked on a sob as Danny held him even tighter, as if trying to melt him into his skin.

“I just hated feeling that way so much!” He whimpered.

“It’s okay Jay, I’m here big guy. You can let it out.”

And for the first time in a long while Jason allowed himself to cry freely, sobbing into his neighbor’s shoulder. Danny continued to stroke his hair, rocking gentle as one would when comforting a child. But maybe that sort of gentleness was what Jason needed.

Once he heard Jason’s sobs subside Danny took a deep breath and spoke.

“You know what?”

“What?” Jason asked lifting his head to gaze into Danny’s icy blue eyes.

“I’m kinda glad I ended up out here tonight. I mean the nightmare sucked but at least I got to be here for you.” He smiled softly, “I’m in your corner if you ever need me.”

Jason couldn’t help the soft smile that worked it’s way onto his face.

“Yeah, me too. I’ll be there if you ever need help, with anything: Ellie, Vlad, your parents, your groceries.”

Danny giggled at that last part, knowing Jason was sincere. With a sigh he rested his cheek on Jason’s chest. Jason reach down to hold his hand again and the two enjoyed the feeling of holding someone who held them back.

With a sigh, Danny lifted his gaze from their hands to Jason’s face. Jason gave him a closed-mouth smile, his eyes asking if something was wrong.

“It’s the 4th of July in a few days.” He stated.

“Yes, it is.” Jason said back.

“If it’s not too short notice, Ellie and I would love to have you over again. We were gonna have barbecue and ice cream and then come out here and see if we could catch the fireworks. She’d love it if you could join us, and … and, well I would too.”

Jason swore Danny was looking at him with the biggest, roundest, most earnest eyes he’d ever seen, save for his daughter’s.

“ I’ll be there.”

Danny flushed at his quick response.

“Don’t wanna check your schedule first?”

“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t have anything else planned so I’ll do my best to be there.” He made sure the shorter man’s eyes met his as he said his next words. “Besides, I like spending time with the two of you too.”

‘His ears are pink, he’s just adorable.’ He thought to himself as Danny seemed brighten in a shy glow. He shifted in Jason’s lap, probably getting ready to get up when he did something that cause Jason to blue screen.

Danny tilted his head up planting a quick peck on his cheek before squeaking out a “see you then” and fleeing back into his apartment, leaving a wide-eyed Jason on the floor of his fire escape.

Jason sat there stunned, before a furious blush over took his face and decided to hurry back into his own apartment. The voice in his head came back to give its routine comments: ‘His lips are so soft, the stuff of dreams’

He somehow managed to blush even more violently. ‘Damn it’ he thought, shoving his head under his pillow, unable to tell whether he actually wanted to dream about Danny’s lips or not. ‘It’s actually embarrassing how worked I’m getting over a fleeting kiss on the cheek from a friend.’

~

~Bzzt~ “Calling for back up! Firefly decided to start his annual firework show early this year!” ~Bzzt~ Signal called through the emergency comms.

Jason cursed his luck, of course Firefly would attack just as he got off work! Now he might be late to dinner! He sighed and tried to look on the bright-side: If they dealt with this now that meant it was less likely for any of the other rouges to try anything later. Then, the comm crackled back to life.

~Bzzt~ “I could have got him by now but he keeps lightin’ more shit on fire! By the time I get the first fires under control and punch him in the face, he’s started 20 more! Normally I’d be able to handle it, but there’s a lot of civilians around right now and fires take priority. I just need someone to help me keep the guy down long enough to make the arrest.” ~Bzzt~

Jason started ducking through alleys trying to get to his near safe house in order to grab his gear. Hey called back to Duke over the comms.

“Signal, heard! I just got off work. See if you can herd him towards the Alley. It’ll give the Red Hood an excuse to show up and beat the shit outa him while you make sure nothing actually gets damaged. I’m heading to the safe house near the Catherine Johnson Rec Center. Try to get him at least two blocks away!”

~Bzzt~ “Heard!” ~Bzzt~

Jason tossed the comm to the side and started strapping into his body armor. He started fastening his helmet when felt something in the air change. Then the comms buzzed to life once more.

~Bzzt~ “Hood, I’ve got Firefly coming your way! He’s heading up Delancy Ave.!” ~Bzzt~

Hood readied his grapple on shot.

“Good, keep him there! I’ll see you in 5, Narrows!”

~Bzzt~ “On it! I’ll be waiting Alley!” ~Bzzt~

Jason swung through the rooftops, heading in the direction of the fires that kept spontaneously appearing and subsequently being extinguished.

When he arrived Hood found Signal split between stopping fires and engaging Firefly in combat. The madman was so absorbed in antagonizing Signal that he hadn’t noticed Hood’s approach. Signal was handling him pretty well but being unable to focus solely on the villain lowered his efficiency. Jason’s mind wandered back to his friend, who had wanted to see him tonight, and decided he’d end this quickly.

You see for all his bulk and bullheadedness Jason was still a highly trained and intelligent individual. Maintaining the element of surprise he approached in the shadows silently looking down from his perch on an adjacent building. He made subtle gestures for Signal to move the guy into place, which he returned with the slightest of nods. Signal moved Firefly over to the side of the building closest to Jason’s position. Jason got ready took make use of his high ground, tapping into what he learned from Dick.

With a deep breath Jason runs up and launches himself into a triple forward somersault, building up power and momentum. In midair he took account of his bearings, aiming his feet at Firefly’s back.

Firefly goes down like he’s been hit by a semi.

“AND THATS WHY YOU STAY OUTA THE ALLEY FUCKER!” Jason shouts, crouching over the rouge who was quickly losing consciousness. Even though it’d been his plan to lure him here Jason was still protective of what was his. And Crime Alley? Crime Alley was his territory.

He stands up and gives Signal a celebratory high five.

“Nice going, ya tank! I thought he’d never go down!”

“No problem, Dayshift! Nice work handling him, you’d have gotten him eventually. I just sped up the process.”

“Thanks Hood, I ‘preciate it.”

“Soooo, you good here oorrr…?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it. Get outa here before the cops show up and arrest you,” Signal dismissed him.

Jason gave him a quick, two-finger salute before running off to change before he was late to dinner.

~

Jason arrives at the Nightingales’ red faced and out of breath. His hair is a windswept mess and his clothes slightly messy from his quick change. He knocks on the door desperately trying to tame his hair and adjust his t-shirt and jeans.

Jason feels a burst of cool air as the door opens and he’s greeted by a smiling Danny and a surprised Ellie. He smiles at the two but Danny speaks before he’s got the chance.

“ Surprise! It’s Jason!” He says with some mild jazz hands.

To which seem to Ellie explode in glee. Jason swears she’s vibrating with how fast she’s bouncing.

“The secret surprise guest was Mr. Jason! Awesome!”

And just like that there is small child attached to his leg. He looks down at her, then up at Danny, who’s holding in laughter, then back at Ellie. Then he bursts out laughing. He bends down down to scoop the young girl up into his arms and she lets out a small “whoa!” Jason follows Danny into the apartment, Ellie resting on his hip.

“It’s nice to see you to princess!”

“Mr. Jason! You’re not wearing any red!”

“Huh?”

He looks down to see the young girl scrutinizing his plain white shirt and blue jeans and looks questioningly at Danny. The young man takes pity on him and explains.

“Ellie really wanted to wear red, white and blue for the 4th of July,” gesturing to his own outfit: a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt with a logo for a band called Fifth World Raga, and a lightweight red flannel wit the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“That’s right! I have a white skirt and socks, and a blue top and tiara, and my cardigan, my sneakers and beanie are all red!” She showed off. Then she pointed at Jason.

“You’ve gotta white shirt and blue jeans but no red!” Then she gasped, “Oooooh! I have an idea! Wait here!” She said, scrambling off to her room.

Jason looked at Danny who smiled and shrugged helplessly in a “eh, whadda ya gonna do” sort a fashion. To which Jason just huffed in amusement.

That’s when Ellie rushed back in, holding something behind her back. She patted Jason’s thigh indicating for him to bend down, to which he obliged by crouching down to her level.

“Close your eyes!”

Jason shut his eyes. He felt something being placed around his neck and on his head.

“Open them!”

Jason found himself looking into a small purple hand held mirror. Ellie had placed a cheap red-beaded party necklace around his neck and a silver tiara with red gems on his head, one to match her own silver and blue one.

“I have lotsa tiaras so you can borrow this one so that you can have red! And you can even keep the necklace!”

Jason’s internal monologue nearly burst into tears. ‘She’s an angel! She’s bestowed such a wonderful gift Must. Protect. At All Costs!’

He heard Danny burst into laughter but focused his attention on the grinning girl in front of him.

“Thank you so much Princess! I love it! Just what I needed! I’m honored to receive such a thoughtful gift!

“Yeah Ellie, it looks great on him!” Danny chimed in between chuckles.

“That’s great daddy b’cause I found a white one for you! Now we can all match!”

Danny stopped laughing and Jason returned him a wicked grin.

“Yeah, your highness! We can all match! Besides, what’s a king without his crown!”

Danny sighed, placing the tiara on his head.

“Thanks Ell, I love it.”

“Your welcome daddy!”

“Alright, now go wash your hands for dinner!”

“Okay!”

And the girl scurried off to wash her hands. Jason grinned at the interaction. He waited till the girl was gone before turning to Danny.

“Looking good your highness,” he teased.

“Oh, hush you!” Danny flushed. “Come help me set the table. It’s not a traditional barbecue but I made some chili, hotdogs, veggie skewers, and some coleslaw. We’ve also got fruit salad and some soda pop in the fridge. Ellie wanted to do a homemade version of chili dogs and I had to insist on some fruits and veggies in there. Ancients knows she needs her nutrients! If you could be a dear and grab some plates off the drying rack that’d be great!”

“Of course, your highness! You had me at chili,” Jason said following Danny into the kitchen.

~

Later that evening after finishing up with dinner. Danny herded them all onto the fire escape with some frozen treats. Ellie had drumstick ice cream cone, Jason an ice cream bar, and Danny an orange popsicle.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to see the fireworks from here but fingers crossed we do. Just don’t be too disappointed if you can’t see them alright Ell?” Danny told his daughter.

“It’s okay daddy! Even if I don’t see the fireworks I still have you and Mr. Jason and my ice cream!”

Jason and Danny looked at each other sharing the same thoughts: ‘She’s so precious!!!!’

Then the tell tale boom of fireworks started and the trio turned their attention to the sky. A streak of red danced across the sky before it burst into a shower of ruby colored sparks. Then came gold, and green and blue and white. One after another in a barrage of sound and color. And they were just able to see it above the end of the alley.

Ellie let out an awed “Whooooaaaa” as she watched the colors dance across the sky. She turned back to her dad tugging on his sleeve and point up at the sky. He chuckled, picking her up to give her a better view pointing at the sky with her saying, “Look at that one!”

It was near enough to make Jason’s own heart burst.

“Beautiful.”

“I know right!” Danny said, glancing back at him, talking about the fireworks. Silently, Jason thought about the way both of the Nightingales’ glossy black hair reflected the fireworks colors in their sheen.

Then Danny turned to hand his phone to Jason.

“Would you mind taking a picture of us?” He asked. “I never had many growing up and I want this to be something she’ll remember.” Looking back down at the child on his hip.

“Of course I can,” he said, taking the phone in his hand. “Smile!”

Jason looked down at the photo he snapped when he saw something that made his heart stall. It was a good photo, both Danny and Ellie smiling at the camera while the remains of a fireworks fell behind them in a shower of fading light. What stopped him in his tracks was the soft look on his own reflection in the window of the apartment staring at Danny and Ellie.

And he realized, ‘Oh. I like Danny’

And he doesn’t know when he zoned out and missed Danny taking his phone back, but he zones right back in when two arms are thrown over his shoulders and suddenly he’s in a selfie sandwich. Both Nightingales press close, Ellie throwing up a peace sign while Danny snaps the photo.

The two laugh at his startled face and he can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him.

“Hey! I wanna redo!”

~

That night Jason tosses and turns in bed while his brain replays images of Danny: his smile, his lips, his laugh, the way he licks an ice pop. If he hadn’t realized earlier then he definitely knows now.

Jason Todd has an undeniable, unequivocal crush on Daniel Nightingale.

~~~ I tried with that fight scene but I don’t have a lotta experience there. I know this is a fluff fic so sorry to angst you but it’s necessary for hurt/comfort. Have some “Jason accepts his feelings” to make up for it. Sorry if it’s too clunky or dialogue heavy. I’m open to constructive criticism so let me know what you think.

Fifth World Raga is a real band in the DCU their a rock band and their music is described as quote “spiritual in nature” so I feel like it fit Danny’s vibe.

[booksandabeer]

Stucky, Fandom Longevity, and "Primacy Bias"

There’s this post that's been floating around the past few days about how the Stucky fandom in its heyday produced fic and art masterpieces like they were all collectively possessed by an unprecedented spirit of creative insanity. It’s a good, fun post and I agree with the person who wrote it. (not rb'ing because I didn't want to hijack their post with something that's only tangentially related).

It was indeed a magical time and the creative output in both quantity and quality in the two-year period following the release of CA:TWS is—with perhaps a few exceptions—unmatched by anything that I’ve seen before and since. However, going through the notes on that post, I noticed something that left me a little irritated and quite frankly sad since it is in congruence with, and to a certain extent the confirmation of something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

For one thing, there are so many people in the notes expressing sentiments along the lines of “it was such a wonderful time; I wish I could go back; I miss these fics; I want to read these fics again,” etc., etc., you get it. And it feels a little silly pointing this out, but…you can just do that? Almost all of these fics are still right there, waiting for you to be (re)read. Yes, a lot of people left the fandom after The Great Devastation of 2019, but their stories didn’t just disappear. It's not like there is now a big, black hole where the Steve/Bucky tag used to be on AO3. So, if you miss these fics and you want to revisit them—just do it. Chances are the authors will be delighted that people are still finding and enjoying their stories all these years later. And—since apparently this needs saying, too, judging from the notes on that post: A lot of people seem to be very concerned with losing ‘coolness points’ for openly admitting that they still miss the ship and often feel tempted to dip their toes back into the Stucky pool. I don’t know how to tell you this, but if someone tries to shame you for simply enjoying or missing something, they are an asshole. Not to mention that all this is happening on tumble.com—'coolness' doesn't exactly live here. And that is a good thing, to be clear. Fandom is not about being cool. It’s about being as enthusiastic, as silly, as absolutely fucking unhinged about the things you love as you want to be. So, stop caring what other people think and enjoy yourself.

The other thing is that there seems to be a pretty widespread misconception that the Stucky fandom hasn’t produced any good fanworks after 2016.

First, that is patently and demonstrably untrue. There is so much incredibly good fanfiction and fanart still out there. Not as much as back in the day, sure, but it still exists. And more is being posted every day! Even some of the OG Big Names are still around. One of the most beloved Stucky series that started all the way back in 2014 was updated as recently as December of last year. The artist, who I believe the op is referring to as creating ‘baroque’ paintings, posted their latest Stucky art not even two months ago.

Second, I find this “primacy bias” more than just a little insulting to the many hardworking and incredibly talented people who are still putting their blood, sweat, and tears into creating for this community. And it’s one thing if people who have long left the fandom believe or say something like this, but it’s frankly irritating when I see people who are still very much active—and therefore definitely should know better—feed into that same false myth. Yes, it sucks that the Stucky ship isn’t as big as it used to be, but that doesn't mean there isn't any 'fresh talent' to be found anymore. I’m also not saying we shouldn’t still celebrate and recommend older works—I do it all the time! And it sure as hell doesn't mean everyone has to reblog absolutely everything all the time, either. Your blog, your rules.

But maybe we should put a little more focus on the good things, on the creators and the community we have now, especially if we want that community to still exist in another ten years. I mean, imagine you’re a person who’s just gotten into the fandom (because yes, there are indeed still new people discovering Stucky all the time) and one of the first things you’re being told is “eh, nice that you're here, but you’re about 7 years late; the big party is already over.” Does that seem like a fun space to hang out in to you?

So. Let’s all—and I do not exclude myself from this because God knows, I love to complain—spend a little less time mourning the ‘good old days’ that are never coming back anyway, and instead focus our attention on enjoying and appreciating both the incredible treasure chest of an archive we have AND the wealth of high-quality art and fic that is still being created by this wonderful community every single day. With this in mind:

🥳🎊Happy Stucky Week 2023!!! 🎊🥳

*I want to make it very clear that this is a general thing that’s been on my mind lately and that I’m trying to work through here—probably not very coherently. I'm not trying to tell anybody 'how to do fandom' and I’m most definitely not vagueposting about any particular incident, person, or group in this fandom. This isn’t a callout post. It’s an I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this and I don’t know what else do with them post.

[wongyuseokie]

Your Loss | c.h.v | k.m.g | c.s.c | y.j.h | b.s.k 

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend and you broke up a few months ago, but you two remained friends, and of course, his nosy friends can’t help but pry and get as detailed as possible to find out what ended the relationship, and then, of course, offer to make only you feel better. However, they can. All while your ex-boyfriend watches. ☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕smut | ♥︎ completed Word Count:  2550 words

Pairing(s): Chwe Hansol x Female Reader | Choi Seungcheol x Female Reader | Yoon Jeonghan x Female Reader | Kim Mingyu x Female Reader | Boo Seungkwan x Female Reader Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): PWP, Smut. Content Warnings: Y/N is Vernon’s ex, and they ended on good terms, but the others are nosy. A few snappy comments, but nothing too toxic or emasculating. Mentions of alcohol. Seungkwan is a flirty lil’ shit. Vernon likes watching. 

Smut Warnings: Dom!Cheol, Dom!Mingyu, Dom!Jeonghan, Dom!Seungkwan. Unprotected sex (please don’t do this irl). Overstimulation, double penetration, breast & nipple play. Oral (m & f receiving), face riding, squirting. Mentions of public sex. Pet names (good boy, baby boy, pretty girl), praise kink. Pussy slapping. Cum play. Biting, it’s mild. Voyeur Vernon. Handjobs, cum swallowing. Sir kink. Name-calling (whore). Authors Note 1: This is a fic I wrote for my lovely soul mate @here4btsfics. I'm so glad to have you in my life, my love, you make every day brighter and happier. Thank you for being born, and thank you for letting me celebrate with you too 💕 Authors Note 2: Thank you so much to @duhnova & @the-boy-meets-evil for helping me beta this horny mess, and yelling at me (affectionately) for writing this!! 💕💕💕💕 Banner Credits: @classicscreations Cross Posted to AO3 © wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

“Is this okay?” Your ex-boyfriend, Vernon, asked as he poured you a glass of wine. You had invited him and his friends–well, they were your friends, but they were his friends first–over to your apartment because it had been a while since you all caught up. 

It had been six months since the breakup and six months since you last saw the others. 

“Yeah? We ended on good terms, and it’s not awkward, not for me. What about you?” You asked. 

“No, I’m glad we were mature about it.” 

“Me too,” Vernon agreed. 

“YOOOOO! Open the door, love birds!” You heard someone yell outside your front door and exchanged a look with Vernon. 

“Jeonghan,” you both mumbled at the same time. You cracked a grin before heading to your door to let the dramatic man in. 

“Hello gorgeous,” Jeonghan greeted, stepping into your apartment and engulfing you in a tight embrace. 

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted back, your voice muffled by his toned chest. 

“Ahem?” You heard Vernon interject. 

“Oh, quit it. We had to deal with this shit when you two were together,” Jeonghan dismissed, making you and Vernon crack a smile. 

“Now shall we drink? The others might be late,” Jeonghan offered, and you nodded. 

“Sure, let’s get drunk,” you joked. 

“God, I’ve missed this,” Jeonghan said, sipping his wine. 

“What, drinking?” You joked, and Jeonghan glared at you.

“No, smartass, I meant it’s nice drinking just the adults,” Jeonghan retorted, making you laugh. 

“And you’re an adult?” You teased, making Jeonghan glare at you.

“I swear you and Mingyu are the same age, though, mentally at least,” Jeonghan mumbled, making you laugh. 

“Shut up. He could never do the wonders that my tongue does,” Jeonghan said, making you bite your lip as you tried to imagine it. 

“Uh, too much information, Hyung,” Vernon mumbled. He didn’t mind the conversation, but the idea of you being orally pleasured made his pants tighten, especially if he could be a fly on the wall when it happened.  

“Meh, Y/N? Do you mind?” Jeonghan teased, and you just kept sipping your wine. 

“Ah, speechless, I like that,” Jeonghan teased, and you were about to scowl at him when the front door opened to reveal Seungkwan, Seungcheol, and Mingyu entering your apartment. 

“Sorry, we’re late, Y/N. We were working on a new track,” Seungkwan explained while you got up from the sofa to greet him, and he welcomed you into a hug, his large arms wrapping around you. 

“That’s okay. Can I at least get a sneak peek?” You asked, batting your eyelashes at him, and Seungkwan laughed. 

“Pretty girl, if you think I haven’t figured out your ways yet, you’re insane. No, you do not get a teaser,” Seungkwan said, and you pouted and got out of his arms to hug Seungcheol and Mingyu. 

Mingyu, energetic as always, practically carried you into his arms. 

“Gyu!” You squealed as Mingyu kept your feet off the ground.

“I’ve missed you, pretty girl. How have you been?” Mingyu asked, earning a smile from you. 

“I’m good, wait. You’ve missed me?” You asked, and Mingyu nodded. 

“Yup, well, not just me,” Mingyu said, making you giggle.

“Alright, are y’all done babbling?” Jeonghan interjected. “Can we drink?” He asked, huffing, and you smiled, nodding. 

A couple of hours passed, and most of you were at least three drinks in. The room became warmer, your lips became looser, and your thoughts became wilder. 

“So why’d you two break up?” Mingyu blurted out, making Vernon choke on his drink. 

“I guess we just decided we were better off as friends?” You suggested, unsure how to say, ‘we just fizzled out.’ 

“Yeah. No bad blood. She’s a sweetheart,” Vernon agreed. 

“Mhm, she does smell sweet too,” Jeonghan slurred slightly as he leaned into your side. 

“It’s my new perfume,” you answered. 

“Possibly, but I’m sure you would also taste very sweet,” Jeonghan flirted, making you grin. 

“That’s very true. You taste sweet,” Seungkwan agreed, and you stared at him. 

“How on earth would you know?” You asked, and Seungkwan grinned and turned to face your ex-boyfriend, who was turning beet red. 

“God, Y/N tastes so sweet, I could bury my tongue inside her and die a happy man,” Seungkwan mocked in a voice meant to sound like Vernon.

You gasped at Seungkwan’s words, which you guess were Vernon’s. 

“Vernon?” You asked. 

“Babe. I’m sorry. I thought this dude understood bro code,” Vernon mumbled, shooting Seungkwan a glare. 

“So, bad sex wasn’t the issue?” Seungcheol asked suddenly. 

“God no, the sex was amazing,” you admitted, the alcohol dissolving your filter. 

“What was a dirty secret of Vernon’s, one he won’t tell us?” Mingyu asked, wiggling his brows at you. 

“You guys are evil, and I’m not telling,” you replied, making Mingyu pout. 

“So, how good did she taste?” Mingyu asked, and you choked on your drink, and you were sure if they kept asking such questions, you’d end up choking on your drink all night long. 

“Sweet, like candy,” Vernon slurred, and you were tempted to throw something at your ex-boyfriend’s face to shut him up, but you’d be lying if you said the compliment didn’t flatter you. 

“Can I find out?” Mingyu asked, and all you could do was gawk at him and look at your ex-boyfriend, hoping Mingyu’s words wouldn’t start a fight. 

Instead, Vernon gave a lazy smile and leaned back in his seat. 

“Why don’t you ask her? I’m sure she’ll be happy to let you taste,” Vernon teased, and you snapped your legs shut, pressing your thighs together to get some relief. 

“Y/N? Can I taste you? I promise I’ll be good,” Mingyu said sincerely, his eyes hopeful and his gaze sinful. 

“Uh, I don’t see why not?” You offered slowly. 

“On one condition,” Vernon spoke. 

“Which is?” Mingyu asked. 

“I want to see,” Vernon said, and you gulped. 

“Shit, I think we found Vernon’s hidden kink. He’s a little vouyer,” Mingyu teased. 

“And you want to lick my ex’s pussy. Shall we get into your issues?” Vernon fired back, and Mingyu pouted and shook his head. 

“Y/N,” Vernon started to say, and you looked up at him. 

“Yes?” 

“Go over to Hyung, and give him a taste,” Vernon instructed, his voice smooth and husky. You nodded, downing your drink and got up, moved over to where Mingyu was sitting and placed yourself onto his lap. 

Mingyu reacted quicker, pulling you off his lap, placing you on the sofa, and making you yelp in the process as he got onto his knees. 

Mingyu smirked at you as he pulled your sweats and underwear off. You were already letting out a soft whimper, and Mingyu had barely touched you.  

“Pretty little pussy,” Mingyu praised, his hot breath on your cunt. 

“Gyu, please do something,” you begged, and a sharp slap to your cunt stopped your whimpers. 

“I’m not Gyu; I’m your Sir. Don’t fuck with me, princess, or you won’t cum,” Mingyu threatened, and you shook your head furiously, and you heard the faint groans of the other men in the room,

“Can you multitask, pretty princess?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded. 

“Good girl. Make Seungcheol Hyung cum, and I’ll make you cum,” Mingyu said, and you let out a soft moan before turning your head to see Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol was sitting next to you, and you turned your body, so your head was in his lap. You palmed his length, making him moan, and kept palming him until he hardened under your touch. 

You pulled his cock out of his grey sweats. You wrapped your mouth around his thick length, moaning as you tasted his arousal, and used your tongue to lap at it. 

“Princess, do you like sucking on Seungcheol Hyung’s cock?” Mingyu asked, and you whimpered, moaning around Seungcheol ’s cock, making Seungcheol grip your hair tighter as he thrust his cock further into your mouth, hissing as he did so.  

“Good girl,” Mingyu praised and finally placed his tongue on your cunt. Mingyu licked your pussy with short licks until his tongue finally reached your clit. You moaned more around Seungcheol’s cock, as Mingyu slid two long fingers into your cunt, while his tongue flicked your clit. 

You whimpered, trying to move your mouth away from Seungcheol ’s cock to moan, and Mingyu noticed, moving his mouth away immediately. 

“Until he cums down your greedy little throat, you do not move, understood?” Mingyu warned, making you whimper.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mingyu said with a proud smirk. 

You groaned and resumed your actions on Seungcheol’s cock, while Mingyu kept fingering you all while sucking on your clit with his tongue.  

“Make her cum Gyu, and cum inside her. I want to lick your cum out of her,” Seungcheol said breathlessly, making Mingyu grunt as he nodded, moving his mouth away from your cunt. 

“Fuck you are so sweet, princess. You need to ride my face sometime,” Mingyu said, making you shudder at the thought. 

You kept bobbing your head up and down Seungcheol ’s cock, until he stilled and came down your throat, a string of curse words leaving Seungcheol ’s lips as he came. 

“Good?” You asked Seungcheol, removing your mouth from his cock. Seungcheol nodded lazily, smiling fondly at you.  

“Amazing,” Seungcheol complimented, making you smile. 

Mingyu moved his mouth away from your cunt to pull you into a soft kiss.

You yelped suddenly when Mingyu grabbed your waist and flipped you onto your hands and knees. You felt him push his length into you. Mingyu’s thick length was a lot longer, which allowed his cock to hit deep inside you. 

“Vernon!” You gasped, suddenly realising that he was in the room, along with Jeonghan and Seungkwan, but your worries faded when you saw Vernon’s hand palming his clothed erection and a smirk, letting you know it was okay to continue. 

“Fucking hell. You’re perfect, baby,” Mingyu praised as you moaned as you fell forward as he constantly pounded his cock into you, hitting all the right spots inside you. 

“More”, you begged, and a sharp slap to your ass silenced you as Mingyu grabbed your hair, yanking you up, your back pressed against his chest. 

“I set the pace, pretty girl. You’re just my little whore,” Mingyu warned, making you whimper. 

“Sorry, Sir,” you mumbled, and Mingyu groaned in approval, pounding senselessly into you. 

“Good girl,” Mingyu praised, finally pushing you over the edge and making you cum. You felt someone’s tongue on your pussy, making you wail in pleasure, as you looked down to see Seungcheol sucking on your clit. 

Mingyu came soon after your release, groaning as he pulled out of you. Mingyu placed a kiss on your cheek and helped to position you on your back. 

“Good?” Mingyu asked, and you moaned out a ‘yes,’ followed by a yelp when you felt Seungcheol resume his assault on your cunt. 

Seungcheol started to lick your clit, moving his tongue inside your cunt to lick Mingyu’s cum out of you, making you shiver as you came again. Seungcheol gave your pussy a final kiss and pulled away, smirking at your ex-boyfriend, who was sitting in the corner of the room, his hand now under his jeans, cupping his hardened length. 

You felt yourself being woken up from your dream-like state when Seungkwan picked you up in his arms. Seungkwan carried you over and placed you down slowly onto Jeonghan ’s cock. You let out a hiss, already sensitive from your multiple orgasms. 

“God, you’re tight, and Mingyu, where are your manners? Not letting your Hyungs have a turn first?” Jeonghan asked, and you giggled. 

“Sorry, Hyung, but you know you can’t last that long, so if you went now, you’d be out,” Mingyu teased, making Jeonghan glare at the tall man. 

“If this kitten weren’t soaking my cock right now, you’d be a dead man,” Jeonghan threatened, and Mingyu shrugged. 

Jeonghan sighed, ignoring Mingyu and instead wrapped his hands around your waist, holding you still and placing a soft kiss on your lips. You weren’t sure when Seungkwan sat down next to you, but you whimpered when you felt his long fingers on your clit. 

“Fucking hell,” you moaned, falling into Jeonghan ’s toned chest. 

“Pretty girl, I’m going to fuck you along with Hyung. Will you let me?” Seungkwan asked, his hot breath on your neck, and you let out a muffled gasp before answering. 

“Yes,” you breathed out, and Seungkwan groaned, feeling his cock twitch, and he couldn't move quickly enough. 

“Hyung, can you lay down? I want to see if she can take both of us in one go?” Seungkwan asked, and Jeonghan groaned and nodded as he laid down on the couch carefully to never pull out of your tight cunt. 

“Good god,” Seungkwan groaned as he knelt between Jeonghan’s legs and positioned himself at your entrance, and pushed his thick cock in, resting it against Jeonghan’s. You moaned, found Jeonghan’s lips, and kissed him, gently biting and tugging his full lips, begging for more. 

Both men groaned, feeling how tight you were, hissing as their cocks rubbed against one another. Jeonghan started to thrust first, and Seungkwan followed after. 

Both men were close, and Seungkwan knew this and moved his hands down to massage Jeonghan ’s balls, making him whine and buck into you harder, causing you to collapse onto his chest as you came, making them both groan as you tightened around their cocks. 

You felt Seungkwan yank you into his embrace; your back pressed into his chest. 

“None of us are quite done with you, baby,” Seungkwan said, and you nodded lazily. You were pretty sure your limbs would be out of commission, but you didn’t care because the pleasure was overwhelmingly good. 

You turned your head to see Mingyu standing by your side and Seungcheol on the other, and you shakily reached to take Mingyu into your mouth while your hand stroked Seungcheol. 

The room was soon filled with sinful noises, groans, whines and whimpers. 

You screamed as you came again. This time after Jeonghan came inside you first, Seungkwan hissed, soon releasing in you as well. Both men continued to stay inside you while you moaned around Mingyu’s cock as his grip on your hair got tighter until he finally came, and you greedily swallowed his release. 

You moved your mouth off Mingyu’s cock and turned all your attention to Seungcheol and replaced your hand with your mouth, and sucked him until he, too, came down your throat. 

Mingyu and Seungcheol lay back on the sofa while Seungkwan and Jeonghan pulled out of you slowly while you laid back on the couch and were about to relax and recover. 

Jeonghan, however, had other plans and suddenly shoved three fingers into your cunt, while Seungkwan rubbed your clit, making you squirt and writhe as you came undone again. 

You shook, gasping as you curled into Jeonghan’s chest, who placed a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“So, round two?”  Jeonghan  joked, earning a glare from you. 

“I’m not opposed to it. Mind if I join the next time, kitten?” Vernon asked, his voice husky and low, and you gulped, nodding. 

“Mhm, please do.” 

[arliedraws]

One-Shot: Sirius falls through the Veil, ends up in 1981, and kidnaps his 21-year-old self

This is the silliest thing. Someone prompted me a month ago with “What if Sirius went back in time and kidnapped James to keep him safe?” And while this was a good prompt, I thought about the likelihood that he would kidnap his younger self. (Also, I think this is the prompt that got me thinking about HARRY going back to 1981—all these ideas are connected 😂). I think I meant to make this some sort of Sirius/Sirius incest (is it incest?), but I never got around to writing the smut, haha. Anyway, I wrote this about a month ago, and found it today. I realized I hadn’t finished it and threw on a few more words to sort of tie it up neatly (haha). I don’t think I’ll post it on AO3 so enjoy this tiny treat here!

When Sirius awoke, his cheek was pressed to the floor and his arms were bound behind him. An ache throbbed behind his eyes, and his mouth was dry. Groaning, he tried to lift his head, but it was too heavy. The ropes were hardly necessary—he wasn’t sure if he could have moved even if his arms and legs were free. It didn’t feel like the side-effects of a stunning spell—it was almost like he’d been drugged. 

He blinked. The room came into focus. 

It was his flat. The dirty floor belonged to him—the dusty television had been a gift from James, the sofa a hand-me-down from the Potters, and the rug a street-find. Sirius listened carefully. Someone was in the kitchen. Sirius peered beneath the sofa to see a pair of boots moving around in the kitchen.

Inwardly, he swore. What had happened? He’d been in a scrap—he remembered that. There were three Death Eaters—Rosier, Wilkes, and some other one he couldn’t recognize by voice alone—who had tripped his alarm in Hogsmeade. He’d leapt into action before they could do any serious damage. There was a fight; they were swift but he was faster, and then he remembered their sudden flight, their masked faces disappearing before he could capture one of them. This enraged him. He reported it to Moody, and Moody told him to go home and rest. 

Sirius hadn’t gone home, however. He returned London and went to the pub.

It was coming back now: the pub, the man with the haunted eyes—the one who reminded him of his father, who had bought him a drink.

He drugged you.

Sirius was trying to remember when it must have happened. When Sirius arrived at the pub, it was relatively busy, and he sat at the bar where he liked to flirt with whoever was slinging pints. It hadn’t been more than ten minutes before the man came in.

Not a bad looking bloke. A bit worn, a little thin in the face. A Muggle, he’d thought. He wore black jeans, boots, a cotton t-shirt, and brown leather jacket. Yet Sirius caught his gaze, and he felt something very strange. It was like the man could see every mistake he’d ever made in his life—as if he knew precisely who Sirius was.

Sirius was drawn to him, and he was glad when the man asked if he could join him. They spoke blandly for a few minutes, yet there was an undercurrent of electricity between them that thrummed beneath his skin. The man asked rather boring questions—was he from London? Did he have a girlfriend? Where did he go to school? Sirius had come up with alter egos dozens of times, and providing this Muggle with rubbish answers came easily.

“How old are you?” the man wondered.

“Almost twenty-two,” Sirius responded honestly. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-six.”

Sirius wasn’t sure if that surprised him or made perfect sense. He had placed this man anywhere between thirty and middle-aged because the man did not look very old but carried a particular gravitas that only people of a certain age could bear. 

“What are you looking for?” Sirius asked. “Someone younger?”

“No. I was looking for you.”

Sirius grinned. “Oh yeah? How’d you know I’d be here?”

Yet the man only looked at him a bit sadly, and the grin slipped from Sirius’s face. The man glanced around to ensure they weren’t overheard before he leaned in, his haunted eyes flickering to the half-drunk beer on the bar.

“People like you aren’t so hard to predict,” he murmured. “What are you looking for?”

“Nothing,” said Sirius. That was true. It had been a long time since he had looked for anything in particular—there were times when anyone would do, and there were others when he was so particular that he went home alone. 

The man drained the rest of his own pint and then took a swig of Sirius’s. 

“You come here alone often, don’t you?” said the man.

“I don’t usually leave alone.”

“Liar.”

Sirius took his glass back, not keen on letting the man drink the rest for him. There were only a few dregs left. 

“Why not? Reckon I’ve got a face only a mother could love?” said Sirius. He grimaced at his beer. The rest was a bit flat, and it had gone warm too. The man, however, caught the bartender’s eye and indicated they both needed another round.

The man shrugged. “If only she did.”

That rankled Sirius. “Do I know you?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Sirius leaned against the bar, his head swimming. He couldn’t remember much else from then on, only bits and blurs as they continued to talk, the man pressing questions and Sirius feeling robotic as he responded, losing his grip as he watched the man watch him, those pale eyes so eerily familiar. He felt sluggish and stupid. The words tumbled from his mouth, and at some point, he felt the man tug on his arm and lead him from the pub. 

Now he was remembering—Sirius had been vaguely aware that the situation was not good. The man tugged him along when Sirius began to dig in his heels. No, he recalled thinking. No, I’m not right. Something’s wrong. 

“Don’t fight me now,” the man warned. “You were doing so well, Sirius.” 

“Who’re you?” Sirius slurred. His tongue wouldn’t move properly.

The man might have answered, but there was a whooshing in his ears. He could hardly see, and the man was pulling him through a door and up a flight of stairs. Sirius had reached into his pocket for his wand but couldn’t find it. The grip on his arm tightened and Sirius weakly fought back.

That was it—it was all he could remember. 

Sirius wriggled his fingers. His shoulders ached. How long had he been tied like this? 

“Awake, are you?” said the man from the kitchen.

Sirius remained silent.

The boots crossed from the kitchen, out of sight for a moment, and then came around the sofa. Sirius followed the movement, turning his head. He needed to sit up, not lie about with his chest pressed against the floor, but the ropes were too tight.

The man crouched beside him.

“How do you feel?”

“Did…did you...” He could hardly form the words. “Drug me?”

“Yes. Slipped it in when I took your drink. You didn’t notice a thing.”

“Why?” said Sirius, still feeling too sluggish to comprehend. His mouth felt as if it were filled with cotton. 

“You’ll learn soon enough,” said the man. “Just sit tight until the drowsiness wears off.”

“Why m’I on the floor?”

“You kept rolling off the sofa, and I got tired of putting you back.”

At least he had tried to fight back. 

The man hooked his hands in the rope, pulled until Sirius was upright, and set him against the sofa. Whatever fear Sirius felt a moment ago was trickling away, but he couldn’t understand why—this man held him against his will. Sirius had been drugged and bound and left on the floor of his flat. The man, however, looked at him with curiosity and pity—if this were the man to kill him, Sirius felt oddly at peace with it.

Strong fingers took his chin and turned his face. 

“Like what you see?” said Sirius dryly.

“You’re very handsome.”

“S’pose…s’pose you took advantage while I was drugged?”

A smile tugged on the man’s lips, drawing one corner into a soft smirk as he drew a finger from cheek to jaw. Sirius shivered. 

“No,” said the man. “Where’s the fun in that?”

An exhale hit Sirius’s face, carrying with it the stale smell of beer and whiskey. How long ago had they left the pub? The window was still dark, and the streetlamp cast its warm beam through the curtains.

He couldn’t think properly. Whatever poison the man had tipped into his drink, it had yet to leave his system, and it was every bit of strength he could muster to keep himself from keeling over sideways. 

“Muggle?” asked Sirius. The question fell out unformed. 

The man’s smile widened. “Are you asking if I’m a Muggle?”

“Are you?

“No.”

“What d’you want? Why’d you tie me up?”

“You tried to fight me.You might fall for a drugged drink, but you’re clever enough to know when to fight back. I also know how you duel, but we have important things to discuss, and I’d like to keep my limbs attached.”

“I can hardly move,” murmured Sirius, his head feeling heavy.

“Give it time. Are you thirsty?”

Sirius nodded slowly. The man stood and disappeared from view. Get out of these ropes! Do some blasted wandless magic, idiot! At least try to escape! Inhaling, Sirius closed his eyes. Wandless magic was exceedingly difficult even when his hands weren’t tied. Finite, he thought. Finite—Finite—!

The man chuckled as he returned.

“Don’t bother. You’re still drowsy, and you won’t get free without a wand.” 

Sirius opened his eyes as the man knelt before him. That face—it was uncannily familiar—almost like his father’s but younger. He looked like a Black, that was certain, but no one he knew. He held the rim of a glass to Sirius’s lips.

“Drink,” he said.

The relief of water coating his dry mouth staved off the humiliation, but only until a few drops dribbled down his chin. When the man pulled away, Sirius felt the weight of sleep tug on him. He didn’t know if it was whatever the man had slipped in his drink earlier or if he was simply exhausted, but he couldn’t stop himself from slumping forward, his face falling in against the man’s chest. 

The shirt smelled like cigarettes. They’d both been smoking at the pub, he recalled. A hand trailed through his hair, the nails scraping gently across his scalp, and Sirius couldn’t help a release of air from escaping his lungs. 

“What d’you want?” Sirius murmured. 

The man’s touch was loving in its gentleness, stroking him with care as if soothing a small child after a bad dream. Sirius closed his eyes. The drug this man had slipped in his drink made him lazy and compliant in a way that would terrify him if he were sober, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“I’ve come to warn you,” the man said softly. “You’re about to be sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban.”

“What’re you talking about?” His thoughts were so slow, so sluggish. 

“You really don’t suspect him at all, do you?”

Sirius groaned, sinking into the man’s hold. The voice was deep. It lulled him into pliability. The ropes weren’t necessary to keep him in place. All he could do was think about the hand in his hair. 

“Remus,” muttered Sirius.

The man scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. Think, Sirius. Really think about it.”

“I—I dunno,” Sirius said. “What’d you give me, anyway?”

The man shoved him suddenly, and Sirius jerked awake. The man held him roughly by the ropes.

“Think, idiot,” he snapped. “You know exactly who I mean. You’re just too arrogant to consider he’s capable of betraying you lot.”

Sirius frowned. It was hard to remember his friends, let alone their names. James. Lily. Remus—

“Peter?” A laugh bubbled in his chest. “You think Peter’s got it in for us?”

Suddenly the man stood, clenching his fists and glowering down at Sirius. 

“Look at you,” the man said sneering. “Too conceited to think that anyone isn’t clever or charming could possibly outwit the great Sirius Black. Never stopped once to think that the little sycophant might turn around and stab you in the back. Never considered Peter would stop worshipping you long enough to whisper in Voldemort’s ear, did you?”

“Who are you?”

Yet as soon as the question fell clumsily from his mouth, it hovered between them, lingering like something ugly as if the truth were too obvious and too ridiculous to look at directly. Those pale eyes were so like Sirius’s. The man knew him—knew him too intimately, as if he’d crawled into his skin and lived as Sirius for a time. 

Sirius shut his eyes. No. No. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. 

“No…” Sirius moaned. “What’re you—what’ve you done?” He was slurring, but his mind was waking up. “You can’t do this—can’t change things—”

“Why not?” the man said mildly.

“Because…” Sirius let the 's' drag as he searched for an answer. “Because…you’re not supposed to change the past…”

“You know, I used to think the same thing,” admitted the man. “In fact, when I arrived here a few weeks ago, I did my best to stay hidden. I thought I could remain in the shadows—I’m good at that now—but I realized: I can’t go back. I don’t know how to go back. I think I must have died. I did try to return but there really is no way. So I thought, if I’ve been sent here, maybe I’m meant to stay.”

Sirius tore his eyes from the man’s face, understanding now that it was his own. The ropes were too tight. He tested them again. Was this future self here to kill him? Was he here to take over his body? 

Somehow, facing the man he would eventually become filled him with the sort of fear he should have felt when facing a fully-grown werewolf. The Sirius Black that towered over him was dangerous—perhaps even desperate. It had been wise of him to tie him up otherwise, Sirius would have killed him for being so stupid. He glowered up at the man.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the man said. “You’ve got no clue what the future looks like.”

Sirius sneered as his eyes flickered up and down the person who bore very little resemblance to himself. “I think I’ve got some idea. What do you want?”

“I only came here to warn you not to repeat my mistakes.”

“That can’t be all.”

The man shrugged. “Why not?”

“It’s selfish,” said Sirius. 

“A bit,” said the man. “But it’s not really about me—or us, rather. Although I don’t wish my past to become your future, your decisions in the coming weeks will destroy more lives than your own. By November, James and Lily will be dead, and Harry will be sent to live with Lily’s sister in Surrey.”

“You’re lying,” Sirius spat. “Who are you, really?”

But the man wasn’t interested in convincing him, and Sirius didn’t need him to anyway. He had already revealed enough—enough to change the future.

“Untie me,” Sirius demanded.

The other man lingered, staring at him with narrowed eyes. Then, without a word, he turned around and took several decisive steps to cross to the door. Sirius snarled at him to come back, but the man would not look at him. The man dropped the wand he’d been carrying on the floor, wrenched open the door, and disappeared as the door slammed behind him. The footsteps faded. 

Sirius snarled furiously, shouting after the man to release him, but the man did not return. 

It took ten minutes to inch across the flat towards his wand, and he was cursing his future self as he wriggled over the floorboards. But in those minutes, he was piecing together the warning, and realizing with dawning horror the gravity of his mistake. 

It’s Peter. It’s Peter. It’s Peter.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Don't Go Where I Can't Follow

Summary: Astarion and Tiriel break up for a few months. Set six years post-game and fourteen years ago before Alethaine is born.

Tags: hurt\comfort, angst, reconciliation, another episode of 'killing your abusers, soft smut TW: a mild description of a rape attempt, a conversation about SA

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion decides he’s had enough.

Three months. Three months since he fucked up. He fucked up so bad he isn’t going to forgive himself. 

He let Tiriel go.

The past year was difficult for both of them. Astarion decided she influenced his actions and thoughts too much and he started resenting her after noticing how many traits he’d picked up from her.

Mannerisms. Words. Ways of thinking.

He used to be a white sheet and Tiriel wrote his new personality.

Astarion would lash at her. Demanded she stop influencing his every decision or action.

They would yell at each other. A few times they even got physical, much like two drunk bugbears trying to release all the anger they had within.

Tiriel started avoiding Astarion. When he wanted to hug her, to kiss, to cuddle – she would deny him the pleasure of physical touch.

Then yet another fight. Cruel, heartless, mean, and acid.

Tiriel said she’d had enough. She didn’t want to see Astarion anymore.

Neither did he her.

For the first month, Astarion was happy. No one was manipulating his actions, and no one made important decisions for him.

He could be himself.

But then, he realized how big his dark tent was. How empty and silent his days were. How he tried to spend more and more time trancing only to relive memories of Tiriel.

It’s his fault he lost her.

Tiriel did so much for him and that’s how he repaid her? Calling her all possible slurs? Telling her to get lost?

Astarion has had enough. He needs to find Tiriel.

He loves her. It’s not about her giving him blood or sharing her warmth. If anything, he can always pay someone to feed on, to have sex and cuddle with after.

It’s not about that.

No one is like Tiriel. No one.

But how is he going to look for her? She could have gone anywhere! They are far from the Sword Coast, and the wilderness is familiar to her. Tiriel could go so far that Astarion will never find her.

Idiot, he told himself. Idiot.

Maybe she has already found someone else, someone who values her as much as she deserves.

Maybe, years later, he will meet her happily married and with kids and the only thing he will be able to do is to promise he’ll look after her progeny when she is gone.

Three days last like hell. Astarion feels like a bloodhound or a bounty hunter as he sniffs the air trying to catch her familiar scent.

This is ridiculous.  

He will never find her.

.. The town of Moranay greets him with seagull squeals and the reek of farms. Astarion covers his head with his hood – without Tiriel he has no idea how  “vampiric” his looks really are. This kingdom, Implitur, is so underdeveloped in comparison with any city-state of the Sword Coast! And these small towns… They would be considered disgustingly poor in the West!

No, it can’t be…

Astarion stirs up trying to catch the scent better. 

Yes. It’s her.

Tiriel was here a mere couple hours ago.

He looks around and notices a drunk man, half-elf to be precise, puking by the tree and completely wasted.

“What are you staring at?! Get lost!”

A few other adventurers, probably celebrating a successful hunt, are also heavily drunk, but Tiriel is nowhere to be seen. The corpse of a monster lies in the dirt, guts open. After hesitating, Astarion realizes it���s a barghest, a monstrous hound known for ripping sheep's throats.

There is only one inn in the town and the closer Astarion gets, the more anxious he becomes.

What if she isn’t alone. What if she doesn’t want to see him?

He approaches the door to the tavern. The invisible threshold fades when the innkeeper notices Astarion and invites him inside. The vampire goes upstairs.

There.

Astarion touches the doorknob.

Tiriels is fast asleep under a blanket and Astarion watches her with awe. So beautiful, so precious.

He wants to get close to her, but the invisible threshold doesn’t let him in. 

“Tiriel” He starts. “Tiriel, please…”

Tiriel opens her eyes and stares at him in shock for a brief moment. 

“Tiriel, please, I am sorry! I am so sorry!”

Tiriel sits up. Astarion thinks he will go and face the sun if she casts him away.

“Come here!” She smiles. “Took you long enough!”

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Astarion is already kneeling by her bed. He wraps his arms around her waist pressing his face into her stomach. Her heart is so loud it’s the only thing Astarion can hear. 

Tiriel runs her fingers along his hair and Astairon weeps.

He could have lost her. There was a chance he would never see her again.

Ever.

But she is here, with him, warm and soft. He won’t let her go anywhere. 

“Hush, my love,” Tiriel murmurs. “That’s all right, you are with me now.”

“Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to ask forgiveness for. We both needed a break.” She caresses his back, but the light armor he’s wearing prevents him from feeling anything. “I wanted to go looking for you, too. After… Well…Forget it.”

Astarion lets her go and sits beside her on the bed. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Tiriel turns away.

“Hey, do you realize three months is merely nothing for elves? I haven’t forgotten your body language. What happened?”

Tiriel suddenly pulls away as if embarrassed. 

“Two days ago I met a man. Half-elf, like me.  We chatted. He was nice. Kind. Funny. He came to my tent the next day, and I let him in.”

Astarion stirs and feels a wave of anger. So, she did find someone to replace him. Someone warm and alive. 

“Wait, let me finish,” Tiriel presses her legs against her chest. “The moment I took my shirt off I felt … off… Embarrassed? Disgusting? His hands were too warm, his body too sweaty. Maybe it was ale or the desire to hurt you for leaving me. I don’t know. But I didn’t want him close to me anymore. He wasn’t you. So, I told him to fuck off. I told him I had someone. That it was a mistake.”

Tiriel bites her lower lip.

“He got angry. All his sweet words were gone. It was the fury of a man who didn’t get what he wanted. Well… I am not a good fighter when I am naked. He hit me. Five or six times. He tried to rip the rest of my clothes off but finally, the rage kicked in and I beat the shit out of him.” 

Astarion stands up. His thoughts are a mess. He left Tiriel all alone. She decided to sleep with someone else but changed her mind. The rejected half-elf tried to rape her. 

“When I finally got rid of him and found another place to spend the night, I cried. I cried because of my shame, because of my own stupidity, because someone else saw me naked. After all, I allowed him to touch me. And then I got angry at you for abandoning me after everything I did for you. And after that, I was angry at myself for even thinking about you being in debt with me. So, I… Well… Let’s say I thought I had a dream when I saw you at my door.”

They are both quiet for a moment.

“What can I do for you?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel smiles. Stands up from the bed and takes her shirt off. In a few seconds, she is naked and he sees bruises mottling her skin.

“They are not from him. I fell from a roof yesterday chasing the beast. Well, maybe some of them are from him, but I got more bruised from the fall.” 

Astarion puts his hands on her waist.

“Do you … “ Astarion’s words are stuck in his throat. Is it the right moment? She is always so understanding with his issues and she literally said she had almost been assaulted.

“I missed you,” she says. “Missed your voice. Missed your passion. Missed your face,” she gently pushes him to the bed. “And besides, I had never let any man touch me before you and I am so ready to forget that asshole’s fingers on my skin.”

Tiriel unfastens his belt and the straps of his armor. Intrusive thoughts are immediately back awoken by a few months of loneliness.

Astarion used to be undressed in the same manner. Women and men he barely knew treated him like an inferior thing, existing only for their pleasure. Drunk and dirty, they were barely capable of realizing the person they’d hooked up with wasn’t even alive.

“Are you all right?” Tiriel asks. “Do you want to stop?”

Her voice returns him to the present moment.

Her nipples have hardened due to cold air and she looks vulnerable without armor. The upper part of her body is elven – narrow shoulders and thin hands. The bottom part is human, her legs are muscular and strong and her butt cheeks are round.

She is perfect.

He kisses her lips and then traces her neck with his tongue. Tiriel finally gets rid of his trousers and Astarion moans when her fingers run along his member.

The next moment, they are already one.

Tiriel wraps herself around him, her core hell-hot. Astarion rolls his hips and the half-elf moans right in his ear, touching his earlobe with her tongue.

“I am not letting you go any more,”  he says as his movements become rougher and rougher with every thrust. “I am not letting you go.”

Tiriel moans and squirms in his hands. Her mouth is pressed against the nape of his neck and with yet another thrust her teeth pierce his cold skin as if she wanted to draw his blood.

“Imagining being a vampire, darling?” He pulls her hair forcing Tiriel to see his face. “Eyes on me.”

She nods.

Be it because of the long absence or because he got too excited to see her, orgasm comes quickly. He feels as if he was thrown in boiling water that immediately got pleasantly warm and his mind completely shut itself down.

Tiriel gently releases herself and goes to pick up a piece of clean cloth to wipe his groin and the space between her legs. Once she’s done, she lies beside Astarion pressing his head against her chest.

“Tiriel.”

“Hm? Sorry, I still need a couple hours to sleep.”

“Please don’t leave anymore.”

“Sure,” she kisses his forehead. “But mind me, I have a sensitive soul, too!”

Soon, she is fast asleep in his arms and Atsairon relaxes.

Everything is going to be all right from now on.

Everything.

**

The following night, they leave Moranay and set on their path to the south. Astarion notices the half-elf he met the day before. Suddenly Tiriel’s heart beats faster and she grabs Astarion’s hand.

“It’s him, isn't he?” He hisses.

Tiriel nods.

Astarion feels rage filling his dead veins. She is so strong and fierce, but in the presence of her potential rapist, she is no different than any other woman of any race or any age.

Before the half-elf realizes anything, Astarion has already knocked him down. The bastard is strong but there is nothing he can do against a furious vampire.

“Fuck!” The man tries to set himself free. “Please, don’t kill me!”

Astarion bares his fangs, wishing his eyes glowed in the dark.

“I care only about one person in this world and you hurt her. Why should I show mercy?” Astarion murmurs enjoying the man’s fear. “I like when my prey fights back, it makes their blood sweeter.”

Tiriel finally composes herself and approaches Astarion. He notices an evil smile lurking on her face. 

“Where did he hit you?”

“Astarion…”

“Where?”

“Mostly my chest and stomach. Also tried to suffocate me.”

“Please… Please, Tiriel,” the man begs. “Tell him! I won't tell anyone! Please!”

Astarion looks at Tiriel.

“Up to you, darling. Just leave some blood for me.”

Tiriel crouches close to them. “I asked you to stop, too. And what did you tell me? You said that I was a slut and sluts like me exist only to satisfy men’s desires. Also, you told me about what happened to other women who dared to say ‘no’ to you. Why should I have mercy on you? Besides, when you date a vampire you certainly pick up bad traits. One of them is lack of forgiveness.”

Astarion stares at Tiriel. She's never talked like that before. She has always been too kind, too merciful…

He likes it when she is so mean.

Astarion smashes the man’s chest with his fist. Bones break with a delicious sound. The rapist wheezes as his lungs collapse. The scent of blood becomes unbearable and Astarion rips his throat.

Scared victims taste the best.

Astarion thinks that maybe he can let the man live after mutilating him so much he won't be able to hurt anyone anymore. Maybe he should castrate him and stuck his own testicles in his mouth.

But before the thought morphs into anything rational, the man is already dead.

Astarion releases the corpse and stands up. Blood lets him feel alive. Warm. Satiated. 

Happy.

Tiriel kisses his stained cheek.

At dawn, they both sit in their shared tent and Astarion suddenly realizes it’s rather small.

“A question,” Tiriel finally asks.

“Hm? 

“If he had managed to take me by force, what would you have done to him?”

“I would have flayed his skin slowly and painfully,” Astarion casually says. “And I wouldn’t have killed him. I would have hung him on the tree to meet his demise.”

Tiriel puts her head on his shoulder.

“And would you still want me after that?”

“I should be offended by this question.”

“But?” Tiriel gets dark. “Astarion, I ask this because this is important to me. He didn't assault me. I protected myself. But what if I didn't?”

Astarion turns away. The thought creeps into his mind. It could happen. It can happen. 

“Tiriel,” he whispers “I was raped and abused more times than I can count and I don’t remember a good chunk of it all. You never thought of me as dirty or unworthy. Why should I?”

“I don't know, maybe, because my ‘purity’ somehow has a different meaning.”

“Purity… I was a dirty whore for two centuries. You could choose anyone else but chose me to be your first. How would I even dare to see you lesser than you are if some pathetic excuse for a male took you without your consent? I know how it feels, Tiriel. I know what it is to be used. To be assaulted. Not to be able to protect yourself. To be degraded and humiliated. To be used by a few people at once. When you are a mere sack of meat and nothing more. You never asked me, but you knew from the start that… well… that cunt used me for his own pleasure in bed for a few decades before I finally became so dirty and filthy he decided to send me to the streets.”

“Sort of easy to guess. I’ve met a lot of women who were through similar shit.”

“And still wanted me, still loved me, still cared,” Astarion caresses her cheek. “What kind of person would I be if I resented you for a minor version of what happened to me?”

Tiriel kisses his fingers.

“You know, I sort of liked what you said back there.”

“What exactly?”

“That I am the only person you care about.”

“Well look at this, I’ve spoiled you!” Astarion laughs. “Back when we met you weren't that selfish.”

“I wasn't. You taught me to be.”

Astarion tugs her onto his lap and as they sit together he watches the sun coloring the woods in its light.

--- Tag List

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[imhidingonceagain]

Slimeriana and QSMP fans, we need to talk (really, I'm going to talk about a few things).

CW: nsfw

Warning: long post.

At this point I think majority of you guys know what happened with Mariana yesterday (especially because the fliporiana community is small compared to other ones).

I'm gonna write some stuff Mariana said and I'm gonna be explicit about it because I want you guys to understand the severity of the situation (this is your warning):

Context: He was curious to see if people actually posted nsfw stuff about him (and poor boy, he really thought he wouldn't find any).

And I quote what he said after seeing some posts: "No, no, no! Why's Slime penetrating me?!" (He was probably looking at a fanart)

"I'm not doing role like that with Slime anymore. I thought you guys found it funny (he was talking about the sex role in the QSMP) but it only fills your minds with shit"

"I'm gonna say it in English because I know there's QSMP fans who do it as well: Don't draw hentai about me, don't draw us fucking, that's being a pervert, that's wrong"

Some months ago I wrote a post when we got the first warning in regards of this topic.

Mariana and Slime have talked about fanart before and at the time they didn't seem uncomfortable about it (though it seems like Charlie's girlfriend was).

So I wrote: it's not necessary to stop doing fanart about them. Just be careful with what you draw and where you post it.

To me even "suggestive" fanarts are "okay" (but with suggestive I mean the characters looking at each other like they want to kiss each other so bad, that's it). But when and how did that translate to some of you thinking that drawing real people having sex and not only having sex (because there's always ways to show intercourse without being explicit or disgusting) but also showing private parts is okay?

Because it's obvious Mariana saw something super explicit by the way he reacted (because he doesn't get bothered too easily). My poor man was distressed!

And let me tell you something. This is not only about Mariana and Slimecicle. This is a REAL PROBLEM within the fandom. Let me give you some examples:

I love reading fanfiction and months ago I was scrolling through the QSMP section on AO3 and let me tell you something: the amount of fanfiction written about the eggs and their parents in a non platonic way is CONCERNING.

Especially Wilbur Soot's fandom seems to have a lot of rotten apples who think that writing abusive stories about q! Wilbur and Tallulah is fine.

I understand some people write stories like that not because they're crime apologists, but because that's their way to deal with trauma (and dealing with trauma through art is okay). But PLEASE remember that while the eggs are fictional, their "parents" are REAL people.

Use fictional characters, please. Stop writing real people into pedophilic or highly abusive situations. THAT'S HORRENDOUS.

Another example is the following: Some weeks ago people were reporting a Twitter account and I clicked on the account (I personally don't like reporting people without making sure they deserved) and it took me like three seconds of scrolling to see more than 5 Ccs being disrespected (including Slimecicle, Quackity, Cellbit, Roier and Badboyhalo). Explicit Pictures, videos and fanarts were being posted about these creators.

You know what I think? I think Cellbit made his character asexual not only for the representation (it's clear by now that q! Cellbit is a sex positive asexual which is still representation yay!) But because he has been on the internet since around 2011 and he knows how disrespectful people can be. I think he knew that his and Roier's ship was getting too popular and that makes them both unprotected to shit like this.

Sadly, it's clear that it didn't matter that Cellbit made his character asexual, people can't seem to respect that detail about his character and about himself as a real person.

To some people it doesn't matter if the Cc is ambiguous or completely clear about their boundaries, they still don't give a fuck.

Please remember that behind each character is a real person. I understand sometimes you guys want to see your favorite characters fuck -me too, honestly- but for people like streamers that's out of the questions because not only they're real people, but because their work is related to social media and the possibilities of them finding EVERYTHING we write and post about them are super high.

I don't know how to feel. It's obvious that Mariana has not been feeling the same about the server since Juanaflippa died. Maybe this will make him feel even worse about the QSMP but I hope I'm wrong.