#fic continuation

[yallthemwitches]

The Storm, The Aftermath

A smutty, fluffy continuation of my jilytober fic 'The Storm' ( Rated T: Link Here) though it is not necessary to read them together. Also a portion of this is based off a @blvnk-art comic which I posted previously.

NSFW Warning! AO3 Here

“James…” Lily watches him from the bed, his shoulders tight, hands moving flustered as they search for some unknown item of clothing. Even from behind she can tell he is trying to regulate his breathing.  “James,” she repeats, taking a small pause, “I wasn’t planning on needing anything to sleep in.”  She feels her whole face flush.. If implications were heavy before, all nuance is now thrown out into the storm. 

“If your mum or dad ask, we fell asleep working on the assignment,” Lily murmurs, a hand curling deep into his hair while the other brushes a thumb over his bottom lip. 

“Right…assignment.” He pushes their bodies flush together and propels them backwards towards the open door to his room. His teeth nip at her thumb, sending her nervous system rampant.

“We can say I suggested we keep at it—you know, since I had to stay the night anyhow.” Her voice turns into a sigh as James skims his teeth against her cheek, grazing to her chin with an open mouth.

“Had to,” he teases, eyes fighting to stay open. His hands find where her shirt allows entrance to the skin underneath and he presses in. 

“Plus,” she sighs at the feel of his rough hands on her back, “ I didn’t quite like the look of the guest bedroom anyhow—too sterile.” 

"Are you calling my room dirty, Evans? How rude.” 

Their bodies push their way into the open door. Despite the efforts of his hands to erase all thought, Lily can’t help but relish in entering his personal space. It’s a rarity—she has seen his four poster bed back at school in fleeting moments from before they started hooking up, but even then that was a shared living space, marked by other boys past and present. This was his territory, completely unfiltered by anyone but himself. 

He makes a small noise of dissent as she untangles herself to get a better look at the room: his broom leans against a much too large mahogany bed and the static eyes of The Beatles stare back from the walls while quidditch heroes zoom across posters. Books are stacked on the floor at the bedside and a large bay window opens out to the gardens next to the house, now darkened by the incoming storm.  

With a shot of confidence, Lily turns to give  him a coy smile before bounding over to the foot of the bed, taking a seat on the edge. James watches her go, barely capable of keeping his jaw from unhinging as his heart rattles in his chest.

“Nice room Potter.” She leans back on her hands. The bedding feels expensive, higher quality than the stuff at Hogwarts and certainly the ones she has back in her room in Cokeworth. She imagines James curled underneath it, lying awake before another day of messing around with Sirius or practicing quidditch out in the field which flanks the Potter Estate, maybe just maybe also thinking of her…

They watch each other for a moment, sizing up the scenario. The wind from the snowstorm rattles the window, serving as a gentle reminder that they aren’t suspended outside of reality. It has been months since they started snogging in secret, but it isn’t until this moment they have actually achieved true, comfortable solitude. 

It’s an understatement to say that James can feel the implications of her presence. His whole body is burdened by the fact— years of imagining her sitting exactly where she is now are catching up to him, mixing with all the other fantasies that include words such as Lily, bed, and alone. She watches him with a smirk as he fiddles with the ends of his hair, shifting his weight to hide the feeling of arousal taking over despite his best efforts. 

“Uh…let me find you something to sleep in–” he says, becoming red around the cheeks. He turns towards an ornate dresser against the side wall and rips open a drawer, sticking his hand in to fish through the fabric before closing it and repeating with another. 

“James…” Lily watches him from the bed, his shoulders tight, hands moving flustered as they search for some unknown item of clothing. Even from behind she can tell he is trying to regulate his breathing. 

“James,” she repeats, taking a small pause, “I wasn’t planning on needing anything to sleep in.” 

She feels her whole face flush. If implications were heavy before, all nuance is now thrown out into the storm. 

“Oh?” His hands tighten around the knobs. The wood groans underneath and he grips onto it as though it is the only thing holding him back from lunging at her. He turns around slowly, eyes burning with something feral and raw.

“Yeah.” 

Her thoughts scramble as he takes slow steps towards her and she knows she is too close already to drowning in him. The smell of his room, the feel of his bed, him looking at her with that stare and hands capable of completely unwinding her—she doesn’t want to give in. She was the one who planned this all out, not him. She can’t let him take over so easily. 

He stands in front of her and lets his fingers skim across the tops of her shoulders, eyes searching her face. She takes a breath, mustering months worth of desire into one single moment of bravery. She reaches for his belt. 

It isn’t something they haven’t done before, but it feels reckless out of the context of fumbling moments in broom closets. James lets out a strained breath, eyes fluttering closed with his fingers now pressing into her shoulders, willing her to not move from against him. 

“Is this ok?” 

He responds with a groan as her other hand slides over the bulge that appeared long before they had entered the room. She can feel how turned on he is already, and it occurs to her that this is the first time they have ever been able to fully explore each other with the patience and dedication they deserve. 

“More than ok—-eons better than ok.” His eyes are glassy and wide, watching her like someone in the midst of sleepwalking. 

“And you don’t think your parents will—”

“Evans.” James groans out, “Can we not talk about my parents at a time like this.” He makes a small choking sound when her hand adds more pressure. “They never come over to this part of the house anyways.”

It isn’t the most satisfying answer, but she is in no state to complain. Moving her fingers around him, she feels every hard line of his erection straining into the fabric. She stares up at him with wonder as his face changes with her movements, his heart visibility erratic. She has to admit, it feels powerful to be like this—to watch as his jaw drops open and breath goes ragged and deep just by her fingers on trousers alone. 

“I have to admit something to you,” she murmurs, her other hand still working on his belt, “I didn’t want to come to your house just for the assignment.”

He lets out a strangled laugh and tries to help her with his belt but she swats him away. 

“I figured when you lied to our parents about needing to stay over,” he mumbles, eyes fighting to stay open. “Though I’m very interested in what excuse you would have come up with if there hadn’t already been a storm coming–”

His breath hitches as she gets his belt and pants undone, hand now edging around the waistband of his underpants.

“That's the thing-” his skin feels scorching under her hand as it dips farther down, slowly crawling to the base of his erection, “I planned to come today, because of the storm.”

She wraps her palm around him and he hisses, body arching forward as she gives him a small tug. They have only done this a number of times, but he always reacts in the same way: like his soul is leaving his body for some greater plane of consciousness. 

“Didn’t realize you had it in you,” he groans out, hands finding her neck and thumbs rubbing circles there.

“What?”

“Mischief.”

She pumps up his length and he lets out a soft string of swear words. 

“What can I say, you’ve been a bad influence.”

She lets him go and he gasps in disappointment. Flashing a smile, she pushes herself farther up the bed until she reaches the headboard. He crawls after her, reaching her legs and pulling them apart at the knees, easily flipping up the skirt that has pooled down by her waist. Looking up at her through skewed glasses, he begins dotting kisses into her inner thigh, each one more lavish than the next. 

“So what did you plan to do Miss Evans? Seeing as this is all your orchestration?”

She doesn’t answer, instead melting under the heat of his mouth. He is relentless, giving open kisses up her thighs, letting his tongue slide over her skin as he goes. She isn’t used to being able to watch him do it—more attuned to the dark shadows of shifting bodies against boxes of cleaning supplies. Here, she can clearly watch every movement, finally putting a visual to the sensation.

“Sleep, I suppose.” She finally gasps out and he chuckles against her thigh, sending a shiver up her body.

“I think we’re past the point of sleeping, Evans.”

He’s moving painfully slow, but she tries to savor it. His mouth nipping and teasing as he gets closer to the apex of her legs. It’s the one thing she yearns for more than anything else they have already done: his mouth on her center. The first time he ever did it, he fell to his knees as though in prayer in an empty classroom and she thought she was going to explode from the feeling—his mouth, his tongue, his fingers moving in complete synchronicity against her. Ever since, she didn’t care if they had five minutes to spare or if Filch was just around the corner— she wanted him between her legs, making her whimper by the softness of his tongue. She wants it so much and so often that it worries her to think that she will feel just as insatiable about another part of his body when the time comes. 

“Is this ok?” He breathes into her inner thigh. Both of them can see the result of desire pooling between her legs and James stares shamelessly, wonder etched across his face. 

“Merlin— you are so wet…because of me?”  

“Don’t be arrogant.” Her voice turns into a moan as he bites down against the uppermost part of her thigh before licking over it to ease any pain. The newfound sight of her arousal awakens an urgency in him and his hands and mouth are moving more erratic against her, trying to take as much of her in as he possibly can.

“Lily, you have no idea. No idea how many nights I’ve thought of you in this bed.”

She can’t help but giggle at the teenage lust of it all. It’s not like she is any better—before they started hooking up she would wake up with her hand already between her legs, body covered in sweat as she broke from the dream of his mouth crawling its way around her chest. 

“Is it better or worse than you imagined?” She quips and his mouth stills. She looks down to catch his gaze burning up at her, a hand hovering dangerously close to her center.

“Don’t even joke Evans.” 

She plans to make another cheeky remark but it’s cut short by his mouth making contact with her knickers. He kisses her through the wet fabric, running his tongue into the grooves of her flesh that he already knows so well. Her back arches for him instinctively and he uses it as leverage to hold her body in a hovered state, fingers circling at the top of her ass. 

“Christ Potter.” She can feel him smile against her as he continues his ministrations, teeth pulling back the side of her knickers and slipping his tongue onto slick skin. The feel of his raw mouth makes her gasp and he lets out a small chuckle, pleased he is capable of making her react so viscerally. 

“You are so lovely, so lovely .” He’s breathing straight inside her and his air makes her body feel feverish. “I don’t know how I deserve you, but I will never never let you go if I can help it.”

A finger slides into her and it takes everything to not let her head fall completely back. She doesn’t want to look away—completely mesmerized by how his tongue works her clit while his fingers twist inside her. He adds another finger and she lets out a cry, happy that his parents are presumably on the other side of the house. 

“James, wait, I—” The feeling builds faster than she can fight it. With one last lick, she is sent over the edge, grasping onto his hair and her legs squeeze around him.

“Oh fuck—Lily—” his eyes are wide, watching as she shudders through the last of her climax. She pulls at his shoulders and he rises back up, wiping his mouth with his shirt. 

“That was incredible—Lily, you taste…I can’t even describe it—” He genuinely looks dumbstruck, sitting beside her. 

She watches him catch his breath, a hand caressing his leg slowly as he smiles back at her. It’s the place they usually stop: where one of both of them is sated by a mouth or a hand before they put their clothes back on and go their separate ways. But tonight, they have nowhere to run off to, no reason to leave things just short of full completion. 

“Lily—” He starts in, but she is already ahead of him. Sitting up, she pulls her jumper over her head and the rush of cold hits her bare breasts. Anything he was about to say gets stuck in his throat at the sight of her.

“Dear sweet Godric–” he breathes out, eyes jumping from one breast to the other.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen them plenty of times.”

“But I haven’t,” James gives her an incredulous stare, “Between my glasses and the near black of those bloody closets, I might as well be experiencing this for the first time.”

“Well—” Lily stammers, “Seeing as you just, you know, licked me out , my tits are hardly something to—”

James lunges at her, knocking her fully back on the bed. He slots himself between her legs and she can feel his arousal pressing through the fabric and into her waist. 

“Don’t you ever, ever undermine your body like that,” he growls out. A hand slides from her cheek, down her neck, to her clavicle, circling just under one of her breasts but not making contact. 

“Can I—”

“Touch them? Yes.” Lily cuts him off. She’s surprised he is even asking, seeing as he has done it hundreds of times before. 

“No—can I take off my clothes too?” 

Another wave of vulnerability enters the room. They have seen each other in various levels of undress, but never fully and never together .

“I don’t want to push anything—and I know we agreed that this is all just for a laugh, but I just—” He lets his voice get away from him, insecurity getting the best of his thoughts. 

“Is that what you think?” she says quietly, “That I came here, lied to your parents and mine…for a laugh?”

James makes a coughing sound, eyes darting around her face, waiting for an elaboration. 

“You’re right, I have worries about telling our mates for various reasons–” He opens his mouth to interrupt her, but she silences him with a hand on his mouth.

“-But that doesn’t mean that this isn’t real for me. That I don’t want you just as much as you want me.”

He looks down at her, feelings shifting on his face faster than she can read them. 

“Lily, I really fancy you,” he whispers, strained. “And if—if we do something, y’know more , I don’t know if I’ll be able to go back.”

She reaches her hands up to his cheeks and rests them there, fingers catching falling hair out of his face. 

“You say that like I don’t feel the same way,” her pulse quickens, “you say that like you don’t already know that I don’t want to go back.”

His eyes blaze raw and hopeful, and she feels the blood rush through her body, giving her the bravery she needs to move her hands back to his unbuttoned trousers and tug them down. His lips crash onto hers, and she can feel the hard line of his body pressing into her chest as he cups her face with one hand and helps ease his pants off with another. Just as quick, he removes his shirt, letting their bare chests slide together, his skin burning. 

“Lily, Lily, Lily.” He says her name like a lullaby, kissing down the column of her neck until he reaches one of her breasts. Taking her nipple into his mouth, she arches up as his tongue swirls around it, him somehow finding new ways for her to feel impossibly good. 

She can’t get enough of him, the feverish heat of his skin, the sturdy pulse of his body. She knows she is breathing yet it feels like there is not enough air for the two of them, the sound of the storm just adding to the fervent nature of their movements. He is as close to her as he has ever been, but she wants him closer still . 

Pulling off of her slightly, he dips a hand down to unbutton her skirt, pulling it and her knickers down with a tug. Now completely nude, he rises up to look at her, his eyes brimming with awe.

“You are so beautiful.” 

It’s something she’s seen people say in movies, but she can tell the words hold all the sincerity in the world. His eyes are wide, trying to commit every part of her to memory, hand lightly grazing her hip as he takes her in. Satisfied, he drops down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss, a smile evident on his lips. 

“Lily, I meant it, he gasps out when he breaks for air, “What I said earlier—I don’t want anyone else. I never want to lose you.”

“I know,” she breathes against his lips, “good thing you aren’t losing me.”

He closes in for another kiss, his lips soft but urgent, tongue begging to twist with hers. Through the haze she senses some shuffling at their waists until she can feel the bare skin of his arousal pressing in against her, warm and throbbing.

“Wait, I want to see you too.”

She wiggles her way out from under him and he obliges, falling onto his back. It’s her turn to regard him—she thought she knew his body so well already but in the light it takes on a whole new meaning. He is muscular yet slim, something she always thought made him look so effortlessly fit in comparison to his bulking teammates, and she holds back a gasp when she finally sees his cock, hard and erect with the smallest bit of liquid crowning at the tip. 

“I did that?” She says, knowing how childish it sounds.

“Look who is arrogant now,” James teases, squeezing her thigh, “You’re killing me, Evans. C’mere.”

She puts a leg over his hips and settles down against him. His cock slides easily into her folds and both of them hum in approval, now realizing how much better it feels without the barrier of clothes. 

“Are you sure?” 

She doesn’t need to respond, instead rolling her hips forward until she can feel his tip lining up with her entrance. His head falls back, but his eyes refuse to leave hers, the question still hanging between them. 

“Let me lead,” she says, not waiting another second to slide herself onto him. 

A gasp escapes as her body stretches around him, learning to accommodate the new sensation. She stalls, rocking her hips slightly to let the smallest bit of him slide in and out of her, testing the waters before daring to continue further. He grabs onto her thighs, following her rhythm as she moves back and forth, eyes wild and adoring. Deep sighs leave his throat with each small movement, reassuring her to keep going. 

They continue like this until she has pushed him fully inside and their bottom halves connect. Her hips move more languorously now, waving up and down the length of him in steady movements. Her mouth hangs open, trying to take full breaths between the noises that keep pouring out of her mouth with every thrust. 

“James— Christ.”

He leans upwards and takes one of her breasts into his mouth, and she cries from the over stimulation of it all. It feels better than anything she could ever imagine—not even the added pleasures of all their cupboard trysts would equate to the sensation occurring at that moment. They are utterly complete, moving as one. 

James grabs hold of her torso and carefully flips them over without slipping out of her. Now with the upperhand, he is able to press deeper, hitting a ball of nerves tucked deep inside her that makes her stomach clench in ecstasy. 

When he is not moaning hot kisses into her breasts or neck, he is watching her—keeping a steady gaze on her face to make sure that she is enjoying every single moment as much as he is. Strings of words chant out of his mouth—some affirmations, some swears, some just her name over and over until it sounds like a foreign language. 

“Lily, I won’t last much longer, I want you to come for me.”

It’s instinctual. She reaches one hand between her legs to rub the tip of her clit while the other cups the curve of her breast, jutting it outwards as an offering to his mouth. His eyes grow impossibly wider, ducking down to take her tit between his teeth. 

Her second climax is more violent than the first. She can feel herself squeezing around him, her whole body seizing up until it feels like a rubber band in mid snap. He holds her against him, mouth breathing onto her chest as he continues his rhythm through her release. 

“So beautiful, so good, Godric Lily, I can feel it.”

It sends him over the edge. His hips snap forward, now erratic and urgent. Slick with the sweat of her climax, she grabs both of his cheeks and forces him to look at her. His eyes drowning in desire and anticipation. 

“Come for me James—you can come inside me, it's ok.”

“Lily—” He looks unsure, but he’s losing time. She can feel his body quivering over her. 

“I took the potion, I want you to come inside me. Please James.”

“ Lily—-ah.” She feels his release instantaneously. She remarks that it’s weirdly warm and comforting despite it being such a carnal act. 

With a sigh, he collapses on her, hands dancing across her collar bone as he catches his breath into her shoulder. 

“Incredible. You’re just—” he doesn’t finish his thought, opting to press his lips gently into her neck. 

She wraps her arms around him. He’s sweaty and heaving and hers. She had never felt like that about him before even in their most intimate moments, but now it is solidified, maybe not in words but in action. 

Snow makes pattering noises against the windowpane, the wind too slow to dust it off before another blanket appears. They lay in each other’s arms, feeling their heart beats go from wild to steady, hands lazily tracing the other’s skin until they halt into calm. 

“Are you sleeping now?” He whispers into the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling into her skin. 

“Not yet,” she smiles, a laugh already bubbling up, “Why? You keen on working on that Charms assignment?”

James laughs and the sound cuts through the night air. 

“Not quite.” He raises himself to hover back over her, mouth skimming hers. 

“But I am keen on working on something else.” 

~  ~  ~ 

She awakes exactly how she fell asleep, tangled up in him. At some point in the night he had pulled the blankets over them, and their bodies radiated heat. Her face is pushed into his chest, and one leg is hitched up against his thigh, his fingers contracting in sleep against her ass. 

He must have taken off his glasses at some point in the night, because when she looks up at him, his eyes are unobscured. He has eyelashes much longer than she imagined and his hair falls in unruly tangles around his face. A warmth rises in her chest as she watches his mouth hang slightly open and a moan drift out. 

She doesn’t want it to end. They might be melded together now, but their time is coming to a close—soon she will have to go back to Cokeworth, Sirius will return from his uncle’s, and he will stay in this room with only the memory to keep him company.

They need to talk about what will happen when they return back to Hogwarts, but she lets the thought drift away as he stirs. Blinking his eyes open to look down at her, a lazy, irresistible smile pulls at his lips. 

“Morning.” 

“Morning,” she echoes, giggling at the absurdity of it all. “How did you sleep?”

He leans in and gives a kiss to her forehead, his arm tightening to keep her leg from unwinding around him. 

“Brilliant because you are here…but terribly because every time I woke up I was randy for you all over again.”

She knows he isn’t lying, she can feel the proof of it pressing into her pelvis. 

“Poor you,” she teases. “Sounds like you should do something about it.” She gives him a smile and his face goes alight with happiness. He rolls them over so he is back over her, their lips pressing together with already panting kisses. 

“JAMES DARLING! BREAKFAST IS READY!”

He doesn’t stall, his hand already teasing at her breast and Lily gasping into his mouth. 

“JAMES! YOU AND LILY CAN’T ROLL AROUND ALL DAY— BESIDES I’VE MADE THE POTTER SPECIAL...”

James' eyes rip open and they share a mutual look of embarrassment and horror. Lily can feel her whole body turning red, burrowing her face into his chest. 

“Er—Thanks Dad.” James calls out, voice cracking a little. He looks down at her and lightly brushes some knotted hair out of her eyes. 

“The Potter Special?”

“You’re going to love it,” he pulls her chin up and gives her a soft kiss on the mouth, eyes still dreamy. 

“Before we face death by utter embarrassment at the hands of my parents, can we—”

She threads her hands in his hair, an act now as familiar as blinking.

“I’m not going anywhere, Potter.”

His face nearly breaks in two from a grin and he swoops down to catch her in a fierce, desperate kiss. Around them the room spins, and everything beyond the bed starts to melt away again.  

“Fuck it—I’m not hungry,” he gasps when they part to catch their breaths. Lily's laugh transforms into a moan, feeling his body already lining up against hers. 

“Me either,” she sighs. He presses into her she tugs him closer, savoring him for as long as possible.

 “It can wait.”

[perceivedregret]

can't believe there's more lore

here's pt 3 of so it goes, my steddie focused (we'll get there, i stg) supernatural creatures au that, as of right now, features vampire!steve, werewolf!nancy, witch!robin, and last but not least, werewolf!max. can be found on my ao3, user is the same over there. [tumblr links for part 1 & part 2]

murder will out

If this were a cartoon, Steve probably would have worn the rug down to the wood floors with all his pacing. Robin says as much under her breath and he waves her off, his focus on Hopper. 

"I don’t understand, why can’t we just go back to my place? We were doing fine before, just let us go back.”

Hopper sighs, sinking as far into the couch as it allows, eyes trained on the fan whirling overhead. “I’ve already explained this– you guys were seen . I wouldn't call that doing just fine . Ms Driscoll called the station nearly in tears. The poor woman thought she was losing her mind to early dementia because she saw some dead kids hanging out by the pool of the Harrington house.”

Steve scoffs, runs his fingers through his hair, hand settling on the back of his neck. “ So ? We fixed it aleady, I did the mind compulsive–"

" Compulsion ," Dustin coughs in correction.

"– that , and she, like, forgot that she saw us. We’ll be more careful this time around! We won’t step out of the house, we don’t have to flee the state over this. I don’t, fuck, I don’t get what the big deal is.”

“The big deal?” Hopper’s head snaps forward. “Harrington, for one, you can’t scramble the entire town with your mind thing, it’s not practical. You're damn lucky I was the one to respond to the call last week. We also don’t know the true extent of your power. Other than Carver and Holloway who've gone AWOL with Henry and the rest of them, you're the first vampire this town has come across. If it's a common thing amongst your kind, the Suits aren't sharing that information with us. We're lucky they even shared how to somewhat keep this town safe after their own screw up that allowed all of this to happen in the first place."

'You mean the reason it's been almost impossible to feed the last few months? There’s only so many blood bags they supply at the hospital and I feel like a dick having to steal it. What if they run out and someone needs it?”

Dustin hums, brows pulling tightly together. “Wait. Steve, have you been going without feeding?" When Steve rolls his eyes Dustin tosses a half eaten pringle at him, but it clatters against the wall. "Don't be an idiot, you know you can always get a drink from–”

“Shut up, no, I wouldn’t ever do that to you Henderson, for one. I know you and Miss America like to say the four of us have bled together or whatever, and thanks for the offer, but no, absolutely not. Robs isn't even allowed to think it. Besides, even if I wanted to, that shit’s already in your system. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for some of us to even shower ?”

“It’s a protective measure. It’s no different than when we added fluoride to the water,” Hopper sighs.

Max scoffs. “Right well, do us all a favor, yea, and tell them to shove their Hawthorne and Wolfbanes up their–"

“ That’s the weird taste in water? I thought I was going crazy,” Dustin mutters, falling into the couch between Hopper and Max. His eyes glaze over for a moment, turning to face her, sniffing the air. “Wait, you guys can’t shower?” Max huffs, hiding behind her comic.

Hopper groans in annoyance, shuffling to the side to provide space between them, but it isn't much. "I know you didn’t ask for this life, but we have to keep this town safe from the supernatural. Unfortunately, that included keeping them safe from you. All of you.”

A breeze whips through, nipping at the end of Nancy’s skirt, flowing across the room and brushing through Steve’s hair. “ Seriously ,” Robin hisses, having reached out instinctively. Hopper’s gaze bounces between the two. Nancy doesn’t respond to his comment, the grip on her knees turning her knuckles white. Steve only pinches the bridge of his nose, the rug still in danger of being worn down.

“I’m not judging any of you for your past, no one’s perfect, but let’s be honest with ourselves here. Your kind, both kinds, can be… well you guys already know. Besides all that, what if someone catches one of you and they call the station and it's not me responding to it? Hm, what if it gets out that this town is infested with vampires and werewolves? Or witches? And on top of that, we still don't know why Heather turned you or why Carol bit Nancy. Billy biting Max, we can only guess. We don’t know anything that really goddamn matters here."

"I fucking know why Billy did this to me,” Max grumbles, the red only Steve and Nancy have the ability to catch flashing across her eyes once again. She flips the page of her comic, a tear of a page ringing throughout the room, making Dustin wince.

“Regardless. I know this shit has been your life for only the last couple of years, but try twelve years of it. El had already been bounced around between four other families before she got to me. Five years old and so full of power she had no control over. All those other families chalked it up to bad behavior but after reading up on her file with Joyce, we could see around it, around the bullshit. Speaking of–

“ You .” He points to Robin and she shrinks in on herself, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. “You made yourself into a witch. You weren’t born into it the way my girl was. I know you think you’re capable of anything, but saying a few words in Latin in the correct order every once in a while isn’t enough. You were able to make those fancy rings and bracelets for everyone here to survive out in the sun or curb some of the effects of the full moon but that's child's play compared to what you tried to do."

"That shit was so not easy. I had to fill in my eyebrows and stack layers of mascara for weeks," Robin mutters, fingers brushing faintly over the faded electrical burn scars that trace along the back of her hands towards her wrist, branching away from where they originate from her nail beds. “Surprised I only lost two nails.”

" Regardless . You needed way more time, more practice. You don’t know what you’re capable of, not yet, but those four months that you had before the attack wasn’t enough time to learn what you needed to break Henry's sire control. And you were all –” he waves his finger at everyone, “–stupid for thinking you could. Especially alone.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Six months later, now he wants to lecture us? Sure, bucko.”

Hopper shakes his head, eyes falling closed before he continues. “Harrington, as for the house, your father is in the process of selling the property. Alright, he apparently listed it a week after that night and he finally has a buyer ready to negotiate. Considering what a fuckin’ shit show this towns become ever since Henry and the rest of them blew through town, I don’t think he’s gonna get a very good deal."

At that Steve finally stops his pacing. He shuffles over to the recliner Robin occupies and falls heavily on the floor in the space in front of her, head falling back against her knees. "I knew this was coming, I don't even know why I'm surprised. He said I was as good as dead since I turned. Being officially dead gives him no reason to stay in Hawkins… he’s got no one." Hopper gives Steve’s sneaker a tap with his own boot, the sorry kid translating well enough.

The blows keep coming.

"Then there’s the goddamn Suits. After this whole thing with Ms Driscoll they’ve decided it’s best to get you all out of town. And, quite frankly, especially after today's news? I agree. Agent Stinson has stated they have no intentions of helping supply you three with new identities or a place to stay unless you guys leave.”

“New identities?” Robin scoffs, fingers freezing in Steve's hair. "They could have left us with ours! If they didn’t declare us dead there wouldn’t be a need for new identities, did those dipshits ever think of that?” Robin crosses her arms, hands balling into fists. A bulb from above bursts, but barely anyone flinches except for Dustin. 

Hopper only exhales forcefully from his nose, already used to outbursts turning into broken objects. Over so many talks , El’s broken her fair share of bulbs, plates– even the living room’s coffee table. There's a reason this cabin is so unfurnished.

He lifts his hand, like a reluctant student in class. “I'm the one who suggested we pronounce you all dead, Buckley. Not them."

"Why?"

Everyone's eyes fall on Nancy as she utters the first words since Hopper arrived. If their full undivided attention bothers her, she doesn't show it. Hopper meets her gaze, and suddenly he's years older. Exhausted.

"The Byers kid had a vision."

"Wait, he has powers? Since when? Was it big Byers or little Byers?" Steve interrupts, brows low. Hopper's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t continue, just keeps his focus on Nancy. Steve turns his attention to her, eyebrows shooting up. “You knew about this?”

"It wasn't for any of us to tell," Nancy says between her teeth. She mirrors Hop, gaze unwavering and her lips form a tight line. He only raises a brow.

 "Jon can’t see into the future,” she finally supplies, arms crossing over her chest. “He can only catch glimpses from the past. He says they’re like snapshots. Moments in time that he can see, and sometimes he can step into it and explore, but it gets blurry after a while. He can't look into someone's past without a personal belonging or picture of the person he's trying to see.

"Will is the one who can see into the future, except it’s never clear. Jonathan explained it’s like looking through a kaleidoscope for him. If he tries to look too long he ends up with a migraine. It’s why he’s always painting– it’s his way of trying to decipher his visions.”

“It’s the reason Joyce was so helpful when El came into my life. Eventually our lives.” Hopper's face softens for the first time since he sat down and started delivering bad news. It’s short lived because he’s looking around the room with his signature death stare, finger raised in warning. “Stinson and the rest of them don’t know anything about our kids and we’d like to keep it that way. What was just shared about them, that doesn't leave this room.”

"Am I really the only one without powers now that Max has chompers? What the hell man, that's so unfair," Dustin groans, throwing his head back with an annoyed grumble that sounds gargled in his position. "Mike has his empathy thing–"

"Little Wheeler's got what? " Steve and Robin say in unison. It feels like he just got slapped in the face because how the hell have they not said anything these last few months, no, years ? Nancy buries her face in her hand.

“Mike can sense emotions and sometimes change them, it's been a thing. Except– he can't feel love, or something. He can feel it in himself, he just can't sense it from others or force it on them. Keep up, Steve." He turns to Max. "Lucas still hasn't shown symptoms from the bite, has he?”

“My boyfriend is still nice and human, just a scar, thanks for asking.” Her smile immediately melts. “But if I ever see Billy again, I'm going to run him over with his own stupid car for what he tried to do to him, I swear to god." 

“Just us then,” Dustin beems, shoving two stacks of pringles into his mouth, the pieces flipped onto each other so it forms an open beak.

Max tilts her head, considering him. "I don’t know… I think being super annoying could be your thing. I just don't know if we can count it." She pats his shoulder, lips pouting in mock sorrow. "Hate to break it to you, but I think you’re just going to have to settle for being a lame dork."

"Would you two please ," Robin mutters, flicking a finger out into the open air in her lap, forcing Max and Dustin into a seated upright position. The sudden movement sends the can of chips rolling across the floor, their hands clasped in their laps and suddenly stiff as boards. "I don't know who's worse together; you and him, or him and Erica."

"Everybody, shut. The hell . Up." Nancy's voice is nearly a growl. "Because our beloved Sheriff Jim Hopper here has yet to tell us–" She leans forward, elbows on her knees,  "–what the hell Will saw. Because, quite honestly, I can’t think of a single thing that he could have possibly seen for you to think it was a good idea to declare us dead.”

Hopper takes a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he finally says it.

“Will saw you three die.”

A beat.

And then they're all speaking over each other.

-------

there's more to this part, so catch the rest of it on my ao3

[ask-but-beware-the-consequences]

A few days have passed only since he got back into Heaven, but he couldn't help but notice a small signal coming from the Earth globe. From a place he knew all too well.

He thought "you can handle it", after all he didn't even begin to see through how much he can do to change the place.

After more days, his duties started to pile up on him, seemingly without end. Yet, he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing or not.

His training began slowly too, he realised giving out orders as strictly as archangels have to wasn't his strength.

The little signal was still flashing before him, everytime he went past it. It started to feel familiar. Like a constant, that he was still around and bothering to bother him.

He wanted to check it out sooner or later, but the kiss was still so recent, he didn't know if he had the strength to face him already. He sometimes tried to think what could be the problem, and how he left could have felt to Crowley. But, he was a demon, surely it can't be too bad, right? When he fell he was casted down to forever crave a light that he cannot found, like every other individual. Must have been an awful feeling to have it just ripped out of you, Aziraphale thought. But he seemed to be doing alright, everytime they met, he was being his usual self, saving children and animals from God's wrath. Crowley was happy when he saw him. He never really got to know what he was like when he wasn't around, now that he thinks about it.

Having a small check on him through the globe couldn't hurt, he thought as he was approaching the globe, but before he could see anything Michael and the other archangels showed up to drag him away with news that needed to be disgussed. Nothing about the little signal though.

A new week has passed and now Aziraphale was truly on edge, he didn't care about that damn kiss anymore he just wanted to see what's wrong with his friend, everything he has done so far upstairs was either accepted or declined, but never a normal argument about the reasons. With all the human knowledge he had earned while being on Earth, angels didn't always made sense to him, it was like they were lacking something, maybe not morality, or maybe it was that afterall. Teaching them sometimes was in vain.

Muriel soon decided to go up too and visit the angel, it was fun to observe him.

- Mr. Fell! Oh you, changed?

- Muriel, my dear! How are things? It's good to see you, but why are you here? Oh, yes, I've been promoted. I'm with the archangels now, and I can assure you, everything will be better this time!

- Oh, Mr. Fell, you're very nice, but this is Heaven! It's always been good here.

- But dear, what about your bosses being mean to you?

- Well, it's hard, but I must have earned that, certainly. Not a problem, I'm always improving! I hope...

- Ah, dear...

- Is something wrong, Mr. Fell?

- You know, using 'mister' here, doesn't have any meaning, so it's useless. Just call me Aziraphale.

- Oh, alright. Sorry Mr. Fell... Oh! Azira Phale.

- ... Ah, just... I promised that I would make this place better.

- I'm sure you're doing a good job!

- No, no, dear. It needs to be so good that even a demon would want to join back!

- But... They do?

- No, they don't, Muriel-

- This used to be every demon's home too. They are always looking for the light, of which we have plenty. Down there... it must be the opposite.

- No, it's...

- Aziraphale. You want to change this place to be a common ground?

- No! Of course not! I just thought that, I could tempt others to want to join back!

- Tempt? Don't be silly Mr. Fell! You're an angel you can't tempt people. Whatever you do.

- But-... Then him-

- Is it about the grumpy demon?

- He's not grumpy, he just doesn't trust most.

- Well, he was to me. He never pays attention unless I'm saying something important. He might be nice sometimes, but it feels more like he's doing it for someone else.

- ...Erm.

This hit Aziraphale unexpectingly. He just thought he was being good because he still had something in him from Heaven, and he was truly just mistreated.

- Something's wrong?

- It was... all because of me?

- What do you mean? He's a demon, it's only normal for him to be cold. Was he... nice to you before?

- I-... I'm sorry Muriel, I can't, I can't... Where's Crowley?

He turned away to get to the globe, but Muriel followed him.

- Oh, yes, I passed by him.

He stopped in his steps to turn sharply.

- You did? Did he say something?

- Well, He rather passed by Me. He's constantly in or around your bookshop lately. He never says a thing, but he forbid me to say anything to him too. I just hang around sometimes, it feels more like it's his bookshop now, not mine. Always yelling if I try to change something.

Aziraphale could feel his heart throb in his throat, sadness squezing it tight enough just to fit.

- That's also why I'm here, I wanted to ask if I can have a seperate embassy?

- Of-...I'll rathe-... We'll talk about it later, alright?

He continued to hurry towards the globe, Muriel had no more news to tell him but still went along.

Suddenly, a blue alert just went off which only urged him more. At the globe Michael and the others were already there, looking into the alert.

- Aziraphale, you chose to look out for this Earth globe alone, did you have to let it go to an alerting state?

Michael's voice was demanding, but she visibly wasn't not upset.

- Sorry, I was just about to get to it.

- At least this doesn't have an alarm noise. Yet. I'll let you choose it, later. Now we need to see to the problem. Aziraphale, send someone down to solve whatever it is!

Saraquel was already zooming in.

- Familiar place, isn't it Aziraphale?

- It's...

- Looks like rain didn't stop falling for a suspicous amount of time by now. The streets are full of water. Like rivers.

- That... It shouldn't be that much, not even in England. Can you, ah, let me zoom out.

As he got to it, he saw Crowley on top of his shop's rooftop. Just sitting, drenched in rainwater, not bothering to go for cover.

Aziraphale miracled a standing umbrella to cover him. Stylish as ever.

- I'm going down myself. I doubt there's anybody else that can solve this.

- Oh, I'm sure there is, Muriel for example!

Michael continued the speech, and Muriel came forth to spoke shortly.

- He doesn't want to listen to me, if I talk he yells and goes away.

- It really must be me.

- ...Fine.

- I'll be off then.

- Just a minute - Saraquel stopped him - I know that fallen angel from before. If this is happening because he's upset, your simple visit won't fix this problem you two seem to have.

Michael continued.

- Well, if that is correct, you need to choose. I can't afford missing an archangel, when there's so much to be done. You either stay here, or you fix this problem, and loose your status. No need for a memory erasure I think. You haven't done anything much yet that could be remembered.

Aziraphale didn't know what to say, he was working so hard every day, every hour, missed out on everything he loved, for nothing.

- I guess guarding fits you better anyways.

- ...Yes... Yes, I'd like that... Thank you... for the opportunity.

He touched the globe, and appeared up on the rooftop as soon as he vanished from up there. He looked around quietly, nobody seemed to be outside, the doors and windows that the water had reached were sealed shut, airtight. Still he could see movements inside the houses. Then he noticed the rain falling onto his head. He was sure there was an umbrella. He turned to look, and there it was, lying on the roof in pieces, broken by the metal pipe. He reached his wings out to guard Crowley from the rain, to which he looked up.

They stayed like that in silence for a few minutes, until Crowley looked back down and Aziraphale spoke.

- I... I gave up my post... I chose you.

- ...

- Crowley, please tell me what's going on, what's with the rain? You can't redo The flod, God promised us there won't be another!

- …I'm not killing anyone, now am I? ...Put your wings away from me, angel - he said softly, but he was not at all calm, it was sad to hear it too - since you don't want to fall in love with me.

- Crowley, that's-...absurd!

- Just let me cry myself out in peace.

- Are…these… are your tears?

- … I thought, all This… was worth something to you… You were always so fond of eating, and reading books, that humans made… But, almost at a snap of a finger, you gave it all up…!

His words were setting in, he let the rain fall on him, he let the tears of a fallen archangel ruin his looks, along with his own. It felt like the only right way to show regret physically too, to let himself be run down by their heavy, cold weights.

- It made me wonder, if your own things didn't mean anything to you… what did I ever worth to you?

- Crowley, I was doing this for you, so you could join me up in Heaven, without anyone trying to part us! We wouldn't have to worry for each other!

Aziraphale was trying to prove his point like he was saying it to a stubborn cherub, but instead of understanding, he heard laughter that only made him feel small.

- You, idiot! I thought you learnt something from humans! All those years and romance novels, You should know better! And Heaven! It's the place that forbids us from doing anything! From thinking anything! It's not your cozy, little home, it's your workplace for hell's sake! You can't bring me up there, after everything they did to me, and to you! You can't. Keep. Forgiving them!

- It's my job to-

- Papapapa! I'm not done yet! Secondly. Do you really think, that just because we're in Heaven, we wouldn't have to worry? Do you not remember how easily I fell the first time?! We can fall for any reason for doing something we didn't know was wrong! That pain, once was enough for me… Being in love means that you worry for the other's safety… Doesn't matter where they are, or what they've done. When you mentioned your possible fall, fearful because you lied to the others, I no longer wanted to get you to join hell's side. And I thought that was mutual. That you wouldn't want me to rejoin Heaven, and gave up all I've become. All I've grown. I-... I thought that, if I don't want to hurt you, you wouldn't either… we could have run off together, into our safe space. Just us. No orders, no jobs, no annoying colleagues and heavenly trauma… Did you have fun up there? Until I ruined it for you?

- Crowley, please! You didn't ruin it for me!

- Shame.

- I was coming down here anyways! They never let me!

- …This is why archangels are made, not promoted. You leave when you want to. Done.

- …I didn't… Nobody told me…!

- Of course they didn't.

- I… I had enough. I changed nothing, I never could make Heaven a perfect place for you, I have done nothing revolutionary, not even a simple change, I didn't even need a memory erasure of all the achievements I got, yet I worked every second! Everything was in vain, and I missed out on my only friend-...!

He was starting to cry too, but the rain rather started to soften. His tears only ran down on his face.

- I'm sorry, Crowley! I was an idiot! Please, just, look at me! I don't care where we are, for how long, just let me be with you! I thought we could be in the human's Heaven, of course I gave up my own things for us to be there!

- …Angel. You left me here, hanging. With a replacement. You cried when I finally opened up to you. When I tried to show you This is the human's Heaven. I thought you wanted it.

- I-... I do! - he gave out in tears - I just thought our first time should be the most romantical in existence, so that you'd finally fall in love with me thanks to it! I planned that dance for that moment so we can-... But you just kissed me out of nowhere, like it didn't mean anything to you, just something to tempt me with!

- Angel, I wasn't trying to tempt you, I was trying to prove my point! Why can't you trust me that I did that out of love?! I've fallen for you the first time we met!

- In Eden?

- No! In Heaven. Angel with the red, curly hair. Creating stars. You held my blueprint, and I covered you from the raining stars!

- But I… I thought you didn't even like me back then. You didn't even tell me your name!

Crowley was finally showing some emotions besides sadness, which was rather anger-ish with sarcasm as he reached out his hand as a gesture.

- Hi, Raphael Archangel, nice to meet your wings that you're covering yourself with!

- A-...

Some thunder and lightning has joined the rainstorm.

- If I'm a demon, at least we can be equals. Not care about our stupid ranks.

- So, you do love me?

- You never could feel it? You always told me when you felt love nearby!

- I, I wanted to be respectful by leaving that for you to tell me, when you want.

- See that's my problem with words. That's why I stopped doing it. How can I know what you're saying is true? That you're not lying, and I am not just a friend to you, that you can use!

- Crowley… I didn't mean you to feel like that! It's just that, you always loved saving me.

- No, I loved to be there for you, when you needed help. To protect you, because those were the times I could hope that I proved to you. But it seems like I didn't.

- N-no…Ha-h…But… You're a demon! Why wouldn't you lie to me?! Again?

- …See. It! You can sense love, so do it. With me. Too!

He said still in anger, tired of this game going back and forth. He gathered himself up emotionally, and laid back with giving out a sigh.

- Fine…

The raindrops were still falling on their heads, still softly but ready to go back to pouring at any time.

Aziraphale anxiously moved his hands to make an ethereal sign, squeezing his eyelids together, when something shone at him, and he opened his eyes.

He could feel his hurt, his feeling of being lost and tired, his want of a cozy home, someone to care for, to count on, his love like veins, wounded, but still bleeding out to him and him only. Wishes and made up scenes along with memories, like videos were pouring out of him. It was all like a huge gallery. Some very old, some very new, as if he never forgot any of them. In one Crowley was showing off his skills as an angel, and he was getting praises back from Aziraphale. In another, Crowley has learnt how to cook for him, and every meal was said to be perfect, but it was quickly interrupted by Crowley's self doubts about his cooking skills. There were all kinds of scenes from Rome, some he didn't dare to look through. But some caught his interest from later. In one they were in the Ritz, soft classical music playing, saying their toast to the world, it was like a memory, but not really, there were no people, just them, when it suddenly continued differently. Crowley said I love you to him. Since then, the music seemed to stay with him as he looked through the others. In one they were sitting in their couches, drunkenly blabbering from alcohol, talking about Armageddon, and fish soup. It made him laugh. When Aziraphale tried to help him with phrasing, Crowley went to kiss him on his lips, holding onto the angel's knees, and he welcomed it on the visuals. Then there were those scenes where he protected him from demons, angels, even from Gabriel. Always standing in front of danger just to hide Aziraphale from it.

The angel felt something, it was so deep love he barely could get enough of it. On another file, it was after stopping the Armageddon, Crowley could move into the bookshop, but he looked tired. Aziraphale covered him in warm blankets, and pulled him close to read to him as he fell asleep. He thought he'd seen the sweetest one yet, but then he found one a bit more guarded. A bit farther away from the others, it was… surprising. Sounds of children could be heard from it as he approached. Finally playing before him, he saw a window on a cottage, that led inside to reveal the two of them, looking at photos of children from a photo album, there was one who had not even opened their eyes yet, later on another one was learning to walk, he could see Crowley's feet and his hands, holding the cherub up. Then there was one about learning to talk, they spoke their first words and they celebrated. Aziraphale thought they all looked so lovely, so human, so domestic, he never imagined him like this…well, maybe once or twice.

Now Crowley's voice could be heard from the hallway, which was rather playful. He ran before the window on the inside. Then caught someone up in the air.

- Ooh no, no, no, you can't go out like that! What did I teach ya?

- That Scotland should be a free kingdom?

- …Aww. Beside that. You can't go out without anyone keeping an eye on you! At least try to sneak outside together with your siblings! Teamwork makes the dream work. Plus I can find a flock easier…

- But I don't want to be with the others!

- Hey, Aziraphale! This little cherub has free will! Have you heard of that?!

- Noo, don't tell dad!

Aziraphale's eyes were never so focused on a visual more than on this one before. He could feel his heart fill up with love.

- The door is open, dear. I can hear you. Keep your voice down, before you wake your siblings up - said Aziraphale from the video, and the real one looking at it was tearing up - or your papa will have to spend his whole week trying to get nine other cherubs to sleep.

- Nine?! - Aziraphale yelled out from surprise.

Crowley looked down at the tenth in his hands, he whispered.

- Pleasse. You love your papa, right? I'll get you chocolate!

- …

- In secret!

- Okay!

Aziraphale now was trying to see the full video if there was anything to how they could or how they would get nine cherubs. But there was nothing. They only seemed to be about them, alone together in peace, or with the already born children. As he was pacing through he recognised a pattern. Most of them were about just holding hands. In fear, in happiness, in sadness, in love, in anger. They never parted.

Guilt was creeping up on him. He decided it was time to get back to the real Crowley, who was here today.

Rain was rarely dropping down by now, he seemed to have enough of the tears.

He didn't have enough strength to look at the angel's expression yet. So he stayed down, lying.

- You're back? …Seen anything worthwhile?

Aziraphale scooched over to him in silence, then pulled Crowley up by his hand to take him into a kiss. Surprising the demon, the last drops of rain had hit the Earth, and real tears were rolling down his cheeks now.

He didn't dare to think that Aziraphale truly loved him back before, but now, this felt so much more different, so much better. They hugged each other close, with sureness, finally putting Crowley's mind at ease. Aziraphale opened his mouth to which Crowley did so too almost automatically. His heart's beating so fast but felt so right than never before. Aziraphale tried to only barely break their kiss while he talked hurriedly.

- I want… all ten - he said with a joyful cry tone.

- Ngk!

- I love you too… oh, you domestic demon!

Meanwhile in Heaven, only Saraquel was left at the globe and so she panned out of its ex-alert, with proudness on her face.

- You told me you would get that angel, Raphael. I'm glad you finally did, old warrior.

[velvetwyrme]

aHhh okay so the discussions of Titan!Megatron on @callsign-relic's blog have fully. FULLY taken over my brain and ive been drawing stuff for it for like the last few days nonstop

the tl;dr of this is AU is pretty much "what if Megatron got turned into a titan/cityformer as a form of penance/imprisonment and now roams the empty wasteland of Cybertron forever" plus "IDW Megatron has really fucked up internals so... what if that, but as a City?"

and of course since he's a Titan, that also means he has a cityspeaker... or three. One per sub-AU thing. Theres 3 options. 3 flavours of AU.

i have so much art to make. but in the meantime, for more info! check out the #titan au tag on Relic's blog :]!! (also uhh potential ns//fw warning for the link shfjbdkd)

Hi. My battery is running out once again so design and art notes get chucked here instead of an image.

The cuffs and collar are hardwired into Megatron, so I made the lights the same colour as his biolights!

I imagine that on the tops of his shoulders there are solar panels, even if you can't see them here lol.

I really wanted to keep the swirly bits on Megatron's chest from IDW

Other art notes:

The second picture with the seekers is (loosely) inspired by a discussion about whether or not Megatron gets visitors or not. I thought about who would visit him and well... I think this is as close as Starscream realistically gets to visiting him.

Extra detail about that piece is that Thundercracker and Skywarp are keeping watch from above! Also drawing Megatron took me like 8 hours because I was struggling with his legs really badly kshffkbfkdsbdk,, the background went much faster, funnily enough.

Optimus specifically isn't wearing his Autobot badge any more.

This isn't relevant in this series of images, but Ultra Magnus's eye markings are only on the Magnus armour. His other two forms do not have them :] (... until he begins to discard the armour, that is.)

Megatron is roughly 3200m/2 miles tall. Technically he could have clouds around his knees, but I thought this looked a little bit cooler lol.

Also, height chart! Him big. I didn't even attempt to put a human for scale because that'd be. near impossible with this scale.

[crsssie]

down the neck - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"Stop breathing down my neck." You huff, glancing through the scope at the unsub.

"Well, I have to lay low too, no?" Spencer frowns.

"It doesn't matter." You squint, humming. "Hit the button and ask Hotch if I can shoot. Be fast."

"Hotch, we have a clear shot."

"I have a clear shot."

"Snippy—"

"Fire."

You click your tongue, pulling the trigger once to hit the unsub's hand and a second to snipe the gun out of range as Morgan flies into the place. You watch through the scope as Spencer looks through the binoculars, and you only start to sit up when you see Morgan pull the unsub out. Then, you actually sit up and start packing up.

"Stop breathing down my neck." You huff.

"You weren't complaining when I—"

You hold a finger to your lips, pointing at your earpiece as Spencer blinks, laughing when you hear a cough in your ears from Hotch.

"Sorry."

"Need I remind you both of—"

"Nope." You puff out your cheeks, slinging the gun around to your back as Spencer raises a brow. "Actually, I think Reid needs a quick reminder. He'd love to go through another HR meeting about how we shouldn't be fraternizing with—"

"We're good, Hotch." Spencer cuts you off, rolling his eyes at you. "We'll see you back at the station."

"You're driving." You mumble, turning off your mic. "Two dollars and I'll drive. Four dollars and I'll make a stop at McDonalds."

"And for five?"

"I'll sneak in a kiss plus everything else."

"I think that can be arranged." He hums, pulling out a five as you press your lips to his, tongue swiping over your bottom lips as he chases when you pull away. You stick your tongue out teasingly as you take the five, craning your neck so that his lips would hit your neck instead. "Hey."

"I'll drop a ten if you—"

"Reid."

You laugh as Spencer jolts straight, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sound of Hotch.

"Turn off your mic next time."

"Roger that, sir."

You're too busy laughing the rest of the way back to be able to drive. (but spencer has no complaints when you hand him back the five with a chaste kiss to his lips).

[himulrai]

optimus flashbanging megatron on his bad moods is one of my favourite hcs - i wanted to include it in my fic but i wasn't able to!

Note: Chapter 3 of Catalyse That Vertex is now up!

[qoldenskies]

i think its so funny when people take the way donnie acts at face value even though its a horrible lie because he's a horrible liar, while understanding leo is bullshitting very well despite him actually being GOOD at bullshitting. many such cases

[tourettesdog]

I am begging people to be normal about completed fics, and in particular one shots.

I am begging people to stop demanding more from authors, and insisting that one shots need to be longer or have sequels.

I don't think yall understand how many fanfic authors are one more "where's the rest of it?" comment away from throwing out any plans they might have had to continue an idea.

Unless an author like specifically says they might write more for an idea, just-- assume something marked as completed is complete, and respect it as it stands, please.

[rcxdirectrix]

My gift for @jaylestial for secret solenoid @secretsolenoid-revived ! Drew a scene from their fic “Steady as We Burn” in Ao3. Not exact depiction but close enough. I hope you like it! ;u;

[kaysdenofchaos]

Quick little fan art for @qoldenskies Caged Lung on ao3 <333

Love can be suffocating. That’s how it’s supposed to be, right?

[greenglowinspooks]

Honestly I think the fics where Danny’s a Kryptonian have a lot of potential, so here’s me throwing my hat into the ring

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt…fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Intergang and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Intergang was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Intergang at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Intergang members were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

But before he could say a word to them, they sped off, disappearing into the deep blue sky.

[perceivedregret]

no more pain, except im lying

pt 4 of so it goes. i'm happy to say i've been consumed. rip my other wips tbh /: you can start from the beginning on my ao3 if you'd like. for now, here's pt4

Steve was thankful when he didn’t actually die the first time.

Now he kind of wishes he would have stayed dead.

He looks around, sees the way they’re all surrounded. Hopper stands by the cabin’s door as they all get meticulously taken down by the Suits one by one, their weaknesses being used in full force against them. Steve musters up what little bit of energy he has left and begs for Dustin and Max to run. Those brats have been through enough, they don’t need to see this happen to the three of them, not again.

Everything goes dark as he feels himself burn up from the inside, the injection coursing its way through his body until he can’t do anything but let it completely take him under.

—-----

"Come on! Stop worrying and just think about how cool this is going to be on the way over. Guys, back me up."

Dustin jingles the keys to Steve's car, holding it up near his face with a wide enough smile to make Steve's own face ache. The keys slip from his grasp and Steve instinctively reaches out to catch them, moving so quickly he disrupts the still air.

"Holy shit," Lucas, Will, and Mike gasp, eyes and mouths hanging open comically wide. Steve tries to limit his abilities, always trying to maintain a semblance of normality to their lives as often as he can, so to catch him slipping up is its own surprise.

"Watch it," he mutters, quick glance at the keys to make sure he didn't accidently bend them. "Last time you dropped these I ended up without a house key and had to climb in through the window."

Dustin's smile somehow gets wider as the back of his hands slap the arms of those closest. "I'm never gonna get used to that, holy shit. But whatever, think about it!" He's already shouldering his backpack and heading towards the door that leads to the garage, doesn't bother to look back to make sure the rest are following. "When has anyone ever had the opportunity to take a picture with their own headstone!”

“God, Henderson, I’d hope not ever. Why are you so fucking geeked about this, you twerp. Shouldn’t you be in like, mourning, or something.” He doesn't know why he's following him because he really shouldn't be entertaining this idea. Hopper would probably end up actually killing him if they got caught since he declared him dead a little over three weeks ago, and he doesn't think the guy would be all that opposed to making it happen this time.

“That's the awesomeness of this because you're not really dead. We did all our crying and grieving when we thought you died the first time when Heather snapped your neck. But then you woke up! You die-but-not-really-die a second time and it kinda loses its effect. Except with death number two you now have a headstone! You’re like Han, except less frozen in carbonite and just frozen at nineteen forever.” 

Mike scoffs behind them. "I didn't cry, did you cry?" He stage whispers. Steve rolls his eyes.

"I don't know." Will shrugs, fingers fidgeting with the buttons and knobs on Jonathan's camera that hangs over his shoulders. "I mean, I shed a tear. I think."

"Oh, fuck off," Dustin mutters, beelining straight for the passenger side.

When they get to Steve's car and are face to face from opposite ends of their respective doors, Dustin smiles so genuinely that Steve can’t bring himself to be the buzzkill. If he's honest with himself the idea does sound kinda cool, but he can’t let Dustin know that. Undead superhuman vampire or not, he needs to work on toning down this kid's damn ego.

“Han huh… that’s the cool dude who’s best friends with bigfoot and has the really fast spaceship, right?”

Dustin’s smile immediately drops, the other three bemoaning as they slip into the back seat.

“He did not just call Han Solo the cool dude with the fast spaceship," Lucas groans, slipping in behind the driver's side.

“Bigfoot? Bigfoot?!” Mike sputters, exasperated.

Dustin’s head drops, chin dropping to his chest so fast Steve can hear his neck crack. His head snaps back up, hands coming up as he taps his pointer fingers together. “First off– Han Solo is one of the greatest leaders of the Rebel Alliance. He helped fight for the freedom of the entire galaxy against the Galactic Empire. Okay, that man is a hero, a bad ass… The best smuggler!”

Steve tilts his head, corners of his mouth downturning as he considers the compliment.

“Oh!” Dustin snaps his fingers before his hand slaps the roof of the car. “He gets the girl!”

Steve’s eyes slip shut at the start of Mike cackling in the back seat. “So... he’s not like Han.”

—--

there's more to this part, catch the rest on my ao3

[wheneverfeasible]

Bullshit (part 2/3)

Continuation “fix it” of this ficlet where Steve changed himself to try to earn Eddie’s love.

Steve missed his polos.

He missed his light wash jeans, his music, watching his favorite movies, he even missed his stupid plaid walls.

Eddie had laughed at them the first time he’d been in Steve’s room, back before they’d even started dating. Technically they were still there, they were just covered up with posters of bands Steve only knew about because his boyfriend liked them. Eddie had teasingly gifted him a Black Sabbath one back when they had just been friends to give his room more “personality” instead of his mostly undecorated room, which…okay, fair, because Steve had admittedly not done much of it himself just because he couldn’t be bothered.

(And he did, actually, kind of like the poster because it was their own little inside joke. It made him smile when he saw it, even to this day, even if he thought he could still taste the damned demobat sometimes.)

It wasn’t like he really knew much of who he was to begin with. He still had the bowling pin he and Tommy had stolen from the bowling lane their sophomore year (Steve’s idea, though only to impress his friend), and the picture of the car he had bought on a whim because Tommy had said he wanted a car just like it. Any other knickknack had either been gifted or purchased for a similar intent.

Now, that car picture was collecting dust in his closet, replaced by the Black Sabbath poster that Eddie had pinned to the wall slightly askew for ‘aesthetics,’ though it being slightly off-center and at an angle made Steve a little itchy. Soon, however, other posters soon followed, some given to him by Eddie and some he purchased himself after learning what bands Eddie liked, with a large Dio one taking up space by his bed.

Flyers of Corroded Coffin shows or other band merch dotted around the room as well, which he didn’t really mind because he liked supporting his boyfriend, though the clutter and disorganization slightly bothered him. Eddie had grinned at the sight however and called him a ‘real boy now’ for looking like the room of a young man and not a ‘30-something corporate stooge,’ so that would have to be fine too.

But he still missed his room looking like his room, instead of a replica of Eddie’s. It made Eddie feel more comfortable however, so he tried not to think about how it wasn’t his aesthetic at all, because he could learn to like it. He could change for the better. He could be what Eddie wanted. He could be good enough.

Which was why he was confused, staring at the garment box on the kitchen table where he’d been circling car ads in the classifieds, trying to find something cooler than his bimmer. Eddie had come over with a wide grin, sliding a box he recognized from one of the department stores he used to shop at before dating Eddie.

Eddie had proffered it with a flourish, grinning expectantly, practically vibrating with anticipation as Steve had carefully lifted the lid and moved the tissue paper aside to reveal the piece of clothing inside. A polo shirt in a soft, buttery sort of yellow with thick vertical white stripes running vertical over it.

Steve looked up at Eddie with a furrowed brow. “I…you got me a polo?” he questioned, confused and also concerned, knowing the department store was definitely outside of Eddie’s usual price range.

“Yeah!” Eddie confirmed happily, moving to sit in the chair next to Steve, looking down at the soft material Steve had yet to pull from the box. “The check from the gig came through, and I remember you looking at this shirt a couple weeks ago. I’ve been waiting to be buy it ever since.”

Steve blinked at that. He hadn’t known Eddie had caught him admiring the shirt in the window while he and Eddie had been walking around downtown. He felt a flair of panic at the thought, annoyed at himself for slipping up, for reminding Eddie that he was a stupid preppy rich kid. Eddie didn’t look upset though, or at least…he hadn’t. Now his eyes were darting over Steve’s expression with growing worry, chewing on his lower lip.

“Is that…is that all right? Was it a different one you wanted? I-I still have the receipt, we can return it and get the one you wanted,” Eddie rushed to say.

“No,” Steve quickly said, his fingers of one hand tightening slightly on the box while his other reached out of their own accord to slightly touch the shirt within. “I…Eddie,” he breathed, not knowing what else to say, what this meant. Why would Eddie buy him something like this? “You shouldn’t waste your hard earned money on…something like this.” Shouldn’t waste your money on me, he wanted to say. “It’s your first paying gig.”

Eddie shook his head quickly, an almost embarrassed smile curling his lips with a slight blush. “I wanted to, Stevie. You always buy me things, I wanted to return the favor. You’ve been so supportive of me and I wanted to…I don’t know. Thank you.” He glanced down at the polo with a soft expression, though he did frown a little too afterwards. “I haven’t seen you wear your polos in a really long time,” he murmured quietly.

Steve tensed at Eddie’s words. Of course he hadn’t. Polos weren’t cool. Polos weren’t good enough for Eddie. It was why he was so confused at this gift. He didn’t understand why Eddie would buy him something that wasn’t metal. That wasn’t suitable for his boyfriend.

“I know that you’re experimenting with your style and all, and I won’t deny you’re hot as fuck in these,” Eddie grinned, moving to pinch the loose sleeve of Steve’s tee between his fingers. It was from some band he didn’t actually know before he’d bought the shirt, something called Leatherwolf, though he had bought their tape as well so that he could pretend to be a fan and know some of their songs. “But you look hot in your polos too. I miss them.”

Steve sat up straighter at that, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. Eddie…liked his polos? “Aren’t the polos…kind of lame?” he asked carefully.

Eddie snorted, smiling as he leaned in to press a kiss to Steve’s neck, causing a startled smile to erupt over Steve’s own lips as he squirmed at the slight tickle of Eddie’s lips and hair. “There’s nothing lame about you, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, voice roughened with his tease. He pulled back though, a touch of his worry on his expression again. “Do you like it?”

Of course Steve liked it. He loved it. It was exactly the one he had been looking at before, even though he’d tried to hide it, which meant that Eddie really had noticed it and really had been waiting to buy it for him. With his first paycheck from Corroded Coffin’s first real paying gig.

There had been the fear that Eddie’s involvement with the band would limit their options, that no one would want to listen to a band that had a member who was suspected of grisly murders. Eddie had been prepared to step down, to let the others move on without him, had offered it even though Jeff and the others had vehemently opposed the idea. They’d said that Corroded Coffin wouldn’t exist without Eddie and if he wasn’t part of it then they didn’t want to do it anymore.

In a surprise twist that probably shouldn’t have been all that surprising, Eddie’s infamy had actually helped the band. The news of his believed guilt and then later innocence and injury from the actual killer that he had tried to stop had spread even beyond Hawkins, drawing a crowd for their nights performing at The Hideout who began to see more patrons than ever before.

Then they’d been invited to participate in a Battle of the Bands, which they hadn’t won but they’d placed second, and the random shows they’d throw themselves at the quarry or wherever else saw larger crowds than usual, even the one they threw to celebrate Gareth graduating, and they’d even been asked to play at the fair, though it was a free gig.

Then, most recently, someone had approached them after one of their shows and asked to hire them for an event in Indianapolis. A paying event in Indianapolis. With it was the promise of possible future paying gigs as their fanbase grew and spread. There was even talk of a possible scout being at the gig.

Dustin had joked that maybe ‘86 hadn’t been his year, but ‘88 could be, though Eddie had just grinned and denied it, saying that ‘86 had been his year after all. He hadn’t said why, but he gave Steve a secretive smile and reached out to tangle their fingers together.

Steve felt a flare of warmth beneath his skin as he stared down at the polo again, hesitating before giving a brief nod. Eddie’s previously nervous smile bloomed into a joyous one, and he leaned in quickly to plant a smacking kiss to Steve’s cheek. Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t prevent his own smile from growing on his lips.

“Thank you, baby,” Steve murmured, sliding a hand over Eddie’s neck to draw him in for a slow kiss. He didn’t know what it meant still, Eddie buying him a polo of all things, but it made him more determined than ever to be good enough for his boyfriend.

When they pulled back, Eddie soft with happiness, Steve made the decision. He needed to go all in if he was to keep Eddie happy. He drew in a deep breath and moved to take Eddie’s hand, his finger lightly tracing one of the scars there.

“I was thinking of growing out my hair. Maybe even dying it. Or maybe shaving i—”

“Don’t you dare!” Eddie interrupted, expression and tone absolutely scandalized as he squeezed Steve’s hand. Steve jumped slightly at the sudden explosion, blinking wide eyes at Eddie, causing the other to flush slightly in embarrassment. “I mean. You can, obviously, if you really want to, it’s your hair after all, but…” Eddie let out a small whine of protest as his gaze moved up to take in Steve’s hair.

Steve self-consciously reached up with his free hand to pass his fingers through his hair, which wasn’t quite as voluminous as he used to style it, but was still the last real testament of his former style. His former personality. The bullshit one.

“I mean,” Steve hedged, glancing away with a small roll of a shoulder in an aborted shrug. “It’s not exactly metal is it?” He looked back at Eddie with a slightly strained smile, rolling his eyes as though in commiseration. “I don’t want to embarrass you by making people think you have a prep for a boyfriend,” he laughed.

Eddie’s expression changed immediately as he stilled almost unnaturally, falling into a blank neutrality, even his eyes shuttering as he slowly pulled his hand from Steve’s grip. The response caused Steve to start panicking, worrying he’d messed up in some way, that he reminded Eddie of all the ways that he was lacking.

Steve opened his mouth to start apologizing, ready to apologize for anything, but Eddie held up his hand palm out to stop him, causing Steve’s mouth to shut with a soft click of teeth.

Eddie’s gaze dropped from Steve as his brows slowly began to furrow, a calculating expression settling over him as his eyes fell to the soft yellow polo still in the box. His lips twisted into a frown. After several excruciating moments, his eyes moved towards Steve’s shirt, an even more pinched look settling over his expression.

“Who are you wearing?” Eddie asked, his voice low and slow.

Steve glanced down at his shirt, the panic in him spiking, before realizing that this was a test. He had to prove to Eddie that he could like metal too (he didn’t, not really, though he could appreciate some of it) and wouldn’t be an embarrassment. He could do this.

“Leatherwolf,” he answered, thankful that he had done his job well enough to answer this pop quiz. He straightened his spine and pulled up the information he memorized with a slightly relieved smile. He could do this. “They’re from California. They were founded in, um, 1981.”

“What’s your favorite song of theirs?” Eddie asked, and there was something slightly off in his tone, but Steve couldn’t place it, not when he was frantically trying to recall the titles of the songs he’d made himself remember.

“Um. Cry Out?” he hesitantly asked more than answered, which caused Eddie’s lips to press into a thin line. He felt his breath catch at the obvious displeasure on Eddie’s face, wondering if he’d answered wrong. Was that a bad song? “O-or no, um, not that one. Uh. I like…um. I like…Magic Eye?” Fuck no, that wasn’t right. “Magical Eyes, I mean,” he corrected himself hastily.

Eddie’s eyes slowly dragged over Steve, his lips compressing again into a thin line as he drew in his own deep breath through flared nostrils. “Fuck,” he muttered, obviously not meant for Steve but it caused Steve to panic anyways as Eddie looked away, his brow furrowing in thought as his gaze settled on the newspaper on the table and the circled ads there.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, though he wasn’t certain what he had done wrong this time. Maybe Eddie didn’t like that band?

“Steve…” Eddie heaved a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face before he looked over at Steve again. “I had thought you were just…trying things out. Experimenting. Lord knows your folks never let you be your own person,” he muttered before waving a hand as though to swat that thought away. “I didn’t realize you were actually trying to change.”

Why did Eddie sound so appalled by that? Wasn’t that a good thing? He was willing to fundamentally change who he was just for Eddie, to become someone deserving of Eddie, who fit in Eddie’s life. Didn’t Eddie want Steve in his life?

“Why are you upset about me changing?” Steve huffed, his worry turning into annoyance in his tone. “I thought that was a good thing. Not being the douchebag I used to be.” He scowled, crossing his arms with a roll of his eyes to cover his unease.

Eddie just looked at him in that way that made it seem like he was seeing inside Steve, which normally Steve liked because no one ever actually saw him, but now it just made him uncomfortable. Like he had done something wrong. He was just trying to be a good boyfriend, however. Besides, it’s not like he had come up with the plan on his own.

Everyone always talked about how different he and Eddie were. Always pointed out how preppy he was, made fun of Eddie for falling for a jock, had even asked at the start when they first came out publicly to their friends who was blackmailing whom into the relationship. Steve knew he had to change. They were too fundamentally different. It was the only way to keep Eddie.

Except Eddie didn’t look like he was going to be kept. He had started slowly shaking his head, pulling back, his eyes skittering over Steve again but in a way that said he wasn’t liking what he was saying. Steve’s panic spiked again.

“Eddie. This is good. I’m willing to change for you, that’s how much I love you,” Steve breathed, reaching out to grab Eddie’s hand with desperation. “I listen to your music now, and I play Dungeons and Dragons, and I don’t even talk about basketball around you anymore. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Don’t you see? Isn’t that all that matters?”

Eddie’s lips turned down into a sharp frown. A shuddering breath left him before he all but yanked his hand from Steve’s, his dark eyes turning even darker as he pulled away from Steve and said those damning words:

“But I’m not happy, Steve.”

Steve felt all the air leave his lungs, felt all the blood first rush to his head and then drain out of him, felt his mouth and tongue and throat shrivel into dryness as his eyes widened in horror. Eddie was shaking his head, stumbling out of his chair and back, an unreadable expression on his face as he distanced himself from Steve and this revelation.

“This wasn’t what I wanted, Steve. This doesn’t make me happy.” Eddie’s took another step back when Steve stumbled from his own chair, putting the table between them. “I…I need to go. I need to think.”

Steve knew with certainty that if he let Eddie leave now, that this thing between them would never be the same. His heart clenched in his chest painfully, and he felt his eyes sting with encroaching tears. “Eddie, please…” he begged, his words cracking.

Eddie only shook his head, sending his hair arcing around him, before straightening his spine. “This isn’t you. I don’t want this to be you. I love you Steve, but this version of you? The one that I created—” This time it was Eddie’s voice that cracked.

Clearing his throat, Eddie backed away. “No. No, this isn’t what I wanted. I’m sorry, Steve, but I need to go. I need to think. I can’t be here right now. I’m sorry.”

And with that, Eddie spun on his heels and all but ran towards the door, escaping from Steve’s incompetence, his unworthiness, his undesirability while Steve could only stand there in frozen horror, the tears he couldn’t hold back any longer slowly dripping down his cheeks.

Because he knew. He knew this would happen. He knew that no matter what he did, he would never be good enough. He knew that Eddie would leave him one day. Knew that he would never be able to keep the one he loved.

Knew that he, like his love, would always be complete and utter bullshit.

-

Part 3

-

tag list: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[fairsweetlonging]

system wardrobe malfunctions and small scenario pushers: exteme edition au

after his qi deviation, shen qingqiu starts working on slowly building up relations with his fellow peak lords and disciples; saving liu qingge in the caves, spoiling luo binghe rotten, freely praising his students, inviting the sect leader over for tea, he's a whole new person!

and yet... his friendliness levels aren't going up.

he knows it's a bit icky to judge his relations with other people based on numbers an alien entity is giving him, but he needs them to survive, and he swears that once he's above a certain threshold (somewhere between "civil" and "friendly", he figures), he will mute every and all notifications regarding it.

but they're just not going up. since his deviation he's at least managed to claw his way from "hostile" to "tolerant" with most of them, but some are somehow still stuck in the "aloof" section! they wouldn't even care if he died!

he just doesn't know what he's doing wrong; he understands these things take time, but it feels so bad when people refuse to sit next to him or sigh when they're assigned a mission with him, especially since it's not his fault.

now, it so happens that, one day, the system hears his woes and takes pity on him.

【 user seems to experience difficulty increasing character favor levels 】

you could say that

【 would host like to utilize our special deluxe package to activate 'The Path of Blossoming Hearts and Unspoken Affections' free of charge? ₊˚⊹♡ 】

though shen qingqiu isn't trustful of the system's antics, he can't deny that so far they have helped him well enough, and since it's free of charge with no penalties, wouldn't it be a waste not to use it? the title is a bit dubious, but was the original shen qingqiu not known for his frozen heart? for never sparing a single nice word to anyone? this could be his chance to let it blossom without the system nagging on his characterization.

【 accept optional mission? [yes]/[no] 】

he picks [yes].

two weeks later, he wishes he hadn't.

the package is devided into small scenarios that mostly appear at random, ranging from small dialogue challenges where he has to pick the right option (he really doesn't like those, the dehumanization of it makes his skin crawl), to the equivalent of two rivals getting locked in a room together.

the first few scenarios are minor and not very impactful, to the point where he's finished three of them and his favor count with qi qingqi has increased a whopping +2 (still "aloof") and that of wei qingwei +5 (still "tolerant").

his fourth scenario, however, reminds him of exactly why he should never accept gifts from strange screens floating in the sky.

he's on a nighthunt with liu qingge to slay a mirebeast that's been terrorizing travelers—an amphibious creature with thick, slimy skin, a crocodile tail and a leech-like mouth that shoots mucus when threatened... and shooting mucus it did.

while his clothes can easily be cleaned with a cleaning talisman, he never feels truly clean himself unless he actually bathes. luckily, there's a beautiful, glass-like pond nearby that's surrounded by natural demonic-repellent vegetation, a win! he's just draped his clothes over a nearby branch and submerged himself in the water, when the system rings out.

【 heads up! small scenario "Stolen Silks and Sunlit Waters" is about to begin! penalty: none. wishing user good luck (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) 】

hold up—stolen what.

stolen silks. his silks. stolen by a mossy-jade stag that happens to scratch its huge antles on the exact tree he hung his clothes on, which rattles the branch and causes his robes to fall exactly onto its head, spooking it into a gallop as it disappears into the forest.

how. how does that even happen.

shen qingqiu is just about to get out of the water when of course liu qingge chooses that exact moment to stomp into the glade looking for him, even though he should have been miles away to the village to ensure the people the beast is dead.

for anyone looking in from the outside, it's not a bad picture: shen qingqiu, with his hair pulled up and away from his slender neck, submerged to his (very bare!) pale shoulders in golden sunlit waters, surrounded by lotus flowers and lily pads. to liu qingge, this must be a terrible view, apparently—shen qingqiu can think of no other reason that would cause his face to flush so bright red.

liu qingge tosses his outer robe on the grass between them and turns resolutely around. it's only a bit insulting—is shen qingqiu not pretty enough to try and sneak a look at? even just a glimpse? meanwhile liu qingge is trying really hard to mentally recite the ethics sutra to not fixate on the sound of shen qingqiu getting out of the water (naked!!) or the rustle of fabrics as he wraps liu qingge's robe around his (naked!!!!) body. when liu qingge turns around he flushes an even darker shade as he sees shen qingqiu's bare legs and feet sticking out from under the robes.

"thanking shidi," says shen qingqiu, who notices none of this, as he pulls the robe a little closer around him, "for coming to this one's untimely rescue."

liu qingge grunts, turns, and walks away.

【 congratulations! liu qingge's favor increased. character satisfaction points +50. please continue to work hard! 】

shut up

【 ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა 】

they return to the sect victorious, but very embarrassed. the mirebeast gets all the blame. where his clothes are? well—uh, gone. the mucus dissolved them. yes he knows that's not how mucus works but it did this time okay?!!

yue qingyuan acts a bit strange seeing shen qingqiu wearing liu qingge's outer robes. he almost qi deviates when he finds out his shidi is wearing absolutely nothing under it. it's all very dramatic. apparently the sect is made up of people who shower with their clothes on or something.

【 ⁺‧₊˚bonus scenario!!˚₊‧⁺˖ interactive dialog quest: pick the best suited options to win additional favor points! 】

i don't like where this is going

"shidi?" yue qingyuan asks, looking at him with those big worried puppy eyes.

【 choice A: (demure) this shidi is cold. will you not invite me in at least?

choice B: what are you looking at?! mind your own business stupid old man!

choice C: i'm in love with liu qingge 】

WHAT

if he was drinking tea he would have spat it out, and then coughed himself to death. what the hell kind of options are these!!

【 system has based these options on what will earn (or lose!) user the most points. please pick one. 】

[ admin notes: option A will earn +60 points. option B will neither increase nor decrease points. option C will decrease -100 satisfaction points and increase +200 heartbreak points ]

shen qingqiu silently curses the system. option B is way out of line, even for the original shen qingqiu, who probably would insult yue qingyuan, but not with so little class. he doesn't even consider option C an actual option. and, well, he is cold. and wet. and almost naked. he would like a warm bath and some clothes. A it is then.

he doesn't like the way yue qingyuan's face light up when he grits out the dialog.

【 congratulations! yue qingyuan's favor increased. character satisfaction points +60! keep up the good work! 】

he can't keep doing this much longer.

unfortunately, he does have to keep doing this for much longer.

he's just about to go to bed when someone knocks on the door. luo binghe is already sleeping so he goes himself. just as he's about to open the door the system rings out—but it's too late.

shen yuan is used to wearing old tshirts to bed and no pants (he hates the feeling of his legs being restricted while he sleeps), so he doesn't really care when the only equivalent of this in pidw is a silk nightgown. his mother wore them, his sister wore them. hell, one of his brothers once bought one for fun and ended up using it for months. it's florally embroidered with puffy sleeves and reaches to his knees, that's decent enough, right?

【 heads up! small scenario "Dreamy Encounters at Dusk" is about to begin! good luck! 】

he has no idea what that's supposed to mean and he doesn't care. he opens the door, and it's mu qingfang. not... that unusual, but still.

"can this master help you?"

it takes mu qingfang a moment to remember what he's here for, it seems, because he stares at shen qingqiu for a good few seconds before raising an eyebrow like he's caught him doing something wrong.

"does shen-shixiong always answer the door like this?"

shen qingqiu glares back. "only when unsolicited guests come stumbling around my porch in the middle of the night."

"fair enough."

apparently he's here on behalf of yue qingyuan, who had asked him to do a post mission check up as soon as he was available, which is now. which yue qingyuan had apparently forgotten to relay to shen qingqiu himself. awesome.

he invites mu qingfang in (he can hardly close the door on him, it's late for him too!), and sits through the usual poking and prodding.

the system is prodding, too.

【 would user like some advice on how to maximize point earning? 】

no

【 ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) system is only trying to help!! 】

i really don't need your help with this, thanks. i can keep a conversation on my own.

【 optional system booster: not mandatory. user may choose to decline this quest.

option 1: this one appreciates your care. the hardship is... unexpected. (look away shyly). i find it difficult to accept help sometimes, even when i need it.

option 2: i'm in love with you.

option 3: stand up and pretend to faint into his arms 】

shen qingqiu is about to spit blood—what the HELL is this!!! why do all your options make you look bipolar HUH??? and what's this about professing my love to people?!! why is that always an option??! this isn't a dating simulator, stupid system, they'll think i'm crazy!

【 all these options result in an increase of character satisfaction points (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) 】

HOW

【 (ó﹏ò｡) user seems misinformed about character preferences. [mu qingfang] likes to take care of people! 】

... i decline the quest. booster. whatever. i'll figure it out myself. and stop talking about him like he's some one dimensional character!

they hear stumbling coming from the little side room, then the creaking of floorboards. binghe peeks through the door, hair sleep-ruffled and his robes pulled on over his sleeping clothes.

"shizun?" he asks, worried, "what's wrong? why is mu-shishu here?"

【 ⁺‧₊˚bonus scenario!!˚₊‧⁺˖ interactive dialog quest: pick the best suited options to win additional favor points! 】

oh god, not again.

【 option A: (gently) nothing is wrong, binghe. this master is alright. go back to sleep.

option B: (gently) nothing is wrong, binghe. this master is alright. (invite him to sit next to you during the examination)

option C: (gently) nothing is wrong, binghe. this master is alright. mu-shidi is just keeping me company tonight. 】

huh. so you can give meaningful options that i would actually consider picking?

【 ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ 】

[admin notes: option A will decrease -100 points for luo binghe. option B will increase +20 points for luo binghe. option C will decrease -300 points for luo binghe, and increase +20 points for mu qingfang. option A & C increase luo binghe jealousy levels with 400 points].

[hamzaheaven]

High fic with hamzah?

a/n: writing this fried as fuck so it only seemed right xxxx thank u for the req :’) also first time posting smut im terrified (its written in the way i enjoy smut so no vulgar words, moreso descriptions i guess?? idk pls im ashamed lowkey.) and its long as hell ok ill stop apologising now. sorry

tags: friends to lovers, tension.

warnings: weed smoking, dry humping.

NSFW <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

you feel your eyes strain slightly as the smoke spills from between your lips, your gaze focused mindlessly on the orange tip of the joint. you’re sitting on Hamzah’s bed, your back resting against his headboard. you and him had been friends for a while now, but it was starting to become harder for the both of you to ignore the blatant attraction and tension that lingered between you. the suggestive tones curling around every word, the glances that last a little too long. it was evident in everything, but you both seem to keep skirting around it. tonight, it feels heavier. hamzah had called you earlier, his voice laced with something softer than usual, asking if you wanted to come over and smoke. you didn’t hesitate. now, the two of you exist in easy silence. 

hazily, your attention drifts across the room. Hamzah is sitting in his desk chair, hunched over slightly as he edits a video on his computer. the screen is the only strong illumination in the otherwise dark room, the blue-ish light reflecting off the glasses on his face. your chest rises and falls slowly as you watch him, your eyes flicking across his back. his jaw clenches and unclenches in focus, his fingers moving over his mouse mindlessly. 

as if he notices your dwelling gaze, he turns his head over his shoulder to look back at you. another moment of comfortable, wordless silence passes as you simply stare at him, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

“what?” he quietly asks, the ghost of a chuckle laced within the simple question. even from behind his glasses, you can tell his eyes have turned a little red, too, like your own. 

you blink your eyes slowly, sparking the lighter in your hand a couple of times before shaking your head and shrugging. “nothing,” you mumble back, looking down at the lighter for a moment before back up to him. “admiring my view,” you add, your tone a little unserious as you sit up slightly. 

he immediately returns his attention back to his screen, humorously shaking his head in disapproval. the sound of his mouse clicking is echoing throughout the silence once more. “don’t say that,” he stoically says, “ew,” he adds, but you are quick to catch the tiny twitch of a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.

you can’t help but puff out a laugh, knowing how quickly he cringes at comments like that. silently, you relight the joint, your throat and lungs contracting slightly as you inhale. “you almost done?” you ask, your voice soft as the smoke billows out along with your words. 

he doesn’t respond immediately, humming instead. “yeah, just need to-” he starts, cutting himself off as he clicks around on his screen before continuing his sentence, “cut these clips a bit more…” 

a slightly dramatic sigh falls from your lips as you place the joint on the ashtray on his bedside table. “well, you better hurry up, or there won’t be anything left for you to smoke,” you reply, your words carrying a teasingly taunting tone. 

he clicks his tongue in response, still keeping his eyes focused on the screen. “don’t you dare,” he mumbles, his mouse now moving faster across his computer as you amusedly continue to watch. he takes another five agonisingly long minutes to finish up, turning his monitor off before sliding the desk chair back and getting up. in the now mostly dark room, he stretches, his bones crackling a little, a soft groan eliciting from his throat. you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, the same sheepish grin still on your face as he sluggishly pads over to the bed. “scoot,” he mumbles, scratching his hair and waving his hand for you to move to the other side of his bed. 

you do as he says, moving over to make room for him, your movements a little slower and heavier than usual. the mattress dips beside you, his body plopping down on where you had previously been sitting. a deep exhale passes through his lips as he sinks deeper against the pillows, shifting to get more comfortable. your eyes feel heavy as they seem glued to him, tentatively watching his every move. his fingers reach for the joint resting on the ashtray, taking off his glasses with his other hand. he looks at the joint for a second, before sparking the lighter, the orange flame illuminating his face in the dark room. you swallow sharply, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and lolling your head back gently against the headboard. hamzah’s yet to notice your shameless staring as he takes a long drag, inhaling before the smoke billows back out of his nose and parted lips. finally, he turns his head your way, catching your gaze as it was already on him. he mirrors your movements, resting his head on the headboard as well. 

the atmosphere in the room feels a little loaded, the tension between him and you almost palpable in the air, the effects of the marijuana only intensifying it. neither of you look away. his gaze flickers down for a second—just barely. it’s quick, but you catch it. the subtle drop of his eyes, lingering just a second too long on your lips before they snap back up to meet yours.

inhaling sharply, you move a little closer, teasingly placing your hand on his upper thigh as you lean over him, reaching for the joint he had laid back on the ashtray. he flexes the muscles in his thighs in reaction to your touch. your head feels fuzzy, your eyelids strained as you relight the tip, staying in place instead of moving back to your previous spot on the bed. the smoke passes through your parted lips, the taste of the green plant lingering in your mouth before you turn to look at Hamzah. 

his head is lolled back against the headboard as he watches you through low eyes, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. he shifts slightly as you keep your hand on his thigh, leaning on him to prop yourself up a little as you turn your body towards him fully. with your blood-shot eyes, you keep them locked onto his own, taking another drag before tentatively leaning closer. he watches with anticipation as you stop inches in front of his face, blowing the smoke against his parted lips teasingly. you flip the joint around in your fingers for him to wrap his lips around the end, but he doesn’t react for a moment. he seems to contemplate something, his chest rising and falling slowly as he blinks at you. 

wordlessly, he gently moves your hand away from his face, taking the joint from between your fingers and placing it on the ashtray. “c’mere,” he then mumbles, shortly nudging his chin upwards. his hand gently traces up your arm and into the crook of your neck, his fingers lacing in the hair at the back of your neck. you feel your chest flutter slightly at his soft command, watching gingerly as he tugs your face closer to his. 

teasingly, he ghosts his parted lips against yours, grinning to himself. he juts out his bottom lip a little, an airy exhale rolling off your tongue as it touches your mouth. you move your head to the other side, trying to find a way around his teasing, but he doesn’t immediately let up. instead, he removes his thumb from the back of your neck, carefully tracing it along your jawline until it reaches your bottom lip. he pads the finger across the soft, slightly damp skin. you can’t help but stifle a sigh, placing your other hand on his chest gently. a little frustratedly, you curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. 

he notices your frustrated gesture, biting back a light chuckle. his free hand tugs on your thigh, guiding your body to straddle his lap with heavy and slow movements. he exhales against your parted lips once more, teasing the tightened tether of tension carelessly once more before finally giving in. 

your hands slide up to his neck, your spine arching slightly as he gently presses his lips against yours. the dense haze in your head lifts just a little at the feeling, the hand that isn’t curled into the hair at the back of your head moving up your thigh and under your shirt. you inhale sharply against his mouth at his rather cold fingers stretching across the warm skin of your bare back. he applies a gentle pressure, pushing you down onto him a little. his eyebrows furrow, his heavy eyes fluttering shut at the friction. in response, you gently dig your nails into the back of his head. shivers continue to roll down your spine as he keeps his cold hand there, absentmindedly guiding the way you’re moving. 

you pull a hand through your hair, moving it out of the way, never breaking the kiss. something about the effects of the weed seems to make every touch, sound and move feel like a breathtaking bliss. a low, soft exhale tumbles from his throat, strangling into a whiny, barely audible moan. “fuck,” he curses against your lips when you roll your hips, just barely, experimentally, and a sharp inhale cuts through the space between you.

his fingers dig into your waist like he’s attempting to ground himself. his breath shudders as your hips roll over him again. his head falls back against the headboard with a quiet, broken sound—something between a sigh and a whimper. you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles go taut beneath your hands, the way his grip on you wavers between restraint and desperation.

“f-fuck,” he repeats, his voice thin and unsteady. he’s already unraveling, his chest rising and falling faster as his hands twitch against your skin. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this—so quickly undone, so easily wrecked just by the slow grind of your hips, the teasing drag of your fingers up his chest. 

you curl your spine slightly, leaning down as your lips ghost over his jaw, trailing down to the side of his neck, where you press a single, deliberate kiss to the warm skin just below his ear. his whole body tenses beneath you, a shaky, barely-contained whimper tumbling from his lips. 

“please–,” he starts, but he can’t seem to finish the sentence. his hands flex on your waist, his eyebrows furrowing deeper, his voice soft and whiny. 

you hum against his neck, the vibration making him shiver. “please, what? hm?” you murmur, your lips brushing against his pulse point, pressing a deep kiss there. 

he swallows hard, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “don’t… don’t stop,” he stammers, his voice catching on the words. His fingers twitch against your skin, restless, desperate, barely able to even guide your movements anymore. 

you pull back just enough to look at him, your gaze flickering over his face. his lips are parted, slightly swollen from how hard he’s been biting down on them in an attempt to be quieter. his pupils are blown wide, a deep furrow in his eyebrows. he looks wrecked already, and you’ve barely even touched him.

you tilt your head slightly as you listen to his quiet plea, making the coil in your lower abdomen tighten. your fingers tentatively trace the hem of his shirt before slipping beneath the fabric, dragging your nails lightly up his stomach. his breath stutters at the touch, and when you press them down slightly, just enough to make him feel it, he lets out a high, needy whimper. 

his hands shoot up, gripping your wrists like he’s trying to stop you—but his hold is weak, like he doesn’t actually want you to stop. “wait… wait,” he tries, his voice barely above a whisper, breathy and shaking, giving away he doesn’t want to cum so quick. his head tilts back, his eyes fluttering shut. his chest is heaving as you curiously halt your movements. 

you lean in again, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone. “you’re so sensitive,” you murmur against his skin, and the way his breath catches, the way his thighs flex beneath you, tells you everything you need to know. you gently continue moving, bringing back the friction that was making him writhe underneath you. his taut muscles immediately melt again under your body, a whiny exhale falling from his parted lips. 

“y/n–...” he tries to speak, but your name is quick to die in his throat when you grind against him again, slower this time, more deliberate. his hands clench and unclench at your sides, his breathing turning into short, hitched gasps. his voice wavers, and then he lets out a soft, whiny moan that makes your pulse spike. you watch as his head turns to the side, his skin burning, like he’s embarrassed by the sounds slipping out of his mouth. 

but you don’t want him to be quiet. 

tilting his chin back toward you with a gentle hand, you hover just inches from his lips, your thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth. “don’t hide from me,” you murmur, your voice softer now, coaxing, suggestive on the shell of his ear. “I want to hear you.”

his breath shudders, his grip on you tightening for a split second before going slack again. another curse word tumbles from his lips, his head dropping forward, his voice coming out in airy whines. “fuck… i’m, s-so close,” he stumbles over his whispered words, his chest heaving. 

you watch him, your own breath catching in your throat now, too. 

he lifts his head again, messily searching for your lips with his own, breathing raggedly. his grip on you is tight; harsh, almost as you continue rolling your hips, feeling how he pushes his own hips up every now and then. his whole body is tense, caught between pleasure and overwhelming sensitivity, and the way he’s looking at you—dazed, unfocused, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded—only spurs you on.

your mouths sloppily connect once more, and you can tell he’s struggling to focus. 

hamzah is trembling slightly beneath you now, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps as you keep moving against him, your nails roaming his back with deliberate slowness. his head tilts back, exposing the long curve of his throat, and the soft, desperate sounds spilling from his lips are enough to send heat pooling low in your stomach.

“i cant h… im gonna–,” his voice breaks on a whimper, the muscles in his thighs going taut, a string of loud moans following his cut off words. you watch with parted lips as his head drops back against the headboard. his expression contorts with the overwhelming ecstasy that thrills through all of his nerve endings, your nails digging into the skin of his chest as you feel the muscles in his stomach contract and release in rhythm with his whiny moans. they slowly grow softer, and you bite back a brief chuckle as you feel a growing, warm, wet spot in his pants underneath you. his hands slide down from your waist to your hips, his chest still rapidly rising and falling. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, seeming to relish in the sensations pulsating through his body. 

you swallow sharply, deliberately shifting a little on top of him, causing him to wince a little at the overstimulation of the sensitive area. he lazily opens his eyes into yours, his lips a little puffy and glistening as he keeps them parted, his panting slowing down slightly. his eyes are still a little unfocused and hazy as he flickers them across your face for a moment, a glint of endearment in them. he then drops his gaze down to his crotch, groaning a little. “look at this fucking mess,” he mumbles, also noticing the wet spot in the fabric, along with some of it splayed out on the skin of his stomach where his shirt had moved up. 

a breathy chuckle falls from your lips as he looks back up at you. “why would you make me ruin a perfectly good pair of sweatpants like that?” he asks jokingly, his eyes still half-lidded as he amusedly gazes at your state; a pink hue on your cheeks, lips puffy and damp, eyes heavy and your hair a little disheveled. he carefully wraps his arms around your waist, craning his neck so he can comfortably press a sweet, simple kiss on your mouth. 

you shrug playfully, grinning into the kiss. “my bad.”

[necrotic-nephilim]

as much as I love the common "Tim worships/stalks Jason" trope in TimJay fanfiction because it's Good and making Tim a weird little freak is Fun, I think the underutilized dynamic is where Jason is the one weirdly obsessed with Tim and makes it Tim's problem.

Like, the moment Jason is confronted with the information that a third Robin exists, the first thing he does is cover his wall with pictures of Tim so he can just obsess and torture himself over it. That is the behavior of a man who is Unwell over Tim's existence and I love it.

red hood: lost days #4

And as much as a shitshow as The Titans Tower Incident™ is characterization-wise (though I think it has far more merit in depicting Jason's character than people give it credit for but I digress-) there's something very fun about the fact that even after kicking his ass, Jason respects Tim and is impressed by him.

teen titans (2003) #29

And on top of that, Jason can't seem to stop trying to ask Jason to Tim to work with him in some capacity.

robin (1993) #177

batman: battle for the cowl #2

While Battle for the Cowl is an exceptionally bad comic, especially for its characterization of Jason and the "be my Robin" bit is taken deeply out of context, I do think it's interesting how obsessed Jason is with believing that Tim is extremely competent, only held back by being "brainwashed by Bruce". (hence him leaving Tim for dead later on in the comic.) Jason seeing a darker side of Tim and wanting to bring that out of Tim, wanting to see what Tim could be if he let go of his loyalty to Bruce is so fun to me, tbh.

And in Robin #177, Jason seems genuinely upset Tim doesn't want to work with him. Jason sees such a raw potential in Tim and is obsessed with it, constantly wanting Tim to work for him and see Tim be the type of person Jason is. And despite Tim rejecting him, Jason doesn't shoot to kill Tim. I just cannot get over the fanfic potential of Jason obsessing over Tim, tracking him and seeing what he's capable of and what he could be capable of. Wanting to make Tim see things the way he does. To Tim it's corruption, to Jason it's freedom. Tim trying to 'save' Jason is fun and all, but Jason trying to corrupt Tim? That's even more fun to me. Watching that power struggle between them, Tim unable to get Jason off his heels as Jason gets more and more possessive and bold with each attempt.

And when Jason sees Tim successfully get Gotham back under control after a gang war, he's impressed. He praises Tim, even. And then Tim just. Breaks him out of prison.

robin (1993) #182

The way they're constantly trying to see something in the other that isn't there, hoping the other will come around? That is the most fucked up hate/love dynamic ever. Jason keeps coming back to Tim, keeps trying to find ways to get Tim onto his side. They're always chasing each other. And I think Jason would be the one to confess love first, the one to do anything to make Tim his. And when you consider after all of this, Tim has his Red Robin arc and is at his lowest, getting the closest he ever gets to considering murder? I think it'd be so fun to see Jason take advantage of that and worm his way back into Tim's life and finally push Tim over the edge.