#had a friend outside the fandom send me this and what can i say

[yinwaryuri]

[newobsessionweekly]

A night to remember

Part 2 of Secret signals

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: Your date with Tim took an unexpected turn before confessing your feelings. And you wouldn't change a thing.

Fluff | A bit of angst

A/N: Oh, how much I enjoy writing teasing and bantering fluff. If you enjoyed the first part of Secret signals, I think you'll like this one just as much. Also, I wanted to let you know it's the last chance to leave any requests. Starting maybe next week I'll have to focus on studying for med school cuz I have the admission exam in July. Thank you for all your support and requests so far! I really appreciate every single one of you! Lots of love, bubs and take care! ❤️

Warnings: description of panick attack, not proofread yet Requested: yes Words: 4.7k GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

Lucy's eyes widened in surprise, a smile spreading across her face. "Tim Bradford, going on a date... I never thought I'd see the day," she teased, nudging him playfully.

Tim rolled his eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he grumbled, his embarrassment evident.

But Lucy's grin only widened as she leaned in closer, her curiosity getting the better of her. "So, where are you taking her? Any special plans?"

Tim hesitated, his mind racing as he considered his options. "I haven't really had a chance to think about it yet because someone doesn't keep their mouth shut for a second!" he bursted, his brow furrowing in thought. "But I want it to be special."

Lucy's eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned in closer, eager to offer her input. "Well, if you're looking for somewhere nice, you can't go wrong with 71Above," she suggested, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "It's got amazing views of the city, and the food is top-notch. Trust me, Y/N will love it."

Tim's car was parked outside your place at 9 pm sharp. You weren't ready on time, but Tim knew that. Yet, he still was there as promised, hands sweating and trembling as he moved them frantically from the steering wheel to his lap and back on the steering wheel, a milion times. He was acting silly, like a high schooler on the first date with his crush. But he couldn't help it, you weren't just a crush, you were his best friend. His rock that kept him from drifting apart so many times. And the only person he actually enjoyed.

As he glanced at his phone, he saw the time ticking away. He couldn't help but worry that listening to Angela and Lucy's advice and taking you on a date might ruin the friendship you both cherished. But at the same time, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was worth the risk.

A million thoughts race through his mind, each one more nerve-wracking than the last. What if this date ruins everything between you? What if he says or does something to make things awkward between you? What if he messes up the one chance he has to tell you how he truly feels?

With a heavy sigh, Tim pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Lucy. "If it goes wrong, you'll beg for Tim Tests." he types out, pressing send before he can second-guess himself. Lucy pressed Tim into this after all. Without her nosy personality, Tim wouldn't have acted impulsively and arranged a date for you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you emerge from your apartment, a radiant smile gracing your lips as you approach Tim's car. You're momentarily struck by how effortlessly handsome he looks. Dressed in a casual yet sophisticated attire, Tim exudes a rugged charm that never fails to captivate you.

His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you, his heart skipping a beat as he takes in your beauty.

"Hey," you greet him, your voice soft and warm as you slide into the passenger seat beside him. "Sorry I'm late."

As Tim's eyes land on you, he can't help but feel a rush of awe. You look incredible, and he can't tear his gaze away. Your smile lights up your face, making his heart skip a beat and your eyes sparkle with warmth, drawing him in like a magnet.

Tim shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he meets your gaze. "No need to apologize," he says, his voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil raging inside him. "You look amazing."

A blush spreads across your cheeks at his compliment, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. "Thanks, Tim," you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper as you fumble for words. "You're acting strange.

"No, I'm not."

Tim started the engine and pulled away from the curb, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him when he wasn't looking. There was something about the way he held himself, a quiet confidence that you found strangely alluring.

As the two of you drove through the streets of LA, the sound of the radio filling the silence between you, you found yourself lost in thought. You couldn't deny the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, the nervous anticipation of what the night might hold.

When Tim glanced over at you with a soft smile playing on his lips, you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for the man sitting beside you.

"You know, Tim, Lucy seems pretty cool," you remarked, glancing over at him. "She's got this energy about her, like she's ready to take on the world."

Tim raised an eyebrow, a skeptical expression crossing his features. "Cool? More like a walking disaster waiting to happen and constantly sticking her nose where it doesn't belong." he retorted, his tone tinged with amusement.

You laughed, shaking your head at his blunt assessment. "Come on, Tim, give her a chance. She's just trying to find her footing," you insisted, nudging him gently.

Tim let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I'm all for giving her a chance, but she's got a long way to go before she's ready for the streets," he argued, his tone firm.

You arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Well, lucky for her, she's got the best training officer in the department to show her the ropes," you teased, earning a chuckle from Tim.

"Yeah, lucky her," he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. But despite his grumbling, you could see a flicker of pride in his eyes at the mention of his role as Lucy's training officer.

As the familiar streets of LA passed by, you couldn't help but notice that Tim wasn't taking the usual route to your favorite bar. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you glanced out the window, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Uh, Tim? Are we going a different way tonight?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

Tim shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe I've got a surprise up my sleeve," he replied cryptically, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your curiosity piqued, you leaned forward in your seat, trying to catch a glimpse of your surroundings. "A surprise, huh? Well, color me intrigued," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Tim chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting. "You'll just have to wait and see," he said, his tone playful as he focused on the road ahead.

Finally, Tim pulled the car to a stop in front of a sleek, modern building that towered above the surrounding skyline. The sign above the entrance read "71Above" in bold letters, and you couldn't help but gasp in surprise.

"Tim, is this...?" you began, trailing off as you turned to look at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

He flashed you a grin, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes. "Surprise," he said simply, his voice soft yet filled with meaning.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what Tim had done. He'd gone out of his way to take you to one of the most upscale restaurants in the city, a place you'd only ever dreamed of visiting.

As you stepped out of the car and followed Tim, a wave of excitement washed over you, your eyes sparkling with wonder. "Tim, I can't believe you brought us here!" you exclaimed, practically bouncing on your toes as you took in the elegant surroundings.

Tim glanced at you, a hint of surprise flickering across his features before a warm smile spread across his face. "Well, I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

You nodded eagerly, unable to contain your enthusiasm as you rambled on about everything you'd heard about the place. "I've been wanting to come here for months! I've heard they have the most amazing views of the city from up there, and the food is supposed to be out of this world," you gushed, your words tumbling out in a rush.

Tim chuckled softly, a fondness shining in his eyes as he watched you talk. "Let's check it out, then."

As Tim led you towards the entrance, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you. The restaurant was located on the upper floors of a towering skyscraper, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the glittering lights of the city below.

The elevator ride to the top floor was swift but exhilarating, each passing floor heightening your anticipation. When the doors opened, you were greeted by breathtaking panoramic views of the city spread out before you, the glittering lights of Los Angeles stretching as far as the eye could see.

As you followed Tim to your table by the window, you couldn't tear your gaze away from the mesmerizing sight. The city seemed to come alive beneath you, a vibrant tapestry of colors and lights that danced in the night. It was a moment of pure enchantment, and you felt a surge of excitement coursing through you as you settled in to enjoy the evening ahead.

Tim couldn't help but smile as he watched the excitement dance in your eyes, a warmth blooming in his chest at the sight of your joy. Your enthusiasm was infectious, and he found himself caught up in the moment, marveling at the beauty of the city alongside you.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" he remarked, as he followed your gaze out the window.

You turned to him with a grin, nodding enthusiastically. "It's incredible!"

As the night progressed, you and Tim found yourselves immersed in the magic of the evening. The ambience of the restaurant, the delicious food, and the lively atmosphere created the perfect backdrop for an unforgettable night.

You couldn't remember the last time you laughed that much, the sound of your laughter mingling with Tim's in a symphony of joy and happiness. Each moment spent together felt like a precious gift, a fleeting glimpse into the depths of your friendship and the possibility of something more.

Tim's infectious laughter echoed through the restaurant, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he regaled you with stories from his time on the force. His smile was like a beacon of light in the darkness, drawing you in and filling you with warmth.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. In that moment, surrounded by good food and even better company, you felt truly alive.

But amidst the laughter and the lighthearted conversation, there was something else simmering beneath the surface, something unspoken and electric. It was a tension that crackled in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the growing attraction that pulsed beneath the surface of your friendship.

Yet, despite the palpable chemistry between you, Tim was content to simply bask in the warmth of your presence, to lose himself in the moment and forget about the weight of his own feelings.

And as the night wore on, you found yourself falling more and more in love with him, with every smile, every laugh, every stolen glance. It was a feeling that consumed you, filling you with a sense of euphoria that you never wanted to end.

The restaurant gradually emptied, leaving only a handful of lingering patrons scattered throughout the dimly lit dining room. Tim and you found yourselves among the last remaining guests, reluctant to let go of the magic of the evening.

With a satisfied sigh, Tim leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with contentment as he glanced around the nearly deserted restaurant. "I can't remember the last time I had such a great night," he admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You nodded in agreement, a warm feeling spreading through you at the thought of the wonderful evening you'd shared together. "Me neither," you replied, your voice soft with emotion. "It's been amazing. I can't remember the last time you laughed that much!"

As the last of the patrons trickled out of the restaurant, Tim turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, what do you say we keep the party going somewhere else?" he suggested, his voice filled with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, intrigued by his suggestion. "Oh? And where did you have in mind?" you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Tim shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing on his lips. "I don't know, maybe we could head to a bar for a nightcap or something," he suggested, his eyes twinkling.

The idea sounded perfect to you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of spending more time with Tim. "I'm in," you declared, a grin spreading across your face.

As you and Tim stepped into the elevator, ready to continue your evening adventure, the doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, enclosing you in the small, dimly lit space.

The elevator hummed to life, beginning its descent down to the ground floor.

But just a few floors down, the elevator jerked to a sudden halt, the lights flickering ominously before plunging you both into darkness. A chill ran down your spine as you felt the floor beneath you come to a stop, the suddenness of the situation leaving you feeling disoriented and scared.

"Tim," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hum of the elevator. "What's happening?"

Tim's expression mirrored your own concern as he reached out to steady you, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice tight with apprehension. "But it looks like we're stuck."

Panic began to rise within you as you realized the gravity of the situation. Trapped in a malfunctioning elevator with no way out, your heart raced in your chest as fear gripped you tight.

Instinctively, you sought refuge in Tim's arms, seeking comfort and safety in his familiar embrace. For a moment, you felt a sense of calm wash over you as his strong arms wrapped around you, providing a brief respite from the chaos of the situation.

But as reality sank in, you knew that you couldn't stay there forever. With a reluctant sigh, you pulled away from Tim, the weight of the situation pressing down on you once more.

"We need to figure a way to get out of here," you said, your voice determined despite the fear gnawing at your insides.

With a heavy sigh, Tim reached for the emergency call button, pressing it in hopes of summoning help. But as the seconds ticked by with no response, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on both of you.

"We need to wait for help."

As the minutes dragged on, your panic intensified, threatening to consume you whole. The confined space of the elevator felt like a suffocating prison, each passing second amplifying your fear of being trapped so far above the ground.

Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps as your heart hammered against your chest, the darkness pressing in on you from all sides. "We're going to die in here, Tim," you choked out, your voice trembling with fear.

Tim's heart clenched at the desperation in your voice, his instincts kicking into overdrive as he moved to your side, wrapping you in his arms once more. "Hey, look at me," he urged, his voice firm yet gentle as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"We're not going to die, I promise," he said, his words laced with a quiet confidence that helped to anchor you in the storm of your panic. "Just focus on breathing with me."

His steady voice was a lifeline in the darkness, guiding you back from the brink of despair as he led you through a series of slow, deep breaths.

But the panic was relentless, its grip tightening around your chest with each passing second. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as your mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

Tim's voice was a distant echo, his words barely registering as you struggled to regain control of your racing thoughts. But he refused to give up, his touch a steady anchor as he guided you through the storm of fear.

"Listen to my voice, focus on my words," he urged, his tone firm but gentle. "You're safe with me, Y/N. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

Tim's voice softened, his fingers gently brushing the stray strands of hair away from your face as he continued to soothe your frayed nerves. "You're doing great, Y/N. Just breathe with me, okay? In... and out."

His calming presence enveloped you like a warm embrace, his words a balm to your frazzled mind. With each inhale, you felt a sliver of tension melt away, replaced by a newfound sense of tranquility.

But even as Tim worked to calm your panic, his own worry lingered just beneath the surface. He couldn't shake the nagging fear that he wouldn't be able to keep you safe, that somehow he would fail you in your moment of need.

Yet he pushed those doubts aside, focusing all his energy on being there for you, reassuring you with every word and gesture. In that moment, nothing else mattered but your well-being, your safety.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, the sound of your breathing gradually slowed, your panicked gasps giving way to steady, even breaths. And with each passing moment, the darkness seemed a little less suffocating, a little less daunting.

As Tim continued to hold you close, his arms a steady anchor in the darkness of the elevator, he shifted the conversation to lighter topics, hoping to distract you from the looming sense of fear.

"Remember that time we tried to build a treehouse in your backyard?" he asked, a nostalgic twinkle in his eyes.

You responded faintly, the memory flooding back vividly. "How could I forget? We ended up with a pile of sticks and a broken arm."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Yeah, and your mom nearly had a heart attack when she saw us dangling from that rope ladder."

"I still can't believe we thought we could build a treehouse with just a hammer and some nails," you admitted.

"Well, we were what, eight years old? Seemed like a good idea at the time," Tim reasoned, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"True," you agreed with a chuckle. "But I think we learned our lesson after that."

"Definitely," Tim nodded, a reminiscent smile playing on his lips. "Although, knowing us, we probably found some other scheme to get into trouble with."

"Oh, no doubt about it," you agreed, sharing a knowing look.

As the tension in the elevator began to ease, Tim shifted the conversation to another memory from your past, a smile playing on his lips as he recalled a particularly memorable event.

"Remember when we went to homecoming together?" Tim chuckled, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You cringed at the memory, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Oh, please, don't bring that up," you pleaded, shaking your head in embarrassment.

Tim grinned, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Why not? It was hilarious!"

"Yeah, for you maybe," you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

Tim's grin softened into a warm smile as he reached out to gently touch your arm. "Hey, you looked amazing that night," he reassured you, his voice sincere.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, right. I was a total mess."

Tim shook his head, his expression earnest. "No way. You were the most beautiful girl there, hands down."

As the memories of homecoming faded, replaced by more somber recollections, you found yourself opening up to Tim about a time that had left you feeling scared and vulnerable.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before continuing. "When you were back in Iraq, I was so scared, Tim. Every time I got a call from you, it felt like my heart was in my throat. And then those calls started getting shorter and more distant, and I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know if you were okay, if you were coming back..."

Your voice trailed off, the memories still vivid in your mind despite the passing years. Tim reached out, gently squeezing your hand in silent support as you struggled to find the words to convey the depth of your fear and uncertainty during that time.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I didn't mean to worry you like that."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips despite the lingering sadness. "It's okay. You were doing your job, and I knew that. But it was hard not knowing if you were safe, if you were coming back."

Tim's gaze softened, his hand finding yours as he met your eyes with a mixture of gratitude and affection. "I'm here now," he said softly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He paused, weighting his words,"I... I think I have feelings for you from back then," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And the most tragic part about this is that I don’t think I can stop, even if I wanted to."

His admission hung heavy in the air between you, the weight of his words sinking in as you struggled to process the magnitude of what he was saying.

"Tim..." you breathed, your own emotions swirling as you searched for the right thing to say."I mean, I've thought about it too," you admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your tone. "But I never thought you felt the same way."

A flicker of surprise crossed Tim's face, quickly replaced by a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "You did?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I did. And I guess... I guess I've been hoping you'd say something like this for a while now."

Tim's smile widened, a sense of relief washing over him as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"Well, I'm saying it now," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "And I meant every word of it."

Tim's touch was gentle yet electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers traced delicate patterns along your jawline. You found yourself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth and comfort he offered in that moment of uncertainty.

His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he gazed into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and longing. In that moment, it felt like the world had faded away.

With a soft sigh, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken emotion. It was a moment of surrender, of letting go of all inhibitions and fears, and allowing yourself to be consumed by the warmth of Tim's embrace.

As your lips moved together in perfect harmony, the world outside ceased to exist, replaced by the rhythmic beat of your hearts and the gentle whisper of your breath mingling in the air. It was a kiss that spoke of years of unspoken longing, of whispered confessions and silent promises, sealing a bond that had been years in the making.

The elevator finally jolted back to life, breaking the moment, but the warmth of Tim's embrace and the taste of his lips lingered on.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, you and Tim stepped out into the lobby, still caught in the afterglow of your kiss. With a playful smirk, Tim nudged you gently as you made your way back to his car.

"Well, that was unexpected," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, swatting his arm lightly in retaliation. "You're one to talk. Who knew getting stuck in an elevator could be so... romantic?"

Tim chuckled, the sound warm and comforting as he unlocked the car doors. "I guess stranger things have happened," he remarked, a hint of mischief in his tone.

As you settled into the car, the tension of the past few hours melting away, you found yourself laughing as you recounted the events of the evening. From the unexpected elevator malfunction to the heart-stopping kiss that followed, it had certainly been a night to remember.

"So, remind me never to take the elevator with you again," you joked, earning a mock offended gasp from Tim.

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm a great elevator companion," he retorted, a playful glint in his eye. "Just ask anyone who's ever been stuck with me."

You laughed, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "I'll take your word for it," you replied, a smile playing on your lips as you leaned back in your seat.

As Tim started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, the warmth of his presence beside you filled you with a sense of contentment you hadn't felt in a long time. It was moments like these, filled with laughter and lighthearted banter, that made you grateful for the bond you shared with him.

"So, about what you said in the elevator," you began, breaking the comfortable silence as Tim navigated through the streets.

Tim glanced over at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, about that. I hope I didn't scare you off."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Not a chance. If anything, it's nice to know I'm not the only one feeling a little... sentimental."

He grinned, his gaze returning to the road ahead. "Sentimental, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

You shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep it classy."

Tim chuckled, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "Well, in that case, I guess I should apologize for any lack of classiness on my part."

You laughed, reaching over to gently nudge his arm. "No apologies necessary. Besides, I think we both know we're not exactly the poster children for romance."

Tim smirked, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Speak for yourself. I've been known to be quite the charmer when I want to be."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "Oh, please. The only charm you have is the one you use to get out of speeding tickets."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Touché."

"You know," he continued, his voice soft, "despite all the craziness of tonight, I wouldn't change a thing."

You smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. "Me neither. Even getting stuck in that elevator couldn't ruin the night."

Tim chuckled, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Yeah, well, I guess it's just one more adventure to add to the list."

You nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude for the shared experiences that had brought you to this moment. "I wouldn't want to go on these adventures with anyone else," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "I feel the same way," he confessed, his words carrying a weight of sincerity that took your breath away.

In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the quiet hum of the car as it cruised through the night. And as you leaned in closer, the distance between you disappearing with each passing second, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you were ready to face them together, hand in hand.

[wraithdance]

I wanna touch on a couple things I noticed from the asks that are being sent regarding the current discourse. About a month ago I received this ask, wanting me to 'name, names' after I made some generalized post about something or another (probs racism per usual because that's been consistent)

What I don't make clear outside of the vetted and trusted people I speak to daily, is I usually send messages to the person I'm talking about in hopes to advise that something was not hitting. I’ve blocked a couple ppl whenever I feel like my point was dismissed because I don’t got the time baby

Occasionally, I'll do anon if I'm just not in the mood for potential issues if the ask gets answered publicly and the reason for that is what I'm about to show you.

This is an ask my mutual @kyletogaz got after expressing frustration about the situation/lack of apology and so is this and this. And this is a link to @ungodlybre post on all the asks she's gotten in the last few days after she commented on a post about the Mace fic. I just received an ask a few seconds ago yall can look at as well

This is the post my friend/mutual kiko made that I reblogged and essentially got the ball rolling on the current convo about how Mace/black characters are depicted in fiction. Kiko has been one of the few other poc people providing links and information on what the issue is with the fic.

I noticed the glaring tonal difference in how non black people like Kiko, who originally brought up the issue, are in comparison to the black female bloggers that I referred to earlier, after they expressed frustration about the new crop of fandom shit.

I couldn't find the ask that @/Fulltacs (a non black person) answered when asked about why the writer was getting heat, but I read the ask and it was actually pretty respectful towards fulltacs, while being incredibly dismissive/rude when referring to Bre (@/ungodlybre)

I've seen several of my white mutuals repeat in their tags/posts the issue about the fic and what not. I have yet to see them receive the kind of directly antagonistic asks from anons who claim to be black/poc with the intent to shut down or convince us to stop talking about the writer. I’m not gonna get into digital blackface or blackfishing but I have my doubts on these anons being racially black.

Overall this is all an example of something called racial gaslighting but specifically misogynoir

Misogynoir is a form of racial microaggression towards black women where race and gender meet. It usually stems from implicit bias, which is the reason why people had a problem with the fic in the first place. Not the damn kink. or even the unwitting use of an anti black slur. 

The continued dismissing about word use/forgiving the author and the overall vitriolic tone asking these black women to educate or saying things like: ' You are a bully’ ‘shut up because it's not that big of a deal’, ‘the writer tried or I'm black and-' is just an example of how black women are spoken to on and outside the internet and why many of us have chosen to not directly say anything about racism outside of private messages. 

It’s why Kiko and the mutual that dm’d @/auspicoustidings are latinas who’ve chosen to address the situation as an act of solidarity when Jess (kyletogaz) and I were excited to read the Mace fic and were unsettled by it

"the intersectional nature of Black women’s identities triggers a particularized stereotype or trope of the “Angry Black Woman” and explains how this trope is often invoked in aggressive encounters to deflect attention from the aggressor and to project blame onto the target." - A quote From this article 

“racial microaggressions are subtle and everyday slights and insults that can include insensitive comments based on an array of racial assumptions … as well as the minimization or denial of the racialized experiences of people of color.” - From this study on Perceived Gendered Racial Microaggressions Experienced by Black Women.

I don’t have the time or the desire to do a crash course on misogynoir and the ways implicit bias shows up in real life and fandom. What I can say is if you need or want the visibly/vocally black people in this fandom to shut the fuck up right now, while non black people (including the author) are being afforded a sense of kindness/assumption of innocence and well doing for speaking up, than you are apart of an anti black problem

Those black bloggers said innocuous shit like “long suffering sigh” or “hate to see it” and are still getting hate and that is the reason we are saying many fics about black characters like Kyle who is often disregarded, make us uncomfortable . This kind of bias is a dog whistle only those who have been raised black/poc see irl and it’s present in the way people write fics. 

My ask is for people to take a second and really ask yourselves if you think this is a safe space for Black/non black poc people to educate on racist tropes in writing and then I wanna know if you even realized that before I said something

[angelic-sturniolos111]

Fresh Love Modeling 🍊

You never guessed that Chris Sturniolo would reach out for you to model his Fresh Love clothing brand. You had been following him on social media a while and definitely had a crush on him. What you didn’t know is that when Chris had seen your modeling portfolio he started crushing too. The two of you end up alone in his dressing room together after the photoshoot and things heat up.

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

entirely in Chris’s POV

warnings: cursing, flirty and smuttyyyyy

author’s note: writing this completely sleep deprived :) did not proofread lolz

I want to sit on his lap so bad in this pic

My Fresh Love brand is super important to me and I am so grateful that it has grown in popularity thanks to my fans. I want to grow this brand and reach out to creators and artists outside of the fandom in hopes that eventually Fresh Love Clothing can be sold in stores nationwide. A big part of Fresh Love, and any clothing brand, is the marketing which I take very seriously. I always want to have a diverse group of models, but ultimately they also should be attractive and have a cool aesthetic to be the face of the brand. I had sent out a model casting call last month, and my friend Tril and I were going through all the applications. Tril truly saw my vision and we were usually on the same page when it came to models we thought would work well for the brand.

Today was definitely a “work day” in the house— Nick was editing our recent car vlog, Matt was brainstorming video ideas, and Tril and I sat on the couch on our laptops going through hundreds of model portfolios together. We had been scrolling through applications for nearly two hours and I was honestly bored out of my mind. Luckily, we found a handful of models we like, but I still felt like one was missing. There was a certain look, a certain vibe, that I was looking for and I wasn’t sure what it was but I knew I’d know the second I saw them.

“Hey take a look at this one. I recognize this girl… I think she follows us on insta or something?” Tril says passing me his laptop. Damn. This girl was beyond fine. I scrolled through her portfolio pictures, and I really liked her modeling style. She didn’t look mainstream, which I liked, but she had a really unique look. “Do you recognize her?” Tril said interrupting my thoughts.

“No. I’d definitely remember her if I had seen her before.” I said. I went to the top of her application page, her name was Y/N.

“I like her portfolio and I think she’s a good fit for the brand.” Tril says.

“Absolutely. I really like her. I’m going to accept her application right now.” I said sending her an acceptance sheet back with the photo shoot information.

***

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. I always have trouble falling asleep because I’ll have a thousand creative ideas that I bounce back and forth in my head, but this time I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking of Y/N. Tril said she followed us, right? I grab my phone and open instagram and typed her name in the search bar, and her profile popped up. She was following Tril and I as well as my brothers, our group account, and our podcast account. Nice, she’s a fan! I went through her posts and God, she was stunning. I wanted to follow her, but I knew if fans saw that they’d get all sorts of crazy ideas and make assumptions so I decided I’d wait to follow her until the Fresh Love shoot would be posted so everyone knew who she was. I looked at some modeling shots she posted, laid back pictures with her friends, and I was unapologetically looking for any signs that she was dating anyone which from her profile she appeared to be single. I saw some of her swimsuit modeling shots she had done recently, and I zoomed in on all parts of her body. Her amazing body. She had these thick thighs that contoured perfectly with her cute ass. My thoughts wandered off, thinking of how badly I wanted those thighs wrapped around my head. I got hard at the thought of it. I continued to mindlessly stalk her instagram before I finally fell asleep… dreaming of her.

*** one month later ***

It was Fresh Love photoshoot day, or as I thought of it, the day I finally get to meet Y/N after crushing on her this past month. I got to the studio before any of the models were scheduled to arrive so I could talk with the photographers and mark out the spaces where I wanted to shoot. I get upstairs and see someone siting in a chair outside the photography studio. When they hear me approaching they look up, and my breath hitches in my throat, it was Y/N. My heart immediately started beating faster, but I knew I had to keep it cool both professionally and so I don’t utterly embarrass myself in front of her.

“Chris! Hey, I’m sorry I know the models aren’t supposed to be here for another hour. Honestly I was hoping to catch a moment alone with you before we shoot.” She says nervously with a big, beautiful smile on her face. She wanted to see me? Alone? I hadn’t realize I went silent for a moment while I was caught up in my thoughts until Y/N interrupted.

“Umm I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just such a huge fan of yours and your brothers, and I wanted to tell you that. Also to tell you I am so grateful and excited to be modeling for Fresh Love. I love your brand and own a few things from it already just from following you for a while now.” She says.

“Oh, no you didn’t scare me! Sorry, I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone this early. I’m happy to hear you’re a fan, and thanks for supporting my brothers and I, it means a lot. I really liked your modeling application and I’ve been looking forward to shooting with you.” I replied. I looked and sounded collected on the outside, but on the inside I was definitely nervous. I’m usually super confident talking to girls, even ones that I like, but Y/N had me acting different. She gave me a sweet smile before we walked into the studio together.

The other models started showing up as I led them to their dressing rooms where their Fresh Love clothing was waiting for them to change into. I stood in front of the backdrop for the first set of pictures and saw as the models rounded the corner all dressed in Fresh Love. Y/N wore the emerald green sweat set, and damn she looked good. The bright color just worked so perfectly with her complexion and brought out the color in her beautiful eyes. Seeing my own brand on her body drove me crazy. Man, this chick has me on a leash.

As time went by the photographers took group shots of all the models together, and some individual shots of each of them. When it came time for Y/N individual shots she was a natural. Her poses were relaxed, but strong and confident at the same time. She really wore the brand well and I was looking forward to seeing the results. She wraps up her individual shots and starts walking over to me.

“So, how did I look?” She says giving me a flirtatious look.

“Really, really great. I was thinking maybe we can get some pictures of just us two together for the Fresh Love instagram.” I said.

“Sounds great!” She says with a smile. She takes a step closer to me and leans in slightly, “Should I go change?” She asks but this time quieter so only I could hear. She makes me so nervous.

“Y-yeah. There’s, um, there’s a pair of joggers and a t-shirt in your dressing room if you want to change into that for me.” I said stuttering.

“Of course, anything for you.” She says confidently flirting with me. I think she can tell she made me nervous, and she was taking advantage of it. That’s so hot.

***

This time I was wearing the black hoodie and jogger set while Y/N wore the gray joggers and blue t-shirt. I sat on the couch we were using for the shoot, and she comes out of her dressing room to join me. She looked really great. I smiled at her and moved over so she could sit on the couch next to me.

“I’m thinking for the first few poses we just sit here kinda relaxed, looking at the camera. Then we do some where you stand behind the couch leaning over it while I sit here in front of you.” I said.

“Yeah sounds good!.” She says, and with that we start posing for the camera. The photographer has us scotch closer together, and I drape my arm behind her on the top of the couch. It was difficult to keep my eyes on the camera because all I wanted to do in the moment was to look at her. She moves off the couch to position herself behind it. “Like this, Chris?” She asks.

I turn around and see her bent over, arms crossed on the back of the couch. Fuck, her ass looks nice bent over like this. “Yeah, looks great.” I smile at her. I turn back around and the camera continues to click. We move around slightly to get different angles. She moves one of her hands to rest on my shoulder. I feel her hand slide up the back of my neck as her fingertips gently play around with my hair. The tension was palpable. I sharply inhale, a chill moving down my spine, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool much longer.

“Okay how about we call that a wrap for today. Great job everyone thanks so much for being here.” I blurt out getting off the couch, shaking a few of the photographers hands, before I quickly run into my dressing room without turning back.

***

In the dressing room I can hear the photographers packing up their gear and leave. The other models had gone home for the day, and I wasn’t sure if Y/N had left yet either. I found my answer when I hear a slight knock at the door, “Chris?” She says faintly, “Can I come in?” I’m frozen, I don’t answer before she comes into the room still dressed in her Fresh Love fit. “Are you okay? You seemed kinda frantic towards the end there.” She asks sincerely. I seriously debated telling her I liked her, but I knew that wouldn’t be professional of me.

“Yeah, I just get nervous shooting sometimes.” I lied. Y/N scoffs a little.

“You, nervous? I’ve never been more nervous for a photoshoot before. Having THE Chris Sturniolo sitting inches away for me all day long is something I had only ever dreamed of.” She laughs. “You definitely made me nervous today. God, I’m sorry I sound like such a stupid fangirl right now.” She says looking down.

“I never would have thought you were nervous. You seemed super confident today.” I say.

“Maybe. I tried to be confident so I could impress you.”

“Impress me?” I say a little surprised. She looks up and nods her head. I stand up and approach her meeting her in the middle of the room, “You’ve impressed me plenty, pretty girl.” I’m unsure of where this sudden boldness came from, but I could tell Y/N liked it when her body relaxed, and I could see her whole demeanor change. She looked up at me with seductive eyes.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she runs her hand up my arm before resting it on my chest, “I’m sure I can impress you in other ways too.” Her eyes flash from mine down to my noticeable, growing erection, and then back up to my lips. I can’t keep it in any longer. I lean down and kiss her soft lips, her hand meets the side of my face and my lips part for her to deepen the kiss moving her tongue across mine. We step back and my back hits the wall when her lips move from mine down to my neck bitting and sucking ever so gently.

“Fuck.” I moan softly. I feel her smile into my neck, and she moves a hand down to gingerly palm my boner over my pants.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you like this all day.” She says breathlessly as she pulls away from my neck to look me in the eyes.

“Oh yeah? What else have you wanted to do princess?” I ask suggestively. She smiles, and with that she drops to her knees. She hooks her fingers in the band of my sweatpants before pulling them down to my knees. She places soft kisses on my dick through my underwear, and the slight contact made me groan.

“Eager, aren’t we?” She says as she begins to pull my underwear down. My rock hard dick springs up and hits my stomach and her eyes widen while her mouth parts. She looks up at me and I begin to wrap her hair in my hand holding it back for her while the other gripped the chair next to me as I brace myself. She plants tiny kisses on my thighs on either side of my dick, and the teasing had my cock twitching with every kiss.

“Please, Y/N, please stop teasing.” I sigh. She runs her tongue from the base of my cock on the underside of my dick to the tip where she licks the precum from the slit. She swirls her tongue around my head a few times before pulling away and spitting into her hand. She spreads the wetness on my length as she pumps me a few times before wrapping her lips around my head and pushing her head forward. I let out a moan when I feel my dick hit the back of her throat. She keeps one hand tight at the base of my cock, pumping and twisting it as she bobs her head up and down on it. I’m a whimpering mess. My grip tightens in her hair as I help move her head at a steady pace. Her hand lets go of my shaft as she moves her head all the way forward, taking my full length into her mouth gagging slightly. I look down to see her already looking up at me with tears forming in her eyes. I felt my dick twitch in her mouth as I was close to cumming, but I tugged her hair and pulled her off my length before I could do so.

I move the chair I had been grabbing onto with one hand as my other reached for her chin and guided her to stand.

“Sit.” I demanded. She obliged and sat in the chair as I got to my knees and started pulling the sweatpants off of her. I caress her thighs with my big hands before pulling her thong off and I stare at her dripping wet cunt.

“Did I make you this wet?” I ask, and all she can do is shake her head. “I want you to use your words pretty girl.”

“Yes.” She whines out. “You always make me this wet.”

“Always?” I question. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” I ask. She nods her head again.

“Yes.” She says.

“Do you use your fingers when you touch yourself, princess?”

“Yes” she says. My fingertips move agonizingly slow up and down her folds spreading the wetness around.

“And who’s fingers do you imagine are pumping inside of you when you’re touching yourself baby.”

“Yours Chris. Always yours.” She moans out. Without warning I shove two of my fingers deep into her cunt eliciting a sweet moan from her lips. I pump my fingers in and out of her at a fast pace causing her to grip the back of my head roughly, my hair tight in between her fingers. I kitty lick her clit and curl my fingers inside her.

“F-fuck Chris.” She moans out. I continue moving my fingers in and out of her while I lay my tongue flat licking up and down her clit, sucking on it for a few seconds at a time. She pants, trying to catch her breath as she breathes heavier.

“Chris. CHRIS— I’m gonna cum.” With that I immediately pull my fingers out of her and raise my head.

“Not yet, princess. I want you to cum all over my cock for me baby.” I wrap my arms under her thighs and lift her off of the seat carrying her over to the makeup vanity counter across the room. I place her down and she stands facing me.

She reaches for the hem of her shirt to take it off, and I abruptly stop her grabbing her wrist tightly.

“Leave it on princess. I want to watch myself fucking you while you wear my clothes.”

My hands reach her waist and turn her around roughly pushing down on her upper back to bend her over across the counter. I look in the mirror to see her flushed face and eyes blown with lust. I had never been so sex hungry before. I ripped my hoodie off, and began to align my dick at her entrance. I slid the head of my dick in between her folds getting it nice and wet before I pushed in slowly making me groan loudly. Y/N gasps as I enter her, not ready for my size. I bottom out and stand still, letting her adjust to my length. Suddenly, without warning she begins to lean forward and back moving herself on my cock.

“Please move, Chris.” She begged. I smiled at her in the mirror. I started moving in and out of her with slow, hard thrusts. Her walls were warm and tight around my cock. We moaned together as I kept the steady pace.

“Chris?” She says.

“What is it princess?” I look at her in the mirror, half of her now messy hair covering her flushed pink face. She adjusts her arms to grab the front of the countertop. She lifts her chest up slightly, and the FRESH on her shirt is now visible in the mirror.

“Fuck me. Harder.” She pleads, and that was all I needed to hear. I went absolutely feral. I grabbed her hair with one hand making sure to pull her up enough that I could see her Fresh Love shirt in the mirror. My other hand laid flat just above her ass, pushing down so I could balance myself as I relentlessly thrust in and out of her tight pussy.

“Fuck. Fuck, Y/N! You feel so good pretty girl.”

“Chris, I’m gonna cum…” She whines breathlessly.

“Good girl. I want you to cum all over my cock for me.” I say back. We make eye contact in the mirror and I feel her walls clench around me sending a pulsating sensation through my cock, and I knew I was close too. Her face scrunches and she repeatedly moans my name. I feel her cunt tighten and relax around me as she comes all over my cock, and we maintain eye contact as she does.

Seeing her face while she came on my dick was what I needed. My thrusts got harder and sloppier as I felt my dick twitch inside her.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N! Oh, FUCK.” I moan loudly as I feel myself release my big load into her pussy, my cum coating her walls. I thrust a few more times riding out my high before pulling out seeing our orgasms drip out of her cunt. Y/N turns to face me, and tries to stand but fails as her knees wobble and she grabs the countertop as to not fall down. My hands grab her sides to help balance her.

“You’re amazing, princess.” I say to her. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I place a gentle kiss on her lips before moving my hands to the bottom of her shirt pulling it up. She raises her arms up as I lift the Fresh Love tee over her head. I crouch down and gently begin wiping her clean with the t-shirt.

“Chris! Not the Fresh Love shirt!” Y/N says surprised and in a concerned tone of voice.

“Baby, it’s my brand. I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” I smirk, earning a cute giggle from her.

**********

This was my first time writing smut and I think it’s kinda trash but lmk what your thoughts are.

- Kay 🖤

[reginamillls]

I wanted to spread some good vibes in the fandom, so what are five cute headcanons you have about BuckTommy or Tommy? 🥰 And if you want to, send an ask like this to someone else.

OH THIS IS CUTE ty for sending this to me

1. I AM A CAT DAD TOMMY TRUTHER

so obviously he has one in the future but I'm imaging a much smaller, younger Tommy who would sneak out and feed the stray cat in his yard

who coaxed the cat to trusting him and who found the cat a home when his father wouldn't allow it

for a little while he had something soft in his life who loved him just for him

2. Tommy is the kind of guy who is aware that he's a big guy you know? he helps people get things off of the top shelf in grocery stores and volunteers to help pick up heavy things - he's the friend who actually means it when he says he would help someone move

3. one time when Tommy was really low and was just so tired about hiding things, he came across a food tuck that had a pride flag pinned proudly to its's side - all of the food was puns and it was run by three college aged kids and the owner - Tommy sat outside on a picnic table near the truck for the longest time and when he finally ordered - something sweet, this man has a sweet tooth - it was met with a smile, something bright when things were hard, and he followed this truck on instagram and when he was finally out he would bring people to the truck and he is one of their best customers and the owner has a picture of Tommy with the truck on their socials and they make food up for him on the spot - and when he brings Buck there for a date they all know who he is "THE FAMOUS EVAN" and Tommy blushes so hard

4. Tommy's clothes are comfortable and practical, he has a few "good shirts" for the occasional dates but otherwise he just picks what fits - at some point he picked up a jacket from a thriftshop and didn't even know it was designer until someone pointed it out - when Buck buys him a soft cashemere sweater for the colder weather, Tommy wears it and kisses Buck softly and he starts adding a little more color in his wardrobe, but he never feels pressure to, he just likes Buck's smile when he wears them

5. Tommy "avoid lonlieness through various hobbies" Kinard has made candles, he's taken chocolate making classes, he rock climbs when he cans and has had several ball room lessons, at some point he even tried horse back riding, he's done a little bit of everything and later he shares these various hobbies with the family he finally finds

[lokischocolatefountain]

Salvation

Series Masterlist

Kind of a sequel to Say No to Me, but can be read as a standalone fic

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (warnings: mild choking, name calling, Papi kink, Mami kink, handcuffs, crying, spanking, fingering, mild cuckolding kink. Justification of violence and American imperialism?? Idek you guys)

Word count: 5.8k words

Summary: Shaken to his core by witnessing Colonel Carillo shoot a kid, Javier comes home guilty and questioning the role he plays in the war against drugs.

A/N: Say No to Me did soooo well, so I wrote a little more about about Javi and his wife. Hope people like this too 🥺🥺🥺. Warning: The characters’ views on violence and geopolitics are not my own.

“I don’t see the difference.”

“What do you mean you don’t see the difference? Those assholes poison this country, poison the US. We’re trying to stop them.”

It was their first argument. Leave it to him to bring work home and argue about it with the pretty professor he’d been dating. His job was always a point of contention for them. She didn’t care that he flaked out on dates, forgot to turn up for dinner with friends and slinked into bed late at night with no explanation as to where he’d been. No. What she worried about was the fact that he was a man with a gun.

The first time he met her outside the restaurant the both of them frequented, he was on a raid where her friend happened to live. He’d opened a door, gun in hand, just like he opened many other doors in Columbia in his quest for men associated with the Medellin cartel. He’d surveyed the rest of the place like he always did. Behind the woman was her. The beautiful woman he’d been buying buñuelos for at the restaurant like he’d buy a drink for a woman at a bar. The woman who’d smiled at him in a silent thanks each time the waitress brought her the buñuelos he ordered for her. The one who reciprocated by sending him coffee.

She never saw him the same again. She stopped meeting his eyes when before, she’d always looked around for him shyly. She stopped eating at the restaurant, opting instead for takeaways he found her eating in her car. He’d confronted her, sweet-talked her and gotten her to take his buñuelos again. Talked her into having coffee with him every morning and took her back to his place to fuck.

They always wondered out loud to each other what life would be like had he not done that.

“I wouldn’t be picking up dirty socks from all over the apartment.”

“And I wouldn’t find hair clogging the drain. But I would also be perpetually single.”

“And that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Bad thing. No wife to come home to. No one to wake me up with a warm wet mouth around my cock.”

“Jodón!”

“Te amo, Cariño. Eres mi corazón, mi conciencia.”

If he weren’t a married man, he would have driven to the brothel he used to frequent before he decided he would go on a date with her. He’d take the first willing woman he saw and fuck his pain, his frustrations, his failures into her. She’d be nothing but a warm wet thing in which to bury everything for a bit of cash.

Doing that with his wife didn’t take away the pain or the frustration. It produced guilt. Finding hand-shaped bruises and bite marks on her body made her hide her face in his chest to keep her sweet shy smile away from him. But it just made him feel undeserving of her, like he was tainting the one truly good thing in his life with his violence and brutality.

Her black and white perspective on his job changed eventually. Marriage wouldn’t have been possible without it. For the first time, he felt a pang of guilt for deceiving her into marrying him. When it was just coffee and sex, she insisted that he keep his gun and badge away from her sight. They scared her. He felt offended that she wouldn’t accept him whole.

Eventually he stopped hiding work from her. She grew comfortable with his gun on their bedside table along with her pretty night lamp, books, personal diary, jewelry, and framed picture of their wedding at the embassy. She no longer flinched when she wrapped her loving arms around him and found his gun tucked in the back of his jeans.

He changed her, turned her into someone who could casually listen to him vent about the day to day violences of his job. Turned her into a woman who shared a bed with the kind of man who stood by as his colleague put a gun to a kid’s head and pulled the trigger. He wanted to drive off to the closest bar and drink himself to death, but as though on autopilot, he’d already driven himself home. He parked the jeep in the garage, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

What should he have done to stop Carillo? Could he have stopped him at all? It wasn’t as though he knew what the man would do… Or maybe he did. He couldn’t plead innocence over Carillo’s actions when he was the one celebrating his return, knowing fully about his cruel tactics. He sensed something was off when Carillo made those kids kneel on the ground, hands on their heads. Some of them still had baby fat in their cheeks. The Colonel knew what he was going to do. It was why he left Steve behind.

Steve was given immunity from these cruelties. While he’d been a bachelor when he first met Carillo, Steve was always the family man with a pretty wife to go home to. And now a baby. Now, he was also a family man with someone awaiting his return. Did Carillo not know that? Did he not see the glimmering gold band around his finger? Or did Carillo see something in him that indicated he was prepared to witness such horror? Something that said he lacked a heart unlike Steve. How did Carillo manage to go home to his wife and kids? How did he hold them in his bloodied hands?

“Javi?”

She’d opened the jeep door and he hadn’t heard a thing. He was truly out of it.

He whispered her name as she cupped his cheek, taking all the comforts that her touch afforded. He closed his eyes and swallowed as the guilt set in. The kid’s parents would need comfort tonight, not him. He didn’t deserve this. He should pry her hand off of him, reject her gentle touch. Stop her from tainting herself further.

She leaned close to him and he hummed gratefully for the proximity that allowed him to breathe in the fresh scent of her citrusy soap and her coconut shampoo.

He said her name again, like a prayer, like she was his god and he, a devotee who sought her for salvation. “It’s going to be okay, mi amor. Whatever it is…It’s going to be okay.”

“I need you,” he said as he nuzzled into her neck.

“You have me, Javi. I’m right here, whatever you need. Okay?” She swept her fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp, already taking care of him.

He hopped out of the car with a renewed energy now that he had her permission. “Need you right here, baby,” he muttered hurriedly and curled an arm around her waist, picking her up and placing her on the hood of the jeep. He tugged at the satin tie holding the robe together, untying it to reveal her in her purest form. No underclothes, no jewelry except her rings, just her. He palmed her shoulders and pushed the garment off of her, holding himself back from ripping it off when she took a few seconds too long to free her arms from the sleeves.

He spread her legs apart, mumbling, “Need to see you, querida. Need to see your pretty pussy.”

He placed a hand on her belly and pushed, forcing her to lie back down on the hood. It had to be uncomfortable, but he couldn’t think beyond getting his dick wet. She said whatever he needed, so he was going to take whatever he needed. He was going to take everything he could out of her, leave her spent and unable to offer him anything more.

He pushed her legs wider, spreading her out obscenely for his eyes. Her body held marks of their passion. Her knees were bruised from kneeling at his feet and bringing him pleasure with her lips. Bruises of various colors were scattered all over her, tainting the pure smooth skin she brought into their relationship.

She left her marks too. If he looked in the mirror, he would see the crescent shaped scars she’d left behind, some still healing from spilling blood for her. He would find that her name was etched on every scratch and bite she left behind, claiming him as hers and contrasting between the scars he did not ask for, scars he earned chasing sicarios on rooftops.

Javier was marked by all the successes and failures of this perpetual chase of the bad guy. He’d tripped, fallen, jumped from balconies, been shoved into walls, pistol whipped and grazed by bullets.

She’d asked him for one thing only when he was on one knee in front of her— Give me all of you, Javi. So he did. He came home every evening, touched her with hands covered in the blood of the innocent collateral damage in this war.

He bent over her and pressed his chapped lips on her plush ones as his hand found her breasts. She tasted sweet as she always did. There was something beyond the sweet treats she was so fond of. It was just her, just the sweetness of her heart and the kindness of the words uttered by those lips. Once upon a time, she did not like his taste. Their first kiss had her pull away, face scrunched and the lips that’d rejected him complaining about the taste of cigarettes. He used to keep a pack of gum on him at all times- in his pocket, in the glove compartment, on his bedside table, in the living room just to rid himself of the vile taste of his terrible days so he could drink her sweet moans from her lips.

She no longer complained. She’d gotten used to it, had grown to like it even. They didn’t want to waste time washing away the day’s traces before getting lost in each other. They took each other as they were, accepted the ugly and the gruesome, the sweat and the weariness, the mistakes and the guilt.

He released her from the kiss and nudged her chin up by his nose. She whimpered quietly and returned her hand to his shoulders to push his leather jacket off. He helped her out, shrugging the garment off and letting her hands run over his chest with only the thin gray shirt separating them. He nibbled on her chin, reining himself back so as to not bite too hard. She had to be a few orgasms in to enjoy such roughness. He fondled a breast in his hand, pinching his index and middle fingers together to tug at her nipple.

The vibrations of her moan as he kissed down her throat went straight down to his cock. He marked her all the way in his journey from her neck to her cunt. Kiss, bite, suck, nip. Kiss, bite, suck, nip. Kiss, bite, bite, bite—

Mine, mine, mine.

Fingers found her cunt faster than his lips that were busy marking her as his. He rubbed her with his tainted hand and she raised herself off the hood of his jeep to meet his hand. He pushed her back down and placed a firm hand on her belly, pressing down to send a message.

Stay down. Obey.

She stayed put, taking only what he gave. Slick coated the tip of his finger as he pushed between her pussy lips. “Were you touching yourself before I came home, querida?”

“Yeah,” she managed to voice.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” He asked as he pushed a finger in, roughly and with no mercy. She gasped silently as she squirmed on the metal surface.

“Sorry,” she whined as he found the spot inside her that drove her wild, one that her dainty fingers couldn’t reach. “Papi, ‘m sorr—” she shrieked as he pinched her clit.

“What did I tell you about touching what’s mine?” He asked, getting irrationally angry about her pleasuring herself. Useless. Useless on the job, useless at home. An absent and neglectful husband whose wife had to resort to touching herself.

“That everything that’s yours is mine too.” He could hear the smile in her voice as she recalled the sweet beginnings of their marriage even when spread out in the most vulgar way for him.

“Everything. Except this,” he said, palming her cunt. “Let me just have this. All for myself.”

“So you’ll be a good boy and share everything else? Lend my ass to some other guy, it’ll be f—” she gasped mid-sentence as he grabbed her throat and pulled her up to meet him face-to-face.

“You letting other guys in when I’m not looking, baby?” He asked, applying the slightest pressure around her neck. He knew she would do nothing of that sort. He wouldn’t either. For all his faults as a husband, he was loyal. But they liked pretending sometimes. It played into his insecurities a little, into his fears of being so inadequate for her that she had to look elsewhere. It wasn’t a fear for him sexually. Yet. But it angered him when she asked a colleague to do so much as put up a shelf in their living room. That was his job as her husband.

“Hmm, sorry Papi… He was right there and I really missed you,” she played along as she thumbed his lips.

“Told you you were all mine, baby…” he said, pinching her clit just hard enough to bring her the pain she craved from her. She jumped and wrapped her legs around him, the heels of her feet digging into his back.

“You just told me that just now! How was I supposed to know before this?”

“Put a ring on it, didn’t I?” He said before he took her left hand and thumbed her rings. “I put three on it, in fact. What else is a man supposed to do, hmm? Put a collar on you?”

Her breath hitched, letting him know that she very much liked the image he put in her head. He took it as his cue to continue, “Would you like that? Hmm? I’ll finally make you look like the bitch in heat that you are.” She tightened around his finger and dug her feet into his back harder as though she wanted to pull him closer.

“Hnnngg please!” She whined as she began fucking herself on his middle finger. He added his ring finger, making her fuck herself on the finger that showed the world who he belonged to. Showed the world that he belonged. Showed him he wasn’t a lone man, that there was someone home who gave a fuck. He pressed the pad of his thumb on her clit, circling it gently, barely touching as she used his fingers for his pleasure.

“Javiii!” She cried his name, her voice grabbing at his heart. He belonged. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled her flush against his chest, needing to feel her skin against his.

“Yeah, baby. ‘M here, I’m yours,” he whispered into her neck and sucked on that spot that was bruised from all the times he’d wrapped his lips around it because he knew it made her melt in his arms.

She moaned his name over and over— Javi, Javi, Javiii— and he drank in all of it as he fucked her with his fingers. It grounded him, her moans. Told him she was real, this life they had was real and pushed away the horrors he’d participated in. He was just Javi, her husband Javi who just came home from work and made her scream his name. Not Agent Peña.

“Come for me, Cariño,” he encouraged when he felt her nearing her peak. He continued doing what he was doing, kept up the pace, kissed her neck and squeezed her tits, taking turns between each one when she finally collapsed in his arms, dropping her entire weight on him as she gasped for breaths.

“Want more,” she whined, her voice raspy from screaming his name. She palmed him through his jeans, making him hiss before she moved up to his belt buckle and tugged impatiently. “Want your cock, Papi.”

“Greedy little thing,” he scolded before kissing down her neck. “I just made you come, didn’t I? You’re still shaking but you already want more?”

“Pleeeeease!” She cried, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and letting her hands roam his chest. “I missed you.”

“Missed me? I fucked you silly in the morning before you went to work. Did you forget?”

“Missed you all day. I thought about it the whole time, thought about your cock.” She said, palming him through his jeans. He managed a smirk, trying his best to not let her know how much her touch affected him already.

“Thought you were more professional than that, bebita. Did you rub one out in the restroom thinking of me? Take a break from teaching to touch this wet little cunt for me, Mami?” He asked as he touched her gently, knowing she was still sensitive from how he played her with his fingers.

She shook her head and nuzzled into his neck, her bashful smile catching his attention before she could hide it away from him. “Can’t disappoint my darling wife, now can I?” He teased, quickly unbuckling his belt and undoing the button and zipper of his jeans to free himself. She reached behind him and squeezed his ass before she grabbed his gun and set it aside on the hood.

The cavalierness of her action struck him. The woman who was frightened by the mere sight of his gun was now handling it casually. If he had noticed it any other day, he would’ve been proud. But not anymore… He had changed from the ambitious fool he used to be in Laredo. And he had changed her.

“Hmm yeah, don’t want your wife letting other men in her ass,” she teased as her hands roved over his torso, the pointed tips of her nails making the hairs on his arm stand up. She reached his dick and wrapped her hand around it when he decided enough was enough. He slapped her hand away, pulled her off the hood and turned her around before pushing her back down face-first. It happened so quickly that she didn’t seem to realize what had happened.

Usually, he felt guilty only after taking his frustrations out on her. Now, he felt the guilt had already begun to surround him, thickening the air he breathed until he felt it was choking him.

“Stay right there,” he ordered, holding her down as he reached into his pocket for his handcuffs. He snapped the cold metal around her wrists and leaned over to whisper into her ear, “I’m gonna take you rough, cariño. Can you handle it?” When she nodded, he asked her again, “Will you let me fuck you hard? That’s okay tonight? I need to hear a yes. A clear yes.” The nodding wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t feel right in the head and he needed her to be clear.

“Yes, Javi,” she said, turning a little, her cheek pressed on the hood as she met his eyes. “I want it. I’ll tell you to stop if it gets too much.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he pulled his leather belt off through the loops of his jeans. As the leather cracked in the air, he noticed her ass clench. He grabbed a handful of her behind and let go before swatting the flesh. Mesmerized by the jiggling of her behind, he let her find reprieve for a few second before he repeated the motion for the other cheek. He reduced the gaps between each slap to her ass, enjoying her screams and cries, unbothered about whether they were waking the entire damn neighborhood.

When he felt she was adequately prepared, he folded his belt in two, holding the metal buckle tight in his hand and wrapping the excess leather around his fist to make sure he didn’t accidentally hit her with it. They liked leaving marks on each other, but none that would be as painful and permanent as the damage metal would cause. He reached between her legs and found her pussy, wet from her cum, making her let out the soft sounds he would lock up in the depths of his mind to look back on whenever he missed her.

“Love the pretty sounds you make for me, bebita,” he praised, pleased with himself as he caught her dazed smile. As much as he liked seeing her in the throes of pleasure, he liked it more when he could bring out her sweet smiles. It made him proud, knowing he could do that to her.

“Think you forgot the belt, Papi…” she said softly, her tone contradicting the depraved thing she was requesting.

“So eager,” he mumbled, his words buried by her scream when his belt made contact with her ass. “Quiet, querida. You don’t want to wake our neighbors. Don’t want them to run over here to check on you now, do we? They might accuse me of being an abusive husband and I will be forced to explain that my little pain-slut of a wife begs for this shit.”

She trembled underneath him, holding her hand up to seek comfort. He took her hand glady, entwining their fingers and giving it a kiss before he dropped it back down. She huffed in disappointment, making him feel just a little guilty for taking her comfort away from her. Promising himself that he would give her all the love and affection she needed after this, he slipped his ring finger inside her. He was met with no resistance and he enjoyed how she took him in, enjoyed how she dripped down his finger and coated the gold band with her deliciousness.

“You would like that, won’t you? My little exhibitionist. I knew you were one when you made me finger you in my jeep before I could take you home for a proper fuck,” he reminded her of their first time together, delighted in himself as she tightened around him. He gave her a few quick pumps before withdrawing abruptly to make her taste himself on his fingers. He tightened his grip around the belt and landed another one, the black leather kissing her skin. His hand effectively muffled her scream, but she bit down on him hard, making him hiss.

He fucked her mouth like he fucked her pussy, aloowing himself to be satisfied with how her tongue swirled around his fingers. Forgetting himself, he pressed himself against her ass, grinding to relieve himself just a little. She pushed back at him and he took a step back, realizing what he’d done.

“Mierda!” He cursed. This was not the right time to rub the rough denim of his jeans on her sensitive behind.

“Lo siento, mi amor…” he apologised, bending down to kiss her temple. “Just… can’t wait to have you.”

“Just a— just few more, Javi baby…then— and you can have me,” she breathed out between pants.

“How many more? How many can you take?”

“Four. Each. No breaks, just go. Alternate it.”

“Sí, Mami,” he nodded, taking her command. He crumbled up the soft tie of her robe and pushed it into her mouth before he stood back and took quick aims, raining her with one hit after another.

Her cries and screams were muffled by the cloth he’d shoved in her mouth, but he was certain she would be heard if someone happened to walk by the garage door. While this was a safe neighborhood thanks to it being embassy staff quarters, late night screams were unfortunately not a rare thing for the city. At other times, it chilled him to the bone and made him want to send an armed bodyguard with his precious girl wherever she went. Now, he contented himself with the fact that nobody would come knocking to check on the poor screaming woman.

He pushed his jeans down to his knees and lined himself up with her tight, wet heat before forcing himself in.

“Feel. So. Fucking. Good.” He grunted, alternating each word with a thrust into her pussy. She gripped him so tight, so good, so fucking good.

“Dios mío, Mami. Tan perfecto,” he spewed praises, grabbing her hair with his fingers and giving her a painful tug to force her to show him one half of her face. She was utterly debauched, freshly washed hair all tangled up in his hand, eyes glazed over with everything he gave her, lips bruised and swollen and cheeks covered in her tears. He was sick in the head, he knew that and God, she knew that too. He was a sick fuck, making her cry for him, getting himself harder in her cunt as he watched her spill more tears from his thrusts.

“Lo siento,” he mumbled, still giving her what brought on the tears in the first place. He knew she wanted it, she’d told him so several times, reassured him as she cradled him in her loving arms. She understood him, sometimes more than he did. She knew the depths of his wretched would and found herself a place in it rather than running away screaming.

But that didn’t make him stop apologizing, “Lo siento, Lo siento, por favor… Mi amor, perdóname, por favor—” his words caught in his throat and he let out a sob around her name. He let his tears fall, bent over her and slipped an arm around her shaking body to pull her close to himself. He buried his cries into her neck as his thrusts slipped out of rhythm.

She spat out the cloth that he’d stuffed her mouth. “Javi? Are you okay, baby?”

He shook his head, unable to hide himself from her any longer. “No te merezco,” he whispered.

“Uncuff me. Wanna— need to touch you,” she begged. He snapped her cuffs open, having left it unlocked for her safety. Her hand was on her immediately, comforting him with her touch.

“Javi…I got you, honey. I got you,” she reassured him, taking his hand in hers and giving him a squeeze. He peeked out a little like a frightened yet curious child and caught the gleaming silvery metal of his pistol on the hood. It simply sat there, too close to his wife, not inspiring the fear it should in her. He’d ruined her so much that she could simply have it in her line of vision when she took him.

“Lo sien—”

“Javi, Javi, it’s okay. Everything’s okay, mi amor… It’s alright.”

“Dime que me quieres,” he begged. He needed to know, needed to hear that she still loved him even though he doubted she would if she knew Agent Peña as much as she knew her husband Javi.

“Te quiero, te amo, Javi. Mi amor, mi corazón, mi—” she whined as he unknowingly hit a spot. All these years knowing her and he somehow didn’t know that this did it for her. He repeated the motion, thrusting in the exact same angle with the same vigor that made her cry so sweetly.

The world turned hazy around him and for just that moment, he was just Javi, just her Javi. He belonged to her and the pleasures she brought him, belonged right in her sweet pussy that made his lips moan her name over and over and— He let out sounds he didn’t recognize to be from his throat as she gripped him like a vice and he struggled with the in and out motions, needing to just bury himself in her for eternity and never leave. As though she’d heard his plea, she granted him the high he’d come home craving, pushing him over the edge yet holding onto him, keeping him safe, keeping him hers.

He stayed put even after he’d spilled inside her, needing the closeness, needing to surround himself in all her goodness whether he deserved it or not.

“Javi…What happened, baby?” She asked, caressing his hand with a tenderness that warmed his heart. “What were you apologizing for? What happened?”

He removed himself from her and turned her around to face him. He kept his eyes on the ground as he retrieved the robe that had fallen to the floor. He draped the fabric around her and she stumbled as she took a step ahead. He pulled his jeans up and zipped up before he surveyed her form. She couldn’t walk without limping. Fuck! He was the piece of fucking shit.

He picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him on his chin and then on his cheek, keeping her eyes on his as he carried her through the corridors. It was thankfully too late for anyone to be wandering outside.

He laid her out on the couch when they got home, opting to sit on the floor at her feet rather than next to her. She let him place his head on her lap and even massaged his scalp with her caring hand. He shut his eyes and let himself get lost in the feeling, needing the comfort despite being undeserving.

“You were right,” he spoke quietly into the night.

“About what, mi amor?” Another time, he was sure she would have laughed and said she always was.

“When you said you didn’t see a difference. Our first fight. You said you didn’t see the difference between them and us. ‘S bad no matter who does it, the violence. Guns.”

“That was a long— why are we talking about this now? Is that what’s got you so worried? Javi, I didn’t know what I know now. It was a very…reductive way of thinking about it. I told you that much later.”

He felt he’d manipulated her somehow, put the perspective of the bright-eyed young Javier who’d come to Columbia to be ‘the good guy’ who put bad guys in jail and saved the world or whatever the fuck he thought he was going to do. He had done good, sure, but the bad… Oh god the bad.

“Carillo is back.”

“Yeah, you told me…”

“Whenever we go on a fucking operation, the guys we’re trying to nab are always a step ahead of us. Escobar’s got informants everywhere. Kids. Some the size of your nieces. Couple teenagers. Bad situation at home, either they don’t have a choice, or they don’t yet understand what the hell they’re doing… I thought we were just going to scare them. We rounded them up, Carillo was doing the talking. This kid got too mouthy, you know that kind of teenager with the ‘fuck the police’ attitude and enough blind courage fuelled by his newfound independence… It just felt off, baby. I should’ve done something, but— This is how it’s going to go from now on and everyone will turn a blind eye because we’re just that desperate.”

“Javi… Tell me what happened.”

“He shot him,” he managed to say. “Carillo shot the kid. To make a fucking point.”

Her hand stilled in his hair and her eyes widened. “I want to think there’s a difference, but it’s getting harder and harder everyday to see it. Escobar’s using these kids to save his own ass and we’re killing them to send him a fuckin’ message.”

“You didn’t pull the trigger.”

It was a statement, but he replied as though it was a question. “I didn’t pull the trigger.” He was a piece of shit, but he needed her to know that he hadn’t gotten that bad.

“You can’t carry others’ sins on your back, Javi.”

“I was there when—”

“So were the others. And Carillo pulled the trigger. You think he’s at home apologizing to his wife?”

Yeah but you didn’t marry Carillo.

He shook his head and she took his face in her hand, cradling his cheek like he was something precious. “You do what you can, Javi. Your hands are as clean as can be for a DEA Agent. You can’t bear other men’s sins. And you can’t change how entire governments operate.”

“You wouldn’t have said that before.”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have. Back then, I didn’t have to stay up all night waiting to hear my husband’s car arrive so that I could run to him and see for myself if he’d come home to me in one piece. I was on the outside before but now I’m in the heart of it, with you. I know you try to shield me from the worst of it. I see how you and Steve whisper about work instead of talking out loud. But I’m not naïve. I know you’re in danger most days and there are some things that you just have to do.”

“I have blood on my hands. I’m not the same man you married. And you’re not the same, I changed you. I made you believe in something I don’t believe in anymore, pulled you into my mess and—”

“It’s okay,” she declared with a quiet smile. “As long as it’s not your heart. As long as you’re not bleeding out on the streets. If you need to get blood on your hands to keep yourself alive out there, I won’t stand in your way. I don’t want you thinking about whether I would approve of the morals of what you did. I don’t care if I change. Change me, get the blood on your hands on mine and I’ll clean you up before I have to send you back out there. I don’t care who has to bleed for you to see another day. I’ll always take the man you are when you come home, no matter how much you have changed. I know in my heart that you’ll never do what Carillo did. I know who I married and it’s not a Carillo.”

She pushed his errant curls out of his face, bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. “You are the same man I married. You have heart. And you want to do the right thing. Unfortunately,” she said, taking a deep breath. “There are just some things you can’t control and you just have to let go of it to face the next day. You can’t do that with others’ sins on your shoulders. You know you have enough of your own to lug around.”

She allowed him her comforts, her words and her touch and the warmth of her lap as he put his head down. He wasn’t wholly convinced by her words, but closed his eyes knowing she would be there when he came home. She would have him, broken down and full of guilt. He would come home to her for the rest of time and find salvation in her arms and that would be enough.

.

.

.

Series Masterlist

Read my other fics here

[damnfandomproblems]

6183:

I truly hate submissions that are worded like this. They're reductive, and they flatten everything that happens online and in fandom to some kind of imaginary fantasy where nothing counts or matters.

A lot of fandom squabbles don't matter outside of fandom. A lot of people spend way too much time online and get upset over trivial crap. Powerleveling doesn't matter. Whose ship is "better" doesn't matter. Fictional characters are fictional and not real. I don't think anyone can deny that.

But let's not kid ourselves by saying all people in fandom somehow aren't "real" (yes, I do know what you're going for there, I don't need to be @'d about it) and therefore everything that happens with people in fandom, and all fandom discourse, is inconsequential. "Stop taking fictional worlds so seriously". Well, a lot of people in fandom would love to, but a pack of dicks rode their ass about how they wrote something and now they're afraid to be creative. Y'know? If you're talking strictly about the first few examples I gave above; poweleveling, ship wars, etc, I would agree with you that it's just dumb stuff to get upset over. But I hate the choice of words here because it's so nonspecific.

So I want to rant for a moment if you'll let me.

Fandom is a microcosm of real life, and especially with young people, who spend a massive amount of time online now, they take what they learn and bring it outside of fandom. Those people running around sending death to someone for writing incest? Being told they're horrible people for writing a homophobic character? A good deal of them are leaving fandom spaces with serious complexes about themselves, and they're going to hurt people. I read about an incident where a young cookie run fan went and bullied another fan, at school, to the point they attempted suicide, and their parents found out, then they found a bunch of horrifying discord interactions where the kid had been getting groomed by a "safe adult". A lot of this shit isn't just "fandom discourse", it's discourse repackaged with fandom wrapping paper and a fandom bow and ribbon. The person who doesn't have friends because they move around a lot and doesn't have a stable situation? They can find stable friends in fandom.

The use of "real person" makes me think of someone who spends all their time online and doesn't have the slightest clue, who doesn't have any perspective with talking to real people, and I'm looking around at my mom and my sister and myself, and the friends I routinely videochat with, and I'm just going… Online fandoms are all people who aren't, as you phrase it, "real"?

But that's my two cents.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for kicking someone from my server and not explaining why?

(emojis so I can find later: 🪨🪨🪨)

[This happened a few years ago, but I’ll write the ages as they were at the time.]

I (14M) made a server for a fandom I was in. It was a small fandom (I was mutuals with every single fan on tumblr) so I thought it’d be nice to have a place we can all talk other than the tumblr dashboard. This was also not my first server — I had 2 or 3 years of experience running them (having run a server with 100ish members a year or two beforehand) so I was fully confident in my ability to run a server with less than 20 people, especially since everyone knew each other and was friends already.

Now, there was this person in the server, we’ll call her B (16F). I wasn’t super close with her, but ofc I was friends with her through the fandom. We didn’t talk much — the only time I can recall us speaking outside of discord was to send fandom art requests to each other. Obviously I didn’t have a problem with her coming in, but as she spoke more in my server, I started to question whether she was somebody I wanted hanging around.

I won’t go into full depth of things she said or did (both for privacy’s sake and to keep things brief), but I’ll explain my biggest reasons for kicking her.

First, she vented a lot, which typically I wouldn’t judge, but I really didn’t want a fandom server associated with so much negativity — and not only that, but the way she vented was very… I mean, we would be telling her things she did wrong in general channels, and then she would go to the vent channel and say things like “I’m sorry I’m so stupid and such a bad person I didn’t know what I was doing wrong.” and then we’d (well, everybody else — I don’t play these games with people) all have to console her. Not only that, but she’d vent about shit like — “I’m such a bad person because I’m cis. I’m sorry for being cis.” In a server full of trans people.

Second was her ableism towards autistic people, in a server also full of autistic people (This is honestly the biggest thing I had against her). Since most of us were autistic, we headcanoned most (if not all) of the characters in the series as autistic, usually with little basis in canon. One person specifically said “I think X character is autistic” and most people agreed, until she came along and said “No, they’re too normal.” We were all kind of like “???” until somebody said “Autistic people are normal” and she said “No, they’re all learning disabled” and some other stuff I don’t remember off the top of my head. (Obviously nothing wrong with having learning disabilities and many autistic people do have them etc, it’s just the way she went about saying what she said — and also disagreeing with a harmless headcanon because a character was too “normal” to be autistic). Again, most of us are autistic and were offended by what she said.

These were the two biggest contributors as to why I kicked her from my server — there were more (usually smaller) things she did that made people uncomfortable or pissed me off, but again, I’m not going to mention everything.

So, I silently kicked her, not wanting to cause too much drama, but also fed up with her behavior. I think I also softblocked her on tumblr, not wanting us to be mutuals or friends anymore but also not seeing a block as necessary (I didn’t mind if she saw my fandom posts in the tag, for example). However, she ended up following me back and sent me an ask asking why she was kicked from the server. I believe I told her “I don’t owe you an explanation, I just didn’t want you there anymore”. I didn’t want to say “you did this, this, and this” and just have her say “I didn’t do that/That wasn’t a big deal” and turn it into an entire argument, you know? I also just didn’t want to talk to her at all. So after answering, I softblocked her again and she sent me a long rant calling me a bitch, to which I simply hardblocked her.

I’m pretty sure I was justified in kicking her from my server, but I’m not sure if I’m justified in not telling her why — I understand being confused and demanding an answer but I also know she’d been told off multiple times — and I still don’t think she’s owed a response. Maybe if we were closer friends, I would have explained why. But I don’t know. Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[vainvenus]

⌲;꒰ Groovy! ꒱

Pairing :: Johnny Cade x Fem!Reader

Synopsis :: Johnny starts to crush on Dally's new friend who's a little bit different from everyone else.

Includings :: Hippie!reader, mutual pinning, readers love languages is personal touch, wingman!Dally, panicking!Johnny, this is kinda short, fluff

An - I'm just trying to drop/finish my drafts even though i think this fandom is practically dead...send outsiders requests if you'd like though!

"I still don't get all that peace and love crap, it's not gonna solve anything." Dally scoffed as he walked beside the you and you shrugged your shoulders.

"You don't have to understand me. If you think fighting will solve everything I'll let you think that." You shrugged and Dally rolled his eyes slightly before his brows raised a little bit and he waved his hand up at a figure who was a few feet away.

"Johnny! That you, man?" He called out and the black hair boy froze like he was caught doing something illegal until he saw a familiar face and he eased up.

He walked over, looking over to the you. He took quick notice of your wardrobe, upi didn't look like too much like a Soc and you definitely couldn't of been a greaser.

You wore a white shirt that seemed a few sizes to big and bell bottom jeans that had multiple patches of different patterns along them and tan sandals. You had multiple necklaces on and a mute orange bandana.

You smiled softly at him and waved your fingers at him which made him stomach flutter a little bit.

"Aww, so you weren't lyin'! You do have friends~!" Yoi giggled, hitting the boy softly on the shoulder and the brunette rolled his eyes with a small snarl.

"Haha, so funny. Johnny, flower power. Flower power, Johnny."

"Flower power?" Johnny repeated as he shook your hand and you let out a short giggle which made his stomach flutter all over again.

"Not my real name of course, it's a nickname. My real name is [Y/n] but you can call me whatever ya' like."

"Ohh." Johnny nodded along, noticing how you still hadn't let go of his hand. Yours were warm and felt comfort at touch. "I...uh..I like your pants."

You beamed, letting go and shaking your leg a little. "Really? Dally thinks they look like an art project gone wrong."

"Because they do." Dally muttered and you rolled your eyes.

"I think they're far out, you're such a downer Dally! Hah! Downer Dally!" You laughed and Dally had let out a sarcastic chuckle with another eye roll. "Ahah. Almost busted a lung there."

"See? A downer. Johnny-man thought it was funny." You turned back to Johnny, messing with one of the loose patches on your jeans. "I could make ya' a pair- actually they probably wouldn't be your sty-"

"I'd like that!" Johnny piped up before you could shut the idea down and your eyes widened in surprised, you smiled at him. "Really?"

He nodded, smiling growing along with yours. "Groovy! I'll get onto it as fast as I can."

"Groovy?" Johnny repeated, tilting his head a little bit and you nodded. "Groovy, it's kinda like when y'all say tuff. It's just a good thing."

"Oh, groovy." Johnny said and you had giggled, patting his shoulder.

"You make it sound so weird like it's a different language or something. It's kinda cute." Johnny only smiled, trying to ignore the fact that you had called him cute.

Dally looked between the two of you, narrowing his eyes a little bit before a small smirk itched onto the end of his lips.

"Johnny, you wanna tag along with us? We were just about to head and see that new movie that just came out."

"You should, if you don't mind horror movies." You added and Johnny pressed his lips together in a small yet strained smile.

"Naw, I don't mind."

★

"I could have paid for y'all, you know. We didn't have to break in." You sighed and Dally chuckled.

"Now where's the fun in that?" He hummed as they all took their seats, a little bit away from the front.

"What kind of horror movie is it again?" Johnny asked and Dally shrugged his shoulders. He never really came to pay attention to the movies, he came to be a bother to those who were trying to.

"Some sort of slasher. Shouldn't be too frightening if you're scared."

"I'm not scared!" Johnny squeaked and you had giggled, leaning back in the chair.

"It's alright if you are. I wouldn't judge. You can even hold my hand if you want." You offered as the movie had and started. Johnny pursed his lips before he took your hand in his.

"I'm just holding yer' hand in case you get scared." He established and you had nodded, entwining your fingers with his their hands were basically locked together.

He smiled at that as he tried to focus on one thing.

Not looking like a scaredy cat.

But the movie was barley ten minutes in before Johnny had jumped back in his seat from the killer jumping out of nowhere, his scream muffled in the collar of his jean jacket.

He glanced over at you as he felt you squeeze his hand comfortingly. "Sorry.." He mumbled, his sunkissed skin growing warm from embarrassment.

"Don't apologize. You don't have to act all tough for me, Johnny. It's a horror movie for a reason." You reassured with a small smile as you moved closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Next time we can see something a little more relaxing."

"Next time?" He repeated like it was a foreign statement.

You nodded excitedly. "Yeah, next time! Do ya' not wanna see me again or something?"

"No!" Johnny quickly said. "I'd.. I'd love to see a movie with you again."

"Groovy."

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 2: Too Much of a Good Thing

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: S.Coups/Seungcheol, Joshua (cold)

Caregiver(s): Jeonghan

Word Count: 1972

Notes: The 'too much' refers to either the time spent outside in the pool in the late fall, or Jeonghan's cheating habits. Also temps are in Celsius for authenticity.

It was just another GOSE game. And the game was simple: capture the flag. Jeonghan’ task was even simpler: distract the opposing team’s guards so Seungkwan could swoop in and steal their flag. That task was made even easier with the presence of the open pool near where the blue team had hidden their flag. And, of course, Seungcheol and Joshua had been chosen as defenders. It was like a slam dunk for the green team, Jeonghan thought to himself. 

So, with zero warning, Jeonghan emerged from behind the building (which was, obviously, out of bounds), and threw his entire body against Joshua’s, sending him flying into the pool. Seongcheol barely had time to react to Joshua’s scream and the splash of the water before Jeonghan had wrapped his arms around the rapper and sent them both careening into the water. 

“YOON JEONGHAN!” Joshua was yelling when Seongcheol resurfaced, coughing up a mouthful of freezing, chlorinated water. Jeonghan was laughing like a madman.

“What the HELL?!” the leader cried, desperately scrubbing water and his hair out of his eyes. 

“I’m stopping you two from winning the game!” Jeonghan exclaimed. He hit the water victoriously. “MASTER of distraction!”

“Master asshole, more like it.” Seungcheol splashed at Jeonghan, feeling a spark of pride when the vocalist squawked in indignation. 

“Cheollie, there are cameras,” Jeonghan gasped. 

“Serves you right!” Joshua splashed at Jeonghan too. This time, the guilty man just giggled manically, splashing back at both of his friends. The splashing continued for a while until all three were laughing at the absurdity of it. 

Seungkwan ran around the corner at that moment. He stopped in his tracks, then laughed aloud. “What’re you doing?!” he exclaimed. 

“Kwannie! Get the flag!” Jeonghan called, pulling back on Joshua’s arm and Seungcheol’s shirt. “I distracted the guards!” Seungkwan snapped back into attention, snatching the flag from the nearby tree and racing back towards the front of the house. 

“I really can’t believe you,” Seungcheol sighed, deflating a bit in Jeonghan’s grip as the adrenaline of the game wore off. 

“What can I say? I like to win.” Jeonghan shrugged. 

“Oh, we’re aware.” Joshua jumped on Jeonghan from behind, hands on the older man’s shoulders and pushing him under the water. Jeonghan flailed, and his friends laughed as he resurfaced and spit the water out of his mouth. 

Seokmin and Mingyu rounded the corner, Soonyoung fast behind them, and all of them started laughing immediately. 

“We can’t leave the three of you alone for a second, can we?” Soonyoung teased, hands on his hips. 

“Seriously! It’s like… 7 degrees out here!” Mingyu exclaimed. “Are you crazy?!”

“Hannie is! He pushed us!” Seungcheol argued, pointing at the culprit. “Why did you guys let the most notorious cheater past the defense line?!”

“I don’t… I seriously don’t know how he got back here,” Soonyoung wondered, looking back and forth from the pool to where they’d come from. “Hyung you didn’t…”

“Oh, I totally went out of bounds.” Jeonghan nodded proudly. “Come on, what do you take me for? An amateur?” 

“Well, joke’s on you, cause our team won anyway.” Seokmin crossed his arms over his chest with the bravado of a comic book hero. “Mingyu accidentally tripped Seungkwan, and Hoshi grabbed the flag and took us to victory.” The vocalist high fives the dancer with more dramatic flair than wholly necessary. Jeonghan splashed at the water in equally exaggerated defeat. Seungcheol and Joshua high fived as well, the elder adding an extra splash in Jeonghan’s direction for good measure. 

“Now what is this?” Jihoon sighed, hands on his hips as he approached the pool, Wonwoo and Hansol in tow.

“Hannie-hyung pushed them in so his team could get the flag,” Mingyu explained. 

Jihoon shook his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be the most mature members of the group?”

“Age is just a number,” Jeonghan replied. Jihoon simply shook his head again.

“Alright, you goofs, get out of the pool.” At the voice on their manager (as always, outwardly disappointed but with a hint of amusement), the three eldest members quickly left the water. The chill of the late autumn air bit at their skin immediately. 

“We uh… we don’t have any extra clothes,” the director said guiltily. 

“I told them we should’ve covered the pool!” their manager hissed, not so much at the director, but to the universe. “I told them! These boys are NUTS!”

“It’s okay. It’s our fault, we can deal with the consequences,” Seungcheol assured the director. 

“Besides, Carats are gonna love this!” Soonyoung squeezed Seungcheol’s bicep, which was starkly visible with his wet shirt clinging to the muscle. Seokmin ‘oooohhh’ed’ and reached to caress the leader’s chest as well, but that got both of them a sharp smack to the hand. 

“Okay, okay, focus, boys. Let’s get this outro done and get you back home,” their manager stepped in. Seungcheol mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him as the group huddled up to recap their game of capture the flag. The three eldest were grouped all the way to the left, dripping water onto the door deck, a puddle amassing beneath them. Seungcheol wrapped his arms around both Jeonghan and Joshua when the latter had surrendered to his shivering and hugged his arms around himself. The leader couldn’t help but pinch at Jeonghan’s side, his most ticklish spot, causing a poorly restrained spasm of movement that got all three of them giggling. Watching it all, their manager couldn’t help but smile too. His boys were absolutely insane, but he wouldn’t have them any other way. 

Two days later, their manager decided he certainly WOULD like to have his group be a LITTLE more level headed when he had to physically force Seungcheol to ‘go home’ from practice because he ‘couldn’t stop coughing’ and was ‘running a fever.’ This was followed by Joshua almost fainting in the middle of the studio for the same reason. And, their manager though, honestly, if the eldest members wasn’t cooperating, what kind of example was that for the rest of the group? A pretty damning example given the stunts these boys tended to pull to play healthy; their manager certainly admired their work ethic, but there had to be a line, right? 

So that was how the entire 95 line ended up staying home instead of going out for weekend shenanigans with the team: Seungcheol and Joshua miserably ill (and guilt-tripped by their manager,) and Jeonghan as punishment for that. Admittedly, it was a self-appointed ‘punishment;’ Jeonghan did honestly feel horrifically guilty that his actions had caused his best friends to get sick, (cause what else would it have been besides their jaunt in the freezing pool?) and genuinely wanted to make up for that. 

The first problem was the Seungcheol and Joshua were both in that hazy stage of a cold where the brain either hyper-fixated on very small things, or constantly teetered the line of unconsciousness. And while Joshua was so adorably the second, Seungcheol was very hung up on the fact that this situation was entirely Jeonghan’s fault. 

Which did not help the second problem: something about having to take care of Seungcheol and Joshua just automatically put Jeonghan in silly goose mode. 

After the rest of practice without his friends, Jeonghan had told the rest of the group to go out and enjoy their night; he would shower last and bear the burden to dealing with the sick members. Therefore, Jeonghan was upstairs when the door finally closed behind Soonyoung and Seungkwan, who had been hesitant to leave their hyungs alone for even a second, despite Seungcheol’s adamance that they were fine (Joshua zoning out was not helping his case). When he was finally showered and ready, Jeonghan skipped the last few steps, wincing at the sound of coughing coming from the living room. 

He found both of his invalids on the couch, Joshua’s laying listlessly with his head in Seungcheol’s lap. The leader was scrolling on his phone as Toy Story played on the TV. It took Jeonghan a minute to realize the movie was in English. Joshua looked like he was barely paying attention, eyes heavy, but Seungcheol had likely picked the language to comfort him; Shua tended to favor English when he wasn’t feeling his best. 

“Hey.” Seungcheol looked up at Jeonghan’s voice, expression unreadable. Jeonghan settled with his elbows on the back of the couch. “What do you guys want to do tonight?”

Joshua mumbled something. 

“What was that, love?” Jeonghan asked. Silence. 

“I think his fever’s up.” Seungcheol ran his fingers through Joshua’s hair.

Jeonghan frowned. “Well then I’m gonna go get dinner ready so we can get him medicated.” 

“Not me, though?” Seungcheol’s eyes were comically large as he looked up at Jeonghan. 

The younger man flicked his forehead. “I wish your fever was up so you’d shut your mouth.” 

“Rude,” Seungcheol replied, swatting at Jeonghan’s hand. 

Jeonghan just laughed, pushing away from the couch to prepare dinner. Luckily, Mingyu, the angel, had made soup for him already, without even being asked. Jeonghan considered using the microwave, but opted to heat the soup up on the stove instead. It only took a minute or two more. 

“Dinner’s ready!” he called finally. At his voice, Joshua instantly stumbled off the couch and to the table, but Seungcheol didn’t move, squinting skeptically towards Jeonghan. 

“Did you make it?” he asked.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “No. Mingyu did.”

“Thank god.” With a sigh, Seungcheol got up and pulled out the chair next to Joshua. The youngest of the trio was staring absently at the table, only half listening to the bickering around him. Seungcheol rubbed the younger’s neck a few times, frowning at the lack of response from Joshua. 

“Um, excuse me, I think I could make a mean soup if given the opportunity. It’s not my fault Mingyu got to the utensils first.” Jeonghan slid one steaming bowl across the table, steering it in front of Joshua, who picked up the accompanying spoon as if on autopilot. 

Seungcheol scoffed. “We all know that you and the kitchen do not mix.” 

“Hey! I willingly stayed back here to nurse your sorry asses back to health! I think you owe me a little more respect.”

“Only after you got us sick in the first place!” 

“What happened to ‘we can deal with the consequences?’” Jeonghan teased. The look in Seungcheol’s eyes was pure murder. But Yoon Jeonghan was nothing if not a brazen idiot who lived directly in the leader’s soft spot. The smile on his face said as much as he placed two more bowls on the table and pushed one towards the leader. He sat down to his bowl with a flourish. “So what do we want to do tonight, boys?” 

“Cuddle.” Both Seungcheol and Jeonghan immediately softened at Joshua’s simple answer. 

Jeonghan reached out to pat Joshua’s wrist lovingly. “I think we can manage that.” 

“Only if you aren’t afraid to deal with any potential consequences,” Seungcheol teased, including spirits fingers on the word of the day. 

“When are you gonna let this go?” Jeonghan whined.

Seunghceol shrugged innocently. “I just think you should have to deal with some consequences too.”

“Joshuji!!!” The younger man looked up from his soup with wide eyes. “Help me out here. Do you forgive me?”

Joshua stared at him, the wheels in his brain taking a minute to catch up. “I forgive you…” he said finally. Jeonghan cheered while Seongcheol groaned. “But…” All eyes were back on Joshua. “I won’t forget.” 

The silence was broken by Seungcheol’s laughter. “Shua, what does that even mean?” Joshua shrugged. Both Seungcheol and Jeonghan burst into laughter with that. And Joshua, completely unaware what they were laughing at, laughed with them, simply happy to bring his friends joy.

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Pride and Fall

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Angst, Friendship Characters: Demoman & Sniper Fic Description: A few months after the events of the comics, after a lost match in the middle of a violent rainstorm, Sniper's mind is abruptly elsewhere. Demo gathers what might be wrong, and steps in to help. Warnings: TF2-typical violence, references to past character death. Beta Readers: @mechmolar and @gonturan0 ILLUTRATOR: @doctor-phil!!! Check out the illustration here! Notes: This is for the @tf2bigbang! Finally participating in one of these! (Do you ever think about the fact that Sniper died in Demoman's arms? Because I think about the fact that Sniper died in Demoman's arms a lot.)

---~~~---

Well, ye win some, ye lose some, was all Demo could think when he heard the telltale sound of an enemy spy decloaking behind him. The knife striking into his spine was excruciating, but brief, and expected.

The water immediately dousing him upon respawn was not.

With a cry of disgust, which was echoed by several other mercs who had also gotten picked off during the humiliation round, he stumbled out from the rain that was pouring through a hole in the spawn room roof. "Bloody rain season," he grumbled, wiping himself off for all the good it would do.

Soldier, who had respawned with him, crossed his arms. "We may have tasted bitter defeat, men, but that will only make our next victory that much sweeter!"

In spite of the chilly weather, Demo couldn't help smiling at his friend. "Aye, not a bad thought." He turned to see what the others thought of the sentiment: Spy was leaning against the broken spawn door, not seeming to care, while Heavy shrugged and gave a nod.

And then he saw Sniper.

The man had stumbled out from the rain, but was staring blankly at the water around his ankles, his face pale. For a moment, Demo wondered if Sniper was sick, only to realize just why Sniper might react poorly to the water everywhere.

Frowning, Demo reached out, placing a hand on Sniper's shoulder. "Are ye all right, lad?" he whispered.

"M'fine," Sniper grunted, his voice tight.

The others were saying something about the Pyro, but Demo ignored them for the time being. He kept his hand on Sniper's shoulder, his stomach sinking. "The match is over, lad. We lost."

Sniper did not respond.

"Better get yer things," Demo went on. "Ye know BLU's gonna pitch a fit if we dawdle."

Again, no response.

Sighing, Demo wrapped his arm around Sniper's shoulders. "Come on, lad," he murmured, guiding Sniper toward the lockers. "Let's get yer stuff."

Thankfully Sniper was conscious enough to retrieve his wallet and keys, and was able to carry his weapons without much of a problem, but still he never said a word. His steps sloshed heavily through the water on the floor, and he nearly fell as Demo guided him down the stairs. The others had already gone on ahead (aside from Spy, for some reason, but he seemed to know what he was about, so Demo let him be), and Demo grimaced when they finally reached the ground floor and faced the thunderstorm outside.

"Think ye can make it back all right?" Demo asked.

Sniper blinked wearily from behind his glasses. "Respawn'll send us back to base soon," he mumbled.

"Aye, if you're sure about leavin' your van behind."

Growling, Sniper threw himself forward, trudging out into the rainstorm, only to stop again, staring blankly ahead.

"Stay with me, lad," Demo grunted, throwing an arm around him again and marching through the rain, forcing Sniper's legs to move with him. He glanced over at him—not something he could do subtly with Sniper on his blind side, but Sniper was in no state of mind to notice—and frowned at seeing his companion with a hand digging into his chest. "No bullets there, friend."

Up ahead, he could barely make out blurry red shapes heading out of the sawmill territory. So they weren't impossibly behind the others—not that Demo wouldn't have been able to find his way back if they were. It might've been nice to catch up, but he didn't trust that Sniper's gangling legs would be able to keep up at the moment, with the way they were struggling to maintain a basic walking speed.

As the path led them out through the gates and turned downward, Demo winced; the path was even more treacherous here, with the rain mingling with the dirt path to create slick mud on an inclined surface. It was made worse by the others who had already traversed it. Heavy's footprints in particular were deep—he must be having a time crossing this place—and Demo took care to avoid them when possible.

"How're ye holdin' up?" he asked, raising his voice over the torrent of rain.

Sniper muttered something Demo couldn't catch.

"Aye, cannae argue with that." Sighing, Demo squinted through the rain, holding out a hand to his forehead to shield his eye for a moment. "We'll be there soon. Just hang on—"

And as he spoke, Sniper's foot caught on one of Heavy's footprints, and he slipped out from under his arm, crashing into the muddy ground below and letting out a strangled gasp.

"Aw—!" A streak of curses hissed its way out of Demo's mouth as he stooped down, preparing to lift Sniper out of the mud. "Are ye all right?"

The fall had knocked Sniper's glasses askew; his eyes were wide and unseeing, his hand gripping the side of his chest, his breathing rapid. He made no sign of acknowledgment as Demo struggled to pull him up to his feet.

"C'mon, Mundy," Demo grunted. "On your feet!"

"Th-they got me," Sniper panted between gasps. "There's no respawn."

"Sure there is, ya campy weasel! Ye were just talkin' aboot it!"

Sniper's feet scrambled and kicked against the slippery mud, and Demo heaved a sigh. "All right, lad, ye asked for this." With that, he lifted Sniper off his feet and threw him over his shoulder. "I'll carry ye back tae yer van like a sack o' potatoes if I have to."

Unfortunately carrying a grown man over his shoulder didn't exactly make the trip back any easier, but he'd navigated worse roads when intoxicated. (Speaking of, that didn't sound like a bad idea, but it could wait for now.)

But the feeling of Sniper's weight against his shoulder in combination with the humid atmosphere and rain brought another problem—memories of a doomed, underwater country, flooding with water, which was slowly turning red around him, Sniper's weight growing heavier against his shoulder, in his arms.

A sudden fear seized him, and he frantically patted Sniper's back. "Are ye still with me?" he asked, voice shaking.

Sniper did not answer, but his rapid breathing was at least not slowing dangerously, and he was not growing heavier, so, there was that.

...Not to mention they'd both just come fresh off the respawn, so neither of them would be injured. Somehow the thought was not helping as much as it should have. Demo shook his head. "Keep it t'gether, Tavish," he grunted, and kept going.

It felt like far too long before he heard the rumble of a car engine, and peered through the rain to see Engie's truck rolling out of a covered area. With a sigh of relief, Demo hauled Sniper forward and into the partially hidden area where they'd parked their cars. Only two still remained: Spy's sports car, and Sniper's van. Demo heaved Sniper onto his feet. "All right, lad. Here we are."

Groaning, Sniper stumbled where he stood before raising his head to see his truck. "...'Preciate it, mate," he muttered, feeling over his chest again. "I... uh. M'sorry about that."

"S' all right. Are ye in a state ta drive, though?" Demo huffed out a laugh. "I'd offer tae m'self, but, uh..." He tapped the side of his eye patch.

"Nah, s'fine, I can manage." Already he was pulling open the door and climbing in, and Demo joined him on the passenger's side. Only when they were inside the van did Sniper seem to finally relax, sitting back against the driver's seat, rainwater dripping off of him. He took in a few deep breaths.

Demo grunted. "Ye make it look like yer the one who had to haul yer own lifeless lump through a bloody storm."

Sniper cracked a smile, shaking his head. "Thanks for that, though."

After taking a moment to calm himself, Sniper whipped out his keys and started up the engine. With the windshield wipers slashing in front of them, they eased their way out onto the road, which was easier said than done with the muddy state said road was in. For once, Sniper pulled his glasses up, leaning forward as he squinted over the steering wheel, while Demo subconsciously gripped the door of the car to keep steady. For several tense minutes the van lumbered down the slippery, hilly road, and neither of them spoke.

It wasn't until the road leveled out that Demo let out a breath. "Glad ye shook that off, mate," he said with a relieved laugh. "I dinnae think I'd've managed."

"I can drive in just about any weather. 'Cept for snow, anyway."

Demo hummed, nodding as he watched the world pass by through the window. The rain pounding on the roof and the rumbling of the engine nearly lulled him into a doze until he took another look at the Sniper. Now that they were in a somewhat safer situation, Sniper had put his glasses back on, and was sitting back against his chair again. But he was not relaxed; he stared straight ahead at the road, not in concentration, but with a faraway look, as though he were looking at a different scene entirely.

"Ye got two eyeballs, mate," Demo said, and Sniper jumped in his seat. "Keep at least one of 'em on the road."

"Sorry." Sniper shifted uncomfortably in the rain-soaked seat. He was at least focused now, but his shoulders were hunched.

It was certainly strange seeing the man so tense, given how relaxed he tended to be outside of battle. "Are ye sure yer all right?"

Feeling over his chest and side again, Sniper frowned. "I'm not bleeding."

"That don't answer the question."

Sighing, Sniper tipped his head back. "Ask me again once we're back. After we've got a couple drinks in me though, all right?"

Any other time, Demo might have brightened at the suggestion of getting a few drinks. But in this case...

Well. He hadn't exactly become an alcoholic for the fun of it.

Nodding grimly, Demo faced the road again, feeling far too awake to nod off to the sounds of the rain and the car motor. They spent the rest of the journey in silence.

Eventually the van turned into the hidden entrance of the base before pulling into the garage. When Demo raised a brow at Sniper, he only shrugged. "It'd only get stuck in the mud if I parked it outside."

"Makes sense," Demo murmured, stepping out and heading for the fridge. Sure enough, they still had some bottles of Cerveza Royale left over from their last celebration, and he grabbed a couple plus a bottle opener before following Sniper into the base.

It was oddly quiet for a post-match evening, but then, they didn't have much to celebrate tonight. Presumably Medic and Engineer had retreated to their lab and workshop respectively, Heavy was probably eating a post-match snack, and, judging by the sounds coming from the lounge and the phone, Scout was watching TV while Soldier was on the phone with Zhanna. The mess hall was empty, but it wasn't the most comfortable place to get smashed. As it was, Demo suggested they head into the rec room, where a few couches sat in one corner.

The two of them plopped down onto the cushion. After whipping out the bottle opener, Demo cracked the bottles open and handed one to Sniper.

"Cheers, mate," Demo said, and the two clunked their bottles together before taking a swig. But, looking over at Sniper, he frowned.

Sniper took several deep gulps before pulling the bottle away and heaved a sigh. He leaned back, his head tipped up to look at the ceiling.

Silence settled over them for a moment.

"So... did ye manage tae climb on the roof o' that sawmill?" Demo ventured.

"Sort of," Sniper replied. "Turns out it has an attic space, so I crawled up in there. Not a bad place for a nest. No one thinks t' look up that high."

"Aye, that's what makes sticky-jumpin' work, too."

"Was a good spot for a while," he went on. "Got a few good shots in... 'til we lost." And then he dipped his head.

Both of them knew it wasn't the loss that bothered him.

Demo frowned, a memory striking him. "Ah, the BLU sniper, was it?"

"Yeah. Second he realized where I was, he shot at me through the ceiling." Wincing, Sniper rubbed his leg. "But that didn't kill me. The ceiling collapsing did, though."

Letting out a low whistle, Demo shook his head. "Rough way t' go, mate." He took another swig of beer. "Hate t' say it, but ye looked like death warmed over once ye came out of spawn."

Sniper snorted humorlessly. "Heh. Death..." Throwing the bottle back, he drank deeply from it before staring down at it, watching the remaining liquid swirl around within. "D'you... d'you remember New Zealand?"

Demo grunted. "Not much. I was still shakin' off that moonshine ye dosed me with."

Nodding grimly, Sniper continued: "Well... we met my parents there—my rea—my birth parents. N' they... they both buggered off."

Something struck Demo, and he sat back, brow furrowed.

"The place was flooding, my dad took the sub, and... we saw lights comin' toward us, and I thought it was my dad comin' back, and..." He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "I see the Medic, grinning like a madman and standin' with all a' Gray's men, and—"

"They shot you," Demo finished, his gaze distant. "I remember that. Remember holdin' ye above water. Didn't strike me 'til I heard the bloody grays boastin' aboot killin' ye, that there was..."

"No respawn." Sniper's head hung. "Yeah."

"I tried t' get ye to stop bleedin', but... Mate, ye were so heavy. I think ye were a corpse by the time they bullied us onto the ship."

Sniper did not lift his head.

Demo continued to stare into the distance. "I... I thought I'd lost ye." After a pause, he he took a longer drink, and belched. "Might've gone a bit mad after that. Was a right mess, cryin' and cussin' out those..."

Brows raised, Sniper turned to face him. "You were... upset over me?"

"Of course!" Demo exclaimed, swinging out his arm, and Sniper flinched back to avoid inadvertently getting hit by the bottle. "It's one thing when you're fightin' every day, dyin' and comin' right back from it, but when it's permanent?" Shaking his head, he leaned in closer, looking Sniper in the eye. "Ye think I wouldn't?"

Sniper shook his head, leaning back. "I'd captured you, mate. I poisoned you. I had a—"

Demo belted out a laugh, cutting him off. "With some o' the best moonshine I've ever had injected in me veins!" He slapped himself on the knee, grinning. "Wouldn't mind if ye shared some o' that again!"

For once, Sniper cracked a smile, letting out a huff of amusement as he shook his head. It lasted only a moment. "Didn't think anyone cared that much."

Quieting down, Demo lowered his head. "Wasn't alone. When those gray scum pried me from yer corpse, I saw the others tryin' to hold Soldier n' his lady back. They were furious, n' Spy and Miss Pauling were right torn up. Couldn't say for sure aboot the Pyro, but the thing is… I don’t think… any of us knew we cared that much aboot you.” He turned, looking Sniper in the eye. “Not until we lost ye.”

Sniper's only response was to stare forward into the darkened room, swallowing.

"...'Course," Demo went on, "I've no doubt it was worse for ye." Sighing, he studied his own bottle. "No respawn, and ye must've been out for hours. Can't imagine."

Once again, Sniper was silent, turning slightly away, his lips pulled into a tight line. He opened his mouth, shut it, then downed the rest of his bottle before saying, quickly, "I saw my parents."

"Aye, lad, we all saw yer parents. Terrible people."

"No." Sniper's voice was thick. "Not them. My real parents."

The words swam around Demo's head, their meaning confused by more than the alcohol in his system. They sank in slowly. "Yer... real parents," he repeated slowly, then blinked. "Yer adopted parents?"

Sniper nodded. "My parents." Gritting his teeth, he clenched his free fist. "You don't gotta believe me, but I know what I—"

"Lad, lad," Demo said, a chuckle shaking his words. He clapped a hand over Sniper's shoulder, and the other man jumped. "We've seen plenty o' magic, now, an' we've been ta' Hell and back. What makes ye think I wouldn't believe the opposite exists?"

Shrugging feebly, Sniper shook his head. "Medic didn't."

"Bah!" Demo waved a dismissive hand. "What's he know aboot th' afterlife?"

After heaving a long sigh, Sniper leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "Point is... I saw them, there, up in the clouds... and we talked, and..." His grip around the empty bottle tightened, and his voice became a low growl, "Dad says... says he was proud of me."

Despite the alcohol, a tension settled over the two, growing tighter and tighter. Demo swallowed, then opened his mouth to speak, only for Sniper to sit bolt upright and slam his empty bottle against the floor, shattering it.

"Bloody wanker!" he snarled. "Couldn't've said it when he was here! Couldn't've said it when we were both alive! All those years, yellin' at me over the phone, goin' on about how much he hates my job, my life choices, and now he tells me? Now? When I'm not gonna bloody see him again until—?!"

His voice cracked, and he stood abruptly, storming into the dark room.

Stammering, Demo stood up, setting aside his beer and wobbling after him. It would be hard enough to see with two eyes, but Demo had to take extra care not to bump into any of the equipment in the room, keeping a hand out in front of himself. He lost track of Sniper, and cried out when his outstretched hand collided with the side of the wrestling ring. He pulled his hand away, shaking the pain out of it, when a sound caught his ear—a faint sniff. Frowning, he headed toward the noise, and finally spotted the dim form of Sniper hunched over the pool table. He was quiet.

Demo crept closer, placing a hand on Sniper's back. He was trembling.

"Now, lad," Demo said, his voice soft. "C'mon, now."

Sniper's breathing hitched, and Demo wrapped his arm around him. To his surprise, Sniper did not pull away, but leaned into him as his shoulders shook.

As Demo held him, old memories arose—memories of standing at a funeral for two parents, throat torn by the apology he'd never be able to voice. Then came the memory of another funeral, for another parent—one as equally displeased with him as his living mother.

What were any of them saying on the other side? Did they accept his unspoken apology? Were they voicing the pride for him that they'd never expressed in life?

He cast a glance at Sniper, who was fighting a losing battle with tears against his side, and decided it was better not to know.

As Sniper's trembling began to calm, Demo rubbed his back. "For what it's worth," he said, "I'm proud of ye. And I won't wait 'til we're at no pearly gates to tell ye."

Sniper let out a snort, and Demo imagined a shaky smile crossing his face. "Thanks, mate."

"Anytime, lad."

[sleepanonymous]

In light of recent events (that I fully missed and only caught the resolution of), I figured maybe I should drag this post out of my drafts instead of sitting on it like a coward.

TLDR: It’s important to respect the band, but it’s equally as important to respect your fellow fan’s wishes to not know Sleep Token’s identities.

(These two asks are from the previous drama, not what happened yesterday.)

I’ve had those 2 anon asks sitting in my inbox from that drama last month with a Tumblr user revealing Sleep Token’s names in a rant post because the guys did not unmask during/after the Wembley ritual. I hate to bring this back up but I feel guilty because I pretty much tossed a barrel of toxic waste onto that existing dumpster fire and walked away as everything exploded. I’d gotten back to everyone who DMd me and sent non-anon asks, but couldn’t answer these two. I didn’t want to publicly put that tumblr blog on blast because I did not want it to look like I was trying to instigate a witch hunt.

I had planned on ignoring these two asks since I had no way to DM the anon users, but figured I may as well use this as an opportunity to talk about something else: Sleep Token’s identities and respecting the band member’s wishes to stay anonymous.

Nowadays it’s nearly impossible to simply look up “Sleep Token” and not have the guy’s names and/or faces spoiled. It’s not your fault if this has happened to you, and you aren’t a bad person or disrespecting the band. Even if you looked up the information on purpose, that doesn’t make you disrespectful. It’s human nature to be curious, especially in regards to things that you love.

It’s okay if you know the names and faces of the member’s of Sleep Token. It is not okay to pass this information along in Sleep Token fan spaces, even if you disagree with the anonymity aspect or believe it’s just a gimmick. It is okay to be curious about the members and search for information about them online (such as old projects, public accounts, etc). It is not okay to harass them or their friends/family online (and yes, commenting “Worship” is harassment outside of Sleep Token’s official accounts). It is okay if you don’t find Sleep Token attractive after seeing their faces. It is not okay to hate on them or bodyshame them, especially in Sleep Token fan spaces. It is okay if you recognize the guys out in public, such as outside a venue. It is not okay to draw attention to them, take unsolicited photos of them, or approach them with anything other than respect.

The point I’m trying to make is that you can only be responsible for yourself. I am in a space where I regularly use Sleep Token’s first names, and relentlessly censor myself outside of that space to make sure I don’t accidentally namedrop. If I, an adult with ADHD and a 50 second attention span, can do this, so can you. Know that if you are refraining from openly sharing/spreading information about the band’s identities, you are not only respecting the Sleep Token’s wishes to remain anonymous, but you are also respecting countless other fans that are trying to avoid that same information for their own reasons.

It’s also important to remember there are people on the other side of the screen before sending hate. It’s easy to forget that a living, thinking, feeling, human reading what you’re saying. The best way to deal with people online who give you strong negative emotions is to block them and forget they exist.

If you’ve read this far then I just want to say that you’re amazing and I love you (especially if you’re my mutual or follower). You’re all truly the best community in this fandom. I hope you’re having/had a fantastic day. Forehead kisses and Large Mug Morning Espressos™ for all of you.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Never Whole Again

Sherlock’s been dead for months. Literally. John’s been dead for months too. Not literally. He doesn’t exactly live either. Exists if he must put a word on it. The grief shouldn’t still be as raw as it was when he realised that Sherlock had no pulse, laying on the pavement outside Barts. Doesn’t matter what everyone tells him. That it’ll get better. Less raw. More faded.

“Faded, my arse!” John had shouted at whoever told such a ludicrous lie.

The love of John’s life was dead and buried, alongside with John’s heart and soul. He felt like an empty shell, and he knew he could never be whole again. The love he felt for Sherlock was all-consuming and no one could ever replace him. John still kicked himself several times a day for never telling Sherlock exactly that. To Sherlock, John was his friend, nothing more.

When Philip Anderson’s campaign, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, made it to the papers, John was indifferent. Easy for Anderson to say now, wasn’t it. He never seemed to have believed anything Sherlock had said or done when he was alive. Paying tribute to him now seemed like hypocrisy to John. He believed in Sherlock. Always had. Until it was too late.

***

When the restlessness becomes too much to bear, John writes to Sherlock. For some reason Sherlock’s email account isn’t deleted, and John’s emails are never returned, so he continues to write. What he writes, varies. It can be anecdotes about Mrs. Hudson, customers at Asda, John’s nightmares, crimes he’s read about in the papers or watched on the news, the latest Bond film, or new knowledge he’s learned from QI. He writes poems too. All of which circles around Sherlock.

The solar system wasn’t important you said

I thought you were a pompous arse saying that

You’d be glad to know I finally agree with you

What significance does it have now when you’re not here to mock it?

Who cares if the Sun moves around in space now?

Not me. Not anymore

You called me your conductor of light

I never told you what you were to me

If I were the Sun, you were the Moon

You appeared cool and bright

You shone just as much as the Sun

The moonlight broke when you died

It went out just like the light in your eyes did

And I’ve been wandering in the dark ever since

Until the day I die, I’ll never see such a light again

John’s mentally exhausted after finishing and sending the poem. It’s his last email, because two days later the light returns to John’s life. Sherlock’s broken in many ways, but John’s determined to heal him, to love him, and to never doubt him again.

I guess I needed to write a bit of angst in between all the fluffiness of Fluffbruary. Sorry, not sorry!

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @peanitbear @raina-at @7-percent @ninasnakie @sabsi221b

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 20

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of murder and blood

Summary: Jason is revealed to be alive by Bruce, who throws him a welcome home party so Jason can become a normal person again, but things end badly

With the death of Joker, and the press finding out it was Red Hood who had committed the murder, all of Gotham was essentially at Jason’s feet. You saw people walking around with homemade shirts, pins, backpacks, all with the helmet on them. People were saying he was better than Batman, who never could do the job right. He was a hero to most, but to the criminals of the city he was a terrifying entity, capable of taking out a truly legendary villain. It was making your job easier, so many informants were willing to roll over to you whenever you came knocking just so you wouldn’t send Red Hood after them later. Every time you got far enough away from whoever you were getting information from you would laugh at the idea of Jason running around doing your bidding. He had enough to deal with running his section of Gotham and coming back to the world of the living.

As you walked past an electronics store, snow starting to fall, you saw yet another newscaster hailing the return of Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne’s long-lost son who was kidnapped as a teenager, seemed to escape his captors only to spend years with amnesia before finally realizing who he was and returning home to his father. It was hilarious and you once again mentally thanked Dick for the amnesia storyline. It had taken months of convincing, but Bruce finally wore Jason down by asking him if the only dates he was going to take you on were to the theater room in the mansion and Jason realized once he showed his face again without the mask on someone who figure out who he was. It was really a brilliant marketing tactic and Jason had rolled over to your ‘pretty please’ eyes like he normally did. You just wanted him to be able to meet your friends, they were getting on your nerves asking about how you were able to move into the Wayne manor. Once you mentioned that they thought you were sleeping with Bruce Jason was willing to do anything to end that rumor.

The snow was getting heavier when you arrived at the diner your friends were waiting at. You slid into the booth with Jocelyn and Aura who immediately asked where Jason was. You smiled a little and shrugged.

“I was working, he’s meeting me here after a suit fitting for his welcome home party this weekend,” you said. They gushed about their excitement at having received invitations to the party.

“Are you alright with all this though?” Jocelyn asked suddenly. You frowned, not sure what she meant. “Well, you were so sure that Robin was alive again, that he was still your soulmate. Have you given up on that?” You smiled, having expected this kind of question at some point, just not right away.

“Ya, I don’t need a soulmate when I have Jason, he’s absolutely the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you said, smiling wide. It wasn’t a complete lie, so you only felt a little guilty. The bell over the door chimed and you looked back, smile getting bigger as Jason walked in, looking like an absolute vision. He was so much lighter now, he still had moments of doubt, wasn’t always happy, but the nightmares were gone, and the extra sleep helped him handle his depression and anxiety better and it showed. He smiled at the sight of you getting up and walking over to him. He gripped you close and kissed your head, arm staying around your shoulders as you walked him to the booth and climbed back in. He sat on the outside, eyes darting around, and you knew he was surveying the entrances and exits.

“You must be Jason Todd,” Aura said, staring intently at him. “I’m Aura, this is Jocelyn and I have to know…what are your intentions with our friend here? Are you looking for just a quick hookup or are you really in with her? Your answer may be the difference between life and death so choose wisely.” You rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. Jason was unfazed, looking at you.

“O I’m all in, she knows that,” he said, winking at you. You nearly melted and from the looks your friends had they were melting too. “Did you all order or are we still waiting?”

Dinner went well and as they walked away you looked at Jason. He looked like he was thinking, eyeing the sky a little bit. It was getting dark early now, December was really setting in, and he was probably trying to figure out if he should start patrolling early or not.

“I can call Alfred to come get me,” you said, not wanting to inconvenience him. He was, after all, more famous than Batman now. He looked at you and then at the city one more time before shaking his head.

“Nah, I’ll get you home babe, don’t want you waiting for the geezer in the cold,” he said, arm going around you again. “So, they were nice, and very excitable.” You nodded. “It's just the party, even I’m excited for a fancy Wayne manor party to welcome you back, since you just returned three months ago,” you said. Jason snorted out a laugh and you joined him. It seemed like yesterday, but a year had passed since he had come back, since you ran into him, and everything started to get weird and wonderful. He got to his bike, handing you the helmet and letting you drive.

“It’s not great road conditions, so be careful on the turns,” he said. He had been teaching you for a couple weeks now how to drive the bike in case you ever needed to help him out of a tough spot and didn’t have one of Bruce’s cars available. You nodded and climbed on the bike. Jason looked around while you got comfy and noticed someone walking down the street in the brightest pink suit he had ever seen. He made a ‘huh’ noise and pointed the guy out to you.

“Good for them, that is an interesting look, hope it works for them,” you said, patting the seat behind you for him to get on. Neither of you had noticed the scalpel the man was flipping around in his hand as he walked down the street.

Jason hated Wayne parties, even when he was a kid. You had to dress up in a ridiculous suit, talk to people you hated about things that were stupid, and the food was too pretentious to be good. He hoped Bruce had at least taken his advice to have Alfred make sliders, those things were amazing and may save this whole endeavor. As he still on his suit jacket Jason considered jumping out the window and running for it. Maybe he could hide at one of the safehouses Bruce didn’t know about for the night. Then the door to the bathroom opened and YN came out and suddenly Jason couldn’t imagine why he had wanted to leave. She looked beautiful, dress stunning on her form, hair hanging loose around her shoulders and her face enhanced by the makeup she wore. Those eyes that still haunted his dreams standing out above everything else. He turned and went to her, kissing her deeply.

“Let’s skip the party,” he said, kissing her again. She growled and pushed him back gently.

“I swear if you messed up my lipstick,” she said with a smile, going to check her face out again.

“O please, I want to mess up all of that, but you’d enjoy it I promise,” he said. She blushed and he chuckled, glad he still had that effect on her. She fixed the little damage he had done, looking to him.

“Do you want to wipe your mouth off? You look like you have lipstick on too,” she said, and Jason checked the mirror. He did but he didn’t mind.

“Nah, let everyone know I’m wearing your lipstick,” he said, offering his arm to her. She took it and they headed down to the slowly filling up first floor of the manor. Bruce was by the door greeting guests and threw Jason a look that he knew well. He was late for his responsibilities again. He pecked YN’s lips again before going over to do his job. He saw YN go off to the parlor to see her friends who were there.

Getting through the introduction line was a slog but finally he was released to mingle, which meant he would speak to Dick, Tim, Barbara, or YN. They would at least act like he was a person and not a sideshow attraction. Come see everyone dead boy zombie in the main hall! He took a breath, pushing past a couple speaking with the Cane’s before joining Dick and Barbara by the fireplace.

“How much longer until I can pretend the party is overwhelming my delicate state?” he snarked, quoting a news program from last week that said he was nearly an invalid. Dick chuckled and patted his back.

“Give it another half hour and I will personally make a scene with you. You can faint, do a somersault, I’ll catch you and whirl you upstairs while declaring that you have the vapors and need smelling salts,” he said. Jason nodded.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Where did YN get to?” Dick shrugged.

“I saw her and her friends in the TV room just a little bit ago…” Barbara said, then pointed, waving for YN to come over. She looked upset.

“You guys need to see this,” she whispered, leading the three of them into the TV room where the news was running. On screen was a photo that was blurred, but you could assume was a dead body. Then the camera panned, showing 3 more bodies, a family at their dining table. On the wall behind them in blood it said:

COME FIND ME RED HOOD.

[jo-harrington]

Eddie Universe (A Modern!Steddie Story)

Summary: After Eddie falls off the face of the Earth, Steve goes to do a wellness check, only to find that Eddie has spent the last few days binge watching a kids show.

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington, implied future Eddie/Steve (Steddie)

Warnings/Themes: Beginnings of Crushes/EARLY EARLY Friends to Lovers, Unrequited Feelings, Minor Confessions, References to TV (Steven Universe), Implied bisexual Eddie and Steve (talking about giant women)

Note: This is a belated birthday gift to one of my great fandom loves @br0ck-eddie. Thank you to @deathbecomesthem for doing an early read through and @dr-aculaaa for inspiring me (and essentially having writing credits on this) with our little talk about Steven Universe and how Eddie and Steve would relate to these characters immensely. And everyone talks about Bubbline!Steddie...why not a little SU love?

This is my first time writing Steddie, even if it is in this sweet crush way, but that's kind of my style. And even if you don't want to read it as Steddie I think it still holds up to them as characters. And it's just a cute thing about loving Steven Universe and loving Eddie Munson; who could say no to that?

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

It wasn't like Eddie to go radio silent.

In fact, it wasn't like Eddie to go silent. Period.

That was one of the best--or maybe worst--things about Eddie Munson. He was always making some kind of noise, literally and metaphorically.

Always playing his music too loud, always making some big announcement, always first to make a comment, always coming to his friends' defenses, always calling them out on their shit to.

Always, always, always.

That's why, when he suddenly stopped answering group texts, and he broke a pretty impressive snapchat streak, and he wasn't sending tiktoks, or even--unfathomably--cruising around town with his windows down and volume up, Steve knew something had to be up with him.

Well, ok, everyone was worried.

But he wasn't skipping classes, and he hadn't canceled band practice or Hellfire Club. So Eddie must have been alright...right?

Steve just wasn't convinced.

Which was why he'd made the trek across town to Forest Hills to check on his, and everyone else's, favorite metalhead after work.

He stood awkwardly on the stoop before knocking.

The van was parked outside, which was a good sign, but there was no music or other evidence of disruption, which wasn't.

He debated, for a moment, leaving to grab pizza or snacks or something--show Eddie that he was they were all thinking of him--but then would that look like he was inviting himself to stay?

Would Eddie even want him there?

Would this be a surprise? An intrusion?

He should have just texted first, or called. Yeah they were friends. and they were getting closer--"joint custody" of Dustin would do that--but...Eddie was definitely closer to Jonathan and Robin...hell, even closer to Nancy, than to Steve.

"Fuck it," he took a breath, reached out, and knocked on the door.

There was a muffled "oh shit" and a bump and crash, and then Steve took a step back as the door swung outwards and revealed the freak in question.

"Oh hey Harrington, thought you were the pizza guy," he grinned crookedly and then his expression morphed into something...nervous. "What's up? Is uh...everything ok?"

"Yeah, no," Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels. "I...you haven't really been active in the group chat for a few days, wanted to come over and make sure everything was alright."

Eddie's eyes went wide and he slapped his hands over the pockets of his jeans.

"Shit, have I really?" he asked as he pulled out his phone.

"Yeah."

"Guess I thought I answered and never actually did--Fuck." Eddie's thumb slid over the screen several times as messages flashed by at an unreadable pace.

"Hey, it's ok!" Steve tried to assuage his guilt. "Nothing really going on except memes and fart jokes."

"Well those are my specialty so I'm really missing out on an opportunity for comedy gold." He huffed and shoved his phone into his back pocket and then ran a hand over his mouth. "I'm watching this show that Henderson keeps talking about at lunch. And it's silly but it's really addictive."

"Oh yeah?"

"Put an episode on as background noise and I ended up staying up til 2am the other night. Didn't even finish my homework."

"If you're not careful you're gonna end up failing again Munson," Steve joked.

"Ha, ha, very funny, but I seriously think I might," Eddie snarked.

"Which show?" Steve asked curiously.

"You're gonna laugh. It's this kids cartoon show...Steven Universe."

Steve recognized the name immediately; Dustin had been chatting everyone's ear off about the show for years. It was one of those things that none of the other kids really latched onto the way he did, and he was always a little desperate for someone else to get into it.

Fitting that his new role model was the one who finally did.

"Nice!" Steve nodded his head in approval. "Listen, I mean...he got me playing Pokemon Go with him a few years ago, walking in the woods and everything. And I still play every now and then. So if anyone's gonna judge it's not me."

"What?" Eddie scoffed good-naturedly. "King Steve playing P-Go? Never would've guessed."

Steve was going to throw a teasing insult right back when another car pulled up right behind his; he awkwardly shuffled to the side of the stoop as the delivery driver ran out of the car and up the steps with a massive pizza box.

"Hey, your dinner's here, I should leave you to it--"

"You could stay if you want," Eddie offered; his brows jumped up expectantly, suddenly hidden by his bangs. "Got an extra-large pepperoni that I'm definitely gonna make myself sick trying to eat it all. Catch a few episodes of Steven Universe? That way you can impress good ole' Dusty next time you see him; I'm sure it'd make his day."

And the thing was, the no was right there on his lips.

The excuses.

He didn't want to intrude on Eddie's night, he had other places to be, he really wasn't interested in watching the show.

But that's all they would be: excuses.

He was Eddie's friend and friends watched TV. Did he really want to go back home and maybe have dinner with his mom, if she was even home? He and Eddie never got to hang out alone; it would be fine.

"You know what? Sure."

---

So for the next however-many-hours pizza was devoured and sodas chugged and laughter shared as Steve and Eddie watched a silly little cartoon.

Except, and Steve was quick to find out, it wasn't just a silly little cartoon.

"Ok," Eddie announced around a mouthful of food as he clicked through the landing page of the show to get to some desired episode. "We can't watch everything, so I might as well show you the greatest hits and give you the rundown verbally."

"Greatest hits?" Steve asked incredulously. "Listen, Ed, I can't stay here all night."

"No, the episodes are only 10 minutes long," he explained. "That's why it's so addictive. You're just like...one more, ok one more, and the next thing you know it's been 6 hours."

Wouldn't you know it, 6 hours is exactly what it was in the end...

But those hours were full of Crystal Gems and Together Breakfasts and a journey of love and friendship and self discovery as they watched episode after episode and Eddie narrated all of the events in between in the ways only Eddie knew how.

And Steve was just mesmerized.

By all of it.

Especially Including Eddie.

It was not hard to be mesmerized by him, actually; once again, he was always loud, always Eddie. More often than not, you'd watch him and say something along the lines of "what the fuck?" All while laughing and carving a larger space in your heart for him.

Getting to see him on his own like this though, in a space where he was comfortable enough to let you witness the quiet and contemplative parts of him, it was something else.

It started with Greg.

"Almost like I'm looking into your future here Ed," Steve laughed as Steven's father and his long hair and his guitar and his van popped up on screen.

"Alright, you're laughing but seriously, why wouldn't I wanna be like Greg," Eddie told him. "He might seem like...I dunno, a deadbeat or something. But he's always there for Steven and he tries his best. He reminds me of my uncle Wayne a lot."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Honestly the best guy I know. The best guy a lot of people we know, know."

"Does that make you Steven, then? Because there's only one Steve in this room and it isn't you."

"Laugh it up, wise guy," Eddie shoved him to the side.

And then the music.

"I'm surprised you haven't broken out your guitar or something," Steve noted as Eddie hummed along to the theme song at the start of every episode and sang his own little rendition as he went to grab more soda from the kitchen. And Steve had to give it to him, all of the music was sweet and catchy, but Eddie's whole identity was music and he was acting pretty tame about it.

"I wanted to finish watching the whole series before I started fucking around with my guitar," he told Steve. "Might do some kind of medley or something with the guys. I dunno if they'd be into it and honestly they don't have a choice, if I'm gonna write it. It's gonna be metal as fuck."

"Well, don't forget to invite me to that show," Steve laughed. They both went silent for a second and Steve felt his cheeks get hot. "Uh...and Dustin. And everyone else. I think it would be fun."

"Yeah..." Eddie cleared his throat. "Yeah for sure."

And then just...about Steven.

"I do." Eddie announced suddenly and quietly at the end of Lion 3: Straight to Video, after Sadie and Steven watched Rose's message to Steven in the back of the Big Donut.

"You do what?" Steve questioned, discreetly rubbing his eye to prevent a tear from falling.

"I do see a lot of myself in Steven," Eddie continued, voice void of emotion. That emptiness was what made Steve turn to actually look at him, to see the wetness of Eddie's own eyes increase tenfold in a matter of seconds.

"Steven's mom died, left him alone to figure out all the harsh realities of the world for himself. And yeah he has his family and friends but...I dunno...it's not the same. Shit, I mean...I don't know what my life is like and I'm grown. Steven's just a kid...I just...yeah. Watching this I guess has been a really personal thing."

Steve felt his stomach drop. He knew a lot about Eddie--some truths from Eddie's own mouth, some things through the grapevine, some just rumors from his own days as Chief Douchebag at Hawkins High--but hearing the vulnerability...seeing it...it was different.

And Steve's heart ached a little bit, not to hear it all, but for Eddie to trust him with these feelings? With this confession?

He was about to open his mouth and thank Eddie for sharing that, but Eddie went ahead and started the next episode and the moment was gone.

---

Then there was just the inherent sense of love that just emanated through the entirety of the show that just made everything, dare Steve admit, click.

At first it was silly as they watched the Giant Woman episode.

"Who wouldn't want to see a Giant Woman?" Eddie joked as Steven sang.

"No seriously," Steve laughed along with him. "You know what, I know that I've dated a lot of short girls but I think a Giant Woman could pick me up and throw me and I would thank her."

Eddie punched him in the arm good-naturedly.

"You get it Harrington. You get it."

Every time the gems would fuse, Eddie and Steve would both gasp along with him. "A giant woman!" Complete with stars in their eyes and a joke about a crush they had growing up, and on and on.

And yeah sure, that's not what Steven meant whenever he saw one of the fusions, but Eddie and Steve were both icky young men with crude, lewd senses of humor. It was no more harm than a fart joke or humping an inanimate object.

What could you expect?

But then...Connie.

It was sweet, her and Steven. Their friendship, their determination to help one another, protect one another.

Their crushes on each other.

To Steve, they were like Max and Lucas over the years. They just tugged at your heartstrings, made you go awwww.

But then the episode Alone Together. And dancing on the beach. And Stevonnie.

"Woah," he scooted up to the edge of the couch. "They fused!"

"I know!" Eddie bounced in the seat beside him, beyond excited. "I know! Look at them. Steve, if I'm lying I'm dying, the episodes with Stevonnie are the best fucking episodes."

And that got the conversation going about fusion.

Because Steve thought Stevonnie was the dumbest name.

"Well what do you expect them to be called?" Eddie scoffed. "She's human, and he's not just a gem, he's Steven...they're not like...Con-va-nite or something."

"Stevonnie, that's like...if you called Nancy and Jonathan...Nance-a-than or something," Steve argued.

"Obviously they're Jancy," Eddie stated matter-of-factly. "There's an art to naming things Harrington."

"It sounds like you've already thought about this."

"Maybe I haven't, maybe I have. A magician never reveals his tricks. But fusion is cool."

"Alright, smart guy," Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "And what would Robin and I be? If we fused."

"Ok, ok," Eddie adjusted himself on the couch. "I'm torn between Rove...or Stobin. I'm leaning Stobin. And your weapon would be a whip made of the tape from VHS's or something."

"Seriously?" Steve screeched. "I think Stobin would have a cooler weapon than that."

That's how it went for a few minutes, mashing up all of their friends and creating fake fusion names for them and their weapons of choice.

And every moment Steve sort of dreaded the inevitable.

Dreaded wasn't the right word exactly.

Anticipated? Looked forward to?

Because fine. Yeah. Maybe he had a little bit of a crush on Eddie.

There. He said it.

It was just...alright weird was not the right thing to say. But yeah, weird. They had been...had they been enemies? He'd never thought of Eddie as anything more than a nuisance at one point. Yeah he had that hot metal guy thing going all through school, but how could there be any sort of romantic feelings there when there was so much adversity before?

How could Steve say that Eddie, the guy who pissed his name on the snow on the windshield of Steve's car once, was actually attractive? And cool. And funny. And in what world would Eddie say that Steve, the guy who once gave him an atomic wedgie on his birthday, was someone he wanted to go out with?

But from whatever they had been before, they'd slowly bridged the gap. Became better people, more tolerant people. Acquaintances, then friends, and now...yeah, Steve maybe had a crush on Eddie. And it was hard to tell but...

"How about us?" Steve finally asked. "Edeve. Edven. Steedie."

"Steddie," Eddie said confidently, looking Steve dead in the eye. No hesitation...maybe a bit of a blush dusting his cheeks but in the glow of the tv it was hard to tell. "We'd obviously be Steddie."

...maybe the feeling was mutual.

---

Eddie and Steve watched in relative silence for the rest of the evening.

A companionable silence, a comfortable one.

No more talk of fusions or giant women or Steddie.

Just Steve's questions about certain things he hadn't seen yet, in episodes they'd skipped, and Eddie's explanations.

Eventually, they caught up to where Eddie had left off when Steve arrived, and continued to binge without any skipping.

Time passed.

And a pointed *ding* from his phone finally pulled Steve's eyes away from being glued to the TV.

A text.

Rob: You forgot to pick me up, where the fuck are you?

"Shit," he cursed and saw the time. Well-passed closing time at the store.

Steve typed frantically.

You still need a ride?

The response was immediate.

Rob: If it isn't too much to ask for a lowly peasant like me, your highness-ness.

He typed a quick On my way! and looked over at Eddie, about to announce his fuck-up and apologize for leaving so abruptly.

But his eyes softened when he saw Eddie's head was tilted back, mouth open cutely and gurgling in a slight snore; his heart skipped a beat and butterflies erupted in his stomach.

Ok, it was a crush for sure.

He debated waking Eddie up and then decided against it. He simply hit pause to stop the show from getting too far and then made his getaway.

He crept across the living room, shoes in hand so he wouldn't wake Eddie on his way out, and made a mental note to text Eddie first thing in the morning.

It wasn't until he was pulling the door shut behind him that he heard Eddie's sleepy, muffled voice call out.

"Oh Steven!" Steve let the door creak open again as he ducked his head in to bid his farewells. Only for Eddie, with one eye peeped open and a cheesy grin spreading across his mouth, to beat him to it. "There's one more thing I forgot to mention."

Steve's words got caught in his throat and he felt himself blush as he anticipated the next words to come out of Eddie's mouth. Words that he'd just heard Garnet say just a few episodes ago.

"I love you, bye."

[acourtofthought]

Because I follow the "Elain Archeron" tag, Tumblr will occasionally make recommendations on my feed and some of those happen to end up being posts written by E/riels.

One of these suggestions mentioned that Elain and Az are well suited to one another due to their quiet and reserved natures and I had to shake my head because, what?!

The Elain in the Night Court who talks softly, has hands that shake around Az, is quiet and reserved is the Elain still experiencing the effects of trauma which we know she still has because she herself confirmed it in SF.

The Elain from before:

She had come alive here, and her joy was infectious. There wasn’t a servant or gardener who didn’t smile at her, and even the brusque head cook found excuses to bring her plates of cookies and tarts at various points in the day

Elain had taken charge of planning and finding me a last-minute dress, and … it would only be for an evening.

But I tried to smile, if only for Elain, who flitted about the room, personally greeting each guest and dancing with all their important sons.

Two in the morning, and yet the party was showing no signs of slowing. / Elain was laughing among a circle of beautiful friends, flushed and brilliant. Nesta had silently left at midnight, and I didn’t bother to say good-bye as I finally slipped upstairs.

Elain, to my surprise, had a horse, a satchel of food, and supplies ready when I hurried down the stairs. My father was nowhere in sight. But Elain threw her arms around me, and, holding tightly, said, “I remember—I remember all of it now.”

“We keep it secret—we send the servants away. With the spring approaching, they’ll be glad to go home. And if Feyre needs to be in and out for meetings, she’ll send word ahead, and we’ll clear them out. Make up excuses to send them on holidays.

Order them to leave now.” “I’ll do it,” Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn’t wait for either of us before she strode out, graceful as a doe.

“My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.”

Does that seem like a reserved and quiet female or does that seem like someone who, while kind, takes charge and is the life of the party? Someone who comes alive when in the right place?

Does the Elain of the Night Court seem to be the center of everything that's going on or does she seem to fade in the presence of the others?

And if that's not convincing enough:

“Elain is overwhelmed by crowds.” “SHE DIDN'T USE TO BE THAT WAY". Nesta swirled her glass of amber liquid. “She loved balls and parties.” The words hung unspoken. But you and your court dragged us into this world. Took that joy away from her.

Feyre then tells Nesta she's "readjusting" and sure, Elain isn't a total shell, she's doing her best to make a life for herself but she's definitely not the vibrant person she once was.

We are told point blank that the Elain in the Night Court is different and it's clearly not a good thing.

Show me a scene where Az ever happily wandered around from person to person making conversation in a social setting outside of the IC. Show me a scene where he's happily chatting up even a single person outside the IC.

Show me a scene where people are eager to do things for Az because he's such a pleasure to be around.

Feyre wonders if Az gets some of his information from "stone cold manners" but there's never any proof of it happening and even if it had, having manners in order to spy on someone isn't the same as actually enjoying the interaction.

The fact is that Az and Elain do not have similar personalities and any connections people are trying to make is based off Elain as she is after very recent and extreme traumas.

It's a problem in this fandom that I often notice with certain groups and something they seem to do with both Gwyn and Elain.

They think Gwyn can't be interested in Az because she started SF in a low place. They look at Elain as she is in the NC and have based their entire opinion of who she is off that.

They fail to realize that ACOWAR, ACOFAS and SF are poor representations of who these two females actually are (as who they are in those books are who they are because of trauma). They fail to consider who they'll be once they've fully overcome their traumas.

Gwyn isn't going to shy away from males forever.

We've already seen growth from her in SF and she's only going to continue healing. Thinking that it's going to take too long for her to overcome what happened to her and therefore can not go on to have a happy relationship before the series ends is a disturbing mentality.

And thinking that we're not going to eventually see the return of the Elain who took charge and convinced others what to do with smiles alone, who thrived when surrounded by friends and non friends (just people in general), who loved balls and parties is a bit odd because that's the Elain who is canonically the happiest we've ever seen her to be.

And if there is the acknowledgement that we will see the return of that Elain but someone still believes she'd be well matched with Az who Cassian tells us "likes his space", it's possibly the strangest thing of all.

Sure Elain and Az are physically attracted to one another, that can not be disputed.

However what also cannot be disputed is that the Lucien who easily makes friends wherever he goes and enjoys parties, who prefers to avoid violence is an exact match for the happy version of Elain who easily makes friends, enjoys parties, and is bothered by cruelty.

Someone can prefer the opposites attract trope but it's completely false to claim that Elain and Az are similar in personality.

But regardless of what tropes we prefer, in the end what someone wants to see won't matter because SJM doesn't seem to prefer opposites attract and she's the one calling the shots.