#which is not a Lot i haven't read many books lately

[erwinsvow]

𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬

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

word count: 7.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aaron stops for a moment. 

“You should know better than to profile me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not coffee, remember-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I’m sorry, I-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hotch?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“He-he hasn’t woken up yet.” 

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

It seems like those memories were a million years ago. 

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

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

“How long have I been out?” 

“Thirty minutes. Give or take.”

“Is there water?”

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

“Why don’t you? Go home?”

“I didn’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

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

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

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

“I just think-”

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

“No.” 

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

“Don’t think like-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what this is about.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

and voila <3

[loveswrites]

Omg I loved ur poly volturi!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I'm pleading for more!

Uno~ Poly Volturi x reader

Time it took me: I can't even tell you that hell a month? 26 days?

Word count: 1454

To lovely anon: I so happy you loved it! Sorry I took so long I'm trying to get back into my self! Your guys asks always make my day! Just cause I haven't answered doesn't mean That I haven't seen it! I love just about everyone that comes in! <3

Enjoy!

Poly Volturi x Reader

"That's just stupid." Alec said huffing looking at the table in distaste.

"You have to draw four. That's the rules." You Said shrugging.

You, Alec, Jane, Felix and Demetri were currently playing Uno. It took a while convincing everyone to play. Sure you live in a huge castle with the love of your lives but you are still human. You get bored. While Felix was down to play immediately the others were disinterested in playing with you. You got responses like "That's foolish, I have much better things to do, my love." From Caius.

A simple "No." From Jane.

"I'm sorry but I'm busy right now, beautiful." From Demetri.

"It sounds like a waste of time." From Alec.

You even asked Aro and Marcus. Marcus just straight up said he was too old for that shit in so many words. And Aro said he was too hungry to play games but maybe later. 

All the rejection from everyone put you in a sad mood. It's not like you could have friends in the Castle that wouldn't eat you the moment you get a paper cut. The receptionist is a bitch. And there aren't any more humans you have access to. So the fact that everyone said no you were distant with everyone. They all noticed.

You stopped going to trails with Caius. You stopped attempting to give Jane love. You stopped asking Alec to use his powers so you'd be entertained by the dark fog. You stopped asking Felix for piggyback rides. You stopped attempting to play hide and seek with Demetri. 

It had been days since you spoke more than 2 words at a time to any of them. You knew it was affecting them because of the tension that rested upon the castle in a thick fog. They were quick to temper. Quicker than normal that is. And that's saying a lot. 

Marcus had asked you why you hadn't been to any of the trials lately. As it happened to be one of your favorite parts of the day. "I just haven't been in the mood." You told him. He's been on this godforsaken earth way too long to be able to know when to call bullshit. But nonetheless the less he let it go. 

After that you noticed that your love's would attempt to talk to you more. Not just brushing it off as human attitude as Caius would call it. It was small talk but it was an effort.

"Yes I'm fine Demetrius stop asking me." You huffed slightly irritated.

"Did you eat today?" He questioned a little squint in his eyes.

"Yes I eat everyday." You rolled your eyes, gathering the book you were reading from the cold castle floor you were sitting on.

There was the random corner in the Castle that you would just sit in and watch as people- vampires walked through the halls. It had a lot of traffic coming through it which was what you loved. Cauis had offered to have something built for you so you wouldn't have to sit on the floor all the time. But you would always shake your head and tell him "No, just keep it clean for me please." And so he did.

"I fed today. The humans blood was a bit bitter but nonetheless tasty." Demetrius said following you in your attempts to run away from the conversation. 

"You sound like a child."

"And yet here you are acting like one." He snapped.

"I'm sorry?" You said, stopping in your tracks turning to face him.

"You've had this horrible attitude for almost a week for the stupidest thing!" He stated staring at you with his sharp eyes.

"I have not!" You said in attempts to defend yourself.

"Yes you have, don't bother denying it, the whole castle can smell it!" He yelled.

"The lies you tell!" You practically screamed upset you were getting called out.

"Oh really?" Demetrius questioned before you could even blink he had grabbed you by your waist and next you knew you were in a room full of all your mates.

Once you finally felt your two feet touch the ground you couldn't help but get angry. 

"What the fuck is this an intervention?!" You screamed. 

“If that’s what you want to call it, then so be it.” Jane said in a straightforward tone.

“Oh my god what do you guys want?! I just want to be left alone but you all keep bothering me!” You yelled.

“Us bothering you? You were practically begging for attention a couple of days ago now you want to be left alone? Foolish!” Caius yelled, taking you back a bit.

He would yell but he would refrain from yelling at you the best he could. So him yelling at you right now kinda shocked you.

“You wanted to play that card game the other day right? That was when you started acting like such a brat, so we're going to fix that and play it.” Alec stated holding his head high.

“No thanks, I'm good on that.” You said going to turn around to walk away.

“Sit down!” Your mates yelled collectively making you stop in your tracks.

“Sit down please, I’ll shuffle the cards to start.” Felix said in a softer tone.

That was about an hour ago. To not even wanna be sitting here right now it was quite entertaining watching your mates fight with each other about the fact that another was kicking the others ass. 

“I will do no such thing. I've drawn four four times!” Alec yelled, upset he was losing.

“It’s the rules of the game you have to Alec.” Jane said, rolling her eyes at her brother's temper. She was just happy she was winning. For now..

You were all sitting at a grand dining room table. Well Alec, Jane, Felix, Caius and Demtruis were. You were actually sitting on the table. Caius put you up there in attempts to make it harder for you to run away if you tried. 

You did.

You almost hit your head on the way down. 

“I don’t see the appeal of such a game, the cards don’t make sense.” Cauis said busy reading the rules that were on the back of the box.

“Don’t look at my hand! That’s an immature thing to do!” Dem yelled at Felix who kept leaning over to see what cards Dem had in his hand.

You had won the first round so you were busy spectating.

“Immature!? It’s not like we're taking a test!” Felix yelled back, plopping down in his seat.

“You're trying to cheat!” Dem yelled back furrowing his eyebrows.

“Cheat?! I am no cheater! Tell him Amore mio!” Felix said, turning to face you.

“You were cheating, I saw you.” You said blandly.

“Your human eyes don’t under the actions of mine-”

“Her human eyes are perfectly fine!” Dem yelled coming to your defense.

Tuning yourself out of the conversation-well the constant bickering. You found yourself just watching your mates. All were yelling or frowning about something but you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. Neither of them could stand human games. They hated it with the most of them. Minus video games Alec, Felix and Dem said that those don’t count. Though you always tell them they do, they insist that they don’t. A fight you could never win. 

All of your mates came together to do one simple thing that you’ve wanted to do for months. Once they saw how much the disconnection to just one human thing hurt you, They came together to try to make you feel wanted and seen. Though they can’t see the appeal at all there trying for you. And that’s all you could ever ask for. 

“That’s not four Alec!” You yelled when you saw him try to cheat his way into just grabbing two cards.

“Oh come on! I’m never going to win!” Alec yelled back.

“Not my problem.”

“Maybe winning is just not in your line of blood.” Cauis said with a slight smirk. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Jane and Alec said at the same time turning their sharp red eyes at Caius.

“I mean-”

“Nope! Nope! Draw two more cards Alec I’ll help you win!” You rushed out attempting to try to keep the peace. Well as much peace as it was going to get in the room.

“That’s not fair!”

“I need help as well, I deserve it!”

“So were picking favorites now?!”

“Felix, stop looking at my cards!”

“You can’t pick sides!”

You can’t even lie to yourself you had missed them so much. And the smile on your face told no lies.

[rwrbficrecs]

Thanks for all the love on the recent Readers' Choice list ✨ The May faves are a little late but hope you all enjoy these recs 💕

you turned a moment (into forever) by viciouslyqueer (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Think of the fluffiest bedsharing fic you've ever read and combine it with a college roommates AU, and you have this fic! I can't stress enough just how soft this fic is, this is the perfect fic for if you need a quick pick-me-up!

running through my mind all day by allthelovesaved (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry rarely, if ever, jogs. It's not something that interests him. That is until he stumbles upon Alex's TikTok profile (thanks, Pez!!). Alex, a passionate runner, shares his knowledge in a captivating way. Coincidentally, he's also the brother of Henry's colleague June, who convinces him to join their "group running thing"... This sweet, sweet story is fluffy and funny, very soft and a little silly (says the author), and it just made me very, very happy.

Wit and Wisdom by @pridepages (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: A window into the future of "Little Matters" my absolute favorite story. Im so in love with this family and happy to see the woman Cat has become and how much of Alex she carries with her. I cried and laughed and EJ left me wanting more of them as usual. If you haven't read Little Matters yet, what are you doing with your life?? Haha

hymns down your sides by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@na-dineee: One of my favourite authors delivers yet again! Henry, a refined boyband veteran in his mid-30s, meets wild, lately kind of self-destructive boyband star Alex. Henry can't probably save him, but maybe he can give him a push in the right direction? This story put me through the emotional wringer. So many feelings, so much hurt, and the chemistry - absolutely gripping!

the poem you make of me by @omgcmere (book-verse)

@suseagull04: The riches found within this fic know no bounds! It's a writer Henry AU that maintains a lot of the same themes as the book (which it coveys just as well), but it adds another layer of heart with the fact that in this verse, Henry is not just a writer, but a poet.

Savasana by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Lawyer Alex has hit a low point in his career. The situation is absolutely not pretty, and understandably, Alex is skeptical about whether yoga can fix it, as June suggests. Can yoga instructor Henry straighten things out for Alex? - Alex pulls one Alex after another - it gave me whiplash in the best possible way! The story is very touching and sweet, also absolutely hilarious at the same time !! So fun to read !!

Henry Fox, All-American Hero by @tintagel-or-cockleshells (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is an AU of a book I loved in middle school, so not only did it give me so much nostalgia, but it has all the quirkiness of RWRB too! Alex in this is so mischievous and sweet, and I love it!

A Wretched Beginning by @royalasstronaut (book-verse)

@dot524: This was a fun romp — forbidden relationship, college/academic AU, tension and angst, and loads of longing. Henry is Alex’s TA and um… things happen. Oh, and they may also be connected in other mysterious ways.

Pleasant Melody by @clottedcreamfudge (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Love at first sight that feels magical in otherworldly way is one of my favourite kinds of love stories. And this fic is a spectacular example! Henry is a pirate, Alex is a very special siren, they shouldn't make sense but they do. The longing is excellent and I would gladly read ten more fics based on the same concept.

Meant to Be Yours by @affectionatelyrs & @happiness-of-the-pursuit (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Definitely one of the most unhinged fics I've read in this fandom. (Warning: proceed with caution!) Alex loves Henry, Henry doesn't know Alex exists. Alex's dream is of course to meet Henry and his attempts to do so are... worrying. Second-hand embarrassment hits hard, highly recommend!

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

[lynnie-ee]

Day 9; What if.

╰┈➤"Silver watches you from afar at the library, never adventurous enough to talk to you. Will he gather the courage to do so, or will it be too late by then?"

╰►Gender neutral reader, one-shot, 1.4k words. Angst in the final part.

╰► Character: Silver.

╰►Note: The prompts are based on words I found interesting and then I put them on a roulette to decide when I would write about them, lol. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes <3. Not proof read, I haven't written in a long time, so I apologise if anything is out of character.

╰►Masterlist / Inktober Masterlist.

⤿

⤿

You look pretty when you're concentrated.

That’s what Silver believes.

That’s what he has thought for months now, observing you from afar but never actually speaking to you. He had no reason for it, he reasoned. You weren’t classmates, you weren’t in the same year, you weren’t part of the same club as him, and you didn’t go to Diasomnia often. But still, he found comfort in observing you after class, two tables away from you in the library, too focused to even notice his gaze.

Lilia had suggested to him the library as a better place to study, saying that maybe he wouldn’t fall asleep so quickly there, with so many people around, but he wouldn’t be too distracted by sudden noises, as he would be in Diasomnia, and Silver followed his advice.

The first day he failed, horribly. He chose a corner that was way too lonely, making him fall asleep through the whole evening before the librarian went to him to ask him to leave due to the late hours.

The second day was better, as he chose a more transited table, with enough people passing around to keep him alert. But it was way too crowded, and when he got up to look for another book, someone else had already taken his seat.

On the third day, he found a nice spot, with few people and a lot of silence. He took a seat at the table next to the window, and that’s when he saw you. He knew who you were, as everyone in the school. A magicless student from another world wasn’t often seen around, after all, but you never had the opportunity to talk before.

And he found encouragement in how dedicated you seemed to read the giant books that awaited next to you, all of them providing you with information about a world you knew nothing about yet. At first, he gazed at you when he felt himself about to fall asleep, but a few weeks later, he watched you just for the sake of it.

His father had spoken to him about the concept of love at first sight, quite a lot of times, but he never thought much of it. He was a knight, he had a duty and no space for anything else for anything but his family, even less for affections originated from things as superficial as someone’s appearance.

But then he saw you, and it was more than that.

And you started to greet him after weeks of sitting on the same spots of the library, as you thought it’d be polite to do so, getting surprised at the soft reddish tone that appeared on Silver’s cheeks when you spoke to him. You never believed he’d be such a shy person.

From then on, you still sat in the same seats, but would engage in conversation, from time to time, even if it wasn’t often, as you were occupied most of the time with the pile of books that always followed you, never becoming smaller. Silver, on the other hand, was also busy with his homework, which he could finish faster if he hadn’t started to daydream as he gazed at you.

“Hi, Silver, had you been doing well?”

“Yes, I have, thank you for asking.” He answered with his usual blunt voice. “I’ve seen you struggle with History of Magic, perhaps you’d need help with it.” He’d add nonchalantly.

“I’d appreciate it, thanks for the offer.” You’d answer with a soft smile.

Yet he remained silent, not being able to offer his help, as you quickly went to your seat after the brief greeting. You had a test for tomorrow and no time to lose. And he had a report to finish for Crewel’s class, one that would be finished already if it wasn’t for his gazing habits.

“Lilia told me you were good at physical training, is that right?” You asked one day, as you carried your books as usual.

“He's right. As a knight, it’s important to have great strength.”

“Would you mind helping with a certain exercise Vargas taught us? It’s far more complex than I thought and I’d like to know before the next class.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind helping if I can.”

“Thank you, Silver.”

From then on, and after he had helped you with the exercise, you’d speak more often. About school, about your friends, about his training. About the restaurant you’ve been wanting to go to for the past month. About how he was free the next Saturday. About you telling him that Grim would stay with Ace and Deuce for the weekend. About him saying he had errands to run that day. About you asking him if he’d like to stop by the restaurant to join you for lunch.

Then you started to hang out at Diasomnia more frequently, saying it was nice and quiet as long as Sebek wasn’t around. It was natural, Silver thought, as you were Malleus’ friend, Sebek’s classmate, and an avid fan of the Pop Music Club, of which Lilia was part. You had a lot of reasons to be there, he believed, and he didn’t think much of it when you stayed even if it was only him, without Malleus, Sebek or Lilia.

But one day you’d stayed late, none of you noticing the darkness outside, too concentrated for it. Silver was quite proud of himself, getting focused enough to read for long hours, only noticing how much time had passed as he felt a light weight on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep. 'How funny', he thought, he was usually the one doing that.

So, he put all your books in your backpack and picked you up to carry you towards Ramshackle.

When he went back to his dorm, he realized. Was there something different in the way he held you, as if he was carrying a rare treasure? Or in the fondness he felt when you thanked him half asleep for bringing you home? Or in Lilia’s teasing when he arrived at Diasomnia, as he claimed to have raised a Prince Charming who treated his beloved with kindness?

But he knew he was no Prince. He was a knight, with a duty. To Lord Malleus. To his father. To his family.

Yet, when you confessed that you saw differently, one day, in the middle of the library, he couldn’t bring himself to reject you, too enamoured by the affection of your gaze and the tenderness of your voice.

'A knight can also be capable of love', Lilia had told him when he confided his worries.

You were perfect for him, after all. He could imagine you accompanying him through his training. Staying for the night at Diasomnia. Getting close to all the people he adored deeply. Fighting with Sebek at late hours when he wouldn’t allow you to have a night snack. Backing away when Lilia offered to make it for you. Laughing with Malleus as Sebek and him would try to convince the vicehousewarden to stay away from the kitchen. Coming back with him to his room to sleep in each other’s arms.

Coming back to his homeland with you for the holidays. Sending you letters when he was away in his fourth year. You moving to Briar Valley after graduation. Malleus becoming king and making him one of his main knights. Coming back home at night to your smile, after long days.

But then he blinked, once, twice, thrice. He had been falling asleep more often, lately. His eyelids were too heavy for him to avoid it, he couldn’t blame himself for it. He turned away his gaze from the window, looking at the seat that was two tables away.

The seat was empty.

It had become unbearable, the loneliness of that place. You wouldn’t come back with him to Diasomnia, or to Briar Valley, or to a home that was both yours and his.

You wouldn’t come back at all.

He was a knight, he couldn’t leave himself failing once again, as he had already failed the duty he had to you.

Only leaving him dreaming of what could have been if you hadn’t put yourself in front of him when Malleus attacked him during his overblot. If he had protected you from the pain and the fear that he observed in your eyes as you faded away in his arms.

Now you only existed in his dreams, and it wasn’t enough for him.

⤿

⤿

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: july 2024

full disclosure: I started out July in a bit of a mental lurch, really feeling stuck in a rut. there are a lot of reasons for that, absolutely none of which need to be shared with the general populace of tumblr dot com, but suffice to say that I was feeling listless and reading was not a high priority. I was pretty content to accept that this was going to be another month where I didn't finish a lot of books. I was too busy for most of June, and now too unfocused and bummed out in July.

and then that ended up not being the case. I think I can chalk that up to three things:

very early in the month I realized that none of the reading I had been planning on getting to was grabbing my interest at all, so I did something drastically different: picked up a YA memoir that I bought at pride on the recommendation of a bookseller. not my usual kind of reading at all, but YA is very readable and memoirs grab me fast because I'm nosy, so I figured it might be great for getting out of a rut. and boy, was I right!

Akwaeke Emezi also has a new novel out, and if you don't know then please note now that I'm a person second and an Akwaeke Emezi fan first. their newest novel was a sinister joyride, non-stop twists and turns that I couldn't put down until I saw the characters through to their bitter ends.

and, of course, over in the Dungeon Meshi manga I got to Mithrun. I've only had Mithrun for a couple of chapters, but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone in this dungeon and then myself. even if I hadn't been able to read anything else, that would have kept me running back to the library for more Dungeon Meshi.

all of which added up to a fairly voracious appetite for books being reignited in my brain, and my second most book-heavy month of the year so far (still haven't beat May, but there's time). sick!

so - what have I been reading?

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 7-10 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Taylor Engel, 2019-2022) - mannnnn I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said elsewhere, but Dungeon Meshi is so. fucking good. the way that Kui starts to raise the stakes of the story and grow the world beyond the core band of adventurers is so conscientious and well-done, timed perfectly so it never feels like having an undercooked heap of fantasy exposition thrown at you all at once. instead everything proceeds at a perfect simmer, leaving me feeling like the frog in that pot of boiling water who didn't notice how dire things had gotten until it was very suddenly too late and I was screaming bloody murder at a book. things have gotten so dire that I'm yearning for the days when fighting a red dragon was our biggest problem - and yet, through it all, every character remains rendered with humanity and compassion, no matter how scary, dangerous, or outright alien they first appear. I'm not naming any spoilers, but I need [REDACTED] to fix shit ASAP in Vol. 11 and [SUPER REDACTED] is on my shitlist fucking forever. also Mithrun sweetie you're perfect, do as many crimes as you want.

Heart and Hand (Rebel Carter, 2019) - my romance novel of the month, as picked by my lovely patreonites! this self-published historical romance promised some messy f/m/m, following a biracial (half Black, half white) young lady, Julie Baptiste, as she responds to a marriage ad that takes her out west to the fictional town of Gold Sky, Montana. Julie's sort of a standard historical heroine - she doesn't care for the silliness of high society and vastly prefers the company of books, looking forward to becoming Gold Sky's schoolteacher - but her marriage has a twist: rather than marrying one man, she's agreed to marry two, a pair of friends who have been inseparable since they served together in the Civil War. this book is charming, for sure, but I can't help be more intrigued by what isn't there than what is, namely: are these men having sex with each other or not? Rebel? hey, Rebel? why is there no DP in this two husbands mail order bride book? that was, like, he bare minimum that I expected. for the love of god, why did those men never put both of their dicks inside Julie at the same time? why did we spend so much time on emotional conflict that could be easily resolved if anyone just talked to each other when Julie's two beautiful husbands could have been having sex in front of her? HELLO?

also, listen, this is such a nitpick, but I am FROM Montana and it feels personal: I know that the general poverty of frontier life isn't sexy, but god these people are WAY too well off. at one point Julie enjoys some fucking BANANAS, something that I goddamn assure you were not easy to come by in late 19th century Montana. a banana. as fucking if.

All Boys Aren't Blue (George M. Johnson, 2020) - as is proudly advertised on the back cover of my copy, in recent years All Boys Aren't Blue has been the second most-challenged book in America behind Maia Kobabe's Gender Queer. reading through All Boys Aren't Blue it was initially hard to see what exactly was so objectionable, until I realized that a queer Black person living their life with compassion and joy is the scariest thing some of these motherfuckers can possibly imagine. Johnson writes about their life growing up in the nexus of racism, homophobia, and masculinity with wisdom and endless compassion, directly addressing young people who may find themselves in similar positions to offer them assurance that they, too, can be okay. more than anything, All Boys Aren't Blue is a plea for young people to live their lives without fear and shame. it's a beautiful blessing of a book that I hope brings comfort to every innumerable kids who need it.

Little Rot (Akwaeke Emezi, 2024) - how do I even begin to describe Little Rot? definitely not for those who feel squeamish about sex crimes, I guess that's an important place to start. this novel starts with the breakup of a long-term Nigerian couple, Kalu and Aima, and follows both of them into a weekend that starts with drugs and sex parties and spirals increasingly out of control from there, drawing more and more characters into a complicated snarl of money and power. Little Rot has the seedy, lurid draw of an episode of SVU if SVU ever grew up and realized that cops don't do shit, reveling in the nastiest that Emezi's imagined city of New Lagos has to offer. cannot say this book is for everyone - few of Emezi's novels are - but god, it's a thrilling study in corruption.

The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader (editor Joan Nestle, 1992) - this is a massive and fascinating historical document, assembled by Nestle as part of her work with the Lesbian Herstory Archives. within this collection are letters, interviews, academic essays, poems, and transcribed oral histories from all manner of self-identified butch and femme lesbians. while some of the contributors are recognizable names in the history of American queer activism (including Pat Califa, who's a bisexual trans man now lmao), others are women who were just trying to live their lives with as much authenticity, comfort, and dignity as was possible in their time. (although, notably, the vast majority of these women are white, and all but a very few are Americans. racial and cultural diversity is not one of the collection's strong suits.)

the personal narratives span all over the twentieth century, and I was really delighted to see the very frank discussions of what would be written off as "bad representation" by a lot of queer resources today: butches overdosing on toxic masculinity and getting in messy bar brawls, femmes committing outlandish acts of adultery, lesbian sexual awakenings taking place between fairly young children, and one extremely memorable instance of a butch getting unexpectedly pregnant and decided to do a little sex work on the side since she couldn't get more pregnant than she already was. I was particularly fascinated by the many, many accounts of "second wave" self-identified lesbian feminists who tried to do away with butch/femme identities and "politically incorrect" expression of lesbian sexuality altogether (that's everything but mutual cunnilingus, btw) in pretty eerie echoes of contemporary radfem arguments. at close to 500 pages it's definitely better suited to skimming and stopping to read whatever catches your attention rather than trying to read cover to cover, but I think this is a really invaluable piece of history.

American Mermaid (Julia Langbien, 2023) - this was a novel, for sure. American Mermaid is a novel about a broke, anxious high school teacher named Penelope whose novel, also called American Mermaid, is a runaway success that gets optioned for film. Penelope quits her teaching job and moves across the country to Hollywood to work on the script with two dude bros who don't really Get what American Mermaid is about, and set to work turning Penelope's weird, unsexy female empowerment novel into an MCU-style action romp with a hot young lead. the novel's strongest when it's deep in the spirals of Penelope's frantic mind, probing the conflict between her fairly desperate need for cash (she wants to be financially independent of her conservative father, she has good reason to suspect breast cancer is in her future, she wants to start a family someday) and the artistic affront she feels at watching her story be disrespected and dismantled. where it's weaker is in the extensive chapters of the story-within-a-story; while useful for context, I straight up didn't need to read that much of Penelope's novel. and the plot overall kind of felt like it fell off the rails near the end once Langbien finishes making her point about how Hollywood sucks. it's not bad, but it's also just... fine. it's fine!

How to Taste: A Guide Discovering Flavor and Savoring Life (Mandy Naglich, 2023) - how do I put this so nicely? this book is for people who are kind of dork ass losers about food, a group that I do very much count myself as a part of. I first became acquainted with Naglich's work when she appeared on a podcast called the Sporkful, which claims that it is "not for foodies, it's for eaters." I'm a fairly devout listener, and after listening to Naglich describe her efforts to become a master cicerone (one of the world's most elite beer tasters, a distinction that is taken Very Fucking Seriously) I thought sure, whatever, that's a book I can get behind. Naglich is maybe a big more entertaining as a podcast guest than a nonfiction author. in places the book can be dry or roughly constructed in a way that suggests another pass by an editor or maybe a co-writer would have helped. and straight up, there are just weird fucking typos in this book that are like. crazy to me, I cannot believe they got through. the cheap-ass cover art also suggests this was not exactly a high budget production.

but having been very mean about it, there are a lot of extremely interesting tidbits about the world of professional tasting here! it sounds awful and you couldn't pay me to do it, but here's the cool thing: Naglich is extremely aware that what she does is insane and she knows that the average reader doesn't want to learn how to identify where a coffee bean was grown just by sniffing the bean from across a room. what she offers instead are really approachable ways to be more conscientious about how you interact with and appreciate food! and she also shares some really cool info about tasting snobbery that IS bullshit, to help you sort out the stuff that actually matters and emphasize that fun and personal taste ultimately trump any "rules." it's a very dorky book but I, personally, did have a good time.

Sex Criminals Vol 3: Three the Hard Way (Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarsky, 2016) - every time I read another volume of Sex Criminals I find myself thinking "man, hang on, do I ever actually like Sex Criminals? am I enjoying this?" but then I end up placing a hold on the next one. I don't know, it's charming! it's like so very VERY 2010s in its dialogue, by which I mean it's like. you know. it's giving Joss Whedon before we all found out how bad he sucked and collectively booed him. but man, I love a story that's down to get weird, and Sex Criminals is sooooo about being weird. and yet also very normal where sex is concerned! considering this is a series all about people having freaky world-altering powers that activate when they cum, sex is treated as an incredibly ordinary thing, warts and all. I like that! I like seeing that! idk, I don't need every comic to be perfect, as evidenced by the fact that I'm actively enjoying Azrael: Angel of the Bat. sometimes the vibes are just good.

[foone]

weird thought: I think if I was a teenager now (or anytime in the last decade or so) I think I would have written (and read!) a lot more fanfic than I did in reality, where I was a teenager in the 90s.

See, I've never been hugely into fanfic. Never had anything against it exactly, but it just wasn't something I was into. But I think that has to do with an interesting combination of how my brain works and what time I was first really getting into being a fan.

I've got a "librarian" brain (I'm literally typing this from within a library, WHERE I WORK). It wants to know things like "what are all the works in this series/by this creator?" and "are they all accessible?" and "what info is available about how it was made?"

I'm the kind of person who will watch a show then go look it up on wikipedia to see how many seasons it has, who made it, if they're still making it, check tvtropes for any more info, etc. Or I hear a song I like by a band I've never heard of, so I go listen to their entire discography while researching them. I just focus on things I'm into that way, you know? I don't half-ass my interest. (this is probably related to my autism, of course)

So what does this have to do with fanfic? like, do I go read some fanfics as part of this process? No, and I think the reason for it is when I specifically first got into fandom, as a teen.

See, this sort of fandom-librarian was harder to do in 1997, you know? You couldn't just pull up the wikipedia for that new show and see how many episodes it had. You also couldn't just listen to the whole discography of that band! Forget Spotify or Google Music, even Napster didn't exist yet.

So my interest in fandom focused a lot more on very basic questions: How many episodes/albums/books/whatever are there? Where can I see/hear them all? Like, I remember getting excited because I found some fan magazine that had a list of all the Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes. Just a list! Not even descriptions or anything. I finally could take that list and see how many I'd seen, so I'd know when I saw them all in late-night reruns.

So I'm focusing on these very basic parts of being a fandom-librarian and I stumble across some fanfic. I'm like "oh, is this a transcript of an episode I haven't seen yet?" and I realize it's not, it's a story written by a fan, and I get a knee-jerk reaction of "that's not helpful to my quest to know and find all the episodes". It's like I am on a quest for the holy grail and I found a fake cup. It's not helpful to me, and at worst it's a distraction from my goal.

And the thing is, I think the fact I had that reaction is entirely due to the time and situation in which I first encountered fanfic. It was in that environment of "I can't even find a list of the episodes, let alone a way to watch them all!" and that anxiety that colored my response to finding fanfic.

I think if I instead was first introduced to fanfic NOW, where those fandom-librarian drives aren't so difficult to fulfill, I'd be way more positive about fanfic. If I could get a list of episodes with a quick google search, and watch them easily on netflix/prime/whatever, I'd be less "THIS DOESN'T HELP! I AM STRUGGLING WITH THE BASICS HERE!" and more "yay, more content for the fandom I'm obsessed with!"

Like I said, I'm not anti-fanfic, I never have been, I just never got into it. From the beginning I had this reaction that was "this is not useful" and I never developed any real interest in it. Which is a shame, honestly. Fanfic is great. It just never became one of my interests, and while I've written it and read it from time to time, I imagine I'd be way more into it if I didn't have the weird reaction to it due to the worries of the time in which I first encountered it.

I don't know how many other people have brains that work anything like mine, but if they exist, I'm glad they're now growing up in a world where they won't have these problems. They can get into fanfic without this weird baggage caused by a lack of information.

[animasola86]

Kinktober: It is that time again.

Notes: Listen! I woke up feeling naughty again this morning and yet I somehow produced a fluffy, wholesome family life lovey dovey omg they are so freaking cute piece, at least for three pages, after that we're going straight to the topic of @kinktober2023: breeding kink.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Genre: Fluff/Smut // Words: 8k // [Read on AO3]

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Marital sex. Oh and also: breeding kink.

Warning: After you die of diabetes or cute aggression by reading the first part of this, there will be severe filth following. (Though to be fair, I think I've written worse before >_> Still, it's smut: so if you want to keep your innocence, please look away!)

It is that time again, darling.

It is Friday afternoon in the Sallow cottage, and you're sitting on the couch by the fireplace, enjoying a good book – completely ignoring the loud and certainly obnoxious argument your twin boys are having. They do it all the time, so it's nothing new.

They come after their father in so many ways, it's almost scary. From the messy brunet hair that you failed to comb so many times, to the deep brown eyes that can turn your anger into adoration in only a few seconds (they know that fact by now, which is never a good thing) – to the insatiable hunger for knowledge and the equally insatiable desire to always get what they want.

Benjamin and Archie Sallow surely are Sebastian's sons. As they bicker over who gets to play with the toy train first, your gaze wanders to the corner of the room to your quiet daughter.

Little Anne is in her own world, surrounded by various sheets of parchment and paper, her colouring pencils strewn about as she scribbles away, equally ignoring her arguing brothers. You smile softly as you take in her features. She comes after you, has your eyes and unlike her brothers and father not a single freckle on her pale little face, probably because unlike the men of the house, she likes to stay indoors, drawing and reading with her equally sun deprived mother.

Just as you return to your book, the door opens, and the noise of your bickering boys subsides immediately and turns into a wail of joy as the twins jump up and into the arms of their father. You look at Sebastian with wide eyes and an equally wide smile, you haven't expected him home this early.

“I'm home!” he calls, laughing with one son on each arm as he enters the small house.

You stand from the couch and walk towards him, unable to stop the need to kiss him. As you do, your sons issue grunts of displeasure, yet you only laugh and kiss your husband more.

“Did you miss me?” he asks softly, his dark eyes on you as he sets his sons to the ground again.

“I always miss you,” you whisper and wrap your arms around him.

“You know, I'm only on the other side of the lake, right?” he teases and grabs your chin to plant another kiss on your lips – followed by another synchronised noise of disgust from the twins.

He is right, of course. You chose this house in Aranshire so you can always look over the lake to the castle, imagining your husband walking the halls of Hogwarts, teaching kids in Magical Theory, being in his element. He still spends a lot of time there, has his own room in the castle if his work load gets too much, but every Friday to late Sunday he will come home to you and spend as much time with you and your three children as he can.

“I still wish I'd see you more...” you whisper and lean against him, your hand gently grazing the stubble on his cheek.

“You could teach too, you know? You were offered a position, remember?” he says as he guides you back to the couch.

“You know I can't,” you sigh and look around the house. Your boys are back fighting over the train toy and Anne is still so fixated on her drawing, she hasn't even noticed Sebastian's return yet.

“Soon you can,” he whispers and makes you sit on the couch. “The boys will be at Hogwarts and our little princess here –” he starts and sneaks towards the little girl sitting with her back to the room. “– can handle her own. Hey princess, Daddy's back!” he then says as he grabs his daughter under the arms and lifts her up swiftly. She squeals and kicks, then quickly relaxes and throws her tiny arms around his neck as a wide smile comes to her lips.

“Hello Daddy,” she squeaks, and he laughs softly as he hugs her back.

“How's my little girl?” he asks and tilts his head to look at what she has been drawing.

“Don't look!” she says in that sweet, high-pitched voice. “It's a surprise!”

Sebastian chuckles and presses his lips to the top of her head. “Fine, fine, I won't look! Keep your secrets!” he sets her back to the ground and gently ruffles her hair before he lets her go back to her drawing and finally returns to you.

You reach your arms out to him, and he follows suit immediately, settling down next to you on the couch, your arms entangled as he pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. For a moment you just sit together, looking into each other's eyes, the bickering of your boys just another background noise.

“I've been thinking, darling,” he then says, and one of those wicked smirks comes to his handsome face.

“Yes?” you ask carefully and arch an eyebrow.

He barks a laugh and quickly leans closer to kiss your raised eyebrow. “Don't give me that look, I know for a fact that you'll love it,” he then says and winks at you.

“Really?” you wonder and watch how he disentangles your limbs and stands from the couch, returning to the bag he has left at the door.

“Oh yes,” he calls back and rummages through his bag before he walks to the twins, holding something behind his broad back. “Boys,” he says with a mock-stern voice to get their attention. The mini versions of himself look up with big eyes, their fight momentarily paused. “Have you been nice to Mummy and your sister?”

The boys nod eagerly, already knowing what's coming. He always brings them back gifts when he returns on Fridays. They know the drill and yet they are always so excited about it. You smile softly as you watch the scene before you.

“Well, how about you give your Mummy and Daddy a little break and take this outside?” he then says and produces two toy trains in his big palms.

The twins stare at him, and Benjamin, the cheekier one of the two, raises an eyebrow. “Dad, we already have toy trains...” he says and holds up the toy that he has finally snatched from his brother's hand.

Sebastian laughs. “Not these ones. If you push this button, they'll get bigger,” he says and shows them what he means. “But you can only use them outside, do you understand?”

The twins rise to their feet and crane their necks to look at their father. You already dread the day when they would become as tall as Sebastian, but luckily both of them have yet to hit any major growth spurt. He holds the toy closer and looks at them intently.

“Do you understand?” he repeats in a rather stern voice.

They both nod. “Yes, sir,” they say in unison and quickly grab the toys from his palms and run outside.

“Be good! No terrorizing the cats, alright?” he calls after them and then closes the door again, turning towards you now with that wicked smirk. Through the closed door you can hear your sons laugh and giggle as the sound of a train horn fills the square.

“Will they be alright?” you whisper as you stand from the couch and walk towards him.

“Of course, don't worry! Edgar will have an eye on them as usual,” he says with a disarming smile as he grabs your hand and eagerly pulls you along, right towards your bedroom.

You hold him back and take a look towards your daughter, who is focused on her drawings once again. “What about Anne?” you whisper, knowing what your husband is up to.

“She'll be fine, too,” he whispers back, leaning over you to brush his lips against your ear. “She won't hear a thing...”

You blush at the implication. When you look up at him, you can't help but smile back as he watches you with those dark eyes that can make you do anything. Biting your lip, you nod and follow him into your shared bedroom.

As the door closes behind you, you are very glad that he put up all those silencing charms and protection spells and anything else that will keep whatever happens in here out of earshot of your precious children. Because when he grabs your waist and pulls you flush against his body, you know you won't be able to keep your noises to yourself.

He doesn't waste any time and starts to undress you with nimble fingers, quickly unbuttoning your shirt as he leans down to shower your face and neck with light, innocent kisses. You inhale sharply.

“Do you know how old our sons are?” he then asks as he pushes your skirt down your legs.

You are a little confused by his question and frankly, a little too distracted to think at the moment. “They are... ten...” you whisper.

“And how old is our baby girl?”

“Five,” you reply and tilt your head, letting him nibble on your neck as he gets rid of the last of your garments.

“And do you see a pattern there?” he then says and leans back to look at you with a wide smile.

You blink slowly. “Sebastian, what –”

“It is that time again, darling,” he says with a smirk and quickly pushes his mouth to yours, silencing any doubts for the moment. Your hands reach up and cup his face, and when you finally manage to push him off your lips, you stare at him.

“Are you sure about this?”

He laughs. “Yes! Absolutely! It's time for another one, don't you think?”

“But we already live so cramped here...” you start finding arguments, when in reality you don't see any real reason not to indulge in his desire for another child.

“You realize you are a witch and I am a wizard? We'll just add another room, no worries! And I thought you loved the cosy feeling of our tight little space...” he whispers, leaning back down to kiss your cheek.

You breathe a little harder. “Yes, I do...” you whimper as he sinks his teeth playfully into your neck.

“Then I see no problem with me indulging in your tight space,” he says, and his words make you shiver, or maybe it's his fingers slipping between your legs, teasing at your folds.

“Another one, hm?” you whisper breathlessly.

“Or two, who knows?” he laughs and quickly picks you up to carry you to the bed. You frown at his words. “Those twin genes are strong...”

You groan playfully as he sets you down, and you scramble back on the bed, watching him. He is out of his clothes in no time, and when he crawls over you, settling right between your open legs, he gives you a serious look.

“Only if you're ready,” he says quietly, his dark eyes wandering over your face.

You watch him, and despite the emotional blackmail of those damn eyes, you find yourself smiling and already imagining having another baby. You also think about the last times the both of you decided on adding to your little family. The many hours you had spent in bed together come to your mind, and you can only imagine how long it will take this time. The thought alone causes your legs to twitch.

“Yes,” you eventually say and reach your arms out to him. “I am ready,” you whisper, and when he follows your beckoning to lie on top of you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, you add: “Put your seed in me, Sebastian.”

He leans back immediately and stares at you, not having expected these kinds of words from his beautiful, innocent wife. A sly smirk breaks from his lips. And you smirk right back. He must know by now that your sweet face is only a facade. He's corrupted you a long time ago. And even though you spend nearly every weekend in bed together, enjoying the other's body, the prospect of doing the deed with a purpose, makes it even more exciting for you.

“Then we won't need these,” he says with a wider smirk as he leans over you to the night-stand, rummaging through the first drawer where you keep your contraceptive potions. “Instead we might need... this,” he whispers and produces a tiny flask. “It's going to be a long night, love,” he adds and looks at you, before he downs the contents of the potion he rarely uses, but when he does, you know you're in for a treat – that will last (him) a very long time indeed.

You blush deeply and bite your lip, the heat already spreading through your body. When he leans back, gently putting his entire body weight on you as he cups your face with both hands, you see something you see very rarely: a tear in the corner of his eye. You quickly lean up and graze your thumbs over his cheeks. “You make me very happy, you know that?” he says softly, smiling at you.

You smile back and lean up to kiss him gently. “I'm trying my best,” you reply.

He chuckles. “Oh you don't even have to try, darling,” he says and kisses you back so gently you almost forget about what will come next. “You just do, no matter what you do, what you say, how you look, just thinking about my beautiful wife and all the things she has already done for me...” He inhales deeply. “I love you,” he says and presses his lips to your cheek, his eyes boring into yours. “And I will always love you.”

The warmth his words (and the way he looks at you) create in you almost overpowers the heat you feel for him. Grabbing the back of his neck, you pull him down onto your lips and kiss him deeply. “I love you too...” you whisper breathlessly between circling your tongue around his. “I love you so much, Sebastian. And now fill me up already!”

You feel him chuckling against your mouth. “So eager,” he teases and pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth. When he leans back slightly, planting tiny kisses on your lips, cheeks and jaw, his low voice vibrates through your very core. “My naughty, naughty girl...”

You watch him with your head spinning from lack of air, a small smirk playing around your lips as he moves his mouth to your neck. While you play with his hair, he sucks and nibbles on your soft skin, marking you as his own, as if the ring on your finger and the three children somewhere beyond your closed bedroom door weren't enough proof that you were his and his alone. That is the last time you'll think about your beautiful offspring for this day (or so you hope), as other things settle in your mind and you really don't want them to mix.

When he is done with his mark, gently lapping at your bruised skin, he kisses your neck and leans back on his arms, taking some of his weight off you, allowing your chest to rise and fall faster as you watch him. He looks at you with those dark hungry eyes, and you inhale deeply as he starts showering your bare body with kisses, all the way from your collarbone over the peaks of your plum breasts (that he gives a gentle squeeze with one of his hands as he moves down) until he presses his mouth to your stomach, his fingers softly massaging your skin.

“I can't wait to fill you up,” he whispers hoarsely, kissing your stomach, his fingers pressing down firmly. “I'll fill your womb...” he says and rests his head on your lower torso as if listening for something that isn't even there yet. “And I'll watch you grow... knowing it was my seed that made you so...” You feel his heavy breaths on your skin as you reach down to gently caress his hair, digging your fingers through his locks, smiling softly to yourself.

He stays like that for at least ten seconds, giving you the illusion of peace and quiet and hopeful dreams of the future, a really tender and romantic moment, and once those seconds are over, he presses his lips to your stomach, pushes himself up and quickly leans back, looking at you with that wicked smirk again.

“Let's prepare my beautiful breeding vessel,” he teases and grabs your hips to position himself right between your legs.

You stare at him. “What did you just call me?” you laugh as he puts your legs on his shoulders.

He just smirks wider, and without any warning, he leans down and presses his mouth to your aching centre, kissing your lower stomach down towards your quivering core. You forget about his wording the moment his lips close around your clit. A soft moan escapes you as you throw your head back into the pillow. You feel his tongue prodding at the throbbing bundle of nerves as his fingers wrap around your thighs, squeezing them hard.

“Ugh, call me whatever you like...” you groan, your hips bucking against his face as he keeps sucking with vigour. He chuckles against you, his voice and the feeling of his stubble on your sensitive skin giving you all the friction you need to produce another long moan.

“Sweetheart,” you hear him say as he releases your clit and plants soft kisses on your heated skin. “Darling,” he continues, and you shiver with every term of endearment and every kiss. “Honey.” He keeps going, whispering more names as he presses his mouth to your lower lips, his tongue gently swiping along them. “Love. Sweetie. Baby...” He pulls your soft skin between his teeth and gently sucks on it, coaxing more moans out of you as your fingers grip his hair tighter. “Kitten. Pet,” he finishes as he releases you again and leans up to look at you.

You watch him out of half-lidded eyes, your breaths shallow. As he holds your gaze, you feel one of his hands moving over your centre, his fingertips tracing the outer edges of your labia. Warmth settles in your cheeks as he keeps rubbing his fingers over your sensitive skin, his dark eyes boring into yours, a concentrated look on his handsome face. When he teases a finger between your folds, he looks down and raises his eyebrows.

“So wet for me, my love,” he whispers and moves his finger up and down your slick, the slight squelching sounds filling the room – and you with enough embarrassment that you turn your head away and put a hand to your mouth to hide behind. “You are so beautiful,” you hear him whisper. “Everything about you... Don't be ashamed.”

When he suddenly leans over you and grabs your face with both hands, making you look at him, you gasp softly. His wet finger grazes your ear, and you bite your lip, swallowing hard.

“No need to hide from me, darling,” Sebastian says sternly, watching you closely. “I know every inch of your body, I've seen it so many times and it still amazes me to this day and all the days to come. What your body has given me in all these years... I cannot express how proud I am of you,” he whispers intently, before kissing you softly. “But I will always try.”

You grab the back of his head and kiss him back with fervour, not letting go of him now. He complies and deepens the kiss as his hand moves back down between your legs, continuing its journey through your warmth. When you feel him prod at your entrance, you whimper softly into his mouth. He shushes you and keeps his tongue in a playful wrestle with yours before he pushes one of his fingers into you.

Yours walls clench around him as he starts to explore your tightness, pushing against and scraping over your soft wet flesh until he pushes as deep as he can from this angle. It is when he begins to pump his finger in and out, slowly at first, then much faster and harder, that you moan into his mouth and hold onto him tighter, feeling the tension building up quicker than you've expected.

Suddenly he leaves your mouth and scrambles back down between your legs, repositioning himself right at your quivering cunt. He adds another finger and continues pushing them into you hard and fast, while his free hand holds down your hips that you can't seem to control any more. More moans escape you, and you have to grip the bedsheets as he leans his head down and sucks on your clit again.

His tongue is eagerly lapping at your nub, rigorously pressing and prodding it, licking and rubbing, while his fingers speed up more and more, the wet sounds echoing through the room. But you're too aroused to be embarrassed now as you thrash your head around in nothing but pure ecstasy. You moan his name louder and louder, and when the tension reaches its highest point – he suddenly withdraws his fingers, and you feel his face pressing against your folds as he slips his tongue past your stretched entrance.

“Come on my tongue, darling,” you feel him mumbling into you, and as he moves his wet fingers to feverishly rub at your clit, you comply without hesitation as the coil burst within you, and you cry out and press your back into the mattress, your release pushing out of you with a force that shakes your entire body as you arch your hips off the bed and right into his face. He moves with you, holding your rear with his free arm while he laps at your juices.

More tremors and shivers rush through you, before you slowly come down again, gently placed back with the help of his hand. Breathing heavily, your heart thundering inside your chest, you watch out of hooded eyes how he eventually emerges from between your legs, his entire face covered in your release.

You sit up then, shaking badly, but you feel the need to do this as your hands find his cheeks, and you wipe at them, watching him with your own cheeks bright red. He chuckles and grabs your wrists, leaning towards you to claim your mouth instead. You taste yourself on his tongue as you deepen the kiss hungrily. When he leans back, you sneak a hand out of his grip and push a strand of his messy hair out of his forehead, smiling softly at him.

He smiles back and gives you another peck, before he gently but firmly pushes you back down on the bed, his hand trailing your chest, teasing at your hard nipples, until he rests it once more on your shivering stomach. Pressing down hard on your skin, you see him lick his lips. You swallow at the sight, knowing what is going through his head right now, and soon enough he moves again.

You watch him scramble off the bed, your eyes inadvertently moving towards his hard arousal twitching slightly (the potion seems to have worked already) as he comes to stand at the foot of the bed. His hungry eyes move to yours, and in the next moment, he has grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him, your legs falling off the bed. You let out a surprised shriek-laugh. He then grabs a pillow and shoves it under your lower back, raising your hips up.

He's always so gentle in his preparations that you sometimes forget what kind of animal he can turn into once he is done with said preparations. Yet he's usually quick to remind you. As he positions himself between your legs, you watch him grabbing his cock with one hand, the other ghosting your stomach downwards until he teases your throbbing clit. When he pushes his tip against your folds, you brace for his intrusion, watching him with your lips parted, yet he takes his time and lathers his girth with your wetness first, slowly rubbing it up and down through your slick.

You moan softly at the sensation, one of your hands moving up to caress your firm and currently unattended breast. While you watch him stroke his cock with confident strength, you roll your nipple between your thumb and index finger, whimpering quietly. His eyes snap to your face, and the dark look he is giving you almost freezes you on the spot. As he stares at you, he aligns his tip with your entrance, and at the same time as he pushes into you with one swift snap of his hips, his hands move forwards and grab both of your breasts at once, firmly squeezing them as he rolls his hips against you.

A loud moan escapes you, and you quickly retrieve your fingers from his grasp before you claw them into the bedsheets. Your walls may have expected his intrusion, but when it happened, it still took them and yourself by surprise. His force is unrelenting, and he only stops pushing into your tight channel when his balls press against your arse. You gasp, barely able to breathe for a moment, as you try to adjust to his size.

He's holding onto your breasts tightly, using them to guide his pelvis flush against yours, and once he's satisfied with how deep he is inside of you, he starts massaging your soft flesh, his palms rolling over your nipples, coaxing more and more whimpers out of you. “I wonder,” you hear him say gravelly, “I wonder how big they'll get this time...”

You chuckle softly, even more so when you catch the slightest bit of pink on his cheeks. Unclenching your hands, you rest them on his, causing him to look at you. His smile is almost shy and reminds you so much of the boy you fell in love with all those years ago. Even back then, he has been able to do the most vile things to you, but when it came to your breasts, he had always cherished them greatly, probably even more so now that they were so much bigger.

He licks his lips and folds his body over yours, moving within you as he does so, causing you to gasp slightly, before he places a soft kiss on your mouth, holding his face there for a moment, as if asking you something he cannot quite put into words. But you know what he wants to do, and with another chuckle, you put your hands down and move your chest up against the firm grasp of his. “Go ahead,” you whisper.

His eyes light up, and as he lowers his face down, moving his hands to hold your waist, his mouth quickly finds the pert bud of your left breast, eagerly sucking on it. As you moan softly, your hand starting to caress his hair once more, you watch him swirl his tongue around your sensitive skin, his teeth grazing it almost a little roughly. After nurturing three very hungry children, feeling the mouth of your husband there doesn't come as a surprise to you.

His words, however, catch you a little off guard. “I can't wait for you to lactate again...” he mumbles against you, and you hide your blush with a soft laugh.

“You might need to put a baby in me first, you know?” you tease him after he keeps caressing your tender tits, sucking on one and massaging the other with his fingers. You even buck your hips against him, reminding him how he's still buried deep within your warmth.

Without leaning back, he looks up at you, the creases in the corners of his eyes deepening as he smirks against your chest. “Who's impatient now?” he teases right back and gives your hard nipple a firm suck and a quick nibble.

You inhale sharply, glowering at him. He laughs as he leans back eventually, his fingers drawing soft lines on your stomach as he does. Once he's towering over you once more, with his hands now firmly on your waist, he tilts his head. Without another word, you feel him pulling out slowly, your walls clenching around him, trying to suck him back in. He almost slips out all the way, but then he thrusts forward harshly, hitting your cervix with a force that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

He repeats the exact same motion several times, each time pushing as deep as possible with as much strength as he trusts himself to exert against you. You quickly turn into a moaning, whimpering mess, your legs twitching badly with every slam of his pelvis against you. In the middle of your haze, you admire his control and wonder when he'll lose it as well. But he stays very deliberate in his movements, guiding his length in and out of you with slow but hard stabs that leave you shuddering and aching for more.

His grip on your waist betrays him though, you can see the veins and muscles popping beneath the skin of his arms as he tries to keep that steady rhythm for as long as possible, even though you know he wants nothing more than to ram into you in rapid, forceful little snaps of his hips as he fucks you open to finally receive his seed.

You watch him out of half-lidded eyes, your lips parted and swollen, your noises bleeding into the slapping of skin against skin that fill the small room. You manage to move your shaking hands down, gently brushing against the vice-like grip he has on your waist. He looks at you then, his eyes darker than ever, his own lips trembling before he presses them together into a straight line. In-between softly moaning, you smile at him – and that is all it takes for him to change his rhythm.

He moves his hands to rest on either side of your hips, clenched to tight fists, as he then starts to plunge into you faster, no longer as deep, but still pushing with as much fervour and vigour as he can muster. His groans fill your ears, and you close your eyes as the sensations build up more and more inside your stomach. Every thrust rocks you up the bed, but before he pushes you further, you raise your twitching legs and wrap them tightly around his waist, the change in angle coaxing even louder moans out of your throat.

Grabbing your thighs, he holds you in place and keeps slamming his pelvis against yours, eventually finding a rhythm that is both fast and deep, and every single inward motion hits that sweet spot right at your cervix. You squirm and writhe, whimpering more and more as you arch your back into the mattress, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure he is giving you. You throw your arms back and grab at the edge of the bed, holding onto it as if your life depended on it. The way your muscles contract it certainly feels like it.

“Come for me, baby,” you hear him grunt quietly, and when your eyes move to his face, you see that he's holding back his own release with how his jaw is clenched.

You start moving your hips with him, and it doesn't take long for you to fulfil his wish. The pleasure explodes inside you, sending you thrashing around on the bed, a long cry escaping you, before your entire body freezes and the coiled up tension dissipates in nothing but pure bliss that gnaws at the edge of your vision. He holds you tightly during your orgasm, keeping his rapid rhythm, forcing you higher and higher, until his hips snap against you for one final deep thrust, and it feels as if he's even deeper now, his tight, quivering balls buried in your folds as he comes right after you with a loud groan.

Your walls flutter around his cock as you feel him twitching within you. His warm seed pumps out of him with every twitch, painting your walls, squeezing into any orifice it can find, and as it does, he moves one of his hands to your stomach and pushes down hard again, feeling the sensation of his release through the deep tissue of your skin. You whimper slightly, and he eases his grip and looks at you, panting just as much as you do, but he still gives you a smile that almost pushes you over the edge again.

You reach your arms out to him, beckoning him closer, and he complies, leaning over you to press his lips to yours as you embrace him tightly. You can still feel him twitching inside you, still filling you up, as his tongue invades your mouth hungrily. Kissing him back, you moan softly against him, your crossed feet caressing his lower back as you do so. The warmth within you is indescribable, be it the actual seed seeping into you or the thought of what it will do to you eventually, it fills you up to the brim with happiness and then some.

You feel the same emotion coursing through him as he holds you firmly, his hands slipping beneath your body as he presses you to his chest and lifts you slowly into a sitting position. Once he releases your mouth again, you rest your forehead against his shoulder, breathing heavily.

Yet as you think he is done with you, happy with filling you up, you must have forgotten who it is that's holding you in his grasp. You should have known better than to think that Sebastian Sallow will leave it at this. He knows what he wants, and you know he won't stop until he gets it. It being the absolute certainty that his seed has found a home in your womb. And as you look at him, your limbs twitching in exhaustion, you know he isn't done with you yet.

That wicked smirk is back on his lips, and as you notice it, he presses his mouth against yours for a quick kiss before he slowly lets go of you, his hands prying your thighs open until your legs fall boneless to his sides. Pressing his hand on your lower stomach, he slowly moves back and pulls out of you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you bite your lip as you watch him, the sensation causing more tremors to rush through your body.

As soon as his cock leaves your warm embrace, covered in your combined juices, he puts his palm over your entrance, trapping the seed that's bound to spill from you. “Hmm,” he makes in thought and looks from his hand to you and back down.

Raising an eyebrow, you witness the gears turning in his head, amusement settling in your chest. When he then grabs your hand and switches his hand with yours, pressing it gently against your wetness, you frown deeply. “Do you expect me to sit here with my hand down there, waiting for something to grow?” you tease, your voice slightly hoarse.

He chuckles a little nervously. “No, of course not,” he says and looks around the room. “Hold it for me for just a moment, okay?”

You watch him walk around the room until he stops in front of your dresser, shamelessly rummaging through your underwear drawer. He retrieves a pair, but then his eyes fall onto the box you store on top of the furniture piece. He drops the garment and grabs something else instead, and as he returns to you, your mouth falls open. “Sebastian... what –”

But you can't stop him as he takes your hand away and shoves one of the many wand handles you collected over the years right into your quivering cunt, plugging it shut. It feels cold and hard as it pushes against your walls. You gasp and shudder deeply, staring from the intricate black object poking out of your entrance up into his flushed face.

“You can't be serious,” you just say and shake your head. “Is that one of the marble handles?”

“It is, fits perfectly, doesn't it? I'll clean it after, don't worry,” he adds cheekily and leans down to kiss you. “Now turn around for me,” he then commands, waiting for you to obey.

You do, obviously, and stand up on shaking legs. You feel his hands guiding you as you turn around, clenching your thighs together to keep the handle inside. Once you climb back onto the bed on your hands and knees, you feel his fingers pushing the object back in as it threatened to slip out. Shivering, you lean down on your chest and elbows, arching your body to only keep your rear in the air. As you settle in the new position, he steps behind you, grabbing your hips to move you a little closer to the edge again.

You turn your head and rest on your cheek, taking a shuddering breath as you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He has his cock in one hand and gives himself a few tight strokes, breathing heavily. Apparently the potion still works, and he has a lot more to give you. His other hand plays around with the wand handle lodged inside you as he pulls it and turns it, teasing you with every slight movement.

“We should use toys more often, don't you think?” you hear him say, and you let out a tired chuckle that's almost a groan.

“Well, next time you bring gifts to the kids, think of me as well, alright?” you whisper into the pillow.

He laughs and pokes at the object again, pushing it deeper. You whimper quietly, your legs shaking at the sensation. “You can't tell me you never thought of sticking these things into your pussy,” he says quietly through laboured breaths.

“Who says I haven't?” you reply with a smirk. That renders him completely speechless. “You're usually gone all week...” you purr and lick your lips. “And a girl has needs...”

He exhales loudly, and suddenly he grabs the wand handle and basically rips it out of you. You shriek and squirm, and with a heavy thud it lands on the floor next to the bed. Before you can complain, you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. “You would choose one of those,” he says through gritted teeth, “over my cock?” He doesn't wait for your answer (and frankly it's not necessary), he simply rolls his hips forwards and rams his entire length into you.

Coated with his seed and prepared from the handle, your walls welcome him back with ease. You moan as he pushes in deep once more, wrapping his arms around your stomach and pulling you flush against him as he folds his body over yours. You can feel him pressing against your cervix and almost further as he stands balls deep over you, holding your shuddering body that would certainly fall into itself at the sensation if it wasn't for his strong arms.

“Doesn't this feel so much better?” he whispers as he leans down more, his lips brushing over your ear.

“Yes...” you whimper. “Of course... it does...” Breathing seems hard in this position with his body weighing on you and his cock prodding your womb.

He kisses your earlobe and starts grinding his hips against you in small circles, each movement coaxing more noises out of you. This time his noises join yours, and the heavy breaths he issues right against your ear make you close your eyes and moan softly as you dig your fingers into the bedsheets.

“Have you thought about names yet?” he then coos, and you can only groan as a shiver runs down your spine.

“No, Sebastian...” you mutter into the pillow. “Kind of... busy here...”

His laugh and the low timbre of his voice almost send you right over the edge. “I was thinking... Beatrice... if it's a girl... or Bartholomew if it's a boy...”

You squirm beneath him, exhaling loudly through your nose. “Bartholomew?”

“Yes...” he grunts as he starts giving you tiny thrusts that send tiny jolts of pain through your body. “Seems... fitting... you know with... Benjamin... and Archie... and Anne...”

“Sebastian!” you squeal and buck your rear against him. “Can we not talk about our children while you are balls deep in my vagina?”

“Oh sweetheart,” he chuckles into your ear. “That's where those children came from, why shouldn't we?”

You groan and bury your flushed face in the pillow. “I like Beatrice,” you then mumble, earning you another low chuckle that makes you shudder deeply. You feel him kissing your cheek.

“Would be nice to have another baby girl,” he whispers and inhales deeply as he halts the movements of his hips for a moment.

You relax slightly, but it only lasts for so long before he leans back suddenly, grabs your waist and starts ramming his cock deep and fast into your quivering cunt. The moans that fall from your lips are loud and quick and make your head spin. You grip the bedsheets tightly, your knuckles turning white, as you brace your body against his rapid thrusts.

Once again you'd be impressed by his stamina if your head wouldn't be so empty. As he grunts and groans, his movements far from deliberate now and more on the rougher side, you can only lie there, your face pressed into the pillow and your knees shaking so badly you wonder how you can still keep them up like this. Perhaps it's his grip on your waist that holds you up, or it's sheer willpower as you try to do your part of this deal in providing him the best angle for him to push his length into you.

You can feel him going deeper and deeper, and the slight shudder in his movements tells you that he's trying to press himself into regions he shouldn't possible enter, yet he tries nevertheless – and the pressure of his attempts is what kicks you right over the edge. The tension in your stomach coils up once again, and when your body starts spasming violently, you know you can't hold it any longer.

As your knees give way under the intense tremors, you feel your walls tightening around him painfully, all of your muscles contract, and this time, it's a long and loud wail that leaves your lips as you fold under the pleasure of your third orgasm of the day. The tight grip of his hands on your bruised waist holds you in that position, and you feel him leaning closer, one of his knees propped up beneath you in support as he keeps slamming his pelvis into yours forcefully.

All you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears, the almost obscene slapping of skin against skin and his deep, animalistic grunts as he exerts himself to crash over the edge as well. When he finally does, he groans loudly, his final thrust into you so powerful it pushes you right into the bed before his body falls on top of yours, his cock ramming deeper as he shoots his load right into your womb.

You cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, buried beneath his weight and overwhelmed by the sensation of his cum shooting into you in thick warm spurts as his cock twitches inside you, filling you up more and more as he lies heavily on you, his shallow breaths right in your ear. You can barely breathe yourself, but somehow it doesn't matter.

You're one step closer to bearing his fourth child.

It takes him a moment to collect himself again, and when he does, it's due to an interruption you both haven't anticipated. There's a faint knock on the door that makes you shudder deeply. He shifts on top of you slightly, inhaling sharply as he stretches his hand out to summon his wand from the pile of clothes next to the bed. You hear him muttering something and you know he's lifting the silencing charm on the door to answer whoever is on the other side.

“What is it?” he calls, trying to sound as composed as possible – despite the rather indecent situation you both find yourselves in.

“Daddy? Archie hit his head!” you can hear the faint voice of your daughter through the door.

You immediately start to stir beneath him as your motherly instincts kick in. But he holds you down with a firm hand to your shoulder as he leans back up slightly.

“Is he bleeding?” he asks through the door.

“No,” comes the hesitant answer.

He exhales loudly. “Is he conscious?”

“Is he what?”

“Can he talk? Cry? Are his eyes open?” he explains, in spite of everything calm and patient.

“He's crying,” Anne answers quietly.

“Then he's fine,” Sebastian mutters under his breath, and you are tempted to hit him if any of your limbs would work. He notices your reaction nonetheless and quickly kisses the back of your head. “I'll be there in five minutes!” he then calls to his daughter. “Go and get Mr Adley!”

“Okay, Daddy,” your little girl squeaks, and you can hear quick footsteps hurrying away.

After he puts the silencing charm back up, he drops his wand next to your head and leans down once more, pushing you deeper into the bed again, his lips brushing over your ear. You can still feel him twitching inside you, he's still not done filling you up. While you feel a little ashamed to have been interrupted by your daughter (though she luckily didn't catch you in the act, you really don't want your kids to ever see you like this), his body just kept going, and you admire his willpower once again.

You admire him, period.

For a moment you just lie there, your bodies moulded together, before you stir slightly. “Sebastian,” you whisper quietly, your voice muffled by the pillow beneath you.

“Hmm?” he hums softly against you.

“You realize that Edgar will come here, right?” you say with a soft chuckle.

“Oh blast!” he then hisses, and suddenly he leans back, unfolding his body from yours, leaving your skin tingling and cold without his warm embrace.

You feel him scrambling back, and when he pulls out, you moan softly as your walls clench tightly, threatening to pump his seed out as well. Yet he is one step ahead of you, and without any warning, you feel the cold, hard wand handle plugging your hole again. Squirming against it, you feel him grabbing your hips and turning you around before he pushes your thighs firmly together. “Hold that for me, will you?” he urges and then proceeds to dress in what must be a new record for him.

As you look at him, you can't help but smile. Inhaling deeply, you lean on your elbows and watch him. There he is, back in his shirt and his trousers, his soaked, throbbing cock hidden away behind the stiff fabric, not even hinting at the erection that he forced into hiding. He must be very uncomfortable right now, yet he doesn't show it one bit. When he notices your smile, he walks around the bed and leans down to kiss your sweaty forehead.

“I'll be right back, alright?” he whispers, watching you closely. “I promised you a long night, remember?”

“Oh I remember,” you whisper back and grab his arm gently. “Take care of our children, okay?”

“Of course, love,” he says and kisses you once more. “I bet Edgar would love a sleepover party, don't you think?”

You laugh softly. He winks at you, grabs his wand from beside your head and unlocks the door, before he leaves you alone in your bedroom, filled with his seed and the promise to give you even more. Lying back with a sigh, you close your eyes and shift against the wand handle between your legs.

Ending notes:

I almost feel the need to continue this and build a whole ass story around it. I mean, imagine a 30-something Professor Sallow, teaching Magical Theory, stepping into Fig's footsteps, teaching and inspiring young minds. And then when he's home, he has his cute little children (who'll attend Hogwarts soon-ish) and his loving wife and oh the potential this has! (But we'll see. Maybe I'll just drop a little more snippets of life with Dad!Seb in the future, who knows.) (Psst! Part two just dropped! Look!)

(By the way: The names of his kids are kindly borrowed from @subastian-swallows who made a Dad!Seb-bot whose prompt alone inspired me to write this!)

Oh and that wand handle... is this one, just for reference, if you need it.

Also, maybe a little disclaimer: I am not a mother and never intend to be one, but this mf of a pixel boy makes me indulge in things I never considered before, so I hope my attempt at portraying a family was somewhat realistic.

Thank you for reading!

Btw:

THERE'S A SECOND PART NOW!!!

[ masterlist ]

Other Kinktober submissions:

Pleasant dreams... and tentacles (somnophilia, tentacles)

A scholar and a pervert (overstimulation, sex toys)

The horny ghost (voyeurism, masturbation, spectrophilia)

It belongs to me (deepthroating, semi-public)

A Filthy Fantasy (1/2) (cnc, bondage, sensory deprivation, orgasm denial)

A Filthy Fantasy (2/2) (threesome, oral/vaginal/anal)

[fanhackers]

Anne Kustritz’s Identity, Community, and Sexuality in Slash Fan Fiction

Anne Kustritz’s new book, Identity, Community, and Sexuality in Slash Fan Fiction: Pocket Publics has just been released by Routledge (2024).  You might know Kustritz, a scholar of fan cultures and transmedia storytelling, from her early essay “Slashing the Romance Narrative,” in the Journal of American Culture (2003) or maybe from some of her more recent work on transmedia and serial storytelling. But this new book is an exciting addition to the fan studies canon, and Fanhackers readers might be particularly interested, because the book “explores slash fan fiction communities during the pivotal years of the late 1990s and the early 2000s as the practice transitioned from print to digital circulation,”--which is the era that a lot of the fans involved in the creation of the OTW came from. As I noted in my book blurb, “​​While there has been an explosion of fan studies scholarship in the last two decades, we haven't had an ethnography of fan fiction communities since the early 1990s. Kustritz's Pocket Publics rectifies that, documenting the generation of slash fans who built much of fandom's infrastructure and many of its community spaces, both on and off the internet. This generation has had an outsized impact on contemporary fan cultures, and Kustritz shows how these fans created an alternative and subcultural public sphere: a world of their own.”

Kustritz doesn’t just analyze and contextualize fandom, she also describes her own experiences as a participant-observer, and these might resonate with a lot of fans (especially Fanhackers-reading fans!)  Early on in the book, Kustritz describes her how her own early interest in fandom blurred between the personal and the academic:

Because I began studying slash only a year after discovering fandom on-line, my interest has always been an intricate tangle of pleasure in the texts themselves, connection to brilliantly creative women, and fascination with intersections between fan activities and academic theory.  I may now disclaim my academic identity as an interdisciplinary scholar with concentrations in media anthropology and cultural studies and begin to pinpoint my fan identity as a bifictional multifandom media fan; however, I only gradually became aware of and personally invested in these categories as I grew into them.  This section defines the scope of the online observation period that preceded the active interview phase of this research.  In so doing it also examines the messy interconnections between my academic and fannish interests and identities. Trying to pick apart what portion of my choices derived from fannish pleasure and which from academic interest helps to identify the basic internal tensions and categories that slash fan fiction communities relied upon to define themselves, the pressures exerted upon these systems by the digital migration, and complications in academic translation of fannish social structures.

Later in the book, Kustritz discusses how fans have organized and advocated for themselves as a public; in particular, there’s a fascinating chapter about the ways in which fandom has adopted and transformed the figure of the pirate to forge new ways of thinking about copyright and authorship.  If the OTW was formed to argue that making fanworks is a legitimate activity, the figure of the pirate signifies a protest against the law and a refusal to be shamed by it: 

[F]ans also use the figure of the pirate to make arguments that validate some fan activities and consign others to illegitimacy.   At the urging of several friends involved with slash, I attended my first non-slash focused science fiction and fantasy convention in the summer of 2004.  The program schedule announced a Sunday morning panel discussion provocatively titled “Avast, Matey: The Ethics of Pirating Movies, Music, and Software” with the subheading “Computers today can distribute [more] intellectual property than ever before--not always legally. Is it ever okay to copy, download, and/or distribute media? Sorry, ladies, none of us will be dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow.”  The panel’s subheading, which obliquely warned away both lusty women and pirates, led a small contingent of slash fans to shake off Saturday night’s convention revelries unreasonably early and implement a plan of their own for Sunday’s panel.  As many fan conventions encourage costumes, known as “cosplay,” one of my friends and research participants happened to have been dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow of Pirates of the Caribbean that weekend, so I entered the piracy panel with Captain Jack and a motley crew of slashers, some of them intent upon commandeering the discussion.

The clash that followed exemplifies a structural fault line between various types of fan communities regarding their shared norms and beliefs about copyright law, the relationship between fans and producers, and appropriate fan behavior.

If you want to find out how this clash played out–well, you’ll just have to read the book. 😀

–Francesca Coppa, Fanhackers volunteer

[humanpurposes]

There isn't any point to this, I'm just ranting.

Lately, posting fanfiction feels like screaming into the void.

This isn't to say I'm not grateful for those who do interact with my posts. Since I've started posting fanfiction I've gone through phases of having a lot of motivation, having little motivation. Phases of comparing how many notes I get compared to someone else, then reminding myself why I started writing fics in the first place, because I can do exactly what I want with something I write. And I so appreciate all the comments, likes, kudos and reblogs I get on my fics.

There can be a whole load of different reasons why engagement in fandom lately has been not great. Season 2 being a mess, toxicity and petty drama within the fandom, dwindling attention spans, general disinterest in HotD and ASOIAF. I get it. I haven't felt particularity inspired by the latest season, I'm not very 'Tumblr sociable' and tend to stick to a few mutuals, I also haven't been interested in reading as much fanfiction for a few months.

And if someone doesn't want to interact with me or my content, for whatever reason, that's their business and it's completely valid. I don't write to hit a certain number of notes or followers. I write because I enjoy it. I started posting because I thought there might be a few people out there on the internet who might like what I was doing. In a way I have found that, and I know I wouldn't have stuck with writing this long if I hadn't started posting. But I won't lie and say it isn't disheartening when you get nothing or very little back after putting a lot of time and thought into a chapter.

And on top of that, some comments are just... the worst. What goes through someone's head that they feel the need to read a fic they don't like, comment all the reasons why they didn't like it, AND insult a writer who has posted this FOR FREE. We're all doing this as a hobby. The fact that fanfiction is public is not an open invitation to criticise, all you're doing is discouraging people from sharing their works or writing altogether, which damages our community. Fanfiction is not content simply there for you to consume. It's a pure form of creativity (in my opinion), because it doesn't come from necessity or obligation. If you don't like what you're reading, stop reading it. Find something else, or go write a hateful review of an actual book on Goodreads because at least that author got paid.

Or even just people being so stubborn about their dislike of certain characters. I can't tell you how sick I am of people taking the existence of Alys Rivers so personally in fics. Or wishing death upon characters that are clearly central to the plot or main relationship in a fic (why are you reading an Aemond fic if you hate Aemond)??? This fandom can only operate in extremes, apparently. There's no room for nuance or emotional complexity and it's frustrating when someone projects that on a fic.

I don't really have a point to this. Read what you want. Read the tags first. Reblog posts to keep them alive. Ask writers about their fics and OCs. Be nice to people.

[astrologythingzzz]

Moon sign observations ✨🌝

Hi everyone! I've thought about doing these for a very long time now! I'll be using my own experiences with the moon signs! 🌙

Some observations are going to be more accurate than others!

Take what resonates and please know that none of these are meant to hurt anyone! 🌝

P.s. I started a tiktok account. It's called Astrologythingzzz too. Check it out if you want to! 🧡

Aries moon

My mom has this placement. She's very ambitious, but also really loves to experience new things every other day! She can be very impulsive with money (it is in her 2nd house). Her emotions sometimes get the best of her. She needs variety and stimulation, when she was in her 20s she travelled a lot and had a big friend group! Personally, I've never met many people with aries moons so she's my only reference.

Taurus moon

My dad is a taurus moon. His most used sentence is "You can save money in every part of you life, but you should never save money when it comes to food." I think that's very typical for taurus placements. He craves stability and peace. He loves good food, dancing and family time. His love language is also giving you food that you like! He likes tradition, he's from Italy so he always makes sure that his children are very much in touch with his roots.

Gemini moon

That is my placement! I don't know anyone else with that placement, so I'll write down my own experience with this one. I'm bored easily, but I'm not superficial. Actually I'm not that social and not very outgoing. As a Child i loved reading and fantasising. I get very restless and nervous, sometimes I have sleep issues if my body is in distress (it is in my 12th house tho). I feel like there are two different gemini moon people, the one is the social, outgoing one, the other is socially withdrawn and nervous. Guess I got the latter one! 🌝

Cancer moon

These are the most loving, warm hearted people ever. They do everything for their family, they provide and make the best gifts! They really listen to the people they love, they also sense your feelings and are amazing at comforting. One of my best friends that I used to talk to had this placement. Sadly we are not involved with each other anymore, but she always felt like home to me. You can count on them to cook you your favorite meal or bake your favorite cookies!

Leo moon

Sadly I've never been truly involved with one. The ones that I know are very obsessed with their image. The girl has really long hair, she's even known for it. But the guy has always been very attention craving. He is very sweet deep down and romantic. But also kind of toxic, I feel like he's an unevolved leo moon. Hopefully I'll get to know more leo moons, they seem so warm and welcoming!

Virgo moon

My girl bestfriend has this placement. We both love talking about kind of everything (mercurial moons) wether it be books, gossip, personal stuff... She gets stomach issues when stressed. She loves animals, she has a very deep bond to her pet dog. She lives vegan and loves minimalistic interior design. She always cared for her younger siblings, cooking for them, sometimes even taking the role of a caretaker (she's a cancer sun). We haven't been very much in touch lately, but I still cherish her a lot! She helped me getting through many things and I can count on her to always be honest with me. I have also shared a flat with two other virgo moons, the one was absolutely crazy about houseplants, she had like 30 in her room. She was very nice and gentle, but a little too naggy for me. The other one is my soulsister, we always grabbed food or cooked together which was very fun!!

Libra moon

Sadly, I didn't have the best experience with this placement. A friend in school had this, and she just was very passive aggressive. She wasn't romantic or warm, she was rather cold and aloof. When I started dating my boyfriend, she got so jealous and accused me of never having time for her. We never really hung out anyways, but that's when she started getting toxic. Her mother was very strict so she also became like that. She was also the one person that always complained about the exams but in the end she always had A's. We lost touch after school and I'm very glad about it. I know that she was probably an unevolved libra moon, so I hope I'll get to know the nice, gentle and loving ones! 🌚

Scorpio moon

I lived with one for about 4 months. She was very shy, but she was willing to open up. When you criticised her, she felt completely offended and never really talked to me ever again. She moved out very soon and my other flat mates and I weren't so sad about it. She never talked to us, she didn't even get out of her room after this one incident, where we criticised her for never coming out of her room. We were 4 girls sharing a big flat, 3 of us were always going out and having fun together, she never even read our text messages so we just assumed she didn't want to be involved with us. She just seemed very cold. In the end she blamed us for being cold, even though we invited her out for like a 100 times. We were even a little scared of her, she just seemed so unfriendly. I have never heard of her every since and I'm not mad about it.

Sagittarius moon

I know some people with this placement. Actually many of them are studying to become a lawyer and they're pretty good at it. One of them is becoming a police officer the other wants to be a politician. They cherish their own opinion a lot, they love living life as they want to. They are down for partying every weekend, I also saw a connection with drinking too much... Sometimes the girls are "not like other girls" because of their love for danger and adventure. One of them always felt the need to rub under my nose how much she liked to perform sports and whatever. They are very sporty though. But I sometimes get the feeling they take themselves too seriously. Not my favorite moon placement, but they're alright. They can be a little braggy and their political views can be a little extreme. A love for animals and justice.

Capricorn moon

Sorry, but no. 🧡 They treat everything as a transaction, if they're giving you something, you automatically owe them. They can be funny though and really nice. They are very ambitious. I noticed they do have a problem with feelings, and if they're getting involved with you, it is for the long run. On the other hand, if you don't seem like the one, they will just leave you hanging around until they find a better option. Maybe that's just my experience. I feel like their childhood was very strict, they had to look after themselves and their parents weren't very supportive of them. Might have a narcissistic mom.

Aquarius moon

That's another placement that was my flatmate. She also had a very rough childhood. Her father wasn't even involved, her mother always favoured her brothers over her. It was really hard getting to know her and even though i had loved to stay in touch with her, I haven't heard of her after moving out, which is kinda sad. She was very emotionally codependent on her boyfriend, so there wasn't really space for any other relationship in her life. I just hope she's happy now. :) The other aqua moon I know studies the same subject at university like me. We get along very well, but we're not best friends. She also seems a little distant, she lives in her own world and has her own circle of friends. But she's very nice and very human(?) I love talking to her, it just makes me feel great! 🧡

Pisces moon

This one is a little tricky. My boyfriend has this placement, and he's the most gentle, kind, supportive, understanding and loving person I know. Pisces moons can be the most creative, selfless and caring people in the world. On the other hand, my bully in high school had this placement 💀 She always used me for homework and talked sh*t about me behind my back. I feel like pisces is a placement in general, that really needs to learn how to deal with their gentle and sensitive nature. It seems like many of them try to mask their feelings by being mean/ dominant/aggressive. But it's no weakness to show emotions! 🧡 Because of my boyfriend, it's probably my favorite moon sign! 🧡

That would be it! Hope you liked it!

If you can't resonate, please know that these are my personal experiences with the moon signs. Every moon sign has an evolved and unevolved part. I feel like I met a lot of unevolved ones. Sadly.

Anyways, see you soon, love you. Byee🧡

[traineecryptid]

NPSS Weibo Q&A (20240831) Part 1

This is a Q&A session held on Weibo. People will tag their questions with the hashtag #南派三叔藏海花在线答疑# (#NPSS Zang Hai Hua Online Q&A#) and NPSS will look through the tag to pick some to answer. The event started at 1500 hours on 2024 August 31st. For comedic purposes, this translation will include the timestamps for the answers. And for efficiency purposes, I have left out all usernames. The usernames of the question-askers can be found via the screenshots in this folder if anyone is inclined to do that.

1422 Come ask questions at #NPSS Zang Hai Hua Online Q&A#. I will stay online and pick questions to answer without limits from 3pm onward. 1500 Q: Sanshu, what was the thing that Zhang Qiling wanted Pangzi to tell Wu Xie that Pangzi mentioned when he was fixing Wu Xie’s dislocated shoulder? My friends and I would love to know. 

A: Eat well, sleep well, wear socks even in the summer. 1500 Q: Lei, do you like this pic I made? [It’s an edit of NPSS’s face on a pink dressed magical girl body]

A: I feel like this pic is affecting the fengshui in my house.

1502 Q: Shu, it is confirmed that Ten Years is included in the ZHH drama. Then, will the drama show the changes between ZHH Wu Xie and Ten Years Wu Xie? In yesterday’s livestream you said that there are four turning points in the drama. Is it that Wu Xie will become Xie Di after being tricked four times? A: Every character and their fate all have big turning points. Whether he’s a good person or an evil person, whether his answers are real or fake, you must watch till the end [only then you’ll know].

1502 Q: Sanshu, what was Wu Xie thinking in the split second when he saw Menyouping’s portrait in Tibet? A: “What the fuck!” (T/N: swears are not very translatable in meaning. I tried.) 1503

Q: Pumpkin Sect (T/N: this might be an intentional typo punning of nanpai which means southern sect), what would the scene be like if Xiaoge’s mom met Wu Xie? Would Bai Ma be happy that her child had gained some humanity because of Wu Xie? A: Bai Ma would probably teach Wu Xie to sing. Something like The Night of Ulaanbaatar.

1505 Q: Shu, why have you been answering so many questions lately? Has there been some big thing happening?

A: They said that I’m a liuliang celebrity so I should shoulder the publicity mission. (T/N: Liuliang celebrity refers to celebrities who are popular (or controversial) and are able to generate a lot of social media traffic. For example: when a celeb would get on the trending searches whenever they post selfies/ attend events/ do just about anything.)

1513 Q: What would Mo Yungao from Southern Archives do if he had really found Xiaoge? A: He would eat Zhang Qiling.

1523 Q: Is the audience viewing experience taken into deep consideration when making drama and movie adaptations? For example, allowing those who haven't read the novels to understand the plot. I saw some people saying that they couldn’t follow the plot [from the drama].

A: For Reboot, in order to help the audience get into it, we introduced the characters and their occupation in the first episode. But for ZHH,  according to the number of votes, we all chose to do a cold open based on the novel. 

1524 Q: Sanshu, Sanshu, I want to know, based on Zhang Qiling’s arm strength, how many Wu Xies can he carry?

A: If he uses the strength from his waist to assist, he can throw Wu Xie up to the third floor.

1526 Q: What is the ending for Boss Jiao in the Reboot novel?

A: Became Jiao. (T/N: The character for Jiao means burnt).

1527 Q: Will Xu Zhenxuan play Wu Xie in the Heavenly Palace re-shoot?

A: Yes.

1528

Q: Shu, did Zhang Haike recommend Xiaoge’s drink to Wu Xie because he wants to show off that he understands Xiaoge? A: Hahahahaha

1532 Q: ZHH drama and novel will have two separate endings. Now that the drama has an ending, have you decided on the ending of the novel? When will you experience Tianshou? A: I always understood the dramas as the dreams of the characters from the books. That means that the changes in details in the dramas, to me, I would always explain it as the intentional and unintentional amendment to the details as they tell this story to someone else. Or that these are part of their dream and after-the-fact fears. I will explain it again after [you] see the end.

1533

Q: I would like to know the mental state of the company. It seems like it’s taking big steps towards a beautiful direction.

A: It’s rare to be able to legally go crazy. Everyone’s very happy.

Here's the first 15. There are more answers and I will chip at them at a pace that will hopefully be able to keep up with NPSS. The folder also contains a google doc that has all the complied Q&As if anyone prefers to read on that.

[vivelareine]

hello! i agree with your post about MA being blamed for her husband's actions broadly, but do you have a source for her being the one who suggested a more reasonable carriage for their attempted escape? not that i doubt you or anything but i would like to know more since i have heard many conflicting things about this detail. thank you :)

Oh I should clarify, Marie Antoinette didn't come up with the idea of smaller carriages for the flight--but there's no reason to think she disagreed with the suggestions when you read the related Fersen correspondence. As it was Louis who decided to reject the proposals (which came from Bouille, Breteuil and Fersen) which may have... may have... resulted in the family not being captured.

(I say may have because this was almost a "Titanic" situation in which everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong, and it wasn't necessarily anyone or any particular choice's "fault." But people love to blame Marie Antoinette for Varennes, usually claiming she wanted to have a big vain carriage or she refused to part from her perfumes or she was a dumb woman who didn't realize they shouldn't all travel together etc etc.)

The initial proposals (I believe direct from Fersen & Bouille, not sure offhand about Breteuil) was for multiple common carriages--which would require the family to be split up--whereas the king wanted one large carriage that would mean the family (and Tourzel) would be together, and would not need to stop for various necessities.

Sometimes Tourzel is blamed for this, the idea being that the reason for the larger carriage was because she refused to part from Louis Charles, but I haven't found any letters which suggest it was Tourzel who was the deciding factor here. NVM I remembered it was Bouille who blamed her initially; Bouille said in his memoir the reason why the king didn't have a military man in the carriage is because Tourzel refused to not go with the family. But this was not brought up at all in the actual 1791 correspondence, it's something Bouille claimed much later.

And in any case, Louis was the king, he could have easily told Tourzel that she must be in a separate carriage... and would a 5 person carriage really be all that smaller than a 6 person one?

Edit: To add, the Tourzel variation of why the carriage was so big is fascinating because Madame de Tourzel's version of events is that Marie Antoinette said she (Tourzel) would be too ill to make the journey and must leave the Tuileries before the flight.

Tourzel basically told Marie Antoinette that she was willing to die for the family and her charges, and that if she were a man Marie Antoinette would not have said she must stay behind, and that if she left the palace everyone would know about their plans because she had publicly said that "death along could make me abandon the dauphin," and that if she thought for a moment she was hampering the flight, she would of course stay behind/not go with them, but that she would otherwise wish to go and serve her country.

But this gets turned into "Tourzel wept to the king about it and he gave into a woman's tears."

Anyway--

Bouille and Fersen also proposed that the king have able military men with them for safety and to take charge; this was also rejected. Louis initially wanted M. de Bombelles with him but rejected it due to political implications. It was not until very late that this was rejected, a lot of the flight to Montmedy plans had to be rearranged and put off for many reasons. One being that one of the dauphin's attendants was a "strong democrat" who would have jeopardized the plan if she was there,and they were waiting for be away from the palace.

Although the book itself is not one I recommend for reasons anyone who reads my blog will already know, Farr's "I Love You Madly" has a good amount of the Fersen/Bouille/etc letters leading up to the flight which provide a decent look at Louis' choices in regards to rejecting the more, IMO, sensible proposals that were offered to him.

So to clarify my lil rant, it's not so much that Marie Antoinette came up with the smaller and multiple carriages, than it is that she was not the one who rejected it and she had no objections to it that we know about--it was Louis who ultimately rejected the idea.

[firefly--bright]

jean kirstein modern headcanons!!!

warnings : none! gender neutral pronouns used, if any.

a/n: HI HELLO I'm so so SO sorry for the late fics. my finals ended like a month ago and oh my god I've just been Going Places™ like my schedule is jam packed with meeting up with people i haven't seen in three months because of the exams :/ I'm working on the requests!!! i promise, i read them and i am working on them. but!!! here are some headacanons to.... make up for the lack of content :3

taglist : @mrsnobodynobody , @holding-ishu-and-a-book

✿ masterlist is in linked in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist ✿

• he doesnt have a big sweet tooth but he LOVES chocolate like can't live without it. if you're also a chocolate person, he'll buy your fav ones for you and lowkey judges you for it ("why would you like this one???? the one i like is wayyy better you should get those")

• he's most definitely a friend's to lovers type guy. he never really thought he would be, though. he's a hopeless romantic and falls in love with anyone and everyone BUT he's also, as mentioned before, more hopeless than romantic. he'll yearn for the person from a distance, so he doesn't really think that he would go and fall in love with his best friend, of all people. you fall first he falls harder type beat yk?

• he's kind of gives off this confident, cocky and kind of intimidating vibe about him. when you first met him you just knew he thought a little too highly of himself. but after getting to know him, he's super vulnerable and soft and actually tries to be close to you. his intimidating Mr. i-fold-my-arms-over-my-chest-to-show-off-my-biceps persona is just a front, like he thinks being that coccky guy will make people think he's like mysterious or something and want to be his friend/partner

• i have a bi jean agenda actually

• thinks VERY highly of you. asks for your advice on everything even if you might not be good at giving it, hed want to know what you, specifically, think

• he's an architecture major :D i know alot of people have diff headcanons of him doing pol-sci/law (which are all valid tbh i agree with those hcs) but!!! i think he chose architecture because he has the right amount of passion for it. it's the closest thing to art he can have. he loves art but he's also aware that it doesn't...pay well, neither does he want to loose his passion for art. hes heard one too many stories of people choosing art and regretting it because their passion for art is no longer just a passion. Jean's scared he'd lose his love for it.

• isn't really used to physical touch, and if you're a touchy feely person, he's a little surprised when you hold him for the first time. he quickly grows into loving your touch tho and initiates cuddles :)

• hes kinda super smart. like he scores really well in class and always has. not only that, but he's gifted athletically as well

• he's more of a listener than a talker, i think. hed initiate conversation, ask you about you day and let you take away the conversation. doesn't really mind if it's "all about you", but if you ask him about anything, he'd gladly talk.

• hes actually SO shy when it comes to actually doing relationshippy things. the first time you held hands as a couple and not just friends, he had a nervous breakdown. he couldn't even look you in the eyes when he asked you out on a date, even if it was just a casual movie night at home

• he's very organized, surprisingly. he's not a clean freak but he just likes knowing where things are. rarely rearranges anything because it not only frustrates the hell out of him, he'd also have to get used to the new arrangements.

• he has a fixed skincare routine!!! he had acne as a teenager so he started taking skincare more seriously. knows a lot about different products, and if you don't have a fixed skincare routine, he'd tell you to have one. if you have super sensetive skin (like me) and can't handle anytjing other than basic face wash, he'd remind you to wash your face every night.

• he also is protective of his hair!!! he used to have dyed hair, but it didn't go well. he TRIED to bleach his hair but failed and half of his hair came out :')) he never dyes his hair anymore but he does freshen up his mullet every now and then. doesn't let anyone but his mom and you touch his hair.

• asks you if you can help him with oiling his hair because he saw one of those tiktoks saying they work really well. if you're anything like me and are used to oiling your hair every week, you'd massage his hair and his eyes close and his entire body relaxes the moment your hands weave through his hair <3

• LOVES showing you off. either in little ways (by swinging your hands together while walking) or by literally making his entire Instagram page about you. all of his six posts (he rarely posts, but whenever he does it's all about you) have you in them. the cheesiest captions, too. if that wasn't enough, he'd have (y/n)'s with your fav colour heart emoji next to your name in his bio to let literally everyone know who he's with.

• he actually loves to cook!!!! as said before, he'd very organized, so i feel like he'd also be into meal prepping. he watched those aesthetically pleasing videos of people rearranging their fridges with ungodly amounts of plastic cabinets. his own fridge is sort of a mess becahse he doesn't know what goes where :') but he does meal prep, and sometimes even packs you lunches with lil notes

• speaking of notes, he's not really good at talking about his love for you. like he'd show it in so many ways but he can't say it out loud. not only does he get uncharacteristically shy, he's always had issues with saying the words "i love you" out loud, so he either writes about it or draws you <3 you'd find random notes and letters written to you, sometimes with just. a cheesy joke, sometimes he actually Tries and writes a whole letter for you pouring out all the things he can't say out loud.

• the start of your friendship, you two bicker alot. it's clear you care about each other, but he loves teasing you because he knows you'll shoot back.

• he wears really thin eyeliner on special occasions <3 he doesn't like bold looks, but he does like how subtly the eyeliner makes his eyes look different. if yiure good at makeup, he'd ask you to help him.

• has a plethora of diff hats tbh like he collects them like an addiction. he has a fedora and beanies and bucket hats and normal embroidered hats. he has so many it's concerning

• he's very good at driving. when the two of you started getting closer, he'd ask you on long late night drives, either for take-out or just to listen to music and talk. he enjoys your company while driving. if you usually have motion sickness in cars, you will never feel nauseous in his car. he drives very smoothly, not too fast and not too slow. he's kind of a perfectionist (not extremely) and literally screams at Connie to slow down when he goes even a little over the speed limit. he drives the whole time in every road trip.

• his fav dessert is cheesecake. his unpopular opinion is that they're the perfect ratio of sweet and savoury, crunchy and soft.

• hes one of those people to fall asleep anywhere and everywhere. on the couch, at the table, no matter how loud it is or how bright it is. he's a light sleeper and also a snorer. if you're cuddling together, he'd either lay on top of you or wraps not one but both of his arms around you. one under your neck to provide a nice neck cushion, and one draped over your stomach.

• he runs warm, which is both a blessing and a cruse. in summers, even if he'd want to cuddle with you, you feel the need to get as far away as him because he's just so warm. you'd wake up in your own sweat if you do decide to take the risk and let him cuddle you. in winters though, his warmth is very welcome.

• loves it when you hug his arm while walking. if you're tired and kind of lean into him, expect him to eat that shit UP because he loves your warmth as much as you love his. loves it when you lean into him or hug his bicep. even flexes his muscles for effect (you definitely tease him for that)

• is not a fan of thunderstorms, he kind of has bad memories. either from being left out while the ither kids play in the rain, either from the rumbling and the scary sound that comes with thunders that resembles the sound of his angry father or its just how inconvenient it is.

• his dad wasn't really in his life that much, always away on business. every time he would come home, he'd srot of criticize jean's hobbies :( his mom eventually seperated from Jean's father and started her own bakery, hence Jean's love for chocolates.

• he panics very hard when you feel sick. he jumps right into his mama bird genes and makes you a soup from either his mother's recipie or he'd call your mother and ask her for her own sick day recipies. he'd feed it to you and refuse to leave you alone until you've had your meds.

• he loves kissing your forearm for some reason. you loop your hands around his neck after kissing him, so it's the closest to his mouth. he turns his head slightly, closing his eyes as he pecks your forearm :3 it's kinda a weird spot to like kissing, but it's really endearing when it comes from him.

• he has a couple small tattoos here and there. two of the five he has have actual meaning whereas the other three are just for fun

• he wants whatever you want. if you want children in the future, he'd be there with you. if you want nothing but a large house and a couple pets, he'd love to make your dream come true. he's passionate and extremely good at what he does, and he takes pride in it.

✿

[late-to-the-party-81]

Answer the questions and tag five fanfiction authors you know!

Thank you @metalbvcky. NPT for @mrs-illyrian-baby @doasyoudesireandlive @km-ffluv @labella420

🍓 How did you get into writing fanfiction?

As a teen I was a voracious reader and tried to write my own stuff based on other books I'd read. I also loved ST:TNG and wanted dearly to be in an episode and had lots of the books. I wrote my own ST stories with OC's (gratuitous self inserts), but they never went anywhere. In my late teens I read some Xena fanfic on the internet. But that was it for a great number of years.

At the beginning of 2021 I sat and watched the entirety of the MCU films in chronological order (I'd seen most of them before and was mainly a Thor gal.) I fell down the Stucky rabbithole. Deep. I decided to look up fanfic. AO3 was now a thing! I wrote (a very poor) Stucky fic and here we are, almost 3 years later

🍇How many fandoms have you written in?

As my ST stuff never made it further than my parent's old PC in the days of dial-up, I won't count it.

I've written for MCU, various Chris Evans and Seb Stan Characters and one fic for RWRB. I've been toying with writing a one-off Criminal Minds fic as a gift for a friend.

🍈How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Three in July since I first published anything on AO3.

🍎Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I try to balance it out. If I have a period of hyperfocus writing I try to then go through a period of reading. I read on both Tumblr and AO3, so try to keep that even as well.

🍌What is one way you've improved as a writer?

Getting betas to pick me up on tense changes, overuse of words and rogue commas. Reading more. Practising. Writing outlines for longer stories so I don't go off-piste.

🍑Do you have any bad habits as a writer?

Getting bored half-way through a long fic, especially if the first few parts haven't had a lot of interaction. Which is why I try to write the whole thing before I start posting.

🍍 What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Engineering courses at MIT and, for a separate fic, Violet wands, including the ways to use them and the differnt types of accessories you can use with them. I even watched a Youtube video.

🍉What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Any comment! Anything that gives me the validation I need!

🍐What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

I wrote a transformation into Tsum-tsum fic that was both cracky and smutty. That's pretty niche.

🥭What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Action scenes. I loathe them. I'm constantly wondering if they are long enough, and make sense.

🍏What is the easiest type?

Short things that are either PWP or fluffy slices of life.

🍑Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

Mainly on my elderly laptop on G-Docs, and in every moment I can - normally afterwork before dinner and on Mondays when I don't have work.

🍋What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

There are a few characters and ships I haven't written that I'd like to. And I suppose I'd like to write a proper long, over 100k fic at some point.

🍇 what made you choose your username?

When I made my AO3 account I felt as though that at 40, and only really starting in Fandom in this way, I was late to the party, so that is who I became.

[the-silver-sparrow]

A personal review on Calypso's character

I've seen a lot of people with very mixed takes on Calypso's character, ranging from calling her horrible to calling her "not as bad as you think"

I think there's a way to adopt both of those views.

DISCLAIMER: I will NOT be taking the original Odyssey into account because 1: I haven't read it, 2: This is a review on Calypso from the musical alone, and 3: Jay has said many times before that the musical isn't supposed to be exactly like the books, so, I wanted to keep it separated.

Without further ado I gotta YAP

An argument I see used many times to demonize Calypso's character, is the comparison to her book version, when they say "she sexually assaulted him." However, EPIC's Calypso, as far as the lyrics go, wasn't exactly implied to have "done anything" to Ody (I'll get to that in a minnie), I say this because, if Jay had really wanted to emphasize or even imply that at all, he would've. Take it from one of Antinuous' lines, "why don't you open her room so we can have fun with her?" (Plus another line of his in the Ithaca saga, but that's spoilers, iykyk), here we see that Jay wanted it to be ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that Antinuous is a horrible, horrible man

And yes, I know there's the "Soon into bed we'll climb and spend our time" line, BUT, that feels more like wishful thinking from her delusion than a proper threat like Antinuous' line was. Whether or not it implies she tried anything with Ody is, lyrically, REALLY up in the air.

All we got from Ody's time in Calypso's island is that he was trapped there for a whole 7 years, possibly being babied by her and not getting any moment of peace away from her clingy ass. This is further reinforced by the scene by the end of Love In Paradise, not once does Ody seem to hold any kind of hatred or resentment towards Calypso specifically, he's STILL just reminiscing on the people who died because of him. The way he talks to her, "you don't know what I've gone through, you don't know what I've sacrificed", the way he kinda snaps at her feels more like he's *scolding* her for being so immature and obsessed about him (and she is).

All that being said... her behavior isn't unprompted at all. OBVIOUSLY she's not gonna understand basic human decency. Not only is she a goddess - which is already as "not human" as you can get, further disconnecting her from Ody's struggles and feelings- She's been trapped in that island, without any kind of contact with other people, for 100 YEARS. She was a CHILD when she was first sent and trapped there, like she said, it's all she's ever known.

Now, obviously, that doesn't excuse her behavior. I'm not saying she's a saint; She kept Ody as her prisoner for 7 years, was probably always trying to earn his love and replace his wife, which must've been EXHAUSTING to Ody. Yes, she's still abusive (even if she probably doesn't fully realize it). Yes, she's weird as fuck. Yes, she's CRAZY.

While I'm not excusing her actions, it kind of feels unfair to expect her to know any better when she had nobody to teach her to begin with. Not even Odysseus. 100 years is 100 years too late to learn to be decent. No, she's not innocent, but she's not the devil incarnate either (AGAIN. IN THE MUSICAL).

The way I interpret "Not Sorry For Loving You" is not that she necessarily loved him... I feel like she was more in love with the IDEA of being in love. She finally had some company and thought it would just play out like a fairytale from here on out. You expect me to believe this abandonment issues-coated deity can at all grasp the concept of genuine love? It's not genuine. She's delusional. But that's no thanks to her isolation.

Her emotions, her sorrow, her anguish are genuine, but her love is not. And Not Sorry For Loving You does an AMAZING job at showcasing all of that.

Speaking of... I really don't agree with people saying NSFLY was "trying to paint her in a nicer light" or "a bad apology" or anything along those lines, NSFLY does not read like an apology at all. That's the whole POINT of the chorus. It's a lament. It's Calypso still living in the delusion that she loves Ody and lamenting that Ody could never reciprocate and/or entertain the fantasy. It's SUPPOSED to be emotional and sad, because she IS sad. She's DEVASTATED, even when she doesn't realize how much she's been hurting Ody up to this point.

Anyway... I just wanted to share my two cents because I can tell she's a very controversial character just in general. But in EPIC, I personally just feel sadness/pity for her. Though, I think her being such a complex character makes her one of my favorites. Her song is so emotionally charged (and god Wangui's voice is ANGELIC. WHAT THE FUCK.) it makes me want to tear up every time I listen to it. Every single time.

I could've said a little more but I'm late to class now </3

TL;DR: Calypso is weird as fuck but you know what I kinda like her for it

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Nocturnal ballads [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

if you have never heard Etta James please do, her songs are beautiful. It is mentioned in this fic: At Last, All I Could Do Was Cry and Stormy Weather. Enjoy! <3

It was Sunday night, and the rainy air blew softly in the window of your shared apartment. You'd made coffee and drank your own cup while Spencer had barely touched his, which was somewhere among the notes, books, and case folders scattered across the expanse of his desk. For hours he intended to write a new article for a magazine that had requested it, but the task was getting more complicated than expected. With the passing of the months with him you had gotten used to him spending a lot of time studying in silence, reading, or just sitting on the couch too busy with his own thoughts, but this time it seemed to be something different. He didn't look comfortable with the task, the frown on his pretty face had never left him and the pen that was supposed to be used to write the words on his notebook was spent most of the time between his teeth.

It wasn't just a matter of that day, but lately he seemed to be more stressed than usual and a little more scattered. You didn't want to be invading his personal space or pressure him to talk to you because things had never worked out that way, however, that didn't free you from worrying about his condition.

When you finally got fed up with seeing him in that state you got up from your spot on the window sill and set your mug down on the bookshelf before cautiously approaching him. His hunched position on the chair was something that you had tried to get him to correct many times, nevertheless, it was almost natural for you to see him like this.

“Hey,” Spencer squealed, as he felt your arms wrap around his chest from behind, as if he'd barely remembered that you existed in the same space as him. Your head rested on his shoulder, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you on the cheek.

"Why don't you rest for a while, my love?" you asked kindly, close to his ear, as you turned your head to get a better look at him and moved your hands up and down his disheveled shirt. Spencer sighed at the warmth of your body against his and tilted his head back until it nestled against yours.

"I would like to, but I have to finish this today because I'm probably busy with a case tomorrow and I honestly feel like I haven't made any progress."

“It is because you are very tense. You won't be able to write anything if you're stressed” you assured him. You separated from him and your boyfriend complained about it, following you with his gaze towards the record player installed next to the bookcase.

The device was one of the objects that he brought from his own apartment and little by little you had helped him expand the collection that you jealously kept in the compartment under the furniture that you had bought. There was everything from old or classical music that he liked to some of the pop artists of the moment.

"What are you going to do?"

"You'll see" you smiled, squatting down to look for a particular record. When you got it out of his cover you placed it against the needle and manually fast-forwarded a couple of songs, not even noticing which one was playing "Come on, get up."

"What?"

"Get up" you repeated to your boyfriend, who had been carefully watching all your movements from his place "Let's dance"

"You're not talking seriously"

"Yes I do, very seriously," you said firmly, as you reached over to take his hand "Up"

"But I don't know how to do it!" he complained between laughs, while you maneuvered to get him out of the chair.

"I don't care, I just want you to dance with me" you insisted, pulling him towards you with a force that he didn't resist. Although he didn't seem very enthusiastic about the idea, he had never been able to deny you anything, so you dragged him to the center of the room and placed his hands on your waist, while you wrapped yours around his shoulders.

Spencer smiled and shook his head, incredulous that you'd take him out of his weekend chores to do that, and you started swaying back and forth to the music. You had placed the record At Last! From Etta James (one from Spencer's collection) and suddenly the title track filled the air.

At last

My love has come along…

“I love this song” he hummed, hearing the initial notes, closing his eyes with pleasure and a smile lighting up his face “Did you know that Etta won six Grammys in her career? Besides, she…”

“Spence” you cut it off right away. You hated doing it, but right now you didn't need that marvelous brain spouting facts about '60s blues “Don't think. Just relax"

Saying this, you took advantage of the position of your hands to caress the extension of his neck and shoulders, as if you wanted to remind him that he should release the accumulated tension in that area instead of getting more. You knew that asking him to stop thinking was like asking him to stop breathing, but for once he would have to try.

He wasn't offended by your request, but inhaled deeply and closed his eyes again to enjoy your hands walking over his body, thinking meanwhile that maybe you were right and his mind needed a well-deserved rest.

“That's it,” you praised softly, continuing your work and watching him relax as you rocked back and forth, “Just listen to the music, let yourself go…”

Little by little the man's body felt lighter and lighter, until it was enough to pull him a little towards you and he basically dropped all his weight on your body. His head had been hidden in the crook of your neck and his arms were now completely encircling you, as if he wanted to hold you as close as possible.

"You are a dream," he said, following the song, his voice drowned out by the series of soft kisses he began to leave on your bare skin.

It was obvious that he was tired and that little dance scene had only been the perfect excuse for him to finally allow himself to be aware of how physically the effort made during the day was hurting him.

“And you can call me your own,” you whispered with a smile, proud of your own witty follow-up to lyrics you'd only heard once or twice.

Your hand moved up to his head and as you began to caress his scalp you felt the man melt, if he could melt more, against you.

You guys didn't say anything for the rest of the song, but the romantic lyrics took care of conveying any sentiment. Spencer thought he could fall asleep right there, with the gentle rhythm of your bodies dancing as reason enough to lull him to sleep.

All I could do was cry, it didn't have particularly romantic lyrics, but being a slow song, you guys were able to keep rocking. Tenderly you pulled your man apart a bit and although his dismayed face made you feel guilty the laugh that replaced it when you gave him an exaggerated turn on his spot was enough to make you feel better. It was obvious that there was a considerable difference in height between you, so for said turn he had to crouch down a little, but when he recovered his normal position he pressed you against him, palms firmly planted on your lower back and now facing you.

"It's so sad"

"What, pretty?"

"The song," he whispered, a pout forming on his lips. Although you laughed, you agreed with him that it was indeed a very unfortunate ballad.

You guys danced throughout the tune and although Stormy Weather didn't represent a more positive outlook in terms of lyrics, this didn't stop you from staying in your perfect bubble of love.

Spencer was watching you from above with a completely entranced smile and you, from below, were looking at him with the most loving sparkle shining in your eyes. You loved him with everything he stood for and wished with all your might that you could do something to make him realize that he needed to take better care of himself and sometimes allow himself to steal these little moments from life to keep them in the heart.

"How do you feel now?" you suddenly asked. It was enough to see his face to realize the answer, but you wanted to hear it coming from him.

"I don't even remember what I was doing before this" he confessed to you, with a shy smile that made you smile too "I don't even know what I was doing before you. How was it that I could live so many years like this? Without the most perfect woman of all who came to rescue me from my own filth" 

"Oh, come on," you laughed, a blush already spreading across your cheeks at the compliment "It wasn't a big deal, sometimes it just takes a little attitude to lift the mood.”

"I love you like you can't imagine, have I ever told you before?" he continued, ignoring your attempts to look modest. "And I'm sorry I'm so bitter sometimes."

“You're not” you assured him, taking his face in your hands “Oh well, just a little bit. But nothing I can't tolerate” you teased, hearing his melodious laughter fill your ears.

You carefully stood on your toes so you could give him a gentle and warm kiss, which Spencer responded with all the joy in the world, while he held you better to avoid any effort. When you separated you stayed close, so much so that when you spoke you did it exhaling on his lips.

“Oh, and by the way…”

"Yeah, honey?"

"I love you too" you clarified with a smile. And then you melted into another kiss.

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