#I'm sure everything will turn out okay in the end

[pomefioredove]

Okay but imagine one of the guys actually win the prefect, and they just go rubbing it on the others face by making them wear their respective form uniform.

Except Kalim, he would probably just make them have a sleepover every night and paint each other nails.

ohhh see now I'm imagining all the alternate routes this could take... okay okay I'm so here for this. like half of the cast would totally make them wear the uniform just to rub it in, the other half would just be crazy about seeing them in the dorm uniform at all. I DO have some thoughts on this concept alone... and I'll make another part later yk yk

summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms. a proper ending to this type of post: short fics characters: ace, deuce, jack, epel, riddle, ruggie, azul, jamil, kalim, vil additional info: yuu is gender neutral, ruggie is cute, azul is the cutest, vil enjoyers come get your food, maybe a little ooc for some parts

If you thought it was bad before, the news that Malleus intended to marry you made everything about twenty times more chaotic. Bids were upped to insurmountable sums, rumors were spread like the plague, fights were raging through campus as the deadline to donate approached. Even Crowley was starting to feel a little antsy, despite all of the brand new amenities he had already ordered for his office.

Finally, the day came. The announcement was held in the courtyard, where just about any student who had stakes in the matter had shirked whatever after-school responsibilities they had to gather. The prefect themselves was nowhere to be found, though only few noticed their absence.

"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.

"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.

You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"

Crowley clears his throat, pulling a thin, delicate envelope out of his coat pocket while the crowd eagerly watches on. He takes his sweet time opening it, much to everyone's utter dismay, and when he finally withdraws the contents the entire courtyard falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"And our winner is..."

First Year's Ending

"Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and Epel Felmier. Congratulations! The prefect will be ready at Ramshackle for your collection this evening. I trust you'll sort out the details..."

The four freshman look between each other, a mix of awe and shock on each of their faces.

Everyone else is staring daggers at them.

Vil is the first to speak. "How?"

"We may or may not have sweetened the deal with a few exclusive bonuses," Ace snickers, crossing his arms. Vil rolls his eyes. Deuce sighs.

"We'll be Crowley's new slaves for months after this..."

Jack grumbles from the back of the four. "Well, it was worth it. Imagine if someone underhanded and dishonest had won, and-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever,"

The four pause, looking between each other in silence. Then, finally:

"So who will they be staying with?" Epel asks, catching Vil's attention again.

"Excellent question, Epel," the housewarden smiles, stepping back into the conversation. "We would be more than willing to accommodate the prefect at Pomefiore. Our dorm far outshines the others."

Leona growls. "I heard that. Besides, why should you be first in line? We've already housed them before, they were plenty comfortable then,"

"As I recall, you forced them into servitude as penance for staying," Riddle snaps. "Not exactly the friendliest host. I think they would be much more comfortable at Heartslabyul."

The four freshman can only watch in silence as the housewardens break out into bickering with one another about who's dorm is best.

"Soooo..." Ace starts. "Maybe we should rotate?"

Deuce sighs. "For once, you actually have a good idea,"

Riddle's Ending

"Riddle Rosehearts, congratulations! I'll alert the prefect at once," Crowley says, immediately turning and disappearing into the crowd before anything can get ugly.

It doesn't exactly come across as a surprise to anyone- Riddle closely calculated his spendings, taking into consideration Leona's overconfidence, Malleus' stranger proposal, and Kalim's over-enthusiasm.

Of course, with some additional prodding about how no other dorm is responsible enough to handle another person like Heartslabyul, Crowley finally gave in.

And now, you're sat in front of the dorm's rose gardens, suitcase in tow as you make no apparent effort to walk in.

"Thought I'd find you out here," Trey says, taking a seat in the grass next to you. "Feeling okay?"

"Nervous," you admit.

Trey chuckles, much to your annoyance. "I promise there's really nothing to be nervous about. Riddle is really quite happy you're here,"

You find that a bit surprising, though you suppose it's hard to tell when he's excited. He always has this impression of deep psychological stress on him that makes him difficult to read.

"Is he?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been running Ace and Deuce ragged getting ready. He really wants to impress you," Trey pauses with a small smile. "You'll get used to the order of things here in no time. And if you ever need any help, you've got me, Cater, Ace, Deuce... I'm sure even Riddle will take it easy on you."

You smile in return. "Thanks, I-"

"Prefect!" Riddle storms out of the front doors, looking rather well-dressed for a simple Tuesday afternoon. "You were expected four minutes ago! I've taken the liberty of finding your measurements, so your dorm uniform is already ready and inside!"

Yeah. Excited, right. You give Trey a little look (to which he only waves merrily) and start off behind the housewarden.

For a moment, as you follow him, you could swear you catch him humming and smiling. But before you can say anything about it he catches Ace messing with your dorm uniform and starts shouting.

Ruggie's Ending

"And the winner is... no... this can't be right..."

Crowley clutches the paper, bringing it close to his face. He clicks his tongue, murmuring to himself.

"Um... Ruggie Bucchi, everyone!"

The news sends a shockwave through the audience, and everyone turns to the sophomore at the back of the courtyard. The sudden shift in energy is enough to make him drop his sandwich.

"Damn it..." he grumbles, picking it off the ground and swiping the dirt off of it with his sleeve. "Still good, eh?"

"Are you deaf?" Leona glares. "You're just embarrassing yourself now, and me by association."

Ruggie raises an eyebrow. "What? Oh, the lottery-thingy? I'm pretty sure Crowley misread that. He's going senile, y'know,"

Crowley crosses his arms, begrudginly handing off the paper to Azul in the front. He adjusts his glasses.

"It says Ruggie Bucchi,"

"Then someone mistyped it! I'm telling 'ya, there's no way I managed to scrounge up enough before the deadline. I was digging between couch cushions by the end of it,"

Leona looks as if he's about to smack him upside the head. "Would you just get up there?"

"Geez, alright. But don't blame me when someone comes around with the right winner later," he says, trudging to the front of the crowd. "So what do I gotta do?"

"Erm... the prefect is waiting at Ramshackle. You'll collect them and return to Savanaclaw, where you'll be responsible for handling the details."

"Sure, whatever. Let's get to it, then,"

---

Even your surprise is palpable, though you suppose it could be a lot worse. Ruggie has been a pal before, helping you out at Sam's and convincing Leona to let you off the hook when you accidentally annoy him.

Though, he himself seems less than pleased as you step out of your new room in Savanaclaw, dressed in a slightly too-big uniform.

Leona smirks as if watching something amusing and claps, slowly. "Looking good. See, none of those other pompous outfits woulda looked half as nice on you. Nice work, Ruggie,"

Ruggie rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall. Leona excuses himself to find somewhere warm to nap, leaving you two to stare at each other.

"So... what's wrong?"

"Hm?"

"I mean," you say carefully. "You don't exactly seem excited about winning."

"Oh," Ruggie shrugs. "That's cause I didn't. Guys like me don't win anything. I'm sure someone will come to give you away to the right winner tomorrow."

The thought doesn't sit well with you- you're already here, after all, and Grim is gorging himself in the lounge, and you really-kinda-don't-mind Ruggie winning.

"Well, I hope not,"

He raises an eyebrow. "You know I can hardly afford to take care of myself, right?"

"So then we're even. Just don't make me go through all that bidding stuff again," you sigh. "Let's leave it at that."

A brief, though comfortable silence falls over the two of you, and then he grins. "Alright, then. I can live with that,"

Octotrio's Ending

"Azul Ashengrotto!"

Azul's immediate reaction is to collapse. he hadn't really realized how much stress the anticipation was causing him until suddenly his knees were buckling like he was learning to walk on land all over again.

Floyd grabs his shoulder to keep him upright and Jade joins the scattered applause.

"Don't look so pale, Azul. I'm sure this will prove to be a worthwhile investment," he says, folding his hands neatly in front of him.

A part of Azul knows that Jade isn't referring to anything financial, but he doesn't say a word about it.

"Besides," Jade goes on. "It'll be nice having another member of my club."

Both Azul and Floyd groan in unison.

---

Floyd gives you a standing ovation when you walk into the Mostro Lounge, fully dressed in the provided dorm uniform.

Azul, on the other hand, looks away entirely.

"It feels too long," you say, staring at the bottoms of your pants. You're not exactly in a place to complain, so you keep your voice meek.

"We can make the necessary adjustments," Jade says, walking into the room with a tray of tea, his all-too-knowing smile as unnerving as ever. "You look very nice, though. Wouldn't you say, Azul?"

The merman's eyes immediately turn away from Jade. "Hm?"

"Tell the prefect they look nice, Azul,"

Floyd laughs from across the room, clearly enjoying the spectacle. You tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy, not exactly sure what this banter is about. But it's not your place to pry, either.

Azul's face is beet-red. "You... look nice,"

"Thank you,"

"So are they gonna work or what? I'm tired," Floyd whines, lying on one of the couches and kicking off his shoes.

Azul grimaces. "Don't do that, that's disgusting. And I thought we should let them adjust a few days before giving them the option of working,"

"Option?" Jade's grin widens. "My, aren't you feeling generous?"

"I... assume this process has been rather jarring. I don't want any of my employees distracted or mopey. Is that right?"

You blink. "Uh... yes. This whole thing has been pretty terrible,"

Azul nods in acknowledgement as Grim tumbles in the room, wearing a brand new purple and silver-streaked bow. "Can't believe you guys had one of these 'jus lying around! I feel like a million thaumarks!"

You chuckle and scoop him into your arms. "You look very handsome. Just like Azul,"

Azul can feel his soul leaving his body and has to swiftly turn around to face the wall so you can't see him blushing. Floyd laughs.

"Oh- oh I meant the bow looks just like Azul's outfit!" you correct yourself. He pretends he didn't hear anything at all.

Jade breaks the awkward silence with a chuckle. "Ah, what fun this will be. Now, I think it's only appropriate that we give these two a proper welcome dinner. Prefect, do you care for mushrooms?"

Floyd and Azul groan in unison.

Jamil's Kalim's Ending

"Kalim al-Asim!"

Everyone could see that coming from a mile away. The disgruntled mumbles and groans of the crowd are drowned out by the cheers and claps of one sophomore, practically jumping up and down in the middle of the crowd.

"Yes! Yessss! This is going to be so much fun!"

Jamil suddenly looks exhausted.

Kalim runs to the front of the crowd, shakes Crowley's hand, steals the envelope from him, and sprints the rest of the way to Ramshackle.

Your moping is quite abruptly interrupted by a procession of loud knocks at the door, and after managing to summon your courage, you answer them.

"Wh-"

The very second the door is open, a familiar ball of energy is in your arms, squeezing you tightly.

"I wonnnn, prefect! I won!"

Your eyes widen. "You- you-"

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Out of everyone who threw their name in the hat, you couldn't get much luckier than Kalim. Financial problems? Gone. Loneliness? Blown away in the wind. Your chances of getting assassinated...? Well, let's hope Jamil is in a good mood.

Your uniforms are ready, measured to the exact inch, sitting on a set of mannequins that greet you as soon as you're inside.

Jamil is hovering behind one of them, picking at the sleeve of your school uniform for stray threads. He gives you a sideways glance, not exactly looking happy.

"My two best friends in the whole world in the same dorm!" Kalim claps. "You have to try on your dorm uniform, you'll love it! Oh, let me get you some new sheets- we have silk!"

He bounds off down the hall, leaving you alone in the lounge. The silence is thick and uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I'm outta here," Grim says, walking off in the opposite direction.

"Grim!" You whisper-shout.

"It's a preventative measure! No cracker-dry mouth for me!" and with that, he's gone.

Jamil smirks slightly, turning his attention back to sorting the uniforms. "You should get changed while you still can. I have a feeling Kalim will be attached to your side for the rest of the evening,"

You're pleasantly surprised to see how well the dorm uniform fits you, and your return to the lounge is accompanied with a little smile. The fabric is light and breezy, perfect for the dorm's usual weather- you could certainly get used to the perpetual summer.

"Fits well, I presume?" Jamil asks. "You certainly seem to be in high spirits."

"It could be worse,"

"Much worse," he agrees.

A silence falls over the two of you. Eventually, he sighs to himself, watching you out of the corner of his eyes.

"If you ever need a break from Kalim," Jamil says tentatively. "I could certainly find a way to distract him. Just so you know."

You understand the nature of his offer immediately, and though you know it's wrong, you don't exactly say no.

"...Thank you, Jamil,"

Vil's Ending

"Vil Schoenheit! Thank the sevens..."

Though he walks to Ramshackle to collect his prize with a sense of ease, Vil admits that there was a brief moment where he felt anxious about not winning.

Standing in that crowd, surrounded by royalty and nobles, his chances were higher than most but certainly not assured. The very thought of you being stuck with someone other than him was enough to send a shiver up his spine.

After all, how many people on this campus would you feel comfortable with taking your measurements? None, none but him.

"Hold still," he says for the millionth time. "I'm almost done."

Vil insisted on taking your measurements himself, and you had no qualms about that. After all, things could be worse.

"There. I'll have these sent out right away. Pomefiore has many students of your size, so it's likely we'll have a spare uniform for you. That is, until I can have one custom-made,"

"You really don't have to..."

He raises an eyebrow. "Of course I do. You're a Pomefiore student now, I expect you to present yourself like one,"

A knock at the door pulls your attention away from him, though it's Vil who answers it.

He returns to you, dorm uniform in arm.

"That was fast," you say, accepting the bundle of clothes.

"Punctuality is important. Now, get changed, I want to see what I'll have to adjust for you,"

Waiting for your return is almost as nerve-wrecking as it was waiting for Crowley to call out his name. Vil can't be sure why exactly you're making him so nervous now, but it's all he can do to keep from showing it.

The dorm uniform- which you've dawned before- is just as comfortable as you remember. Warm, but not suffocating, soft but durable.

Vil stares at you for a short while before saying anything, simply drinking in your presence.

"Come here. I need to have a look,"

You inch forward, standing in front of him as he turns around you in circle, inspecting every inch. "Well, it fits much better than your last,"

He pauses, stopping in front of you. You look down at your feet, feeling as nervous under his analytical gaze as ever.

Vil chuckles, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his eyes. "You look wonderful. I'll have to help with your confidence, though,"

Good Ending

"And our winner is... M-"

"Crowley!" a loud voice resonates from the very back of the crowd. The sound of hurried footsteps follow it as Trein and Crewel show up on scene.

"We're... we're kind of in the middle of something-"

"You are absolutely not. I cannot believe I had to find out about your little scheme from Trappola and Spade, of all pups," Crewel grimaces. "Are you well?"

"Well I- I-"

"Called it," Ruggie grins. "Totally senile."

Leona rolls his eyes. "Oi! Just read the damn paper!"

"Absolutely not. This is a highly immoral and borderline illegal offense," Trein crosses his arms. "You will all be refunded promptly. Now return to your studies!"

The crowd slowly dissipates, murmuring amongst themselves. Crowley remains in front of the well at the front of the courtyard, kicking the ground with his hands behind his back, like a child being scolded.

Both Trein and Crewel glare. "If you were having such issues with the prefect's expenses, you could have asked,"

"In what universe is giving them away to teenage boys a sound idea?" Trein grimaces. "I can overlook many of the things you do, but this is far too much."

"But-"

"That's enough," Crewel snaps his pointer against his palm. "If the prefect is causing you such troubles, we'll be glad to take them off your hands. In fact, I've already had the necessary legal papers drawn. I've always wanted a pup of my own, you know."

---

A gentle knock at the door rouses you from your melancholy and after some lengthy pestering from Grim, you finally go to answer it.

Outside is none other than Ace and Deuce, looking rather somber.

"No- don't tell me," you say. "I don't even want to hear it."

Deuce sighs. "It's not that. The whole thing got canceled,"

"No- wait, canceled?"

"Someone got caught with their hand in the cookie jar," Ace snickers, but quickly clears his throat after Deuce gives him a sharp glare. "Crowley's negotiated a different solution to the problem."

Deuce nods. "Hypothetically... how do you feel about being adopted?"

#I enjoyed writing this. thank you anon <3 #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #epel felmier x reader #jack howl x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader

[steviewashere]

Loving Who You Are, Not What You Offer

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Referenced Rape/Non-Con (Not Between Main Pairing), Panic Attack (Sort of) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Protective Eddie Munson, Patient Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Sexual Trauma, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Slight Comphet Steve Harrington, Dialogue Heavy

Okay, honestly, this one comes from a more personal place. So I'm gonna have to ask y'all to be kind about this one. I've recently come to terms that I'm somewhere on the asexual spectrum and I just needed to apply that somewhere, so. Also, writing from Eddie's point of view rather than Steve's helps me, so I don't wanna hear shit about it.

Read the content warning one more time before you continue and let me know if I missed anything <3

🩵—————🩵 There was an uncovered layer to Steve Harrington, that much Eddie has deduced.

It’s a subtle, blink and you wouldn’t notice, kind of thing. But even this uncovered layer had layers. And he’s not sure if anybody else has caught on. He was able to catalog several odd things about Steve that just…didn’t match his character. Not at all. Which has led, though it started casually and accidentally, to Eddie making a whole new doctrine.

The Odd Steve Behavior Doctrine. With a few noticeable bullet points:

-Don’t touch him without asking -Don’t ask him about his sex life -Don’t talk about sex around him, at all -He especially doesn’t like casual intimacy -Earning Steve’s trust is like climbing up a rocky mountain

He follows these rules he’s made for himself. Tries to keep himself casual and known in Steve’s presence. And hopes that it’s enough to get Steve to crack, even the slightest. Maybe he’ll say why these things bother him, Eddie initially thought.

Maybe I’ll just keep my mouth shut and let Steve come to me in his own time, he eventually noted. Because he doesn’t need to be in everybody’s business all the time, which is a typical thing for Eddie. He likes being nosy and involved with the lives of people around him. He likes to think of himself as the person his friends can come to, no matter the reason or the intensity of their need. And maybe part of it is selfish, too. He can admit that to himself. That he, in turn, wants to be everything Steve needs at the end of the day. Bearing the brunt of all that Steve has going wrong or right in his life.

Things come to Eddie little by little from Steve’s mouth. None that answer to any of the bullets in his doctrine, but things that are important, too. Like confessions, moments that Steve saw as flaws.

“I called Jonathan Byers a queer in 1983. That’s why he beat me up. I deserved it,” he told Eddie one day. Casually, complete nonchalance, as easy as discussing the weather. Steve had been cradling a mug of coffee at their local diner. Picked at the pancake platter he ordered all for himself. And, at Eddie’s coming out (“I’m gay, Steve,” Eddie admitted quietly mere moments before. He brought up love lives. Was poking around what was going on with Steve’s. And casually, he realizes, it just came up.), Steve took a sharp inhale. Confessed this bomb of a statement. Grimaced at the memory that must’ve played out behind his eyes. Then, murmured, “But thank you for trusting me with that, Eddie. I just need you to know that I was somebody you wouldn’t before. In case that…In case maybe you wanna take back that trust. Wouldn’t blame you, that’s all I’m saying.”

Eddie sat in that for a good several moments. As they slurped at their room temperature, rather mediocre mugs of Joe. “I still trust you,” he eventually said, “You don’t have to keep proving yourself to me, you know?” Steve merely shrugged. And that was confessional number one.

Following that, Steve mentioned being tortured by Russians. Which, Eddie thought that was reason for him not liking touch. It may be part of the reason, but there was something to Steve’s eyes that told him that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Eddie didn’t ask. Steve didn’t elaborate. Tortured by Russians, beat up by his peers, chewed up like a dog toy, the list in Eddie’s mind of All the Bad Things That Happened to Steve was growing longer and longer by the day. But Steve was telling him things, letting him in. It was a start.

So, Eddie had two catalogs all about Steve to keep up with in his mind. All the Bad Things and The Do’s and Don’ts of Steve Harrington.

Being his friend was an earned thing and it was a pleasant thing, but it also broke Eddie’s heart bit by bit. He’d never admit to this, but he had to realize that at some point. He wondered if Robin ever felt the same. Maybe even Nancy. But he wasn’t going to ask. Because who asks something like that? Eddie won’t be the first, but it won’t be the last somebody thinks that, he’s sure.

Even though Steve was breaking through his own mold, cracking his mask, shattering mirrors of who he was, none of it actually answered any of Eddie’s don’ts regarding him. None of it eased him. None of it lended itself in any sort of way. If anything, all of these other greater things only added to the incessant itch that couldn’t be scratched under Eddie’s skin.

Who are you really, Steve, Eddie asked himself all too much.

He doesn’t want to upset the poor guy.

But he’ll never know, he’s coming to realize. It’s just not in the cards.

———

It comes to a head, because of course it does. And he didn’t mean for it to, but it just happens.

They’re hanging out at Steve’s new-ish apartment. Lounging around on his, frankly, ugly floral second-hand couch. It’s musty and not all that soft on the cushions, lumpy and shifting. But they make do with it as they have a movie marathon. Steve is sprawled between the far right and middle cushion, Eddie is leaning against the left arm rest, legs crossed one over the other, head in his hand. Then, his stomach grumbles all too loudly in a room full of droning noise.

He leans into Steve’s space slightly. Reaches out a hand and places it on his thigh. Squeezes Steve’s leg and opens his mouth to ask if he’s hungry. But, for some reason, Steve tenses to the extremes underneath his touch. His hands grip harshly to the back of the couch and the throw pillow near his head. Legs going taut and straining against Eddie’s touch.

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly.

“Stop,” musters from Steve. It’s tiny. Cracking in half. Brings tears to his eyes immediately.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, though. “What?” He asks. “What am I doing?” There’s a thrum in his chest. Something unsettling and obtuse. It pulsates and shifts and bitters his throat the way acidic bile does.

With force Eddie’s only seen in the Upside Down, Steve latches onto Eddie’s wrist. Tight enough that Eddie has to bite back a yelp of pure and unadulterated pain. Nearly enough to break the bone that Steve’s thumb digs into. He shoves Eddie away with just his grip. Scrambles to the far corner of the couch, legs tucked in close to his chest, knees colliding with his chin. He wraps his arms around himself.

And then, the softest noise breaks through between them. It’s quiet, yet somehow louder than the tape playing. It works its way under Eddie’s skin. Into his stomach, through his throat, and into his brain. Steve’s gentle, manufactured cries. Stifled behind his lips. In real time, Eddie watches him shatter. The way his eyes gloss over, his cheeks going splotchy with the sounds, his shoulders shake.

“Woah, hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out again. He wants to ground him. Wants to comfort the way he knows how. How he soothes Wayne’s panic episodes. And how he calms Dustin down from lashing out. Or when Robin talks herself in circles. Wants to just…be there. “Hey, Steve, are you—“

“Don’t touch me,” Steve bites out, “I don’t have anything—You—I don’t want to.”

Immediately, Eddie drops his hand to the now unoccupied middle cushion. The fabric meeting his palm. Going cold. Warm where Steve had just been relaxed. And Eddie—he may be a dastardly fool most days, dumb as rock the others, three time senior—knows exactly what he did, now that he’s focused on every small movement he makes. He’s perceptive to the way Steve is leaning as far away as possible. How crumpled he makes his body. Eddie notices how much space has been created and where his hands lie.

I’m so stupid, he thinks, that’s like rule one. 

Don’t touch him without asking.

“Fuck,” Eddie softly curses. He pulls himself away. To his own corner of the sofa. And swallows the bit of panic that rises in him. His eyes drift away from Steve’s fearful face, to his own hands. Twitches them in his lap, against his knees. Wants to cut them off. Throw them into a blender. Feed them to the birds. Something. But he forces himself to look back up.

Steve trembles against the couch. In a way that is not the Steve Harrington that Eddie met when fighting other worldly creatures. That dismantles everything and anything he once knew.

“Shit. I—Steve, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “I’m sorry. I know that you don’t like that unless people ask. And I just—I wasn’t thinking, I promise. It was just—You know, I’m touchy with all my friends and I was just going to see if you wanted me to make some dinner or order some food. I was just trying to get your attention, y’know, and I didn’t mean anything by it. I promise, I swear. I swear on my mom, Steve. I would never—“ He takes a deep, gasping breath. Coughing on the inhale. His hands shake, now. And he doesn’t think he’s ever seen fear paint itself so clear and bright on a person’s face, but he’s looking into it. Steve’s pallor and yet still red cheeks. And his all consuming, though far away eyes. His built body, yet childlike hold.

A part of Eddie wants to cry, too. I’ve fucked up, he panics internally, I’ve fucked everything up and now he’s not going to be my friend and he was such a good friend, too. Why did I have to do that? I just wanted to make sure he was fed, too. That’s it. He’s such a good friend and now I’ve fucked it and I just—I—

“You wanted to make me food?” Steve quietly croaks.

Eddie, in an instant, nods. “Yes!” He exclaims in his own panic. “Yes, I swear, Steve. I wasn’t thinking when I touched your thigh. And I—What do you want to eat, Stevie? Say the word, I’ll find a way to make it or…something.”

His hands twitch in his lap once more. Thumbs catching on the ripped holes of his jeans. The threads soft and wearing away under his skin. The scratchy, dry bit of skin that peers through. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t think he breathes. Just makes eye contact with Steve. Which, surely, is overbearing and unnecessary and…I’m probably freaking him out more, calm down. He takes a deep breath, blows it away from him, and lowers his shoulders from where he didn’t know they were hiking.

“It was nothing more than to check-in. I promise,” he reiterates, murmuring.

Steve, finally, draws away from himself. With his own breath. He unravels his legs, stretching them out to their full length onto the middle cushion. Arms going limp at his sides. Hands resting against his thighs. His eyes dart—left and right and left and right—between Eddie’s. Nods once. “Okay,” he meekly musters. “Okay, Eds. Can…We can order pizza. There should be a menu on the kitchen counter. I’ll—“

Eddie stands from his own cushion before Steve gets the chance to. “Nope, don’t worry about it. Just try and relax, yeah? I’ll go put in an order, pay for it. You…Pepperoni pizza?” Steve just nods, tentative and surprised. “Cool,” Eddie states, “I’ll be right back.”

The phone call goes by quick and he easily sets the money out for when the driver gets there. But he’s not entirely sure his presence is going to be a warm welcome in the living room again. He gets a glass of water anyway because, surely, Steve will tell him to go if he isn’t wanted.

Steve’s in the same position as when Eddie left. Though, his gaze isn’t entirely there. Somewhere beyond Eddie’s shoulder. But there’s a gleam, a little shine that tells him that Steve isn’t gone from himself, not yet at least. He sits back down in his own cushion. Glass on the coffee table. And turns, keeping himself tight to his own body.

“Hey, Steve?” He calls out, watching as Steve blinks sluggishly back into his body. “I—uh—I got you some water, if you want it. Drinking water usually helps me feel better after…After a down moment, y’know?”

Next to him, Steve hums. He sighs. “Can I trust you with something?” He asks, forgoing the water entirely.

Eddie nods in haste. “Of course, Steve. If you have something you have to tell me, I can keep things to myself,” he states. Which is one hundred percent true. He may be a loud guy, screaming and yelling when need be. May be somebody that fills a room with noise, if only so he doesn’t succumb to the silence. But he knows how to keep a secret. It’s sort of a survival tactic, is what he’d say if somebody asked him about it. He’s kept secrets about his parents, things behind lock and key in his ribcage. Granted, he may forget, but he won’t say a damn thing. And he surely won’t spill Steve’s beans, especially with the way he looks to him in open earnest.

“Okay,” Steve responds. His legs fall away from the couch and he rights himself into being completely upright. Ramrod straight. On the far right cushion. Mirroring Eddie’s tight pose. Feet flat to the floor. His eyes trace something on the coffee table, cracks probably, but Eddie can’t exactly tell. “Okay. I…You’re going to be the second person I’ve ever told this to, alright? And I—I figured that it would come out sooner or later, but you’re gonna need an explanation for whatever the fuck just happened. And I don’t know how else to talk about it without just going all-in. So…I just need you to listen. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you have the floor, Stevie. My mouth is shut.”

Steve nods slow, a ghost of a smile on his face. Breathes in through his nose, it traps in his chest and comes out as one gentle gust. He swallows heavily, words seemingly rising in his throat. And that smile falls away just as it sprung.

“In middle school, before I was popular and whatever, I had a group of friends that I ran with. We were all nerds, I won’t deny that. And—And I would involve myself with some of their interests, if only because I wanted to fit in,” Steve explains first. His eyes roam again. Not picking a spot, but Eddie won’t fault him for it. He continues, voice fracturing, “One of the guys I was closer to, we’ll call him R, he was interested in this club. It was kind of like a tech club? Focused on radios and channels and math and…Things that I was actually kind of good with, but needed a better understanding on. So, I figured, I’d sign up for this club. Go with my…friend.”

Before he goes on to say more, he leans over for the glass of water on the table. Holds it gently between his hands. Doesn’t take any sips. The condensation droplets roll down his fingers. Cold most likely keeping him grounded to the room.

Eddie can already tell he’s not going to like wherever this part of Steve’s past leads him. How Steve has to take breaks, it upsets Eddie greatly. He’s not sure he’s entirely prepared for whatever confession comes from Steve this time, but he’ll digest it. Get through this with the guy and figure out all he needs to.

Another steadying breath. And Steve’s voice is like gravel, but he keeps talking.

“It was a weekly thing. And we’d go in. Be taught about gadgets and whats-its and whatnot. R was there, though. He was always there. We’d talk, laugh, shoot the shit. Normal friend bullshit.

“One day, though. One day, something was…different. He looked at me. There was a sense of hunger. Want. A drive to him that I’d never seen before. He’d lean more into my space, drop his voice lower, whisper right into my ear.” Steve blinks in rapid succession. His breath keeps stuttering. And something in Eddie’s stomach sours. He goes, though. Pushing through. “I told him to stop. To knock it off. Kept telling him that I was trying to learn. That I wanted to focus. And he just…He wouldn’t,” he explains.

Eddie spikes with great unease and anger. Never at Steve. But whoever this so called ‘friend’ is, Eddie wants to maybe kill him. He keeps quiet, though. Steve wanted to share and he needs this out. And Eddie can listen. He can, even if it makes him want to cry, too.

“I thought that’s all it would be,” Steve speaks quietly, “Just him talking to me in this new tone. With this new level to his voice. But…I’m kind of stupid, I guess, so of course that’s not all he’d do. The next week at our club meeting, he got closer than before. He began to…” Steve stops and swallows. A single, silent tear crawls down his face. It doesn’t even phase him, the way crying usually does. It’s just background at this point. “…He began to—to touch me in ways I’d never been. And I—I told him to stop, I remember doing that. I remember putting distance between us. And saying no and saying stop and shoving his hands off me. But he just—“ A broken little sob. “—He was supposed to be my friend,” he states, small as a child.

The sobs rack Steve in such a way that his whole body is jolting with it. Nearly toppling off the couch. He chugs the water between cries, but doesn’t move from his spot. Tight and closed off within his own body.

“I wanted him to just be my friend,” Steve continues a moment later, nasally and choked. “But he didn’t want that. He kept overpowering every single decision I made. His breath on my earlobe. And his hands on my thigh, on my…He fucking touched my crotch. Tried to coerce me into having sex,” he spits. “That guy…He made me feel fucking disgusting. About my own body. About things I loved. About sex,” Steve growls, “Made me sort of dislike all those things, too.”

Eddie, for how loud he can be, is completely silent for once. Unable to form words. Not sure how to comfort. And if he could comfort, isn’t sure if that’s something he can do the way he wants to. He can’t touch. Can’t do what he’d normally do. And his body aches to take care of Steve or to simply hold him. To be…well, to be a friend. But that’s not something Steve can exactly trust.

He feels sick to his stomach.

The last bit of water is sipped at slowly, as Steve comes down. Then, he turns to face Eddie. Making direct and purposeful eye contact. “It’s not your fault, that I reacted like I did,” he states lowly. “And it’s not your fault that I close up when you want to talk about sex. Or you wanna talk about all that intimate shit. It’s something with me. Like something’s broken. It’s like a deep crack in me, Eddie.

“And I just wanted to clear up all that. Explain what I can, I guess.” He snakes out a tentative hand. It’s shaking and hesitant, but it still lands softly on the back of Eddie’s right. Squeezes. “But thank you for taking notice. And being concerned. And for apologizing. I feel safe with you, Eddie. I trust you a lot. Which is like—That’s probably highest honors you could earn with me.” And he chuckles slightly. It’s not a humorous thing, but it’s not exactly humorless either.

Eddie lets himself soak in this, though. Smiling warmly back at Steve. Because he needs it. They both need it. He murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me with that, Steve. That wasn’t easy and I’m proud of you for speaking up about it. I’m glad to be somebody you can trust.”

With another exhale, Steve relaxes back into the couch. His hand doesn’t move from Eddie’s. “I also want to say that you’re allowed to talk about your relationships with dudes,” he states quietly. “Seriously, I don’t mind. But just…Just check in with me? Before you do?”

“Of course,” he agrees instantly. “I’ll keep that in my noggin, promise, Stevie.”

Ghost of a smile on Steve’s face again. “Thanks,” he whispers.

A lull floats in the conversation. Steve removes his hand, watching as his fingers twitch, and there’s a little uptick to the corners of his mouth. Something pleased and almost…reverent at the way he looks at his hand.

Before Eddie can get up to change out the movie, he heaves a little sigh. And says, “Y’know, if you ever need any sort of physical comfort, need to talk about this, or you just need somebody to tell you that you’re okay, you can lean on me. Don’t even need to ask, really. I’m all arms.”

“I’ll think about it, Eds. This has been enough for me."

——— Steve comes out to him at the same diner Eddie did only a few years later.

It’s 1990, Eddie’s twenty-four and Steve’s freshly twenty-three. He has a certain spark to him. A sparkle to his smile and a pep in his step. And Eddie’s happy to see him happy.

Happy to eventually call their relationship romantic. Happy to share spots on the couch, curled around each other. Happy to kiss him slow and sweet or not at all, just able to gaze over coffee mugs and across the room and when Steve thinks he can’t be seen.

Eddie’s just happy to be allowed this love that fills his chest and in the colder, vacant spots of their lives.

But he realizes he still hasn’t heard everything about Steve. He gives it time, though. Because the second most important thing to Steve—first just being there for him—is patience.

The next of their chats happens when things get heated on the couch.

Soft kisses turn hungry, carnivorous. Hands wander over heated skin. Steve’s fingers against the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. But his hands shake. And Eddie places his own hands off to the sides of the couch, pulling himself away before things can get any farther than they already are.

“Hey,” he softly speaks, “Steve, we don’t—I’m okay with just kissing right now. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Steve stops next to him. Tensing up only slightly. “Are you—You’re sure about that?” His voice is so tiny, so unlike him. And though Eddie’s heard this tone before, it still breaks him.

He says easily, “I don’t want you to be scared of our first time, baby. It’s okay if we need to take things slow.”

He watches as Steve heavily swallows. “And if I asked if we never had sex?”

Eddie eyes him for a moment. Not wearily. With something like subtle pride. “Is that what you want?” He asks in turn. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

Subtly, Steve nods. “I—“ He sighs sadly. “I’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about it. With girls, I never even liked it. I just did it because it…There was something to say about a guy who could have sex with anybody he wants. But I also…I don’t know.” He shrugs as if trying to dismiss it, but Eddie doesn’t like that.

He sets a hesitant, soft hand on Steve’s shoulder. Squeezes when he doesn’t move away. “If you never want to have sex again, I’d be okay with that. I’d be more than okay with that,” he states assuringly. “You being happy and comfortable is what matters most to me. Not sex. I don’t give a shit about sex, not when I get to see you every day, smile on your face, and your eyes shiny and beautiful.”

Steve gives another small sigh, but the smile he has doesn’t waver. “Okay. I—Eddie, I don’t think I want to have sex,” he admits quietly. It shakes from his throat, but it’s still confident the way it lands between them. “It just doesn’t feel good to me. And I—I don’t want to force myself to do it. And it wouldn’t be fair to you, either.”

Another affirmative squeeze to Steve’s shoulder. “Alright, baby. Then we don’t have sex,” he agrees softly. “And if you ever change your mind—not that I’m forcing you to—then I’m okay with what you want.” He scoots himself closer so that their bodies are one single line, warm against each other. Reiterating, “Your happiness and comfort matter the most to me.”

With both of his hands, Steve wraps Eddie’s free one. Traces the veins on the back of his hand. Toys with his fingers. “We can still kiss, though,” he states quietly. “Maybe I want a kiss.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. So, he closes the gap. A wet peck to Eddie’s lips. Soft and venturing. One that last only a few seconds. He draws back with the softest smile adorned on his features. Murmurs, “Thank you for hearing me out on this. And for understanding. And for accepting this.”

“I love you, Steve. Just for you. Not the sex or touch. We could never do anything except sit next to each other and talk, and I’d still love you,” Eddie swears.

Steve sniffs something wet. Shoves himself a little closer, cuddling into Eddie’s chest. To which Eddie wraps his arms around his back in response. And he sighs, but it’s a sound of long awaited relief. “I love you, too, Eddie. God, I love you.”

The conversations are tough and they are stomach turning, but after it all, Eddie gets to have Steve. How he is. How he wants to be. And that’s all Eddie could hope for.

He kisses the top of Steve’s head and relaxes back into the couch. “I’m proud of you, Steve,” he murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for being patient. Being here.”

Eddie squeezes them together even tighter. Warm in his chest at the content noise that draws itself from Steve. This could be all that they do forever and Eddie would never ask for more.

🩵—————🩵

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #cw referenced rape/non-con #read the content warnings #asexual steve harrington

[marvelfanfics1]

How do you think cg!Rafe would react to little!reader who has had a really bad day and is very deep in littlespace?

I'm not really happy with how this turned out but I tried 😭

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You both had been invited to some family gathering by Rafe's dad. It was a fancy restaurant and many relatives were there which already made you nervous because you had the urge to be little since you woke up but decided to push that away for the sake of Rafe not canceling, knowing he would do that in a heartbeat but you wanted to impress his family since you still felt out of place any time at one of the Cameron's gatherings and decided not to tell him.

Everything had gone smoothly until you went to use the restroom. Sitting in your stall you could hear two of his cousins talking bad about you. You tried holding back your tears but the second you heard the door shut again your feelings poured over.

You didn't know how long you had been sitting there sobbing, that fuzzy feeling you get when you're at the verge of slipping having you shake your head.

"No, no, no...not now- be big. Imma big girl-" You mumbled to yourself, getting up and checking if anyone is there before you went to look at yourself in the mirror, scolding yourself. "Stop being a baby."

If Rafe could hear you right now. Lord have mercy. He would scold you even more for disrespecting your little self.

When you were sure your crying stopped you wiped away the remaining tears and took a deep breath. Leaving the restroom you suddenly bumped into someones chest, looking up you sighed when it was da- Rafe.

"You were gone for a while, you okay?" He asked and even though you nod he knew you were lying, your puffy and red eyes giving you away. He just let it go for now as the evening is almost over and you both just wanted to get over with it.

Later in the car you were silent, just looking out the window and playing with the end of your soft pink dress. Rafe glanced your way and sighed.

"Look, I- I know something happened earlier and don't say 'it's nothing' because when you cried about it's- it's not nothing, a'ight? So, tell me."

You just shook your head, not in the mood to talk anymore today. The only thing you wanted now was to wrap yourself in a blanket and sleep.

He wanted to press the subject further, placing his hand on your thigh to give you some assurance but you only shrugged his hand off and Rafe then slowly figured that you may have slipped the second you got in the car and that you're probably just tired and overstimulated from everything.

"Okay, I understand. Let's- we'll talk about it later." He said and you didn't give him any sign of acknowledgement, looking out the window again.

Back at home you completely shut down, quickly making your way to the bedroom, grabbing your lamb stuffie and curled up under the covers. All the big emotions you felt having frustrated tears flowing down your cheeks again.

Rafe came in a few minutes later and smirked, not obvious to the situation and sat down by your side, pulling the bedsheets off your head and is instantly worried by your tears, his eyes widen.

"Hey, Hey, hey. C'mere." He pulled you into his arms, ignoring your fussing and weak attempts at trying to push him away. "No- none of that. Shh, you're okay."

You only whined, giving up and slumping against him, gripping onto his shirt and letting the tears flow. Rafe started rocking you while whispering affirmations, practically suffocating you in his hold but that's exactly what you needed right now.

After your little meltdown you pulled your face from his neck, looking up at him with big eyes, just blinking at him slowly. He was a bit irritated because he didn't know that look at all.

You only mumbled a small 'daddy' before placing your head back on his shoulder and slipping your thumb between your lips.

It then clicked in Rafe's head.

"Someone's feeling really small, hm?" He rubbed your arm, feeling you nod against him. "That's okay. That's why daddy's here, to take care of you."

He just kept holding and rocking you. When you were sound asleep he reached over to grab your paci from your nightstand and took your thumb out of your mouth, quickly replacing it with the paci when you started to stir.

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Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra

#little!reader #daddy!rafe thoughts #daddy!rafe drabble

[yanderes-galore]

Sure! Bit rusty on Beastars but let me see what I got :) Darling is most likely an herbivore in this, but it's vague.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Legoshi Prompts 2, 18, 24

“I want to repay you for how happy you make me.”

“I wouldn’t ever hurt you. Everyone else, on the other hand…”

“Love can’t even begin to describe what I feel for you.”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Mature themes, Slight intimacy, Blood, Violence mentioned/implied, Clingy behavior, Fear of loss, Dubious touching/kissing, Dubious relationship.

The atmosphere of the hotel room is tense. Both of you roam the room, trying to get comfortable after previous events. After all... You were recently saved by Legoshi.

Your mind keeps flashing to when you were captured by the Shishigumi. Just when you felt you'd die to the lions, Legoshi came bursting in with bloodlust in his eyes. You considered Legoshi a friend... But you never thought he'd save you.

Poor you was oblivious to the reasons behind your rescue.

By the end of it, Legoshi held you in a tight embrace. The sudden hug was surprising... But welcomed. Although you could tell Legoshi ran out of adrenaline when he slumped in your arms.

Afterwards, when you helped him up, you ate together and found somewhere to stay for the night. A Love Hotel wasn't ideal... Yet it was somewhere you both could stay. You could tell even Legoshi was nervous as he entered the room.

You pitied how he looked... The wolf covered in blood and bruises from when he tore into the lions. You frowned slightly, noticing how out of it Legoshi looked. You finally sit on the bed, seeing how Legoshi just seems to stare.

"Are... You tired, Legoshi?" You ask, the wolf perking up at your words. His gaze softens... The reality of the situation setting in. He... He almost lost you...

His heart rate picks up at the thought.

"Tired?" Legoshi echoes back to you, trying to think clearly. "A little, I guess... Are you sure we should be sleeping in the same bed...? After everything that has happened?"

"We'll be fine for one night, right? Not like we can use the train now..." You sigh, gesturing to the bathroom. "How about you wash your clothes and recover? You... We've been through a lot."

Legoshi snaps out of his thoughts enough to head to the bathroom and wash his clothes. As he checks himself in the mirror, he can't help but worry. He really did almost lose you... Before he even got to say how he felt...

Should he change that... Tonight?

You notice Legoshi looks nervous and distant when he returns, sitting on the bed with his ears back. You look at him concerned when he glances at you, face tinted pink. You sit up to face him.

"Hey... I'm sorry you got yourself hurt for me." You whisper, looking at his black eye. Legoshi turns his full attention to you before heaving a sigh.

"It's okay, I did it for you." Legoshi answers, smiling softly at the thought "Plus..." The wolf leans closer, catching you by surprise.

“I wanted to repay you for how happy you make me.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at what he says. Legoshi gives you a dreamy look as he watches you. You... You make him feel conflicted... Yet he's always happy around you.

"Legoshi... There's no need to repay me for being kind. If anything, I should repay you...." Your voice comes out in a murmur. Legoshi's ears flick, it's clear he heard what you said. Even more so when he leans closer with his tail swaying.

"You're so important to me..." Legoshi whispers softly, nose sniffing at you as his eyes dilate. "I-I just wish I knew how to properly show it."

You yelp softly when he pulls you into his chest. You sink into his toned torso, heart hammering at the sudden contact. You then feel Legoshi's head lay on your shoulder, tail wagging.

"I want you to count on me to protect you." Legoshi admits, grip tighter than he means to be. “I wouldn’t ever hurt you. Everyone else, on the other hand…”

You notice the change of tone in Legoshi's voice. Your ears pick up on the subtle growl in his throat and you... Don't feel all that safe anymore. You keep your worries to yourself as the wolf nuzzles into you.

"I got so scared when I learned you were missing..." Legoshi sighs, claws trailing patterns on your stomach. "I... I just had to go find you... because I... Well, I love you...."

You perk at his confession, shaking in his arms as he holds you. Having a wolf like him love you... well... it could be dangerous. You've seen what he can do. The thought is flattering...

But you can tell his affections aren't normal if he's so hostile towards others.

"Actually," Legoshi continues, turning you around so you're looking at him before he gently pushes you down on the bed. “Love can’t even begin to describe what I feel for you.”

You stare at the wolf above you. The purple light illuminates him in a soft glow... You can see a sinister look in his gaze. Your heart beats fast... Not quite out of love... But out of fear.

"I can't get you out of my head..." Legoshi confesses. "I think of you more than I'd like to admit and... I don't want to lose you. I want you to know I'm obsessed with you and about you..."

The wolf leans closer, cupping your face with a large clawed hand. Before you know it he leans in and kisses you softly. You don't fight it... be that because you secretly wanted it... or were too scared to push away. By the end of it, Legoshi pulls away with a small pant.

He's always wanted to do that.

"I want you to know I'll always be here to protect you... No matter what happens... I'll always be yours." Legoshi smiles and you stare at his fangs. You realize you need to calm down... You don't want to think of this right now.

Will he really hurt those around you? Was it just a "heat of the moment" kind of thing?

"Legoshi..." You call, seeing the wolf perk up again. You gently stroke his cheek and the wolf leans into the touch with a sigh. "I... I need to shower then I'm heading to bed."

"Is that what you want?" Legoshi tilts his head while sitting up. "We... We don't have to do anything else if you don't want to, Of course!"

"I'm tired and you still need to heal." You admit, sitting up properly to release yourself from the wolf. "Let's... Discuss this another time?"

You see the wolf's ear pin down for a moment before he nods. Perhaps he is moving too fast with you. That's okay... He can wait.

"Sure... Have a nice shower." He looks away, allowing you to leave. As you both part, you both wonder what this means for the both of you.

Will this make you both happy...?

Or will you and those around you just get hurt in the process of Legoshi's fantasies.

#yandere beastars #yandere legoshi #yandere beastars imagines

[isa-ghost]

I see you have hcs, do you have any for mr fitmc?

Yes!!

Here's some ones of his relationship with Phil past and present too bc I don't think I have Fit standalone ones until now.

Obviously these will apply to AMFMN Fit too!

Fit is extremely observant and perceptive. Years of roaming a wasteland, spending every minute of every day documenting, chronicling, exploring and witnessing so much really sharpens those kinds of skills. Not much gets past Fit unless he simply wasn't there or doesn't know. All it takes is an inkling and he'll start connecting dots and making theories.

It's why he Hates the Federation. Not only is he an anarchist, he hates the way they make it so easy to keep him in the dark. It's why he weaseled into it in the first position he could get. Being a janitor sucks, but it's something. Anything to get a foundation for making next moves.

He struggles with trust though. He trusts people, but very few if any does he trust whole-heartedly. Pac & Phil are likely the only ones he trusts that much. And even then, he doesn't confide in anyone nearly as deeply as he does Ramon. Spending so much of his life in 2B2T has taught him to reserve trust for people who prove without a doubt that they're ride or die with you. He wishes he didn't find it so difficult to trust more people though.

Okay complete 180 in vibes here but I'm very passionate about this one: Fit has a giant warhammer that's his weapon of choice. Chainsaw, scythe, potato cannon, whatever other stuff he's got is good. But big fucking hammer. With those muscles? Oughoughouhgh.

By the way he never in his life had experienced people simping for his muscles or flirting with him prior to being on QI. It was whiplash and it's changed him for the worst /pos

On the surface it seems like Fit is pretty cold or at least disinterested in stuff that leans on the vulnerable side. It's not entirely wrong, he's spent so long in a place where vulnerability gets your base blown to smithereens or gets you robbed blind or both. But he Does enjoy such things. I mean, just look at the Fitpac date! And hugs? Hugs rock! He'd be so much worse off if he didn't let loose or let himself lower his guard every now and then. It takes a lot of energy to keep those walls up, it'd be unhealthy to never let them down. Especially in a place like Quesadilla Island, where it seems like it's a bit safer to do so. Honestly, he's the opposite of disinterested in letting walls down. He wants that more than anything, and it took being put on QI, becoming a dad, and falling in love for him to realize it.

Which makes keeping up this facade really hard. Not just the whole "snooping for data" thing, just Everything Fit has built himself to be over the years altogether. He doesn't want to keep holding people at arm's length and looking over his shoulder all the time anymore. It's exhausting.

That's not to say he wouldn't relapse right back to how he was before QI softened him up, though. Again, those trust issues. Purgatory really fucked with his head for a while. And plenty of things that happened after, like the whole Phil Ender King thing, really didn't help either. What he's going through is a form of healing, and healing isn't linear.

He isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Be it with dirt, blood, or otherwise. His motto is you gotta do what you gotta do. He's a very means to an end kinda guy. And despite wishing he could shed being so hardened by the 2B2T Wastelands, he does value that it's given him this kind of strength. It takes a lot to be willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.

The reason Fit loves fofoca is not only because he enjoys indulging his inner drama whore. He's spent most of his life roaming a place where secrets were as good if not better of a trade than actual currency. When he first arrived on QI, he wasn't entirely sure how to just. Casually socialize. There's little to no risk in it. It was incredibly foreign to him. But it turns out that gossip is like trading secrets in a different font. He's good at that. So collecting and spreading fofoca is how he taught himself to appear kind of "normal" to the other islanders.

Most if not all of the above is also evidence to support the fact that Fit in general is a very adaptive person. You can put him in any environment, as soon as he gets the gist of the status quo and what kind of stakes he's dealing with here, he'll manage no problem. Chances are he's experienced worse. Purgatory and the prison are 2 good examples.

Calling back to the wanting to be vulnerable + confiding in Ramon the most things, GOD is he grateful he got such a brilliant son. Ramon learned a lot from him, but even so, he already had many of the same traits Fit does. It did wonders for bonding, and it's part of what made trusting Ramon come so easy. He's glad he got a son that's so understanding of the way he operates.

The only thing stopping him from taking a page from Cellbit and just starting to kill Feds for information or other reasons is because he knows he'll get more out of playing the long con and letting himself be strung along. Infiltration goes further than outright brutality in his eyes. Brutality is saved for something you no longer need anything from.

Btw his stealth skills are fucking insane. In 2B2T your detection is life or death, and it'll only end in your favor if you can talk sweet enough or have something worth bargaining with. He often did one or the other, but even so, a historian like him typically lacked anything of much value to most bandits and the like. He was simply charismatic and lucky. Which means staying hidden, laying low, and moving with more calculation than a math class is more beneficial to him. And boy has it come in handy on the island too.

In his time on QI, once The Horrors all started, he's learned he really likes having intense intellectual talks with other islanders. Strategizing, theorizing. It feels like the survival he's so used to but with less imminent threats on his life. Bagi especially is an absolute delight to get into these kinds of talks with. It feels like casual socializing and the kind of talking he's used to at the same time. Very much his jam.

#qsmp #qsmp fit #qsmp fitmc #q!fit #q!fitmc #fitmc #qsmp headcanons #AMFMN things

[venturelovebot]

A/N: AAAAAHHHH my wrists, fingers and elbows hurt but it's done. It took me literally all night to write this. If it doesn't show up in the tags, or if it horrifically flops, I do not care. I loved every moment I poured into writing this and I'll reread it until the end of time and YES I will write a sequel to it AND MORE because I love it that much. Just not right now because ouch. BTW this references what happens in "Plushie Problem" so if you're confused you should read that, too!

Premise: Anxious!GN!reader steps out of their comfort zone for the very first time in a long time. Of course, what could possibly go wrong? Featuring SunShrine and MekaMechanic cameos!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and assault (not SA). Otherwise it's safe to read!

You feel the dread building up in your stomach as sun began to set over the horizon– but you were ready. Living your life in fear turned out to be exceptionally boring, even if you weren't exactly the loneliest person on earth anymore. This would be your big first step into interacting with the rest of the world and obviously there would be some anxiety. However, no one does anxiety as well as you do. There is where the problem lies.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You can hear the worry in Sloan's voice. Perhaps you've started rubbing off on them.

"I think so."

You step outside the bedroom and smile, but even that seemed to be out of fear.

"I'm proud of you for trying this. You look amazing, by the way." Their compliment turns your anxious smile into a cheerful grin.

You've never dressed up this much before. It almost reminded you of an early 2000's Hot Topic ad, and they were dressed no differently.

Your beloved wraps their arms around you and pulls you in for a tight, comforting hug. They nuzzle their face to yours and you begin to feel the lead in your stomach lighten to feathers.

"Don't forget your backpack." They hand you your heart shaped backpack adorned with bat wings.

You open the zipper and check for everything inside: fidget toys, tiny weighted [favorite animal] plushie, protective ear wear decorated with stickers, anxiety pills, phone, wallet. That was everything.

"Are you ready?"

You take a deep breath in and exhale to center yourself before the door opens.

"I'm ready."

The venue wasn't particularly crowded tonight and you were deeply thankful for that. Colorful flashing lights could be seen on both stories of the building with loud music playing from within. Then the anxiety hit you like a pound of bricks.

"We still have time to go home." Sloan offers, seeing apprehension beginning to form on your face.

"Maybe just twenty minutes... then we go home." You frown.

"Whatever you want to do, mi cielo."

You gaze down at the ground next and weigh both options in your mind. On one hand you could avoid anything unpleasant happening by just going home. On the other hand you'd miss you and your beloveds favorite band as the closing act. While arguing with yourself you can feel their arm wrap around your waist to help you feel safer.

Quite the conflict.

You swallow nervously and put on your hearing protection. "Okay."

The two of you approach the main entrance and your trembling continues. As soon as the door opens it feels like the music permeates you down to your very atoms. Never in your entire life had you heard anything so needlessly and obnoxiously loud. The ear protection helps slightly but you still couldn't hear yourself think. There's also no point in trying to talk as you wouldn't be heard anyway. Instead, you tug on Sloan's shirt and they turn towards you immediately. You point upwards towards the second floor and they nod.

The relief as soon as you stepped on the upper floor was immense. Whatever magic they used to make it monumentally quieter up here should be used considerably more in all public spaces. You feel confident enough to remove your hearing protection and place it around your neck for now.

"Do you mind if we stay up here?" You ask.

"Of course not. Wherever you feel safest!"

You're so thankful that they're understanding.

You both sit near the back of the venue on a row of interconnected seating where it was dimmer so the flashing lights didn't irritate your eyes.

"You're doing great so far!"

Sloan cups your face affectionately and you reach up to place your hand over theirs. The two of you watch everything going on from your safe little place in the corner– and the view was by no means bad, either. You could see the current band playing and the crowd of fans cheering their hearts out.

"Do you want anything to drink? I can get us something if you want." They offer.

"Maybe just a soda." You reply.

"Alright. You don't mind if I have a drink or two, do you?" They ask.

You shake your head. They pat your head and lean down to give you a kiss to your forehead before walking off. In the mean time you remove your backpack and hug it close to your chest in case you needed quick access. You watch as different people walk up and down the stairs, sit down, mingle and talk to each other and you can't help but wonder what it must be like to have a life without debilitating anxiety.

"Well then... didn't expect to see you here." A familiar voice sounds from behind you, and your anxiety spikes.

Once she steps out into view your nerves relax again.

"Illari? You're a fan of rock music? Also, you look gorgeous!" You smile as your friend comes to greet you.

"I guess we never really talked about music much. I didn't expect you to like it, either." Illari returns your warm smile, except when she does it, it feels like genuine sunshine. "You also look great!"

"Aww man, who invited this nerd?" You hear Sloan joke as they return with a beer and your favorite soda. They sit next to you with a grin on their face.

Illari takes a seat on the opposite side of you. "You're the one to talk."

She's not great at returning insults, but she tries her best.

The three of you exchange casual conversation for a little while as the first band concludes their performance and the next one begins setting up. For a while all is well, and your heart is at peace.

"So– you didn't tell either of us you liked rock music Illari!"

"I do! I promise. I'm also on a date–"

"A WHAT?!" 

Illari giggles at Sloan's reaction. You have to admit you're also surprised.

"WITH WHO?!"

"Uh, with me?" A devious voice replies.

A beautiful girl approaches Illari and places a quick kiss to her lips.

"KIRIKO?! OH MY GOD!!!"

You've never met this girl before.

"We've been dating for a while. You just never noticed." Kiriko's eyes fall on to you. "Who's your date, then? I don't believe we've met."

Your hands grip your backpack even harder as the spotlight is metaphorically put on you.

"This is [Y/N]! I told you that I fixed their stuffie for them when all that... drama... happened."

"Oh! That's right. I'm really sorry that happened to you." Kiriko's face warms up after hearing your name. "I have a fox stuffie I made myself! I'd be happy to show you sometime!"

Illari stands up and Kiriko wraps her arm around her waist. "Well it was nice meeting you, [Y/N]! See you around sometime!"

You nod with a content look on your face. The pair wander back downstairs and disappear into the crowd. The music begins to play once again.

You turn towards your beloved and smile.

"I'm glad this is going better than expected." You admit, and the joy on Sloan's face is immense.

It was clear they loved seeing you enjoy yourself.

"And I'm glad you're having a good time, mi corazón."

The two of you enjoy your drinks in a comfortable silence before the song changes. A mosh pit almost immediately begins to form.

"OH! I gotta go join in–" They immediately stand up before the realization hits them. "Would you be fine if I went downstairs for a song or two? I promise I'll be back up here afterwards!" They grab your hands and beg.

You can feel your nerves activate at the thought of being left alone... but you didn't want to see your beloved disappointed.

"Okay. Just be careful!"

"I will be!" They head towards the stairs before turning back one last time. "I'll be back, I promise!"

Then you were truly alone. You clutch your backpack again before opening it for a fidget toy– a little button pressing mini game with cute sounds and visuals. It keeps your fingers and mind occupied for a small amount of time. More people continue to pass you by but you continue your game without looking up.

To your dismay, someone practically falls on to the couch next to you. The scent of alcohol assaults your senses and you attempt to ignore it.

Just mind your own business.

Just mind your own business.

Just mind your own business.

"Hey."

Oh no.

You look up from your fidget toy and your fidget toy session ends with a GAME OVER.

"Um, hi."

They're so drunk that they barely register your reply. You slide in the opposite direction of them when they're looking away from you. Your heart begins to pound and dread fills the entirety of your body. They turn back with a grin.

"You're pretty cute." Their words slur together.

"Oh! Uh, thanks." You fake a smile.

"How much?"

You thought you were hearing things, so you ask them to repeat the question.

"How. Much?" They hiccup.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I'm not who you're looking for–"

You start to get up before a hand grabs your hair. Pure, unadulterated terror fills your entire body and your nerves begin to sear in straight anxiety.

You knew it was a mistake to go out tonight. You knew it, and you went against your better judgement anyway.

"Hey! You didn't answer my question! How much? I can pay with whatever you want–"

"I'm sorry but I don't do that type of work!"

You wince and cry out in pain as they attempt to pull you back down.

"Hold on!"

Without any other choice you let out a scream to get other people's attention. All the heads on the second floor turn to see what's going on. Your hair is still being pulled on by a total stranger.

"Hey! Let them go, right now!" A tall, muscular girl shouts and makes her way over. A shorter, more petite girl follows behind.

"I'm recording right now! Let them go or we'll go to the police!" The shorter girl demands.

The drunk person finally lets go of your hair and you run as fast as you could with no direction in mind– but unknown to you, they begin to follow suit. A girl with spiky brown hair sticks her foot out and trips them after she lets you run past her.

You rush out the door and into the night with tears streaming down your face. You're heaving, screaming and running until you're lost and exhausted.

"What's going on over here?" Someone in the crowd of the second floor asks.

"Can someone call the police? This person just assaulted someone!" Brigitte asks.

Security immediately arrives to escort the drunk person out from the venue.

"I got the whole thing on video." Hana places her burning hot phone in her back pocket. "Apparently in 4K and 60 FPS. My phone is on fire..."

"What about that poor person who ran? Are they okay? Should we go and look for them?" Lena suggests.

All three girls stare into the darkness of the night.

"Oh! Look! They left their bag!" Hana notices, walking over to it. "There's also two drinks. They obviously came here with someone."

She unzips your bag and digs through your stuff as carefully as possible. "That's not good. Their phones in here, and their medicine."

"Medicine? Do you know what it's for?" Brigitte asks.

Hana shakes her head.

"Oh! Angela might know!"

Lena takes a picture of your medicine and sends it directly to Angela– lovingly assigned the nickname "Dr. Mercy" in her phone.

🧡 AF Traysi ⏱️: Angela it's an emergency!!! (10:09 PM)

🧡 AF Traysi ⏱️: (Uploaded a photo at 10:10 PM.)

🧡 AF Traysi ⏱️: what is this pill? please respond asap!!! :((( (10:10 PM)

💛 Dr. Mercy 😇🪽: Lena, what's going on? (10:16 PM)

💛 Dr. Mercy 😇🪽: I'm not well versed in medication but I've seen those given to patients before surgery. It's an anxiety pill. (10:17 PM)

💛 Dr. Mercy 😇🪽: What in the world is happening? (10:17 PM)

🧡 AF Traysi ⏱️: no time to explain Angela!!! I promise it wasn't me though!!! (10:18 PM)

Another message from Angela pops up but Lena puts her phone back in her pocket.

"Angela said it was for anxiety."

"Well, we can't just let them wander the streets alone without their personal possessions, especially their medication... we have to at least try to find them." Brigitte adds.

"How do we even start? They could be anywhere by now!" Hana frowns.

All three girls look at each other in anticipation.

"Group chat?" Brigitte suggests.

"Group chat." Hana and Lena reply at the same time.

✨🎶 LE SERAFFIM 4EVR 🪩✨

💖 AF BB 💪🏻: (Uploaded a photo at 10:20 PM.)

💝 AF Dazzle 💋: Alright lets see if this summons her (10:20 PM)

🦊 AF ✨✨: Huh??? That's [Y/N]s ID??? What's going on (10:21 PM)

🧡 AF Traysi ⏱️: Long story short we need to find this person before something else bad happens :( (10:21 PM)

👾: (Uploaded a photo at 10:23 PM.)

✨💜 JUNKRAT LE SSERAFIM STAN FOR LIFE 💜✨: huh (10:23 PM)

"SO, DO WE TELL THEM OR NOT?" Illari yells at the top of her lungs.

Kiriko and Illari glance at Sloan absolutely losing it in the mosh pit.

"WE HAVE TO! IT'S [Y/N]!" Kiriko replies at the same volume.

She turns and begins to brave the overly excited crowd. After what feels like hours of swimming upstream she reaches up and clasps Sloan on the shoulder. Instantly she feels their fist slam directly into her eye and she yells out in pain. Sloan turns around and gasps.

"OH MY GOD, KIRIKO, ARE YOU OKAY? I'M SO SORRY!" 

Glowing blue petals float around her before she shakes her head to stabilize herself.

"THAT'S OKAY! MAGICAL FOX SPIRIT PROMOTES FAST HEALING!" She gets back to the important topic at hand. "LISTEN, [Y/N]–"

As soon as they hear your name they become dead serious. Unfortunately for Kiriko though, a massive wave of people separates the two of them and their conversation is cut short. She's forced back towards the entrance near Illari.

"WHAT DO WE DO NOW?" Illari asks.

"I HAVE AN IDEA BUT YOU'LL NEED TO TRUST ME!"

Before Illari can answer Kiriko begins a sequence of fast hand movements and more glowing blue petals begin to form inside the venue. People thought it was some sort of visual effect the band had planned on doing and grew wilder at the scene. A rush of wind courses inside the building as Kiriko's kitsune grants her the strength she needs to begin pushing people out the way, but is rightfully stopped by Illari before that happens.

"WE CAN'T JUST SHOVE PEOPLE, IT'LL START A MASSIVE FIGHT!" Illari pulls her back by her side.

"WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST, THEN?"

"LET ME SIT ON YOUR SHOULDERS!"

"THIS IS NO TIME FOR PIGGY BACK RIDES!"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!"

In the middle of the planning Sloan begins to fight their way out of the crowd to the best of their ability, but it feels nearly impossible to move forward when you're being pushed back by dozens of people.

That's when they feel it– the breeze... their eyes turn teal blue.

From the very back they can see Illari waving their arms frantically attempting to call them over.

They move through the crowd effortlessly.

Illari hops off Kiriko's shoulders once Sloan makes it safely to their position before the kitsune's rush wears off.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" They ask.

"UPSTAIRS! NOW!" Illari replies.

The group of six huddle together in the back as the atmosphere around the venue slowly turns back to normal. Sloan goes through your backpack just to make sure everything is still safe inside. Thankfully, all is left mostly untouched aside from Hana's search from earlier.

"Sombra sent us this picture. We're pretty sure they're only a few blocks away, but we still have to hurry or else they'll be gone by the time we get there." 

Brigitte hands their phone to Sloan.

"Oh God... I really shouldn't have left them on their own." Their tone is sullen and full of guilt, just like the look on their face.

"There's no time to blame yourself. We have to find [Y/N] before something else happens." Illari places a comforting hand on their shoulder.

They only nod.

"Okay. You, Kiriko and Sloan go one way. We'll go the other. The entire city is designed to lead back to the north. Don't ask me how I know that–" Brigitte starts to remember the struggle of trying to find this place, but there's no time for that. "If they are where we think they are then it should be easy to get to them from here. If not... then we'll plan something else when we get there. Let's just get going before we have to start planning again."

Nobody argues with that.

"So, let me get this straight... you went to a music show–" Sombra begins counting on her fingers "Got assaulted by some random drunk person, ran, forgot all your stuff and now you're trying to find your way back?"

You nod while attempting to wipe your eyes dry. All of your smeared, ruined makeup had been rubbed off by now. A loud crack of thunder sounds in the distance announcing rain was on its way.

"Hm. Not the trickiest situation I've ever heard of..." Sombra then scoffs. "Definitely one of the funniest, though."

You crouch to your knees and began sobbing uncontrollably once again. "I'm going to die out here!" You shout, feeling totally helpless like a lost child in a grocery store.

Sombra watches as you begin having a genuine mental breakdown– does she actually feel bad, for once in her adult life...? Perhaps a little.

She pulls up a screen out of thin air and watches as the group of six people frantically searches for– what she's assuming is– this person in front of her. She raises an eyebrow as one of the colored dots on her screen comes close to her location but turns around at the very last moment.

"Wow." She comments as if she's watching a game. "These guys are hopeless."

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" You accuse the girl in front of you with a real, sincere despair.

Sombra chokes back a laugh.

"No, I'm no murderer. Not yet, anyway." Now, she laughs. "I wouldn't waste my first kill on you, though."

You can't tell rather to feel insulted or relieved... so you go with relieved. It's not enough to stop your full on meltdown, however.

"Now, let's see. Oooh!" Sombra watches once again as one the dots come closer, only to make the same mistake of getting turned around. "Oh. They must be throwing. There's no way!"

Your crying becomes more intense. She sighs, closes the screen and rolls her eyes before hacking a nearby vending machine for two sodas. She walks over and proceeds to offer you one.

"Here. Don't tell anybody I did this, okay?"

It's your favorite soda.

"H-huh?" You take the soda with gratitude. "How'd you know?"

"It's my favorite, too."

You open the bottle cap and drink all of the fizzy contents inside. It feels refreshing to your scratched up and tired throat.

"Now stop crying." Sombra pulls up her tracking screen again. "Or at least be quieter. I can't hear myself think."

Out of fear for your life you do as the lady tells you, but not even a minute later...

"Ah. Finally. My work here is done."

You glance up only to notice the lady who helped you has completely disappeared.

"[Y/N]?" You hear Illari's voice in the distance. "[Y/N]!"

You stand up to greet her, but she nearly knocks you down with a charging hug.

"[Y/N]!" Kiriko follows suit, using her kitsune rush to pick you up and swing you around.

You're overwhelmed by the amount of attention you receive.

"Oh, sorry... maybe I shouldn't have done that."

You smile despite the anxiety. "It's okay."

"Hey! Good looking out, Illari!" The muscular girl you don't recognize runs up to you next. The petite girl isn't far behind, just like you saw them last.

There's two blinding flashes of blue light as another short, petite girl appears out of thin air. You thought she looked familiar... but there's no time to rack your brain right now.

"Oh, good! We all made it!" The petite girl– the one behind the muscular girl– cheers. "Wait, where's Sloan?"

You can hear loud, sprinting footsteps approach in the distance before everyone nearly gets knocked out of the way. "[Y/N]!!!"

They nearly knock you to the ground just as Illari had, only this time it was several times more intense. You feel their arms wrap around you in the tightest hug they've ever given you. You embrace them with relief flooding your tired brain. They hold the back of your head and nuzzle into your face as if they haven't seen you in years.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," They start crying. "Mi vida, I'm so, so sorry..."

"It's okay. I'm okay." You reassure them.

Everyone is quiet as the reunion takes place and you feel all the trauma of tonight drain from your being as you're held by the person who loves and cherishes you the most. Neither one of you wanted to be the one who pulls away.

"Well not to be a downer but it's about to start raining!" Someone spoke. It was the petite girl who flashed into existence.

"And I think the last band just got done with their set. It's nearly midnight." Kiriko adds with sadness.

"Well... while we're here, why don't we give [Y/N] back their stuff?"

Sloan pulls away long enough to grab your backpack from the muscular girl. "Thanks again, Brigitte."

You place it on to your back and all feels right in the world once more.

"No problem!" The muscular girl responds. So... her name is Brigitte.

"Well, we might as well introduce ourselves! I'm Hana!" The petite girl behind Brigitte chimes in. "Like the number one gamer in South Korea type Hana!"

"I'm Lena!" The girl who blinked into existence speaks up next. "Like the, umm... Tracer type Lena!"

That name rings a bell.

"Overwatch?" You question.

"Well, yes, but it's our off day today!" Lena replies.

"Wow." Is all you can say.

You feel your invisible mask beginning to slip. You're not sure how much longer you can take being out here before another anxiety episode occurs.

"I don't want to be rude, it's really nice to meet all of you." You turn to your beloved. "But... can we go home?" You ask, tired and ready to collapse.

"I think that would be the best idea for all of us. Tonight has been more than eventful!" Lena suggests.

From the shadows, Sombra watches as the group disperses after exchanging goodbyes. As soon as she was alone she picks up the empty soda bottle you accidentally left behind and tosses it into the trash.

"Hmph."

"Going soft?"

She can hear a mocking male voice on the end of the coms.

"Not now, Mauga."

"Haha! Thought so."

She simply just sinks back into the darkness she came from without a word.

✨💜JUNKRAT LE SSERAFIM STAN FOR LIFE 💜✨: so is anybody going to tell me what happened or am i going to have to make up the story myself (12:45 AM)

🧡 AF Traysi ⏱️: In the morning (12:52 AM)

✨💜 JUNKRAT LE SSERAFIM STAN FOR LIFE 💜✨: but it's morning in australia (12:52 AM)

🧡 AF Traysi ⏱️: Goodnight junkrat (12:53 AM)

👾: (is typing...)

#weeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!! dropping it at midnight again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #overwatch #overwatch 2 #venture x reader #venture x you #overwatch fanfiction #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #sloane cameron #sloan cameron #venture overwatch

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! Want to double check that I've done a decent job of avoiding disfiguremisia, and try to turn it into great counter to hatred instead of just an okay one.

Preface: I have a form of memory loss and likely brain damage so I cannot always phrase things clearly although I will try my best.

Personally I do not feel happy reading escapist stories as that happy ending is not achievable for real people. We don't get to live in a place that's completely safe and free from judgement. I'd like to write people in a hostile world who find love and safety and community, however this does necessite writing hostility. I want to make sure I'm doing so with care.

I would like to make sure that the hostility written as tension does not tar how I write how one of the main characters. He should be written with dignity and respect even when he is not being treated well by those around him.

One of my characters is blind and develops severe burn scars. He wears a blindfold to help with photophobia and sensory overwhelm, but takes it off when its dim. (CVI plus autism.)

While he does wear a cloth coverings in public due to ugly laws, he views it as a ridiculous requirement and happily removes this mask when with friends. He also enjoys that being visibly strange or somewhat unnerving to most people means that shallow people who judge by appearances avoid him.

Question: what other things might I be able to employ to counter disfiguremisia? I have him being content with his face as it tells a story of his life and he's a blunt, forward person, not covering his face for most of the story despite laws necessitating that he do so, and a few other things too (and many side characters with facial differences and deformities also).

Also none of the central plotlines centre around facial difference. He's joining a servant rebellion, befriending a bitter exile intent on status at all costs, and discovering the truth of history. (Also a mind controlling octopus being is involved and a semi sentient moon amalgam thing but don't worry about it everything's fine.)

I think later books will be a more effective counter due to lack of ugly laws and him finding a lovely interest. I will also do my best to make the counters feel real and feasible - I want it to feel like an achievable option for those who deal with prejudice in the real world. I want his happy ending to feel real.

I respect the hell out of escapist fantasies it's just that they do nothing for me personally. I really want to write someone dealing with a lot - more than I ever have - and coming out the other end happy. Yes this world is hostile and will judge me but I can find joy despite it all. Some say the world is universally cruel but I have not found this to be the case. It is wise to be wary but myself and friends can create small sections of time and space where no precautions are necessary. Am I not part of the world? Are not they? The world is not universally cruel as long as I and those I treasure live in and we are not extraordinary, simply uncommon, and what is uncommon is still a great bounty. (Something to that effect.)

I'm set on what I want to write but the specifics I'm more than happy to change in order to bring joy. Do you have ideas on how I can do this full idea full justice?

Hello,

before getting to your actual ask, I have a "few" questions about the premise of the story itself.

You mention that you don't like escapist fantasies - that's fair. Taste differs; you can write whatever and that's great. But I do find the insistence to write a story about a specific type of discrimination as an outsider rather strange. If you want to have facial difference representation, I assume you want to have readers with facial differences, correct? I mean, I don't think that many able-bodied people would be too interested in it specifically considering most don't know what it is. So okay, this is supposed to be a story of characters with facial differences overcoming centuries worth of hatred and all that. Arguably more, considering that disfiguremisia and ableism go all the way back to Biblical times.

Why are you the person who needs to tell this story?

Just as people with facial differences are readers, we can be authors as well. We tell our stories. I will take an #OwnVoices book over a one that isn't that any day, and this fact will influence the rest of this answer. I'm a firm believer in #NothingAboutUsWithoutUs and all when it comes to this stuff.

Have you talked to people with facial differences who would be interested in the kind of story you want to tell? Do you know what they want to see from an author that's not taking it from their own experience? I don't count here, because as I made clear before, I'm not and won't be interested in it. I also don't know anyone in the community who has ever said "I wish more people without our experiences wrote about how hard it is to be us!". You need to make sure there are people who want this.

So, have, or will you, reach out to those that could like it? Sensitivity readers, random people online who like to read about disfiguremisia in their free time, advocates who work on media-centric problems? Anyone who would enjoy it is automatically a better candidate to help than me. I'm too jaded, I suppose.

If you want to talk about people with facial differences in such detail and setting, you need to get to know us. One guy with a specific set of opinions from a blog on Tumblr isn't that (thank god), but I guess I can serve as a reminder that not everyone will be excited to read a book that represents them in some way. We still have preferences.

To write it, you need to involve yourself in the community, start actually spreading activism about our issues. Preach about Face Equality and celebrate when our once-a-year week happens in May. See what disfiguremisia causes. Share our efforts to get all the problematic garbage off the big screen. Read our stories. Understand us as people who are incredibly diverse, and that not all of us like to be described as strange or unnerving.

If you only want to talk about our suffering as some quota to fill on a "types of discrimination" list, it will always be flat and inauthentic, and if you don't put in the effort it's pointless. We don't want tragedy porn, and we don't need to be included in every story about struggles that just wants some brand-new type of bigotry in it. We want authors who care about us, the living and breathing people. And sometimes it might mean respecting our opinions on writing disfiguremisia.

Here is a great post by @writingwithcolor explaining the effects of tragedy exploitation. Not everything there applies, but I would consider it a very valuable read.

If you think about all this, and decide that you are ready to write such a heavy, community-based story, go ahead to...

Actual Answers! Hooray

what other things might I be able to employ to counter disfiguremisia?

Sympathize with him. Disfiguremisia is a tragedy, it's brutal and it hurts. It's traumatic and impossible to forget, even if it wasn't happening constantly just to remind us that it's still there. On this note, I would recommend you research writing characters with PTSD.

Have him think about it. Sometimes I get home after getting stared down on the street and just want to yell. You don't forget a microaggression or a hate crime after five minutes. Let him vent and let him be upset. He can have flashbacks or recall similar situations that happened in the past.

I'm glad that he's aware of disfiguremisia unlike a ton of characters who are somehow always unable to figure out that it's a problem. If the ableism he's facing is so systemic and severe, individual people will be even more extreme. You can have him remember that the shop owner was a slur-spitting bigot, or that his neighbors avoid even talking to him. I want him to call them out - in retrospective, at the moment, in his head, whatever - on what they're doing. Throw a "not this fucking thing again" or something in there.

The minimum is to make him feel like a human with an internal thought process, who is able to actually experience what's happening to him, and for it to have long-term effects.

Also, outside of the whole disfiguremisia thing and me being overdramatic, check out our #blindness tag, and research burn scar care. If you don't show the boring and mundane, it will only feel closer to tragedy porn; just a sad thing one after another.

I will also do my best to make the counters feel real and feasible - I want it to feel like an achievable option for those who deal with prejudice in the real world.

This I think is the part of the ask that made me the saddest, and not because of what you wrote. I tried to think of achievable ways; ways that we did it, tried to do it, and are doing it, and one-by-one I crossed them out as "didn't work", "no one cared enough" or "kinda worked but honestly, it didn't". Face Equality is basically non-existent, not matter how much it hurts me to admit it! We are trying our best, and it doesn't work. It's just plain hard for me to come up with suggestions for this.

In fiction, I suppose that personal resistance is the way when it comes to this. I don't think there are feasible systemic changes that could happen that don't border on magical thinking or get into the "singular glorious revolution that somehow fixes everything and everyone lived happy ever after. We fixed racism, yay!". This just sucks.He could try to educate the people who are willing to listen - that's somewhat what I'm trying to pull off here on this blog, I guess. Sometimes it works, often it doesn't, but in his situation it wouldn't hurt to try.

The fundamental part here will be whether your character is able to find a way to make the ordinary person care in the end. To me, society who still hates us just as much, with a small group that thinks we're okay isn't a happy ending. The opposite, rather. It's cold and isolating to know only your friends could value you as a human being, and downright sad to imply that we should be happy for that. I don't mean that everyone should love us in every story, but there's a difference between The Ableism being represented by an antagonist or two versus the entire world except for the main characters.

If you decide to go forward with this story, I do hope your other readers with facial differences enjoy it!

mod Sasza

[This ask was submitted before my announcement of not taking questions regarding this subject matter. As of publishing this, it still applies.]

#mod sasza #anonymous #face difference #disfiguremisia #tw ableism #long post

[ahimhere]

All Day

genre: smut

pairing: slightdom!Yunhoxfem!reader

au/summary : What's wrong with spending all day with your boyfriend

waring: explicit smut, swearing

rating: 18+

wc: 1115

"The day isn't over yet baby, you can do it right?"

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

waring: somnophilia (consensual), dacryphilia, praise kink, oral (m, f), pentrantion (d in v), unprotected sex (or don't ), multiple rounds, fingering, nipple play, creampie, hickeys, bitting, ear kissing/licking, begging, pet names( baby, babe, good girl), overstimulation, shower sex, dry orgasm, deep throat (honestly how many more could i add?), doggy, ass slapping

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

9:45am- You awoke to licking sounds. A wetness was felt between your legs, huge hands on your hips, and a wide tongue licking up your slit. You threw the covers to discover your boyfriend, Yunho, face buried between your legs, pleasuring you while you slept.

"Yunho...What are you-"

Two long and slender fingers entered your mid sentence, causing you to moan loudly. He worked his fingers, in and out of you, while his tongue flicked your sensitive bud furiously.

The moans were never ending. They only got louder as he fingered you, curling them ever so slightly to reach the rough spot inside you. You grabbed onto his black locks as your toes curled up, your orgasam fast approaching.

Yunho felt your climax approaching due to the squeezing of his fingers. He stopped his licking and switched to sucking on your clit, finally pushing you over the edge. You moaned out loudly, your legs starting to shake from the intensity.

He sat up, face covered in your juices and smiled. "We're not done yet."

11:23 am - The bacon was burning, you tried to turn off the stove but he just lifted you leg onto the counter and continued to thrust into you.

"Fuck! Yunho you're too deep...Let me turn the stove off..." You muttered out between moans, hoping to reason with the 6-foot giant behind you.

"Too deep baby? You know you can take it." He leaned down, turned off the stove, and began planting kisses on your neck while holding your hips in place to continue his thrusts. You threw your head back, unable to escape his unwavering thrusts.

With his free hand, Yunho ran his hand up your shirt and began rubbing your nipple between his fingers. Pulling on the bud before flicking it repeatedly.

"AH! Yunho, Yunho, babe I'm gonna cum..Fuck please babe I'm gonna cum..." You moaned out.

Yunho groaned into your ear and thrusted harder inside you, his climax approaching as well.

"I'm cumming inside baby. Hold it in, okay. Be good for me and hold it in baby."

He groaned out as he came inside of you, filling you up. The warmth of his cum and the twitching of his dick allowed you to cum as well. You threw your head back, looking back at him when you came.

1:36pm - "Yunho, I can't cum again.." The moaning was unending.

"Of course you can baby." He rubbed your clit, slow circular positions paired well with his slow, deep thrusts into you. "Just watch the show."

He had you riding him on the couch, your bare back pressed against his bare chest. Many hickeys covered your neck and chest. He licked your ear, your body shivered at his touch. Everything was sensitive at this point. You weren't sure how many times you've come today.

"Can we stop after this baby..." You cried out, begging him to agree.

"The day isn't over yet baby, you can do it right?" He spoke in your ear. "My baby can do it right? Go all day. You're my good girl right."

He knows you loved it when he called a good girl. You loved being praised by him, being told you're doing good. The way he spoke to you made you dizzy. You nodded.

You turned your head to lock lips with him. He smiled in the kiss. He leaned back against the couch to thrust better. He rubbed both your clit and your nipple.

You could only moan into his lips as you came. A few thrusts later he filled you up, his cum dripping out of you and onto the couch.

4:05pm - Water only added to the lewd sounds coming out both you and Yunho's mouth. He was holding you up against the shower wall, both legs draped over his arm as he pounded into him.

You bit his shoulder, the pleasure starting to become unbearable. Your orgasams were nearly back to back now, you weren't sure how much longer you could hold up.

"Yunho... no more...I can't..."

"I know, baby. You're doing so well. So well baby." He groaned out, he was close to cumming. "Keep going for me baby...One more okay, baby...ugh.."

He pounded into you, the slapping sounds of your bodies were only fueling him. He slapped deep into you, once again filling you up. You couldn't cum again, your body could only shake, imitating an orgasm.

8:52pm - "Is it too big for you?" You shock your head.

Wrapping your hand around his dick, you moved your hand along with your mouth, bobbing up and down.

He moaned out, the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue felt heavenly to him.

"That's it baby...Keep doing that..." He groaned.

You are convinced to suck him off, only getting faster. Yunho groaned out loudly, he didn't want you to stop, hell he hoped you never did.

After a couple more strokes, you removed your mouth, but continued to move your hand. Before he could protest, you wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking roughly, while running your tongue along his slit.

Yunho could only moan loudly. "Fuck baby! Yes! Fuck...Keep going."

This time you did, pumping your hand faster, and sucking his pink tip hard. His moans only grew louder and louder. He grabbed your head and shoved you down his length as he shot his load down your throat. He shook violently before letting your head go, falling back into the chair.

11:45pm - His tight grip on your hips and he fucked you from behind was the icing on the cake.

"Look at my baby taking my dick. Taking all of me. Such a good girl." He slapped your ass. "Aren't you a good girl?"

"Fuck yes!" He slapped your ass again, his thrusts only quicking in intensity.

"Who's my good girl?" He asked.

"I am! I'm your good girl!" You weren't sure what you were saying, the words just falling off your tongue at this point. You could only feel your climax approaching.

"And who do you belong to?" Yunho leaned down, taking one his hands to rub your clit, causing you to tighten against his dick.

"Yours Yunho! All yours Yunho!"

"Good. Cum with me baby. I'm so close. I'm going to fill you up one more time..." He groaned in your ear. You could only nod as you knew you were on the edge.

A few more sloppy thrusts from him before he came inside you. You moaned as you came with him. You collapsed onto the bed, him on top of you, holding himself up as not to crush you.

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

AHHHAHHH i know this isn't part of my WIP but i had this idea so BOOM

Thank you for reading!!!

Masterlist

#ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez hard hours #yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunho scenarios

[smilingbuckley]

Okay, so the

Make me write

Post a few weeks ago helped me a lot with writing and working on fics I probably would've otherwise abandoned. And now I am once again in a writing slump. Soooo I wanna ask you to send an ask with emojis and I'll write a paragraph for each emoji :)

* anonymous asks are turned off, sorry for that but it is to protect myself *

And you can send as many as you want!! Let's see if we can get me to finish one! (Or a chapter)

This time I added a few more WIPs that I either have to rewrite or haven't starter yet but desperate want to.

👶 magically deaged Buck (a witch puts a spell on Buck so now he's a little kid again and Bathena raises him as they try to figure out how to remove the spell.) Bathena, Buddie, multi chapters, 3 chapters already posted back in october, working on chapter 4

💪 self defense fic (s2 AU. Buck got mugged and loses faith in his safety, so Bobby introduces him to Eddie who will teach him self defense. Not Buck isn't just struggling with feeling unsafe but also with finding Eddie, a stranger, attractive) gonna be a longer fic, I think about 3-4K is written? Will be a single chapter.

🫃 Omegaverse fic (Buck always believed he was a beta but then after mating with Eddie, am Alpha, he starts feeling strange. With the help of Bobby, he figures out that his parents lied to him and did an illegal surgery on him when he presented as an Omega to block any Omega hormones. Buck worries because Eddie only dated betas before him and they never talked about having children) Know this is not everyone's cup of tea since it's both onegaverse and mpreg. Not started yet though I have a snippet written down somewhere in my notes. It's about time I write this.

❤️‍🔥 reunion smut (Eddie had been in El Paso for a few months and comes back earlier to surprise Buck) I've had this in the works for months and still haven't finished it, oops? I'm at the smut part soooo I feel like I could finish this soon?

💕 Buck coming out to Chris - idk how I still haven't finished this one, it's supposed to be short lol

👨‍👧 Buck finds out he has a daughter - idk if it will be multiple chapters but it definitely will be a longer fic. I hope around 30k?

👨‍⚕️ Dr. Eddie fic - I love hospital aus so I'm not sure why I haven't written much for it. Maybe I'll end up rewriting what I have and hope it will get my inspo back?

👨‍❤️‍👨 fake dating fic - and the award to the longest wip I have goes to... no not really, the high school au took me longer to finish. Idk why I haven't written much for this because I love the story and it's been in my mind for sooo long. I just need inspiration

💛 Bobby & Buck fic - well, it's also Buck & Chris & Eddie and Buddie. Basically, they respond to a heavy call with a kid that hits hard. Of course Buddie check up on Chris, but Bobby also feels the need to be close to Buck

🧩 Puzzle fic - sweet and fluffy. Eddie gives Buck a puzzle, which confused Buck because Eddie knows that with Buck’s adhd, he's barely capable of spending 10 minutes on it. Even worse, there's no reference picture. Buck sees it as a challenge and slowly works on it, his curiosity getting the better of it. - not started yet

There are a few wips I almost added to this but then I would really be working on too many at once. Soo... once I finish one or two of these, maybe I'll tease them or add them to a post like this. (It's a PTA dads au and a whumpy fic based on a the rookie episode... honestly makes me want to reconsider not doing whumptober this year because it would be perfect)

Might take some time answering all asks, depends on how I'm feeling. Also might not answer in the order of asks sent, BUT I will try to answer everything over the next days

Taglist

@buddieswhvre @diazsdimples @tizniz @steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @jesuiscenseedormir @loveyouanyway @chaosandwolves @mattsire @mel-vaz @inkmortal-trash389 @princess-of-the-snake-pit @nilletellsstories @laundryandtaxesworld @specialbrownieeater @m1kayu @bidisasterevankinard

#911 #evan buckley #buddie #eddie diaz #911 fanfic #buddie fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #911 abc #911 on abc

[brown-little-robin]

I should just be given money without having to write emails and grant applications about it plz nd thnk you

#Robin processes emotions on main #my poor honors capstone project whyyyyy did I sign up for this self publication nonsense #it may be time to....... rethink.......... everything #SIGH #I'm so stressed out about this actually I would love to just give up on that part of the process but idk if it would break my contract #WHY AM I INVOLVED IN CONTRACTS NOW!!! #I UNDERSTAND HOW CHARACTERS WHO HAVE DEVIL CONTRACTS FEEL NOW #it's ok I'm just being dramatic #I'm sure everything will turn out okay in the end #worst case scenario: I fail the honors capstone project and lose my 2 credits and have to graduate a semester late in the SUMMER #actually that's pretty bad #but would it matter in five years?? prrrrobably not

[keeps-ache]

went skating and ending up in a ditch eating grass 👍👍

#just me hi #i always flop the second time i try a hill i fvsh #i'm still getting used to skating again cuz it's been like. forever so #/so i was turning after i'd gone down the hill #and i knew there was gravel at the end of the drive bc i had almost eaten asphalt earlier too (lmao) #so i was too spooked to turn too tightly and then before i knew it i saw the muddy ditch in front of me and the thought process went thus: #not turning fast enough- nudge- nudge- not turning fast enough- okay funk me- and then i just accepted my fate 6 whole seconds before i eve #hit the grass hfvhs #though i Did time it well enough so only my skates ended up in the mud and my face ended up in the dry dry grass #and then i roll up to our car wondering why i wasn't getting scolded for not turning fast enough (very helpful..) and it turns out #Nobody Saw Anything #my glorious face-plant. all for naught #sure it was a little embarrassing but nobody even saw it. smh #i Do bounce back fast though so maybe they thought i was playing in the grass or something hvfhsf #i got grass on. everything again hfsbhd #//well. with all this i am now sneepy #i'm going to. play a game now #'why don't you draw' i am. sneepy #also the Game is in my brain now so hfhs :3 #wwehheeow bYe

[poisoncupids]

say what u want about it but jiper really is for people who didn't know they were gay until after the majority of their teen years

#jason grace #piper mclean #jiper #heroes of olympus #jiper stans i'm sorry for putting this in your tag. and sorry about the rest of the tags you're about to read #please look away if u believe they truly love each other i don't want to step on ur sandcastles #but anyway #the literal years i spent picking and choosing my crushes rather than just having them. i see u jiper. #something about !! if a goddess had tampered with my memories and told me i was supposed to be dating a boy i would have thrown myself into #it headfirst too. and that goes both ways!! #i love jiper so bad bc it's not even a beard situation it's just that no one has ever told my poor little meow meows that They themselves #could be gay. the representation we (i) needed. #and this is why. in the universe where it happens. nico changes jason's life so bad #he thinks he's finally figured out who he is #only to have it all turned around when he discovers what a crush is *supposed* to feel like. and that that's what he feels for nico #and sure it hurts to be stuck finding himself *again* after everything #but at the other end of that journey he's in a truer form #one that sits more comfortably in his own skin #okay. shutting up bc this is a fic now. #this post went jiper -> personal information i didn't need to share -> jasico #always back to fawking jasico. when will the gay people in my brain leave me alone!!!!

[radioromantic-moved]

damn that space rpg time loop video game that i was so excited about has two of the four female love interests (my favorite two)‏‏‎ ‎break up with you in the end no matter what and they're literally the only ones who do that. oh but there's a "secret" one who you can date if you flirt with her (an adult) while you are a teenager. cool 😐

#i'm still going to buy the game because everything else about it still seems so perfect for me #but ngl i am Really Fucking Sick of game devs favoring male romances over female ones #even if this isn't 'favoring' them per se it's still like. shutting you out of a happy ending with some characters for no reason #'it's supposed to be a commentary about teenage relationships not lasting forever' #okay but why can you have relationships that last forever with. checks notes. #100% of the male characters and 50% of the female ones #and also i'm sorry maybe i'll like them when i play the game but MULTIPLE male love interests seem like total assholes #but sure they get the functional healthy relationships forever. #christ. i'm sure this wasn't purposeful on the part of the devs but #why is it sooooo fucking impossible to be a lesbian who likes romance features in video games. #there's SOOOO much out there for straight women and straight men #and even comparatively a lot for gay men #and the lesbians get. a couple of super niche visual novels and the multi-gender stuff #which nearly always pushes you towards the guys! CASE IN POINT! #sorry i guess this turned into a rant but i've been thinking about this for a while #not to be the Angry Lesbian i'm just feeling sad and let down #i guess i am posting this on a literal self ship blog i can rewrite the endings if i really hate them #and i'm really invested. it's just annoying to me that they even made that choice! #and it dampens my enjoyment for a game i was literally daydreaming about. so that sucks. #congrats if you read this far lol <3 #nyx on comms

[baekuras]

also bc i am depressed currently not stressed and hateful of the job market and my mum who thinks it's really important that at my job we get a 13th month salary (split between november and june so if you leave at all ever you'll miss out on half anyway lmao) so i was doing some math on hourly pay

13th month included is 18€ per hour not included we are at 16€ per hour

maximum hourly pay if i was working there for well over a decade at my current job level gives an increase of 3€ per hour

if i had a masters and did 2 extra sectors beyond what i already work for it'd be an overall increase of 4€ per hour (from current pay) and 6€ with the whole over a decade of experience working for the same company no breaks between (if i'd switch companies for any reason it'd drop down to the base pay again :D) (and yes i did the math like 5 times because that seems way too fucking low even for what i assumed???) (someone tell me what a decent payrise hourly or otherwise should be for working for a company for oVER A DECADE masters or not? bc this surely can't be it??? no this company doesnt do pay negotiations at ALL)

anyhow if you wanna become an optician do like a 6 week training to become sales staff so you'll get around the same amount of money for much less responsibilities

people without a degree make 300€ less in the first year, and 90 to 190 less in the 9th+ years btw ✌ tbh good for them but i'm also not sure why i even bothered knowing all this (thats 2€ less per hour btw with 5 out of 7 tasks simply not being available to them) (this is about as much if not less as you make working at Aldi here, just without doing retail for a full store ofc)

which-again, good for them but the incentive to get any degrees is kinda shit considering even the jobs with degrees don't pay better or have better conditions than the ones without so i'm not sure why we keep acting like that's the case for everything (pls do study to become like a doctor or lawyer tho)(but a lot of jobs don't need you to go through a wholeass program for you to be able to work at them)

#txts #i need these numbers somewhere to hold me accountable to leave at LEAST before i fucking turn 30 #jfc i'm turning 25 this year #i am not panicking fully time wise but i am a creature of habit and am sad about throwing away literal unuseable objects #even if i never owned them myself #i threw away a broken case yesterday and was sad about it #i have never even seen it before holding it in my hand to put it into the trash #so.....leaving PEOPLE and some i LIKE is hard okay #btw getting the actual numbers took me like 20 fucking minutes #bc while everything is online and accesible #we do shit via teams and such #and its always so fucking sLOW and hard to work with i hate it #shoutout to our payraise this year of...100€ per month #i keep forgetting about it bc thats an extra 60bucks in the end #which is nice sure #but also a bit laughable with how much of an act they made this out to be

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for getting my best friend killed?

I swear to God, it was an accident.

My (27) BF (34) has a reputation for getting himself out of any jam you can imagine; and at first it was just a fun little thing the friend group noticed: there goes Oily J wiggling his way out of trouble again. but as the meme evolved in the group, it got to the point where we'd loykey started getting him into situations just to see how he'd get out of 'em, and he akept getting out of em. He was having fun with it too same as us. "Oh you guys," he'd say, "getting me into situations again," before laughing it off and getting out of it, so it was enrichment for our shared enclosures, and as time went on, the situations got more intense.

The trouble is, it turns out that putting a man in too many situations eventually gets the police interested. And not local hobsknockers cops either; they was like, proper three-letter FEDs. They put out a bounty on any information pertaining to his capture and everything. It was good money too so I thought, hey why don't I put J in another situation he can wiggle out of like always (and he'd wiggled outta worse before, so I thought this one'd be relatively mild), and at the next boardgame night (cause it was too late to do anything special for this one) we can buy some extra strong booze and get absolutely blitzed while having a giggle about the situation.

Boardgame night, and we were playing some social deduction nonsense or another and he says: "One of you is gonna betray me tonight." and I can't help but think, looking back on it, that he knew. It's stupid, I know he was talking about the game, but the way he said it, it was like he knew. We all felt it, and we had a big round robin round the table taking turns promising that we'd never betray him. And I said it so easily cause I thought it was true. Sure, I was gonna talk to the feds about a bounty; but, I fully expected my big beautiful oily boy to wiggle his way out of the trouble I was 'bout to cause, and that's not a betrayal. I wasn't lying. I didn't think I was lying.

My big beautiful oily boy didn't manage to wiggle his way out of it. They killed him and I got my blood money. He's gone.

He's gone and I'm devastated, crying, mourning. I loved him so much. We all did. And I can't stop thinking that it's my fault: that I'm the reason he's gone. and it is. and the guilt is eating me up inside. and I just need to talk to someone about it. So, I tell the rest of the group what happened in the group chat, hoping they'd understand that I didn't want this. I didn't want the government's blood money. It was supposed the be a prank. some joint enclosure enrichment. He was supposed to wiggle out of it like he always does... did, i mean.

They call me, among worse things, the asshole and kick me from the group chat. And, I know it's my fault he's dead: I know that. If I didn't do what I did, he wouldn't be dead right now. But, I didn't mean it for it to end up this way. He was supposed to be okay, damn it. I loved him. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #fandom aita #unreality #i never know how to tag the bible ones #also i don't think this is explicitly jesus christ superstar but for some reason it put me in mind of it #so that's where the extra option is from idk #specifically in my head is one particular production of it that a friend showed me when we were like. 17 #anyway i'm in love with how this one plays with modern language #good enough to post on purpose

[luveline]

spencer one shot where he’s angry at somebody else [bc he so does look so kissable when he’s angry >:(] maybe someone at one of the precincts they’re working at said something rude about r and he defends u and maybe he gets a lil kiss <3

im thinking “this is calm and it’s doctor” vibes bc that scene does things to me 😭

ty for requesting ♡ fem, 1.1k

cw for sexual harassment

"Jesus," Spencer says, rushing to stand behind you as you bend over. 

"Mm?" you hum. You're fishing for your dropped change unsuccessfully by the precinct vending machines. "They have your chips, did you see?" 

"Your pants are ripped," Spencer says, hand ghosting your thigh. 

"What?" you ask, shooting up. You turn on the spot to hide, hand leaping back. You feel at the seam. "Where?" 

"Top of your thigh." 

"Shit, really? Can you see my–" 

"Yeah," he says, meeting your wide eyes while you locate the rip. "How did you do that?" He laughs. 

"Don't laugh!" you demand, though you're giggling as you do, hand covering your thigh and the bottom of your butt inefficiently. 

"Do you want my jacket?" 

"Don't cover it up, toots." 

You and Spencer both blink. There's a crowd of grinning beat cops by the door of the cafeteria who've obviously witnessed your misdemeanour. "Toots?" Spencer asks. 

"Sorry, boys, that's the end of the show," you say with a grin. Not because you particularly enjoy having been oggled, but it's always been like this. Men will always make weird comments to you, and you've learned to play nice until they're out of your jurisdiction. 

"Turn back around," one says bravely, though you aren't sure which one. 

Spencer stands in front of you subtly. "Do you know that thirty eight percent of women experience sexual harassment in the workplace?" he asks, quick but measured. "Thirty eight percent, but I'm sure a much smaller number of those women are federal agents, and a smaller number again have the capacity to break your arm. I've seen her give serial killers radial fractures. I've seen her do worse." 

"We were just messing around," one says. 

"No need to get defensive," says another. "Don't get mad, boy." 

"I am defensive, but I'm not mad."

His tone attracts the attention of a precinct sergeant who barks at them to stop messing around and get back to work. "Were they bothering you?" he asks after they've filtered out with their heads down. 

"No," you say swiftly. "Everything's fine." 

Spencer frowns, worse when the sergeant leaves, turning to you to take your hand. A few weeks ago at a company picnic, when the sun was high and your spirits comparatively lower, you'd apologised to him for flirting. You love to flirt and especially with him, puppy eyed Spencer with his head of brown hair and his big brain, but some of the team suggested you were taking it too far. You apologised, but Spencer didn't really get what you were saying sorry for and took your hand to lead you out of the sun. He protects you. 

"You okay?" he asks. 

"I'm fine." 

"You sure?" His voice fries. 

"I'm sure," you say. His hand is an interesting thing on yours. He has long, long fingers that seem to possess their own willpower, moving even as they're sewn through yours. "I don't know what to do about my pants." 

Spencer's eyebrows pinch together. "Well, I'll take care of that. I'll find you something. I can't believe those as–" 

"Oh," you interrupt, taking your hand back in want of a better thing to hold, his cheek a mix of soft and scratchy against your palm. "You're still mad." 

"I'm not mad," he insists, though eventually he relents, "Alright, I'm angry that they'd think it was okay to objectify you." 

"What else?" you ask, letting your voice drop in pitch, the sound smooth as angora silk. 

"I'm thinking about if I hadn't been here." 

"I can protect myself," you murmur, endeared by the heat in his gaze. "You said it yourself, handsome. Radial fractures." 

"You shouldn't have to." 

"We both already know that," you say, the side of your hand slipping down his cheek reverently. He squints gently, his lashes dark triangles, his irises a browned sugar. His jaw clenches under your touch. "You're handsome." 

"Right now?" he asks dryly. 

"Are you handsome right now?" 

"Are you really flirting with me right now?" 

"Why wouldn't I be?" You draw a line under his ear whisper soft to curl a longer strand of his hair around the tip. "You look hot when you're winning." 

"What did I win?" he asks, like he doesn't want to know. 

You grin at him, stickying. "Would you like an itemised list?" you ask, rising on tiptoes to speak into the shell of his ear. "What do you think you deserve, handsome? For such a fearless defence?" 

He's not immune to your whims, but he is used to them, planting his hands on your shoulders to ease you back on sure footing. "I don't want anything. I'll always defend you." 

"Can I give you a small token of my gratitude, at least?" 

His pinking cheeks practically emanate heat. "We don't have time for this," he says regretfully, "I still have to find you a coverup." 

"Just a small token," you say. 

He hums and haws. "Alright. Okay, whatever you want." 

"You sure?" 

He nods once, his jaw working with something unsaid. You touch his neck, fingertips trailing along the underside of his jaw until you're sure it's what he wants before you brace your hands behind his head and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, close enough that the corner of his lips align with yours but don't overlap. His neck is hot in your hands, his hair soft, his breath hooking as you lift your lips just a touch and your nose digs into his cheek. "Thank you, Spencer," you whisper. 

He pulls you closer. 

You shudder as his hand presses into the small of your back, wondering what it is he wants to do. His fingers spread. Your thoughts turn to white noise. Like he can sense it, he breathes out and steps away, but any sense of urgency is gone. 

"As much as I might tease, I really do need some pants," you say. "I'm not very interested in anyone else seeing my panties today." 

He rushes off to find you something and you press the backs of your fingers to your cheeks, feeling the heat there with a resigned embarrassment. He has no idea how much power he has over you, in his stony anger and his eager reception. The phantom of his hand warms your back until he returns, his sweater in hand. "Sorry, this is it." 

"If you want me to wear your clothes, just say so." 

"Hotch is pretty pissed at us." 

"Ah," you sigh, tying his sweater around your waist, "another day in paradise, baby." 

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