#i love ao3 it's my safe space when im down and need good fics to placate myself

[sapphroditewrites]

Introduction Post!/DNI List

Hi, my name is aurora, im 24, and i have a full time job sooo unfortunately frequent fic updates/posts aren’t a guarantee. but i do love to write, and i find the time to do it when i can! My pronouns are she/her and I identify as a lesbian. i grew up in south jersey and i live in philly now, so i curse like a sailor. my zodiac sun is capricorn, my moon is leo, my rising is virgo (for all u astrology hoes out there) and im INFP if that means anything to u (i dont understand it at all)

im part of the unholy trinity of bishova, we come up with silly little fic ideas that turn into full-length novels together. they’re the reason i write, and i lov them a lot. u should follow them (functionally-medicated and laurie-bishop) on here, if u want the full experience. if anything ever happened to them or if anybody ever hurt them emotionally or physically i would hunt that person down in a completely feral state, unaware of my surroundings or actions, and what follows is not for me to say or take blame for.

Here’s some links:

my linktr.ee, which is basically all of these in one place except my ao3 bc minors follow me on tiktok and i... dont want them reading my fics or at least i dont wanna know abt them reading my fics lol

my main blog (desktop link)

My Twitter (until the rat man ruins it for good, this is the main place for my madness)

My ao3 (Please note that due to my deep fear of ai stealing my shit, all of my fics are only accessible to ao3 users; i will not be posting them anywhere else.)

And yes, my tiktok. (it’s literally just shitposts, mostly bishova)

DM’s and Ask Box are open for questions, comments, etc! Don’t be shy to ask about anything, I’m an open book and I give very mid advice. (if u are looking for romantic advice please know most of my exes cheated on me and i have deeply rooted emotional issues. so my advice will be ‘break up’ or ‘just ask them out the worst they can say is no’. if those are not the answers u seek i am not ur love doctor) I’m not taking requests for fics, but i’m down for discussion for ideas and i might even end up writing something! If I do, I’ll ofc refer to the post(s) and give credit where it’s due. Or if it’s a blurb/drabble I’ll just respond in the ask.

You DO NOT have permission to share/steal my work onto other platforms unless it’s for the sole purpose of promoting the fic itself. For example, if you like to share links to your favorite fics on a tumblr or discord, that’s fine. You cannot claim it as your own, nor do I want anything read in a recorded space or shared with any cast/crew/whatever. (It makes me uncomfortable, and yes, this is something that has happened before lol.) Please and thank you x

OK DNI:

-if you write/read noncon/dubcon and dead dove fics, i have a lot of really negative views and putting them all here will just make my teeth itch

-if you’re a minor, please dni with my 18+ content!!!!!! I realize I can’t prevent y’all from coming here or reading my fics but i dont need to hear about it! im happy ur reading my stuff, and im very grateful, but pls understand that as an adult it makes me uncomfy hearing abt it, and any normal adult should probably feel that way.

-however, if u are a minor and an adult on here is giving u some weird vibes this blog is very much a safe space to talk abt them, i am very here for u, idc who they are or who you are, i do not tolerate adults taking advantage of kids in any way shape or form and i will go full mama bear mode

-terfs and maps/p*dos and other similar degenerates stay far the fuck away. i am not above publicly shaming you, and i am really really good at swinging and hitting low. i will bring up ur dead relative and im going to talk abt fucking ur mom. if ur mom is dead ill talk abt fucking ur dad. i dont care.

-lemme reiterate, TERFS are NOT ALLOWED. i specifically hate you so deeply, so intensely, my breasts ache with rage at the thought of being able to verbally or physically smack one of you bitches into the dirt. on this blog we respect the FUCK out of pronouns and gender identity and if u can’t vibe with that i genuinely think u are actual garbage, u are subhuman to me, if god asked me to recreate the caste system you would be at the bottom and i would get off to watching you suffer.

-i am once again repeating dead dove accounts stay far away from me. i dont go out of my way to be a bitch to you directly, so i am just asking you do the same for me. i do think we can hate each other and co-exist, unlike me and the terfs. 

(random shit about me below the cut line. im sorry, it’s best u just find out i am literally insane right off the bat)

i work at a small coffee shop that’s also a chocolate/ice cream store (i will not be writing a coffee shop au, unless it’s for one of the unholy trinity or someone who has a plot idea that will make me overlook writing my job in fanfic). i do actually think i am the hottest person in the room most of the time, and the funniest at least half of the time.

My hobbies include complaining, playing ps4 or my nintendo switch (please tell me if u play ACNH, i had to get a new switch and my whole ass island was deleted. i need some fucking iron nuggets please im begging on my knees), and playing chess on chess dot com. (yes, im single, thank u for asking). i can play a weird variety of instruments but not well. I rewatch glee every other month, and twilight every month. i can recite the entire first 20-30 mins of the emperor’s new groove from memory, and also most of yzma’s lines. i have a lot of love for satire and adult cartoons, meaning i will unironically defend south park (but my favorite adult cartoons are bob’s burgers, king of the hill, and futurama) my favorite color is pink, my favorite singers are Amy Winehouse & Taylor Swift (and i could write an entire essay on their lyrical geniuses, musical styles, and what songs of theirs i think go together perfectly). my favorite food is potatoes, my favorite animals are bears (specifically the spectacled bear), and my favorite flowers are pink japanese camellias. now you know the most intimate details of my personality. holy shit are you still reading. bro i just put this here because i thought it would be funny. i ddin’t even think someone would read this post. damn u must really wanna know abt me huh. ok well my favorite alcoholic drink is some goddamn jim beam bourbon or whiskey over a lot of ice. close second is jack and coke. i’m on antipsychotics so i can’t get drunk often, and when i do it’s after 2 drinks. i can’t take nyquil because it aggravates my mental issues. i am allergic to pollen, tree nuts, and literal spiders and mosquitoes (their bites give me rashes that look like im dying of some rare disease). i have 8 tattoos. i do 2000 crunches a day. i can hold a plank for 2 mins and 33 seconds. (learning margot robbie can do this for 4 mins has awakened something very competitive in me). i can hold the flex arm hang for so long i get bored and have to stop. holy shit dude ur still reading? jesus chirst. i can read tarot cards. i can read runestones. i’ve had the same nightmare/dream since i was 7, in different angles / places / scenarios, but always the same universe. i read wiki articles for fun and it’s not even about cool things like ww1 or the geneva convention. i have 2 older brothers that i love. we are the same people. my mom is my favorite person. she is why my brothers and i are Like That. my stepdad gave me good taste in film and women. my stepmom’s life is more interesting than mine or yours ever will be. my dad is slowly becoming a swifty, but he’s also unfortunately starting to fall down the right-wing pipeline and it’s a mega fucking bummer dude. thanks, joe rogan. i can do a not good kermit the frog impression but by god will i keep doing it. if im not in film for writing or directing then im going for acting bc at the end of the day at least im cute and funny. i am fully convinced i could kick ben shapiro’s ass. i am also fully convinced i could kick joe rogan’s ass. i play chess so that if i am for whatever reason challenged by andrew tate, i can humiliate him and make him fucking weep. and i also just like it and have been playing it my entire life. i am a certified pothead and stoner, and i vibe heaviest w the sober ppl at parties. speaking of parties and bars, i am the drunk white girl in the bathroom that tells you you look beautiful, sometimes while sobbing. speaking of sobbing, i cry really easily watching movies and tv shows, and i have gotten really good at holding it back just enough so i get that cheryl blossom style single tear down the cheek for a bit. i can cry on command, and my form of self-defense is barking (and now ppl are starting to do it on tiktok so it feels less original but it also feels good knowing that it’s so fucking effective) ok dam if u really read all this ur fucking nuts dude kudos to u tho. i am literally actually insane though fr fr like not in a cute way literally in a ‘what is wrong with u’ way. lots of things is the answer. 

#intro post #dni list #ummmmm this is probably fine #im old i dont care about formatting im sorry #i tried to make it as not ugly as possible while still making it slightly jarring so that it's read #also important to mention i have a touch of mental spice so sometimes my fics will be Fucking Sad #Sorry About That #i will try to keep the existentialism to a minimum

[stanknotstark]

Do you post any of your work on ao3? And if not do you think you ever would?

I do not 😭 I wanted to make an Ao3 account but idk how the invite thing works? Do you just sign up and they send you one or do you have to get an invite from someone who has an account? idk how it works otherwise i would totally post there...

#ask answered #bamboozled-corvid #not marvel #i love ao3 it's my safe space when im down and need good fics to placate myself #ive been using ao3 for years #started with fanfic.net then switched over when i realized ao3 fits my style more #that and my favorite writers on tumblr where all on ao3 too #i have posted fics on fanfic.net but NO ONE will ever see those #i dont even remember my account so i cant delete them #the site is going down anyways so i dont think i need to worry

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Healing

Prompts: So I’ve recently binged all your SS fics practically and I know you SWAMPED in prompts, but if this sounds like something you could enjoy creating I’d love to request a promt as well:

Set in your SS Butterfly Project, could we maybe get Virgil reacting to all the sides (specifically L and Ro) learning to heal, and bouncing between helping sooth everyone’s anxiety over all the changes? I’d just love under appreciated Virgil helping in the moments in between the healing process if that makes any sense…

I appreciate the he*l out of you regardless if you take this prompt or not; and you deserve all the kindness the world has to offer you. ❤️ - mylgbtbabies

I would take any fic where somethigns off and virgil knows it. Someone: Im sure its fine!! Virgil: Idk man Im anxiety my spooder sense be tingly. - anon

If you're taking requests for Sanders Sides uwu can I ask for something Virgil-centric? I just love the emo boy - anon

ahh yes the babes

Read on Ao3

Warnings: ngl this one's pretty much fluff

Pairings: DLAMP, LAMP, DLAMPR, that found family

Word Count: 3538

Healing: To restore to health or soundness; cure.

Healing: To ease or relieve (emotional distress).

* * *

Healing isn’t a linear process.

It’s messy, it’s hard, and no one should expect it to be anything otherwise. Humans are complicated, more often than not brains are absolute garbage, and trying to navigate everything on your own is difficult. Really difficult.

So is learning how to ask for help.

Virgil sighs and leans back against the couch as Roman continues to type on his laptop. He risks a glance up at Princey to see his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. Every so often he’ll quirk his eyebrow in the way that means he just made a hilarious typo and has to go back. Virgil hides a smile as he turns his attention back to his phone. Can’t intrude too much on the process, that’s not how it works. He glances up to make sure no one’s coming down the stairs and shifts his weight again.

“Are you alright?”

There’s Roman, taking care of everyone else first. “I’m good, Princey, just trying not to fuck up my spine.”

“…do you want to come sit up here with me? I won’t mind.”

Virgil cranes his neck back, letting a slow and lazy smile come across his face. “Nah, ‘m good right here. You just make with the typey typey, okay?”

Roman smiles too, victory achieved. “Okay.”

“That’s my Princey.”

Virgil isn’t humble enough to not feel the little rush of pride at seeing a quick flush spread to Roman’s ears as he turns his attention back to his laptop. Suppressing a chuckle, he starts mindlessly scrolling again, getting sucked back into whatever’s contaminating his dash this time. What’s this about a k-drama…?

“Oh! There you are!”

Patton might not notice the way Roman startles, but Virgil does. He looks up and quickly shakes his head as Patton comes the rest of the way down the stairs.

“It’s work hours, Pat.”

“Oh, I thought—“ Virgil gives him a look that he knows Patton understands as Roman is setting the rules here, and he nods quickly— “well don’t mind me, I’m just getting a drink.”

Roman relaxes slightly as Patton bustles in and out of the kitchen, then a little more as Virgil reaches up to squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” comes the quiet mumble.

“I gotcha, Princey. Work hours are your thing, I’m happy to help.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, when Logan comes down the stairs carrying his computer, he takes one look at them in the living room before his mouth drops open slightly.

“Is it…work hours?”

“Mhm,” Virgil says, letting his head loll back, “you wanna join?”

“May I? I can be quiet as well.”

Virgil looks up at Roman. Roman glances up, smile softening when he sees it’s Logan, and gently pats the sofa next to him. Logan smiles too and yeah, okay, Virgil’s fine with his edge lord image fading slightly if it means he gets to be fond at watching these two nerds be gentle with each other.

The two of them start to type on their laptops, Logan’s constant murmurs of what he’s working on an amusing contrast to Roman’s silent yet expressive face. Virgil keeps the barrier there, warding off Janus and Remus when they try and drag the others into the dramatics—if anyone, especially Janus, tries to deny that he’s as much a part of it as Remus is, do not under any circumstances believe them—to keep the nerds safe.

After a while, when Virgil re-emerges from whatever deep dive he’s gone on this time—and yeah, he might be looking to pirate that k-drama, maybe—he realizes there’s no more typing. He looks up, a little concerned, only to be incredibly glad no one else is around to see him melt at the sight on the couch.

Roman’s laptop lies partially closed on his lap, the screen just touching the tops of his knuckles. His head and shoulders are angled toward Logan and his eyes are closed. Logan’s glasses are slipping slightly off his face, his head on Roman’s shoulder, eyes closed, lips parted slightly as his hair falls back into his face. His laptop has been set on the coffee table, somewhere safe.

Virgil shakes his head, standing and carefully taking Roman’s laptop from him. He saves whatever’s on it and sets it next to Logan’s. Then he takes the blanket from the back of the couch and carefully drapes it over the two of them. He slides Logan’s glasses from his face and undoes the top button of Princey’s collar. Can’t do for them to have a red mark, after all. And he sits back down to keep watch.

Sometimes, when they’re doing better, they ask for more. Roman comes to him sometimes and asks, very very quietly, but he does ask, for Virgil to come sit with him by his room. Virgil happily takes up residence in the warm spot in the hallway next to Roman’s room, right where the big windows are, soaking in the warmth from outside as Roman closes the door gently behind himself.

Something that everyone had to learn pretty quick once Logan and Roman started reaching out was that both of them are extremely private people. On the surface, it might seem like they’re different—and if they’re being honest, they certainly thought they were very different—but they aren’t. Not really. Roman hides behind being too much, Logan hides behind not being anything. Whether or not anyone actually knows them without any of the facades is up for debate.

Except each other. They…they…know each other.

Virgil would be lying if he said he isn’t a little jealous of how close the two of them have become. There are soft smiles they only have for each other now, little brushes of their hands against each other’s as a constant way of saying ‘I’m here, I see you, are you alright?’ And sometimes it’s Virgil’s job to sit outside one of their rooms as they try and hold each other steady.

Their company feels better than their solitude and it’s up to them to decide where that line is.

Today, Virgil’s just keeping an eye on Roman. Fielding off anyone who comes to knock on his door, glaring away the more persistent ones who don’t seem to understand that Roman needs his space right now, kindly fuck off. Logan comes around the corner and immediately understands and he sees them murmur quietly to each other when it’s time for dinner.

When he watches Logan, it’s a little harder. Because poor Logan is so used to pushing himself to the side to be able to make decisions, to help do things, that Virgil has to remind everyone involved that no, Logan’s enforced a boundary that means he doesn’t want to be disturbed right now, he’s allowed to do that, let’s leave him be for now. Left brain boys have to stick together.

But the others, to a certain extent, are easy. They care about Roman and Logan as much as Virgil does, and if it’s to help them, they’ll do whatever they have to. Protecting them from themselves…that’s another story.

Logan is too fucking good at pretending he’s fine. He’s too good at pretending he doesn’t have emotions, that he doesn’t care what’s going on unless it’s the absolute most illogical thing that’s happening. So, sometimes he has to work a little harder to get Logan to admit it.

“L,” he mutters as the others continue to argue, “check-in.”

“I’m fine.”

Janus shoots him a look as he continues to argue. Virgil tugs gently on Logan’s sleeve.

“No one’s gonna be mad if you say you aren’t, bud.”

Logan shakes his head firmly, eyes still trained on the way Patton and Janus are insisting that they’re the one right.

“Hey,” Virgil says softly, making them take a step back, “I need you to look at me, L.”

“What is the purpose of this?”

“You’re seizing up again.” Logan looks down at his hands, sees the way they’re shaking as Virgil gently runs a finger over the back of one of them. “It’s okay, bud, you’re gonna be fine, you just have to let yourself not be for a moment, okay?”

Logan risks a glance at the others but they haven’t noticed anything. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. Judging by the way Janus is being more dramatic than normal and Roman has turned so his back is facing them, they’ve noticed something’s wrong and are purposefully not noticing anything else.

“Logan,” Virgil calls, “do you need a minute?”

Logan’s mouth opens, closes, then he nods sharply.

“Okay, thank you, I’m really proud of you for saying that. Can I sink you out?”

Another sharp nod.

Virgil sets his hand gently on Logan’s elbow and sinks them out, right outside Logan’s room. He nods to the door.

“Do you need to be alone for a moment? Or do you need me with you?”

Logan looks at the door. His hands shake again. Virgil sees them twitch toward his legs. Then he looks at Virgil and oh, okay, no, Virgil’s definitely coming inside.

“Come on,” he says, guiding hand still on Logan’s shoulder, “just through here, okay? I’m gonna get you a glass of water.”

Logan looks small, Virgil decides he doesn’t like that. He presses a glass of water gently into Logan’s hands, watches as he drinks the whole thing without complaint, and then carefully sets one of Logan’s fluffier pillows into his lap for Logan to hang onto.

“Do you want to sit here for a moment?”

Logan nods, then buries his face in the pillow and breathes. Virgil closes his eyes and starts to breathe too, keeping it slow and steady as he breathes in, then out, then in, then out. When Logan’s breathing starts to hitch, he opens his eyes and scoots a little closer, wordlessly offering a shoulder. Logan takes it after a moment, his face still buried in the pillow even as his head comes to rest on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Let it out, bud,” Virgil murmurs into the crown of Logan’s head, “don’t try and keep any of that shit in you. It’s just me.”

Watching Logan cry isn’t fun. He doesn’t recommend it. But it’s much, much better than the alternative.

“Hey,” he calls again, a fresh glass of water in his hand, “drink, bud, it’ll help.”

Logan drinks, a little slower this time, as Virgil settles back on the bed, one leg folded under him.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to distract you?”

Logan shakes his head. “I…do not think distraction would be helpful.”

“Okay. Do you want me to give you the logical reason why this is fine, or the emotional one where I tell you how much we care?”

Logan sniffles.

“Both it is, then.” Virgil scoots closer, ready if Logan needs to lean against him again. “Despite the fact that your role is Logic, no one expects you to be entirely logical. You are a person, you have feelings and emotions, and they are as much a part of you as Logic is. Trying to deny that isn’t logical, nor productive. The reason you are who you are is equally due to both of those things.”

He softens his voice as Logan leans toward him again, smiling at how shamelessly Logan is asking to be comforted.

“And that’s why we care about you,” he mumbles, ignoring the heat rushing to his own face, “because you’re you. You’re…prissy and stuck-up and a know-it-all and it’s perfect, L. You’re our braincell and you’re fucking ours. You’re—you’re not going anywhere.”

Logan’s arms still grip the pillow tightly even as his head nudges its way under Virgil’s chin. Virgil smiles and lets him, only realizing he’s absentmindedly nuzzling Logan’s hair after a minute.

The others will be fine. Logan just needs a moment to check out.

Roman, on the other hand, fucking sucks at letting himself ask.

And yeah, Virgil’s not too proud to admit he still feels sick at how much he’s fucked that up for him. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try and fix that now.

Princey’s gig as Creativity isn’t misplaced; Virgil’s equal parts impressed and dismayed at how well Roman’s managed to get himself what he needs without directly asking for it, be it a favor, a piece of feedback, or a conversation.

The one thing he can’t do that with is touch.

Roman needs physical contact like he needs water. He may run hotter than a goddamn furnace but he somehow manages to look cold. Watching him sit himself apart from everyone else hurts now, especially when Janus comes and confesses that he can hear how much Roman tries to insist that he doesn’t need affection from the others.

So, they built a system. Some with Roman’s knowledge, some without. Roman goes to them for comfort when he needs it, but sometimes, when he really needs it, it’s up to them to figure out just how much.

Remus knows his job when it comes to this. His brother is Roman and you don’t get to be a Dark Side without Janus as a dramatic caveat. He’s well-versed in blackmailing self-sacrificing idiots into taking care of themselves.

Remus finds Roman when Roman’s sitting alone, off to the side, staring out into the expanse of the Imagination. He sits down, brushes their shoulders together, and frowns when Roman apologizes and shifts further away.

That’s the first indication.

He suggests they go bother Patton, or sneak out to the field and practice cliff jumping. If Roman’s alright, he’ll roll his eyes and propose an alternative, or agree and they’ll scamper off. But instead, he smiles softly and says no thank-you, politely inviting Remus to stay if he likes, but he’d rather not move.

That’s the second indication.

The third one comes when Remus carefully—really carefully—prods at Roman to see how obvious Roman’s dazed state is. He’s barely there.

Time for reinforcements.

Who gets called depends on who’s around. Since Remus is usually the first one in the chain—although that responsibility does get bounced around—everyone else’s schedules make absolute consistency difficult.

Today, it’s Janus.

He sits on Roman’s other side, pressing their shoulders together. If he’s alright, he’ll lean into him, or at the very least, tolerate it. His presence is strong, enough to coax down his shields and that’ll be the end of it. But today, he scoots away from him too, another apology on his lips.

They exchange a look over Roman’s head.

No one banters quite like Remus and Janus, and sometimes that’s all it takes to pull him out of his head. Sometimes it’s an offer to go flounce around an abandoned castle, and there’s a small smile on his face as they leave.

Not today.

As a last resort, Janus reaches out and gently calls to him.

“My prince, are you alright?”

Sometimes it’s enough.

Not today.

“Alright,” Remus declares, getting up and clapping his hands, “time to pull out the big guns.”

Sometimes he’ll get up and walk with them, sometimes he won’t. He has carried him through the Mindscape before, but it was only once. And that was when he couldn’t actually move and they’d had a murmured conversation where he gave him permission to.

Today he gets up and follows them, confused as to what’s going on. They march him straight to a door and Remus knocks on it.

“Roman’s upset,” he says as soon as the door opens.

Virgil smiles and steps aside, letting him come in. Sometimes it’s a waiting game, sometimes Remus pushes him inside. But today, Roman bows his head and walks inside, letting Virgil close the door behind him.

Sometimes it’s a protest. Sometimes it’s a: ‘this really isn’t necessary,’ or a ‘do we have to do this?’ When that happens he indulges Roman, meets every quip with one of his own until he can knock Roman off-balance with well-placed sincerity and use his distraction to steer him to the bed.

Sometimes it’s an apology. It’s an: ‘I’m sure you’ve got other things to do, I can just go,’ and he shakes his head, tells Roman he’s more than happy to spend time with him. That no, he’s not being rude, that he all but asked for Roman to come. When that happens, he normally clams up, stays quiet, until he relents and gathers Roman up into a cuddle by the door.

Sometimes it’s silence. It’s a bowed head, curled up like a frightened animal, braced for punishment. It’s the moments where the gap between Light and Dark feels uncrossable. It’s the moments where the anger is disappointment, where the frustration is indifference, until he speaks first and murmurs that no, Roman’s not in trouble, he’s not here to lecture him, he’s hurt and he wants to help, as he takes Roman into his arms.

Every time it’s a fight.

It’s knowing that he can’t win because of course, he can’t win but this isn’t something he’s supposed to win but he can’t show weakness but he won’t have a choice because it’s the slow, patient kill that speaks of nothing but kindness and care but Virgil has enough to worry about and he doesn’t get to dump all of his problems on Virgil but he knows he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t care but he cares about everyone and Roman isn’t special but he knows that doesn’t matter and he needs this but it makes him want to rip all of his skin off and start over but then he’d get blood on his carpet and that wouldn’t be very polite either—

Virgil guides him to the couch with a hand on his back, sitting him down and bringing two cups of tea to the table. He cups Roman’s hand around one to gauge how warm it is and if his fingers grow too red, he sets it aside. He sits next to him and carefully reaches out.

Here she is, sitting right next to him, and yet he’s almost nowhere to be found.

He needs to relearn how to ask for comfort, for reassurance, for what he needs, but the wait hurts them both.

I’m trying, I’m trying, I promise, I’m sorry—

It’s alright, I’m right here, just ask, that’s all.

When he finally reaches out, Virgil snaps and bundles Roman into his arms. He tucks Roman up against his chest, letting him wind his arms as tightly as he needs to, guiding one leg, then the other, over his. Roman lets out a little whine as he tucks his face into the crook of his neck. He cards his fingers through Roman's hair and smiles as the poor prince melts into his arms.

The familiar protective instinct swells up and Virgil finds himself wanting very much to wrap him up in his hoodie and keep him safe from the universe.

He keeps his breathing even, hoping his heart doesn’t begin to race from the need to protect the Roman. This is for Roman, this is what he needs, to chase away the worries of the world and be safe.

Sometimes they fall asleep like that. Sometimes Roman needs to cry and he hushes him tenderly. Sometimes he seems convinced that if either of them lets go they’ll fly apart.

It doesn’t matter.

If he feels the safest with Virgil’s arms around him, his head on his chest, his heartbeat in his ear, the world could be on fire and he would not leave his side.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees @meltheromanstan @joyrose-fandomer @insanitori

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #roman angst #logan sanders #logan angst #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #patton sanders

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

[dindjarindiaries]

DIN DJARIN WEEKLY FIC REC #1

This week’s fic rec (January 24th to January 30th) is here! Below the cut, you can find a wide selection of Din Djarin fics to read, whether they’re multi-part, one-shots, drabbles, prompts, or headcanons. I challenge you to provide these writers with feedback if you choose to read their fic!

You can start submitting next week’s fic rec here.

MULTI-PART FICS

Space Cowboy by @punkrock-writer​​

summary: A Girl is teleported from her hotel room, and dropped onto the floor of the Razor Crest. Chaos ensues as she tries to convince The Mandalorian not to freeze her in carbonite, and do her best to find her place in the endless Void of space.

pairing: Din Djarin x F!oc

warnings/rating: Mature. Canon typical violence. Lots of swearing.

genres: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: Hi this is my first fic, you can find it on AO3 also. I’d really appreciate some feedback or any ideas because I have a hard time figuring out if I’m doing the right thing😂 Thank you for doing this.

Touch by @magicrowiswritingstuff​​

summary: It seems so unfair that he is able to touch you and send shivers down your spine when you’re not.

pairing: Din Djarin x female!reader

warnings/rating: A bit of violence and injury/blood

genre: fluff

submitter comments: Just wanna say that I really love this idea and am excited to browse through all the recommended stories on Sunday! <3

Ciryc Ca’tra (Cold Night Sky) by @javi-djarins​​ (Ao3: brianmay_be)

summary: When you crash-land on a frozen planet on your way to Trask to find the Frog Lady’s husband and more Mandalorians, you and Din work together to keep the Crest afloat and keep your little family safe.

pairing: Din Djarin x wife!reader

warnings/rating: G

genres: fluff, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: She may be adding an epilogue that contains some smut, but right now all of the chapters are rated G!

Blossom by @dinthisisthe-wayson​​

summary: Alone.  You felt like you had no purpose in such a powerful galaxy, being the bystander is what you felt was the only thing you were good at.  But when a warrior with a child extend a helping hand.  You take it.  Not knowing that you will no longer be alone for the rest of your time in the universe. Not knowing that your place in the galaxy will be much bigger than you expected.  And just like any flower, you will blossom. In more ways than one.

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

warnings/rating: Teen and Up, violence and language

genres: angst, fluff

submitter comments: N/A

Narudar by @zapsalis-d​​​

summary: You, an experienced bounty hunter working for the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, have found it difficult to sustain yourself lately, requiring more and more credits after each hunt to be able to buy your basic needs. Yet with so many members of the Guild, high rewards were tough to find. Until you’re given a bounty with the prize being something extremely valuable – beskar. During your hunt, you bump into an old enemy you were just so tired of fighting. On your attempt to finally get rid of him once and for all, he found out a secret you wished he hadn’t and now you don’t have any other choice than to team up with him, whether you like it or not. The both of you thought it would be simple. Deliver the quarry, split the reward between the two, and hopefully never see each other again. Oh, how you were wrong.

pairing: Din djarin x female reader

warnings/rating: Rated t for now (but im not sure if that writer will change that in the future or not)

genres: angst, fluff

submitter comments: N/A

Connection by @beskarhearts​​

summary: Din Djarin and you were very similar. You both were closed off from everybody and had on masks of your own. But, when the universe brings you and Din together, you form a connection you didn’t know you two could have.

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

warnings/rating: Cursing, family members passing away (think that’s about it so far)

genres: angst, fluff

submitter comments: N/A

Homeward Bound by TheStarvingWriter (Ao3)

summary: After Luke Skywalker takes Grogu, Din Djarin is adrift. He attempts to find solace in his old ways of bounty hunting, but he feels like an imposter—a shell of his former self, roaming around in a suit of beskar that no longer feels like his own. When a visit to Coruscant leads him to a Seer who tells him that Grogu is in danger, however, everything changes. Now, it’s a race to find his kid and return him home, before he truly loses him forever.

pairing: Din Djarin and Grogu (father/son)

warnings/rating: Teen and Up Audiences 

genres: angst, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: The writing of this is phenomenal. The way they write Din is fantastic and the angst is insane. There will be eventual reunion and each chapter leaves you wanting more. 158288483/10 recommended!!!

the light of stars by @tiffdawg

summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.

pairing: din djarin x reader

warnings/rating: hurt/comfort, sexism, mild injury, mild language, angst, kissing

genres: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: N/A

ONE-SHOTS

Only for You by @firstofficerwiggles​​

summary: You like to sing and it ends up bringing you closer to the Mandalorian. Events take place sometime between Seasons 1 and 2. It’s pretty much fluff with a teeny bit of story. Still has plot though :)

pairing: Mandalorian x female reader

warnings/rating: Rated: G, Warnings: None

genre: fluff

submitter comments: I hope you like it!

Getting Through This by Whumptastic (Ao3)

summary: Din has a hard time dealing with Grogu’s leaving, and like a true friend Cara offers support.

pairing: Din and Cara but only as best friends

warnings/rating: none really, lots of crying/sad vibes tho

genre: hurt/comfort

submitter comments: N/A

Fifty Four by @themand0lorian​

summary: Reader gets a drunken holo from Din, based on Pedro Pascal's 24 hour play monologue (linked in fic)

pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader (no Y/N)

warnings/rating: E

genres: angst, fluff

submitter comments: N/A

Reassurance by @galaxysgal​ (Ao3: imjusttheoutgoingsidekick)

summary: You worry about Din and his recklessness during and after the events of Morak and the two of you have a small chat about it.

pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

warnings/rating: PG, major spoilers for The Mandalorian Chapter 15, canon typical violence, near death experience (for Din), some swear words (both sw swears and regular english ones lol)

genres: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: since it's up on tumblr and ao3 i wasnt sure which link/acc name to give so I just gave both :)

ni kar’tayli gar darasuum by @pumpkin-stars

summary: Din was friends with another foundling as a child, they never saw each other’s faces, both shrouded in beskar from everyone. But feelings form from actions and words, not sight. AKA Din gets married to someone equally touchstarved.

pairing: Din/Reader (no pronouns)

warnings/rating: safe for everyone - warnings for (happy) crying, and it's my first attempt at a star wars fic so the finer details might be a bit dodgy

genre: fluff

submitter comments: i love your fics! i'm still new to the fandom but you seem so sweet and this is a really good idea/thing that you're doing! xx

The Vexatious Nine by Balsamique (Ao3)

summary: While searching for more of his kind on the desolate planet of Karth, a blizzard traps the Mandalorian, the child and seven lodgers in an isolated stopover. When one of the lodgers is mysteriously murdered, it’s up to the Mandalorian to catch the killer before they can claim their next victim. But as the storm thickens, so does the mystery — and this isn’t a problem he can shoot his way out of.

pairing: N/A

warnings/rating: General Audiences

genres: Action/Adventure, Murder Mystery

submitter comments: Author's name on Ao3 is Balsamique. On Tumblr it's first-order-media-department.

what happened to you? by @lesbisoka​

summary: After the events of Episode 8 (S1), Din returns to Sorgan to recover. Omera finds him in a less than ideal state.

pairing: din djarin x omera

warnings/rating: General Audiences, no archive warnings apply

genre: hurt/comfort

submitter comments: N/A

Sprained by @kesskirata​

summary: Rebel spy reader is injured and can’t make her meet up with The Mandalorian

pairing: The Mandalorian x reader 

warnings/rating: none

genres: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: N/A

Over the Moon by gobuyastarwars (Ao3)

summary: Din and Grogu travel with Boba Fett and Fennec Shand for a time. The Mandalorian, Boba, Fennec, and Grogu stop to refuel and find an unpromising tourist attraction nearby– an amusement park. Din doesn't want to go into the amusement park, but Boba and Grogu do.

pairing: Din and Grogu

warnings/rating: Gen, no warnings

genre: fluff

submitter comments: N/A

You can start submitting next week’s fic rec here.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian x oc #fic rec #din djarin weekly fic rec

[birthdaysentiment]

hi its the anon that asked for fic recommendations! I’ve read some of them and IM IN LOVE so if you have more (with any storyline) I’d like to read them as well 🥰

hiii anon! i'm so happy you liked the fic recommendations. all of them is some of my personal favorites, so i was happy to share them with you. oml of course! i love talking about fics, so i would love to recommend more. i made a list underneath (because it got pretty long...), and i've tried to divide them as good as i could into tropes to make it a little easier. hope you’ll enjoy these fics too! ✨

robbe and sander: strangers to lovers (multi-chapter fics)

l. rotten work by aholynight on ao3. this is a complete fic with 5 chapters and it’s one of my all-time favorites. i've read it so many times, and it was also one of the first fanfictions i ever read. just the fact that robbe is a fire breather in this is enough to make it absolutely amazing, and just every chapter is so good and you just keep wanting more. there’s so much tension between robbe and sander and ahhh it’s just so good, i want to read it again!

ll. the night we met by @bxbyi (themoongirl on ao3). another complete fic, this time with 7 chapters with robbe as a writer. it’s such a sweet little detail, and i love it so much, because it sort of helps robbe to deal with some of the things he’s going through, and idk i just love the idea of robbe as a writer. the fic is also centered around liminal spaces and insomnia and how robbe and sander sort og bonds over it. again, another one of my favorites

lll. paint me in trust by @bxbyi (themoongirl on ao3). a complete fic with 7 chapters and vampire!sander that you never know you needed. this fic kinda has everything in terms of fluff and angst, and the fluff in the last chapters is just so good that i often go back to read it, just to jet my fix lol. the relationship between robbe and sander is so good and it’s so nicely written and another favorite of mine, because it’s so ahhh!

llll. money is (not) everything by @jxoxsxsxi (loenaadamson on ao3). a complete fic with 10 chapters, where sander is the rich kid with all the money and opportunities, but a life with no love and purpose until he meets robbe. this is the kind of fic you can read in a day because its so good. love the banter between them in the beginning and how in love they are. i remember that a chapter was posted every day for 10 days and oml what a ride!

v. the finest of the meadow by allforyoumylove on ao3. a complete fic with 6 chapters and probably one of the softest sobbe fics out there, where robbe and sander fall in love while meeting in a meadow. i love this so much, and everything about it is just so soft and sweet. how they’re both there for each other, how they take care of each other too, and just how amazingly sweet they are. and they’re stargazing, so... yeah that killed me

vl. remember my name by @sobbefairytales (ijzermans on ao3). another complete fic with 9 chapters and another personal favorite. who knew the reveal of a name could mean so much and possibly change so much for two young boys. this fic is another perfect example of pure fluff and angst and how well balanced it is. every chapter left you hanging, just desperately wanting to read the next one. it was such a journey and i still remember how empty i felt when i had read the last chapter. just love this one so much!

vll. swimmer sander by @bijvoorbeeldja - a complete fic here on tumblr with 4 chapters and a epilogue. sander as a swimmer is something i never knew i needed to see, and to have robbe take swimming lessons from sander too... i mean it was everything i wanted and more. this is so sweet and just to see them navigate through their relationship with sander’s carer on the side too. such a sweet fic full of fluff as well

vlll. i see you when you run from the light (within your eyes) by @womenstan (womenstan by ao3). this fic is a work in process, but it already has 2 chapters. this is another example of an au i never knew i needed until i read it, because seeing blind!sander and robbe fall in love is just the cutest thing ever. there’s so much fluff already and i'm so excited for every chapter to come. the way sander ‘sees’ robbe through touch makes me so emotional and ahhh i am already so hooked on this fic

vllll. waiting down at the station by ivy_seas on ao3. another work in process with 2 chapters already. seeing robbe and sander fall in love on a train is the cutest thing ever and when they start to see each other, outside of the train ride, i can just feel my heart starting to become a fluttering mess. it’s such a sweet story and i am so in love with the first two chapters and how the pacing is so far. there’s so much fluff already and we had a little taste of angst, so i'm excited to see what happens next!

x. five out of thirty by @tyrusmwm (tokenmwm on ao3). a work in process fic with a total of 18 chapters so far, where robbe and sander is having a long-distance relationship since robbe travels a lot for work. it’s written from robbe’s point of view in a first person narrator and i love that, because robbe’s thoughts and self-commentary is the best and funniest thing ever. sander is so in love with robbe, where robbe sometimes has a hard time expressing that, even though we know he’s so gone for him. this is a fic i'm always looking forward to reading the next chapter of

xi. ground control to us by @hopelessromanticvirgo. a complete social media au, with a couple of fic-style chapters too. this was one hell of a ride and i remember reading this in “real-time” and oml it was the best thing. it was also the first so/me au i read and i've been hooked on them ever since. sander is a famous singer, who starts to text with his biggest fan, who happens to be robbe, but robbed just doesn’t know it’s sander he’s texting with. there’s so much angst in this oml, but it’s all worth it because the fluff and their relationship is so good

sobbe: established relationship (multi-chapters)

l. to the one i love: fuck you by @hopelessromanticvirgo (reddlene on ao3). a complete fic with 13 chapters and one hell of a roller-coaster ride. i remember reading the first 11 chapters in one day and i didn’t know what to do with myself afterwards. in this fic you never really know what to believe and i love that, how you never really know what is going on until you get the answers. there’s so much angst but the ending is worth it

ll. vrijdag 21:37 by @wasteourdays (wasteourdaysdreaming on ao3) - complete fic with 7 chapters, but there could be more (as far as i understood). its centered around the same party, but in each chapter you see the party from a different characters point of view. this is actually the first sobbe fic i read and i still love it so much. there’s so many amazing scenes in it and all of it is so in character for them. love it so much and it’s just so good!

lll. visitations by @lucidpantone (lucidpantone on ao3) - another complete fic with 6 chapters where it’s sort of an established relationship, but also not, because this fic is quite a journey. it varies between scenes from the present and scenes from the past, but when we don’t know when they are in the past. the past is sort of helping the reader into understanding the present and what is happening, but it’s definitely a fic that gets better the more you read it because you start to understand everything more. it’s just such a good fic!

llll. "do i know you?" by @srta-pepa (srtapepa on ao3) - a work in progress with 15 chapters and only one to go. this fic has been a journey and oml what a ride. robbe lost his memory due to a car-crash and he doesn’t remember his relationship with sander, so already there there’s a lot of angst, but the fluff is there too and oml i am never getting tired of it. it’s such a sweet fic and it makes me sad to think it’s almost over, but i can’t wait for the last chapter either

sobbe: established relationship (one-shots)

l. the sun came up and i was looking at you by allforyoumylove on ao3. one of my all-time favorite one-shots with robbe and sander waking up on a sunday morning, just staying in bed, kissing and cuddling, and of course sander just being sander. love this so much and it’s just so full of fluff and everything you love and hold so close to your heart. i read this on a weekly basic because i just need that fix of sobbe fluff

ll. paper rings by @wlwharrys (thekardemomme on ao3). when sander has a bad day and robbe is just there for him, like he always is. there is so much fluff in this that your heart almost can’t take it, and even though there’s a very light slip on angst, it only makes the fluff better and ahhh it’s the cutest thing ever. sobbe in an established relationship always makes me go through the feels, to see how comfortable and safe they are with each other

lll. fizzy colas by @foxsake5 (foxsake5 on ao3). another one-shot that just makes you smile because it’s so sweet and so... heartwarming in a way. tipsy!robbe is one of my favorites and he’s just the absolute sweetest person on this earth and to see sander be so in love with him only makes it better. who knew a trip to the store to buy some candy could make you feel so much

llll. hold all my cliches on the tip of my tongue by @phascinationphases (nbrook on ao3). a fic that saved us from what happened on valentine’s day and brought back sander’s bleached hair, something that we all are hoping for (but something we’re probably never going to get.. *signs*). this is so cute and full of fluff and banter and teasing and just sobbe being best friends and boyfriends too. and the one-liners sander comes with is enough to make you get through the day

v. one night (and love) so young and beautiful by @birthdaysentiment (birthdaysentiment on ao3... yeah me)... well i had to do a little advertisement for my own little one-shot lol. idk it’s definitely not the best out there, but people who know me, knows how much i need to see robbe and sander make out against a wall and slow-dance together, so i wrote a one-shot about that and just included everything that i love... so yeah enjoy i guess

sobbe: other tropes

l. you're my stars... and everything in between by @robbesdriesen (aurorawinds on ao3). a one-shot with the trope secret relationship (a trope we don’t have enough fics with). this is so amazing and it’s inspired by romeo & juliet so do i even need to say more? they’re so in love and when they’re held back from being together, the angst is just right there, but the fluff that comes after... i mean my heart is melting just thinking about it

ll. just friends by @sincerelysobbe (sincerelysobbe on ao3) - a complete fic with 4 chapters and robbe and sander being friends with benefits, until they realize that they just want to be together. this is such an amazing fic, and to see sander be so head over hells in love with robbe is just the best thing. they’re so sweet together, the way they can’t help but look at each other and just wishing they were more than just friends. i just love it!

lll. this isn't our first time around by noobishere on ao3. one of my favorite one-shots that idk how to explain lol. but it’s just robbe and sander traveling through different alternative universes where they always seem to be together or have some kind of connection, but just not in the one they’re living in, but maybe all the traveling can change that. i love the whole concept of it and it’s just so clever and i need to reread this again asap, because it’s so good

llll. if i asked you first, would you be my prince? by @sonderthroughthestreets and @to-enter-polaris (createdforyou and isaksliveterna on a3). a work in progress with t2o chapters already. i’ve always wanted a ballet!sobbe fic, so when i heard about this fic i was already hooked. in this universe robbe and sander are a part of the same ballet company and they’re both fighting for the same spot in the next big play. it’s an enemies to lovers fic and even though it’s mostly angst right now, i can’t wait for the fluff to take over, because it’s gonna be so good

v. sincerely, always yours by @hopelessromanticvirgo. this is a social media au with a couple of fic-style chapters. this was such an emotional roller-coaster, not just for robbe and sander but also for you as a reader. the lack of communication from them was driving me crazy and the amount of times i wanted to pull my hair out just shows that this au was so good and one you just couldn’t help but get invested in. it’s sort of a best friends to lovers but also with a little enemies in it and just a lot of angst (like so much), but also a lot of fluff, that was just the best!

and... a couple of days ago i made a little overview over some robbe and sander fics with the tropes enemies to lovers and friends (best friends, childhood friends etc.) to lovers too, so if you want to, you can check that out here.

there’s over 800 sobbe fics at ao3 right now and so many drabbles and so/me au’s here on tumblr and all of them are just so amazing! (this is just a little snip of them all), so if you want more recommendations, or more sobbe stuff to read, then go to ao3 (under the sobbe tag) or try and search for them here on tumblr (under sobbe fic or wtfock fic). there’s so many amazing stories and the writers deserves all the credit for them!

so, once again i just want to say a massive thank you to every fic and drabble writer and just to all the content creators, because you keep me alive during this drought and the undeniable lack of sobbe. thank you for blessing me everyday and just thank you for everything you’re doing. sending you all lots of hugs and kusjes! ✨

#wtfock #wtfam #sobbe #cille's asks ✨

[yuziyuanapologist]

all my rage

the chengsu (jiang cheng/qin su) agenda - 1.7k - canon divergence from episode 40.

mild content warnings for canon typical discussion of qin su’s parentage + jin rusong’s death. (sometimes im a jgy apologist but not in this fic.)

[AO3 link!]

It’s late into the evening of the banquet when Qin Su appears at the door to Jiang Cheng's guest rooms, tears streaming down her face, her sobs interrupting the breaths she takes, and her hand half raised from when she had knocked. 

"Jin-furen," he greets, brow furrowed with concern - her proper title not a common thing from his lips, and from the way she flinches at it, it's an address that he now regrets. "Qin Su, what's - what's wrong?" 

She opens her mouth to reply, but it's drowned out by renewed tears, a hand to her chest as she gasps, other hand against the door frame to steady herself. 

He falters for a second, unsure - but it's all he can do, to stand aside, and allow her entry into his rooms. He shuts the door behind her; it’s perhaps improper, but it's not something that he cares about at this moment. 

“Qin Su -” he moves forward, a hand to her shoulder. “Would you - would you like to sit?” He gestures to the table, and tries to encourage her forward without pushing. He’s still - still - not good at comforting, but she needs it, so he grits his teeth and walks with her across the room.

She gives a shaky exhale as she sinks to a kneeling position. Her shoulders still tremble as she rests her forearms on the table, hands folded together, as if playing at composure. Jiang Cheng sits beside her, watching closely, carefully, desperate to give her anything that she needs, however ill-equipped he is for it.

"Jiang-Zongzhu," she whispers, her eyes shut tight, tears still escaping. "Jiang Cheng, I-" She shakes her head, once, again, again. "I can't - it's shameful, I -" 

She sobs once more, and never has Jiang Cheng felt helplessness like this - or not - not now. 

He puts a gentle (is it gentle? He hopes so. He lost that touch a while ago, if he ever had it) hand on her forearm, and his thumb soothes circles through her thin sleeves, a trick he learnt from - from - whatever. 

"Qin Su, what can I do?" 

"Nothing - oh, nothing! There is nothing that can be done, except to -" She lets out a frustrated sound akin to a growl, a scream, a cry. And, at the tail of the sound, as it quiets to a breath, she speaks. 

"I received a letter," she says. Another quivering breath, and she continues. "A letter which revealed the truth of my parentage."

Jiang Cheng stops his words before they can escape; he does not need to interrupt. If left the space to continue, she will - he knows this. He knows her. 

"He-" it's spat out, a strangled sound. Furious, and Jiang Cheng understands that feeling better than anyone. "I am a child of assault," she spits. 

"I'm sor-" Isn't that what he's supposed to say? But she cuts him off. 

"I am a child," she continues, teeth gritted. "Of Jin Guangshan." 

Of - of - what? 

"And he knew!" it's more of a wail, now. "A-Yao knew, since before the wedding. But he thought it better to keep quiet, because it was - after A-S-" She doesn’t seem able to say the name - understandable. Sometimes Jiang Cheng struggles with the same thing. With others, too.

He still has his hand in her arm, but now she takes it in one hand, then both, gripping it tight enough to hurt, tight enough for him to feel the ring of Zidian making imprints in her soft skin.

They had both loved A-Song. A friend for A-Ling, and a sweet boy, with his dimpled smile and eyes filled with wonder. He had been so joyful, listening intently to every word his mother cooed to him in the cradle, and he had laughed with delight when Jiang Cheng lifted him high into the air, something that A-Ling had been too big for by then. 

It had always been strange how distant Jin Guangyao had seemed to keep himself from his own son. Jiang Cheng had written it off as the panic of fatherhood, and understood it, having felt almost the same way when - but - but this is - 

"Jiang Cheng," Qin Su says, her words now deliberate and emotionless, as if it’s the only way she can force them out. "He killed my son." As soon as she has spoken, she gasps, and lets the despair take her again.

"He - how-" Words fail him. Anger is familiar, yes, but with his hands held so tightly in hers, his concentration is on Zidian, on not letting it spark out the rage it knows he feels. 

"He set it up!" she cries. "He set it up so that - in case A-Song was -" 

Her voice tails off, and her tears come silent now, mouth open in grief that she can't express - grief that she has never been able to express. 

He's not very well going to be any help with that. Instead, he lifts his other hand, covering hers and his with it, and channels his anger to his voice.

"I'll kill him." 

He's not saying it as he once did, half in jest, more frustration than rage - no, this is cold, hard, the steel edge of his lightning anger. He knows he can say nothing to ease her pain, and he knows that she doesn't want to hear anything else. This, though, this he can say. 

"Or I will," she forces out, voice cracked and broken and yet fierce. 

His right hand is numb from her grip, but in some soothing way it helps. The absence of feeling there is a distraction, a grounding force, because if he could stand and leave, he'd do it, he'd go straight to the Fragrance Hall and he'd - 

There's a knock at the door. A familiar, soft, fucking patronising tap, and a horribly familiar voice calling through. 

"Jiang-Zongzhu," It's oozing politeness, dripping saccharine syrup and burning into Jiang Cheng's ears. "Do you know where A-Su is?" 

Qin Su's grip on his hands tightens yet more for a second, and then, with a sharp inhale - loosens. She extracts her hands from his grip, forcing herself into a cool and measured manner, and pushes herself to stand, wiping her sleeves beneath her eyes. All of this before Jiang Cheng has even been able to speak. Without Qin Su's hands on his own, they've curled into fists that he can barely relax. 

"Why would I?" he calls in response to Jin Guangyao, attempting the offhand gruffness that he's perfected these years, but it falls short. 

Qin Su shakes her head, and takes a step towards the door, wobbling only a little. Inside her sleeves, her hands, too, are curled into fists. 

In this moment, he's somewhat afraid of her. And then - all at once - his mouth is curling into a prideful smirk at her power, anticipation for what will come, and he stands, following behind her to the door. 

"Give me a minute," he calls roughly to Jin Guangyao. Make him wait. 

Just before Qin Su can put a hand on the door to open it, he takes her arm with his left hand. "Trust me," he murmurs at her look of alarm, and lifts his right hand to hers, fingers curling round her wrist. 

He's never done this before, but he shuts his eyes, and whispers to the lightning anger. 

Slowly at first, then with a smooth speed, Zidian slithers across to her wrist, making itself at home against her delicate skin, the ring winding itself around her middle finger, and sealing itself. It looks as though it belongs there - Jiang Cheng almost can't bear to let go, not least for the strange calm he feels without the static flickering on the edges of his consciousness. 

She gives him a sort of smile, a tear left unshed at the corner of her eye, marring the perfect picture of callous anger. He nods once, swallows, and lifts a thumb to brush away the tear. 

She slides the door open, and Jin Guangyao is there, all smiles, all relief to see her. All that and sticky sweet falsehood, and at the edge of it, a calculating glint in his eye. 

"A-Su," he says, "I've-" 

Jiang Cheng hears the crackling before he does, sees the flash of purple before Jin Guangyao has a chance to react. 

He's felt Zidian's sting himself only once before, and it was only the laughable mistake of letting a young Jin Ling play with the weapon, a mild hit compared to some. 

This - this is full force and heavy, throwing Jin Guangyao back across the courtyard, into the decorative pond in front of the opposite building. This is what he deserves. 

"A-Su-" he struggles to stand. 

She whips him again, and this time he stays down, blood dribbling from his mouth as he looks at her with wide, frightened eyes. 

She's beautiful like this. Fearsome, proud, her slight stature almost unnoticeable with the amount of rage that she holds inside. Jiang Cheng could watch for - forever. 

Jin Guangyao croaks from the pond he’s slumped in. "Please, A-Su, let me -" 

Once more, and he's unconscious. 

The commotion is stirring people from the surrounding buildings now, running footsteps and voices audible, and though Qin Su’s face is etched with a cool, triumphant smile, Jiang Cheng knows to act. 

"Qin Su," he urges. "Quick. Give me Zidian back, say it was me." 

Her eyes flicker with defiance, but she climbs down from it, her breathing quickening. "I -" 

He takes her hand in his before she can argue, and summons Zidian back. 

"Jiang Cheng-" The beginnings of panic are showing in her eyes as she glances to where the sounds of crowds are coming from - but at least the satisfaction shows no signs of giving way to regret. 

"We'll work it out," he says, and then swallows all his past down to continue. "Come back to Lotus Pier with me. You'll be safe there." 

She meets his gaze, and he hopes it holds all the truth that's in his heart, all his intentions. 

Letting go of her wrist, he lets Zidian crackle once, twice, between his fingers, and searches her eyes for the answer. 

A moment later, she gives it, a gentling of her eyes, a sadness to her smile, and she nods. Whispers "thank you," and lifts her hand to press a brief touch of palm to cheek. 

He nods, trying not to let his breathing stutter, and turns back towards Jin Guangyao’s unconscious form, moving to stand in front of her as the crowds rush into the courtyard. 

Behind his back, he moves his left hand. A second later, she takes it. 

#jiang cheng? falling in love with woman who can injure him? its more likely than you think #the untamed #the untamed fic #cql fic #mine #fic*

[darling-i-read-it]

Jealousy

Travis Bickle x reader

Word Count: 900

Warnings: talks of guns and jealousy 

Author’s Note: I hope you like this darling! I’ve written something else for Travis that I like better than this but it wasn’t requested so I don’t know when I’ll have space to post it. Either way look out for that!

Requested: by anon, Hey, could we have travis bickel being jelouse?    👉👈 i just found your blog and its astounding 💗 Anyway, im in love with travis and there are only like 2 fics on ao3, and everything else is travis x Arthur wich im not rlly into.

Summary: the request 

Genre: fluff i guess? 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

Travis leaned back in the taxi, glancing out at the door of your work. He had been waiting for you to come down so that you could go out for dinner and a night on the town. He was excited about the night and he felt that the clock was going by to slow as it ticked away on the dashboard.

Finally the door opened and you emerged. The first thing he noticed was that your head was hung back and you were laughing. He thought your laugh was the best thing he had ever heard even if he couldn’t hear it through the window. He rolled down the passenger window to hear you and then a voice broke his fantasy.

“So we can meet up to work on the project?” 

It was a male voice. Finally Travis’s eyes fell on the man who was making you laugh. He was a tall macho guy, wearing a suit that was a size too small to make his arms pop. He looked like the kind of guy who went to a sports bar to watch a football game with his buddies to pick up chicks.

Travis’s smile immediately fell as you nodded.

“Of course. Call me,” you said, handing him a small slip of paper with your number on it. The man nodded and he gestured to the taxi you were walking toward that had Travis in the passenger seat.

“Are you taking a taxi? I can drive you home if you want,” he said. You shook your head, gesturing to the driver through the window. 

“Travis is taking me home. Thank you though!” The man nodded and kneeled down, getting a good look at Travis and held up a hand in a sort of half wave.

“Make sure she gets home safe,” he said. Travis had a neutral look on his face as he nodded a bit.

“Yeah,” was all he was able to say. His excitement and self esteem plummeted. You leaned over the window and gave him a grand smile before opening the door and slipping into the passenger seat. Travis started the car wordlessly and pulled out.

“We heading to dinner?” you asked, putting your purse on the floor. He nodded simply but didn’t answer you. His mood was off and it infested the car. You sat up and your mood fell as well, worried about him. “Did something happen?” 

“Who was that?” he asked, voice bitter.

“Some douche bags from work.”

“Are you going out to dinner with him?” You and Travis had only been seeing each other for a few weeks. It was still new and that left some wiggle room for Travis to be nervous that you were seeing other people.

“Not if I can help it,” you said honestly. Travis glanced at you.

“You just gave him your number,” he said, turning the car to the place you had agreed to go to dinner together. You turned to him fully with a proud smile on your face.

“I actually gave him your number. So if you get a house call from a guy named Eric just say you’re my boyfriend,” you stated simply. His face blushed a bit and he glanced over at you, feeling a bit better.

“So you don’t like him?”

“Are you jealous Trav?” He shook his head too quickly, looking at your through the rear view mirror this time so he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“No, just wonderin.” 

“You are jealous,” you whispered. “You don’t have to be, honest.” You grabbed his hand and held it as he parked the car in front of the restaurant. He nodded and turned to you now that the car was parked and he didn’t need to look at the road.

“Okay,” he said quietly. You squeezed his hand then gestured to the restaurant.

“Come on. There’s a meatball sub waiting for the both of us and if we don’t get in there soon who knows who’s gonna eat it,” you teased. He laughed and nodded.

“Okay.” 

You got out of the car and waited for him to walk around before grabbing his hand again, walking inside together. He felt better but that guy Eric still plagued his mind. That guy's intentions weren’t good. The gun in his pocket felt heavier.

#travis bickle x reader #travis bickle imagines #robert de niro x reader

[winterscaptain]

transfer request. part four.

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

a/n: part four is finally here! i am working on part five, and have a special treat with that one. i am so excited to continue this story with you all :) i’ve also decided that jack is short for jonathan because i simply cant imagine they just named him jack flat out and im not sure his name is john either so i made an executive decision lmao  rating/words: teen / 1600 no warnings apply!

another disclaimer because people Have Questions - i have made jack short for jonathan because of a friend friend i had growing up who was a jonathan who went by jack :)

AO3 | Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Requests Open!

+++

The wedding approached faster than anyone thought possible.

The deep, cleansing breath Y/N takes as she stands at the top of Dave’s gorgeous staircase certainly doesn’t feel all that deep or all that cleansing. She holds tight to Derek’s arm like a lifeline, gripping the fabric of his black button-up.

Jack is a few steps in front of her, carrying the rings. He looks up at her, and she winks at him, trying to hide her nerves

“You okay, sweetness?” Derek pats her hand where it rests in the crook of his elbow.

She nods briskly, smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. It’s a stunning garment – heavy silk hangs off her shoulders in layers down to the floor. It frames her figure perfectly – she is only five or so months along, but there is definitely a pronounced swell that hadn’t been there a few weeks prior.

“Just a little nervous Aaron won’t be there when I get down there.”

Derek snorts. “He’ll be there. He can’t outrun me and wouldn’t try.”

She smiles and kisses Derek’s cheek.

+++

In the backyard, Aaron leaned against one of the pillars framing the porch, his hands in his pockets.

“You’re better off than me, Hotch.” Will takes a sip of his beer, standing at Aaron’s side. “When JJ and I got married down here, I wasn’t sure she was gonna come back down the stairs.”

Hotch chuckles. “She’ll come down eventually, just like JJ. Of that I am certain.” He looks over at JJ, sitting beside Spencer with Henry in her lap. She looks up and grins at Hotch, giving him a thumbs up. He smiles back at her.

Dave walks over to Emily and hands her a glass of wine. “How lucky we are to be among family.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Dave, now is not the time for a sermon.”

“No, it’s not,” Dave replies, pointing at Aaron with his cigar. “I’m saving it for dinner so I don’t steal Penelope’s thunder.”

Garcia, under the arch with her script in-hand, winks at him.

+++

Jack steps up the stairs and takes Y/N’s other hand. “Are you ready?” He asks.

She nods, leaning down to kiss the top his head. “Yeah, love. I’m ready.” She looks at Derek, who looks back at her with a gentleness in his eyes. “Please don’t let me fall.”

He kisses her forehead. “Never, never, never.”

There are lots of kisses going around, but it’s just one of those days.

Derek pulls her close. Jack’s hand rests in hers as they slowly descend the stairs.

When Aaron comes into view, under the canopy of lights and surrounded by their family, tears spring into Y/N’s eyes. She swallows, and Derek holds her tighter. Jack still holds onto her hand, the rings locked in his other fist.

Aaron’s face breaks out into a smile, and they’re both grinning at each other like idiots by the time the four of them are standing together.

Derek kisses her cheek and places her hand in Aaron’s. Derek steps back behind Dave, taking Jack with him and keeping a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Penelope begins then, welcoming their family to “this ridiculously exciting and long-overdue event.”

Y/N and Aaron can only smile at each other until it’s time for them to read their lines.

 “...in sickness and in health.”

“...for richer or for poorer.”

“...in the field and at home.”

“I do.”

“I do.”

Penelope nods at Y/N, and she beckons Jack forward. Jack hands the rings up to Derek, who drops them safely in his pocket.

When Jack reaches the space between her and Aaron, she drops to one knee, holding her hands out. He places his hands in hers, and she grips them tight.

His brown eyes look into hers, and it's like they’re looking through each other rather than at each other. She knows she’ll never take those eyes for granted – whether in the face of her stepson, her husband, or any other children they have.

“Jonathan Hotchner, I may not have given you the gift of life, but life sure did give me the gift of you.” When he smiles, some tears escape Y/N’s eyes, falling onto the ground at her feet. She only halfway processes Aaron’s hand coming to rest on Jack’s shoulder as she continues. “I promise to be by your side through all your triumphs and sorrows. I can’t promise I’ll always do the right thing or say the right thing, but I can promise to love you with all my heart, every day, forever.”

Her vows to Jack were short, but they’d taken her forever to write. She’d spent hours sitting at Aaron’s desk in the new den, pen in her hand, lit only by the warm yellow desk lamp.

“What are you working on in here?” Aaron came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“It’s a secret.” Nevertheless, she made no attempt to cover her project, and she waited as he skimmed through her scribbles and revisions. Three sentences. I need to give my stepson better than three sentences. What else was there to say to the most important child in her life?

“Are you writing vows for Jack?”

Y/N nodded and twisted in her chair. “I won’t do it if you think it's dumb or –“

She was interrupted by a firm, almost desperate, kiss. “It’s a great idea. He’ll love it.”

Jack jumps into her arms and Aaron snags her arm as she’s thrown off balance. White dress be damned, she sits on the cold stone of the patio with Jack more than halfway in her lap.

“I’m glad you’re my momma.” He says it so quietly she almost missed it.

“What should Jack call me after we’re married? I’m not sure I want him to call me by my first name anymore, but I also don’t think I should be Mom, for Haley’s sake.”

Aaron sighed, tightening his arms around her. It’s nearly midnight, and the darkness is like a blanket cast over the bedroom. Aaron’s such a finicky sleeper – requiring total darkness – that with the curtains drawn, she could barely see him.  “You are and will be the closest thing he has to a mother. Don’t worry about replacing Haley. Do you have any preliminary ideas?”

“I’m thinking momma, or even something in another language. In Hebrew, mother is Ima, or the Polish Matka, that kind of thing.”

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I really like momma for you.”

She shifts to kiss his bare shoulder. It’s a silent thanks.

Aaron’s crying now, as is Dave, JJ, and Penelope. Derek is barely keeping it together, and Emily passes tissues with one hand while the other is wrapped in Spencer’s. They’re all together, safe and sound.

Y/N is openly weeping, one hand stroking Jack’s hair and the other rubbing back and forth between his shoulder blades.

“I love you so much, baby. So so much.”

She looks up over Jack’s shoulder to Aaron, who offers her a hand. She takes it and rises, keeping a hand on Jack. Both she and Aaron take a big breath and wipe their eyes.

Derek passes the rings to Aaron, who passes them to Jack.

Jack slips one of the rings on his father’s finger – a simple silver band with four small diamonds. Aaron presses a kiss to his son’s head and turns him gently by the shoulders to face Y/N once more.

When she holds her hand out, Jack slips the silver ring and twists it so it locks in with her engagement ring. Together, the rings create an intertwined diamond setting. The insides of the bands have all of their initials in raised letters on it, designed to leave an indent in the skin whenever the ring is removed. They designed the rings as a family, making it all the more special.

“By the power vested in me by the great state of Virginia, and the internet, I now pronounce you married!” Penelope bounces on her toes and grins.

Aaron raises an eyebrow at her, and she laughs.

“Oh my god just kiss her already.”

Aaron takes Y/N’s face between his hands and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips. Their family whoops and hollers around them. His hands fall to her abdomen and rest protectively around her. When they part, they press their foreheads together, eyes closed. She brings Jack close to her and they stand there as a unit for a moment, basking in the joy of the moment.

+++

Their first dance as a couple is slow and quiet. They hardly move, just shifting back and forth together, only loosely connected to the music. Pair by pair, their family joins them on the dance floor as the songs change.

Derek and Penelope are first, all at once playful and intimate. JJ and Spencer are next, but only after they hang Henry and Jack’s blazers over a chair and situate them with a soccer ball on the grass. Will abstains from the dancing for now, playing goalkeeper to Jack’s forward.

Emily and Dave join in once their wine glasses are empty. Everyone is flush with alcohol or joy or both.

Y/N has one arm looped around Aaron’s shoulder and the other wrapped in his hand over his heart. He quietly sings along to the music, his cheek pressed to her temple. She looks up and him and kisses him softly. His lips trail to the sensitive spot behind her ear and his warm breath makes her voice catch in her throat.

“I love you.”

She feels his smile against her skin. “I know.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics​ @quillvine​ @stxrryspencer​ @agenthotchner​ @hurricanejjareau​ @fics-ilike​ @octothorpetopus​ @ange-must-die​ @ughitsbaby​ @rousethemouse​ @criminalsmarts​ @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal​ @icantswimhalp​ @genevievedarcygranger​ @ssaic-jareau​ @good-heavens-chris-evans 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #yes im spoiling you all with two updates two nights in a row

[glacecakes]

Alchemy Lullaby (15/?)

Of all the changes that came with living in the castle, becoming a father was not one he anticipated. When Eugene encounters a small child suffering like he did, he gives them the opportunity to grow up the way he never did… helping them both heal. (AU where Varian is 4 and gets adopted by Eugene)

Experiments, imprisonment, and introspection.

Read the rest on AO3

woop woop  Once again thanks to Finn, space, and AJ for all the help they've given me on this fic, and to all of you for your kind words! We're in the endgame now! 2 or 3 more chapters! I'm starting finals week which is no fun, but im also starting to work on the next chapter right now, so hopefully it'll be out soon! But who knows! I sure as hell don't!

The dungeons hadn’t changed since last time. 

Eugene laid on his cot, staring up at the ceiling without much of a thought. How long has he been in here? He wasn’t sure. Nor did he really care. The only way he could tell time was the light in his window, and Lance. 

“Hey bud, how are you doing?” speaking of, there he was again. Lance stopped by at least twice a day to update him. It was pretty much the same conversation every time.

“So… the princess is still locked in her room,” The bald man said, twiddling his thumbs. “Her dad is sticking to his guns. You know. His kid was kidnapped, so he can’t exactly let her kidnap someone’s kid, it’s about the principle, yknow? Even though the kidnapping was justified…” he trailed off awkwardly. 

Eugene is silent. He doesn’t even blink. 

“Apparently the King figured out that Cass took the princess to the rocks, yknow, where she got her hair back. And he wasn’t thrilled. I think she’s going to a convent.” Oh, that was new. “She’s not thrilled about it for obvious reasons, I think even the queen is trying to talk him down.” Oh finally, someone is actually fighting back? He sighed through his nose. 

It was wrong of him to assume the others weren’t just as upset as him, but he couldn’t help but feel… betrayed? Furious? The feeling is unclear. It’s similar to how he felt when the Stabbingtons tried to kidnap Varian, but more urgent. It felt as if an alarm was constantly going off, sending his emotions into overdrive at all times, draining him of all energy. 

Eugene asked the same question he always did. “...Varian?” 

Lance sighed, and that was all he needed to know. 

-

“Good morning, Varian,” Quirin hummed, gently shaking the boy. “I brought you some breakfast.” 

The little lump shifted, and Varian peeked out from a messy bed head. Oh, it was so cute! Quirin once again kicked himself for letting his son go unnoticed by him for five years. He chuckled at how Varian pouted, but Varian didn’t seem to understand what was so funny. He took the banana offered to him and crammed his face like it was his last meal on earth. 

Though, knowing Ulla, it may be. 

He sighed as he helped get Varian ready for the day. Ulla, though she raised Varian, was oddly absent now that Quirin was here. She focused all her time on research, spending the day in her lab with Varian and the night in her room pouring over notes. What was their life like before? Did she ignore him often? 

Back at the castle Varian was quite a dramatic kid, always wanting to be the center of his dad’s attention. It was that desire for love that caused all this, after all. Was this where it stemmed from? 

It was with some reluctance that he handed Varian over to Ulla once the boy was dressed. She nodded at Quirin, but then gazed eagerly at her son. It wasn’t a loving look, not like how Rapunzel would excitedly grin at Varian. It was that same mischievous look she gave to her specimen on the road, and it sent shivers up Quirin’s spine now. To think he used to find it endearing. 

“Good morning, Varian,” She said. “We’re going to do some tests this morning, see how well you can control the rocks, ok?”

Varian whimpered at that. Now that Ulla seemed to think he could control them, she was determined to get him to harness it. Create specific patterns, cause them to retract, et cetera. He’d only ever gotten them to obey him exactly once before, back at the castle. 

Back when he wanted to use them for love, to fight for his family. 

Quirin gave him an encouraging smile. “I’ll make you ham sandwiches for dinner, ok? Just behave for your mother.” He’d go with, but discovered quickly he couldn’t stomach it. Seeing Varian so upset, seeing Ulla yell at him, it hurt too much. He’d nearly stopped the experiments, much to Ulla’s displeasure. They needed to do this, she said. They had to figure out how the moondrop manifested, how it worked, in order to get the moonstone out of him safely. 

He told himself this, and yet the screams from her lab still haunted him. 

-

Rapunzel paced around her room, frustrated. Every second she stayed here, safe and sound, was another second Eugene suffered, Cass suffered, Varian suffered. Her window was gated so she couldn’t climb down, and guards were stationed outside the door. She couldn’t even go to the bathroom alone! Pascal occasionally snuck out but he couldn’t exactly talk or help her breakout. 

She had her mom for that, thank god. Arianna currently sat on her bed, flipping through her daughter’s journal. While the pages were filled with her daily adventures, and occasionally a desire to explore, the longer the journal went, the more it focused on Varian. His quirks, his misadventures, his powers… 

She shut the journal. “Rapunzel, sweetie, I know you’re upset.” She said. “But you said you knew Varian was kidnapped? The whole time?”

“Not the whole time, just… most of it.” She admitted. “I knew it was going to come back and bite us, but not… not like this.” 

“Well, your father sure is a stickler for his laws. You should’ve seen him when Varian tried to take over,” She laughed slightly at the memory, but stopped when Rapunzel only became more miserable. No doubt her daughter blamed herself for the current situation. “I can’t say this isn’t your fault, because in a way it is. But you’re not alone in blame.” She walked over to rub her daughter’s shoulders. 

“No, but it’s not right!” The queen’s hands were shrugged off. “Varian was taken because his mom wanted to harness his powers and hog them all to herself. The only difference between her and Gothel is that she’s his birth mom! That’s it! He’s just a kid!” Rapunzel blinked, wiping away stray tears. “He’s just a kid, my kid…” 

Arianna was silent. Then, she sighed. Rapunzel was right after all. Her methods may have been wrong, but she was right. Sometimes, the law needs to be broken in order to do the right thing. After all, Rapunzel was brought home by the man who stole her crown. 

-

Well. Another day, another failure.

Ulla swirled the solution, staring at it idly. Varian had been fussy all day, crying and screaming whenever Ulla so much as raised her voice. That thief spoiled him, didn’t he? Stupid brat. She never wanted kids, not like Donella. Children would only slow her down, and the better she is, the better the world is. 

Right now, Varian was being tucked into bed by her partner. Quirin was great, truly, don’t get her wrong. He was soft, he was kind. But that softness would be his undoing. They’d always joked about the moonstone, what would happen if she harnessed it, what would happen if he destroyed it. 

A shame it turned out this way. In another life, perhaps they could’ve been a happy family.

They both knew what would happen here. One way or another, Ulla was going to extract the moonstone. Quirin would try and get his hands on it in order to destroy it, while Ulla would try to grab and absorb it for real this time. None of that womb gets first dibs bullshit. 

Come on, Quirin, she thought, you know what happened last time someone tried to destroy it! What’s so special about this time? She never did figure out how to destroy it, after all. She’d just convinced him that they could take it and experiment. He’d thought they’d work together on the moonstone in order to destroy it. But she’d never wanted to destroy it! Unbreakable houses, bridges defying physics, unrippable stitches, the ideas were endless! Why destroy knowledge? 

Why worry about the health of the parasite attached to it?

She’d been messing with an idea for the past few days: if a chemical reacted to the rocks, maybe it would react to the moondrop. The concoction in front of her turned a golden color, glowing faintly in the light. The bubbles trapped air like flies in amber. Carefully, with a small pipette, a single drop of solution was placed on obsidian. 

For a moment, nothing happened. She groaned.

Then a tendril of amber began to grow. And grow. 

She backed up quickly, just in time, as the whole rock suddenly groaned in protest. Amber tentacles wrapped and squeezed the rocks tighter and tighter until-

Snap!

Ulla stood, dumbfounded, as the broken piece of rock clattered to the ground at her feet. 

-

Quirin sighed, placing a plate full of food in front of Varian. The little boy was so tired he couldn’t keep his head upright without support. Drowsy eyes flickered over the sandwich before slowly raising it to eat. It was good that he was eating, right? Eating meant not sick. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so distressing. 

He couldn’t help but lament his past self. Foolish, lovestruck Quirin had been so willing to overlook Ulla’s flaws, her red flags. He’d convinced himself love had changed her, that taking her to the moonstone would convince her it needed to be destroyed. And when that didn’t happen, he’d blamed himself. How could he not? 

He spent five years chasing down the only woman he ever loved, fully prepared to forgive her. And when she’d told him the moonstone wasn’t with her, he had let himself hope. Maybe she had destroyed it, after all! Only to realize the moonstone survived… in his son. Their son. The son Ulla didn’t love, just like she didn’t love him…

Did she ever love him?

Varian’s head drooped, and would’ve dropped onto his plate without Quirin’s hands. He smiled despite the circumstances. Varian was definitely the one good thing to come out of this mess. 

“Come on, son. It seems it’s bedtime.” He lifted Varian effortlessly, and he laid his head on Quirin’s shoulder. 

Varian sighed sleepily. “Daddy…” 

The knight’s heart plummeted. It wasn’t him Varian was calling for.

He was going to put Varian to bed, when he had a bright idea. 

“Varian, son, can you wake up for a little bit? I want to show you something.” He carried him to the study, where the graphtyc sat unassumingly. He took it with him after the whole debacle in the castle. Varian groaned, rubbing his eyes, but glanced curiously down at the sheet of paper in front of him. He remembered it from the castle, this was what caused him to run away… this is what said he could hurt people.

“As my son, you have a birthright to the secrets of the Brotherhood,” Quirin said, stretching the paper out so Varian could read the translation. “This is one of them.” 

Baby blue eyes read over the paper. “Whatsit mean?”

“Well the first one I’m sure Rapunzel has sung to you. It’s a song to make you feel better.” 

“Oh!” Varian’s eyes lit up at the mention of the princess. “One time, my head hurt, and she said her song had magic healing powers!” 

Quirin chuckled. “Did it work?”

“Not really.” Varian reached out to brush his fingers against the black rock drawing, a frown etched onto his face. His hands shook almost imperceptibly as he read the other incantation. 

“That one is yours,” Quirin whispered.

“Mine?”

“You have the moondrop, you can use that one.” 

He could see the cogs turning in Varian’s brain; like mother, like son. “Does it actually work?”

The knight laughed a bit harder. “Yes, it does. But you shouldn’t use it unless you’re in danger, ok?”

Varian bit his lip. “Ok,” He whispered. Did momma count as danger? Is it ok to hurt people if he’s in danger? Is that what Quirin was saying?

His head spun. He wanted Eugene. Eugene made sense. Quirin didn’t. He was full of contradictions; the man wanted to keep people safe and yet he was keeping Varian from his family. Rapunzel said your real family loved you no matter what, and this wasn’t his real family. 

Sadly, Varian buried his head into Quirin’s shoulder. For a brief moment, he could pretend it was Eugene. 

Quirin sighed as he carried Varian to bed. 

“Goodnight, son,” he whispered, stroking Varian’s hair away from his face.

Varian whined. “Not your son.” 

The knight said nothing. He left the small room with his head lowered. As the door shut, he could faintly hear the beginnings of tears as Varian sobbed for Eugene.

Denial had blinded Quirin for too long. He’d never love Varian as unconditionally as Eugene does, he’s already proved it. His love for Ulla and dedication to the moonstone caused him to hurt the boy. There was no way Varian would forgive him, even if this all does work out.

He’d messed up big time, hadn’t he?

He had to talk to Ulla. 

-

Sometime around midnight, Eugene awoke to someone at his cell door, jostling with the keys. He swung upright, ready to yell at Lance about waking him up, but faltered. 

“Cassandra?” He asked, dumbfounded. Black hair bounced as its owner looked up. 

“Yo,” She simply said as his jail swung open. “Let’s go.” She walked away, but Eugene didn’t follow at first, too shocked. Her annoyance was clear in her voice. “Hurry up, daddy-o, we don’t have all night.”

“First of all, never call me that again,” Eugene complained as he followed her. “Second, I thought you were being shipped to a convent?”

“Yea, that was a lie,” she said as they snuck past several guards. “My dad made it up so we could plan this without suspicion.”

“Plan what?”

She looked at him like he had grown an extra head. “Your escape, dumbass. Me, Lance, and the queen.” Eugene choked on that last name. The queen? Breaking the law? It was hard enough to accept Cassandra deliberately breaking the law, but her? 

They snuck down large, moonlit hallways silently. Finally at Rapunzel’s doors, she and Arianna stood waiting for them. 

“Eugene!” Rapunzel gasped, racing towards her boyfriend. He easily lifted her into his arms, spinning around in the embrace. For a moment, they just stood there, taking in each other’s scent after so long apart.

Arianna cleared her throat, and they separated. “The guards have been relieved. We have 10 minutes till the next shift comes in.” She said. Her eyes were glittering like diamonds, full of mischief and determination. 

“Your majesty, I-I… what is going on?” Eugene gasped, struggling to find the words. “I mean, I can probably guess what’s going on, clearly you guys are breaking us out, but why?”

The queen’s eyes softened. She placed an arm on Eugene’s shoulder. “We spent too long trying to reason with my husband. He’s a man of the law, even if the law is unfair. For every minute we let him have his way… Varian has been gone.” She gripped his shoulder. “I know how painful that is, to know someone else has your baby, and you don’t know if they’re safe.” Her words shook so painfully Eugene wanted to hug her, but he wasn’t sure that was allowed. “Do what I was never able to do, but you did for me. Save your child. Bring him home.” 

Eh, fuck it; Eugene wrapped the queen in a quick, grateful embrace. She returned it. 

“We’re going out the same way me and Raps snuck out,” Cassandra said. “Lance and her majesty will keep the king and my dad occupied.”

“But there’s no telling for how long,” Rapunzel summarized. “So we have to hurry.” With that, they raced down the corridor, leaving Arianna alone.

“Hang on, Varian,” She whispered, glancing up at the moon. “Your parents are coming.”

-

Max rode straight into Old Corona, never stopping for a second. Each second they waited was another second Varian was in danger, or maybe worse. 

“He’s gotta be ok, right?” Rapunzel rambled as they rode. “Quirin is there, and he’s a good guy! He wouldn’t let Ulla hurt him… right?”

“Didn’t he betray us and hand Varian back over to his mom?” Eugene replied, getting an elbow from Cassandra. “Look, I’m just saying. We gotta be ready for a fight.” 

“He’s right, I doubt Ulla will give up so easily.” Cassandra said, brows furrowing. “Why exactly did they take Varian?”

“Varian is the moondrop, and apparently that makes him dangerous,” Eugene’s fists clenched at the thought. Sure he may have crazy rock powers, but dangerous? His boy? The kid befriended a raccoon and brought it to a fancy dinner party! He was just that, a kid! 

Cassandra shook her head to indicate it wasn’t what she meant. “Right, I got that. But why does he even have those powers? Quirin said it was an accident.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Eugene butt in before Rapunzel could respond. “What matters is that Ulla hurt him for having the powers, and we need to stop her.”

“Right.” As the conversation ended, they entered Old Corona… or rather, tried to. Max couldn’t even enter the city, it was so covered in rocks. 

“It’s worse than before,” Rapunzel hissed. “We’re going in on foot.” As they entered the village, her hair began to glow, reflecting off the rocks in tandem. 

In his room, Varian shot upright. A warmth radiated in his chest, spreading throughout his body and filling him with a sense of peace. “Punzel?” He whispered. He could feel it, but he wasn’t sure how. Tiny feet padded out of his door and downstairs. She was headed towards the lab entrance, he could feel her movements! And if Rapunzel was here, so was Eugene! He excitedly raced into the lab, only to stop at the scene in front of him.

Quirin and Ulla, glaring one another down.

A flask in Ulla’s hands, a sword in Quirin’s. 

The door to the lab burst open.

#varian #tangled the series #tangled #tts varian #tts #tts eugene #tangled eugene #eugene fitzherbert #team awesome

[illfoandillfie]

.......don’t be shy........ show us the comment 👀👀

lmao i will show you but only because i’ve already responded to it. I don’t want anyone to be mean to the commenter or make their own responses or anything like that. I’ve got no problems with people critiquing my work or offering suggestions on how to improve and she was very polite about it. It’s just that I didn’t agree with some of what she said lmao

okay so this comment was left on the prequel to Interloper (Snapshots From Before)

I usually don’t comment a lot in here (tho i do give lots of kudos) and the first part of this was so awesome that i’ve read it many times! However, this second part felt kinda... sexist? I think you gave this the wrong approach and ended up with the boys being a little mysoginistic, specially Roger telling y/n “if you are that hungry for dick you can ride me” (i’m not actually quoting the exact line but it was like that). I would’ve love to see at least one scene where you show some after care and the boys actually caring about y/n so we could see that their relationship is a healthy one. Without this, it just seems like she’s bassically a human sex toy. I get it, it’s the whole “she’s just holes to fill” and that’s great, i respect people who are into that, but even then there has to be some caring and empathy from both parties. Also, orgasm denial is hot but regardless, having sex has to be rewarding for both participants and Roger just sorta fucked her and asked her to leave? In a very non polite way? Sex is about both parties reaching to climax and equality for both lmao.😅 I know it’s a one shot but i would’ve like to see the non sexual part of y/n’s relationship with the boys other than post coital conversations. Again, i loved the first and third part, i think you have so much writing potencial within you and you should embrace it. These are all constructive critics and i do not wish to make you feel bad or offend you. I actually enjoy the whole mecanics of these raw, awesome, hot, sexy sex scenes but even though its fiction (which i know) and this whole slut kink is actually something people like let’s not forget to narrate healthy, caring relationships. Again, this seems like some eassay for a thesis but im just expressing MY point of view and i do not intend harm towards you as a writer or someone else as a reader. And yes, probably i need to “chill the F out” cause it’s just an ao3 bloody fic but still. Expressing an opinion that can help the writer improve is good! I think. Better than spreading hate. Hope you can see this note as friendly and respectul advice. Thank you so much for writing this. Have a great day! Stay safe xxx

and this was my response

Hi! Thanks for taking the time to comment, it really means a lot!

I will definitely keep in mind some of your criticisms as I continue writing, however there are a couple of places where our opinions differ, so I’d like to offer an explanation or two as to why I wrote it the way I did.

Firstly, I have to disagree with your statement that sex is about both parties reaching climax. It’s not. Not always anyway. Taking aside any kink related aspects like orgasm denial, sometimes sex just isn’t about finishing. It can be super rewarding and fun even without the orgasm. So much of an orgasm is related to a person’s mental state that little things like their mood or stress level or if they feel pressure to cum can have a huge impact on how easy it is to orgasm. And women especially can have trouble reaching climax. For some people, mostly women though it can affect men too, the sexual disorder anorgasmia makes orgasm physically impossible no matter how much stimulation they receive. So to say sex is about everyone getting to that end point isn’t totally correct. A lot of the time it’s less about the orgasm and more about feeling good during the rest of the act and/or strengthening a connection with a partner. Expecting everyone to orgasm every time is unrealistic and can in fact make it harder. Of course, that’s ignoring people who enjoy the kink side of it, intentionally stopping orgasms. A lot of people take tease and denial beyond just the length of a single sexual encounter, instead stretching it to days or weeks or months or even years of not being able to cum (fully).

Now, in regards to the fic itself. This chapter came about because I’d asked people to request concepts theyd like to see me write as a blurb or short one shot. I neglected to include the actual request in the summary or author note but the request was for a smutty prequel to interloper flashing back to when Reader was a groupie. At the time of writing I had a lot of requests I was trying to get done within a short amount of time so I was trying to keep things as brief as I could while still giving an entire story. The non-sexual aspects of the relationships didn’t feel important to include in this chapter because that wasn’t what was asked for. On top of that, the entire concept of the story hangs on how the sexual relationship dynamics change when the non-sexual relationship dynamics change and I wanted to make sure that wasn’t affected by the prequel. My goal was to establish a connection between the reader character and each of the guys and to make it feel as if there was history there, so I focused on flirty banter that led into sex scenes. And then, at the end of each scene, implied more would happen between the characters “off page”. I added in the Freddie section at the end as a way to solidify this chapter as a prequel and give a little explanation for how the main part starts (of course, at that time there was no third chapter). Plus, as Freddie doesn’t have a sexual relationship with Reader, his non-sexual relationship with her is very different to her relationships with the others, much closer to a friendship. (Which of course paves the way for how he’s on better terms with her at the beginning of the first chapter.)

One thing you imply in your comment is that as an author I should be writing healthy, caring relationships. I love writing those sorts of stories and relationships but I don’t believe I /have/ to write just healthy, caring relationships. I have a total of 38 fics posted on AO3 and I think most of them deal with “healthy” relationships. I make it a point to write aftercare scenes and to establish trust and safe words between my characters in most of my smut writing. And even if I’m exploring heavier kinks like extreme bdsm or hypnosis and bimbofication I do my best to stick to the rules of “safe, sane and consensual”. But, it is not my job as a writer to create morally perfect or role model relationships. I am well within my rights to explore relationships that don’t adhere to what is traditionally considered healthy, be that through ignoring safe words or foregoing aftercare or just having two characters be manipulative and mean to each other. If you want aftercare and “healthy” I have 37 other fics for you to look at. But this chapter doesn’t have to be that for it to be publishable.

And finally, I feel I have to defend Roger a little bit. I can definitely see how he could be read as sexist and I think part of the problem was just me trying to keep it short which meant I didn’t give enough space for Reader’s reactions or enough descriptions of emotion. But to me, as I was writing it, nothing Roger said was intended to be misogynistic or rude. I was playing around with one of my personal favourite kinks, degradation in conjunction with the orgasm denial (another favourite lmao). Everything he said was specifically to humiliate and degrade her, just because that’s what I find hot. Calling her desperate, telling her she sounds pretty begging, talking down to her, implying he’d /use/ her again later, all of that is part of the degradation kink and I intended for it to be a form of dirty talk. Similarly, the part where he says she can leave wasn’t meant to come across as rude. He calls her a good girl and brushes her hair back from her face first (a softer moment, contrasting everything else that happens between them) and then says she can leave, which plays into the denial kink and the idea that it could last longer than the time they were in bed together. Personally, I’m very very into extended denial, especially if it’s treated as a threat of punishment or something like that, and that was the inspiration behind Roger’s section of this chapter.

Thank you again for the comment, it really did make me think about how I’d written this particular chapter and my intentions behind it. And I fully agree that comments like yours can help writers improve! I’ll definitely keep in mind what you’ve said as I work on my next fic and hopefully avoid some of the unintended sexist overtones in future. Have a great day!

#lowkey feel kinda weird posting this here #but i know some of you would be curious enough to go looking for the original comment #and i really don't want it to go any further #which is also why i didn't screenshot the comment with her username or anything like that #constructive criticism is good and helpful #and i know there are things in my writing that could be commented on #and i don't want to discourage her from leaving comments in the future (be they criticism or praise) #i just thought she missed the point on a couple of aspects of his fic #Anonymous

[idk-my-aesthetic]

“Heroes” of our story- family day rewrite

aka the mostly edited d1 fic that's been sitting in my drafts for way too long where mal yells at the “heroes” of auradon

****TW for implied/referenced child abuse and really really brief mention/reference to s*xual ass*ult 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“Because of your mother my daughter was raised by fairies. Her first words, first steps, I missed it all.” Queen Leah gasped out, barely holding herself together. The Isle part of Mal laughed, she wouldn't have lasted an hour back home. But, Auradon had softened her, so she moved in closer, going to comfort the old woman. 

“I’m so sor-” 

Suddenly, Chad was there, blocking her from the woman and pushing her back. “Stay away from her!” He said, angry, like Mal was going to hurt some defenseless old woman. 

She scowled at him, opening her mouth to defend herself, but before she could say anything Ben jumped forward, putting himself between her and the other boy. 

“Don’t do this Chad.” Ben pleaded, acting as a wall between the larger boy and the VKs. Mal felt adrenaline spike in her veins, clenching her fists as she took in the situation around her. People from all across the lawn had stopped to gather and watch, and the other three, her crew, moved in behind her, ready to fight. We were supposed to be safe here. Why can’t we just be safe? 

Chad scoffed at Ben, like what he asked was so ridiculous. “They were raised by their parents, Ben. What do you think villains teach their kids? Huh? Kindness? Fair play? No way, okay?” 

Mal’s ears began to ring. Her instincts screamed out to her.

Take him down before he takes you down.  

Run or fight run or fight do something before someone gets hurt. 

Do whatever you need to, (maim, stab, kill, hurt) to survive.  

But louder than the rest they called out to protect them. 

Chad was a threat. They were surrounded by threats, backed into a corner by sheer numbers. She needed to do something, gain some sort of power, some sort of leverage, some sort of escape. 

So, she laughed. Loud and calculated and cold and evil. And all the hero’s gazes turn to her, fear in their eyes. 

(Though they don’t see the fear in her eyes. Or hear the fear in her laugh, see the fear in the way she held herself, fear in the knives she carried, fear that oozed out of her in a noxious cloud that they were only blind to by choice. Fear that rolled of Jay and Evie and Carlos and every other child on that godforsaken island, visible no matter how hard they tried to keep it in.) 

The crowd stared at her, silenced by her outburst. Some glared with full hostility, some shrank away in fear. Ben turned to her, worried confusion broadcasted on his face. 

She stepped forward, smiling, pushing him to the side. Not quite behind her, but out of the line of fire. Safe. Like the other three were, as long as she kept attention on herself. Like they would be if she could give them an opportunity to escape. 

A gasp rang out at her movement, as if she’d hit him, not given a light push. She ignored it, everything put into her instinct to defend, zeroing in on the boy in front of her.

“You’re right, villains don’t teach love and kindness. They teach cruelty and hatred and revenge.“ She leaned in close, her smile manic. This wasn’t the Mal that came out in Aradon, the closest to the real her. It was the one that would face off against someone on the Isle, the almost feral version ready to do anything to survive and protect those she loved. 

She tilted her head, eyes locked with Chad’s as the boy glared back. “And let me tell you, they are very hands on teachers.” 

“What are you talking about?” Chad practically snarled at her, moving into her space. She smiled, a giggle passing her lips, mocking him. 

“Everyone says you’re not the clearest glass slipper in the shoebox, but I always thought you were at least a bit smarter than that. Smart enough to try and manipulate Evie into doing your homework, but ya know, you’re a good guy, so cheating and manipulation is fine.” She laughed again as he jerked forward, held back by Audrey’s hand grabbing his arm. The girl gave Mal a wide eyed look over Chad’s shoulder, confusion broadcasted on her face. Mal couldn't meet her eyes. 

“Well, since I guess I have to spell it out for you.” She taunted, voice too light, smile too wide, eyes too green. “Please tell me what you think happens when you put hundreds of angry bitter people who hurt others for fun on an island together, and then trap them there with no clean water, no fresh food, and only the literal trash from the people who stuck them there to sustain themselves. Do you think they’d be a little bit angry?” 

“You can’t act like they didn’t deserve it-” A voice called out. Mal met their eyes, her gaze boring into thier’s, silencing them. She noticed idly that she was staring down was the Sultana of Agrabah, a special hatred in her heart for the woman. Jasmine opened her mouth to talk again, but Mal cut her off. She kept the queen’s gaze as she continued, still smiling. 

“How do you think these people will get out their anger, hmm? Do you think they’ll suddenly take up coloring, or do you think they'll keep hurting people because it's all they’ve ever done? And who do you think they're going to hurt, exactly? The heroes are all gone, yes? And, well, they can try to attack the other villains, but that won’t work out all that well, since the other villains are grown adults just as violent and powerful as they are.” Jasmine’s face began to go slack, transitioning from anger to horrified understanding. Mal couldn't help the malicious spike of pleasure at her discomfort. 

“So who are they going to hurt? There's no one weak enough, besides maybe some minions and others who didn’t really deserve to be on the isle, but there's not enough to go around, so the villains mostly stew in their anger and let it build up.” She shrugged, the forced grin growing on her face. 

“Then, all of a sudden, there’s children running around!” Mal swept her gaze around, seeing more and more people are starting to understand, eyes going wide and faces falling. “Since, you know, the only medical shipments are held under a monopoly by Judge Claude Frollo's gang, and contraceptives are rarely sent anyway as they are seen as a ‘luxury’.” Even Chad had backed down at this point, staring at her in slack jawed horror. But she wasn't saying this to just him anymore, she was now speaking to everyone, every privileged prince and princess who left children to die. 

“So, there’s kids running around, practically defenseless little creatures, as pure and innocent as the ones here despite our evil blood. And hey, free fucking target practice.” She finally let her false smile fall, settling into a defiant sneer. A quiet gasp ran through the crowd, horror at conformation of what she’d obviously been implying. 

“If it’s your kid or just some rando on the street who was too stupid to walk around without a knife, then bam! Free punching bag. Or, ya know, perfect way to get rid of your other urges if your disgusting enough, which plenty of the adults on the Isle are.” She scowled, looking around at the crowd of ‘heros’ with cold eyes. They seemed shocked, horrified, some crying. A few look back at her with anger, likely in disbelief or offense at her ‘rudeness’. She made sure to hold those people's gaze a moment longer than others, forcing them to back down first. 

At last, Mal zeros in on Audry’s grandmother's face, seeing the old woman pale and open mouthed with horror. 

“So, I’m sorry if my mother's actions caused you pain. But I have no sympathy for any of you. Because missing your child’s first steps, or not seeing your mother for 16 years, god I wish my childhood was that easy. And I can tell you about a pretty good amount of other kids who agree with me.” She spun on her heel, using the unrest of the crowd, the power she now had over them, to escape. The others followed close behind her, harsh looks given as they left. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

a/n: not my best writing but ive wanted to post this for a little while lol.... i usually post on my ao3 but i may or may not use this as a scene in my d1 rewrite that's gonna be part of my keep them close series so i didn’t wanna post it there.... 

ty for reading please comment and rb!! please im desperate for validation and comments make me post more.... also check out my other descendants stuff maybe? please? i currently have a jay centric fic about his magic in the works, and a few things that i think are pretty ok posted lol...... 

#descendants #mal descendants #mal daughter of maleficent #jay descendants #jay son of jafar #evie daughter of the evil queen #evie descendants #carlos de vil #carlos descendants #ben descendants #ben son of belle and beast #mal x carlos x jay x evie #mal x carlos x jay x evie x ben #core four #core 4 #core five #core 5

[cheddar-the-dog]

tell me again (about how it hurts)

read on ao3

it’s Rosa’s first thanksgiving after coming out to her parents - it’s very angst loaded and centers mostly on Rosa’s journey of it all. written for the fall fic exchange on tumblr for @exploding-snapple: I chose the prompt “Rosa's first Thanksgiving with her family (including her two sisters and their kids) since coming out“ and combined it with Rosa’s and Amy’s friendship because they’re the sleuth sisters!Thank you to @b99fandomevents for organizing the Fall Fic Exchange! You’re doing great! And thank you to @meepmorpperaltiago @enigmatic-b1tch @b99peraltiago and @darkrosemind for being so patient with me and my insecurities.

Now that we have that out of the way:

I really hope you enjoy it!

“Coming out feels like you have no space to rest but everything around you is a bed. It is to watch your loved ones mistake the flowers on your tongue for high-power blades. And nothing you say will make the cuts heal faster but saying nothing, saying nothing will mean the cut stays a cut. Bloodstains the shape of mouths that will spell acceptance only as long as it is another’s daughter. My coming out was an apology repeating itself endlessly until it found out there was no forgiveness.” - Swastika Jajoo

When you got the text from your sister, asking if you’re going to be coming home this weekend for Thanksgiving you froze. For a second there, you stopped breathing and tried to push down the anxiety that rose at the thought of having to go back home. It made you sick but so did it from the first year you moved out. (Ever since you can remember really.)

[[MORE]]

Returning home for Thanksgiving always goes something along the lines of: all your family there and everyone is asking you if you found a good guy yet. Seeing your sisters happily married with their husbands and all their children prancing about. Viewing the whole house as their playground, running around without a sorrow on their mind. Without care or concern for the world around them. And then there’s always been you: alone, different, isolated, alien. Always feeling out of place in the house, in a world, that once had been your playground.

You shuddered at the thought of returning home after what had happened only a few months prior: the restaurant and the shouting, family game night, more shouting (and shouting and shouting and shouting), your father coming to your work to apologize, your mother--

And once upon-a-time-family-game-nights.

And god, the tears. Tears over tears over tears. Your mother’s words burning hot like acid on your skin. A constant reminder that maybe you truly are unloved. That maybe you don’t deserve the love of your family after all.

You always dreaded any family gathering for that matter. The thought of having to hide who you are in front of the people that were supposed to know you since the beginning of time was just-- your family never talked much about anything anyway but this, this always felt different. In an unexplainable gut wrenching way. It makes you sick to your stomach.

And in that moment you just wanted to throw your phone against the wall, scream and hide and cry (no, you don’t cry) and get drunk on tequila by yourself, then get on your motorbike and drive until there’s nowhere to go anymore. Maybe, you thought, you’d discover the end of the world. Maybe you’d just find happiness. Maybe you’d finally find peace. (Maybe you’d cry silent tears when no one else would be around for miles and miles. And maybe your tears wouldn’t be as silent as you made it out in your head. Maybe you’d scream all the pain away.)

You came out to your sisters just after you did to your parents. Since you got out of prison, after being wrongly convicted, it was your thing to meet at least once a month at your older sister’s home to catch up. Your sisters’ thing anyway. They started doing it years and years back.

You remember how anxious you were to introduce them to Alicia, still not ready to do it on your own. To sit across your family and let them in on your deepest, darkest secret. You relive how the anxiety rose at the thought of telling them: “I’m bi and this my girlfriend” and when you did just that you instantly felt like running and running and hiding and cutting off contact with everyone and vanishing from the face of the earth. You recall Alicia’s soft fingertips on the back of your hand, softly caressing it in circular motions. Remember the warm embrace of your older sister, how you were pulled close by her and how the pad of a thumb softly wiped a tear away from your cheek. How you were embraced by the familiar smell of being safe.

Sometimes you still regret being such a closed off person but it had always been easier this way.

“There’s no need to cry, Rosalita”, she’d said “it’s okay. It’s all okay”, followed by the confession that their mother already called to tell them and that they got into a fight over it because it was not their mother’s place to go around and tell everyone about your life.

Followed by another hug.

Followed by the admission that you had already come out to her when you were sixteen and had to be picked up from a house party for the first time. You had been drunk and crying all the way home and when you were asked why there were tears streaming down your face all you could say and repeat was “I’m bi and I know it’s wrong but I don’t know how to stop it, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” before throwing up on your front lawn and then passing out as soon as you got into your bed.

Your face had gone red instantly because you remembered that night vividly: sneaking off and getting drunk out of your mind because you realized you fell for your best friend. Hard. Her luscious blonde hair and red lips. Her smile. The way she carried herself. You later on found out that she was falling for you as well. But then you graduated and moved to different parts of the country and calling daily became calling once a week became texting became silence. And you remember waking up in your own bed. And then there was the fact that your sister had known for twenty years. And yet never told anyone.

At least you had them on your side.

Your other sister had just been sitting there, observing the scene that was unfolding in front of her. She, too, smiled but she, too, wasn’t as good as dealing with emotions as your older sister.

But them not hating you was enough for you.

You got pulled out of your thoughts by a second text, subsequently realizing that you still hadn’t answered the first one yet.

Por supuesto, tu pareja también está invitada. Además, mamá y papá vienen. Espero que sepas que está bien si aún no estás listo para verla. Sé que ha sido difícil para los dos. Solo sé que ella te quiere mucho. Y yo también. Estoy aquí por ti, hermana. Siempre. (Of course your significant other is invited as well. Also, Mom and Dad are coming. I hope that you know that it’s okay if you're not ready to see her yet. I know it���s been hard for the both of you. Just know that she loves you very much. And so do I. I'm here for you, sister. Forever.)

This time, you answered.

I’ll be there.

And then there was the fact that Amy invited herself to join.

(It definitely didn’t happen like this:

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“I’m-- Okay im going to be honest. If you say something I am going to kill you. I have at least three different weapons on me right now. Not counting the work-issued gun. Understood?”

Amy just nodded, smiling.

“I’m going to my parents’ house. And everyone’s going to be there and it’s my first year since coming out and - I can’t believe I’m going to say this - do you want to come? I know that you’re not going home this year. Or to Jake’s. Of course you don’t have to if-“

“No! Of course I’m gonna come. It’ll be great. I can finally learn about high school you Diaz. Maybe I’ll finally find out about the pink hair situa-“

“Okay no. I changed my mind. You can’t come.”

Amy just shrugged, grinning. “Too late. I’m coming and there’s nothing you can do about it.”)

(Secretly, you are more than thankful for Amy tagging along. It seems dumb to you but you still aren’t ready to face your family alone. And now you have all your sisters on your side.)

That’s how you find yourself in the position you are in right now: sitting in the passenger seat of Amy’s car, riddled with anxiety, seemingly not able to muster up the courage to open the car door. Because once that door is open there’s no going back. If you are looking at all of this realistically you know that your family knows you’re here. They must have spotted you by now.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your hand and when you look up you’re met with Amy’s brown eyes and an encouraging smile. “Do you want to leave? We can leave right now if you want to”, she asks, her voice laced with sincerity and concern.

You contemplate it for a second but then shake your head. “Just-- one more minute.”

Thankfully, Amy doesn’t question you and you resume staring at the door handle in silence. Then, you hear the drivers’ door open, feel the weight of the car shift and hear the drivers’ door close again. And then your side opens and Amy is holding out her hand to you. “Come on. You-- we can do this. I’m right by your side and we can leave at any second, no follow up questions.”

Inhaling deeply, you take your friend’s hand and get pulled out of the vehicle. Instantly, all you want is to return back into the safety of the car. And while one door closes behind you, the front door of your childhood home opens up.

You hear the old wooden door creak open and you hope it’s your mother waiting to greet you like she did every day after school. When the smell of freshly cooked food would greet you from all the way down the street and nothing had been broken (yet). When everything seemed to be more alright. When there were secrets standing in between you. When you thought of your mother’s love as something unconditional, unbreakable but deep down knew that this was just part of your imagination because otherwise you would’ve told her.

You gulp at the realization.

Instead of your mother a boy of maybe thirteen years of age comes barreling towards you.

“Tía Rosa!”, he shouts excitedly before almost crashing into you. You let go of Amy’s hand just in time to catch the boy. “I thought you wouldn’t come. I’ve been waiting all day for you!”

And for the first time since you woke up that day, you smile. “Alex! I’m here now aren’t I?”

“I have so much to tell you-“, he starts rambling while pulling you inside the house, Amy follows closely behind.

Once inside, you are immediately embraced by your father’s strong arms. “I missed you, mija”, he admits and then turns to Amy: “Good to see you again, Amy”, before briefly hugging her as well, directing the next sentences to both of you: “You don’t have to help in the kitchen, come and sit with us in the living room”, while already walking into the general direction of it.

That makes you stop dead in your tracks. “I always help in the kitchen. Why am I not supposed to now?” you observe Oscar freezing in his spot but he doesn’t give you an answer.

And you know it’s because it’s your mother doesn’t want to see you. And the feeling if ‘I shouldn’t have come’ creeps up your throat. You want to scream at him and at her but instead you calmly ask: “Is it because Mamí is in there and she doesn’t want me to help?”

You still don’t get an answer.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Oscar slowly turns around, face in agony. He runs his right hand through his hair. “Listen mija, she still-- hasn’t figured it out. And it’s not that she doesn’t want you in there it’s just--“

“- that she doesn’t want me there. Or here, I suppose. Great. I understand”, you complete his sentence after a few seconds of silence. You turn to Amy. “This was a bad idea. We should go.” You then proceed to walk back to the front door, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. You’re not going to cry here. In front of your father. In front of everybody.

In that moment the kitchen door opens and your older sister steps out. Her head is still turned to the kitchen as she finishes the conversation. “- I know! I’ll be right back!” And when she turns, her eyes are met with yours.

“Ro-Ro!”, she exclaims smiling and it sets something off in you and you feel the tears starting to stream down your face. Your older sister hurries to you to embrace you and you hide your face in her sweater.. “No need to cry”, she jokes and then leans in and whispers “you wanna go outside?”

You nod, face still buried in your sister’s neck.

She then turns to Amy, smiling. “You must be Amy. Would you mind helping in the kitchen?”

You can’t help but chuckle through the tears and imagine that Amy blushes furiously. “I’m really bad in the kitchen so it would be a really bad idea. Everything I touch turns into something inedible. I might accidentally burn the house down in the process”, she explains whole your sister leads you out the door.

“You could still join us in the living room”, Oscar suggests is what you hear before the door closes behind you.

You settle down on the steps of the front porch, neither of you talking. You rest your head on your sister’s shoulder and she lightly tangles her fingers in your curls.

“I’m really glad you came”, your sister admits quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. “It’s all going to be alright someday.”

You chuckle bitterly. “Everyone seems to say that. But it really doesn’t look like it. And I’m really scared it never will be again.” Your voice breaks at the last few words. There’s tears streaming down your face again.

After about ten more minutes of silence, your sister gets up from the steps again. “I have to get back to helping. You know how Mamí is. She’ll-- She’ll come around eventually, Ro. Just give her some more time, okay?”

You nod.

You don’t know what you’re supposed to say when you know the things you are promised might just be someone saying something in the spur of the moment. And doesn’t mean it. So you don’t say anything. “Do you want me to bring Amy?”, your sister asks instead. You shake your head.

“I’ll be right in.”

As soon as the front door closes again, you are hit by another wave of sadness and tears. Before all of this happened you never knew you could cry this much in one day. You just want to be alone in your apartment and get drunk and hide under your covers in the dark and reread the text exchange between Alicia and yourself.

Alicia.

You hadn’t thought about your ex-girlfriend in days.

You miss Alicia. Miss the warmth she provided and the arms holding you tight at night when the nightmares of prison were haunting you again. Miss her smooth skin and soft melodic voice. Miss her every time you lay in the bed that now feels too big for one single person. Miss her laugh and waking up next to her. Miss how you could be your true, vulnerable self around her. Miss her

You miss Alicia and your mother. Your mother that’s no ten meters away from you but doesn’t want to see you.

And it hurts.

“Why are crying?”, Alex’s voice suddenly asks. “You’re too badass to cry.” He frowns as if he only realized in that second that he can’t quite put his finger on what exactly was wrong. You wipe the tears off your face in a hurry before being handed a tissue by your nephew.

“Well, everything feels different now,'' you admit without thinking and sigh. “Mamí isn’t talking to me and it’s weird, y’know? I’m not allowed in the kitchen and just being here feels wrong.” There’s a short period of silence, Alex waiting for you to finish. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“You should have because I wanted to see you. I missed you. We all did. Is it because of the fight you had with Grandma?”

You wonder how he knows about this and how he’s so compassionate for his thirteen years of age. How considerate he is. Your sister did a great job raising him, you think. You contemplate if telling him would be the right thing to do but the words tumble out of your mouth before you can come to a decision. “Yeah. Because I told her I am bisexual. Do you know what that means?”

To your surprise, Alex nods in understanding. “Of course I do. Mom explained it all to me when I was like nine”, he tells you as if you should have been aware of him knowing. As if he was stating the obvious. Of course he knows. His mom talked to him about it. You’re both quiet for a moment until Alex adds: “I think I am, too, actually. Bisexual, I mean.”

’Okay, cool cool cool cool cool’, you think. “When did you realize?” You hate being asked this question but it’s the only thing coming to you right now.

“Easy. I was watching Cloak & Dagger and I thought Dagger: hot. Cloak: also hot.”

You have to laugh. “Have you ever seen Saved By The Bell?”, Alex shakes his head. “We definitely have to watch it! You’ll love it.” You didn’t realize how close he’d been all of a sudden until he hugs you tightly.

“You’re the coolest, Rosa. And I’m glad you came even though Grandma isn’t talking to you. I like hanging out with you, you’re like my hero. I mean Mom knows about me maybe being bi but it’s cool to have you to talk to about it. It was cool hanging out with you before already but now it’s even cooler.”

You don’t know what to say so you pull him closer.

Hero. It leaves a bitter aftertaste of responsibility in your mouth. But it's one you’re ready to take on.

It’s quiet between you until Alex mumbles ”I don’t want Grandma to hate me, too.” And you’re pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear this but you did.

“She doesn’t hate you”, you want to say. “She doesn’t really hate either of us. It’s just hard on her. I get that. It’s always different when it’s your own family.” But you know it’s just a lot of empty words strung together so instead you pull him even closer and say “Yeah, I know exactly how you feel. You’ll always have your mother and me though.”

He nods solemnly before asking her “Do you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?”, and you sigh.

“I had. But we broke up last week because she got offered a place to study in London. She left yesterday morning.”

Alex just nods.

You feel the wind touch your skin harshly and you realize that neither of you wears a jacket. After observing the goosebumps for a second you suggest to head inside in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “I’m freezing!”, you add for good measure.

Alex jumps to his feet and follows you inside and you’re immediately embraced by the warmth of the house.

By now you made peace with the idea of having to spend the remainder of the evening with your dad and Amy and your sisters’ husbands and kids in the living room.

What you dont expect when you turn the corner though, is to encounter your mother in the living room, animatedly chatting away with Amy, who is surrounded by the younger children.

It’s the first time you’ve seen her since the futile game of Pictionary, where you had to explain to your parents that being bisexual is a thing because you are it. And then telling you that it’s a phase and you’ll marry a man and have grandchildren with him.

When you dare to step into the living room, everything suddenly quiets down and the tension in the room is palpable. You feel like choking the second you make eye contact with your mother and you’re aware of your heart starting to race and your palms getting sweaty.

And you can’t breathe anymore.

“Mamí”, you force out, your voice laced with pain. “Lo siento. Te extraño. Por favor perdoname.” (Mom, I’m sorry. I miss you. Please forgive me.) You don’t know what she should forgive you for because it should be the other way around, her seeking your forgiveness but all you want is to hear her speak and take you into her arms.

And make peace.

Your mother looks at you and you can clearly see the tears in her eyes. The struggle within herself is visible even across the room.

It looks like she’s trying to go over to you, struggling with herself. Then, without a word, she turns away and disappears back into the kitchen.

You still stand there, petrified in place for what feels like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than fifteen seconds. You feel your nephew hugging you tight, feel his pain translate into your body. The ringing in your ears gets louder and you are starting to feel dizzy. And then Amy is grabbing your hand. Your father is trying to apologize to you but you can’t hear him because there’s a ringing in your ears. You can just barely make him out through the blurriness of your view.

Amy leads you to her car and you get in, woodenly, staring ahead into emptiness. You feel Amy reaching over your body to buckle you in and then she’s driving.

And then she’s not.

And then you cry.

You cry and cry and cry while your friend holds your hand and you sit in silence until you’re all cried out. She drives you home and you get drunk on various kinds of liquor together. When Amy reaches her Six-Drink-Potential you tell her about Alicia and how you miss your mother and she tells you about her struggles while you and her fiancé were in prison.

You fall asleep on the living room floor where Jake finds you the next day.

(It takes you almost six months, a particularly gory case that entails the mother of the victim which reminded you so much of the relationship you had to have with your mother and the tenacity of both your best friend and your current girlfriend respectively until you muster up the courage to call your mother and ask her to meet you at the precinct after work.

She agrees.)

#b99fandomevents #b99 2019 fall fic exchange #b99 fall fic exchange #exploding-snapple #b99 fic #rosa diaz #shit ell writes

[crowsent]

👶,⭐,💘, and💻. Love you!!

thank you for ask anon! writer ask game is here if yall wanna send in something. still taking asks for these btw

👶- advice for new writers =

yall this is hella fucking generic but PRACTISE. theres a reason almost literally every writer on tumblr gives the advise of “practise practise practise” and that reason is it works. practise doesnt mean ‘oh just write bc youll automatically get better over time’ it means ‘write bc if you dont, you wont figure out what you need to improve.’ did yall know that i literally had no sentence variation in the past? i started every sentence with [character name] or [character pronoun] and i didnt realise until i was 15/16 and i only realised bc i started writing a lot.

i think there’s a fear of failure with new writers. there’s this lingering doubt of  “what if its not good?” and boy howdy i will answer that question right fucking now. it wont be good. when i compare my current work to my earlier work, my earlier work sucked fucking shit. i spelled soldier with a fucking ‘j’ and i had no idea what the hell a point of view was. and thats okay. whoever tells you that youre going to perfect writing is a fucking liar. there is no perfecting writing. 20 years from now, imma look at the writing from today and im gonna think it sucks shit. writing is a process. its a craft. you get better and better over time and the way you get better is by experimenting w different styles, different genres, different ways of writing.

and the only way you can experiment and improve is through practise. in video games, especially rpgs (which are my favourite kind of video games), you struggle in the early game. youre at a low level, you dont have good equipment, you have a hard time moving to the next area. but the only way you progress is by grinding, gaining levels, and getting stronger. same w writing. if youre a level 1 writer, just starting out, no idea what to do, just experiment. fuck around a bit. write crackships, write rarepairs, write niche self-indulgent reader/character fics. at the end of the day, you should write for yourself. its good and cool if other people like your stuff and validate all your hard work, but at the end of the day, the one who should enjoy your writing the most is yourself.

you WILL mess up and you WILL struggle, but thats the only way you can improve. i struggle with pacing the most. still do. but others might have pacing down pat and struggle instead with word choice or pov or something else. cant figure out where you need to improve if you dont write, so just practise and worry about all the fine print later

⭐️- how do you get your inspiration? =

this is definitely not universal, but i just sit on my bed, close my eyes, and meditate. cycle through all my emotions and thoughts and filter them out. then i just toss everything out the damn window. like. id just meditate for a while, focus on breathing, on experiencing the present, picture a field and a tree and myself and breathe. thoughts fly by and i let them happen but dont focus on it.

meditating gives me some semblance of emotional control bc i normally have none, and it gives me kind of this space. this safe space that only exists for me and me alone. so i use that space to let the world drift away. just me and my thoughts and sometimes, those thoughts end up being good writing ideas. but i usually meditate for a set amount of time. like 15 minutes or 30 minutes so i dont write until i finish meditating.

then when i get out of my headspace, i open up my laptop and see what i remember. thinking too hard about something causes it to muddy up. same with art. in digital art, artists flip the canvas to refresh their eyes, see if there’s anything weird or wonky about the illustration that they normally dont see bc theyve gotten used to it. flipping the canvas is like giving our eyes a jumpstart and lets us see what we could do better. in traditional art, its turning the canvas this way and that or repositioning yourself. meditating is like that. a break. a cleanse. a kind of pause where you dont think about anything and just try to process what you already have. you relax and kind of let yourself float down a river of thoughts and sometimes, a fish would jump out of that river and youd go “hey, thats a good idea. i should try that” so when you get out of the river, youre refreshed and ready to go.

same principle with showers. more ideas come to you in the shower when you dont have anything to write with bc youre not thinking about it. youre not focusing on finding inspiration or motivation so ideas naturally flow through you. you know that feeling when you want to do x then someone comes along and says “hey you should do x” and suddenly all motivation to do x leaves? same w your brain. focus too much on “i should be writing” or “i want inspiration” and its never gonna come. just let things happen. at least, thats how i do it. some people might get inspiration by reading or watching tv. everyones different so if thats not what works out for you, dont feel pressured to try my method

💘- what’s your favorite AU? Least favorite? =

magic au. specifically fantasy au set in like a pre-modern era. shows like avatar where theres all this magic and fantastical beasts and so on and so forth. semi-modern like six of crows and nevernight are great too. i want that magic to be woven into people’s lives. harry potter is okay but there’s like this separation between magic and muggle. there’s this feeling of “magic” but like as a tool. like a spoon or a gun or a shovel. i want magic au’s that are INTEGRATED with the world its set in.

like in atla, earth kingdom people have trains they move with bending while fire nation people have machines powered by heat and steam. both correspond to their bending and makes sense for the world they live in. but if your plot is like harry potter and its less worldbuilding and more action, then there’s this book series called seasons rising (read it. so good) where there’s a bunch of spells but the spells have character. the people using the spells GIVE it character and it feels much more intimate. pokemon does the whole fantasy mixed w reality better. give two trainers the exact same pokemon and by the time that pokemon reaches lvl 50, its gonna have a different moveset, different fight style, etc bc it was shaped by the world and people around it. i like harry potter but tbh it could have been so much better

for the least favourite au, it’s A/B/O i dont like the whole “omegas are only good for breeding hurr durr” and “alphas are violent and aggressive and cant control themselves around omegas” thing and it squicks me out. major squick. i read the original harry potter squick (THAT one. yeah. you know the one) and i still hate a/b/o more. i get why people like it, and there are one or two fics set in a/b/o au that i enjoy reading, but as a whole, i severely dislike a/b/o fics.

the themes are squick, the character dynamics get so messed up, and shipping dynamics (bc a/b/o fics usually have shipping) just get so blown out of proportion. there are so many a/b/o fics that turn ooc or the character interpretations radically change or something else. no hate against a/b/o fans bc yall are amazing for writing/drawing yalls au. there are things that you can only do in this setting and exploring those things can be incredibly fun for people, but for me personally, its not an au i like to visit.

💻- three works of yours that are must reads =

i. dont know what fandom youre in anon or your genre preferences. so ill just rec you one fic for a different fandom each with kind of different genres. ts masterlist is on my side @hufflepuff-deceit and regular fanfic masterlist is on my writing blog @crownonymous 

(BNHA) Viper. its my first serious attempt at fanfic in YEARS and its my baby. currently has 7 chapters, i havent updated it in a while bc im hyperfocused on ts rn, but i love it to bits. its just all of my fav bnha fics crammed into one fic. quirkless kind of villain izuku with stain as a mentor as they work together to bring light to the injustices of hero society and where bakugos bullying has visible and long-lasting repercussions? sign me the fuck up. you can read it on ao3 HERE bc its not on tumblr. kind of fast-paced, has a lot more action scenes than anything else ive written. heavy plot-wise but has a lot of humour and comedy to break things up

(Kimetsu no Yaiba) I Pray To God He Hears You. not related to my other kny fic oleander which is a multichap retelling au. iptghhy is a standalone one-shot and kind of a character study on one giyuu tomioka. i love him so much. giyuu is my baby and i adore him. so of course i wrote a sad fic focusing on him. well technically, the fic focuses on giyuu AND his relationships.  SPOILERS for chapters 130 and 131 of the manga. focuses mostly on giyuu and sabito, but there’s a fair bit of giyuu and tanjiro and urokodaki.  you can read it HERE bc this is also not on tumblr. also deals with heavy things but more emotion-wise since it doesnt have that much of a plot. loss. grief. moving on. survivors guilt. that kind of stuff.  very sad. hurt but with comfort, especially at the end.

(Sanders Sides) Logan’s Birthday Fic: Logicality. just what the title says. i wrote 5 different fics and published them all on logans bday but the logicality one received the most feedback and honestly? the cutest of the bunch. its gonna be crossposted onto ao3 but for now, you can read it HERE on my ts sideblog. theres no plot since its literally just domestic and relationship fluff. and puns. patton is in the fic, theres gonna be puns. nothing but good things and warm feelings bc logan deserves it.

-

thank you so much for such interesting asks anon! i enjoyed answering these. have a lovely day!

#crowsas answers #kny #bnha #sanders sides

[canadiankazz]

The Fourth Time - An L.A. by Night fanfic

Jasper and Annabelle's relationship has taken a lot of intimate steps lately, but when she lets him take the reins, so to speak, and let his more dominant side out, they manage to find a way to get even more pleasure out of it. 

SPOILERS for the end of Campaign 1 including the one-shots. This has gone off canon, so consider this an AU. It's worth reading Part 1 (The First Time), Part 2 (The Second Time) and Part 3 (The Third Time) before you read this. This fic takes place almost directly after The Third Time. This was written before the premiere of Season 2, Episode 2.

I lay no claim to owning any of the characters involved. Things are gonna get more kinky than they have been in this series so far from here on out. We are way past tame wrist biting now. We’re getting into some mild BDSM stuff in this part.

As always, special thanks to @cravatfiend for the support and encouragement during the writing of the drafts. When I asked them for a safe word, they picked the best one for Annabelle. I had the privilege of watching them read this for the first time and all they could say was "...Damn!" High praise, indeed. 

All my love, also, to @gokaiyellow for their additional input, @fluffy-wookiees for being adorable, and to everyone else who has enjoyed this series so far. There are many more parts to come after this one, no worries. (As of posting, I’m currently finishing writing part 8 with ideas for part 9!)

Also posted to the author's Ao3.

First posted Feb, 2, 2019.

The Entire ‘Feeds From’ Master List Can be Found Here

The Fourth Time

Annabelle was having a nightmare. She was running for her life through a dark sewer. Her shoes splashed through the filth. Rats squeaked and scattered in a panic as she charged forwards. Behind her, she could hear a dreadful snarling echoing through the tunnel. She couldn’t see the monster chasing her, but she could hear it. Its hungry growling was getting closer and closer. When, not if, but when it caught her, it was going to rip her apart and eat her alive. Her eyes scanned the walls and curved ceiling frantically for a ladder or escape hatch up to the streets above. There! A ladder appeared to her right. She climbed it as fast as she could, but right when she was about to push up through the manhole cover, she felt sharp claws grab her leg and pull her back down. She screamed.

Annabelle woke with a shudder. Her Beast strained in her chest and throat. The room she was in was dark. There were no windows. She was on her side facing a blank wall. She could feel someone else's body pressed against her back and a long arm curved cosily around her side and stomach that was not her own. There was no breath or body heat coming from the person behind her.

Then she remembered. She was in Jasper's sanctum again. In his bed, again. And he had fed on her last night, again. And now...

She tried to turn her head to look at him without disturbing him. His arm tightened around her a little.

“Jasper?” she whispered.

“Mm.”

He was awake. Annabelle relaxed a little and went back to looking at the wall. He seemed comfortable where he was and so was she, to her mild surprise. Their relationship had taken many great leaps these past few months.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Sleep well?”

“Like the dead.”

She rolled her eyes and poked his arm. “Ha. Ha.”

She heard him snarl softly in her ear as he smiled.

“You need a bigger bed,” she told him.

“Why?”

“Because we only barely fit on it.”

“I thought that this was only going to be a temporary thing,” he said, sounding amused. “Something to tie me over for a little while.”

“Well, clearly... it's not,” Annabelle said softly.

“We can't keep doing this forever,” he told her. His voice was gentle, but firm. “The others are going to find out, and... it's not a healthy relationship.”

Annabelle frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is that...” he sighed, thinking of what to say. She felt him roll back slightly away from her. “It's one sided.”

“No... you feed from me sometimes and let me sleep in your bed sometimes, that's fair.”

“But you don't have to sleep here.”

“You don't have to feed from me either, but here we are,” Annabelle said pointedly. She sighed and touched his hand. “I don't want to argue with you. I... I am happy for this to continue as long as you want. I don't feel like it's one sided, Jasper. I thought you liked it... Liked me.”

“I do,” he admitted softly, “but that’s the problem. I think I’m liking it too much and... that scares me.”

Annabelle thought she understood now. He had told her that a Kindred feeding from another was a big deal and she got why now. Blood was more than just food for them, it was life, and sharing your life with someone else left a big impact. So too did someone forcibly taking it away. He had been trying to adjust to this new, kinder type of feeding and despite the fact that they had only done it three or four times in the past few months, maybe things were still, on an emotional level, going a little too fast for him. Annabelle awkwardly shifted, rolling over to face him. His hoodie was down. From what little light there was in the bedroom, she could see his pale, gaunt face. “It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t let it scare you. I think I get it though. We’ve been kind of going at my pace a little bit.”

Jasper remained quiet, but gave a slight nod. He could see she was more or less on the right track. He felt it in his blood.

“Okay,” Annabelle sighed slowly. “Do you want some emotional space?”

“I think so. To think things over.”

Annabelle nodded and stroked his arm. Her Vitae has done a good job healing him. “Okay,” she said. She didn’t want to make Jasper uncomfortable in this relationship. “How about this... if you want to do this again, you call me, okay? And we’ll do it however you want to.”

“Okay,” Jasper said. He lent forward a little and his forehead touched Annabelle’s for a brief, tender moment. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he rolled over and got out of bed.

Annabelle stayed where she was, not wanting to get up yet. “You still owe me a boon, remember?”

“Mm. True.”

“And I've thought about what I want from you. If anything happens to me, anything really bad, I want you to take care of Mark and Elleanore for me.”

“What do you mean by 'take care of?'” he asked.

“Watch out for them. Make sure they don't get attacked, I guess? Just keep them safe, as best you can.” Her hand found her golden locket around her neck and held it.

Jasper considered this briefly and decided that it wasn't unreasonable. It was certainly less embarrassing than teaching X how to moonwalk. “Alright,” he nodded.

“Thank you,” Annabelle said tenderly.

Then Jasper stretched his long limbs. Annabelle could her his joints crack and pop. She sat up and sighed. She was hungry. She needed to go.

She packed up her laptop and the little plastic candles she had brought the night before. Jasper helped to collect them. “Will I see you again later?” She asked hopefully.

Jasper shrugged. “At some point, yes. I want to explore my labyrinth this week, and I know the others will be tracking down those other Kindred who attacked us the other night. We should help with that.”

Annabelle nodded. She was angry that her group had been attacked and she hadn't been there to help. At least she could help in the aftermath. She dreaded to think what would have become of Jasper if she hadn't gotten to him when she did. “Yeah.”

An invisible Jasper walked Annabelle to Griffith College, then they parted ways. They both had a lot to do.

**

Jasper kept himself busy over the next few weeks. He explored his labyrinth. He visited Eva. He received and carried out more jobs for Baron Abrams. All the while, Annabelle's movements and moods were in the back of his mind. The longer he went without feeding on her, the weaker his bond with her became. Part of him missed that. He found himself delaying finding another more permanent solution to his empty larder. He knew that eventually he would have to go back to his more aggressive feeding style, but he also knew he would miss having someone give him their honest and thoughtful consent. It made him feel a tiny bit less like a monster.

That got him thinking. Despite himself, he started to formulate a plan, purely hypothetical, of how his next feeding session with Annabelle could go. She had asked him to come back to her when he was ready to initiate things again and had said that they could do things his way if they wanted to. He had genuinely appreciated that. There was something dominant about him that was asking to be satisfied. Every time it came down to the act of feeding in the past, Jasper had been violent and dominant. Until Annabelle came along and offered herself to him, that is. That had changed things. Jasper had become what was for him, very submissive. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but it wasn't what he wanted to be doing all the time, every time.

He was curious, also, about how far he could push Annabelle's boundaries. She was the one who always wanted more and he had been holding back. He knew very well what he was physically capable of and what his Beast demanded of him. The thought of challenging Annabelle, daring her to keep up with him intrigued him. By the time Jasper finished planning the night he had in mind, he knew that he might regret it forever if he didn't try it. The worst that would happen was Annabelle would say no. He might be a little disappointed, but that was nothing new. He waited another few nights, then decided to set his plan in motion.

**

Annabelle was on her way home when she thought she heard something behind her. She paused, straining her senses, searching for something unseen. At first, there was nothing, then she heard Jasper’s disembodied voice in her ear. “Hey.”

She jumped. “God...!”

“No, just me.” Jasper sounded highly amused.

“Jasper, what are you doing?” She hissed, annoyed at being startled like that.

“I was going to ask you...” he started, then hesitated, possibly reconsidering his words. “Would like to come over tomorrow night for another round?”

Annabelle felt a ghost of a touch on her neck and shoulder, right where he had bitten her last time. She shivered and something deep in her core twisted in the memory of pleasure. “Uhhh... sure,” she said faintly. Her mouth was dry and she swallowed. “Can I ask why? I thought you might not want to any more.”

“I’d been thinking,” Jasper said in her ear with a light snarl, “that there are a few things I would like to try with a consenting individual such as yourself, and I don’t know when I will get the chance to do them again. I would be a fool to not ask.” He put special emphasis on the word ‘consenting.’ His voice was soft and sensual, unusually so, but it was undercut with a thirst that Annabelle recognised.

“Okay, um... how about I come over tomorrow and we’ll talk about it and... see where we go from there,” she said.

“Alright. Come by 3:00,” Jasper replied, “and bring those little plastic candles. And yes... you may sleep over as well.”

Annabelle nodded. “See you then.”

“Oh, one last thing...” she felt Jasper’s lips on her ear and she shivered again, despite herself. “In the meantime, can you think of a safe word, please?”

Annabelle’s eyes went very wide. What on earth could he be planning that would need a safe word? “Uh...” she stammered.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course. Well, I have to, for us to do this, right?”

“We don’t have to do this,” he reminded her.

“I know, but... I want to.” Annabelle swallowed nervously and steadied her nerves. “Okay. I’ll think of something.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

She didn’t hear him leave, but she hadn’t heard him approach either. She stood there in mild shock for another little while with her hands over her mouth and cheeks. She cursed herself for being as excited as she was. This was going to be very, very interesting. She hurried the rest of the way home.

**

When Annabelle arrived once again at Jasper's sanctum the next night, she had her bag with her with the plastic candles and her laptop in it. She had fed earlier, as much as she could without killing any one. She was almost beside herself with nervous excitement. Part of her thought that she should be more apprehensive, that she should let someone know where she was just in case things went bad. But she trusted Jasper. He had been very good to her so far, very good indeed, and he didn't seem to want to ruin this relationship they had going. She trusted the control he had over himself. She still believed that, over-all, he wasn't a bad guy.

She knocked on his front door. Jasper answered it quickly. He had been waiting for her in the passage way on the other side again. He was wearing a different black hoodie this night. This one had fewer layers and just a straight zipper up and down. It was casual. Easy to get into and out of. Interesting.

They smiled at each other and Jasper invited her in. She followed him closely back down the long passage way, though she was sure by now she had the route memorised. They caught up with a little small talk. As they got closer to his rooms, Annabelle could hear faint music. It was classical, something with an orchestra and a choir. They weren't singing in English... Latin, maybe? Annabelle wasn't as knowledgeable on her classical pieces. “You're playing music?” She asked, pleased and surprised.

“Yeah, to set a mood.” Jasper smirked at her. She recognised her own line that she had used on him last time she was here.

“Oh, I see,” she chuckled. “What is it?”

“Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor.” Jasper licked his fangs. “Tell me... have you learned Blush of Life yet?”

“Um... yeah. Yes, I have.” Annabelle had used it very successfully around Elleanore. It gave her a pulse, warmed her skin, let her breathe and otherwise seem almost entirely human again. Annabelle tilted her head a little at Jasper, slowly working out what he had planned. “Why?”

His grin was sharp. “I would like you to use it tonight.”

“Oh... yeah, sure. Right now?”

“If you'd like, or we can wait until we get to the bedroom.”

“I'll wait,” she decided. So far, she liked where this was going.

In the bedroom, they set up her candles on the floor as they did last time. The room was soon full of artificial, warm candlelight. The classical music continued in the background, unobtrusive.

“Did you decide on a safe word?” Jasper inquired.

“Yeah. Um... are you familiar with the stoplight method?”

He considered it. “Red, yellow, green?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Green means go, yellow means slow down, and red means stop. It's basic, but effective.”

Jasper nodded. “Alright. We're going to use that tonight. Unless I hear you say 'yellow' or 'red,' I'm going to assume that everything is green.”

“No gags, then, please,” Annabelle specified.

“No,” Jasper agreed. That had never been a part of his plan for tonight.

Annabelle kept glancing at his fangs while he spoke. She couldn’t help it. His eyes had a hungry and excited gleam. She suspected that he and his Beast were working in near harmony tonight. Well, they had their safe word in place. Everything would be okay. She was feeling brave and keen to see how far Jasper was going to push things tonight.

When she was ready, Annabelle nodded and slipped off her red jacket, as was their custom by now. She had worn the good bra again. Jasper recognised the shape of it under her thin tank top. He snarled a little when he smiled.

“On the bed, please,” he gestured to the bed. Annabelle complied, her lips twitching into a little smile. She sat on the bed, then lay back. As she did so, she activated Blush of Life. Her Beast stirred a little, but was still mostly dormant. She glanced at Jasper. He was staring at her with an expression of incredible desire. He came over to her and sat on the bed. He held her hand and seemed to marvel for a few seconds at its warmth. Annabelle's body fell back into the natural rhythm of breathing. Jasper felt her pulse in her wrist. His fingers were very cold by comparison, and felt very dead. He snarled to himself, pleased.

“I don't have Blush of Life,” he explained softly. “I never bothered to learn how to do it. I mean... why would I? Who am I going to try to convince that I'm alive?”

“You still could learn,” Annabelle said. She could think of at least one person he might have used Blush of Life on, if he could, but bringing up that person was very likely going to ruin the mood, so she didn't.

He shook his head. “I could, but it's doubtful.” He seemed to be enjoying just feeling her hands for a moment. The classical music swelled and faded into a new piece of a similar feel to the last, but a faster tempo.

Jasper moved suddenly. With little warning, he was on top of Annabelle, straddling her hips. He had one knee pressed on either side of her ribs. He wasn't very heavy, especially not for a Brujah's strength to support. Annabelle's insides quivered in anticipation. She felt vulnerable, but she remembered all she had to do was say one or two words and he would stop. She understood finally what he had been planning. Jasper looked down at Annabelle, his icy eyes boring into hers. Her heartbeat sped up considerably. Her face flushed. She met his gaze, excited but steady. The degree to which she wanted this to continue bewildered her.

Slowly now, he peeled his hood off his head. Then his hands went to the zipper in the front of his hoodie and he slowly began to tug it down. Annabelle's eyes went wide as Jasper's chest was exposed. He was built of nothing but lean muscle. His flesh was as pale as death save for the starkly contrasting mass of black veins that criss-crossed his body like an insane roadway map. He had no body hair. He unzipped the hoodie down to the bottom, but didn't take it all the way off. This was a compromise, she realised. She had wanted to see what he looked like under his layers for a while, and he had always said no. This was an in-between he was allowing her.

She gave him a warm smile, but when she reached to touch him he stopped her. He gripped one hand in each of his and leaned down over her. He pinned her warm hands and wrists down with his deathly cold hands to the mattress above her head. He continued to watch her, as if daring her to say 'yellow' or 'red.' She didn't. His grip on her was strong. Their faces were close now. Annabelle was breathing hard.

Jasper bared his fangs and growled at her, as if trying to scare her. He was the monster from myth and legend, the deadly black shadow with razor sharp fangs who stalked helpless people at night and she was the young, naive victim. He was perhaps even trying to provoke her one last time into saying their safe word. She did look scared for a moment. There was fear in her eyes, in her Beast, but still she didn’t say either of the words that would make Jasper pull back. A true victim, she was no longer. Annabelle was allowing this to happen.

“Green?” he rasped, edging towards losing control.

“Green,” she nodded and tilted her head to expose her neck. Blood, warm blood, flowed there, and some of it at least, was his for the taking.

The music swelled again in the background as the choir reached a melodramatic crescendo. With a hungry snarl Jasper bit Annabelle hard in the throat. She gasped at the pain. Jasper had good aim. His long, wicked fangs had landed right on her jugular. He bit deep, and his mouth filled with Vitae. She was as sweet, strong and aroused as always, but this time her blood was body temperature. Jasper had never had warm Vitae from another Kindred before. His Beast exalted. He began to drink greedily, keeping an ear open for Annabelle wanting to end this early. He hoped she would not.

The pleasure of the Kiss soon followed, radiating out over Annabelle's body and making her moan. Her eyes rolled back in her skull. She flexed her arms against Jasper, but he still held her down, firmly pinning her to the mattress. Her body, still under the influence of Blush of Life, reacted as it normally would have to intense pleasure. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her pulse raced, sending vital blood into Jasper's hungry mouth. Her brain was very soon dizzy, but she didn't care. Her Beast scrambled, but was soundly ignored in the overwhelming wave of sensations. Annabelle didn't know if it was because of this new, intense situation or the anticipation that had led up to it, but the pleasure this time was near orgasmic. When she felt Jasper bite a little harder in his enthusiasm, it crossed that threshold and she crested with a cry. Annabelle's body trembled uncontrollably underneath Jasper's from her core outwards.

Jasper lingered on Annabelle's throat for a moment or two longer, then pulled his head back with a snarl. His fangs and tongue were painted a deep crimson. Annabelle only barely noticed this. She shivered when he licked her wound closed and he thought he heard her whimper. His Beast whispered at him to continue, that this had been the best he ever had, but he clenched his jaw and ignored it.

Jasper sat up and let her hands go. She didn't move them. She lay there still, breathing hard, eyes closed. Each exhale had a little moan attached to it. He watched her chest heave up and down for a minute. The music faded and changed again to a soprano singing backed by strings and a piano.

Annabelle opened her eyes and saw Jasper watching her. He was still straddling her hips. She smiled up at him. “Wow,” she mumbled. She lowered her hands and rested them on his knees on either side of her body. Jasper didn’t mind. He chuckled at her reaction. “I... mm...” Words were failing her as her blood-deprived brain swam in a haze of endorphins.

“Good?” Jasper confirmed.

Annabelle still couldn’t speak, but she nodded.

Jasper slid carefully off of her and sat on the bed next to her. He hadn't taken a lot of Vitae this time, but what he had taken was potent indeed. His head was also filled with endorphins, mainly from her, but he didn't have the Blush of Life to let his body do anything about it.

“I can't believe you let me do that,” he chuckled softly. He re-zipped up his hoodie, but only part way. He left the top third or so of it open. “I thought for sure you were going to stop me when I pinned you down.”

Annabelle stretched and smiled at him. Other than an internal scolding from her Beast, she was content, still reeling slightly from the pleasures she had been through. “But I didn't.”

Jasper relaxed down next to her on the narrow bed as best he could. He found himself playing a little with her long, black hair. Their bond had deepened again, he knew. At that moment, in that place, he did not care. “You liked it... rather a lot,” he remarked, still amused. His fangs, when Annabelle saw them, were clean now.

“Yeah...” Annabelle marvelled. She covered her face with her hands as embarrassment washed over her. The pleasure this time had been too, too much. “Oh my God!” he heard her muffled giggle.

“What?” Jasper inquired, though he was fully aware of what had happened to her body and why. He was having fun.

Annabelle peeked at him through her fingers. She was grinning. “Is that what you had planned?” she demanded.

“More or less, yes. I'm glad it worked.”

Annabelle groaned softly. “Did you know about... that I would...”

Jasper smirked. “I kind of suspected... but no, but it was a pleasant surprise.” He stroked a cold, pale hand down her arm to her chest, where it settled over her still-beating heart.

“Boy, I'll say,” Annabelle agreed.

Feeling Annabelle's magically enforced heartbeat made Jasper get very quiet and suddenly a little introverted. His eyes found the gold locket hanging around Annabelle's neck and the silver ring on her finger and he pulled his hand back. He got up and went to turn off the music and the lights so that they could settle into bed.

When dawn broke over the City of Angels, the majority of the population arose to begin their day of work and school and life, but Jasper and Annabelle were once again literally dead to the world. The two vampires shared the little bed, holding each other. Where their relationship would take them now, neither of them knew, but in that moment at least, they were content.

#l.a. by night #la by night #vampire the masquerade #fanfic #fanfiction #jasper/annabelle #i think this is my favourite part so far #vampire smut #jaspabelle #jasper #annabelle #times jasper fed from annabelle

[gracetrack-higgins]

Secrets

welcome to my super angsty Sprace fic! it’s posted on Ao3 but I figured I’d put it here too! it’s pretty long (5k+ words!) and very angsty. I’ll put any warnings in the tags :)

*

You know Spot Conlon, right? I heard he’ll soak anyone who ain’t Brooklyn.

I heard he killed a gangsta’ who was botherin’ his Newsies.

I heard he got inta a fight wit’ a kid from the Bronx so bad the kid was laid up inna hospital for a month.

I’s heard he ain’t even real. Brooklyn kids made ‘im up so’s they look nice an’ tough.

Nah, he’s real. I saw ‘im on the Bridge one time, yellin’ at a scab or sommit.

Nuh-uh!

Yeah-huh!

I heard’s he’s a better pape’s sella’ than Jack.

Betta’ than anya us.

I heard he jumped inta the river to save a drownin’ kid!

That ain’t true!

I still don’t think he’s real.

Racetrack Higgins smirked to himself a little as he listened to the younger Newsies’ whispered speculations about the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies. At one time, Race probably would’ve believed the tall tales surrounding Spot. If he didn’t know him, that is. Race thought it rather funny how many stories there were about Spot, ones that any kid would believe. Only two of ‘em were true so far.

Race glanced at the little Newsies huddled around an overturned crate that the boys used as a table in the Lodging House. They were playing cards, a watered down version of blackjack that Race had taught all the kids how to play on their days off. How he got stuck babysittin’ he’d never know, but here he was, 17 year old Racetrack, watchin’ a gaggle of little Newsies. The youngest of ‘em wasn’t older than 6.

“Mr. Racer!” the littlest Newsie piped up, his missing front teeth giving his smile a big gap as he grinned, “Do you know ‘bout Spot Conlon?”

Race smirked. “Sure I’s do.”

The little Newsies all gasped, edging closer to where Race sat on the beat up sofa in the common room of the boy’s floor in the lodging house.

“Really?” Another boy asked, “Have ya ever met ‘im?”

Race grinned. “Maybe.”

Gasps.

“An’ ya didn’t get soaked???”

“Nah.” he shrugged. “Me an’ Spot, we’s pals.”

“You’s lyin’,” A rather skeptical eight year old replied simply. “You’s just sayin’.”

Race looked offended. “Lyin’?? Me an’ Spot’s best friends! I sell in Brooklyn twice a week wit’ ‘im.”

Tiny Newsie jaws dropped.

“No way!”

Race took the cigar out of his mouth as he leaned forward and smiled at the boys. “Yes way.”

“You ain’t Brooklyn, though’s! Ya’s from Manhattan. Ain’tcha?”

Race nodded, “Sure am. We’s got a spec’al arrangement, is all.”

“What’s the ‘rangement, Mr. Racer?” the youngest boy asked, eyes wide.

“I ain’t givin’ away all my secrets,” Race smirked, “Just know that as long’s I’m ‘round, you kiddos ain’t gotta be too scared’a ol’ Spot Conlon.”

“You ain’t scared’a ‘im??” another boy asked and Race shook his head.

“Nah.” Race put the cigar back in his mouth.

The little boys minds buzzed with new theories and just a little bit of fear toward Race, who was apparently best pals with the scariest, toughest Newsie in all’a New York.

*

Race tossed a little cloth bag with coins in it at his best friend, silly grin on his face.

“Luck’s changin’, Spotty!” Race said excitedly, “There’s ya cut.”

Spot raised a brow and opened the little bag. “Woah. How many races ya win?”

“FOUR.” Race grinned, “Can ya believe it?? I could feel somethin’ in the air today. Somethin’ lucky.”

Spot snorted, starting up the stairs of the Brooklyn lodging house, Race following. “So how mucha that’s goin’ to settle ya debts from last week, eh?”

“‘Bout half. But that means I’s got plenty for next week’s bettin’!”

“Or ya could, I dunno. Save some? Get a hot meal? Some new clothes ‘o somethin’.” Spot suggested.

Race snorted. “I don’ need that. Just wait Spotty, one’a these days I’ll hit the jackpot an’ you an’ me, we’ll be set for life.”

Spot smirked a little. “You an’ me, eh?”

Race met his eyes. “Yeah.”

Spot nodded proudly. “Yeah.”

Race followed Spot through the familiar Brooklyn lodging house. He nodded in greeting to Hotshot, Bruises and Joey where they sat around a card table, reading headlines and eating something before heading out to sell the evening edition. Race knew the Brooklyn house about as well as he knew Manhattan’s. All the other Newsies knew him by name, he was welcomed in without a second thought, and everyone, everyone, in Brooklyn knew that if you messed with Racetrack Higgins, it meant you were messing directly with Spot Conlon. No one questioned that.

Race patiently waited as Spot checked in on the younger kids in his lodge, making sure they didn’t get into any trouble on the streets today, and as he checked on one of his kids who stayed in from selling due to a head-cold. For all the tall tales of how terrifying Spot Conlon was, Race was one of the few people other than the Brooklyn kids who saw Spot’s softer side. He was a protector, through and through. He’d protect those kids with his life, and Race found it incredibly endearing.

“Poor kiddo,” Spot muttered as he climbed the ladder to his room, a small but cozy attic space that he’d claimed when he took charge of the Brooklyn Newsies. Race followed him.

“Twigs is still sick?” Race asked. Poor kid was already tiny, hence his nickname, no wonder a head-cold put him out of commission for the day.

“Yeah.” Spot frowned. “Might have to dip inta’ them winnin’s an’ get that kid some tonic.”

Race shrugged. “Ain’t gotta slush-fund for that? Them’s your winnin’s.”

Spot glanced at the bag of coins in his hand, tossing it onto his bed. “We do, but I don’ mind helpin’ the lil kid out. He ain’t got no one else. None’a them do.”

Race nodded in understanding. “You’s a nice guy, Spotty.” he said with a smile, “I’ll neva’ understand how kids’ is scared ‘a you.”

Spot puffed his chest. “‘Cuz I’m scary.”

“No you ain’t,” Race said, sliding a hand over Spot’s muscled shoulder and resting his chin on top of Spot’s head. “You’s a sweetheart.”

Spot snorted and pushed Race off him, “Shuddap.”

Race smirked, flopping dramatically onto Spot’s bed, reaching out for Spot to join him.

Spot did, sitting down next to Race, letting him play with his hand.

“You oughta get back to Manhattan ‘fore the sun goes down,” Spot mentioned as the sunset shone through his window and gave the attic an orange tint. “‘s Gettin’ late.”

Race nodded. “I’d rather stay here wit’ you.”

“You an’ I both know you ain’t suppos’d ta.”

Race shrugged, resting his head on Spot’s strong shoulder.

“Yeah well,” he gave him a secret grin. “We both knows we do things we ain’t suppos’d ta.”

Spot laughed lightly. “Yeah.” he glanced around his room, the only place in all of Brooklyn where he was allowed to relax. It was an off limits area. None of the other Newsies were allowed anywhere near his room, let alone inside. There were only a handful of people who’d ever seen Spot’s room, and only one who’d ever been allowed repeat visits. Race knew it was a very high honor.

“Only in ‘ere though.”

Race nodded, almost sadly. Spot had a funny way of making him happy no matter what. He loved annoyin’ him, playin’ pranks, makin’ jokes, sharin’ stories, and sellin’ papes with him. But he loved lots of other things about Spot too. Like that he cared so much about his Newsies. That he took such good care of his friends. Little things too, like that he was allergic to pollen in the springtime. That he loved to read. That he loved animals. That he stood up for the little guy time and time again.

Race was really proud to be Spot’s friend.

And sometimes, when they were alone, more than his friend. Race traced one finger across Spot’s bicep, tracing over the faded scar on his shoulder and connecting the dots of his freckles.

“Yeah,” Race agreed, “Only in ‘ere.” He sighed, still lazily tracing Spot’s freckles. “Why do ya think I don’t wanna leave?”

Spot smirked a little, allowing himself a moment of softness to rest his cheek against Race’s head.

“‘Cuz you’s a sap.” Spot teased. “You oughta go back to Manhattan ‘fore I soak ya.”

Race grinned, his nose crinkling. “Then ya’s gonna miss me.”

Spot grinned back. “Only a lil bit.”

“Til I’m back in Brooklyn ta bug ya on Friday.”

“Too long.” Spot said, sliding his hand into Race’s gently.

“Now who’sa sap?” Race snickered, but laces his fingers through Spot’s, squeezing gently.

Spot squeezed back. “Still you.”

“Nahhh.” Race pecked a very careful kiss to Spot’s temple, just barely brushing his lips against his hairline.

Spot turned to face him, their eyes meeting and fighting unspoken feelings and buried fears. Their faces grew closer, Race’s forehead resting against Spot’s. Race smelled like newsprint and tobacco, two scents that Spot now associated with comfort and safety. He closed his eyes, relaxing, only opening them when Race parted their heads.

“You’s prob’ly right though,” he said softly, “I oughta go back ta Manhattan.”

Spot tried not to look disappointed and nodded. “Yeah.”

Race gave him a smile, squeezing his hand. “See you’s Friday?”

“Friday.” Spot gave Race’s hand one more squeeze before letting him go. Race took the cigar from his shirt’s pocket and stuck it in his mouth, giving Spot a smile before he started down the ladder to take him downstairs.

Spot sighed as the door to his attic closed behind Race and he flopped down against the creaky mattress of his bed. He hated this. He hated the way that Race made him feel, so safe and terrified at the same time. Spot Conlon wasn't really afraid of anyone or anything, but getting hurt by Race, or worse, Race getting hurt by him, was at the top of the list of his fears.

Sneaking around wasn't smart, and both of them knew it. Lying wasn't smart either. Especially when they were lying to each other. All the late nights and drunken kisses in the world wouldn't get either boy to admit they had feelings for one another, at least not out loud. Spot hoped that it was clear how he felt, and that their quiet moments and his careful signs of affection were enough for Race to know how much he meant to him.

They couldn't talk about it, not explicitly. They both knew that they couldn't be together, not truly, not anything more than the friends they already were. And if they talked about it, if Spot ever told Race how he felt; how his heart fluttered every time they touched, how his lips burned for hours after every time they’d kissed, how he'd stay up late thinking about him and them and their lives and their futures, Spot knew he'd be done for. If he talked about it, it'd be real. If they discussed it, they'd both realize they had no future, at least not one together.

Spot was afraid that when they faced their fate head on, the secrets in Spot’s bedroom would go away. And then Race would stop sellin’ in Brooklyn. And soon he'd stop going to Sheepshead. And Spot would be alone.

Spot sat up and looked out the window from the top of the Lodging house just in time to see Race waving his goodbyes to the other Brooklyn newsies as he started his trek back over the bridge. Before he left he looked up to Spot’s bedroom window, waving a little goodbye.

Spot didn't think Race could see it, but he waved back.

Race turned and walked back over the bridge all alone.

Spot sat back down on his bed, all alone.

*

Friday was a rainy day in New York City. It was summer, so the rain was expected, but dreaded. Rainy days were always slow sellin’ days. No one wanted to stop too long to buy papes when it’d just get soaked in a few minutes anyways. Newsies typically hid under awnings or building entrances to sell what they could, but usually gave up and went back home before the weather got too nasty. There’d be a new headline and more papes to sell tomorrow, when the sun was (hopefully) shining.

Friday was Race’s day to sell with Spot in Brooklyn. And even though it was already raining when he’d left that morning, he still made the long trek over the bridge and showed up at Brooklyn’s Newsie hub in time. He and Spot sold the few papes they’d bought, they were veterans at selling in bad weather, and then retired to the Brooklyn Lodging house for the rest of the afternoon. They spent the rest of the day playing cards and checkers and taking turns keeping the peace, as there were too many young newsies hanging around in boredom.

It was getting late and the weather was worsening. Race was deeply involved in a game of blackjack between a handful of the older Brooklyn newsies, determined to win for the third game in a row. Spot had been checking on the kids, making sure no one was doing anything stupid, and that the younger ones had all eaten, before he joined in on the card game.

“Ay,” Hotshot asked, “What time is it? Shouldn’t this crook be headin’ back ta Manhattan?” Hotshot elbowed Race, who snorted.

“You’s just bitter cuz I wiped ya pockets for the third time tonight.” Race teased. He looked to Spot, who glanced up from his cards.

“It is pretty late,” he admitted, “But the weather’s awful. You wanna just stay the night, Racer?”

Race raised a brow. “I really oughta go back, Jack’ll be worried sick.”

“Psshh,” Spot waved a hand. “Kelly’ll be fine a single night without ya. You don’t wanna get pneumonia or nothin’, do ya?”

Race shrugged. “I ain’t gonna get sick,” Race said simply, setting down another card. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“You’s gonna get a different kinda soaked if ya try an’ cross the bridge in this storm.” Spot told him. Thunder crashed outside and Spot was the only one who saw Race flinch at the loud sound. He narrowed his eyes a little bit.

“You’s stayin’.” Spot said firmly, making it clear there was no room for argument.

“You want us ta make room for ‘im?” Hotshot asked, “We can kick ol’ Bruises ta the floor for the night.”

“Hey!” Bruises protested, punching Hotshot in the arm.

“Nah,” Spot brushed them off. He didn’t look up from his cards. “He’ll bunk wit’ me.”

Race felt his chest growing warm with pride.

“Whateva’ you says, boss.” Hotshot said, going back to the game. No one said anything else about it.

After their game, which Race won easily, Spot made his final nightly rounds throughout the busy lodging house. He checked on the younger kids, making sure they were going to sleep and weren’t getting into mischief. He made sure that Twigs, the little newsie who was still fighting off a cold, had enough blankets and had eaten something that evening.

Race followed Spot on his rounds, admiring how gentle but firm Spot was with the younger kids. He seemed way older than his 18 years as he cared for the kids, lifting them into their bunks and gently assuring them that they’d be back to selling papes in the morning. Race tried not to smile as he watched Spot checking Twigs’ temperature with the back of his hand, putting another ratty blanket over the little boy’s shivering form. Race also noticed that Spot had bought tonic for him, and it was sitting next to the cot the little kid was curled up on.

“He’ll be okay,” Spot said as he left the younger kids’ room, “He’s a tough little kid.”

Race had a feeling that Spot was saying it for his own benefit than anyone else’s.

Spot sighed as he closed the door to his room as Race climbed up after him, turning on the small gas-lamp in the corner so they could see.

“He’s gonna be fine, Spotty,” Race tried to encourage, “Don’t worry. You got him some tonic an’ everythin’. I’m sure he’ll beat it.”

“Yeah.” Spot said, taking off his newsie cap and tossing it onto an overturned crate. “Yeah. He’ll be fine.”

Race took his cap off too, tossing it next to Spot’s before he sat down on Spot’s bunk.

“You’s sure ‘bout me stayin’ the night?” Race asked, and Spot nodded.

“Yeah. I’d rather know you’s safe an’ dry, here. ‘Stead’a bein’ wet an’ catchin’ cold in Manhattan.” Spot said simply, sitting down next to Race on the bed. “Got it?”

“Got it.” Race nodded. Lightning crackled across the sky and thunder echoed so loud that it made the attic walls quake a little. Race jumped at the sound, groaning a little in embarrassment. Spot looked him over curiously.

“You okay, Race?”

“Mmhm.” Race avoided Spot’s eyes.

“No you ain’t.” he frowned. “You don’t like the storms?”

“Nah.” Race shrugged. “It’s dumb. Don’ worry ‘bout it.” He tugged off his over shirt and pulled off the suspenders he wore so he was in his pants and undershirt. “Can we go to bed now?”

Spot nodded, taking off his suspenders and shirt as well. He turned off the lamp so the room was lit only by the lightning cracks and faded moonlight through the rolling dark clouds. Spot climbed into the bed, which was probably too small for both of them, but they didn’t care, immediately getting comfortable next to one another. There wasn’t any awkwardness. Both boys were used to sharing their bed, and neither of them could think of anyone they’d rather share with than each other. They each respectfully maintained a small amount of distance between them, but Race’s hand reached carefully for Spot’s as another loud crash of thunder made his skin crawl. Spot gently took his hand.

Race gave him a smile in the dark, but Spot’s eyes had already adjusted so he could see the little grin.

“Tell me a secret,” Race whispered.

Spot smirked. He’d joked once that Race was the only one who knew his secrets, and now Race held that title very proudly, but privately.

“Like what?” Spot asked flatly. He noticed in the back of his head that his hand was still holding Race’s, and Race squeezed tight when another crash of thunder echoed outside.

“Anythin’. Tell me why ya didn’t let me go back to Manhattan tonight.” Race’s voice was tight, and Spot could tell he was trying to distract himself. He opted for honesty to answer Race’s question.

“You’d get sick.”

“You don’ know that. I’s got great health.”

“People what get soakin’ wet an’ don’t own enough clothes ta get dry is only gonna get sick. I...I’s seen it lotsa times.”

“You’s gotten sick from a rainstorm?” Race asked, and Spot shook his head a little.

“Nah.” his voice was quiet. “A kid in the house did, few years back.” Spot hesitated, deciding whether or not he wanted to finish. “He was little, like Twigs is. He got pneumonia real bad, an’ by the time I got ‘im to a nurse, it was too late for ‘im.”

“Oh.” Race said softly, feeling his chest ache with sorrow. “I...I’m sorry, Spotty. I didn’t realize. I wasn’t meanin’ ta joke ‘bout it.”

Spot shook his head. “It’s fine. I just know I ain’t gonna let no more kids get sick if I can help it.” he said simply. “Ain’t worth it.”

“You’s right. It ain’t.”

They were quiet again, another crash of thunder making the walls shake. Race jumped again, letting out a shaky sigh.

“That an’ I’d miss ya.” Spot said lightly, and Race gave him a little smile. He was grateful to Spot for trying to distract him.

“You’d miss me?” Race teased, and Spot snorted.

“‘Course, dumbass.”

“Why’s that?” Race asked, his tone light but intent serious.

“Tuesday’s a long way from now. ‘Sides, we’s pals.”

“Pals.” Race said softly, nodding. He subconsciously let go of Spot’s hand, but Spot grabbed it back.

“Yeah.” he held Race’s hand tight in his.

Spot wanted to elaborate. He really did. But he wasn’t even sure what this was. What they were. They were pape-sellin’-partners, and best friends, but past that? Spot had no idea. He didn’t think boyfriends was the right word for it. He didn’t think there was a right word for it. Especially when nothing about it was right.

“Your turn,” Spot said, changing the subject. “Tell me a secret.”

“I ain’t got any secrets,” Race said lightly.

“Sure ya do.”

“You know pretty much all’a ‘em.” Race admitted. He was a pretty open book when he found people he trusted, and he trusted Spot more than anyone else he’d ever met. He loved times like this, when it was just them, and nothin’ else. He loved learning new things about his best friend. He loved knowing things about him that no one else did.

“So why’s you scared’a thunder?” Spot asked, catching Race a little off guard.

“I don’t like storms.” Race said quickly. He sighed a little. “I hate ‘em,” Race said softly, “They’s so loud. I just wanna sleep but they’s loud, so’s I can’t.”

“Guess they is pretty loud,” Spot admitted. “I didn’t realize it bothered ya.”

Race shrugged a little. “Neva’ liked ‘em.” he admitted. “Bad mem’ries.”

“Yeah?” Spot wanted to know what sort of memories could be attached to rain, but he didn’t want to make Race uncomfortable so he didn’t push it.

“Yeah.”

The room lit up around them with a lightning strike that was too close for Race to be comfortable and when the crack exploded into the loudest thunder crash yet, Race practically lept from the bed. He cursed under his breath, angry at himself for being upset, and even angrier at the memories of lightning, smoke and flames that filled his head and refused to leave. The same memories that woke him up when fire sirens blared all night long in the city. The same memories that plagued him every single thunderstorm filled summer since he was a kid.

“Hey, it’s okay Racer, it’ll pass.” Spot offered, but Race paced back and forth across the room, trying to calm down.

“‘S so dumb.” he muttered under his breath.

Spot stood and took Race by the hands, leading him back to the bed. They sat next to each other, Race’s shaking hands still in Spot’s strong ones.

“Whadda ya do in Manhattan when it’s stormin’?” Spot asked.

“Dunno. Try ta sleep, walk ‘round an’ try not to wake up the boys, hide ‘til it’s done. I can’t smoke inside, so I don’t get ta calm down as much as I wanna.” he frowned, leaning his face into Spot’s shoulder. “‘m sorry. ‘S stupid.”

“No it ain’t.” Spot assured him. He put one hand gently on Race’s back. “Whadda ya want me to do? How can I’s help?”

Race leaned into Spot closer as another flash of lightning lit up the room. Spot’s strong arm held Race tight.

“I’s fine,” Race told him after a moment. “Being with you’s already helpin’.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I know you’s got my back. I’m safe.”

Spot smiled a little, leaning into Race comfortably.

“I don’t think no one feels too safe ‘round me.” Spot admitted quietly. “I’s got a reputat’on, ya know.”

Race smiled, feeling his fears slowly fading the longer Spot held onto him.

“Well, I know I’m safe.” Race told him, “Ain’t a doubt in my mind you’s lookin’ out for me.”

Spot wasn’t thinking as he pressed a very small kiss to Race’s forehead.

“You know I is.”

*

Race left the Brooklyn lodging house early that morning, before the sun was even up. The storm was long gone, only puddles remained as a memory of the pounding rain and cracking lightning from the night before. Race wished his heart didn’t ache every time he made the walk over the bridge to go back into Lower Manhattan. He wished he didn’t feel the way he did. He also didn’t regret it. He held the secrets and reassurances from that night with him, hiding them in his heart for later as he started to walk back.

When Spot woke up just as the sun began to rise, he instantly noticed that Race was gone. For a second he wondered if he’d dreamt the whole thing, but he quickly noticed that where their hats had been sitting last night on the overturned crate next to his bed, a cigar remained instead. Spot picked it up, letting himself smile a little before he pulled on his shirt and suspenders and got ready to start the day.

*

Race reached the Manhattan Lodging house just as the sun was coming up. He opened the door and started up the stairs, searching his pocket for his key when the door opened and Jack Kelly bumped directly into him.

“Racer!” Jack exclaimed, “For the love of Pete, where were ya??” Jack hit Race with his hat, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

“Geez Mom, good mornin’ to ya too.” Race teased. “Stayed the night in Brooklyn ‘cuz ‘a the storm.”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. “You’s okay? Storm was pretty bad.” Other than Spot, Jack was the only person who knew how Race felt during thunderstorms. He’d been worried about him all night as he listened to the thunder rolling and rain pelting the city.

“I’m fine,” Race assured him. “But starvin’. We got any food?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jack pulled Race through the door. “Come on.”

Race was greeted by the other boys the second he walked through the door, immediately peppered with whoops, hollers and questions.

“Where were ya??” Albert asked, “You had Jackie all worried ‘bout ya.”

“Poor Mom didn’t know what to do with ya lost in Brooklyn.” Romeo teased, elbowing Jack, who rolled his eyes.

“We was ready ta send out the search party!” Elmer added.

The littler Newsies chased one another around the small kitchen until Albert shouted for them to scram. A few lingered though, surprised to see Race.

“Where’d ya go Mr. Racer?” one of the younger Newsies asked. Race snorted.

“Got caught in the rain, so I’s stayed in Brooklyn for the night.” He explained simply.

“An’ ya didn’t get soaked by them Brooklyn boys?” A kid asked, and Race laughed.

“‘Course not.”

“Where’d ya stay?” Crutchie asked, handing Race a plate with toast and half an apple on it.

“Thanks,” Race said as he started to eat. “Stayed at the Brooklyn boys’ lodgin’ house. It’s nicer ‘n ours is.” he joked, mouth full.

“You stayed there?” one of the younger kids asked.

“Yep.”

“Spot Conlon let you stay with his boys?” Another little kid asked, wide eyed.

Race flicked a piece of his crust at the kid, hitting him in the forehead. “Yeah, he did. No big thing.”

“Wow.” the kid gaped. “Why didn’t he beat ya up??”  he asked.

“‘Cuz we’s friends.” Race said simply.

The kid turned to his friend next to him. “So why’d you beat me up?” he asked, poking at his own healing black eye.

“Cuz you’s a dummy!!” his friend shouted, and the two lightly brawled until Jack kicked them out of the kitchen.

“Enough, ya knuckleheads.” he shook his head. “Go get yerselves lookin’ presentable or no one’ll wanna buy from ya today.”

The boys obeyed and ran up the stairs, leaving the older boys in the kitchen.

“You really stayed with Spot last night?” Elmer asked, a little surprised.

Race bit into his apple half. “Yeah, what of it?”

“Just curious.” Elmer said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“He ain’t the friendliest kid in the city,” Crutchie said, and Race gave him a grin.

“He’s friendly ta me.”

“You’s lucky.” Albert commented. “He’d prob’ly soak any’a us on sight for invadin’ his territory.”

Race snorted. “Nah, he ain’t so bad.”

“Sure he is.” Elmer said, “You’s heard the stories, ain’t ya?”

“Sure,” Race shrugged, “But that don’t mean they’s true.”

Jack didn’t comment, watching Race carefully. He’d been worried sick about his friend, knowing just how he felt when bad lightning storms hit, and was ready to go out in the middle of the storm to find him until Crutchie stopped him from doin’ anything dumb. He was relieved that Race was okay, and more relieved that he was indoors and not hidin’ out under the bridge or nothin’. But now Jack was curious. Race had been spending more and more time in Brooklyn lately, a lot more than his occasional excursion to the Sheepshead Races he’d take after a particularly good headline dropped and filled his pockets with extra cash. Jack had never commented on it, a little wary of questioning anything Spot Conlon did, even if it included friendship with one of his boys. Jack wouldn’t necessarily consider Spot a friend, more of a reluctant ally. He came through for them during the strike last year, and now he an’ Race were friends, which meant Manhattan an’ Brooklyn stayed allies. But that didn’t mean Jack wasn’t skeptical of Spot and his intentions with his friend.

“Alright ya slackers,” Jack interrupted, brushing Race off his perch on the kitchen counter, “Let’s get to work. Ya can bug Race ‘bout Brooklyn later.”

Race smirked and finished his apple half in one more bite, spitting the seeds onto his plate and putting it in the getting-rather-full sink.

“Let’s hope we’s got a good headline today,” Race commented as he followed Jack from the kitchen to round up the boys and head to Newsies Square. Jack fell back to walk with Race on the way over to the square.

“Ay, you sure you’s aight Racer?” he asked gently and Race gave him a toothy grin through the cigar between his teeth.

“‘Course I am, Jackie. Why?”

Jack gave him a look. They both knew why.

“I mean it,” Race insisted. “I’m a’ight. Spot was real nice to let me stay wit’ ‘im last night. I even was able to sleep.”

“Ya were?” Jack was impressed.

“Yeah.” the corners of Race’s lips were tempted to tug into a smile but he forced his expression to remain neutral. “I was.”

Jack watched him curiously. “Good.” he said, “I’m glad Spot was nice to ‘ya.” he chose his words carefully, observing Race’s reaction.

This time Race couldn’t hide his little smile. Jack tried to place where he’d seen the look in Race’s eyes before and it took him a minute to figure it out. The way Race’s eyes lit up when he talked about Spot Conlon was the exact same way Katherine’s eyes lit up when he brought her flowers at work last week. It was the same look she gave him when he made her dinner at her apartment, and the same look he was sure he gave her when she’d show him her articles to read before anyone else did, or got excited about his latest drawings.

Love.

Racetrack nodded. “Yeah, me too. He’s a good pal.” he fought the little smile away.

Jack wasn’t sure how anyone could feel anything other than respect and healthy fear for Spot Conlon, but he was pretty sure that whatever Race was feeling, it was more than that. Jack took a second to process that, wondering if he was jumping to conclusions or if he was right. He knew Race pretty well, and he could tell how much happier he was after spending the day in Brooklyn. Jack’s stomach hurt with a pang of sadness, knowing that as happy as Spot seemed to make him, he and Race could never really do anything about it. Race’s life was hard enough as it was, this would only make it harder. Spot Conlon was a dangerous kid, but being in love with him was far more dangerous. Especially Race being in love with him. Jack tried to push the thoughts away. He couldn’t protect Race from this, but he’d be there for him if he got hurt.

“I’m glad he’s your pal,” Jack settled on saying, and Race nodded.

“Yeah.” he looked down at his boots as they walked.

That’s all he’ll ever be.

*

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12941445  ao3 link :)

#IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #jk not sorry its my favorite thing ive written lol #i love these losers so much it's not even funny #please please please someone yell at me about it #i love them #tw: anxiety #tw: angst #tw: storms #period typical homophobia #no slurs or negative language #just angst #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #sprace #newsies #newsies live #newsies movie #jack kelly #newsies fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #newsies fic #sprace fic #sprace fanfiction #spot/race #spot conlon is an angel #racetrack higgins is my son #i don't know what else to tag this #please talk to me #i always need more newsies friends