#This was made for torturing me personally

[burningembers91]

Rare - The Salesman x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Freak of Nature

On Display

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Crime of Passion

Synopsis: The Salesman wants to play a game with you. But when he changes the rules, so do you

A/N: I am immensely proud of this series. It’s unlike anything I’ve written before and I love exploring the darker sides of characters. This particular fic is probably my favourite so far. I wanted to thank everyone for the frankly mind boggling love I have received on all my fics so far. Thank you ❤️

It had been two weeks since your mysterious man in the grey suit had saved you. Two weeks since you’d given in to your desires. The day after he fucked you so hard that your bed slats broke, an entirely new bed arrived. One with a plush, cream, fabric headboard and a mattress that felt like you were sleeping on a cloud sent straight from heaven.

His heroics in the alleyway, the transition from something psychological to physical had changed the dynamics of your relationship. He didn’t want to admit it, but he could feel himself falling under your spell. It was a constant struggle to maintain the upper hand, to continue the illusion that you were entirely at his mercy. But you both knew it was a mutual torture, that each of you had the other twisted so deliciously around your respective fingers. The other night he had come so close to telling you his name. It had been so long since he’d spoken it, he wasn’t entirely sure he knew what is was anymore. But there was something about you, something deliciously dark bubbling after your soft, shea scented skin. You could be the death of him, this beautiful femme fatale. He wasn’t quite ready to relinquish control to you though; he still wanted to try and break you.

You received a phone call one day, requesting your attendance at an incredibly high end dress store in Myeong-Dong. As you made your way through the doors, the eye watering price tags made your jaw drop. You could never in a thousand lifetimes afford a dress like this; but you knew someone who could.

You were whisked into a private area, where several women with tape measures took measurements of your body. They didn’t speak to you, didn’t answer any of your questions. You were there less than five minutes, after being instructed to return to the store the next day to pick up your purchase.

“But I didn’t order anything,” you exclaimed, “can you just tell me what’s going on.”

“Our client is very discreet,” the store manager responded. “Please arrive promptly tomorrow to collect your purchase.”

You couldn’t text Mr Grey Suit to ask him what he was up to. You still weren’t privy to any personal information about him, including his phone number. He didn’t come to see you that night, leaving you to stew in your own thoughts about what he could have possibly ordered you.

The next day, you arrived at the time requested, and were once again greeted by the store manager who handed you a dress bag, with a note attached. I will see you tonight, 7pm. DO NOT LOOK IN THIS BAG UNTIL THEN. I will know if you do. You headed home, desperate to look inside the bag. You didn’t dare though, you had absolutely no doubt he would know if you took a peek.

Your grey suited man arrived at your apartment at 7pm sharp. He nodded appreciatively at your immaculate hair and makeup, cupping your chin in his hand as his eyes explored yours.

“Tonight,” he explained, “you will do exactly what I say, when I say it. If you disobey me, you will be punished. If you perform satisfactorily, you will be rewarded.”

“If I perform satisfactorily?” You scoffed. “I didn’t realise I was a circus monkey.”

He wiped his thumb along your lower lip, smearing the lipstick you’d applied not 10 minutes ago.

“You will do exactly what I say,” he growled. “Now, get dressed into the gift I gave you. And clean your face up. You have 5 minutes. Do not keep me waiting.”

You did as you were asked, presenting yourself like a piece of meat on a platter for him. He nodded approvingly, his hand trailing down the burgundy silk of the evening dress that fit you like a glove, the one he’d had made especially for you. You were a vision, an angel sent straight from heaven. He wasn’t going to tell you that though; he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.

He took you to the most expensive restaurant in Seoul, where a private room had been set up especially. The staff were very discreet, and he’d need exactly that for what he hand in store for you tonight. You sat down opposite him at the small table, classical music quietly playing through the speakers. The room had no windows, lit only by the dimness of the candles dotted around the room.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” Mr Grey Suit said. “I’d expect you to eat every single bite.”

Champagne arrived, followed by oysters. You hated oysters with a fiery passion, but you forced yourself to finish every single one. You refused to show your distaste for them, refused to grimace as the slimy substance slid down your throat. Next up was steak, rare, the meat still oozing blood into to your plate, seeping into the accompanying potatoes. Your stomach turned; you hated red meat. You hadn’t eaten it since you were 10, the smell of it sending your stomach churning.

“I can’t,” you whispered, the metallic smell of the dead animals blood seeping into your nose.

“Are you disobeying me?” He asked, tutting as he tucked a linen napkin into his shirt. “I’m supposing you want to be punished then?”

“Please,” you choked, “anything but steak. I can’t, it’s the smell.”

“Stand up.” He told you. You stood to attention, ignoring the rising bile in your throat. “Come here.”

You did as you were told, your breath hitching as he pulled up your dress to your waist.

“Bend over,” he instructed. You obeyed, hearing the sound of his steak knife slide through the fabric of your lace underwear. You cried out as a sharp, swift slap was delivered to your right cheek, quickly followed by another, and then another. Each hit was harder than the last, tears streaking your face. The mixture of pleasure and pain was exquisite and yet so unbearable.

“Will you do as you’re told now?” He asked, his breath slightly ragged. You were soaking wet as you nodded, and he to resist sliding his fingers inside you. He was supposed to be punishing you after all, not giving you what you wanted.

You sat back down, the skin of your ass stinging as it made contact with the leather chair. Mascara smudged your cheeks, your face flushed. You looked down at the rare steak, then back up your mystery man. He was smiling so smugly at you; he clearly thought he’d won this little game. You smiled sweetly back, picked up your knife and fork, and sliced into the meat. You did your best to ignore the blood that seeped from it. You hardly breathed as you ate, swallowing the bile that continued to rise. A flash of anger contorted his usually handsome features; you were besting him yet again.

You proudly showed off your empty plate, sweat peppering your forehead from the immense effort. You refused to show you him how unwell you felt, choosing to down your glass of champagne to remove the metallic taste from your tongue. He begrudgingly poured you more, both of you smiling as you tried to figure out the others next move.

“What do I get then?” You finally asked, when the silence became too much.

“I’m sorry?” He said, dabbing the corner of his napkin as he surveyed you.

“You said if I did everything you asked, you’d reward me,” you reminded him.

“Ah,” he chuckled, “but you didn’t do everything I asked.”

“Yes, I did,” you snapped back. “I wore the dress, I ate the oysters and the fucking steak!” Eating that piece of meat had almost made you sick, but you’d done it. And he was reneging on his end of the bargain.

“But I had to punish you before you would eat he,” he smiled.

“And I did,” you hissed back at him, fists clenched under the table. “You can’t do this.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he whispered.

You looked him up again, his smug face looking entirely slappable in that moment.

“And so can I,” you decided. “Goodnight.” Throwing your napkin down on the table, you headed for the door.

“Wait!” His voice was desperate, panicked. He didn’t want you to leave. You stopped in your tracks, turning slowly to face him. He looked uneasy, wondering why his game wasn’t going the way he wanted.

“Fine, you sighed, “I’ll stay, but you’re going to play one of my games now.”

You fucked him on the floor of that private dining room, straddling him as you pressed the steak knife to his throat, the one he’d used to slice off your underwear. He quivered underneath you, entirely at your mercy as your slick, tight walls swallowed him again and again. He came with a strangled cry, thrusting his hips up into you as you drained every last drop of his seed.

Leaning down, you planted a single tender kiss on his lips.

“Goodnight, Mr Grey Suit,” you whispered. Standing up, you left him lying there on the cold marble floor, his cock still hard and his breathing ragged.

He had seriously underestimated you. What had started as a game of control, was now something entirely new to him. For the first time in his life, he was entirely at someone else’s mercy.

[stump-not-found]

Sorry if this has already been answered, but does Ford celebrate his birthday? I know its pretty hard to keep track of time when its ... nonlinear in the multiverse but I feel like Bill would know. And to ford every once and a while Bill demands his attention and he comes back to the pyramid to the wildest (worst) surprise party. The cake is human skin, candles are those really long wisdom teeth. Ford hates it.

i'll call out that a main plot point of chapter 4 is the fact bill gets ford presents on his b-day so yah its a regular thing, but they celebrate the day after his b-day

first birthday together bill probably does the skin cake thing but ford just rolls his eyes and sighs . bill almost fucking shoots himself after that response

[whumpbby]

Some people seem to believe in the "true nature" the same way others swear up and down that horoscopes are true, that personality types are true, that blood-type can decide one's personality...

It's the same unacknowledged yet desperate need for finding a "key" to human condition that will lead us true. That will justify our snap judgements.

It's the "before you date someone get them drunk, then you'll see who they really are!" advice that won't tell you anything worthwhile except on how someone acts when micro-dosed with a poisonous substance - may as well drug them or give them some arsenic, or punch them out of nowhere, see how they deal with that.

You are absolutely right, a person is not a singular core sorrounded by fake faces forced on us by the society.

The issue I have people that believe in these "true self" ideas - and something that really concerns me when it comes to them - is that the base "true self" depends solely on the level of charity the person in question is afforded.

Because it's easy to say JC's Moment of Truth is the strangling scene if you already don't like him.

But, actually, what says this Moment can't be JC instinctively turning his back in WLJ when his mother is in danger? Why can't it be him sacrificing himself for WWX? Why can't it be the moment he jumps between Wangxian and a blade in Guanyin temple? All of these are a speck-of-a-moment decisions made without conscious thought -why not choose these?

Cause if I follow that tune, - why can't Wei Wuxian's Moment of Truth be the one where he viciously tortures Wen Chao and horrifically murders his girlfriend? When all chips are down, no consequences await, he is drunk on his own power and there's no one to stop him, no Madame Yu to slap his hands - isn't this who Wei Wuxian really is? Nothing more than a hateful monster that will attack a man in front of his dead family, for the sole sin of being rude to a guy he likes?

Why Wangji's defining moment isn't the one where he casts a silencing spell on a kid he has no authority over? Or the one where he attacks and wounds 30 members of his own family that raised and loved, and enabled him his whole life, for a guy he wanted to fuck? Or the one where he turns away from a brother that raised, loved and enabled him his whole life, when said brother needs him most? With no one to judge him, and no one to slap his hands, LWJ is a real POS.

I mean, we're leaving the grace and context out of this, so why not?

there is no such thing as a singular "true nature"

recently saw a (or rather, yet another) post dunking on jiang cheng for blaming wei wuxian and trying to strangle him after the fall of lotus pier. which is fair, because that honestly was rather terrible of him.

however, one specific aside in that post stood out to me:

as i saw in the post i'm now being a hater about, antis have the tendency of boiling down an entire character to just their worst moments. but the section i highlighted above interests me precisely because i think it sheds light on what logical fallacy causes the anti tendency towards this boiling-down.

one common thread i've seen across antis of all sorts of characters - whether the characters they're bashing be jiang cheng, jin guangyao, su minshan, or wei wuxian himself - is this idea of a singular "true nature." the idea is that people have a "true nature," which is typically hidden by polite manners and civilized society, but may then be exposed during moments of stress in which those manners are stripped away.

the implied corollary to this idea of a singular "true nature" that is only revealed on occasion, then, is the existence of "false natures": if the self that is exposed during moments of high duress is one's "true nature," then the self that is seen during moments of normalcy is not one's "true nature." one's "true nature" is determined from solely these moments of high duress; the "nature" implied by one's actions during all other times does not count. if we follow this framework, then the you who goes apeshit after a bad day is closer to your "true nature" than the you who has a normal day of fun with your friends; the you who goes apeshit after a bad day is more real than the you who has a normal day with friends; the you who goes apeshit after a bad day matters more in the cumulative assessment of your existence than the you on every other day of your life.

as you might expect, i don't agree with this worldview. i don't condone boiling an entire person down to their single most extreme moments, not only because it is uncharitable, but also because i don't accept this idea of a "true nature" to begin with. to make such sweeping statements about an individual's "true nature" is overly simplistic and reductive of the full complexity of humanity. furthermore, in order for the idea of [a true nature that is only revealed in moments of duress] to work, one must rank all of the actions and behaviors of an individual from least to most "true," as described above - but, in fact, everything an individual does makes up who they are.

there is no such thing as a singular "true nature." you are not some fundamental "true nature" hidden away under layers and layers of pretense. everything you do - not just the things you do in moments of duress - makes up your character. you are the sum of all of your actions, both mundane and extreme: the you who has a normal day with friends is very bit as true, as real, as the you who reacts in extreme ways in extreme circumstances.

jiang cheng is the person who blamed wei wuxian for the fall of lotus pier and tried to strangle him for it. jiang cheng is also the person who spent his childhood shielding wei wuxian from dogs. jiang cheng is also the person who loves jiang yanli and sincerely wishes for her happiness. jiang cheng is the person who repeatedly tried to warn wei wuxian from messing with lan wangji and who carried wei wuxian after he got beaten by the lan. jiang cheng is the person who feels his father loves wei wuxian more than him. jiang cheng is the person who failed to stand up for mianmian out of concern for his own sect. jiang cheng is the person who ran restlessly for seven days to rescue wei wuxian (and lan wangji) from the xuanwu's cave; jiang cheng is also the person who resented not being thanked for his hard work. jiang cheng is the person who spent 3 months tirelessly looking for wei wuxian. jiang cheng is the person who allowed wei wuxian to secede from yunmeng jiang without any support in order to keep yunmeng jiang safe. jiang cheng is the person who helped jiang yanli sneak into the burial mounds so that wei wuxian could see her wedding clothes. jiang cheng is the person who blamed wei wuxian for jiang yanli's death. jiang cheng is the person who led the first siege of the burial mounds. jiang cheng is not the person who killed wei wuxian.

jiang cheng is the person who blamed wei wuxian for the downfall of lotus pier and then tried to strangle wei wuxian for it. jiang cheng is also the person who, barely a few hours later, sacrificed his everything in order to save wei wuxian from the wens.

both of these statements are true. all of these statements are true. the fact that one of these statements is true does not stop any of the others from being equally true. the reason why i dislike this "true nature" framework so much is that it cherrypicks certain moments as unique truths at the cost of all others - it centers one specific moment as indicative of an individual's entire nature, and in doing so discards all other moments as mattering less. in favor of a singular, easily digestible statement (eg. "jiang cheng's true nature is one of selfishness"), it erases the full complexities and contradictions true to humanity.

it is erroneous to say that "jiang cheng trying to strangle wei wuxian indicates his true nature," because of all the other shit that jiang cheng did. but it is ALSO erroneous to say that "jiang cheng sacrificing himself to save wei wuxian indicates his true nature," because of all the other fucking shit that jiang cheng did. the fact is that jiang cheng did both of those things and also a whole bunch of other shit, and we all just have to accept it.

what's funny here is that this same "true nature" thinking also gets applied to wei wuxian himself in-universe. to the general public in MDZS, wei wuxian is the guy who invented demonic cultivation, who created the weapon of mass destruction that was the yin tiger tally, who killed jin zixuan, who got jiang yanli killed, and who in a moment of extreme emotional distress killed over a thousand people at the nightless city pledge conference. in their discussions of wei wuxian, the public centers these specific acts as indicating wei wuxian's singular "true nature." everything else wei wuxian was - his inventiveness, his kindness, his selflessness, his playfulness, his genius - gets dismissed as "false natures" in comparison to the one "true nature."

but this isn't an accurate description of wei wuxian, because to take just wei wuxian's very worst moments and then make those moments his entire being is not fair. wei wuxian tortured countless wen cultivators during the sunshot campaign, wei wuxian killed jin zixuan and heavily injured jiang yanli before her death, wei wuxian killed over a thousand people at the nightless city pledge conference. wei wuxian also sacrificed his everything for jiang cheng, abandoned the easy way out in favor of protecting innocent people from suffering, and has repeatedly chosen to help others when he could have easily not done so. all of these statements are true. the fact that one of them is true does not prevent any of the others from being equally true. the wei wuxian who chose to help the wen remnants is every bit as real as the wei wuxian who killed over a thousand people at nightless city, and to take either of these moments and assert that it alone reveals a "true nature" while ignoring the other is to commit a logical fallacy.

tl;dr - people contain multitudes.

regarding what the op of the screenshot actually said: they are correct in that jiang cheng does display a repeated pattern of behavior in which he blames wei wuxian for his family's misfortunes and thus lashes out at wei wuxian. but the degree to which wei wuxian is actually blameless for this misfortune, i think, is much greyer than the op said.

[velvet-n-lace]

NSFW Alphabet (Lucifer Edition)

Series: Obey Me!

Genre: Smut/Headcanon

Word Count: 1.7k words

Pairing(s): Lucifer x Female MC

A/N: This has probably been done before, but I wanted to throw in my two cents. I made some for the other brothers too ;)

Original Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Lucifer is both sweet and caring. He would leave you a bit sore, but he knows how to soothe the pain and patch up some wounds. He would clean you up and then hold you in his arms so that the pleasure lingers. He is gentle and possessive when he traces your skin and leaves goosebumps behind.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

For Lucifer, it’s his arms and hands. Without them, he wouldn’t cuddle with you or perform some sadistic desires on your body. His favorite part of your body is your pretty face, specifically your lips and blushing cheeks. He loves tracing them with his thumb and kissing your lips passionately.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Lucifer cums huge loads, and he cums multiple times in every position. He especially loves watching you swallow it or when it leaks down your mouth like frosting. Sometimes, it’s a bit much and spills over your face, or it’s leaking out your quivering pussy. His cum is bittersweet; its saltiness reflects his personality~

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Y’know how Lucifer ties up his brothers to the ceiling as a punishment? He does that out of love, if you could believe it. As for you, though, it’s simply for his pleasure; sometimes, he punishes you for the littlest things just to see you bounded with rope, all helpless and vulnerable. He admires his work well with a wicked grin the more he sees you struggling to break free. The tighter the ropes are, the more you will be writhing in frustration; Lucifer lives for that.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Lucifer is very experienced, as expected, but he won’t tell you how he got these experiences. Obviously, he punishes his brothers and ties them to the ceiling; that explains his sadism, but the sex is a mystery. It’s off the charts, so maybe deep down inside, he’s just a built-in sex god.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Any position where he looks down at you with fear and pleasure in your eyes. Kneeling, giving him a blowjob, fucking you from behind, fucking you against the wall, or getting fucked beneath him give him his power. He also loves the positions where he restrains your limbs besides bouncing on his dick. Riding him could be its own form of pussy torture, but that’s only if you're getting punished.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, of course he is, but he can be very teasing. If he’s in the mood to fuck the brattiness out of you, he will push your buttons and then punish you for it. He knows the game, and you almost hate him for it.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s very well-groomed. You can tell he keeps himself clean for any occasion, even when he doesn't need to be. The carpet matches the drapes perfectly, and he keeps it well-shaven and trimmed.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Lucifer is so sweet; the affection he gives you practically seeps through your skin, and he knows that the more love he gives you, the more pleasure you will be drowning in. His touch is firm but laced with pride and passion, especially in the aftercare.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

When Luci started falling in love with you, there were times when he had to relieve himself in unexpected ways. Of course, he locks the door to his room and jacks himself off, but there have been days when jacking off in his office was more exciting, especially when you walked in and did something unintentionally sexy in front of him. Getting a boner in the middle of the day is always so bothersome for him since it’s so obvious. He would just imagine your mouth on his cock as he pumps himself hard. Having you so close yet unaware of his desires was once thrilling until he finally got to feel your body against his.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Bondage and S&M are his prominent kinks. If it wasn’t clear already, having power over you is what he lives for. If you are comfortable being his slave, you will be collared and bound in rope or leather. He won't be able to control himself when you tap into his praise kink, especially when you call him “Master” or “Daddy.”

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

His room and your room, but also maybe his office. Fucking you into his bedsheets is fun, and having you fucked over his desk is risky; but damn, he always fantasized about doing it to you. If there is an empty classroom, he might try that, but that’s even more risky.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Anything you do can give him some type of desire, especially if it’s unintentional, like bending over to pick up something or reaching for something across a desk. Acting like a brat would definitely have you over his knee for a spanking; the sharp sting on your ass is a constant reminder of your place.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Seeing you making pacts and flirting with his brothers made him slightly jealous. It wasn’t phasing him at first, but the more he wanted you, the more possessive he became. Sharing you is a massive no-no unless maybe Lord Diavolo was invited to your little twosome. Anything that causes him to lose any sense of power or control over you is not nearly as bad as sharing you, but he prefers being the one on top.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers receiving it from you. It’s probably one of the only times you could take charge as you worship his cock and have him writhing in pleasure before he shoots his load down your throat. His skills with giving are god-like. He would eat you out and finger your pussy, only to stop and leave you begging for him to go harder and faster.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s slow and sensual if you prefer vanilla sex; he doesn't mind if that is what you like; his cock would reach your cervix anyway. When you’ve gotten used to his length, it’ll feel like the first time with more flare. When he goes rough and fast, you will be climaxing with a scream.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t prefer them, but there are days when he wants you on his cock in the middle of class. When he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into an empty classroom, that means he’s desperate and knows he can get away with it. He’ll be fine; he knows what he wants and will leave you wanting more throughout the day.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

If you like it a little bit rough, Lucifer can bring in more challenging positions or some more intense BDSM. Fucking in the office or an empty classroom is a risk too, especially if you are loud.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Lucifer can go for a long time if there is enough preparation. Usually, he stops if you’ve had enough of it for one night; he wouldn’t want to destroy you completely. Sometimes, he’s a bit exhausted from the student council work and dealing with his brothers, so there are days when you have to be the one taking charge.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Lucifer owns a whip, for some reason~ He’s got some rope to tie you up with, and at times, he can just use anything around him to spank you with, like a leather binder or a ruler. If he owns anything else, it’s probably something he bought to use on you~

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He would tease you if you were being extra bratty. He’s a serious demon, so he would always maintain a professional demeanor if you two were in public. The teasing is subtle, like when he gives your thighs a light caress or when he sneaks his fingers under your skirt to rub your clit through your panties.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He knows how to set his volume low; his grunts and moans are like a whisper on your skin, making you shiver. His breathing is also soft and deep; it always puts you in a trance. Some of his moans can be guttural if you tighten around him or deepthroat him. You can always just make him loud ;)

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

He can let you take charge at times; he loves you so damn much that he can let you be the one ordering him around or pleasuring you~ It was a bit humiliating at first, but it didn't matter anymore; if anyone had to order him around, it either has to be Lord Diavolo or you. You are his Master, after all~

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Lucifer’s cock is huge. It’s veiny and long with a crimson tip. He can grip his shaft in his hands, and its veins add to its girth. It’s almost overwhelming to look at, and you can't help but wonder if Lucifer is proud to have such a massive tool. He is very much proud~

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is mildly high, but he knows how to control it as if it’s not there. He can never show it around anyone; otherwise, he reveals his weakness to you. If his brothers ever found out, he would be livid.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

When the aftercare is over, he will make sure you are comfortable in bed with him. He will fall asleep shortly after you fall asleep.

[city-tickles]

Giving and Receiving some End Of The Year Tickles!

Hi!

It was the end of the year and I had a rough month, so I wanted to close out my December with some tickling fun at one of the parties in NYC. Here's what happened.

First, I got a pedicure because that was long overdue. It normally isn’t that ticklish, but I definitely let out a grunt or two during the scrubbing lol

(What a great pic this is lol)

I got to the party early, which is good because even though they were still setting up, people were already getting their girls. The girls I wanted from last time were already busy; unfortunately, that’s how it stayed the entire night. Luckily, I ran into this girl named Kat, a beautiful l, slender Black and Hispanic woman. I recognized her from last time because I remember her loud laugh from when she was getting tickled.

I approached her and we started talking. She asked me what I was into and told her tickling. Her eyes darted back as she was not in a tickling mood. She let me know she hadn’t done a tickling session in a long time. Then she recognized me as the person who brought stocks to these parties. I let her know that if it helped, I also enjoyed being a lee. Her eyes lit up as a mischievous grin came upon her face. She was intrigued because she didn’t usually get to tickle someone at these parties. 

At these parties, there isn’t a lot of space, because other sessions are going on next to you so at first there wasn’t a room. Thankfully, we found a spot to play and she assigned roles. I put on a blindfold and since we were trapped under a protective sheet, She was the “spider” and I was the “caterpillar” in her web. Before we started, she had me take a deep breath in and out a few times. Then the last time. she started tickling when I started taking them, which made me laugh while inhaling and exhaling. She started going through all my spots, taunting me the entire way, commenting on how ticklish I was and how sensitive the spots were as I laughed my head off. 

Then, she had me raise my arm up one by one, and spider tickled from my hands down to to my armpit and attacked there. I wish I could tell you everything she was saying because she was a 100% a trash talking ler. Teasing every reaction and asking if I was ticklish there in certain spots and pretending to be shocked. 

She also tried some of my tools on me which included @ticklingduck’s little device and his big scalp device on my feet, legs and knees. After that, she went full on scribble attack on my sides and ribs and underarms where I’m laughing so hard. We found out we were laughing too hard because the manager told us to take it to the back of the room because we were drawing too much attention lol

After she finds a spot for us, I pack up my tools (which were a lot), grab my coat and walk to the back where we can play some more. To save time, I had to put my shoes on with no socks. It was very brief but also a tiny fantasy of mine to be vulnerable to be tickled that way

We get to the back and she puts me in the stocks. This time we don't use a blindfold because she wants me to see what she is going to do me. This was a bigger test for me because I think I react better when I don't see what's going on. She had me do the breathing technique again while scribbling all over my feet, which caused me to laugh and made her only tease me on. "C'mon! It's just breathing." After that she really worked on my feet with a variety of tools, the TicklingDuck scalp massager and other device, the vibrating feather, flossing ostrich feathers between my toes, her OWN HEELS and of course scribbling with her fingers and spelling out her name on my soles.

One of the things she did before we moved places was ask me questions that I would've had no idea what the answer was because never discussed it! First she asked me what her favorite color was, which I knew the answer, then she asked me what her other favorite color was, which I didn't know and she tortured my upperbody some more. She continued this, asking what her favorite animal was, and tickling more when I tried to figure out the answer. 

All while she continued to tease me as the caterpillar caught in her web. 

She then gave me a break and told me to check out how much I was sweating, which us both laugh, before going back to it. She used the vibrating feather device on my knees and a little on my upperbody before focusing more on my upperbody with her fingers. She attacked my sides, tummy and underarms vigoruosly all while teasing how ticklish I was and saying "Tickle tickle tickle" along with otther silly but cute noises and phrases, loving every mninute of it. 

After that, she gave me even more suprises when she began to spider tickle my palms and was surprised they were ticklish. She didn't stay there long, but she continue to spider tickle down my arm trying to get to my armpits, but kept stopping along the way because she found some ticklish parts I didn't even know about. She got to my biceps and OMG were they sensitive! I am not a super fit person so I don't really think about my biceps but they quickly moved up to a top ticklish spot because it was almost unbearable to have her nails dance along that area while she giggled and told me she loved finding new spots that people didn't know.

Then she began gently tickling my neck and chest (another spot that I didn't know was THAT ticklish) before digging into my underarms further driving me crazy. After givin my upperbody and feet a few more attacks, she asked me all the questions again, which I got the answers right, except for another one that wasn't in our conversation, which made her torture me some more before she let me out the stocks and have a break.

As I caught my breath, we got to know each other more and talk tickles. We had some time left, so she told me she would let me tickle her feet, but fingers only. The reason she was reluctant before was she had some lers that went too far and did not participate in any aftercare or concern for her, so it turned her off leeing for a bit. I was very grateful and appreciative she would give me the chance, so I made sure not to take advantage.

I took her heels off and put her cute, tiny feet in my lap. I complimented her dark blue pedicure, which she appreciated because others thought it was a different color. Then I began to gently scribble on her soles, which already had her jumping, screaming and snorting. Rather than ask her questions, I would talk with her and use that as part of a reason to tickle her. For example, she went on vacation recently, so I would ask her about the trip, and say things like, "It's good to relax. Put your feet on the grass. I bet it felt something like this" and then would gently tickle to simulate feet on grass.

I continued to do this with every answer she gave me. One part, where we sped things up was I found out she was into metal music, so I would scribble up and down her soles and under her toes pretending to do fast songs or spell out an artists name. Each time she would laugh loudly, swearing, snorting and making cute noises.

At one point, I found out her right foot as more ticklish than her left one, so I gave her a choice which one for me to tickle, she said the left one and expected the right immediately, but I went for the left. She told me, "I thought you were gonna go for the right!" And I replied, "I'm a man of my word, but if you want me to! I will!" Then started to attack her right foot, as she tried to get away, but I had her in a gentle ankle lock, so she wasn't able to move!

I did this sporadically for 20 minutes since she needed breaks every few minutes. During those breaks, I'd gently caress her feet and legs and make sure she was feeling okay, and reassuring that she's doing an awesome job. Eventually, our time was up and we talked about how much fun we had, and how we would definitely do it again in the future.

She is in NYC and does sessions and doesn't mind getting a shoutout, so if that is something you are interested in, especially if you are lee leaning, let me know and I will tell you who she is. If you are a ler, she might not be as eager yet.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story!

[martiae]

from me to you | pepe martí

“all of the girls you’ve loved before, made you the one i’ve fallen for” ♡ (inspired by to all the boys i’ve loved before!)

synopsis: you’ve been in love with your childhood best friend since you were 6. when you were 13, you decided to start writing love letters to him. you never planned on sending them but they somehow made their way to his house?

pairing: pepe marti x reader (y/n) adler | genre: highschool au, smau, fluff, slight angst | warnings: some cursing, suggestive jokes from christian (haha), gianna/gigi is an oc, y/n is kind of irritating because she assumes a lot !!

chapter 1 : ignorance is bliss

now playing : i think he knows — taylor swift

you waited at the bus stop a few blocks from your house, your mind totally occupied by the mortifying events that happened yesterday.

while you didn’t want to think about it at all, it was hard not to. your mind was constantly playing the moment back.

you wondered how much he read, how he felt when he read it, what his face looked like, his thoughts, etc.

but, a part of you also really did not want know. your heart was sadly fragile, super sensitive to anything relating to pepe.

you knew it was stupid; but, you really thought that you could just peacefully like him. you were waiting for your feelings to just go away, a confession seeming out of reach.

you had to get a grip, you needed to figure out how to go about this whole situation since you knew that he would most likely not drop it.

the bus began to approach the stop, a part of you feeling happy that you had some more time to put together a plan for today.

you sat down at the window seat, the seat feeling very comfortable, yet, undeniably cold.

it was nice though. you finally had some peace and quiet, and could focus on what was important.

that focus broke quickly when a familiar figure sat next to you, their head instantly looking at you.

“hi there”

you wanted to scream. no, you actually wanted to get off the bus and run back home. your plans of peace, tranquility, and happiness was totally interrupted by the guy.

your eyes widened, your mouth parting in a surprised expression. your guys eye contact and silence existing for a long time.

“you’re still not talking to me?” pepe asked, his eyebrow quirking up.

you stayed silent, trying to disassociate from the fact that the boy you’ve been in love with for 11 years is trying to talk to you after finding out you like him.

pepe smiled to himself as he looked down, a small chuckle coming from his mouth. your heart skipped a beat, his stupidly cute smile has always had some kind of effect on you. and you know very well that you probably wrote some very cringey (but true) things about it in your letters.

oh god, just thinking about him reading your bare emotions and feelings about him has you feeling like laying out on the road. this was torture!

pepe looked back at you, his smile not leaving his face yet. you returned back to looking in front of you, the bus coming to a sudden halt.

the force made you lean forward; but, pepe quickly put his palm in front of you and his other hand holding onto your shoulder.

you leaned back, looking at him in surprise.

he chuckled, “didn’t want you hitting your head on the chair..”

your face became slightly flushed, a very soft expression on your face, “thank you”

pepe smiled again, his hand letting go of you and returning to his lap.

“are you going to explain the letters now?”

you tried to not show your shock; but, it appeared on your face before you could control it.

you were praying for the bus to drive faster, you just wanted to go to school and avoid him at every opportunity. its hard to ignore him over text. but, it’s even harder to ignore him in person.

“one more stop” you chanted in your head.

pepe sighed with frustration, “come on..anything? as i said im not mad at all! i just really want an explanation or something! please give me something to grasp!”

you saw the bus begin to pull towards your school, your face relaxing.

“please? something?..” he explained.

the bus stopped, the door’s opening quickly. you looked at him before murmuring a small “bye” and speed walking towards the exit.

you could hear pepe calling your name from behind but decided to sprint to the campus, your adrenaline running.

that was the worst 7 minutes and 34 seconds of your life. (yes you were counting.)

pepe was a guy who was sweet, calm but also expressive, and passionate. he was strong willed and smart and honestly, perfect. he was the guy who every girl has had a crush on before, the guy who would be the best boyfriend and would never fail to impress your family, and just be the guy you’d plan on marrying.

he was all of those things. scratch that, he is all of those things. but because he’s all of those things, you know that it couldn’t work out.

“oh my god, i tried catching up to you but you were running for your life!” gianna said out of breath.

you were panting, still recovering from your very quick run to your class.

“he….was…at….the…bus…stop.” you let out with many breaths.

gianna’s face lit up in shock and excitement, her hands covering her mouth.

“no way! spill now!”

you went the whole school day on guard, observing carefully to not run into pepe. it was kind of pathetic, even you could admit it. you were practically on edge and running away from him because you knew that it was getting harder and harder to face him. you did not want to confess, hell, you didn’t want to do anything. you wished you could reverse time and stop your 13 year old self from beginning the disturbing trend of writing sappy love letters addressed to him.

gosh, this whole situation really made you feel insane! it was hard to just let it pass without feeling the pain of embarrassment.

“(name)!” gianna called.

“oh hey gigi!” you smiled.

“hey! any updates?”

you sighed before looking her in the eye, “i’ve been avoiding him all day.”

gianna groaned, “oh come on! you can’t ignore him forever!”

“i don’t want to ignore him. it’s getting really hard to do that. i just, gosh, i really just don’t know what to do.”

“i get it. but i also don’t. what are you so afraid of?” gianna questioned.

you wanted to say ‘everything’. it was true. you were scared of hearing his voice tell you that he didn’t feel the same, his reaction when you tell him it’s true, oh god, it seriously was the most embarrassing thing in the world.

“i’m afraid of the truth. i really wanted to hold onto my crush and just peacefully love him.”

gianna frowned before turning to stand in front of you, both of you guys stopping.

“the truth may be scary. you may expect him to not feel the same; but anything’s possible. while i know how crazy those letters are, trust me, i can say for sure that you shouldn’t ignore him anymore. he deserves an explanation.”

gianna was right, and she knew she was too.

with a sigh, you nodded.

to face him after this all is like opening mary poppin’s bag. there’s no certainty at all, and you knew that it was going to be so uncomfortable.

gianna’s eyes began to drift to behind you, your natural instinct telling you to look.

you turned to see pepe standing behind you, a shy expression reflecting on his face.

“good luck!” gianna cheered before walking out the gate.

“gigi!” you shouted.

she began to skip happily, an obvious taunt to your calling.

“gianna!”

you turned around to look back at pepe, who’s hand was touching his neck shyly.

oh god. you were done for. you could tell that he was annoyed, or maybe angry? fear began to make an appearance on your face, your body staying frozen.

“can we talk now?”

[scenemoheartzz]

“Bunnydoll is a great ship - Their dynamic is fun to work with and is what makes the ship interesting!”

You are objectively correct. Bunnydoll is an interesting ship to work with, especially with their dynamic. It’s fun to mess around with in fan content. Plus, it’s not really a problematic ship, so it’s fine if you enjoy it.

“—And they would be a great couple in canon!”

Aaand that’s where you lose me. I don’t care what you ship as long as it’s not problematic, but there’s a handful of ships that could never be canon — and Bunnydoll is one of those.

First off. Jax leaving Ragatha and Pomni to deal with Kaufmo alone in the pilot episode. Assuming that he knew what abstractracted circus members could do, this is kinda fucked. He left both of them to get wrecked by this giant abstracted being and didn’t seem to show much remorse for it later on in the episode. Sure, there’s an argument to be made that he was just frightened, but he didn’t apologize at ALL and even tried to act like Kaufmo was fine, so it’s pretty safe to assume that there was some malice behind it, even if he was scared.

Second of all, he literally pushed Ragatha into a pile of knives. Sure, he might not have known, but she already had a knife in her head from falling back there which is a pretty good indicator of there being knives back there. He also didn’t listen to her yelling about the knives despite clearly hearing it, indicating that he just doesn’t care. Also, last I checked, you don’t physically assault the people you love.

Also, let’s not forget he almost got her eaten by a fucking fudge monster on purpose. He knew what he was saying here and there’s no real way to defend his behavior here. He was literally just being mean to her for the fun of it.

I think episode four is a big indicator First of all, he literally threw Ragatha into a deep fryer knowing it would hurt her and it was just for his own amusement which is evident by his tone. He didn’t care about her screaming in pain even after Gangle got onto him and just left her there until she (assumably) got herself out.

Also, she literally admitted to hating him. Sure, she was high on the stupid sauce, but if you take into account all her behavior in this state, she was being brutally honest to everyone, implying that she truly does hate him. She also said his name specifically so she wasn’t saying it to any random person, she was directing it to him and she meant it.

I’m fine with anybody who ships BunnyDoll, but saying that they could be canon seems inaccurate to me considering how they actually interact. I could maaybe see them as exes, but I just can’t see them in a genuinely loving relationship. Ragatha hates Jax and Jax constantly tortures Ragatha, so they don’t even like each other canonically, let alone love each other (at least not romantically).

Remember, this is just my opinion. I don’t think anybody who ships this is inherently bad, I just think they could never work realistically. Have a good day TADC community

[charlemagne-yy]

I loved AKATSUKI, I really did. Their passion had my heart. The names Keito, Kuro, and Souma felt like a warm embrace. But what Happy Elements did is unforgivable. I cannot support them anymore. Farewell Enstars, it was an interesting ride.

If anyone's is interested, DM me for the link to a Google Drive containing all of AKATSUKI's discography from 2015 - 2024. Feel free to save. Continue the boycott.

This includes:

full discography

album cover photos

complete credit and labelling of names

LONG RANT AHEAD! (mentions of imperialism, w@r, abus3, d3ath, SA, and r@cism are ahead. read at your own risk!)

I got into Enstars because of Umehara Yuichiro (Keito's VA) and of course, that automatically made me support AKATSUKI. However, going into their stories and getting to know each character, I really fell in love with them. I loved their songs, I loved what they represent.

When Happy Elements announced that Ibuki was joining, I was confused. 10 years of bond was wasted, just like that. Upon further research, I became disgusted at what the company implicated with Ibuki's arrival. It meant erasing his identity as part of an indigenous minority group to be assimilated to the the culture of his colonizers. It hurt me, not just personally, but it felt like I was struck with intergenerational trauma. My heart, that was once embraced by the love I have for Keito, Kuro, and Souma, suddenly felt like it was locked in a chokehold. Ibuki Taki did not deserve this treatment. Happy Elements shouldn't have made a character with an indigenous background if they're only capable of disrespecting and trashing on their culture. Ibuki Taki should have shined on his own.

Again, Ibuki Taki and Chiaki Kobayashi (Ibuki VA) doesn't deserve this.

See, I came from a country where Imperial Japan invaded, colonized, abused, tortured my ancestors. They came to destroy our culture, violate our people, and for what? For the assimilation of culture—they said. But was it? While they spread their propaganda and taught their culture and language, they also belittled, discriminated, t0rtured, and s3xually vi0l@ted our people because they were r@cist and x3nophobic. It's not surprising that a lot of them are like this until now (not generalizing every Japanese again). Our blood was deemed "below" them despite being their fellow human. Men, women, and children alike, they did not choose. And until now, they haven't apologized to those countries they ruined and even demanded to take down statues that commemorated the heroes and their suffering of those horrific years. Disgusting; revolting, truly.

My grandmother's father was taken by the Japanese soldiers. He was t0rtured and hung to d3ath inside a prison filled with decaying corpses. Until a flood that decimated that underground prison, their bodies would not have been found. Right now, their bodies lay at a mass grave, honored but unnamed. My grandmother's mother di3d in the bombings and she was forced to retrieve her body, clean it, dress it up, and bury it. My grandmother was only 9 years old when that war happened. She hid in between the crevices of thick stone walls that were constantly bombed. She told me, everyday she would wonder if she'll get crushed inside these stones soon. Everyday, she feared not satisfying a Japanese soldier by mere bow and will be taken into a den where women were captured, abus3d, and vi0lated day and night, again and again. For days at a time, she hid inside barrels just to retrieve food for her and her younger siblings' survival. She was orphaned and captured by the Japanese soldiers, fed propaganda, and forcibly taught their culture, and yet, her spirit remained strong, at such young age. If not for my ancestors, then at least, for her.

Despite AKATSUKI's Yamato-themed concept, I supported them. What AKATSUKI represented was not Imperial Japan, not the Meiji Period and onwards. AKATSUKI celebrated tradition and culture through the modern arts. I loved how they incorporated these concepts. Although they had their hiccups along the way (i.e. the Dance of Swords, Imperial-themed costume), I still supported them. I love what each member represented, especially Keito's integrity and devotion. But what they did with Ibuki's introduction, the absolute fuck up of Keito's character, and now, the rerecording of the songs, and the new music videos? My heart just shattered. The Rising Sun flag of Japan is a symbol of w@r, bloodshed, and trauma for the generations of people they vi0lated, and to symbolize that in Hyakka Ryouran's new MV? A beautiful song about a beautiful spring? Absolutely disgusting. They cannot have my support anymore.

Keito's entire character was trashed. His ambitions and devotion were forgotten. The words he uttered are not the words he will say; the actions he did are absolutely acts of betrayal. He will never do that to Kuro and Souma. Never. All of this bullshit, and for what? R@cist propaganda? Furthermore, Souma looked utterly out of character. He's angry and devastated—that's not him. He is hopeful and absolutely elegant. Was killing your beloved characters worth it? Shut the fuck up, Happy Elements. You will never witness the moment where their songs reaches the fucking Billboard Top 10 ever again. This is not just outrage but, absolute tragedy.

I will still love AKATSUKI, but the version where there's only three of them. I don't want to engage in content about the new AKATSUKI because it will only taint my precious memories of the three members. It really hurts. I feel like crying. Although, if I happen to upload fanfiction content about AKATSUKI in the future, it will absolutely be canon divergence because Happy Elements is just a fucking untouchable slop that even bacteria wouldn't touch.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

"You're Okay"

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After Aaron and his agent are saved from captivity, she grapples with returning to her regular life with her husband when the only person she wants to be around is Aaron.

Warning: no use of y/n, traumatized!reader, angst, heavily implied SA, kidnapping, probably psychological torture, panic attacks, emotional infidelity,

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist

As the plane fell still and the engines died down, a new sound emerged. Cheering. I couldn’t see outside thanks to all the windows being shut per my request but that didn't prevent the fact that I was being forced into a pap walk by the Director of the FBI. I looked down at my lap finding shaking fingers that were only stilled by clasping my hands together.

I could feel the rest of my team look at me, pitying me, afraid to upset me. I tried to force myself up off my seat but I just couldn’t. The idea of being put on display, of being heralded as strong, made me sick.

I only looked up from my lap when a figure appeared by my side. Looking up, I found JJ giving me that pitying look I knew would linger on everyone else’s face out there. “I know you don’t want to but we have to go out.”

I nodded, convinced if I opened my mouth I’d puke. With trembling hands I grasped the armrests beside me, using them to stand up. I looked at my entire team for the first time since I was rescued finding them looking at me with those sad looks in their eyes. All of them except my boss, Aaron, whose expression held stern reassurance as he nodded at me. I returned it, stepping into the aisle and towards the now opened plane door.

I didn’t remember the shaky steps until I was suddenly confronted by blinding light as I emerged outside onto the platform of the air stair. I couldn’t tell if I had caused it or if it was just being outside but I swear the cheers grew louder. But they didn’t make me feel good, rather, I felt like a fraud undeserving of their applause.

The cheers grew somehow louder as my fellow prisoner emerged onto the platform with me. My inclination to pass out was subsided my Aaron Hotchner’s mere presence. He had been my rock, my comfort, my everything when we had been held by a group of unsubs.

Still, I could not find it in me to make my way down the steps until I felt the lightest trace of his comforting fingers on my arm. A little bit more grounded and taking his cue, I hesitantly moved one step forward, pausing just before the first stair. Hotch must have noticed my hesitant unsteadiness because his arm slotted under mine as he urged me forward.

The closer and closer we got to the ground the more I felt like I was going to pass out but Hotch’s grasp kept me anchored until we finally reached the bottom. His grasp lingered as I was first greeted by the Director of the FBI. Truthfully I never wanted him to let go but he did. After shaking the director’s hand he ceased contact with me as the next person I was greeted with was my husband.

I had hardly even met his gaze before he was slamming into me, pulling me into his embrace. As he clutched me I wanted nothing more than to be let go. My tenure in the hands of now dead men flashed in my mind as I tried not to give away my panic. I wanted to break down sobbing and beg him to let me go but I just kept repeating a mantra in my head I had prepared. This is James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you. I could hear the cameras flashing, capturing what was supposed to be the new V-J Day in Times Square photo. I wasn’t sure what exactly they were capturing but the small part of me that wrote that mantra for these moments hoped I didn’t look too panicked.

I was only saved from my oncoming panic attack by Aaron’s voice. “James,” he greeted my husband who fortunately let go.

“Aaron,” he returned. Whilst his crushing grip on me was released, he maintained a hand on my back that may as well have been a collar. He went to go shake his hand but was interrupted by a cry from behind.

“Daddy!” came the sweet voice of Jack as he dashed from the larger crowd before us.

Aaron’s attention was immediately diverted from my husband to his son as he stooped down. Jack launched himself into his father’s arms as Aaron stood, lifting him from the ground and holding him tight, as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Which he no doubt was. When Aaron wasn’t comforting me, I was comforting him about his son.

The cameras flashed wildly and I knew that they would be the featured photo. Seeing Aaron hold his son was to see a true expression of love, one that couldn’t be captured with James and I.

By now the rest of the team had descended onto solid ground. I should have felt comforted by their presence like I was when it was just us on the plane. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I got from James’ icy grip, keeping me firmly cemented in his presence.

After a moment of waving to the cameras, he finally began steering us to one of the awaiting SUVs parked on the tarmac. But as we walked past the crowd, I could hear the reporter speaking to the camera positioned to capture us as well.

“And there you have it. After nearly a month of being held captive by a group of serial kidnappers and murderers, the two FBI agents are reunited with their families. One can only imagine the horrors…”

I was never more grateful for a car door to shut then in that moment. The idea of being made to relive it through everyone’s speculation made me want to be swallowed up into the earth. Never to be heard from or thought of or speculated about again.

As James slid into his seat on the other side of the car, intertwining his fingers with mine, I somehow never felt more alone. Like a part of me was missing. I knew exactly where that part was: in another SUV with his son and former sister-in-law, probably feeling like he was whole again.

~

Looking away from the Director, Aaron found his subordinate, his confidant, the woman who, for a moment there, was his everything in captivity. But she was in the arms of her husband, her high school sweetheart, who she had been through nearly everything with.

He hated that he wanted nothing more than to rip them apart from one another. After everything that had happened, some selfish part of him thought that he might be the only man she felt comfortable being touched by. He knew it was selfish, but the idea of just abandoning their closeness from them was unbearable to him. It was like some twisted version of Stockholm syndrome, where he needed his fellow prisoner to survive.

“James,” the name left his mouth before he could think. The bureaucrat looked at him, unwrapping from his wife and extending a hand to shake. Aaron moved to return it when a voice he missed more than anything emerged from the crowd.

“Daddy!” his son’s voice cut through the sounds of the tarmac.

Immediately pulling his attention from the man in front of him, he found his son’s blond hair glinting in the son as he ran towards him. The suit that the Director no doubt orchestrated for him to wear looked ridiculous flapping in the wind as he ran. But Aaron didn’t care, no one cared as they observed father and son reunite, each of them only having each other.

As his son fell into his arms, the ache and longing Aaron had previously felt disappeared as he held his son for the first time in over a month. He could hear the cameras flashing and the applause from the crowd but he couldn’t have cared less. He had his son back and that’s all that mattered.

A soft hand on his back reminded him of where he was. Looking up from Jack, he found Jessica looking at him with a smile, tears of joy pricking her eyes. “Welcome home.”

Still holding his son, Aaron nodded. “Thank you. For everything.” He truly could not thank her enough. He turned to find the woman he had spent the last month protecting, intent to bring her into his own reunion but she was gone, and with her disappearance went his sense of wholeness. Looking further down the tarmac, he found her already in front of an SUV, her husband’s arm around her as he opened the door, letting her in before cutting her off from the rest of the world. Unwilling to show or feel his disappointment, he just held Jack tighter, heading to his own awaiting SUV.

As they approached the vehicle, he could hear the words of a reporter. “While the FBI has yet to speak in detail about what occurred, it is widely speculated that Agent Shaw was assaulted in captivity. Her husband, James Shaw, is expected-”

The reporter’s voice was silenced by the car door shutting, much to Aaron’s relief. Looking across the front seats of the car, through the windshield he could see the car that held his agent and her husband. No doubt she was relieved to be with him again, to feel safe and be able to trust another man again. He felt… ungrateful and dirty longing for someone when he had been reunited with the person he cherished most in the world. All of his attention should be on his son and not the married woman in the car in front of him.

~

“We’re home,” James said softly as he opened the door to our home. Walking in should have been a breath of fresh air. I should have finally been able to relax but I couldn’t. I couldn’t decide why but somehow this place felt haunted.

Turning, I looked at James’ hopeful face. I could tell he had sensed something was off during the very tense drive. And that all his hopes were riding on me going back to normal once we got home. I forced a smile, walking further into the house.

Walking through the foyer and past the living room I expected to find it a mess of scattered things and discarded plates but it was actually quite tidy. Continuing to the kitchen I expected at least the sink to overflowing but it wasn’t. Pausing in the room, my eyes fell to the backyard. In the time I had been away the color of autumn was gone. Before I left the leaves were still green, with just a few beginning to yellow. But now, they all laid in a dead brown mess on the grass, leaving bare branches, only illuminated by the cold white lights coming from our back porch.

As I heard footsteps enter behind me, I instinctively turned, pressing my back into the counter. As James came into view, I expected relief to come but it never did. It’s just James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you, played in my mind.

He smiled as he looked at me, holding his arms wide, gesturing to the kitchen. “See?” he began proudly. “You always say I can never keep the house clean. But look!”

I forced a smile, trying to look pleased. I studied behavior extensively, I was a good actress for it. I knew I should observe all of his “hard work” like an adoring wife, it’s what he was waiting for. But I just couldn’t take my eyes off of him, waiting for any sign that he would advance. No, I reprimanded myself. This is James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you. “It’s great,” was all I managed to muster.

With an even wider grin, he approached me. It took all of my self control to not stiffen further as he gently rested his hands on my hips, slotting his face against mine so our noses brushed, our lips hardly a centimeter apart. This is James. James is your husband. He won’t hurt you.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed, finally connecting our lips.

At the somewhat forced intimacy I wanted to cry. All of my self defense instincts kicked in but I pushed them down, willing myself to not push him away. But after a moment or so of feeling my stiff lack of reciprocity, he pulled away, a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Just tired. I think I want to go to bed,” I claimed, trying to subtly slip out from in between him and the counter, trying to escape the feeling of being trapped.

I could see the flash of hurt cross his face as he nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be up soon.” I just nodded, quickly heading upstairs, desperate to escape his disappointment.

As I entered our bedroom I immediately went to the ensuite bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face in an attempt to return myself to earth, I immediately regretted it as I looked in the mirror. The water had removed the cheap makeup the bureau had provided for me, removing the coverage and the layer of protection it had provided me. Now, I stared at the dark circles, bruised cheekbones, and bruised neck that seemed to accentuate the hollow look in my eye.

I found myself just staring at the image in front of me, trying to make sense of it for god knows how long when i was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Darling? Are you okay?” James’ concerned voice reverberated through the door.

“I’m fine,” I called. “Be out in a minute.” I tried to calm myself down for another several moments before deciding that it would only cause unnecessary questions if I showed him the marks on me. After a quick application of my makeup, careful to make it look as if I weren’t wearing anything, I emerged from the bathroom.

I paused in the doorway, finding James sat on the bed, stripped down to only his boxers. He turned his gaze from the tv, sending me a soft smile. I just halted seeing himself in his undressed state. “Erm, bathroom’s yours if you want it,” I said, heading over to my dresser to find more comfortable clothes for bed.

“I’m alright,” he said.

I just nodded, quickly grabbing the first set of clothing I could find. Clutching them, I moved to head back into the bathroom but was interrupted by James’ soft laugh. It was not mocking or even all that humorous, more so just a soft release of tension. “Where are you going? You can change in front of me.”

A weight was added to my heart as I looked between him and the clothes. “I-I know. I just…” the words died on my tongue as I found myself at a loss for an explanation without telling him what was bothering me. That I didn’t want him to see the scratches and bruises that littered my body. That I didn’t want him or any other man to look at my body ever again. That the only person I could feel remotely comfortable naked with was my boss.

So I just disappeared into the bathroom, no doubt leaving him with more disappointment and questions. I didn’t even bother looking at myself in the mirror this time, knowing I’d burst into tears looking at the marks on my body, ruining the makeup I had just put on.

As I exited the bathroom, I immediately got under the covers and turned my bedside lamp off, hardly even looking at my husband in the process. I didn’t hear a sigh behind me but I could practically sense it as he turned off the light and the tv as well, slumping under the covers.

“I love you,” came his soft voice, turned away from me despite my knowing that he wanted to face me.

“I love you too,” I returned, although I doubt my voice was convincing.

~

We were trapped in a motherfucking metal box of a room. No windows, no weaknesses, no way out. The only remote chance of freedom was a metal reinforced door that looked more like the hatch to a bank safe than a door.

Looking down at my feet, I found Aaron’s loafer enclosed toes a mere inch from mine. My gaze drifted up, finding my boss’ gaze as he stared contemplatively at the ground.

We had been sitting in silence for the better part of an hour, having already exhausted out strategies for escape. “Listen,” he hesitantly broke the silence. “You and I both know the profile. Their female victims were…” the words died in his throat, unwilling to even utter the possibility of that kind of an assault on his subordinate.

“I know,” I interrupted, my head hitting the wall. “I know.”

“I’m gonna protect you as best as I can,” he swore, moving from his wall to sit next to me.

I wanted to tell him no, to think of protecting himself, to tell him not to antagonize our captors while we were unarmed. But instead, I found myself crumbling. I leaned against him, tears slipping down my face as I remembered all the horrid things they did to the poor girls who had been in this room before me. His arm wrapped around me pulling me to him so I was crying into his shoulder rather than being as strong as I thought I was.

He wrapped both arms around me as if they alone could protect me from whatever would walk through that door, pulling me closer so I was practically in his lap. “No matter what happens, you’re gonna be okay,” he tried to assure me. “No matter what they do, don’t let them break you. We’ll get out of here, the team will find us.”

After who knows how long of crying, the door finally opened. Aaron let go of me in order to stand. He stood in front of me as four masked men entered the room. They didn’t say a word as three advanced. Aaron moved into a fighting position but he was no match for three of them. Two quickly subdued him as one grabbed at me. I screamed as he got his arms around me, dragging me from the corner and towards the door. “Aaron!” I heard myself scream.

“Aaron!” I cried. I blinked, finding only darkness for a moment before I managed to see outlines.

But beside me, I sensed James. He sat up with me, quickly turning on the lamp and momentarily blinding me. “It’s okay,” he was quick to assure.

As my mind caught up, I found my breath becoming more shallow and tears welling up in my eyes. As I desperately tried to suck in a sustaining breath, James tried to comfort me.

“Shh,” he hushed, his hand falling onto my shoulder. “You’re alright,” he dismissed, already turning to turn the lamp off. As he laid down again, his hand found my shoulder again as he tried to ease me down. I knew his touch was meant to be comforting but it just felt dismissive.

Reluctantly I settled down as best I could, focusing on being able to breathe. But after several moments of short breath, I did the only thing I could think of. Grabbing my phone, I headed downstairs. Already sifting through my contacts, I found what I was looking for as I slipped on my shoes.

“Hello?” came a tired voice after only the first ring.

“Hey,” I began, my voice cracking immediately as tears welled in my eyes.

“Hey,” his voice returned, sounding more alert with a touch of concern. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted. “Can I come over? James is asleep.” Sobs now openly shook my voice.

“Of course,” Aaron’s voice became increasingly steadier. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”

“No,” I refused, already heading towards the garage. “I’ll uh, see you in fifteen.”

“Okay,” his voice came. “Be safe.”

“I will,” I agreed.

Throwing the car in reverse, I backed out of the driveway into the empty street. The entire drive to Aaron’s was a blur as I raced through the streets the best my hazy vision would let me. Until I finally pulled up to the Hotchner house, finding the porch light and living room light on. By the time I got out of the car, Aaron was already standing in the doorway on the porch waiting for me.

Without even stopping to lock the car I ran towards my boss. I didn’t care if it looked ridiculous, I threw myself into his arms to which he gladly welcomed me. Immediately sobs shook me as I broke down in his comfortable embrace.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured softly as he led me gently. I walked with him long enough for the both of us to settle on the couch. “What happened?” he asked.

I sniffled, trying to pull myself together. “I had a dream about when we were there and…” Sobs choked me. “And James… I- he… he just doesn’t get it. He’s trying to be there for me in the way he knows how but… he doesn’t even know I’m here right now. But I have this mantra to remind me that he won’t hurt me but honestly…”

Aaron leaned closer, his eyebrow quirked. “What?” he asked.

I looked at him and for the first time since being apart from him I didn’t feel the need to pull away from another person. “The only person I feel comfortable around it you,” I confessed.

Aaron nodded, unsure of how to react. He couldn’t smile, rejoicing in another man’s loss aside, he wasn’t in a place to smile. But the knowledge that the woman in front of him only felt a sense of calm and security with him brought him a strange sense of satisfaction that he felt guilty for. So doing the only thing that seemed right to the both of him, he just wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he assured. “I’m here for you

Masterlist

A/N This was kind of an abstract idea that popped into my head so if it was shit I'm sorry!

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 42

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: A Web Of Spiders

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  42/47

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By the time darkness fell over the land, which was earlier than it had been in the warmer days, the thieves had brought the wagon all the way to their camp. There were not many tents and all looked like they had survived a few storms, for the rest there were blankets and items on the ground that marked their sleeping spots. Gerold, a muscular build man with a beard that reached his abdomen, was in charge of them. He pulled you down from the wagon and began to lead you to one of the tents.

“You’re going to tell me exactly where you got that coin.” He shoved you into the tent and followed inside.

You swiftly turned to face him. “I will tell you nothing unless I get my ring back.”

Gerold took the ring out of his pocket, holding it between his thumb and index finger. “You do not get to make demands. You will cooperate or I’ll let you watch as I put a hammer to this.”

He spoke so condescending, so cruelly. Cassian and him would have been good friends.

“Now. Tell me.” he demanded.

The cloak of silence fell over you. There was no chance that you were going to send that group of violent thieves to the home the others were fighting to build.

It angered him. He grabbed hold on you and bound you with your back to the wooden beam in the midst of the tent. “Want to play the quiet mouse, eh? Let’s see how quiet you can stay after starving for a few days.”

From experience, you knew you could go days without a meal before your nagging stomach won from your stubborn head.

A woman entered the tent, her voice rough as she spoke to him. “You’ll get to starve for a few days too if you do not come and eat the meal I made!”

The fearsome attitude of him faltered at the threat of her. He walked out of the tent under her scolding eyes.

She turned to you for a moment with a look of disgust. “You would do well not to anger him. My husband will carve into your skin until you yield.”

It slipped off of your tongue. “I hope he is a patient man then.”

She was not amused by the wit. “I’ll ask him to carve my name into your back. See if you still dare to talk back to me after that.”

She all but stormed out of the tent furious, proving how ill-tempered she was. Tied to a wooden beam in the midst of the tent, oh how familiar. Your satchel was discarded further away after they had simply taken the coins out of it, the rest was not worth their time. Not even your weapons had caught their interest, they were tossed on the satchel. The scent of what they had prepared for themselves to eat hanged around the tent, they chatted among each other outside as if it was a regular occurrence to abduct a person and tie them up for coin. Now that you were alone, you let yourself calm down and focus on getting out of there alive.

You thought back to the time when you were forced to create the mystical fire to make Father Carden spare the journal from the flames. Lancelot’s presence and touch had made it easier to bring it forward, but time had proven that you were able to do it on your own as well. A lack of experience and practise did not stop you now to try and call upon the magic resting within your being. There was no plant’s sap in your veins to silence the magic within them. ‘Strong emotions could control it’ is what Merlin had said. And so you closed your eyes, letting the voices outside fade out as your mind traveled to find what it needed. It came in the form of the vision the Old Gods had fed to you and got stronger when thinking of your ring in the hands of that rotten bastard who’s comrades had struck Lancelot earlier. With deep breaths you tried to control the awakening of the fire, letting it’s sparks turn the rope at your wrists into ashes. You took the lantern that stood on the floor of the tent, opening it’s hinged glass door to reach the flame. It took focus and patience, a difficult matter when in the midst of an enemy camp where time was of the essence, but the flame transformed into the beautiful bright green you were growing to love. You were going to get that ring and wagon back, at all cost.

Upon stepping out of the tent. The startled eyes and the sounds of steel being drawn filled the night. You locked eyes with Gerold, who had been enjoying his meal, and quietly asked the Hidden for some help. You held the lantern up for him to see and quirked an arrogant brow, then slammed the lantern against the ground, it’s glass shattered on impact. The Fey Fire freed itself and unleashed upon the camp, feeding itself on your intent. A ruthless power cast it’s wrath down upon the thieves, burning all it could touch of them. Some fled into the forest, some got caught in the fire and some perished at the steel of your weapons. Your markings burned a fiery crimson beneath your eyes, letting them know exactly who was responsible for their demise. The Hidden were on your side now, protecting one of their clan who was bound to their kin. Gerold had been caught by the fire and had rolled over the ground in a desperate attempt to extinguish it, it was a choice of the Hidden to allow it.

You walked up to him whilst he was still in shock on the ground and took the ring from his pocket, slipping it back on your finger. “I should let you burn. But I will be merciful.”

He shook violently. “What are you?!?”

“Your undoing.” Mercy came in the form of your sword sinking into his heart, twisting the blade before pulling it back out again.

As you slowly stepped back, the fire consumed him whole. The chaos around you faded only slowly as the fire erased the presence of the camp entirely. One thing remained untouched by the flames, that old rattling wagon that held the spark of new hope for the Fey.

        A little while later the flames had nearly all faded out, what was left of the camp had turned to ashes. This group of thieves had been a threat to all they’d encounter, a problem that was now dealt with. Those who had fled were fortunate and you hoped they were wise enough not to return to what they had so narrowly escaped.

You were loading up the wagon again. Folding all they had so carelessly tossed around in search of more coin. The sound of approaching horses made you seek cover behind the wagon. You heard them come to a halt, and seconds later footsteps. You quietly drew your dagger, ready to face the ones who had returned after fleeing. Footsteps were near your left side, just around the corner of the wagon. You moved out of hiding and grabbed hold of them, dagger moving to strike.

“Whoa! Stop!” Arthur was planted with his back against the wagon, taken by surprise by your sudden attack.

You let go of him immediately. “Gods… Arthur. I’m sorry! I thought it was those thieves again.”

Lancelot’s voice came from behind you, “Fortunately, this one is on our side.”

Arthur glared at him for the remark, but you did not notice. You were quick to close the distance and wrap your arms around Lancelot who had not seemed to have expected the reaction.

He brought an arm around to hold you. “Have they harmed you? What happened here?”

“I’m alright. I used my magic against them.” You held up your hand, showing him the ring. “I got our things back.”

“You did all this?” Arthur was flabbergasted.

Lancelot did not hide that it impressed him. “Did you?”

You turned to Arthur, fearing an ill response from him. “They were dangerous. I didn’t want them to ruin what we are building at the fort.”

Lancelot gave a nod. “A wise choice.”

Arthur turned to him. “She burned them alive…”

“And we slaughtered those we fought earlier.” he reminded Arthur. “They were going to do the same to us, Arthur. The amount of gold we possess will make monsters of the greatest saints.”

Arthur paced around a little, stopping only to speak to you, “You’re a weapon.”

It was the wrong thing to say, even though you knew it was not meant as an insult to you. Arthur was simply thinking about the usefulness of your power.

But when Lancelot heard it being said, he reacted furious. “She is no weapon!”

Arthur had not expected the strong reaction. “I didn’t mean-”

He got closer to Arthur, trying to contain the fury within. “And no one will make her to be one.”

It hit you right there and then that he would not allow anyone to turn you into a weapon, because he had had no one there to protect him from those who had made him into one. The Fey Fire roaring in the blood of your clan was a weapon that many would wish to possess.

You placed a hand on Lancelot’s arm, feeling the tension leave it right away. “Arthur was just pointing out that this magic is a useful help. He wouldn’t do what Father Carden planned to do.”

A flash of remorse for the past flashed through those weeping eyes, once he had been the one involved in that plan to make you into a weapon for the paladins and now he was protecting you from it. Even though he knew you had forgiven him, he still looked uncomfortable at the memory of it.

He turned to Arthur. “Forgive me. I lost my patience.”

Arthur made a jest about it to break the tension. “At least the sword stayed sheathed.”

Lancelot tried one of his own, “Gawain will not be pleased if I return with your corpse.”

That only pinched at Arthur’s ego. “What makes you think you could best me?”

“Is it not obvious to you?” he said, sounding just a tad condescending.

You groaned loudly, pushing past them to go to Bear and see if he was alright. There was not a scratch on him and the stallion was happy to see you unharmed as well. Goliath must have suffered from the lack of attention from you, because he bit a hold on the sleeve of your jacket and proceeded to pull until you were closer to him.

“Goliath!” Lancelot quickly commanded, “Loose!”

The horse let go, but did proceed to demand your attention by bumping his nose against your head and blowing air through his nose into your face. You petted Goliath’s neck, cooing some sweet words to the wise animal.

“You’re just as needy as your rider.” you whispered to the stallion.

The whisper had been a little too loud as Arthur laughed while he walked by to take charge of the wagon again, he received a glare from Lancelot. You dared to stick your tongue out to the annoyed Ash Man to tease him further.

His fingers caught your chin, taking hold of it, index and thumb at each corner of your mouth. “That is not very ladylike.”

The fall of his gaze to your lips was blatantly obvious. Goliath bit hold on his cloak, giving it one firm tug, believing if he was denied your attention he would deny it his rider too. Lancelot stumbled back, having to grab hold onto the saddle to keep his balance.

“Problem?” Arthur asked him very cheery.

“No.” he sounded less cheery.

You hoisted yourself into Bear’s saddle while Lancelot quietly scolded Goliath for his behavior. The stallion just nudged him in the chest a few times, bored by it. He gave up, tied the reins of Arthur’s horse to the saddle, and pulled himself into Goliath’s saddle.

“How did you two find me?” you wondered out loud.

Lancelot looked your way. “We saw the green flames in the distance. It does stand out well in the darkness.”

You tried to see if there were any other injuries on him beside the obvious bruising on the corner of his jaw. “Are you two alright? I saw you and Arthur be struck when you fought them.”

He smiled to himself at the memory of his first encounter in battle with the Manblood. “He will live. It’s not the first beating he endured.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Alright… and you?”

He put your mind at ease, “It’s nothing a salve cannot heal.”

You hoped it was the truth. “Just let me know if you need help putting the salve on then.”

A dashing lopsided smirk appeared on his face before he turned his head to look at you riding beside him. “Of course.”

He doubted he could not manage alone, but the offer was too tempting to decline.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Upon arriving back at the castle, Gawain had stood at the gate with his arms crossed. From his stance alone everyone could see that he was not pleased to see the three of you arrive back so late and nearing the night.

The knight looked at all as he demanded an answer. “Where the bloody hell have you been?!?”

“We went to the market as you asked.” Arthur began. “Ran into thieves who stole the wagon and wares we bought. Oh, and they took her with them.”

Gawain blinked a few times, then turned his attention to Lancelot. “Well?”

“We got her back.” Was what the tongue-tied Ash Man blurted out.

“Yes. I can see that.” Gawain sighed. “I meant to ask if we need to be worried about being met with retribution coming from these thieves?”

Lancelot glanced at you for a second, a sly smirk curving his lips. “I do not believe we will have to worry about any trouble regarding it.”

Gawain looked at you for confirmation and saw you nod sheepishly. “Good. Leave the wagon here, we will get some of Red’s crew to unload it. Supper is nearly cold but it will still be better than an empty stomach.”

You followed the knight into the castle and were greeted by Percival whom you told of the clothes you had bought for him. The boy was eager to see them, but the knight steered him towards the dining hall and you promised you’d give the clothes to him later. Percival told you and Lancelot all about the day he had spend helping the Green Knight, he felt so proud to be able to help. You did have to remind him that his potatoes were getting cold, but the boy simply spoke while he chewed much to the dislike of Lancelot who tried to teach him not to do so.

After an hour or so, when all were done with supper, Gawain had put down a scroll of parchment to discuss with Arthur what needed to be done for the castle while the rest quietly watched on. Most were too tired to truly pay attention, while Gawain showed no signs of exhaustion at all as if having this new hope fueled him body and soul. Red Spear looked beyond annoyed by another list of tasks being spoken about so late in the evening, it would not be long before she retreated to her quarters. Merlin tried to look interested but the tankard of ale had most of his attention. Pym was making a pattern on the table with some almonds. Lancelot tried to listen to the many plans Gawain thought up on the spot to help decide what needed to be focused on first. Steel would be arranged to forge weapons, a garden to plant vegetables that would sustain those of the castle, and then there was the repair of one of the water wells on the east side of the castle.

You struggled to keep your attention on their discussion, often taking a sip of water to stay awake. Even Percival had gone to bed when Gawain brought the list to table. Almost did you doze off to sleep, but a loud crack of thunder slammed you back awake. Oh, how you hated thunder and lightning, the sound alone awoke a deep primal fear in you that you couldn’t truly explain.

Lancelot had seen your startled reaction. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded, too proud to admit how much you hated the sound of thunder. He slipped his hand under the table, grazing it over your knee.

“You can go to bed.” Lancelot whispered to you. “Gawain can go on for the rest of the night. He will tell us again in the morning when he finally makes up his mind.”

You realized that you weren’t sure where to even sleep. “Should I go to the room where we were in last night?”

He gave a nod. “Yes. I chose that one. Did you like it?”

“Good choice.” You smiled.

For a moment, the light of the candelabras fell so perfectly on his face, making him look as ethereal as a deity. He took a few sips from his tankard of water.

You got up from the chair, leaning down just to whisper to him, “You are exceptionally handsome.”

That tankard halted before it could touch his lips again. The heat of the candles could not have caused the sudden slow reddening of his cheeks.

The compliment swept into his being, so gentle and welcome. So unexpected and wanted. Your voice had been sweet, a silken ribbon flowing through his ears.

He caught you by the wrist before you could take a step away, making you look down at him to see why. All eyes of the dining hall were on the former Weeping Monk who had made such quick sudden movements, trying to understand the situation before them. His eyes slightly narrowed, the decision in him was being made. He stood, feeling the stares glued to him, cupped your left cheek and kissed the other. It was a polite peck, a sweet gesture that made your heart swell. Your eyes softened at him. With an arch of his brow he wordlessly told you to go before he’d not be able to let go of you again. With a flustered face you left the dining hall, ignoring Gawain’s slight smirk.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  The thunder shook the windows of the castle. Lightning lighted the room every few seconds. You couldn’t sleep and tried to distract yourself by writing in the journal a little. There was no sign of Lancelot yet, which was odd, surely Gawain was not keeping them up the whole night?

The sound of thunder rumbled through the sky, making your heartbeat spike uncomfortably. You couldn’t stand the loud sound anymore and put on your cloak over your chemise to go and search for Lancelot.

Your first destination was the dining hall, it was deserted just like you had expected it to be. But then, where was he?

Minutes went by where you went from door to door, so many of them, and used your nose to try and detect the scent of him. The only sounds were snores, coughs and the thunder. Finally you picked up his scent at a door that was not even far from the room that you had been in. Slowly you opened the door, peeking inside. There, in the corner of the room he sat on the floor, his back against the wall.

“Here you are.” You stepped inside. Your smile fell upon seeing his face when he tilted it up. He had been weeping, you could tell, and he was trying to hide it by turning his head to the side and down a little again.

He sounded like you had caught him committing a crime. “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

Your eyes scanned the room in the little light that that lantern of his gave. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know if you’d come to my room or-”

In the other corner of the room, opposite of him, a crib stood long abandoned. It was a piece of the puzzle you had to solve.

“I will.” he answered quick. Too quick.

He was fidgeting, gently rubbing his hands over each other again and again, trying to sooth a pain not of body but of mind. His eyes were distant as they refused to meet yours.

Slowly you got closer. “I can feel the sorrow in you now. Please, do not feel as if you need to hide it.”

He was quiet for some time, eyes fixed on that cot and yet so much further away. “I often prayed that God would allow me to forget all that I was before I was found by Father Carden. To ease my suffering…”

You stopped beside him, lowering yourself to the ground to sit by his side. Whatever this was, he looked devastated by it.

He kept staring off into the distance, as if viewing a memory of long ago. “His hair shimmered like gold in the sun. That is why my mother placed his crib near the window.” He swallowed hard. “Memories return to me here, small like grains of sand.”

You embraced his arm, leaning your head against it. “Was that Hector’s crib?”

He nodded once and swallowed hard again, slowly rising to his feet he stepped towards the crib. He placed his hands on the edge of the crib, looking at the lone blanket that remained inside of it. A tear escaped his eye, following the path of his mark that ran down his cheek. “I do not want this room to be touched. Not until I decide what will be done with it.”

You went over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder blade. “I am certain the others will understand.”

“Has it been done by blade… or by hand… I find myself asking.” he quietly uttered.

���Lancelot, don’t.”

He picked up the small blanket from the crib, feeling the softness of it in his hands. “Before I came to be in command of the paladins, no child of the Fey was safe. I fear my absence has made them return to their cruelty towards the children.”

He lifted the blanket to his nose, inhaling it’s scent to search for a memory that his other senses could never find.

Dust. Nothing else but dust. He could not speak, his voice could not carry the burden of words and sorrow at the same time. Oh, how he wished he could have smelled the scent of the Ash Folk on that blanket, to have one more memory of his brother.

You felt him tense under your hand. “Lancelot-”

“Go. I beseech you.” He took a sharp breath, voice not louder than a whisper, “Go rest. I will join you after this.”

It was clear he needed a moment for himself, but you feared leaving him alone in the state he was in. Deep down you worried he would still seek out the scourge to drown out the suffering, that a part of him still felt responsible for the death of his infant brother.

After a few seconds, you walked to the door alone. The cracking sound of thunder came down upon the castle like it was inside of it, catching you completely off-guard. A gasp, a barely held back scream, and there you were against the wall from pure fright. It was mortifying to have such a response to just a noise, but you couldn’t help it or explain the reason for the fear it awoke inside. You looked back at him, hoping he somehow hadn’t noticed a thing, unfortunately he was staring back at you. Without saying a word, you pushed yourself away from the wall and went to the door a little quicker, closing it behind you to give him the alone time he needed.

You hurried to your room again, hoping to reach it before more thunder roared above the castle, as if the space could protect you from the heavens at war above your head. Sadly, a thunderbolt struck near the castle and you were back against the wall with your side, trying to calm the irrational fear soaring through your body. You hated how loud it was, you hated how it sounded like the thunder alone could destroy the castle and put you under the rubble. It didn’t make sense, and yet… it did.

    "You are afraid of the storm…?”

    It had sounded more like a statement than a question, you turned to find Lancelot looking at you a little stunned but mostly concerned, the blanket hanging over his right shoulder. He must have seen you react to the thunderbolt.

You tried to deny it, “No. It just startles me when I hear the thunder.”

He came to a halt right in front of you. “There is nothing to feel embarrassed about. We all fear something.”

You stepped past him, seeing how close you were to your room. “I don’t want to disturb the moment alone that you have asked for. I’ll be fine. Really.”

He hummed doubtful, a slight smirk formed on his lips. “I prefer not to find my wife hiding under the bed out of fear of a storm, so I shall accompany you.”

There was no way that he was not holding back more jests about the matter, it made you glare at him. “Are you truly jesting about this?!”

His smirk broke through fully. “Fear not. I will ensure that you are safe from the storm in our bed.”

‘Our’ bed?… ‘our bed’ … A shared bed… How was it so surprising to hear it be said? It felt official, the first true bed for you and him.

He had seen the small hint of surprise on your face, it had piqued his curiosity. “What is it?”

You hoped he’d understand your scrambled trail of thoughts. “We’re sharing a bed… our bed…”

His smile faltered. “Unless you do not wish for us to do so?”

“I’m just getting used to the idea that… we… I just…” You sighed, taking a second to plan the sentence in your head first. “We are wed. And I thought I had fully processed that fact. But moments like this just still make it feels so new.”

He understood that feeling but all too well. “It is a lot to take in.”

“Yes.” Relief washed over you. “And forgive me, because I am still in awe of the reality that you are my husband.”

“How so?”

“You are a very good looking man.”

His brow arched, a satisfied smug smile curled his lips. “What was it that you called me earlier this night? ‘Exceptionally handsome’?”

You messed with him a little. “You must have misheard me.”

He feigned disappointment. “And here I was, prepared to weather the storm with you.”

“My poor, beautiful, Lancelot.” You grinned and reached up to touch his face.

A touch to his cheek, your thumb tracing his tear-like mark beneath his eye, it was all the incentive he needed to close the little distance there was between you. Your back met the wall, his hand cupped the side of your neck, his forehead and nose brushed against your own.

His breathing deepened, calmed by the close proximity. He cupped your face in his hand, thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip. “You are maddening, toying with my mind…”

You grinned against his thumb. “Would you prefer I feed you honeyed words all the time?”

“No.” He leaned in to brush his lips to your cheek, then lower to your neck. “You are my perfect distraction.”

A distraction he so truly sought to take his mind off of the situation just moments ago. You all but melted into his hold, he moved slow and patient, nipping at your skin. He put his lips to your cheek again, stronger this time, lingering to communicate the emotion behind it.

“I love you.” he whispered with fervor. “I should say it more often, lest it be unclear.”

It was not just a reminder, that you knew, it was him trying not to have regret in the future if something were to happen to one of you.

You pushed him back just a little to glance into those striking eyes. “And I love you. Very much.”

He stole the words from your lips with his own, his form trapping you between him and the wall. A guttural sound came from him, causing your body to shudder.

    ~“That is disgusting.”~

    The blunt statement sounded through the hallway. You broke away from each other, as if it were a crime you had committed. There stood Percival, looking like he had taken a sniff of some rotten fruit.

Another blunt statement came from the boy, “His spit is in your mouth.”

He was saying it like he thought you were not aware of it. And you were so taken aback by it that you felt a pinch of embarrassment. Lancelot reacted far less bothered by it.

“Yes. It is.” He moved not an inch when you smacked his chest to scold him for it. His eyes were set on the boy. “Why are you not in your room at this time?”

Percival swayed on his feet a little in a nervous manner. “Uhm… There’s rain dripping into my room.”

He walked towards the boy. “Then I should inspect it.”

“Can’t I just stay in your room?” the boy quickly asked.

Oh, to you it was clear that the boy did not like the storm either, but Lancelot seemed oblivious. You followed them as they headed to the rain infested room.

At first glance the floor and bed was dry, Lancelot still searched the room for any leaks that could cause the boy discomfort. Percival sheepishly watched on, too proud to admit it had been a white lie to not have to be alone amid the loud storm.

He turned to look at Percival. “Where did you see it rain inside?”

The boy pointed at a random spot in the corner near the foot of the bed, causing the Ash Man to search for it. Poor Percival, he looked more uncomfortable and guilty by the second.

You walked over to Lancelot, taking hold of his elbow to get his attention and whisper the truth of the situation into his ear. Realization set into his eyes and he looked to Percival again.

He feigned a sigh. “It is best you sleep in our room tonight, it is late and I can search for the cause of the leaking tomorrow.”

Percival was quick to nod in approval and filled his arms with his bed linen to take along. For a moment, a flicker in time, he looked like a true child again and not like a young boy forced to grow up to survive a war around him. He needed no directions to find the room you now shared with Lancelot. Lancelot glanced at you, smiling at the sight of the happy child that needed not invitation to crawl into your bed. Lancelot carefully folded the blanket he had taken from the crib and put it down on top of the dresser. A silent look shared between you and Lancelot was all that was needed to know how this would go. The bed was big enough for all three, Percival in the midst and safe from the storm under the sheets.

With a sleeping child between you, you caught Lancelot looking at you and the boy with a content smile. Percival would always have someone watching over him, someone that would put down his own life to protect him. And deep down, the Ash Man must have known that the ones sleeping at his side would do the same for him.

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[caffeinatedattorney]

i was personally robbed. What do you mean Harvey wears glasses in this???

[taxinealkaloids]

horrible children who are. so so mean to each other

[moongothic]

Madoka is the promise you won't turn from a child, full of hopes and dreams and the wish to save the world, into a bitter adult who just wants to hurt others and ruin people's lives

Madoka promised to be there for you to remind you of the person you wanted to be and to stop you from becoming what you sought to destroy

Madoka made that promise and became the very embodiment of it

[ketzel]

i literally just got into this an hour ago

[lord-squiggletits]

I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.

I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.

The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...

Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.

I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.

And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?

It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.

To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.

In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.

Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.

So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.

What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.

Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?

[starry-bi-sky]

realizing i have. a lot of untapped trauma potential for clone^2 danny because i just Fully Processed Four Months Late the fact that his parents were capturing and torturing ghosts in the basement before he became Phantom. and the fact that he was on house rest for 2 weeks. during that time period. and he wasn't really leaving the house. he could hear their screaming through the floorboards

*points at clone danny* i can give you suuuuuuch a bad time babe ahaha. i've got two untouched years before you meet damian what fucks you up before then