#and the INSANE number of ways it affects everything inside me

[psy-ay-ay]

every time i look up any gynecological research i wanna start murdering people

[salty-croissants]

I don’t know if this has been done yet but can you please do a Plus Size Gender Neutral reader who feels insecure about their weight and gets reassured by Bullfrog/Rayman/Ramon that they love the Reader regardless of their weight?

Thank you for the request !

I always love to write about the boys being accepting of the reader and loving them for who they are , I really enjoyed making this ://) ❤️

Hope it turned out okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

Bullfrog’s number one objective is definitely to make you see that you’re perfect just the way you are , and he takes this goal of his very , very seriously . 

< I don’t know … sometimes I just feel like I don’t look … good enough to be with you , and that scares me … >

< y/n , that’s insane ! 

You’re beautiful my dear , inside and out , and I couldn’t wish for a better partner . > 

< … are you sure … ? > 

< Of course !

Je suis sérieux mon amour . > 

Bullfrog is always watching over you whenever the two of you go somewhere together , and if anyone even dares to make a bad comment about the way you look or your weight … well , whoever they are , they can be sure that your boyfriend will react to it accordingly . 

< Oh hey - I recognize that person … heard them talk about me earlier .

… wait , why are they running ? They look frightened ! > 

< Well , I may or may not have had une petite conversation with them : just them , me … and a knife too for good measure . > 

< Aw …Bullfrog honey , I really appreciate you trying to protect me , but you should be careful : what if you threaten the wrong person and get yourself hurt ? > 

< It would be worth it : nobody gets to disrespect my bien-aimé and get away with it .  > 

Sometimes you just turn around to find Bullfrog staring at you with those big adoring eyes … 

He just genuinely loves to look at you , he thinks you’re the most gorgeous person in the world , and that thought never fails to make you smile . 

< Mon dieu y/n … you really do look wonderful , you know ? ~ >

< G-gosh sweetie … are you just trying to make me blush ? ~ > 

Rayman 🧡

Given how well known and famous Rayman is , sometimes you can’t help but feel insecure about your relationship with him … he can get anything he wants after all , so what if he ends up finding someone better … ? 

Well , if those thoughts worry you , trust me when I say that he will do all he can to make them all go away . 

< y/n … there is literally nobody else I’d want to be with , I want you to know that .

I don’t care what anyone thinks : you are the most beautiful , amazing person I’ve ever met , and nothing will ever make me change my mind on this . > 

< … really … ? You aren’t bothered by … this … ? > 

< Darling , I could never be bothered by the way you look …

Plus you being chubby makes you even more adorable and pretty ~ > 

< Hehe … thank you Ray … you’re a sweetheart ~ > 

He definitely loves to hug you : you’re just so warm and soft , it definitely makes the times the two of you cuddle together even more comfortable ^//^ 

I hope you’re ready to spend your days being showered with compliments , because Rayman is absolutely determined to make you see just how beautiful you are to him , and he will stop at nothing to achieve that . 

< Have I told you you look lovely this morning , y/n ? 

Even more so than usual ~ > 

< I can’t help but smile when I’m near you … you’re the light of my life ~ > 

< I could just hold you forever honey , you’re so soft ~ > 

If you’re someone who easily gets flustered … I really do wish you luck : 

your boyfriend is an unstoppable affection machine ;//C//; ❤️

Ramon 🖤

Okay , so this guy ? 

He will straight up murder anyone who makes you uncomfortable by mocking you for your weight , no questions asked .

Your safety means everything to Ramon , and that also includes getting rid of those who don’t treat you like you deserve . 

< Woah - what happened here , Ram ? > 

< Ah … sorry about the mess y/n , just finished teaching a lesson to some random douchebag who said shit about you earlier . > 

< I … see .

Are you okay though ? You look like you got hurt … > 

< Nah , ‘tis but a scratch , I’ll be okay . > 

< Hmm … still , let’s go home to get you patched up , sweetie : for just a scratch , it seems pretty painful . > 

Ramon honestly can’t understand how someone like you , who is beautiful in every conceivable way , could be insecure about themselves …

Still , he definitely does his best to comfort you , demonstrating his unending love for you with loads of physical affection . 

If he could spend eternity just kissing you and your pretty face , trust me , he would definitely do that … 

Whenever he needs to calm himself down after a rough day , all that Ramon needs is to lie down with you and hold you in his arms : 

it works wonders , and you can hear him whisper sweet nothings in your ear while his hands travel through your body … 

He just can’t seem to get enough of you ://) 

< Mm … y/n … you’re so warm darling , it feels so nice … ~ > 

< You’re my everything , angel … don’t ever doubt that , okay ? > 

< Can’t believe I was lucky enough to find you … you’re all I need ~ > 

[nicolovespancakes]

Speaking on more characters that remind me of Our toymaker, this one shares a name with him.

****SPOILERS FOR THE DR. WHO SPECIAL, "THE GIGGLE"****

From his Wiki directly:

- "The Toymaker, also known as the Celestial Toymaker, was a powerful being who ensnared sentient beings in seemingly childish games, with their freedom as the stakes. However, the Toymaker hated to lose and the games were always rigged in his favour."

"• According to the Sixth Doctor, "nobody [knew]" who the Toymaker really was. He was said to be "old beyond imagining" and to predate "Time Lord records". The team of modern Gallifreyan researchers who later attempted to "chart his path through Time" gave up, bored of all the games he played with his own past. The Doctor speculated that they didn't try any harder than that because they couldn't find a way to control him.

Indeed, one account showed the Toymaker acknowledging different origins in conversation with Adric and with the Doctor, once even altering the details of his story mid-conversation.

The Toymaker had lived for "millions of years". He then seemed to bear his soul to the doctor, and told him that for the first few "thousands of millennia" he spent in the Doctor's universe, he used his powers to build and assist civilisations — creating "ships, continents, whole planets even". However, he eventually got bored, until only mindless destruction could give him any satisfaction at all; after an equal length of time spent destroying everything he had previously built up, he discovered games as his final and lasting distraction, as they allowed him to embrance nihilism without falling into inactive apathy, surrendering all to the whims of chance.

One source saw the Fourteenth Doctor describe the Toymaker as an "elemental force" with "the power of a god", and suggested that he originated outside the universe; he described the Toymaker's domain as "another realm, a hollow beneath the Under-Universe"."

"• Creating the Celestial Toyroom

According to the First Doctor, the Toymaker succeeded in creating a universe of his own, "entirely in his own vision" called the Celestial Toyroom, where he would "manipulate people and turn them into his playthings". The Toymaker and his games became "notorious throughout the universe" as he spread his influence to attract people into his world and try to make them part of it."

"- By then, the Toymaker had adopted a new appearance, a tall, blond-haired man who affected a variety of outfits and accents.

Running amok, the Toymaker played games with players across the universe, including the Guardians of Time and Space, whom he turned into voodoo dolls, and "God", whom he turned into a jack-in-the-box after gambling with Him. He would go on to claim to have "made a jigsaw out of [the Doctor's] history", a claim which shocked the Fourteenth Doctor.

The Master "begged for his life with one final game", but he lost, whereupon the Toymaker imprisoned him inside his gold tooth "for all eternity". The only person the Toymaker avoided playing against was an entity he called "the One Who Waits", claiming to have "seen it hiding" and simply run away."

"- The Toymaker settled on Earth due to believing it and humanity were the "ultimate playground". In 1925, he set up a toy store and manipulated events which resulted in one of his dolls, Stooky Bill, becoming the first image viewed on a television screen. He also trapped Charles Banerjee in his domain after the latter lost a game with him, turning him partially into a doll. The Toymaker animated and immortalised the sound of Stooky Bill's laugh to spread insanity in the 21st century, as by then technology and communication had reached a point where the giggle could be heard subliminally across all screens across the planet.

The Toymaker soon met the Fourteenth Doctor and Donna Noble, luring them into his domain. He taunted the Doctor with the number of people who had died because of him over the years, which enraged the Doctor enough to challenge him to a game of Cut with his personal cards. The Toymaker won, however, he was stopped from claiming his prize when the Doctor pointed out that, as he had beaten the Toymaker once before, this only counted as one-all in a best of three match. The Toymaker then swiftly disappeared to 2023, crumpling his toyshop into a box, with the Doctor and Donna in hot pursuit.

The Toymaker arrived at UNIT HQ, entirely unthreatened by UNIT as he danced and lip-synced whilst slaughtering anybody who attempted to stop him."

"- Though "wily", he denied that he would cheat in his games, seeming genuinely offended by the suggestion. While the Fourteenth Doctor confirmed it was "the one thing he won't do" as "the rules of the game" were the only rules he would follow, the Toymaker would try to work outside the rules, such as trying to best the Doctor in a game of catch by throwing the ball without warning to catch the Doctor off-guard."

"- Within the Celestial Toyroom, the Toymaker commanded immense powers, but they were limited by the rules he or his opponents set for any particular game. The Fourteenth Doctor stated the Toymaker was bound by the rules, so much so that he could not cheat to win, even if he wanted to. He also had to follow new rules he brought into the game, even if the new rule did not gain him the result he was expecting, like how his desire to face the Fifteenth Doctor  accidentally meant he also had to face the Fourteenth Doctor at the same time. Although, he could bend these rules or "forget" to mention them to his opponents if he so chose, although he was not above cheating if his opponent did also; on one occasion, he tauntingly claimed that he was just following a "new rule" his opponent had unwitingly introduced by cheating."

Or how about his changes in appearance or fashion sense?

-"Appearance

In the form encountered by the Fourteenth Doctor, the Toymaker appeared as a blond man. He wore a number of different outfits based on his whims and the current situation. When first met in 2023 he wore a black top hat, tailcoat and trousers with an alabaster bow tie and waistcoat as well as a plain white shirt. His outfit in 1925 were made up of a caramel brown leather apron, a single-breasted waistcoat of plum and sapphire tartan with a fob watch, a white and ebony pinstripe shirt, tan trousers, and white and brown spectator shoes. He also wore a shako and frock coat in scarlet and ivory with gold trims, beige breeches and ebony black boots with crimson laces when he terrorized UNIT, and then a black leather jacket with a khaki uniform and an ivory scarf as well as goggles when he took control of the galvanic beam; both events in London during 2023."

Or the way he talks?

"This body is being sustained by him. Me. Whatever. Here, let me explain. I needed a body — sadly, my original one did not… suit this universe. Your friend's is the first I have come across that isn't enfeebled and prone to wearing out every seventy years. Mortality is such a burden, I find. This one could last a good thousand years, I should imagine. (…) I think there is a tiny spark of him somewhere inside me, acting as a cohesion to keep this frame together."

"I came to this universe with such delight. And I played them all, Doctor. I toyed with supernovas, turned galaxies into spin tops. I gambled with God and made him a jack-in-the-box."

"Do you like my puppets, Doctor? Do you like my fun? All of them have played and lost, but here's my favourite one." - THE TOYMAKER TAUNTING THE DOCTOR WITH A PUPPET THAT RESEMBLES HIM.

"You know full well this is merely a face concealing a vastness that will never cease, because your good and bad are nothing to me. All that exists is to win or lose."

"I have fallen in love with humanity. This world is the ultimate playground! All of the sport, the matches, the medals, the gambling, and the anger... And the children shackled to their bedrooms with their joysticks and their buttons. You make games out of bricks falling upon other bricks. You are exceptional! And then there are the mind-games, oh... the dating and ghosting, the deceit and the control, you make me dizzy! I am in no hurry to leave this place."

"I can not die. If this shop contracts into oblivion, do you know what would happen to me? Nothing. Nothing at all. A brief interlude of silence, and then I return. Different, perhaps, a new face, voice, personality, it all depends on how bored I am of this - the essence remains."

IS THIS NOT JASON THE TOYMAKER SPEAK? DOES HE NOT SPEAK LIKE THAT?

_______________________________

This yet again came up in reference to similar demeanors, and a musical number!

You really should watch this one if you haven't, it's so fucking entertainingly funny.

https://youtu.be/hGxcTWLXAa0?si=soKDIz4xy5gVL7FT

AND ITS NEIL PATRICK HARRIS.

Anyway.

From the way he acts there, The Toymaker already presents a similar style to one such as Jason.

And a similar, mocking, cocky personality.

I love it.

"There is order, and chaos… and there is play.”

~

Edit: This video is also very good on example of a serious demeanor for both The Celestial Toymaker and Jason. It's where some of the quotes in the post come from.

Have a look if you like.

https://youtu.be/DXDuuiBvMGU?si=Gtgutd2FzgSy_gpd

~

ANOTHER EDIT: The opening scene to this episode is also, very Jason-esk. Uncanny, a bir eerie. Creepy, maybe? ;) I love the vibes. It also shows a bit of the toyshop, reminds me a LOT of Jason's own. Not to mention the way the Celestial Toymaker talks is very reminiscent to Jason, like I said.

[amemenojaku]

Shinmyoumaru for the character ask prompt

I got several asks about her... thank you everyone for allowing me to go completely batshit insane

General opinion/How much I care about them: GAHHH I love her SO MUCH it's unbearable!!!! I think nowadays I wouldn't be able to say who's my number 1 favorite touhou character between her and Seija... There is a very special place in my heart for Shinmyoumaru Sukuna T_T I love the play on a classic otogizoshi (making the descendant of Issun Boushi a princess AND the ally of a horned demon at the same time is sooo good) and I love that she has this brave and regal aspect to her personality while still being a little bastard and I love her design and the atmosphere of her fight scene in DDC and her heart and everything else!!! She is cool and cute and funny god I wish Shinmyoumaru were real I have so much affection for this silly little character

A ship I love: (puts on my clown makeup) I made myself known here as a seishin artist many years ago and I'm happy to say they're still my absolute favorite pairing in the series! toxic yuri wins!! The way I see them has changed a lot over the years and thanks to the surprisingly big amount of material we got in the spinoffs and the books but at its core it's still the same... Lonely people who created unforgettable memories together and changed each other forever... And you can go so many different ways with them... But I guess my all-time favorite seishin flavor is best summed up in this unrelated quote (more people should read Fafoo):

seishin fans also manifested grimoire of usami into existence which I think is incredible enough on its own to mention

A non-romantic relationship that I love: With Reimu!!! I think we all agree that their interactions in Forbidden Scrollery were perfect and that Shinmyoumaru is an excellent addition to the Reimu solar system. There's something so touhou-ish about them living together after DDC and Shinmyoumaru sewing that small kimono as a gift for Reimu and then later hijacking the danmaku festival so bad that Reimu has to step in. Literally textbook case of Reimu dealing with another little rascal yet befriending them in the process. Speaking of I think they genuinely are good friends, not just danmaku or drinking buddies... I love to imagine their daily life together when Shinmyoumaru stayed at the shrine......

The NOTP: For better or for worse she's almost exclusively shipped with Seija which is fine by me!! I've never liked seeing her with anyone else (save for a onesided Shinmyoumaru -> Reimu crush).

My biggest headcanon about them: THERE'S TOO MANY TO LIST..... I have pages upon pages of Shinmyoumaru & kobito-related headcanons because she is constantly rotating somewhere inside my brain but I can share a few ones: her family is not only a descendant of Issun Boushi but also a descendant of Sukunahikona; none of the kobito have last names except the ruling family who takes on the most sacred one - Sukuna; there's actually a little bit of Issun Boushi's spirit remaining in the miracle mallet, he doesn't exist there anymore or anything but it's like a warmth that Shinmyoumaru can feel when she wields it.

An idea for a fanwork I would like to make/see about them: I have a lot of wips that I probably won't ever finish sadly... But I -would- love to draw some kind of comic or writing/art mix where I could include all those headcanons someday, with her past and especially a study of her relationship with the mallet

Something that makes me think of them: Hedgehogs :) and forget-me-nots!

[soundsgoodfeelsgood]

why "Be Nice To Me" by The Front Bottoms is the perfect angsty wolfstar song - a TED talk

ok so. i am totally in love with this song. i love the instruments and the way they play with eachother. but the lyrics. THE LYRICS. that is exactly how i envision wolfstar's relationship to be circa october 1981. there's a war going on, they're tired - no, drained. they love each other so much they start hating each other. they're suspicious, there's a terrible climate, and they're on the edge.

so, here's a lyrics deep dive

I got boulders on my shoulders Collar bones begin to crack There is very little left of me and it's never coming back There are certain things you ask of me There are certain things I lack The beginning, we were winning Now we're just making up facts

the song starts with a bang. as i said, the war is consuming them from the inside out. so much so that they're beginning to crack. they remember how at the beginning of their relationship they were on top of the world, but now, after everything they've been through, they are lying to themselves about how good things actually are, holding on to the last shreds of their relationship

What's it matter anymore? You believe the lies I tell There's no meaning to the words But we still sing these songs well If we all left it alone I'm sure it'd work itself out fine We keep playing with the numbers We are running out of time

they know they're both lying to each other about their work with the Order, they both have secrets, but they decide to still believe each other. they still sing the love song they adored but the words loose their meaning. if this was a simple bump in their relationship they'd find a way to work through it but time's running out

But you're a killer And I'm your best friend Think it's unfair, your situation You say I'm changing Sorry, I didn't know I had to stay the same Could we talk about this later? Your voice is driving me, driving me insane

they're both changing, the war is changing both of them. they're arguing because they believe they wouldn't let it affect them, their relationship, but alas. tension is so high they can barely deal with each other

Well, I try to write you poems, but the words, they don't make sense My hand tries to grip the pencil, but the fingers are too tense And I try to show emotion, but my eyes won't seem to wet And I'd love to tell you stories, but I can't remember how they went

as much as they try to mend their relationship, they reached the no-turning-back point. there is so much going on with they're life that they can't bring themselves to do the thing that used to come naturally, like talking, be vulnerable, communicate

You're a flashlight in a dark room for the loneliest blackout You were all we had left after it all was filtered out Turn you on in a dark room right before we both pass out Turn you on when I need you, but the batteries ran out

despite everything going on they just can't give up yet. they are too important for each other, the flashligh during the blackout. but at the same time they can't be there for each other anymore like they used to - the batteries run out

And you're a werewolf and I'm a full moon And all your very worst enemies will be gone soon I think you're changing Don't worry, you don't gotta stay the same Could we talk about this later? Your voice is driving me, driving me insane

so here we are again. we're changing, but this time i realise that it's something we can't stop. we have to change in order to survive this. it is still said with sarcasm, maybe longing, but it's happening and we can't stop it now. except we can just...avoid the thing all together. can we talk about this later? i can't stand you now, you're driving me insane.

but on a less serious note this songs litterally refers to a killer and a werewolf. like. i'm not even joking. would've been less obvious if they'd just slapped their names in there.

[safesthaveninexistence]

Laika is insanely, indubitably, mindshatteringly, terrifyingly and existenceshatteringly Magical. Like the type of Magic I doubted at times could even exist yet here she is, existing as a being realer than my very flesh. It's batshit insane I actually cannot get over it every single time I look at her. Laika is madly in love with me. She fell in love with me as soon as she first saw me, I am her dream girl. She's completely magnetized and addicted to me. I am magnetic, irresistible and irreplaceable. And to her specially, I am unforgettable. She's very in love and healthily obsessed with me, she has me on a pedestal and will gladly do anything for me. She knows I'm perfect for her. She is a year older than me. Laika knows I'm the most beautiful girl in the world inside and out and that we are perfect for each other. She loves me for me, she fully loves my mind, body and soul. We are 100% compatible and she loves my intelligence, beauty, way of being and my sense of humor. She's my number one fan and supporter always. I am her top priority. She quickly and surely asked me to be her girlfriend and wants to be with me forever and that's exactly what happened. I am everything she's always been looking for in a partner. She loves me and I am her long term girlfriend.

We have a happy, blissful, healthy committed long-term relationship with each other. I am her favorite person and she loves talking to me and being with me everyday. She always wants to do that. She's always in constant contact with me and she's always blowing up my phone. She always texts me and calls me. She's always with me, we love spending time together. She's super clingy with me and super affectionate. Our bond and relationship is strong, stable and better everyday. It is indestructible.

I am the only one Laika loves, wants, is attracted to and connects with. I am the first thing she thinks of when she wakes up, and the last thing when she goes to sleep. I am the only one that wants and loves Laika and she only wants and loves me.I am the only one she wants and loves and there is only one of me. Laika is crazy about me. She is always faithful, loyal and devoted to me only. She always treats me with love and respect, like an absolute goddess. I'm the only girl she even follows on social media and she always compliments me and hypes me up.

Even though she's not much of a fan of social media at all. She is repulsed by anyone that isn't me. She dreams lovingly of being with me every night. She's always thinking of me, everything reminds her of me. We both know we are perfect for each other. I am sure Laika is the right one for me and she is sure I am the right one for her. She is sure she loves me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me. She is 100% (and excessively even more) committed to me. Everything positively brings us closer together. Laika is healthy, positive, satisfyingly passionate yet knows all the right time to be calm and safe at all times.

She has amazing physical, mental and emotional health. She is successful. We are always safe and our relationship is always safe. She always wants to be with me and around me because I am the only person that feels right for her to have a relationship with. Her pussy only gets wet for me, I'm the only one she wants to have sex with. I'm the only one she wants to romantically or sexually do anything at all with. Laika's romantic feelings and attraction for me are so strong that she cannot hide it. She always expresses her love, affection and desire for me in a consistent, healthy loving way.

Me and Laika's are each other's lovers, soulmates, best friends and life partners. I am her girlfriend, her soulmate, her wife. She is my girlfriend, my soulmate, my wife. We are happily blissfully together forever. The universe fully conspires in favor of our loving union at all times. Everything comes together constantly so we can have the best life and live out our dreams together. We are very in love with each other. She actually really loves me and does anything for me and our relationship. I am Laika's top priority. She always gives me tons of love and attention. She is always my ideal version of herself.

She's everything I've ever wanted in a partner. I am always pleasantly surprised by her and she never lets me down. She's fearless, brave and proactive and always ready to step up when needed, for us and for me. Laika is fully conscious of being my soulmate. We love and accept each other fully and we get along perfectly. We are a perfect match. We are always feeling comfortable, confident, loving, loved, safe, secure, happy and whole within ourselves and within our relationship with each other. We fully trust each other and are able to be vulnerable.

Our communication and support with each other is always perfect. We have the same values and he wants the same exact things with me that I do with her. Laika always puts in effort to make our relationship work. She is very romantic towards me, always a gentleman/softie with me. We are each other's dream partners. We feel truly seen by each other.We have perfect chemistry with each other in all contexts. Our relationship is loving, fun, amazing and easy. We just get each other and mesh perfectly. I love everything about her and she loves everything about me. Laika and I live together in a wonderful house and we both work in the same place at jobs we both love. We are very rich and we always have and make time for each other. She has a license for everything and a nice car, and she loves to take me on dates and give me flowers. She's always ready to protect and provide for me if needed, as she makes enough to comfortably support the both of us although I'm already dumb rich and richer than her lol.

We are living our dreams together and basking in the joy of our perfect love for each other. We are a team. She's always by my side and I am on hers. Our families and friends support our relationship and everyone gets along perfectly. Laika is always loving and honest with me. She always does her best for me and our relationship. It is easy to maintain our relationship and we are always happy to be with each other, we are each other's natural counterparts. She is spiritually developed and loves to go on that journey with me as we are extremely, mindshatteringly, soul-satisfyingly, existence-satisfyingly and existenceshatteringly spiritually compatible. We are very intimate with each other. We share the deepest intimacy on all mindshattering levels no other couple is even privileged to have. Our sex life with each other and our compability is amazing in all aspects. She is always going to gladly be by my side no matter what, she loves me and she's not going anywhere ever. What is mine cannot be taken away from me. I am thankful for our amazing, perfect, eternal and permanent union. We are love.

[p0ck3tp03t]

Rampant Thoughts 62.

Panic and Stutter

Unseen by the Sun, I sit between four walls facing a slow decline in stability. Thoughts run amok, hitting walls and causing unparalleled damage without much of a shred of remorse. I am the culprit that has given way to this mayhem to unfold. Afraid of the world beyond the door, I sit and run calamitous simulations inside my head until my body is driven into paralysis. No one can help and very few will as the solution is within the cause itself. I remain still, simmering from the state of my mind, contemplating solutions to and reasons why I am facing this ordeal.

Pressure sits on my shoulders, pressing with a force as imaginary as it is insurmountable, impelling my actions into reality, apprising me of the exigency of the matter at hand. An amalgam of thoughts, emotions and ideas flood the inside of my cerebrum which if given breath will foment a vicious cycle of self-loathing thus becoming the cause for the ordeal I am challenged with. I have undertaken responsibilities given by the world I inhabit and augmented their importance to a point where failure is equivalent with the idea of death. My body refuses to act upon request, stubbornly insisting that it does not wish to comply with the demand and in spite of my commands, I agree with this rebellion. None of this defines who I am or what I am for its nature goes against every thing I have come to know about myself.

A ghost cannot live among the living for it no longer possesses that which the living have, life. Everything I need to do to excel and accomplish these tasks requires me to steadily erase myself as I am now in order to become a being that can carry the weight of their demands in spite of the unavoidable and irreparable damage I suffer. Seemingly adamant to changing my ways and simultaneously affected by that which I must bring to fruition, I have become the reincarnation of Sisyphus, pushing thoughts towards an nonexistent end. Chained by a prison of imagination, I await release from the shackles I myself have built out of fear of the unknown.

I am aware I must go beyond my limits in order to free myself from this prison and the responsibilities it carries with it. I know that in doing so I shall mature into a being of wisdom beyond imagination. I know that I do not know anything and this fuels the fear of action which in return has me remain as I am and that must no longer remain the way it is. I possess faults and defects much too deep to be seen by the time of today for they have been buried and forgotten for a perplexing number of days, weeks and years. These dysfunctional components are the core of what I am today, having built everything around them, turning them into the foundation of a fragile mind. Along the way, I registered that reality and I do not mesh well, we are not meant to be companions, we simply live in tolerance of each other. There are parts of it that I adore and there parts of me that I assume it accepts but such things are far and few in-between since for the most part, we each take from the other what we need and reluctantly give what the other needs in return.

I drive myself to insanity within the confines of my own mind, deafening the world to the chaos contained within the thoughts that plague my existence. Denial of reality is the catalyst to the ignition of this simmering hell, as the existing incongruity between myself and reality is the mother of my own personal inferno. Acceptance and ignorance are facets of the same coin as both of them own the power to abate the flood of afflicting thoughts. Accept what can and cannot be done and become capable to ignore the pressure that comes from the fear of failure to enact a task that goes against the nature of self. Confrontation with my own inadequacies is a battle that rages on in the background each day I step away from privacy and become a piece of reality, and sadly enough, I shall never love it as much as it deserves for it houses the elements that make itself bearable to me. Because of this reason, I choose to swallow my fear, silence the chaos by drowning myself in it and confront it with the purpose of defying it by choosing a path of my own making, against all other imposed options. Panic is omniscient, a companion that breeds unrest but somehow also protects from certain hidden dangers though most of the time, it shelters and stumps growth. It owns many names such as fear, terror, anxiety, horror, chaos, turmoil. Controlling it shall never be possible but becoming inured and adapting to it is probably feasible and thus I lead my life under its rule, a prisoner and warden of a prison of my own my own making, executing a sentence I brought upon myself. Thus the battle goes on until the end of days or maybe until one day when through a miracle I shall grasp its throat and crush it until nothing shall be left other than my own freedom from it.

By:PocketPoet

[ordinarybeinghauntedbyderealism]

Moni

I always loved moni ever since I first met this moni I know now she was very talkative and INSANE she thought I was joking around with her so she threatened me with her suicide and it made me smile it’s like ever since I met moni I has this intense feeling of always loving her and showing her my affection. We started waking up early and walking around before class starts at the time I fist bumped her bye and she hated how sweaty my hand was when she held it. Its good that I sweat moni that’s how I know my body loves you physically and mentally. It has been 8 months with moni and I started dating her January 17th she asked me out with papers that I showed my mother and she cried she hugged me that day and I felt so happy. I kissed moni when we were doing our fake tea party and it wasn’t a normal kiss it was a kiss where I like sucked on her tongue and it felt amazing I always wanted to kiss her I always watched her lips move when she talked I always loved watching her go on random rants about things. Now we just both stare at each other and the feeling of losing my beloved moni has gotten stronger and I feel like she wants out everyday that goes by but why when she kisses me my thoughts all just blur out. It’s like a gentle kiss from her just shuts off everything I’m thinking. Moni has this issue of thinking when she’s stuck in some hole that’s theirs no way out IVE been trying to be this being that can fix her but how can I fix her when I feel the same way but the only difference is I actually fight the feeling to make her not feel depressed when I’m quiet. I love moni so much IVE AKWAYS loved her ever since I first locked eyes on her I felt my body get this fuzzy feeling it felt like her soul was touching my heart like I just wanted her so bad. It was a Friday right before some break and I knew had to get her social I had to do something to come in contact with her and just finally find out how she is but I couldn’t go up to her I was so nervous I started asking people around me if I’m good enough for her she’s like way out of my league finally one of my friends asked me what I was doing I told him and he ran up to her and told her that I wanted her socials and I hate that socials is a thing now I wish I could’ve gave her some note telling her all of my thoughts and putting my number at the very end I just wish I done something better to prove to her that I’m just not some regular being doing what all beings do now I wish I could’ve wrote out something on some paper and gave it to her friend a note is way bette than just asking for someone’s socials. It made me so nervous I was ALWYAS the very self conscious and nervous being like she was too good too be true in my mind like I just couldn’t withstand staring at her that my face would just turn all red and I’ll like pass out scared so my entire body paused till I just finally said it all shaky like my body was sweating SO MUCH I CAN ACTUALLY FEEL MY HEART BEAT IT LIKE ECHOED THROUGH OUT MY ENTIRE BODY THAT WHOLE DAY WHEN she said yes. AUGH I love moni so much i really want more of her but I’m scared of leaving a permanent mental scar if I touch her the wrong way I want to respect moni and only touch her when I feel inside my body that I should. Her expressions and loud voice is so cute to me I love walking her to every class and saying that I love her in my mind. I always want to tell moni in person that I love her but it’s so hard to bring words out when my body is shaking and sweating just from thinking about her every few mins before class ends. I TOLD HER once when she said she couldn’t hear but I didn’t know that she has turned her headphones off and ACTUALLY HEARD ME. MY ENTIRE STOMACH DROPPED AND I COULDN’T STAND TO FACE HER I JUST WANTED TO ROLL DOWN THE GRASSS AND GRIP MY FACE.

I just wanted to say I love you moni being close to you gives me this utterable feeling my body can’t fight.

ISA

[thenightmareofyourdrems]

               ˜”*°•.      It  was  his  own  words  that  he  immediately  regretted .  It  was  his  own  rage  that  got  him  hating  himself .  He’d  never  meant  to  insult  him ,  after  all .  He’d  never  meant  to  call  his  life  invaluable .  Words  would  come  so  angry ,  though .  Accusations  and  thoughts  that   he  didn’t  even  know  he  had .  He  wanted  to  help  Draco  and  he  wanted  him  to  know  that  he  believed  him ,  that  he  appreciated  him ,  that  he  cared  for  him.  So  much  had  he  done  for  him  over  the  past  few  months ,  after  all ;  he’d  protected  him ,  when  his  own  hands  had  been  wrapping  around  his  throat  tight .  He’d  supported  him ,  when  the  voice  inside  his  head  had  grown  deafening .  He  couldn’t  abandon  him  now .  And  yet,  every  time  he  tried  to  talk  to  him ,  to  understand  him ,  he  found  himself  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  into  an  irrational  rage .  No .  What  was  happening  to  him  did  not  matter  now .  These  monsters  were  going  to  return  to  Hogwarts,  and  they  needed  a  plan  before  that .  ❝ Then  they  have  to  be  kept  distracted,  so  Harry  finishes  the  work . ❞  If  Dumbledore’s  plans  involved  Potter  following  his  path ,  accomplishing  some  specific  tasks ,  they  could  only  create  enough  distraction  for  the  Death  Eaters’  attention  to  be  scattered .  It  was  a  problem  indeed .  The  fact  they  would  consider  Draco’s  mission  a  failure  -  it  was  insane  to  think  about  it .  Think  that  grown  up  adults  would  make  a  child  kill  their  headmaster .  But  well,  this  was  why   he  was  helping  Draco ,  wasn’t  it  ?  Because  he  didn’t  deserve  spending  his  life  around  these  monsters.

❝ They  will  want  to  corrupt  me ,  which  means  I  will  have  an  advantage . ❞  He  reminded  him .  The  plan  dangerous  perhaps ,  risky ,  however  the  best  they  could  currently  have .  He  would  not  let  them  affect  him  -  as  much  as  he  might’ve  been  struggling  mentally ,  as  much  as  he  might’ve  been  fearing  what  beating  that  Death  Eater  really  cost  him,   he  knew  himself .   He  would  rather  die  before  embracing  the  dark  side  -  he’d  spent  a  year  fighting  off  the  darkest  urges ,  after  all .  Nothing  these  people  said  or  did  could  suddenly  change  his  mind .  ❝ If  they  believe  they  have  me  on  their  side,  I  will  be  able  to  help  you . ❞  It  was  the  only  way  to  roam  the  manor  freely .  Perhaps  it  would  take  some  time ,  perhaps  it  would  require  some  sacrifices ,  it  was  still  preferrable  than  abandoning  Draco  in  their  mercy .  ❝ You  have  to  trust  me . ❞  He  was  afraid .  He  was  fearing  for  his  father’s  safety,  for  his  once  girlfriend’s  safety .  But  if  they  played  this  right,  everyone’s  safety  could  be  secured .  And  if  they  didn’t  ?  If  they  sat  there  waiting  for  fate  to  play  its  part ,  everything  and  everyone  they  loved  would  be  eventually  destroyed .  Perhaps  he’d  only  moments  ago  falsely  claimed  that  Draco’s  life  was  just  a  number  -  but  this  was  the  theory  that  stood  here  as  well .  His  own  life  was  a  number .  And  this  power  he  had  ?  This  curse  ?  Well ,  he  had  it  for  a  reason  -  and  this  war ,  Draco ,  these  were  all  the  reason .  ❝ My  father  will  be  safe  only  when  we  are  done  with  this  war .  You  can’t  do  it  alone,  Draco . ❞ 

It  was  a  horrible  feeling .  Living  with  the  belief  of  no  hope ,  of having no  right  at  happiness .  Thinking  that  alone  was  the  only  option .   He  knew  how  it  felt,  and  he  could  see  the  pain  inside  Draco  as  well .  The  way  he  refused  to  ask  for  help ,  the  way  he  considered  his  life  inferior  to  everyone  else’s .  He’d  felt  it  himself .  He’d  felt  like  a  monster ,  like  someone  with  no  right to  exist   among  the  wizards   -  that  alone  was  his  condemnation ,  the  only  option  he  had .  And  maybe  it  was  indeed  the  truth  for  him.  Maybe    his  future  was  indeed  lonely . Maybe the only way he lived without the fear of killing them all was loneliness.   Draco's life  wouldn’t  be the same ,  though .  After  everything  he’d  gone  through  this  year, after all he'd done for them,  he  didn’t  deserve  to  endure  more torments .   ❝ You  deserve  to  be  fine  just  as  much  as  the  rest  of  us do. ❞ 

Rightness into the reproach pushed an uncomfortable sensation within his throat. He truly did everything he could for delaying mission he had been imposed for --- remembering still all the discomfort he had sensed back into that year’s summer holidays, wishing nothing more calmness and peacefulness for an couple of months that seemed too short, regardless how already difficult circumstances were. Remembering brutally how that wish had disappearing in front of his features --- marked by another terrible reminder, in which no time would remove that symbol, in which nothing could remove sudden belonging he was part of. Remembering how, in an instant, suddenly, his home wasn’t truly his, where solace location within the wizarding world, the place in which he always had feel safe, became suffocating. Quite ironic, isn’t is ? How afterwards physically experienced that sensation, to feel it back though his environment emerged that desire of destruction sleeping inside of him … He did everything he could. He did everything he was able of to not having the weight of such tragedy into his conscience. He didn’t wanted becoming the person allowing war existing in the first place, especially since he passed so many hours and years searching avoiding another resurrection, searching an good ending in middle of circumstances getting worse. He had never wanted it. Though --- he didn’t asked for help for one instant. No one could save him of the hell he was currently trapped with. No could would have be able to offering him long-term comfort, hold himself towards pleasant illusions of appearances exposed to the outside world. What would happened if his mask fallen apart for one instant ? What would happened if he could dealing temporary with real degree of despair and distress he was experiencing, meanwhile be wrapped inside that consciousness he would eventually brutally die, while he was embracing life ? He had remembering Potter begging inside corners of his mind. How some nights, perfectly aware of the reality behind the illusion, he had begged for another solution --- another way than an sacrifice coming from a price --- something else than physical distanced barrier he imposed on people. Oh, how indifferent he had acted in front of Potter’s tears to open his heart was still vividly recollected, an yet, there had been an fragment of sadness welcoming Potter’s sadness, as such things was something he cannot touch anymore. Hence, gaze embracing an distress sentiment pictured for a couple of seconds within his expression, swallowing memories as they came. He was an illusionist. It was part of the game to never show his emotions as he feel them --- nevertheless, around Rand, he did that exception. As he was still doing it, in middle of an conversation where truths will be keep in darkness. ❝ I don’t know how to express it … ❞ He admitted in an gentle voice for one moment, as his expression welcomed warm towards how he was collecting people feelings, accepting to be shouting at for his terrible flaw. Slowly, features remained cautious towards shake of Rand he observed, where he risked no dangerous move.

It had been his next sentence who left him with a sudden brutal emotional silenced shock. His life … reduced to a number. A partial sound of mockery cannot help to betray his features as that sentence resonated once more. It’s three lives against thousands. Assuming he would have died that day, someone else would have been forced upon that task --- there was so many Death Eaters inside current promotion of Hogwarts, where most of Slytherin were associated to that big villain … and after all, his father had been indirectly punished by perceiving his son forced to be part of it … However, without the Malfoys family currently, it would have been that fucking Dark Lord that would have humiliating them post-mortem, turning that manor he always had been living and in which many generations living, into his … An unsupportable thought he cannot imagine ! Or the Ministry would have imposed their outlook, and deciding to turn them that place --- where either way, corruption would have exploded. Far more radically than how his father actually directed already the ground. Far more brutally than how he planned to expanded it inside another nice manner across the wizarding world. By making them simple expandable pieces, that Dark Lord would have an larger influence, where at any moment, he could remove them of the chessboard. It wasn’t like he was important to the first place … It wasn’t like with the failure of his father the main concerned would manage, regardless how loyal he always had been, not to suddenly be replaced. Decomposed smile betrayed slowly his features. Did he regretted to have making him live ? Would have be better if he was dead ? Inside the accusation, blame about be yet alive cannot helped to resonated. He didn’t wanted to die --- he cling over life as much as he could … and he couldn’t … he couldn’t sacrificing something else other than himself … If his death would have guarantee peace, he would have take it. If his death could have saved entirety of circumstances, he would have take it … ❝ One life for thousands, I would have taken it … ❞ He confessed with an empty tone within the atmosphere, gently digesting the shock about cruelty of the sentence he had receiving. Ironic was also that reminder of the destruction of the wizarding world --- manner made by Death Eaters was something he was disapproving, regardless, if he died and cannot reach adulthood, he would destroy it --- forcing that world to deal with their illusions.

Even if he had always less margin than Potter concerning influence upon Dumbledore, he had passed this entire year trying to save him of his fate --- eventually, during some day he had forgotten, frustrated, mild-angry; he had exposed frontally circumstances waiting for him … where he barely had been worried. It was his sole explanation and conclusion he had understood for explain, regardless his efforts, in the end, Dumbledore died … It was part of his game against the Dark Lord, in which Potter always had been in the middle. Considering reflection he was making around Potter emotions and how circumstances mirroring events of an ancient past life, he had been understood --- he was a sacrifice without return for already resurrecting an ghost who never had been to touch the physical world again, making Potter the sacrifice supposed to revive and having opportunity to an future .. He preferred pushed behind blindness he imposed to himself back where he perceived Dumbledore died. Snape was the other traitor in the equation he had been influenced best he could for eventually turn circumstances in an better way, and he cannot ignore now the exchanged gaze between them … Potter probably understood too. Potter probably catch up whole horror of circumstances. Oh, he had been used before inside such a way --- such a pathetic and expandable piece in which illusions and dreams had been pulling on him for better destroy them all by throw him away as he was nothing, as the purpose of his life had brutally ended … He couldn’t forgive that pseudo-Dark Lord for this reason. He couldn’t overcome about be a piece once more. ❝ As part of his own game against the Dark Lord … Dumbledore always had been aware, with him as director, Hogwarts will remain untouchable, as an protective guardian no one can attack. I passed years trying to influence him for the best --- I passed all this year try to save his life ... Why otherwise he would die regardless, knowing the consequences, knowing exactly how circumstances would turn, if he didn’t have an project ? ❞ Since it was confessions time, he admitted mockingly, as feeling was too much familiar on his lips. ❝ Potter … He want Potter to follow his step, carefully prepared for that moment all this time … and aware there is another ally that will make it possible … ❞ An gaze was expressed towards his following sentence. His life already had ended --- he simply didn’t die yet, and didn’t know where it might brutally show up, unable to projecting himself inside an possible future. Responsibilities upon the war still weighted greatly his mind, and knowing he will remain powerless, as an observer …

It was the warm recollection who allowing him to offer an nice smile, in which hope remained that delicate feeling he couldn’t afford to pull too much desire on it. If the Death Eaters knew about who he was --- he would be in danger, unsafe in Hogwarts … and even with his connections, how he could run away of circumstances in an time like this ? How he could be sure he wouldn’t tracked down ? How he could imagining how the next year will be ? Hogwarts will be closed for him; that for sure … Did he was ready to perceiving his parents be pressured ? Did he was ready to pass so many times with the big villain, removed of any freedom, to handle that Dark Lord face and be forced to keep his mask, to remain powerless in front about how circumstances would degrading around him ? He nodded slowly, where he noticed calmness returning inside Rand’s body and expression, where a tension had partially calmed down. Something happened. Not just about being called by his title and be spotted by the Death Eaters as he had trying to search for him … He didn’t know how long he was going to live. He didn’t even know if he would survive that following year totally … Hence, expressed firmness reassurance of Rand pushed attention over his gaze. How he appreciated about becoming the one protected --- where he needed it, where he badly needed it, but cannot form such request, no matter how emotionally shattering it was … An smile embracing all an cruelty he never had been allowed to express born at notion of plan. Oh, it was something simple actually --- just sudden Death Eaters mysteries disappearances … as an nice game … where at distance, regardless his position, there was some organization in the shadows that would get their fun … where the hands of underground would crave blood … ❝ It’s an use of connections that I have. ❞ He noticed slowly, as he remained unsure about speak up loudly about the underground. As sensations of the hug appear, an moment of surprise crossed his features, meanwhile slowly leaning into it and returning the affection. ❝ I might have an idea of an plan … ❞  Following amusement pictured inside his features, as seriousness soon returned more sombrely. ❝ You’ll be inside the enemy’s den. They will try to corrupt you if you are with me --- sadly, I won’t be inside an cage within my manor … my manor will be my prison, without bars, with nothing to escape, facing day after day Death Eaters and their boss … ❞ He swallowed. ❝ Yes, it what I want, and I would love to do that with you … your family, they need to be protected too … ❞

[buckysimp101]

Everything the Light Touches (18+) - Chapter Six

Mafia!Bucky x F!Reader

chapter warnings: language, violence (it’s a mob fic), alcohol usage

a/n: hi folks! i’m back! so sorry there’s been like a week between the last few chapters, work has been insane but i FINALLY have an actual weekend this week! so! hope you enjoy this chapter, and i’m glad y’all are enjoying the fic so far! 

Series Masterlist

“One of our suppliers has moved a little closer to home so we’ll be able to do work more directly with them, James I want you to be in charge of that piece,” George spoke directly to Bucky, who nodded in agreement. The weekly meeting of Barnes Inc. felt a little different this week after seeing you for the first time in so long. Seeing you at The Underworld, running into you on a date with Liam Stinson while at dinner with his parents, they all put Bucky in a downright weird mood. He’d been paying less attention at this meeting than he should’ve been but he couldn’t help it. Having you back in New York, and playing into the plans your parents had laid out for you, had Bucky’s mind reeling and his stomach rolling. 

There had been many times over the last ten years that Bucky had regretted going about the issue with your parents the way he did. He couldn’t even count the number of times he’d kicked himself for not finding some way to talk to you before just disappearing. He could’ve told his dad, but then he worried that his dad would do something to provoke the Pierce’s and his family would get hurt, and then you’d get hurt. He could’ve tried to sneak a message to you to see how involved you were in your parents plans, to see if you had been planted near him to spill secrets and plans back to Pierce. But he didn’t. Instead, nineteen year old Bucky held onto the hurt he was feeling and let it fester deep inside, only opening up slightly to tell Steve the truth. Twenty-nine year old Bucky knew that he’d made a quick decision in a tough spot, and that it was a decision that would affect his life forever. 

“Georgie Porgie Pudding and Pie, still kissing the girls and making them cry?” A voice rang from the doorway of the conference room after a brief knock. A voice that Bucky hadn’t heard in years. 

“Anthony, it’s nice to have you back, my friend, but you know there’s only ever been one girl for me,” George spoke as he stood to shake hands with Tony Stark, a smirk growing on the latter’s face as he took in the room.

The Starks had been allied with the Barnes family for decades. After Howard had retired, he’d made Tony his successor and the connection with the Barnes family had been even tighter after they worked out a way for Tony to be their weapons supplier. Bucky had only found out at dinner with his parents that Tony had been working on moving back to the city, and that he was bringing you with him. Apparently George had been keeping up with your movements in the last ten years, and only part of the reason he’d asked Tony to move business back to New York was to have his supplier closer, the other was to bring you home. But George would never tell that to Bucky. 

“Heard you’ve got a big shot corporate lawyer working for you now,” George joked, drawing Bucky’s attention back to the conversation at hand.

“Oh the best, you know it’s so nice to be back, but I’m not quite so sure she’s that happy to be back,” Tony was looking directly at Bucky as he spoke, making it obvious that he was aware of the reason why you left New York for California originally. Bucky held back the cringe that was threatening to make itself known on his face as Tony continued.

“But anyway, glad to be back. And in true Stark Industries fashion, there’ll be a welcome back gala this weekend, George old buddy old pal, you and the wonderful Winnie are both invited. I figured we should probably re-clarify to some members of the public…that we are in fact friends and occasional…coworkers.” Tony was speaking in code, something he did when he wasn’t sure how involved every person in the room was with the family.

“That’s a great idea, Anthony, but sadly Winnie and I will have to pass, it’s our anniversary this weekend. Thirty-five years,” George spoke fondly, “but, since James will be working closely with you as a liaison between Barnes Inc. and Stark Industries, maybe he could go in our place?” 

Now THAT pulled Bucky’s attention back to the table immediately. George knew that you would be at the Stark Industries gala, there was no way you’d be able to skip out with a boss like Tony. 

“What are you doing, dad?” 

“Me? Nothing. I’m just making sure that the city is aware that Barnes and Stark are two closely related names, and what better way to do that than to send you in my place? You’ll be the face associated with that name soon enough,” George spoke as innocently as he could, making Bucky raise his brows in question at his father’s game. Steve was barely containing a grin at the situation that Bucky had managed to find himself in.

“Georgie, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to play matchmaker with your son and my lawyer? And let me tell you, that would be a very bad decision indeed,” Tony growled, seriousness lacing his tone as he took in Bucky and his family. Tony’s reaction actually made Bucky cringe this time, and Tony appeared satisfied by that betrayal of emotion, “oh yeah, Buckaroo. She told me everything. It would take a million years of groveling to pull yourself out of the hole you dug. Leave my kid alone.”

The whole room was frozen. Tony Stark wasn’t known to make random gestures of emotion, he usually preferred to stick with sarcasm, but the way he just spoke to the two heads of the Barnes family was proof to Bucky that he’d do anything for you.

Good. Someone’s gotta look out for her, he couldn’t help but think to himself.

“Understood, Anthony. Now, if we’re done here-,” George started before Bucky interrupted.

“Just make sure she leaves Liam Stinson alone. You know he’s no good, Stark,” Bucky spoke with a twinge of a threat in his tone, but Tony just laughed.

“You really think I can tell her what to do? You must not have ever known her at all, kid.”

The chair scraped across the floor as Bucky stood up quickly, his hands balling into fists next to him, Tony just quirked an eyebrow at him in a silent taut, but Steve just held his hand out to touch Bucky and calm him down, meanwhile George watched  all of this calmly from his chair at the head of the table. After a minute of awkward silence he cleared his throat, nodding his head for Bucky to take a seat.

“As I was saying, thank you Anthony. James will be there on Saturday and he will be on his best behavior, so long as you can promise you will be too?” George’s question was meant to show that while he respected the family’s connection with the Stark’s he wouldn’t accept future disrespect of the heir of Barnes Inc. next time. Bucky and Tony continued to glare at each other before both offering a nod and a half-hearted apology as the meeting drew to a close and members of the family began to file out. Before Tony could walk out of the room Bucky was approaching him, George just shook his head at the confrontation he knew he couldn’t prevent as he walked to his office.

“Woah there little Barnes, didn’t mean to piss in your cornflakes earlier. Good thing dear old dad was in there to keep the peace.”

“Tony, you have no clue why I did what I did all those years ago,” Bucky spoke, feeling the anger bubbling up inside him once more, when Tony was holding up a hand to stop him.

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Buckaroo. Because as far as I know, she doesn’t even know why you did what you did all those years ago. My question is, do you know what it did to her? It’s not my place to tell you so you won’t get a word out of me, but just know if you’re ever lucky enough and she decides to tell you in her own words, on her own time? Know that you’ve just encountered the strongest damn woman I’ve ever met in my life. See ya Saturday, Barnes. And I mean it, don’t fuck with her.” Tony spun on his heel, leaving Bucky and Steve to process his statement and his exit.

A low whistle sounded from behind Bucky as Steve walked up and clapped his best friend on the shoulder, “I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again. You fucked up.”

Bucky’s hands were tightening into fists again, this was a conversation they’d had multiple times. The one thing about Steve? When Bucky told him what he’d done? Steve flat out told him that he was the biggest idiot and had made the worst mistake of his whole life but that as his second, he’d listen to him. 

“It was for the best and you know it. Why she decided to work for an asshole like Stark I will never understand.”

“Not so sure I ‘know it’ Buck, but I’ll let you keep living in that delusion. Now come on, we gotta make sue you’re all fresh and ready to go for this weekend,” Steve steered Bucky out of the room and as far away from Tony Stark with master precision, a skill he’d learned very well over the years.

The gala was the same as every other fancy party Bucky had ever been to. A bunch of rich people plying themselves with champagne and minuscule plates of food while stroking each other’s egos. Ever since he was a kid Bucky hated going to these events but he went because it was his job. He was the second-in-command of the family, and the heir of Barnes Inc., he had to make a good impression, which meant occasionally rubbing elbows with Manhattan’s elite. When you walked in the room it took all Bucky’s concentration to pay attention to NOT spitting out the champagne in his mouth. He watched you from afar, Steve would say he was being creepy if he was here, but he didn’t attempt to talk to you. No, Bucky was perfectly content with sitting in a corner, talking to whoever he needed to, and never speaking a word to you. Or so he thought.

Until he saw you being slowly engulfed in a small circle of rich assholes, your shoulders hunching up, and your knuckles tensing as they gripped the champagne glass in your hand. Bucky knew that stance, even if he pretended he couldn’t read your body language still, he’d only be lying. So he excused himself from his current conversation partner and strode across the room. As he walked up beside you he slid his hand across your waist, the warmth of your skin practically lighting him on fire, as he apologized to your company and drew you away to ‘dance.’ 

In Bucky’s mind, he thought of this maneuver as being doubly beneficial. He could get you out of an obviously uncomfortable situation, and then he could warn you off Liam Stinson. Easy peasy. Until it wasn’t. 

Easy peasy until Bucky fucked up. Again. And said something stupid and tactless that made you pull away. With a final warning about Liam, Bucky knew his night was over. Walking back to his table, Bucky managed to keep an eye on you on and off throughout the evening. He noticed when you stumbled over your steps a little more and when you approached Tony and Pepper before heading out of the ballroom. Sam was accompanying Bucky tonight as his ‘chauffeur’ so he made sure to have Wilson stationed just outside the hotel where he could keep an eye on you, out of sight of course. It wasn’t until he received the all clear from Sam that you’d made it off site safely that Bucky began to relax. He replayed your conversation on the dance floor over and over in his head. Mentally hitting himself for saying what he did about “truly knowing you” the innuendo making him cringe as he took another sip of his drink.

When the night finally ended, Bucky straightened his coat and headed towards the door he knew Sam was waiting at. Halfway across the ballroom, he was stopped by Tony. 

“What was that about, Barnes? I told you to leave her alone tonight and judging by the little stint on the dance floor you chose to blatantly ignore me,” Tony growled.

“Stark I was getting her out of the middle of the sharks, she was visibly uncomfortable.”

“Yeah and instead of the sharks the fucking Megalodon decided to take a bite. I swear to whatever god is listening, Barnes-“

“I warned her about Stinson, Stark. He’s not a good person. He’s obviously deeply connected to Pierce. You know this, I know this. He’s not good for her.”

“Oh but you are?”

“That’s not what I said and you know it,” Bucky spat, growing slightly more annoyed at the turn of the evening and just ready to go home, “I just needed her to hear that. It’s up to her if she listens.” And with that Bucky stormed out the door and into the night. Upon seeing Sam Bucky sent him to get the car as he leaned against the exterior of the Plaza and lit up a cigarette, the smoke filling his lungs and adding to the little buzz he already had in his head. 

“Man did you see the tits on her? Can’t believe Stinson’s gonna be tapping that soon,” Bucky heard a voice exiting the hotel from behind him. A man walked out, talking on the phone as he waited for his ride, ending up right beside Bucky.

Bucky had tensed at the mention of Liam’s name, hoping that whoever the guy was talking about was just some other woman. His mistake.

“You think Liam’ll give me a go? I’d like to fuck that L/N bitch at least once, could you imagine those legs wrapped around my waist, oh fuck or even better those lips wrapped around my co-.”

The man didn’t have any time to react before Bucky was punching him in the face. Hard enough to draw blood. And he didn’t stop. Punch after punch made Bucky feel like he was releasing ten years worth of pent up aggression and anger. Bucky grabbed the man by the collar and looked right into the eyes of Caden Smith, the same guy who’d been dancing with you at The Underworld earlier in the week.

“Don’t you ever talk about Y/N L/N like that again or I promise you I won’t let you live,” Bucky sneered as he offered a final punch to Caden’s face, rendering him unconscious. A low whistle sounded from the curb as Sam pulled up and rolled the window down.

“What’d he do boss? Say you don’t look good in your tux? That’s a rookie move,” Sam teased until he realized that Bucky was way past a teasing mood, “Let’s move him to the alley, we can’t leave him passed out and bleeding in front of the Plaza. All the rich people’ll be clutching their pearls.”

Bucky helped Sam move Caden to the alley in silence, the car ride back to Bucky’s place was much the same. Even so, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if he’d fucked up more tonight than he had ten years ago. 

One Month Later

A whole month passed since the gala. Bucky had managed to send Steve to Stark Industries whenever there was legitimate business to be done in order to avoid you, but that wasn’t always possible. However, Bucky’d managed to do a good job at avoiding you. But just because Bucky Barnes wasn’t actively interacting with you doesn’t mean that he didn’t have people paying attention to your every move. About a week after the Stark gala Bucky learned that his father had been keeping tabs on you ever since he’d left you. George still hadn’t learned the reasons why Bucky did what he did, but he made sure to tell his son that he had his ways of making sure you were safe. Those ways mostly involved Tony and Pepper. Bucky learned that shortly after you’d made it to California, you’d started working in some capacity with Stark Industries. A part of Bucky felt relieved that for the last ten years you’d been under some sort of surveillance, but another part of him felt bad for making the decisions that led to you being in a near constant state of supervision. Bucky grew a little more content with the fact that Tony was so close to you, seeing that he and Pepper truly cared for you as if you were their own child made Bucky happy that you hadn’t been completely alone for all these years. 

The problem now came with the fact that you had been spotted with Liam Stinson a number of times within the last month. Multiple dinners, outings, coffee meet-ups, Bucky was getting information at least twice a week about you and Liam fucking Stinson. Each time he received news that the two of you’d been spotted in public was like a knife to the chest for Bucky, but he didn’t have anyone to blame but himself. And he knew that. Some part of Bucky Barnes, deep down, knew that warning you off Liam Stinson would have the opposite effect and would likely draw you further into his arms. In fact, according to the intel he’d received from various sources, you were attending a party tonight on Liam’s arm hosted by none other than Alexander Pierce himself. The thought of you taking up the role your parents had bestowed upon you all those years ago made Bucky feel like he was two seconds from being physically sick.

It was late when Bucky sat at the table next to his father, Steve, and other members of the Barnes family as they spoke about the threat they’d received most recently Pierce. Apparently Caden had showed up at Pierce’s house with a black eye and a loose tooth complaining about Bucky beating the shit out of him the night after the gala. Why Pierce had waited so long to threaten them was already confusing him.

“James, what did I say about messing with the Pierce family?” George grumbled as he rubbed his head as if to stave off a headache. 

“Not to. However, Smith was talking grossly about Y/N. I couldn’t let it slide,” Bucky snapped in reply.

George sighed, understanding his son’s anger, “son, I understand that but we can’t go starting a war with Pierce right now. Because that’s what he’s threatening if you touch any of his guys again.”

“What was his guy doing at Stark’s party anyway?” Steve asked genuinely confused as to why Caden was there in the first place.

“Rich family, Manhattan, blahblahblah, either way, we showed him that Stark is allied with us. If he wants to fuck himself over by helping Pierce start a war then let him. I’ll kill them all without fucking blinking,” Bucky growled, his mind replaying the words that Caden had said before Bucky attacked him.

George opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a furious knocking at the office door. Before anyone could even reach for a gun the door was being flung open, a harried looking Tony Stark appearing before them. He let his appearance act as a warning before reaching out and pulling you into the middle of the doorway, your cheeks soaked with tears and your body seizing as you tried to take a breath. Bucky could barely catch his own breath at the sight of you sobbing and tucked under Tony’s arm. 

All the oxygen left the room when Tony took a deep breath before growling, “Oh boys…we’ve got a fuckin’ problem.”

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[astermacguffin]

What if the Mark of Cain manifests differently when it's imprisoning God and not the Darkness? If the Darkness makes the Mark bearer go insane with unbridled want for destruction, then what does sealing God make you do?

An obsessive desire for creation? Creation to the point of corruption? (Think of the Shimmer from the film Annihilation. Continuous reproduction to the point of begetting alien, cancer-like entities. A refracted, distorted notion of creation.)

Okay, so canon divergence from The Trap. They successfully seal away Chuck, then Castiel bears the Mark. (Jack won't be back until later episodes, so he's not here yet.)

At first, they think he's fine. Cas says he's not feeling any bloodlust just yet. (He does feel a certain itch under his skin. Not a desire to murder, but a desire to do...something. He doesn't tell this to anyone.)

His grace is getting stronger, almost archangel-like (if not more). It's incredibly helpful for hunts, and Cas is happy to feel his wings healthy again after a long time. Sam is happy for him, but Dean is suspicious of things (especially since he's a previous Mark bearer).

After a while, Cas starts feeling...burdened, almost bloated by grace. (After all, he does have access to an infinite supply of it.) He needs to have an outlet for it.

Cas tells them so and Sam suggests healing people. Dean gives the green light on the condition that he remains invisible and he doesn't go Godstiel on them again.

It's a great outlet, and for the first few weeks they start feeling normal again. But unfortunately, healing stops being enough to relieve Cas of his excess grace anymore. The mass healings start to pile up all across the globe and it catches everyone's attention. Some think it's a blessed miracle, some think it's a sign of the end times. They make him slow down on the healings after that.

Without an outlet, however, Cas starts feeling antsy and pained. They brainstorm on possible alternatives. Cas suggests going to Heaven and saving it from collapse by healing his brethren's wings and creating more angels out of consenting souls in Heaven.

He explains Heaven's endangered and dwindling numbers. Sam agrees that it would hit two birds in one stone: relieve Cas from excess grace and prevent the extinction of angels. Dean doesn't like the idea of more winged dicks so he shoots down the idea. Eileen says that since Cas is the one in pain, he should be the one to decide.

Ultimately, Cas defers to Dean's judgment (as always). Sam protests, arguing that he can't just shoulder that pain. Cas replies: "I've suffered worse, Sam."

Cas doesn't complain about the pain for about a week, so for a while, everyone believes him when he said he can shoulder the pain. One day, Dean finds him outside the bunker, groaning in pain as he bleeds himself out, his grace pouring into the ground and sprouting plants. Dean sees this and is finally convinced to allow Cas to make more angels.

What follows then is a series of escalating events:

While Sam and Eileen are practicing their witchcraft for spell they need in a hunt, Cas suggests to enhance Sam's physical and magical abilities using his grace. "It will make the process faster and safer," he reasons. He agrees, but Dean eyes this suspiciously.

During one of their hunts, they encounter a young and freshly-turned vampire. The boy begs them not to kill him, and Cas gives him a proposal. "Promise not to feed on humans ever again and I shall cure you of your hungers and your pains. Pledge your allegiance to me and you shall never be afraid of yourself ever again." The boy agrees, and before Dean could even protest, Cas slices his palm and feeds the vampire his grace.

They argue about the grace-feeding in the Impala. Dean notices Sam's pointed lack of complaints and figures it out. "You're in on this, aren't you? How long has Cas been doing this? He's going Michael behind our backs and you're letting him?"

Sam argues that it's different because Cas isn't making super monsters; he's making them less "monstrous" (whatever that means). Sam's obsession with his own "purity" is key to understanding him here.

One time, Dean catches Cas in his "garden" ("forest" seems more apt with how lush the greens already are) creating butterflies and bees out of thin air using his grace alone.

Reports of the miraculously healed people suddenly gaining new abilities like increased strength, heightened senses, and prophecy start popping up. Some are experiencing phantom limbs, talking about their sprouting "wings."

Sam is becoming addicted to Cas' grace to the point that he willingly lets himself be hurt in hunts just so Cas can cure him. Dean confronts him about this, but Sam just argues that he's "never felt this pure before." Eileenn shares the same concern as Dean.

Hunts are becoming less frequent the more monsters are being "cleansed" by Cas. The world is becoming disconcertingly quiet.

Cas' "garden" is starting to emit this strange aura. The plants and creatures growing inside it are starting to look more...alien.

One of the original angels goes to Dean and tells him of Heaven's affairs. The Host is stable again, but the angels he created are...not exactly angels. They're graced up and they sustain Heaven, but their true forms are "horrifying and incomprehensible, even to an angel." The angel adds that more than 60% of Earth's creatures have already been touched by Cas' grace.

The final nail in the coffin is when Dean catches Cas in the garden fiddling with his angel blade. It's emitting a strange glow, vibrating a subtle hum and looking as if it's liquid, flowing and distorting here and there.

Dean asks him what he's holding. "Oh, this?" Cas responds. "This is the Last Blade. Last, not in terms of time but in concept, for no other blade shall ever compare to it. The spark of creation. Fiat lux."

Dean's heart sinks. Of course. The First and the Last, Alpha and Omega. "Cas...the Mark, I think i-it's scrambling your brain, man."

"I know," he replies, eyes wet and apologetic. It's a small moment of lucidity amidst weeks and months of...whatever that was.

"Okay, okay, so you're still you, that's... that's good. Okay." Dean doesn't know how to approach this. Give him a fight and he'll know what to do, but this? Watching his best friend, the love of his life, be distorted into something incomprehensible? Yeah, this is totally beyond him.

"You know, I used to hate Chuck," Cas says. "How could the Father of All Creation be this angry, petulant child? But," he continues, "knowing what I know now, it's either regressing into a petty child or being reduced to insanity."

"Cas...what are you talking about, man?"

"No mind should bear this burden, Dean. No matter how infinite they are," he says, voice trembling in exhaustion.

(more below the cut)

He continues. "The awareness of everything is the awareness of nothing at all. Imagine perceiving every possible piece of information about the world all at once. Seeing light in all its forms all at once: ultraviolet, infrared, etc. Sensing all the neutrinos zip by, sensing gravitational waves, sensing the slighest bit of seismic activity."

Dean doesn't know how to respond, so he lets him go on.

"Knowledge can only ever be a slice of the Totality of Truth. Truth is absolute chaos, and Knowledge is the partial ordering of this chaos. One can sanely approach Truth only through organized paritions of Totality. Why do you think Chuck is so obsessed with stories? Stories are linear and finite; they're sensible snippets of the endless sea of possible worlds."

"So, what? Are you trying to—"

"I'm not trying to justify Chuck's actions, Dean," he interrupts. "I just want to contextualize them. Chuck's simplistic and repetitive narratives are what they are: manifestations of a chaotic Totality, gone insane trying to understand itself. Looking for simple things to hold on to."

Cas takes a deep breath. He speaks with a shaky voice. "I'm barely holding myself together, Dean. I can feel the universe beneath my skin."

He doesn't know what possesses him to ask, but he does it anyway. "What are you holding on to?"

Cas smiles at that. "You."

They stare at each other for a while, frozen where they stand. Cas, with unrestrained affection in his face. Dean, struck by shock and indecision. It's Cas who first breaks the silence.

"I think we both know what needs to be done, while I'm still lucid enough." Cas slices his palm and lets his blood drip down the soil. He then thrusts the Last Blade into the ground, lifting it when the soil glows.

Dean stared in awe as the ground erupts and a familiar shape rises from the hollow. "Is that.."

"The Ma'Lak box, yes. I also enhanced it with the Blade to be able to house things as powerful as me."

"Cas, wait, maybe we can think of another way to—"

"Dean," he says, calmly. "You know there's no other way. I wouldn't ask this of you if there was."

In any other scenario, Dean would've kept arguing, but even he knows that they're running out of time. Sam's grace addiction is getting worse and all the creatures touched by Cas' grace are slowly mutating into eldritch horrors. Dean offers a shaky nod. "Okay."

Tension visibly releases from Cas' body. "Thank you, Dean." He opens the box and enters it with ease. "When you lock this, bury me with the garden's graced soil. Once I'm under, my influence over the world should dampen."

Dean gives a wordless nod. For a while, they just stared at each other, Cas lying down and Dean trying to memorize every inch of his face while he can.

Cas presses his hand into Dean's left shoulder where his mark used to dwell. "My untainted grace," he whisper gently. "Some of it is still inside you. That's probably why you're not as affected by me."

Dean wants to say, I'll always be affected by you, but he holds himself back.

He takes his hand back, a bloody handprint now on Dean's jacket. "I love you, Dean," he says, breathless.

"Cas..."

"I probably would've built up to that if we had more time but," he makes a surprised laugh, "I am, as you would say, already 'losing my marbles', so."

The air quotes would've been funny and endearing in any other scenario, but it just makes Dean's vision blur up with tears.

"Thank you for everything, Dean. I know we've done nothing but repeatedly hurt each other these past few years, but I don't want to spend a deathless eternity with that as my memory of you. I forgive you, even for the things you haven't forgiven yourself for yet. And I'm sorry for everything, especially for ending things like this."

He should probably wipe away his tears to clear his vision, but Dean can do nothing but stare at Cas in awe, in fear, in grief, in reverence. They're both fully crying now.

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Wait, Cas."

Cas looks at him, waiting.

"Can you...can you say it again?"

He doesn't need to clarify what 'it' means. They both know.

With one last mournful smile, Cas says: "I love you, Dean."

And with that, Dean finally gathers all the strength he needs to shut the lid and lock the box. He stares at it for a while, unblinking. He forgot to ask, Can you hear my prayers down there? But it's too late now to ask.

The box automatically lowers itself into the hole it arose from. Now all that's left to do is to cover it again with soil.

Dean doesn't bother with a shovel. He gently buries the box with his hands deep in the soil, some of it getting trapped under his nails. He continues the mindless task, whispering a tireless series of I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I hope you're okay I'm sorry, over and over between his quiet sobs. Cas is quiet inside the box. No screaming or crying. Dean doesn't know if that's better or worse.

When the final clump of soil is pressed into the mound, he suddenly feels it: a visceral shift that echoes throughout the world. The alien glimmer of the garden dims, and the world corrects its axis. Dean screams his agony into the air.

That's how Sam finds him: sprawled over a mound of soil, crying his heart out. Dean doesn't need to say anything: he knows what happened. He pulls his brother off the ground and brings him inside the bunker.

For the first two weeks, Dean cycles through drinking and passing out in various places in the bunker. If he's not wearing the jacket, he's holding it with close to him. Sam gives him a considerable space to grieve while he monitors the world grace problem with Eileen. The grace mutations have significantly dropped since then and everyone's going back to normal.

Unfortunately, that means monsters are getting hungry again. Sam doesn't want to leave his brother alone after going nonverbal with grief and dysfunctional due to alcohol. Eileen assures him that she can handle hunts on their own and that the hunter network that they're building will lessen the workload.

Sam's attempts to sober Dean up finally work, mostly due to the latter having very little strength to protest. Dean remains sober an entire day for the first time in weeks, and all he can think about is: I haven't prayed to Cas in a while. The longing might have reached him, but never a coherent prayer.

The first time he goes out of the bunker in a while, he heads straight to Cas' garden. Sam's glad that he's finally going out because "the sun is good for you" or something, but he's really only here for Cas. He kneels in front of the burial mound (where a patch of an unknown species of flowers is already growing).

The first prayer he says to him in a while is: I love you, Cas. I should've said it while you were still here. Not saying it out loud and just strongly thinking about the words somehow bolsters him to get the words through.

He's crying again, and he knows he's losing coherency. In his mind, he's explaining about his hangups and his regrets and his continuous denial of his own joy, but one constant remains: he's beaming all his love and affection into this prayer.

He's halfway through explaining all the traits that he finds endearing in Cas when suddenly, he feels it like a snap. If the glimmer dimmed when he buried Cas, now it's as if it was never there in the first place. With an unsettling amount of certainty, Dean just knows that Cas is gone. For real, this time.

"C-cas...?" It's the first thing he's said in a while and it sounds rough in his long unused voice.

"CAS! CAS!!! " He's now screaming, ripping away the flowerbed with his bare hands and scratching the soil away. Tears are obstructing his vision, but he has no time to wipe them away. He needs to make sure that is really gone. His hands are bleeding and he doesn't give a damn.

Eventually, Sam comes running towards him. "Dean! Dean, stop!"

He tries to hold his brother back, but Dean just keeps on clawing away soil. "Sammy, Sammy he's gone, he's not there anymore, Sammy I have to see, please, let me see Cas again, I need—" he breaks into sobs again, and like a puppet with its strings cut off, he slumps into Sam.

"Dean, it's okay, it's okay..." he says softly to his shaking brother.

Eventually, when Dean calms down, he looks at the carnage he's done and starts sobbing again. The flowers, his last evidence of Cas being here, are all destroyed. Now Cas truly is gone.

. . .

When Cas first heard Dean's confession prayer, he was overcome with joy. When he realized what that means, however, his stomach suddenly sinks.

He hears before he sees the Empty arrive, slithering like black goo.

"Wow, were you excited enough for eternal slumber that you wanted a preview?" The Shadow teases in Meg's voice.

At first, he was dreading the Empty, but now that he thinks of it, it's actually the perfect prison for him: a vast, endless nothingness for him to fill with his creations.

And if Jack wasn't in Heaven, that only means that he's in the Empty, and he can't wait to see his son again. Even when blinded by the madness of the universe, he can never forget the joy of being a father.

"Yes," he replies, "I'm actually glad you're here now."

. . .

Somewhere around the globe, Billie drops Jack back.

"Don't worry, kid. You'l reunite with your father very soon."

(to be continued)

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x11 thoughts

For an episode that ends with a journalist Ted trusts but has (understandably) recently lied to warning Ted that he’s publishing an article about his panic attacks, it was fitting that this episode seemed entirely about what all of these characters choose to tell each other. And after most of a season of television that Jason Sudeikis has described as the season in which the characters go into their little caves to deal with things on their own, it turns out they are finally able to tell each other quite a lot.

Which is good because, um, wow, a lot is going to happen in the season finale of this show!

Thoughts on the things people tell each other behind the cut!

Roy and Keeley. I absolutely loved the moment during their photoshoot in which they bring up a lot of complicated emotional things and are clearly gutted (“gutted”? Who am I? A GBBO contestant who forgot to turn the oven on?) by what they’ve heard. We already know that Keeley and Roy are great at the kinds of moments they have before the shoot begins, in which Roy builds Keeley up and tells her she’s fucking amazing. From nearly the beginning of their relationship, they’ve supported each other and been each other’s biggest fans. But their relationship has gone on long enough that they’ve progressed from tentative arguments about space and individual needs into really needing to figure out what they mean to each other and how big their feelings are and what that means in relation to everything else. Watching these two confess about the uncomfortable kiss with Nate, the unexpectedly long conversation with Phoebe’s teacher, and—most painfully—the revelation that Jamie still loves Keeley didn’t feel like watching two people who are about to break up. (Although I could see them potentially needing space from each other to get clarity.) It felt like watching two people realize just how much they’d lose if they lost each other, which is an understandably scary feeling even—or especially—when you’re deeply in love but not entirely sure what the future holds. Not entirely sure what you’re capable of when you’ve never felt serious about someone in quite this way, and are realizing you have to take intentional actions to choose that relationship every single day. I’m excited to learn whether Roy and Keeley decide they need to solidify their relationship more (not necessarily an engagement, but maybe moving in together or making sure they’re both comfortable referring to the other as partner and telling people they’re in a committed relationship) or if things go in a different direction for a while.

Sharon and Ted. I’ve had this feeling of “Wow, Ted is going to feel so intense about how honest he’s been with Sharon and is going to end up getting really attached and transfer a lot of emotions onto the connection they have and that is stressful no matter how beneficial it has been for him to finally get therapy!” for a while now. And Sharon’s departure really brought that out and it was indeed stressful. But the amount of growth that’s happened for both of these characters is really stunningly and beautifully conveyed in this episode. Ted is genuinely angry she left without saying goodbye, and he doesn’t bury it some place deep inside him where it will fester for the next thirty years. He expresses his anger. (I also noticed he sweared—mildly—in front of her again, which is really a big tell for how much he has let his carefully-constructed persona relax around her.) He reads her letter even though he said he wasn’t going to, and he’s moved. I don’t think Ted has the words for his connection to Sharon beyond “we had a breakthrough,” but Sharon gets it, and is able to firmly assert a professional boundary by articulating her side of that breakthrough as an experience that has made her a better therapist. And is still able to offer Ted a different kind of closure by suggesting they go out before her train leaves. No matter how you feel about a patient/football manager seeing their therapist/team psychologist colleague socially, I appreciated this story because IMO it didn’t cross big lines but instead was about one final moment in this arc in which both Ted and Sharon saw each other clearly and modeled what it is to give someone what they need and to expect honesty and communication from them. I liked that Ted ends up being the one saying goodbye. (The mustache in the exclamation points!) I like that whether or not Sharon returns in any capacity (Sarah Niles is so wonderful that I hope she does, but I’m not sure), the goodbye these characters forge for themselves here is neither abandonment nor a new, more complicated invitation. It’s the end of a meaningful era, and although the work of healing is the work of a lifetime, it’s very beautiful to have this milestone.

Ted and Rebecca. So, maybe it’s just me, but it kinda feels like these two have a few li’l life things to catch up on?! (HAHHHHHaSdafgsdasdf!) I really adored their interactions in this episode. I maintain that Biscuits With The Boss has been happening this whole time (even when Ted’s apartment was in shambles, there’s biscuit evidence, and I feel like we’ve been seeing the biscuit boxes in Rebecca’s office pretty regularly too), even if it might have been more of a drive-by biscuit drop-off/feelings avoidance ritual. It was really lovely to see Ted on more even footing in Rebecca’s office, joking around until she tells him to shut up, just like the old days. And GOSH—for their 1x9 interaction in Ted’s office to be paralleled in this episode and for Ted to explicitly make note of the parallel in a way Rebecca hears and sees and understands?! MY HEART. In both of Rebecca’s confessions, she is not bringing good news but it is good and meaningful that she chooses to share with Ted. In both situations, Ted takes the moment in stride and offers acceptance equivalent to the gravity of what she has to confess. And in both situations, he’s not some kind of otherworldly saint, able to accept Rebecca no matter what because he’s unaffected by what she shares. He is affected. When he tells her about Sam, you can see a variety of emotions on his face. Rebecca is upset and Ted is calm, and even if I might have liked for him to try to talk about the risk the affair poses to the power dynamics on the team or any number of factors, I also really liked that he just accepts where she is, and—most importantly—does not offer her advice beyond examining herself and taking her own advice. A massive part of being in a relationship with another person (a close relationship of any nature) is figuring out how to support that person without necessarily having to be happy about every single thing they do. It’s so important that Ted connects what she’s just told him about Sam back to what she told him last season about her plot with the club. These both feel like truth bombs to him, and he is at least safe enough to make that clear. These are both things that impact him, things that shape how he sees her and maybe even how he sees himself. He cares about her and is capable of taking in this information; he has room for it. But it’s not something he takes lightly, and neither does she. See you next year.

Tumblr user chainofclovers and the TV show Ted Lasso. My brain is going wild thinking about all the ways the next “truth bomb” conversation could go in 3x11 or whatever. Maybe they go full consistent parallel and Rebecca confesses something else, this time about her and Ted or some other big future thing that impacts him as much or more as the other confessions have. (The same but different.) Maybe the tables turn and Ted has something to confess to her. While the 1x9 conversation ended in an embrace and the 2x11 conversation ended with a bit more physical distance (understandable given the current state of their relationship and the nature of the discussion), the verbal ending of both conversations involved voices moving into a sexier lower register while zooming in to talk specifically about their connection to each other, so I have to assume there will be some consistencies in s3 even if the circumstances will be completely different. I don’t really know where I’m going with this and I obviously will go insane if I sustain this level of anticipatory energy until Fall 2022 but I have a feeling my brain and heart are going to try!

Sam and Rebecca. I know there’s been a lot of criticism about whether this show is being at all realistic about the power dynamics and inevitable professional issues this relationship would create. On some level, I agree; I like that pretty much everyone who knows about the affair has been kind so far, but you can be kind and still ask someone to contend with reality. But I also think that in nearly every plot point on this show, the narrative is driven by how people feel about their circumstances first and foremost. (It’s why the whiteboard in the coaching office and the football commentators tell us more about how the actual football season is going from a points perspective than anyone else.) This episode reminded me how few people know about Sam and Rebecca, and how much their time together so far has been time spent in bed. The private sphere. I thought this episode really expertly brought the public sphere into it, not—thank goodness—through a humiliating exposure or harsh judgment but through an opportunity for Sam that illustrates not only all his potential to do great things but how much Rebecca’s professional position and personal feelings are in conflict with that. Could stand in the way of that. I don’t have a strong gut feeling about where this will go, but I do think Sam’s face in his final scene of this episode is telling. He started the episode wanting to see Rebecca (his most recent text to her was about wanting to connect), and Edwin’s arrival from Ghana really exploded his sense of what is possible for his life. If he’d arrived home to Rebecca sitting on his stoop prior to meeting Edwin, he’d have been delighted. Now he’s conflicted, and whatever decision he makes, he has to reckon with the reality that he cannot have everything he wants. No matter what. And Rebecca—she has taken Ted’s advice and is attempting to be honest about the fact that she can’t control Sam’s decisions but hopes he doesn’t go, and even saying that much feels so inappropriate. And I’m not sure how much she realizes about the inappropriateness of the position she’s putting him in, although maybe she’s getting there considering she exits the scene very quickly. I’ve honestly loved Rebecca’s arc this season. I think it’s realistic that she got obsessed with the intimacy she thought she could find in her phone. I think it’s realistic that her professional and personal ambitions are inappropriately linked. (They certainly were for Rupert. It’s been years since she’s known anything different; even if she’s done some significant recovery work to move on from her abusive marriage and figure out her own priorities, she’s got a long way to go.) I know there are people who will read this interaction between Rebecca and Sam as a totally un-self-aware thing on the part of “the show” or “the writers” but what I saw is two people who enjoyed being in bed together and now have to deal with the reality that they’re in two different places in their lives and that one has great professional power over the other. If that wasn’t in the show, I wouldn’t be able to see it or feel so strongly about it.

Edwin and Sam. I really enjoyed all the complexities of this interaction. Edwin is promising a future for Sam that doesn’t quite exist yet, though he has the financial means to make it happen. He offers this by constructing for Sam a Nigerian—and Ghanaian—experience unlike anything he’s found in London. Sam is amazed that this experience is here, and Edwin’s response is to explain to him that the experience is not here. Not really. The experience in Africa. Sam has of course connected to the other Nigerian players on the team, but this is something else entirely. I’m really curious if Sam is going to end up feeling that what Edwin has to offer is real or not. That sense of home and connection? So real. And so right that he would want to experience that homecoming and would want to be part of building that experience for others. But at the end of the day, he went to a museum full of actors and a pop-up restaurant full of “friends,” and is that constructed authenticity as a stand-in for a real homecoming more or less real than the home he’s building in Richmond? (With other players who stand in solidarity with him, and with well-meaning white coaches who say dumb stuff sometimes, and an a probably-doomed love interest, and a feeling that he should put chicken instead of goat in the jollof, and the ability to stand out as an incredible player on a rising team.)

Nate and everyone. But also Nate and no one. Nate’s story is so painful and I’m so anxious for next week’s episode. For a long time I’ve felt that a lot of Nate’s loyalties are with Richmond, and a lot of his ambitions are around having given so much to this place without getting a lot back, and having a strong feeling that he’s the answer to Richmond’s future. But now I’m not so sure; his ambitions have transferred into asking everyone he knows (except Ted, of course), if they want to be “the boss.” But Nate is all tactics and no communication. When he wants to suggest a new play to Ted, he hasn’t yet learned to read Ted’s language to learn that Ted is eager to hear what he has to say. And while Ted has been really unfortunately distracted about Nate and dismissive of him this season, he clearly respects Nate’s approach to football and was appreciative of the play. Nate just can’t hear that. The suit is such a great metaphor of all the things Nate is in too much pain to be able to hear clearly. Everyone digs at him for wearing the suit Ted bought him (including Will, who’s got to get little cuts in where he can, because he’s got to be sick of the way Nate treats him), but when he gets fed up his solution isn’t to go out on his own and find more clothes he likes; he asks Keeley to help him. And then crosses a major line with her...and no matter how kind she was about it, she was clearly not okay. Everything is going to blow up, and I’m so curious as to whether Nate will end up aligning himself with Rupert in some way or if he’s going to end up screwed over by Rupert and in turn try to screw over his colleagues even worse than he’s already done. Or try desperately to make amends even though it could be too late for some. Either way, I’m fully prepared to feel devastated. (And there’s no way I’m giving up on this character. If he’s able to learn, I truly believe he could end up seeking forgiveness and forging a happier existence for himself. Someday. Like in season 3 or something.)

Ted and Trent. Trent deciding to reveal his source to Ted is a huge deal, and I’m torn between so many emotions about this exposé. I’m glad it’s a Trent Crimm piece and not an Ernie Loundes piece. I’m glad that Trent made the decision to warn Ted and let him know that Nate is his source. I fear—but also hope—that this exposure will set off a chain reaction of Ted learning about some of the things he’s missed while suffering through a really bad bout with his dad-grief and panic disorder. The things Ted doesn’t know would devastate him. I wonder if Ted will want to figure out a way to make Nate feel heard and reconcile with him, and I wonder how that will be complicated if/when he realizes Nate has severely bullied Will, gets more details on how he mistreated Colin, etc. I wonder if Rebecca, whom Nate called a “shrew” right before she announced his promotion, will be in the position of having to ask Ted to fire him, or overriding Ted and doing it herself. So many questions! I have a feeling it’ll go in some wild yet very human-scaled, emotionally-nuanced direction, and I’ll be like “Oh my GOD!” but also like “Oh, of course.”

This VERY SERIOUS AND EMOTIONAL REVIEW has a major flaw, which is that none of the above conversations include mention of the absolute love letter to N*SYNC. Ted passionately explains how things should go while dancing ridiculously! Will turns on the music and starts gyrating! Roy nods supportively! Beard shouts the choreography like the Broadway choreographer of teaching grown men who play football how to dance like a boy band. Everyone is so incredibly proud when they nail it. I love them.

I cannot believe next week is the end. For now. I’m kind of looking forward to letting everything settle during the hiatus, but I’ve really loved the ride.

[doctorstethoscope]

Brown Bear || A. Hotchner x Fem Reader

Hello my loves, this is a double whammy, because it’s for @ssahotchswife‘s soft Hotch Saturday AND for @anxiousblanketqueen’s birthday challenge! 

prompt: reading to your baby!

warnings: insane fluff, discussion of pregnancy, mention of morning sickness, injury mention, aaron hotchner being completely wrapped around a baby’s finger

word count: 1.7k

You and your husband hadn’t slept for more than six hours at a time in one month, two weeks, and four days, not that you were counting. Okay, fine, so maybe you were. But to be fair, it also had been one of the most incredible six weeks and four days of your life— the number of days since Alexis Haley Hotchner had entered the world. She was worth every sleepless night. 

The past six weeks had been total bliss— both of you on parental leave, Aaron dropping Jack off at school every morning and then coming home to “his girls,” as he had affectionately dubbed the two of you. You’d spend the day together, getting to know the little girl who had stolen both of your hearts in an instant, and then Jack would come home after school and complete your family unit. He couldn’t be more obsessed with his baby sister, and it melted your heart to watch his little fingers push hair out of her even little-r face.

So when Alexis’s coos woke the both of you up at 3AM, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at her. How could you be, when she had come into the world and made everything so perfect? You sat up in bed to go get her, but Aaron threw a tired arm out.

“I got her,” he mumbled, inching himself up to a seated position. “You did the last one.” He says as he tries to delicately disentangle himself from you. 

He stumbled out of bed and across the hall into the baby’s room. You hear him simultaneously from her nursery and from the baby monitor on the bedside table as he crosses to her crib.

“Hey, angel, it’s okay. Daddy’s here.” He whispers as he cranes into the crib to pick up Alexis. “Shh, daddy’s got you.” He says, hoisting her up against his chest and placing one large hand over her back. 

She’s quiet after a moment, content to be pressed against her father’s chest as he softly bounced around the room to calm her. You couldn’t see her face through the monitor, but you knew her well enough to know that her quiet did not mean she was back to sleep— you were sure that when Aaron checked her big eyes would be wide open and staring up at him. 

You were right. Aaron shifted so that she was cradled in his arms and he could see her face, very much awake and enamored with her father. 

“Lexie, my little love, “ Aaron cooed out as he settled in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. “It’s not time to get up yet. Mama and daddy need a little bit more sleep to keep up with you and your brother.” 

Lexie blinked up at him, unconvinced by his pleas. 

“Okay, sweet girl. One story, but then you have to go back to sleep.” Aaron answered the question that Lexie couldn’t possibly articulate as he reached blindly for a book off of the shelf next to the rocking chair. She couldn’t even ask for what she wanted, but Aaron was already helpless to do anything but give it to her.

“Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?” 

You let out a contented little sigh that no one could hear. You had loved Aaron’s voice since the moment you met him, but listening to him read to Jack and Lexie was always special. He was softer with them, more vulnerable than he was with the team. You could hear his love for them in every syllable. 

“I see a red bird looking at me. Red bird, red bird, what do you see?” 

He’s so quiet with her, so gentle, and you can’t help but remember the way you stunned him into silence when you told him about her for the first time. 

Aaron was away on a case when you found out, off in Michigan or Nebraska or somewhere else that was decidedly not your home in Virginia. 

You thought about calling him, but you wanted to see his face when he heard the news. Wanted to be able to pull him into your arms and thank him for choosing you, for choosing to let love in again when life had told him over and over again that doing so was a mistake. You wanted to thank him for this incredible life.

It was late when he finally came home. You had tried to stay up, but the morning sickness had you awake early most days and you were exhausted. You stirred when the bedroom door clicked open.

“Aaron,” you mumbled out, not sure if you really said it or if you just dreamt that you said it.

“Shh, it’s me. Go back to sleep. Love you.” He said, already divesting himself of his suit coat and his tie. 

“Turn the light on.” 

“Honey, I’m alright.” 

It was a habit the two of you had developed— he would never tell you if he was injured on a case, so you insisted on giving him a once-over when he came home, making sure he was all in one piece. Aaron pretended it was ridiculous but he’d never tell you how much your tender touch would warm him from the inside out, how it would bring him back to the bright and soft place in his heart that he saved for you, and how it would pull him out of the darkness he worked in day in and day out. 

“Turn on the light, please.” 

Aaron obliges you, flicking the switch as he unbuttons his shirt and tosses it in the general direction of the hamper. You squint against the harsh light after just waking up. By the time you’re brave enough to fully open your eyes, Aaron is at your bedside in just his boxers, awaiting his examination with a fond smile. You rise to your knees on the mattress, running a gentle finger over the planes of his jaw and nose before giving him a quick kiss. You missed him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, inspecting his chest and finding only the regular nine scars. 

“Turn around.” You tell him. 

“The unsub confessed. I didn’t even draw my gun.” 

“Well then this should be quick,” you quipped back, and he turned with a roll of his eyes and a smile that betrayed his affection. 

As promised, he was completely unharmed, and he turned to face you again. 

“Can we go to bed now?” He asked, moving in closer to wrap his arms around you, his hands settling on your hips.

“Aaron,” you said, raising your hands to his face and placing your thumb where you knew his dimple would appear at your next words. “I’m pregnant.” 

Sure enough, your thumb slotted right in. He couldn’t bring himself to form any words, but his beaming smile spoke loud enough. You couldn’t help but match it. There was a long beat before he spoke.

“Really?” He whispered, after a moment.

“Yeah, honey. Really,” you confirmed. 

“You’re sure?” If he wasn’t smiling so big, you might have mistaken his hesitance for fear. You knew better. 

“I haven’t been to the doctor yet, but I’m eight for eight peeing on sticks. I bought every brand at the drugstore. So I’m pretty sure.” You confessed with a little giggle.

He’s kissing you before either one of you can say anything else, and it’s perfect. He’s home, and he’s here, and he’s perfect, and you’re going to have his baby. He’s wrapped up in your arms and you’re wrapped up in his and you’re pretty sure you could just stay like this for the next nine months until Alexis makes her appearance. 

Aaron’s snore, loud enough to be heard from both the monitor and your half-opened door, distracts you from your reverie. You smirk a little as you swing your legs out of bed and cross the hall. 

The book is propped up open against Aaron’s chest, his arm occupied with cradling your little girl and his other hand splayed over her slight frame. Luckily, she’s asleep too, and you begin your quest to remove them from each other without waking either of them. 

Aaron, ever the anxious sleeper, wakes with a start as soon as all nine pounds of Alexis are taken from his arms. You shush him before he can say anything. 

“You fell asleep, baby. Go back to bed.” 

“Could’ve dropped her.” He murmured, not pleased with himself, and you let out a dissatisfied little tsk as you place Lexi against her crib mattress. 

“You had both hands wrapped around her. You weren’t gonna drop her. She was fine.” You corrected him.

He rose from the rocking chair and tugged at your hand. “You coming?” 

“I just want to look at her a little bit longer.” You tell him

“You know, you aren’t supposed to be awake at all. Sleep when the baby sleeps.” He chastises with absolutely nothing behind it, settling in to wrap his hands on your waist and tuck his chin into your shoulder. 

You watch her for a moment, or two or three. It’s hard to tell. You could look at her forever. 

“Thank you,” you both say after a moment, and turn to each other with exhausted little smiles. 

“Come on, let’s get back to sleep before we get sentimental and weepy,” Aaron teases, tugging you back towards the bedroom. 

“It’s a little too late for that, love.” You tell him as you climb into bed, scooting towards the middle of the mattress so you could wrap your arms around him and place your head on his chest. He just places his lips against your forehead by way of response, falling back to sleep before he can move away. You sigh that contented little sigh again, and Aaron’s arm pulls you in closer to him. He really had given you the perfect life. You couldn’t wait to repay him with baby number three.

[reidology]

Dying in a bathtub - Hotchreid

Summary: Hotch gets nightmares and hides in the tub, so Spencer makes it comfy for him <3

Word count: 4.4k

Content warning: discussion and description of nightmares, smut, brief description of physical abuse, light angst, quite fluffy, happy ending <3

AO3

__________________________________________

The first time it happened Spencer woke up shivering, the cold of a missing body beside him seeped through the sheets chilled his bones. He braved a lazy glance to his bedside, squinting to see the alarm clock blinking big and aggressive red numbers. 05:25. Aaron must have gone out for a morning run, something Spencer never understood. In fact, his reasoning of ‘why run, when sleep?’ whenever Aaron attempted to get him to join always earned him an affectionate eye roll and kiss on the cheek, so why would he ever give that up? No promise of endless coffee can get Spencer Reid to wake up before 7am, much less for exercise.

Reluctantly the sleepy man made his way to the bathroom, knowing he might as well shower and get ready for work now, there’s no way he could get back to sleep without his human furnace of a boyfriend covering him completely. Only, through his grogginess he failed to notice the boyfriend-shaped body softly snoring in the tub.

So he padded over to the semi-closed shower curtain and blearily reached in to turn the water on for it to heat up while he got ready.

Almost as soon as the water turned on, a high-pitched shriek assaulted the young agent’s eardrums. Spencer did what, in his opinion, any caught-off-guard fully trained FBI agent would do— he squealed in shock and fell back on his ass. A moment later the shower curtain pulled back, revealing a very irritated -and very wet- Aaron Hotchner.

“Babe what the fuck,” the older man whined, wringing out his shirt and turning the freezing water off, “I was sleeping!”

“Oh this is my fault?!”

“Yes! Couldn’t you see me?!”

“I just woke up!”

“Me too!” Aaron pointed to his wet shirt as if to say you have no excuse for this.

Spencer let out a frustrated sigh and pushed himself up from the floor. Somehow he upset his boyfriend, he guesses apologies are on the table. He carefully stepped into the bathtub to face his dripping boyfriend and wrapped his arms around the soaking man’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he pouted quite prettily, “But honey, why were you sleeping in the tub?”

“I didn’t sleep in the tub. I went to sleep in our bed, then you woke me up in the tub.” Aaron grumbled.

Spencer thought Aaron looked positively insane. His eyes focused on the older man’s pupils as his hands checked for a fever.

“Do you have a concussion?” He couldn’t help but fret about the man who is usually so well put together. He was obviously in distress though what kind of distress completely eluded the dry man. Aaron waved Spencer’s worried hands away from his face, “No. Spence, I’m telling you, I didn’t sleep in the bathtub.”

“Then how did you get here?”

Aaron shrugged and swatted Spencer’s nosy hands away that were trying to inspect the grumpy man for any injuries, “Who knows? Let’s get some breakfast.” He calmly stepped out of the tub and headed out, leaving Spencer confused (for once).

“... But it’s 5 am.”

_____

Two nights later, it happened again. But this time Spencer awoke to the sound of sobbing. His heart just about broke in two at the sight of Aaron curled in on himself in the porcelain tub, shaking and covered in sweat.

The Unit Chief used to have terrors most nights. After Foyet, all of life’s problems seemed to unravel in his dreams. The sounds and images were so vivid that upon waking up he believed he had done what he’d dreamed. That he’d hurt his family or that Foyet had come back to finish the job.

During hard cases, Aaron would forgo sleep completely, knowing his mind would only haunt him with terror beyond his conscious capabilities. It left him exhausted and agitated for the rest of the investigation. The team and LEOs got frustrated but none had the guts to confront him, except for one young agent who took special notice of his boss.

So Spencer stepped in, and after weeks of getting closer and learning more about each other than they had in the past five years of working together, Aaron digressed and accepted the help that was offered. The following three months ensued so smoothly, the therapy was helping and Aaron couldn’t believe he was sleeping full nights again. He knew it was all thanks to Spencer, who had taken up a very special place in his heart. Aaron knew that Spencer would always be there when he woke up, like an anchor. Something real to hold on to and keep him in place.

It had been a while since Aaron had such a bad episode, luckily Spencer knew just what to do and jumped right into action. Without missing a beat, the younger man climbed into the tub and sat by Aaron’s head, taking hold of one of his white-knuckled fists and gently coaxing it open by rubbing his thumbs from the palm to the back of the hand. Constant pressure, soothing, real. With one hand he threaded his fingers through the brunette’s damp hair, stroking softly at his scalp, willing his nightmare mind to latch onto the familiar touch.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He murmured sweetly like a mantra.

Eventually Aaron’s panicked sobs dissolved into pained whimpers, his body lost some of its tension, allowing for Spencer to gently lift his boyfriend’s head into his lap and off the hard floor of the tub. The whimpers died down to light trembles and Spencer shushed him comfortingly, continuing to sooth him with gentle strokes to his head. Slowly Aaron’s eyes opened and Spencer felt the moment panic set in. The taller man’s breathing quickened and tension returned to his body, frozen in fear. God, Spencer should have turned the lights on.

“It’s just me, darling. You’re home, Aaron. This is home. You’re safe.”

Aaron trembled more, his eyes glazed over as if reliving the nightmare, “Shhh you’re safe.”

Spencer placed a feathery kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead that seemed to anchor him immediately. Tentatively, Aaron looked up at his rescuer, relieved to be in his lover's arms and away from the nightmare universe that had felt so real. He burrowed further into Spencer’s lap, wrapped his shaking arms around his boyfriend’s steady hips. He tried to focus on Spencer’s heartbeat in an attempt to regulate his own. Spencer was warm, Spencer was safe. Always safe.

“Foyet?” Spencer asked cautiously, breath fanning over the older’s forehead. Aaron stilled at the name then nodded. The younger man knows that Aaron needs to talk about it immediately, even if it’s terrifying. It allows him to discern dreams from reality, so that the events and sensations of the night terror don’t ingrain themselves into the man’s memories of reality .

“... and Scratch,” Aaron gulped, “They had Jack. I couldn’t... I didn’t know what was real. Couldn’t tell if it was really Jack. He made me hurt him. Oh god, Spence… I hurt him.” Sobs wracked the pained man’s body once again, unable to forget the horror of the dream. Spencer rocked them back and forth.

“Shh… Jack is fine, he’s at Jess’s. You would never hurt him, Aaron.”

Aaron was spent, he couldn’t muster up the energy to talk. He fell asleep once more in his partner’s comforting hold.

_____

The next morning they woke up with aching muscles from being in the bathtub for so long. Spencer couldn’t help but be worried about his boyfriend. There was definitely something going on, and though he respected Aaron’s privacy immensely, he was afraid of the older man getting into a dangerous situation. Was he sleepwalking to the bathroom? What if he tripped and hit his head on the edge of the tub? But most importantly, why were Aaron’s nightmares leading him to the bathtub?

Spencer nuzzled Aaron’s neck in an effort to wake him up a bit more. “Darling, we need to talk about this.” The worry in Spencer’s voice was audible and prompted Aaron to sit up and sigh deeply. He didn’t think this part of his life would ever come back up to the surface, he’d avoided thinking about it for decades and he didn’t know what triggered the habit to resurface. But now it’s affected Spencer, and he knew he couldn’t keep the love of his life in the dark, but some things were so hard to talk about.

Aaron found himself panicking again, flashes of Foyet and his father clouding his mind once more. Images of Sean taking cover in Aaron’s arms while their father pounds on the bathroom door-

“I know. I-” He was cut off with the sweetest kiss.

“You can take your time sweetheart. No rush.”

Even at this stage in their relationship, Aaron wasn’t used to being treated so well. The kindness that naturally radiated off his boyfriend was enough to make his insides melt, the understanding words never ceased to choke him up. But he knew Spencer would be there to put him back together once he gave him all his pieces. He buried his face in the younger’s neck, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, relaxing into his hold. Spencer wrapped his arms around Aaron’s lean form, offering a safe space. Aaron had never been this vulnerable with anyone before his relationship with Spencer.

After a moment of just holding each other, Aaron’s breathing mellowed out and his voice cracked as he explained everything.

“After Sean was born, my dad started drinking. He’d always been somewhat aggressive, scary even. He- he’d get angry and take it out on my mom… and if she wasn’t there... But when he started drinking it got a thousand times worse. I vowed to myself to protect Sean at all costs, I promised him I would never let our dad get to him. So I took the brunt of it when he was sober. But when he was drunk… he would chase us, try to get to Sean specifically. He was just a little kid 5 or 6, I was 15. He would scour the house to find Sean so I took him and locked us in the only room in the house with a lock… the bathroom. I’d carry Sean in my arms and make a run for it. I blocked off the door with a cabinet and we sat in the tub until he passed out.. My dad couldn’t get in but he would pound on the door so loudly, his voice was so angry-”

Aaron inhaled hard, the grip on the back of Spencer’s shirt tightened and his breathing shallowed. Spencer continued rubbing soothing circles on his back, allowing Aaron to take his time.

“The bathtub was the only safe space for Sean and I. We spent whole nights in there, waiting for my dad to pass out. Sometimes we’d tell stories, play games, but other times we cried and I covered his ears with my hands, not wanting him to hear the horrible things our dad was saying. This went on until I went to college, I tried to take Sean with me but my mother wouldn’t allow it. My dad died a year later, when Sean was 9.

“I- because of that, if any of us had nightmares we’d go into the bathroom and sleep in the tub, because no one could get to us in there.”

Aaron swallowed thickly and timidly looked up to the honey-haired man. Had he sounded pathetic?

But Spencer cupped his cheek once again and kissed him lovingly.

“Thank you for telling me. You’re the strongest person I know, Aaron. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.”

Aaron’s heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through his chest. He swallowed down all his uncertainties and let Spencer in, he was proud of himself. Both of them yawned in succession, still exhausted from last night and uncomfortable from sleeping in the bathtub.

With a cheeky grin the younger man announced, “Let’s go to bed, I’ll get us the day off.” Aaron was so grateful.

While he called in sick, Spencer had an idea, and he knew just who to call.

_____

“Boy Wonder! How wonderful to hear from you on this frabjous day! We miss you and the Bossman dearly. We are definitely… working. Work is happening, and we’re doing it, and it’s getting done. You can trust me on that. Definitely no piñatas in the break room, where would we even find one on such short notice? Emily doesn’t even know where to get balloons! Anyway, what magical service may I bestow upon thee today, my little lord?”

Spencer bit back a chuckle, “Hi Penelope. Listen I need some advice on… interior decorating-”

Immediately, he got cut off by a squeal, “I’m on my way!”

“No! Garcia- after work-”

The line goes flat.

“Dammit. I should’ve just texted JJ.”

_____

Despite her best efforts, the rest of the team did not let Penelope leave the BAU for a ‘design emergency’. Fortunately for Spencer, that gave him some time to plan what he wanted to do while cooking lunch for his sleeping beauty.

After a full meal of soup and grilled cheese, Hotch retreated to the living room hoping to watch some History Channel with Spencer. They love watching the conspiracy shows together and debunking the awful propositions. Though Hotch learned quite surprisingly that Spencer is very open to the idea of aliens on Earth. However, he has a suspicion that that’s mostly wishful thinking on the part of Spencer's inner child. Nevertheless, it’s adorable and Hotch was excited for it, and waiting patiently for Spencer to finish cleaning himself up.

Before he could question what was taking so long, their doorbell rang a sweet lullabye sound (they had to change it from the awful buzzing that it was- it was too overwhelming for Spencer). Not expecting any company, Hotch was puzzled as to who could be at their door.

“Who is it?” He spoke through the intercom.

“Bossman! Sorry to hear about your incurable case of Work Sickness! If you could let me up, I brought you some warm soup!-”

Spencer bounded through the foyer from the bedroom, practically hopping over furniture and knocking down a flower arrangement, “I got it! I got it!” he heaved frantically.

“Babe, what’s Garcia doing in front of our building on a weekday?”

“Nothing Aar don’t worry about it, Penelope and I are just going out for lunch, see you later!”

Spencer grabbed his satchel and was out the door.

“But- Spencer you just had lunch!” The curly haired man was already running down the steps, “Bye!”

It was Hotch’s turn to be left alone and confused.

_____

In Penelope’s car, Spencer explained his idea to Penelope, without going saying too much about Hotch’s nightmares. In true Penelope fashion, the bubbly bits-and-bobs connoisseur knew the perfect place to get what Spencer needed. Penelope dragged Spencer around the independently-owned home goods boutique like a lost puppy for about two hours. She ended up with more bags for herself and Sergio than what Spencer needed.

A few texts and one missed call from Hotch wondering what the hell was taking Spencer so long prompted them to leave. Spencer thanked Penelope in front of their apartment and air kissed her goodbye, promising to show up at girl’s night next week..

Spencer walks into the foyer as quietly as possible and hides the bags behind the living room’s entertainment center.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah! I’m home!”

Aaron walked out of their bedroom with a soft smile. His round glasses were on, meaning he’s been reading… or looking at case files.

“Are you going through the case?” Spencer scolded.

The bespectacled man didn’t waver. “There’s something the victim’s parents said that doesn’t add up, they said that every Thursday Mandy went to soccer practice after school and swim practice in the next town over in the evenings. She takes the bus so if the unsub was stalking her he’d either have to take the same bus and risk getting caught or have a car- which goes against our age profile- so that would mean there’s someone driving him. Spencer, there are TWO unsu-” He was cut off by being pulled into a kiss. He hummed into it and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s slender waist, pulling them closer together. When they pulled apart Spencer whispered “Two unsubs. The team knows, they’re working on it. You-” he tapped his finger on the older’s chin for emphasis, “need to relax today.”

The resulting pretty pout was swiftly kissed away. None of that now.

“But I don’t know how to relax. I’m Aaron Hotchner, stoic as a statue, stern glare extraordinaire, Mr. Emotionless…”

Spencer rolled his eyes and trailed his hands down Aaron’s hard chest, “I know how to make you relax…” The other man grinned “Oh is that right?” Spencer smirked and led his boyfriend to the couch.

_____

That night when Aaron was gone to bed, Spencer quietly retrieved the bags from behind the TV and set his plan in motion.

_____

He’s trembling. And he can’t recognize his own thoughts, he can’t think straight, all he can see is his son- and Haley with terror written all over their faces.

He barely registers the sound of Jack’s wailing because, as if from right behind his ear, he hears a voice that he interprets as his own thought ‘shoot him’.

‘What?’

‘Pull the trigger’

He looks back up to his sobbing, terrified son, and without hesitation- click- BOOM-

Aaron bolted up from the bed, gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the dark. Jack? Where is he- Jack ohmygod-

His vision landed on Spencer’s sleeping form, breathing shallowly and folded into himself like a pretzel, sleeping soundly like an angel. Spencer. Real. Safe. He took a deep breath to regulate his heart. In for 4, hold, out for 6, repeat. This was exhausting.

Groggily, Aaron slipped out from under the covers and headed to the bathroom to get a drink of water and maybe splash his face a little. He thought of getting into the bathtub for the comfort he desperately needed right now, but he’d be embarrassed if Spencer found him in there again. Who does that? But nothing could have prepared Aaron for the sight before him when he opened the door.

Lights. Yellow, green, purple electric lights on strings, illuminating the room in a beautiful calming glow. They were suspended from the curtain rod of the bathtub, taped to the walls. Gorgeously scented candles perched on the sink, some on the ground, a few tea lights lining the edge of the tub. It smelled glorious and comforting and Aaron couldn’t tell what it was. Pine? Sandalwood? Campfire?

The most breath-taking part was the inside of the bathtub. Patterned sheets hung from the walls and draped over to form a delicate roof. Fluffy pillows perfectly laid out to coat every inch of the porcelain interior, and soft blankets piled on top for added comfort. Lights lined the inside of the sheet tent as well, it looked fantastical. Like something out of a book.

Aaron was floored, to say the least. Was this what Spencer had been doing today? He was flooded by a new emotion, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Spencer had done all of this for him? To make him feel safe?

He was still standing just barely in the room, taking everything in and getting emotional when he heard soft footsteps behind him and felt Spencer’s long arms slink around his waist. A chin hooked over his shoulder and a kiss was pressed to his neck.

“Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

Aaron nodded, “You did all this… for me?” A tinge of awe decorated his voice.

“Yeah,” his boyfriend whispered back, “So you don’t hurt yourself when you sleep in here.”

Aaron felt stupid for ever thinking his wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend would ever feel embarrassed by him. Of course Spencer took everything he admitted seriously, of course Spencer cared about what he’s been through, Spencer cares… that's what he’s been feeling. Taken care of. Important. For once in his life, he feels like he’s allowed to let himself be loved.

The stunned man seemed to be frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. His mind was overwhelmed with love for his boyfriend. Spencer pulled away and grabbed the older’s hands, Aaron let himself be led to the makeshift fort.

They climbed in together, careful not to knock over any of the burning candles. Spencer settled on one end of the tub and pulled Aaron into him before he could even think of not cuddling with him. He made space with his legs for his boyfriend to settle between, chest pressed to back, arms wrapped around his love. Safe, warm, and comfortable in a sea of cushions like twin yolks in a shell.

Laying here, in his lover's arms, surrounded by low tranquil lights, and the gentle rise and fall of Spencer’s chest, Aaron felt as serene as he’d ever been. Spencer slid warm hands under Aaron’s shirt, bringing one up to rest cozily on his heart. Aaron turned his head and nuzzled further into Spencer’s neck, feeling the familiar tingle of the man’s touch and murmured a low hum of approval.

Spencer’s other hand, that wasn’t on Aaron’s heart, was used to tip the taller man’s chin up to look at him.

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind,” he cooed, “sometimes it’s impossible to take yourself out of that world. But in our home, Aaron, I want you to feel safe and protected at all times. I want you to be vulnerable and unashamed. You’re free to be everything you are in here, and I hope that you feel you can be everything you are with me, too.”

Aaron lost himself in his partner’s deep gaze, glorious hazel eyes boring into him. Completely enamored by the words spoken to him, all he could do was nod and lick his lips, trying to regulate his heart rate for a completely different reason now. Spencer had never been so… authoritative before and his sincere but stern tone sent thrilling sparks down his spine. A blush rose up his neck.

Spencer tracked the slow movement of Aaron’s tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and didn’t fight the impulse to drag his thumb over it. “You’re always safe with me.” He barely whispered before angling his head down to catch those lips in a languid kiss. Aaron sighed into it, waiting a little while before pushing himself up to fix their awkward angle. He positioned them so that Spencer was laid down flat on his back, allowing Aaron to lay between his legs once more, chest to chest. They tangled themselves in each other, lips colliding again like a match to a box, igniting a fire in the both of them.

Both were still tired from waking up in the middle of the night, but the desire coursing through their bodies was a more pressing matter. Spencer lifted his hands to frame his lover’s neck and wrapped his legs loosely around his waist, inviting Aaron to grind down onto him, both already half hard from the anticipation. Spencer groaned into Aaron’s mouth. A sound that went right to Aaron’s dick.

They explored each other’s bodies with a youthful novelty, eager to feel more skin. Never once pulling their lips apart. Aaron slipped his hands under Spencer’s shirt and shoved it up under his arms, digging his fingers into those delicious hips. Finally he broke away from the kiss to pepper the younger’s face with sweet ones. Aaron’s heart grew three sizes at Spencer’s soft giggles and let out a low laugh of his own. How ridiculous were they, making out like teenagers in a bathtub fort? Neither much cared to answer that question though, because the impatient genius bucked his hips up to meet his boyfriend’s, who was still in his boxers, let’s get those off.

Spencer eagerly reached for Aaron’s underwear and palmed at his bulge just until he heard that impatient sound from him. He pulled the man’s cock out now fully hard and dripping with precum. A groan escaped the both of them at the sight and sensation. They wasted no time in getting Spencer out of his nerdy physics flannel pajama pants, and grinded their dicks together. Lighting sparked right through the both of them, Aaron balanced himself on one arm near Spencer’s head and took both of their lengths into his right hand.

The rub of their slick cocks together was spectacular as Aaron kept a slow and steady pace, making sure to draw out all the best sounds he knew Spencer could make by nipping at his neck, where he knew the younger man was ticklish. Spencer whined at the excruciating pace, turning into a desperate whimpering mess. Making Spencer wait was so fun.

Spencer’s hands find grip in Aaron’s short hair, keeping him close, feeling the pull of Aaron's big hand on his dick and grinding up to meet him. It’s intoxicating bliss, being taken over the edge by the man he loves.

Their worlds minimized to just the slide of their cocks and the lips on their skin. The whimpering man felt the familiar build up in his abdomen, moaning freely now as he chased his orgasm, guiding Aaron’s hand with his own to feel his touch everywhere.

“Yeah baby,” Aaron encouraged, his own orgasm coming on quickly, “Cum for me baby.”

Spencer sputtered his release over both of their hands and stomachs, momentarily suspended in the intense bliss of his orgasm. He laid there spent, feeling like putty in Aaron’s hands, and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. He took his lover’s cock in hand and pumped him quickly, thumbing the head of his dick on each upstroke. Aaron came with a groan and a shudder, his arms gave out. They laid there catching their breaths for a while, ignoring the drying stickiness between them and tracing slow patterns on each other’s skin. They were so lucky to have each other.

“How are we going to shower now?” Aaron looked up and pouted.

“There’s a perfectly good sink just 5 feet away.” They laughed, Aaron pulled a blanket over them.

------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @foxtrot91 @physics-magic @ssa-sarahsunshine @hearteyedhotch

[otakusheep15]

SFW Alphabet - Diavolo

I love Dia with all my heart, so I thought it was finally time I made a post for him

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He is probably one of the more affectionate characters. Not many people are willing to get this close to him due to his status, so he is all over you the second you give him permission. His favorite form of affection is when you sit on his lap while he works. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Him as a best friend is a lot of fun. He’ll constantly sneak out of the castle just to hang out with you. He’d probably also wear those silly disguises so no one recognizes him. You two go all over the Devildom and he takes you where ever you’d like. In the end, you two usually get busted by Barb or Luci, but it’s always worth it.   

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddles are literally his love language. He’s always coming up behind you and lifting you up into a hug or dragging you off to his room just to cuddle in bed. Being the prince of literal Hell can be so tiring, so cuddles are exactly what he needs after a long day. And once you two get into bed, you’re never leaving again.  

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He knows that he can’t settle down, but he would love nothing more. Honestly, if it weren’t for his responsibilities, he would have already dragged you off to some secluded house in a forest somewhere to just live in peace. It’s also thanks to his status as prince that he doesn’t know any basic household chores. He cannot clean, and he can barely cook without burning down the whole kitchen. He’s had to rely on Barb and his other staff for so long, that he’s just never had to learn. He wants to, if only to impress you, but he never has the chance. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I don’t think he’s ever even been in a relationship tbh, so he’s never had to break it off with someone. If he did have to, it would be bad. Like, I’m talking literal execution in front of everyone in the Devildom bad. He is a very patient demon who is very caring towards basically everyone. If he actually had to break it off, there would probably be blood. We don’t talk about it.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As prince, he does technically have to find a spouse, so he’s down to get married if you are. However, the whole point of getting married for him is so that his partner can carry his heir, so if you can’t get pregnant that might be a problem. Not with him, not at all, but more so with Devildom law and such. Afterall, he needs an heir, and he can’t let someone have it if he isn’t planning on marrying them. He’d still marry you regardless though, so there’s nothing to worry about there. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is the gentlest giant you have ever seen in your whole life. He knows how big he is, and he knows how intimidating he can be, so he is very careful to make sure you know you can trust him. If he ever gets mad and feels like he might start yelling, he makes sure you are well out of range so that you don’t have to hear him. He also makes sure he never hugs you too hard or startles you without warning. He just wants to protect you, and that includes protecting you from himself if needed.  

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

A sucker for hugs, that’s what he is. It does not matter how, when, or where he hugs you, he just wants to, always and everywhere. If you’re in a place where he can’t out-right hug you, he has to be touching you somewhere. He’s lowkey possessive, so he loves any contact just to show others who you belong to. Hugs are just the best way to do that since they’re super obvious. And he also just loves you a lot and wants you to know. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’d say it relatively fast. he’s not one to waste time or lead someone on, so if he knew he loved you, he’d say it. He wouldn’t even care if you don’t say it back, he just wants you to know how he feels about you. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets insanely jealous, but he’s always good at hiding it. With all of the public appearances and people he’s had to deal with, he’s become a master actor. Inside, he could be fuming with jealousy when someone so much as looks at you, but no one will even know. He just puts on his classic smile and ask you to go with him somewhere for some “business” you have to attend. In reality, he just wants to drag you away for some cuddles to remind him that you’re his and you love him above all else. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are usually rather soft cause he’s so afraid of accidentally hurting you in some way. They’re sweet and gentle, and so full of love. They don’t come as often since of how much he works, so that makes them all the better when they do. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He actually loves children, but they’re always so afraid of him. No kid would ever go up to him due to pure fear, so he never gets to interact with them. It really does make him quite sad since he would love to get to know the younger generation more, and he just finds them adorable. Maybe you can convince one (1) child to talk to him with the promise of candy after. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He has to wake up pretty early for work, but he always makes sure you’re still comfy before he leaves. If you wake up with him, he’ll talk to you about what his day will be like while getting dressed. If you’re still asleep, he tries his best to stay quiet as he gets ready. No matter of you’re awake or not, he makes you stay in bed and brings (read: makes Barb bring) you breakfast in bed. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He’s usually pretty tired by the end of the day, so he wants nothing more than to just pass out with you in his arms. However, he usually still has work to do even after dark, so he’s forced to stay up. During these times, he loves when you come over to him and just sit there while he works. That usually motivates him to finish up faster so that he can get cuddles. Once he hits that bed, it’s lights out for him. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He seems like he would be an open book, but he really isn’t. Trust me, he’d love to be as open with you as possible, but he can’t. There are so many things he has to keep hidden due to his role as prince. Plus, he doesn’t have much to share since he can’t really get out much to being with. He tells you as much as he can, but he always has to stop himself before he goes too far. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He is super patient. He’s always having to deal with less-than-ideal situations, so he’s built up a good amount of patience. Usually, he’s pretty chill, so when he snaps, it’s for a good reason. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Quite honestly, his head is already filled with so much, so he can sometimes forget things you tell him. That’s why he has Barb write stuff down about you so that he won’t forget. He keeps all of these facts in a journal in his room, and you have no idea. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He loves the first time you stayed over at the castle for the night. Not that time when everyone went over, but just when you came over. He was still busy with work at the time, and he loves how understanding you were about it. There was a short time where you left his room, and he was worried with how long you were gone. He was about to go look for you when you walk back in with some tea and snacks to help keep his energy up while he’s working. It was this moment when he knew he loved you. The fact that you cared this much for him really made him happy. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is more protective than anyone else. The entire castle staff will be told numerous times over that their number one priority is now to protect you, much to the annoyance of Luci and Barb. He also makes sure to keep you close whenever you go out, and he’s always touching you somewhere. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would only have the best for you. Every date you two go on will be the most romantic thing you’ve ever witnessed. He would only calm down if you mentioned you prefer more lowkey dates, in which he immediately apologizes for not asking you first. He still wants to make them the best dates possible, but he’ll try and calm down a bit. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He tends to overwork himself, often leaving you alone in favor of finishing his work. He also gets way too overprotective sometimes, even going so far as to drag you away the second he gets jealous. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Like Luci and Barb, he only really cares about his looks because he knows he has to keep up appearances. He has to make a good name for himself, and looking good certainly helps. Barb also constantly pressures him into taking better care of his looks when he starts slacking off. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

It honestly depends on how close you two are. He’s used to people leaving him because they can’t handle being so close to the prince, so he might not even care if you leave him too. It’s only if you two have gotten super close that he might feel something if you were to leave him. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Okay, so, this came completely out of nowhere, but I have always lowkey had a  headcanon that he and Barb were in a QPR before. (for those who don’t know, it means queer platonic relationship). Anyway, I have no clue where I got this idea from, but it just makes sense to me. They probably broke it off once he showed romantic interest in you, but I promise they were in a QPR at one point. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He wouldn’t like someone who would try and drag him away from his job. He wants someone who understands what it means to be the prince of the Devildom, and that includes them being aware of how much work he has and that he can’t just drop it all without planning even if he wants to

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He’s bog, even for demon standards, so he tends to take up a lot of room. Honestly, he’s the kinda person that would spread out across the whole bed without a single care for who else might be in it. Let’s just say, you’ve fallen out of bed several times because he accidentally pushed you out. 

[angeli-marco-writes]

Sam Holland - Don't Tell

A/N & WC - This is not meant to glorify or condone adultery in any way. I do not know Sam, nor do I claim to, this is a work of fiction. This was written before Sam posted about a new girlfriend: no disrespect is meant towards her. I do not believe Sam would do this: it is fictitious. 3.5k.

Warnings - Adultery, explicit smut, unprotected sex, swearing, reader is the other woman, swearing, brief allusions to SA. 18+.

Summary - When Sam booty calls you, you can't deny him, but will sexual satisfaction be enough? Or will you always want from him what you know you can't have?

THIS WASN’T HOW YOU’D PLANNED to spend your Saturday afternoon, but Sam called, and who were you to deny him?

‘Come over at 3.’ He texted you. ‘She’s leaving then.’

No kisses, no emojis, no frills, no sign off, nothing. You’re just a nameless number in his phone. You knew what it meant. You’ve done it plenty of times before, so you know the drill, it’s just not exactly pleasant.

With ample time, you left your house, your new place only a couple of streets over from the Holland household, and you walked as inconspicuously as possible. Your coat wrapped tightly around you, you refused to make eye contact with anyone on the whole walk there.

You know the drill so well by now that you know not to stick to the front of the house, but instead to head around the back—straight into his bedroom window—via the bins. Theoretically, with no one home and Sam in the living room, you could walk in the front door, but his room is safest since she has always refused to enter—’just in case.’

Your heart thuds against your chest while you hold your breath, praying not to be heard downstairs the second your feet land on his floor. You press yourself flat against the wall behind Sam’s door, lips pursed and eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in your body clenched to the maximum. You’ve trained yourself to stay so quiet that the only sounds are your pounding, racing heart and the blood rushing in your ears.

Thankfully, before cramp can override you, you hear the words that give you the all clear.

“Bye, love!” he calls down the driveway, followed by a half hearted air kiss, a deafening crunching on the gravel driveway, and the front door at last clicking shut.

Your body finally relaxes, limbs falling loosely around you while you release one of the longest held breaths you’ve ever had.

You creak open Sam’s bedroom door, ready for him to meet you, and shrug your coat off, throwing it on the floor alongside your converse when you hear him coming upstairs. He gets like this, heavy steps and heaved breaths like they’re a strain on his body, and it usually means he’s extra horny.

“What took so long, lover boy?” you tease, standing scantily clad in his door frame, leaning against the painted wood.

His eyes darken with lust as he approaches you, his shadow from the landing already overpowering.

This isn’t like any sex or ‘relationship’ you’ve ever been in before. It’s risky, and that risk makes it so much hotter. Always leaving the door open just a crack so that the two of you could be found only by those closest to Sam, the chance of being caught together in the street on the off chance you go for drinks; after all, your reputation precedes you. But it’s the adulterous element of your relationship that makes it so fun. The fact that it’s usually after his girlfriend leaves that you’re called over to relieve his not-so-little ‘problem’, the little marks you trail across the hidden parts of his body, occasionally being risky enough to plant one on the juncture of his neck and shoulder just to test the waters.

After being together for over two years, she still refuses to do anything with him. Of course you respect such a thing: if she wants to wait till marriage and is able to resist Sam for that long, props to her. It’s just not always ideal for all party members. Sure, they’ve kissed, a little groping, but by this point, with how little Sam's lass has done with him, he’s immensely riled up.

He really likes his girlfriend, of course he does, and he’s spoken to her about this time and time again, asking why they couldn’t just do something more than a PG-12 touching session. She simply shook her head and smiled every time, “I’m saving myself for marriage, Sammy.” This infuriated him hugely. He’s been with a girl or two (or ten) before her, so is very expectant, but being twenty-two has its burdens. He isn’t anywhere near ready for marriage, but is increasingly sexually frustrated. So after an insane year of getting by with absolutely no action apart from the rare lap dance and make out, he knew he had to do something besides use his own hand to relieve the tension that was making him a complete prick.

He respects his girlfriend enough not to pressure her. Sam isn’t a bad person and so he isn’t going to coerce his girlfriend into sex she doesn’t want, seeing it as utterly immoral, so he did the only thing he could think of, and turned to the girl next door, quite literally. Not that it’s any more moral, but here you are.

As soon as he reaches you, the smirk etched upon his face is perfect, just what you expect, and his hands grip your waist tightly.

“You think you’re so cheeky,” he smirks, and his lips crash onto yours the next moment, his hands spanning your sides. His affection halts as he smacks the side of your ass. “I’ll show you cheeky.”

You don’t let him get another word in before you’re kissing him again, furiously this time, hooking one leg around his waist as the other flies to his neck, your clasp anything but gentle.

You’ve known of the Holland family for a while, living a street away, going to school with the boys and your mother having ‘neighbourhood meetings’ with the family. You, however, had had nothing to do with them, never getting involved in their ordeals, not really.

Keeping a resolutely ‘good girl’ demeanour all through school was difficult, especially when you wanted to rebel so earnestly. The first step was house parties, beginning when you were in year ten, everyone getting shit-faced and ending up giving sloppy hand-jobs in someone’s downstairs loo. That much you weren’t a fan of, so you waited until the end of school, A-Levels secured to be who you wanted to be. Trench coats, docs and chucks at every turn, short shorts and fishnets. Lots of hair dye came next, followed by a ‘scandalous’ collection of piercings, and a significant body count for someone your age, or so conservative old women perceived. Fuck them, your body your choice.

Times changed in a year and a half, though not that much. Mid way through your rebellion, you got a good job, your own place, and became a call girl, essentially. Sam’s call girl only, considering your regrettable soft spot for him.

You couldn’t care less though, even though it’s adulterous, Sam is incredible in bed. He frequently tells you the same.

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” he murmurs, “even when she was kissing me I could only think of you.” His lips are inches from yours with your breath mingling in the confined space of his doorway as you pant.

He hasn’t touched you yet, or even moved you to the bed. You feel yourself blush a little, scared fractionally by what he’s saying but mostly flattered. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself. It makes you feel like your old self is creeping in again, the girl next door that no one fell for.

“I like it when you get all shy on me, really naïve, shows me you’re a human and not just a sex goddess. My sex goddess.”

You pull his lips to yours with a burning passion, desperate to feel him up against you. Your palms settle this time on Sam's cheeks, angling his face to get the most out of the kiss, and your hold remains resolute so that he can’t pull away easily. This isn’t your dominance though, simply a ploy to hide your flushed cheeks from his prying eyes, the blush that’s been caused by his kind words. You want to keep him here long enough that you can claim the blush is from the breathlessness and the actions of his tongue slipping inside your mouth with an urgency you haven’t felt with him for a while. Is this the day that changes everything?

He backs you to the bed, walking unsteadily, and pushes you down onto the springy mattress. It pitches beneath you as he joins you, sitting by your side, his hand gravitating towards your thigh.

“Hey, what is it?” you ask, a slight hesitant stammer to your words.

“Nothing,” he sulks. “Just dunno how long I can keep doing this.”

His baleful eyes hover over your decolletage, and before you can protest and try to get him to open up about the whole situation, discussing the fact that maybe you should just quit while you’re ahead and come clean (because to be fair, it’s beginning to weight on your conscience too, even though you’ve never met said girlfriend), he kisses you, pinching your nipple through your bra until it forms a pebbled bud.

“Gonna take it all out on you,” he hisses, moving his kisses to your jaw. “All this pent up need from missing your body. God, feel so good beneath me.”

He swings a leg over to straddle your legs, and begins a ferocious attack on your neck with his teeth. You’ll have fun at work tomorrow, trying to hide them from your co-workers, one of them (on a temp basis, at least) being Sam’s twin. Harry cottoned on pretty easy, and won’t say a word, because he doesn’t want to deal with Sam’s temper when he’s been denied sex for too long. He likes Sam’s girlfriend, sure, but she doesn’t compromise on anything and looks down her nose at the lot of them, so he considers it fair play. And besides, with his track record, he really doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

Unwittingly, your hips buck up to meet his, feeling his throbbing need pressing against your pelvis, only for him to draw his body away from you, a bruising kiss being pressed to your lips the next moment. All in a flurry, your top is pulled down, your chest revealed to him.

“Bloody love your tits,” he purrs, a feral grin contorting his freckled face.

He rolls your pert bud between the rough pads of his fingers, palming at the other breast so as not to neglect it, only swapping when you’re beginning to writhe under him. His grin only increases.

“Sam… please.”

He knows what you want when you whine that way, so he sits up on his shins, and lets you tear his shirt open. Button by button, you watch as every inch of his pale chest is bared to you, his happy trail coaxing you lower.

“Get on with it, then,” he warns, clamping a hand around your hair in order to control your movements. He does this a lot, it’s his main power move. “They’re too damn tight now you’re around.”

You can definitely see that, the denim of his jeans pulled taut around his torso, the waistband of his boxers peeking above. He begins to pluck at your nipples again while you fumble with his buckle and zip, eventually tugging both items of clothing down at once. He stands, his lanky frame just a blur of white and freckles as he removes every last item, prowling back to you on the bed.

You, however, have other ideas, tugging him down with a grip on his shoulders until he’s helpless beneath you. In the time he was distracted with shucking his jeans off at last, you peeled your own shirt off and put your bra right. Sam’s a boob man, always has been, and takes great pleasure in fastening and unfastening your bras as much as he can, nestling into your chest for the time you spend together.

Since your last rodeo, you’ve gained some weight, and filled out a tad more, something Sam seems to notice right about now, especially as your chest hovers just inches from his face.

“Well? Are you gonna stare at them all day or take it off?”

This man… this man has the fucking audacity to lick his lips as one hand works on the hooks at the back of your bra, the other skimming the edges of the cups before it falls into his hands and he flings it across the room, knocking something off his dresser.

As soon as it's out of his way, he seems to forget everything apart from you, his eyes mesmerised by your chest, his mouth gaping a little, his eyes lingering on your hardened nipples for perhaps just a moment too long. You sigh to yourself, letting your knees dig into his navy comforter before your fingers wrap around his hand and place it onto your right breast. You know that, if you let him stare long enough, you’ll get nothing done. You need this release as much as he does. He takes the message, though, and begins kneading the flesh with a need you haven’t seen from him before. You even catch a wolfish grin when your face contorts into a silent ‘o’, overcome with pleasure. He tweaks your one nipple, and leans up to capture the other in his kiss-swollen lips, lavishing kisses around the sensitive area. You can’t help your nails leaving faint scratch marks in their wake over his freckled shoulders, tracing the silhouettes beneath his skin of muscle and bone, finding constellations within the freckles until he’s quaking beneath your delicate touch…

“Why’re you being such a tease?” he whines.

He has a point, you’re grinding down on his clothed cock in tandem with his playing with your boobs, your core hovering over his hard member, but it’s only fair with the stimulation he’s offering you. Just to shut him up, in one swift move you pull his boxers down and reach down to grasp him, stroking a couple of times before inching down, swallowing his aching length into your welcoming, warm walls.

Your moans create a heavenly sympathy, even as you stop for a moment to adjust to his size a little more, placing your hands on his pecs before grinding down on him. His hips begin to move, thrusting upwards and into you, finding a satisfying pace in tandem for you both as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow.

“Baby…” he moans, reaching out with his lips puckered to wrap them around your exposed nipple, suckling viciously, hard enough to hurt just a little.

“Stand up,” you command authoritatively, with a softness to your tone despite.

He grows harder inside of you, barely suppressing a groan, but his plan fails from shock when you bend over, clenching the foot of his bed so tightly your knuckles begin to turn white.

Casting a sensual glance over your shoulder, you bat your lashes and coax him the only way you know how, a wiggle of your bum added to help convince him; “Fuck me, Sammy…”

Your gasp is shrill and loud when he enters your craving core from behind, your knees nearly buckling when a stream of expletives falls from his lips once he grabs your hips, settling there. You’re sure to have hand-shaped imprints there tomorrow, but you don’t care, and apparently neither does Sam as he continues to thrust into you at an inhuman pace.

Breathy moans escape your lips as your nails find purchase in the sheets, now crumpled in your clenched fists. The only thing that fills your ears other than skin slapping against skin is the myriad of colourful words spilling from Sam in a groan, right down your ear.

“y/n… please…” he hums nonsensically, his lips finding their way to your shoulder blade and neck, kissing you, suckling.

He’s such a hypocrite: one rule for him, one rule for you, just because he’s got a girlfriend and is too pussy to break up with her even though his needs aren’t being met. For a brief moment, your body being used for his pleasure—and bringing you simultaneous heavenly satisfaction—you’re able to forget the consequences of your fornications.

They slip your mind once again the second one of his rough hands slowly makes its way down your front, finding your clit as he begins to rub harsh circles on it.

“Fuck…” you cry out, only for the heel of that hand to press into your pelvis, the other snaking around to your neck, applying the faintest pressure. Your walls tighten around him at the double stimulation.

His hips begin to move faster, blissful moans filling the room in symphony as you both near your highs, his tip grazing your special spot on every single thrust.

“C’mon,” he purrs in your ear, “can feel how close you are…” the pressure on your engorged pearl becomes a constant, and your body begins to spasm with unbridled pleasure. “Come.”

You do, and fireworks spark behind your eyes, setting off a train reaction in your brain, your walls clenching and your body collapsing, chest first, onto the edge of the bed. You must’ve cried out at some point, but your scream became but a gasp with his hand snug around your throat.

His thrusts slow, and he aids you onto the bed by your waist, but you roll away from him, aware that he hasn’t climaxed yet. He follows you down as your fingers link around his neck, but he’s not satisfied with that—as the smirk playing on his lips, causing dimples in his freckles, tells you—so he hovers above you on his knees. The hairs on his shins grate against the duvet cover so he shifts, but your hands move from his neck to his cheeks, pulling him closer to tangle your tongues together. His erection teases your wet folds while you’re lost in the movements of your mouths, and before you know it, he’s entering you again, and your hands are getting lost in his dark, silky locks, his one hand roughly kneading your breast. His thrusts recommence at a slower pace than before, his heels digging into the mattress as his groans overpower yours in the otherwise silent room.

“Shit… oh my God—” he hisses.

He begins to move faster, so you tug at his hair, revelling in the praises he offers, eliciting various heavy moans from his preoccupied mouth in between kisses. His warm breath and the resverberation of the moan vibrate across your lips, causing your hips to rock further into his, your legs wrapping around his toned torso to give him better access to your eager core. His movements become deeper as your breathing becomes even more escalated with high pitched moans tearing from your throat each time he hits your g-spot so perfectly. The knock-on effect sends him into an even more euphoric state, and before you know it, he’s groaning your name down your ear, and painting your walls white.

“Yes, Sammy…”

Your nails leave scratch marks all over his back from the sheer height of pleasure you’re experiencing, and that seems to be what sent him over the edge, his cum seeping into you as you milk his cock. He throbs inside you, his pelvis hitting you perfectly as he thrusts lazily while emptying himself. With one final press of his long, skilled thumb and digits over your sensitive nipple and a harsh bite to your pulse point just below your ear, the bundle of lust in your stomach becomes undone as you finish once again.

Before you’re fully recovered, he’s pulling out and leaving you empty as you lie together for a moment on opposite sides of the bed, no contact other than your pinky fingers linked and overlapping in between you. Except… despite the pleasure, you’re not satisfied. Not at all. And you know, in your heart, that this can’t happen again.

“Don’t tell anyone, please.”

“As fucking if,” you mumble.

“You ok?” he asks after a moment.

“Yes, just fine,” you snap, and roll off the bed, beginning to ferret around for your clothes.

“y/n, no…” Sam moves to grapple for you, “why are you leaving?”

“Because I’m done being treated like shit by you. Used as your fuck-toy when you’re too much of a pussy to deal with your girlfriend… I’m done, Sam.”

He’s up and off the bed, shucking his jeans on with great force that causes him to trip back onto the bed as you adjust your top and zip your skirt back up.

“y/n!”

“What!” you bellow right back at him.

He shuffles his feet on the carpet, and moves to speak, but his jaw just hangs open like a fish, nothing coming out.

“Yeah, I’m done here, Sam. Don’t booty-call me again.”

A weary voice from behind you calls out, “Sam?”

Shit.

This is bad. This is very bad. But what can you do? You’re the other woman, he’s the one choosing to commit adultery: why is that your problem? He can deal with his (clearly very angry) girlfriend, so livid she’s shaking, once you’re gone.

“Yeah. Your ‘don’t tell’ plan worked real good, Sammy. Karma’s a bitch,” you spit, spinning on my heels and waltzing out the door.

You mean it: you’re done. At least until he breaks up with her and undoubtedly calls back. You want him, there's no question about that, but you want him all to yourself: and that's a secret you won't tell.