#i always forget that the episode that inspired this one is called “push” and i think that's just the most fun coincidence

[alrightbuckaroo]

our love's a protective poison

Yet another cross post from ao3 that I have needed on this blog for months now. Can't believe it took me this long to move this one here! Anyways, hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it <3

Gwyneth Morgan loves her son; that is an uncontested fact.

Tyler Kennedy Stand is his father’s son; that is also, an uncontested fact.

Gwyn loves her son, even though he has a tendency to act just like his father. Gwyn loves her son, even when he has a tendency to act just like his father.

Owen Strand had always been a pusher, always found a way to push things down.

When he and Gwyn were married, he would start the day with 50 push-ups. He would stretch the limits of their trash can, pushing down the grime until no more space could be filled. He pushed down trauma, suppressed it. Owen Strand is still a pusher, but for a moment Owen Strand beams more of a fighter.

He fought fires, he fought demons. He fought, and fought, and fought, and fought.

Eventually, he started fighting with her. 

Gwyneth Morgan had always been a pusher; always found a way to push through things.

When her job announced a company wide lay-off, she pushed through the bad days until the days were good again. When she realized that she and Owen might not make it, she pushed until she couldn’t push anymore.

When she found TK, strung out and barely lucid in that drug-den; she pushed the confides of her love as far as she could. Then she pushed herself even more.

TK was a little bit different.

TK Strand had always been a runner, always found a way to run.

He played little league, at the request of himself, but maybe also Owen too.

Gwyn remembers the first time he hit a home-run. Owen and Gwyn watched him run around the bases. He slid into first, though he didn’t really need to. Gwyn knew it was going to be a nightmare getting those dirt stains out; but when TK smiled up at her, she decided that it was worth it.

TK was in winter choir; always vying for a solo. Gwyn would hear him practice his runs, day in and day out. Gwyn won’t deny that listening to him singing all day every day became a bit grating. But, when TK got the solo and saw her sitting there in the audience, video camera pulled up. Well, the smile he smiled was worth it. Even if it was a little dimmed due to the empty seat next to her.

TK was a runner. He ran, and ran, and ran, and ran.

Until eventually, he ran from her.

Maybe Gwyn should of seen it coming. With both her and Owen being pushers, maybe it makes sense that he was more of a runner. He saw what pushing did to the both of them, straining them, even if it was in the best way.

Maybe running had always made more sense.

—

One day, Owen calls her, tells her that TK is in a coma. Again.

He tells her that it’s going to be okay.

Gwyn laughs in disbelief, the sound jagged. “How can you be so sure?”

“He’s pushed through before, and he’ll push through again.” Owen answers, simply. “You know, he gets it from you.”

Gwyn considers it, maybe TK is a pusher after all.

—

Gwyn watches on as Jonah, TK and Owen display family is never just blood. She watches, knowing that there’s a special type of love she felt for each of them at some point in her life. Gwyn watches TK; his eyes mirroring his father’s.

Carlos is standing next to her; the silence they’re both sitting in comfortable but leaving Gwyn wanting more.

“He gets it from his dad, you know?” Gwyn mutters to Carlos, taking a sip of her lemonade. “Pushing things away before they push him away.”

“Gwyn,” Carlos feels like his breath has been robbed from him. “You have to know, I would never,”

“No,” Gwyn reaches out, places her warm hand against Carlos’ arm to steady him. “I know. I just need you to know. He loves you, no matter how much he might try to push you away, he loves you and he knows that he does.”

Carlos watches TK. “How can you be so sure?”

Gwyn smiles, “He is his father’s child.” Gwyn shrugs, “And maybe his mother’s too.”

Gwyn continues to watch TK and Owen, “I don’t know, I just think sometimes he has so much love inside, he thinks he needs to push it down. Don’t worry, you’ll always be the one he’ll want to run back to.”

Carlos knows Gwyn is telling him this for TK’s sake; but maybe she knows Carlos needs to hear it too. “Thank you, Gwyn.” “Anytime, just,” Gwyn takes another sip of her lemonade. “Call me if you ever need anything? Okay?”

Carlos hears the unspoken offer. “Okay.”

—

Carlos is sitting in the dark, watching over TK as his chest moves up and down. How do you comfort someone who’s mother has just died.

Carlos softly walks into the living room, continuing to sit in the dark. He has his phone in his hand. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say, or how to help. He doesn’t know what to do during a time like this.

He unlocks his phone and calls the only person he can think of.

Carlos listens to the phone ring on the other line; knowing no one will pick up. Eventually, he’s greeted by the voicemail.

“Gwyn,” He releases her name with a shaky breath. “You said I could call you if I ever need anything and right now I need you more than ever.” He listens to the whine of the phone call; the silence uncomfortable. “I don’t know what to do.” 

He knows he’ll never get an answer back; but maybe just saying the words out loud is what he needed. He doesn’t know what to do but he doesn’t need to feel weighed down by the unsaid truth of it all anymore. He hangs up the call.

He gently paces around the living room before he finds himself staring at a photo. He looks at Owen, Gwyn, TK, Jonah and himself.

“No it’s fine.” Carlos had argued when Owen asked him to jump in. “It’s a family photo.”

“Exactly.” Gwyn agreed. “So get in here.”

Carlos picks up the photo and smiles to himself. He remembers what Gwyn once told him, about how TK can be overflowing with love because Gwyn was always overflowing with love. Love for Owen, love for Jonah, and love for TK.

Maybe the best thing Carlos can do, is to keep that love flowing.

[nats-revival]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: nepo baby!business owner!ellie williams x afab!business owner!reader

tags: smut, fingering (r receiving), pet names/name calling?? (dirty girl, pretty, good girl, baby), slight praise??, god why is tagging so hard, mild language, unethical business practices??, thoughts are green, ellie lowk an asshole, but both reader and ellie are pretty harsh to eachother, maybe that’s it, bare with me if i forget something pls. 😭🙏

a/n: i wrote this directly on tumblr bc i did NAWT feel like pulling up google docs today saur the format might be a lil off. i was watching this show on netflix called ‘locked up’, and like an episode from season two is what inspired this!!! 😜 the show is good honestly it just drags on sometimes!!! ive actually never actually written smut any times before this (believe it or not hehe) anyways, let’s get into it!!!

P.S - DEDICATED TO @sweetysaccharine YAWP YAWP!!!! <333 HOPE U ENJOY POOKIEEEE

P.P.S - don’t look at the typos or i will find you (IM JOKING)

rumors traveled fast, and sometimes it wasn’t always good. for one, they could be infuriating. a company you’d been toe to toe with for.. quite some time had gotten a new ceo. some young girl. articles appeared online about some kinda nepotism scandal. the photo on the top of the article displayed a photo of the previous ceo — joel miller, and the new owner, ellie. they looked happy. but why were they accused of something as harmful as nepotism? long story short, joel turned his brother down for the position (even though he was the better option) so ellie could have it. favoritism of sorts. but god was she infuriating! her stupid, flashy displays of wealth (that probably didn’t even belong to her) made you so mad! and also, her arrogance and her constant need to compete with you was very infuriating aswell. you had influence, she had money. wouldn’t these things be considered as a double kill in some perfect world? yes. would you ever even consider working with someone like her? absolutely not. you couldn’t even stand being in the same vicinity as her whenever you two ended up at the same social events.

imagine that terrible, ugly feeling of anger that coursed hot through your veins once finding out she’d brought possibly one of the biggest clients you could’ve ever had. it was one thing for her to shove it in your face that she was wealthy but this? she’d completely overstepped. storming your way through the companies large building, you find yourself at her offices door knocking like a madwoman. “open the goddamn door, williams!” you yell as you attempt to open the door on your own. she doesn’t say anything, but you’re just almost certain she’s smirking or something. she opens the door with this.. look. it was weird. a perfect mixture of condescending, arrogance, and ‘i know what i did and i don’t regret it’. “are you insane?” “mm.. yeah. i guess so.” you laugh, dumbfounded by her. “how bout you come into my office for a seat and a drink?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “let’s handle this civilly, shall we? knowing you, i have the feeling that this could get real ugly.” she pushed open the door with that same condescending/arrogant smile. of course, reluctantly, you walk inside. maybe this could be resolved civilly.

the sound of some smooth music played. it sounded like micheal buble or something. she walks around her desk to pour you a glass of bourbon. she hands it to and you just hold it. “it’s not poisoned, see?” she says before taking a sip. you take a sip and of it before putting the glass on her desk. “so, i realized that.. i have something you want.” the something being that client. “why else would i be here? that was a really petty move and you know that.” she chuckled. “yknow, i could just.. refer them back to you.” initially, you’re in disbelief. ellie? being generous? no way. she must’ve completely lost it. “but! it comes with a price.” of course it does. nothing was free, not in this economy. you kept your expectations low for this very reason. you raise an eyebrow at her. “we could work together. become business partners.”

she turns her music up a little. she dances her way over to you, circling you a bit. “no chance, ellie. how could i ever work with someone like you?” she chuckled again. “why wouldn’t you work with ‘someone like me’? you have something that i want aswell.” “what?” “power. influence. however you may wanna word it. i admire that.” it had to be some sick joke. why would she wanna work with you? “shouldn’t all your daddys money be more than enough to keep you in a position of power?” you quarry, then crossing your arms. a part of you didn’t believe that she’d been the one asking you for help.

“just think about it. me, giving you money. you, drawing power hungry clients in with that pretty face of yours. we’d work together like yin and yang.” she proposed before taking another sip of the drink in her glass. that was her giving a go at an analogy. was it good? she didn’t know. did she care? not at all. “you bullshitting me, williams?” “not at all. all you gotta do.. is say ‘yes’. cmon.” she offers her hand, those pretty slender fingers and that tattoo that peeking from underneath that black button up shirt were just so.. enticing. you were in your head, just thinking. was this a good idea? could i trust her? she probably has bad intentions. but she was so tempting. this had to be one of the seven deadly sins or something.

she snaps infront of your face. “where’d you go?” she asks. “nowhere.” you respond quickly. “so, you taking the offer or not? or.. will i have to convince you?” she takes a step closer to you. temptation taints your brain.

you’re not in control of your thoughts anymore. ellie was.

her hand seeks solace on your waist. “shouldn’t finding business like this be considered illegal?” you whisper to her. “im not a law abiding woman. and quite frankly, i don’t give two shits.” maybe it wouldn’t be illegal if nobody knew. but all you thought about was her. how she smells. how she’s looking at you. how her hands feel on your body. you can’t stop yourself. your lips crash down onto hers. your fingers tangle in her auburn hair as the both of you kiss passionately. she brings you to her desk, knocking stuff over as she sat you on her desk.

glass shattered, pictures were knocked out of their frames, and her computer mouse was.. somewhere. your back arches into her touch as you let out a soft moan into her mouth. she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. in the competition of dominance between your tongues, she reigns supreme. her hands slide up your body and end up on your oxford button up shirt. she doesn’t unbutton it, she rips that shit open. “i’ll get you a new one.” she mumbled as the buttons from the shirt scatter across the room.

“you’d better. or else id have to come back here and get it by force.” “oh please, you’ll be back here for more reasons than a goddamn shirt.” she said as she peppers kisses down to your jawline, then your neck. “don’t leave any marks.” “but why?” “oh, i dunno, cause i don’t want anyone asking me who i had sex with?” “who gives a shit? your workers get paid to look the other way, don’t they?”

well, she makes a good point. and you can’t argue with a point as valid as that. she sinks her teeth into a sweet spot of your neck, making you moan out as she runs her tongue along the new mark. she sticks her tongue out again to run it all the way down to one of your boobs. the sensation makes you shiver. “wore this pretty bra for me, didntcha? you were just expecting this. you must’ve wanted me to touch you like this, didn’t you? dirty girl. must’ve been waiting for me to bend you over this table.” she rambled all while stripping you of your bra, then leaving soft kisses and licks across the valley of your breasts.

she takes her time, making you wait for it. she knew what she was doing to you, and she was going to make you wait. “ellie, you’re going soo slow! you know what i want.” you whine as she leaves kisses and bites all over your exposed skin. “tell me what you want or you’ll get nothing. tell me where you want me.” she whispered. “i want your fingers.” “where?” “you know where.” “tell me or you get nothing.” you hesitate for a moment before saying feebly. “in.. in my pussy..” “that’s a good girl.”

she smiles as she pushes her hands into your slacks. she could feel your wetness. “i got you this worked up, huh? who knew little miss perfect could get this wet over me, a ‘nepo baby’?” she teased with a cocky smile. she slowly slides your slacks and underwear all the way down to your ankles before she applies a delicious amount of pressure to your clit. you gasp, your hand wrapping around her wrist. “oh, you like that do you, huh? you want more? fucking beg for it. cmon.” she applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing small and soft circles as her fingers ghost your sopping entrance. “oh— please ellie, i need more. give me more.” “gonna take more than that, baby.” you whine when she suddenly takes all that pressure away from you.

you let out another whine as you attempt to rut against her hand. her free hand slaps your thigh as she shakes her head in disapproval. “none of that. keep still. you get nothing until you beg like a good girl.” “please, please. ill do anything. just please touch me.” she chuckles at you. she found it cute how you were so desperate to chase that pleasure. “god, you’re so desperate. you need it so.. goddamn bad, don’t you?” she lets out a grunt in the middle of her sentence as she suddenly plunged into your pussy.

as she moves her fingers, she groans at how wet her you were. first she starts with middle finger, then adding her ring finger. her long fingers are hitting that sweet spot in you. she was making you see stars. “listen to yourself. look at ‘er, she’s crying for me.” she coos as she speeds her pace. you moan out. “watch me, baby.” you slowly look down at her fingers plunging in and out of you. sounds of wet squelching fill your ears. you bite your lip and you toss your head back as you let out a moan. you grind yourself down onto her fingers, chasing that wonderful and blissful orgasm.

you felt a pressure building up in your stomach. your eyes were fluttering open and shut. everytime you looked away, she stopped. you made sure to not look away. once that pressure in your stomach felt like it was gonna release, your moans became more broken. “ellie! ellie— oh fuck! ellie! im gonna cum! don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you say between moans as you bring your hand back down to hold her wrist in place.

“oh yeah? gonna cum? let go for me. make a mess on my fingers. cmon. i know you can do it.” she said as she kept her pace at that same one that was making you see stars. she’d been rambling something to you, talking you through it as she watched you cum all over her fingers. she helps you ride out your orgasm, a slight tremble in your legs becoming more apparent.

“what do we say?” “thank you.” she smiled as she pulled her fingers out. the sudden loss makes you whine. she sucks her fingers clean and you watch as her tongue runs across the length of her fingers. “still being a tease, williams?” you ask as you look at her while she does it. “mm.. well no, i dont think so. just savouring how good you taste.” when she was finally satisfied, she drops her hands. “so, you finally ready to stop being so stubborn and take the deal?” “not a chance if it means we get to have sex like this.” you respond with a chuckle. “maybe you need to be fucked again, hm?” she ask with a smile.

needless to say, you’d went another time, and on the third you fucked ellie. eventually you come to some sort of agreement after you’d been laid on her leather sofa, naked and feeling like you were floating. the only question you had now is what the hell had you gotten into. “will this turn into a scandal?” you ask. “.. probably not if we keep this under wraps.” she responds as she puts her head in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. “plus, yknow i can just pay the media off right? they won’t say anything. not a peep.” she reassured as she smiled softly.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Eyes Never Lie || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by me :) pls give cred if used DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: Leyla confronts Daemon about Rhaenyra minutes before Aegon is baptised.

a/n: inspired by the episode from the crown where Elizabeth and Philip (Matt) argue about his loyalty. also i dont think that they baptised the children it this period of time but lets just imagine they did for the sake of the story.

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Why do you look at her like that?” Her voice was strained as she sniffled. The couple had been arguing for about 20 minutes now, the topic? Rhaenyra and Daemon. “Like what?” Daemon spat, fed up about the argument that was going to happen one way or another.

Ever since the young Hightower gave birth to their 3rd child, and Rhaenyra coincidentally came back to court the same day, things felt different. Different between Leyla and Daemon, different between Daemon and Rhaenyra.

“Like-like you’re in love with her!” She furrowed her eyebrows as her lips quivered, she didn’t mean to blurt that out but she was anticipating for her husband’s answer. Daemon physically paused hearing what his wife had to say. “Say something. Please, Daemon” Her voice cracked.

She gave him everything. All of her. And most importantly, she loved him. After everything they went through, facing parenthood together, the ups and down of their marriage. She refused to believe that he had let her go so quickly.

Daemon sighed, massaging his forehead with his freehand. “Leyla, I don’t want to talk about this right now, please my love.” She felt her heart break into a million pieces. Daemon pushing her away stung her. “B-but why? I want to talk about this right now!”

“Please-“ He was cut off by a knock at the door, “Sister, hurry up! it’s all most starting” Alicent called out from the other side of the door. “We’re coming!” Leyla calls back as Daemon looks at his wife with saddened eyes. “I can’t even with you-“ Leyla quickly turned around leaving him there.

Whether or not he chose to attend his son’s baptism and be a supportive and loving husband was completely up to him. The brunette quickly walked to the nursery where the children were. She scooped Aegon from the handmaiden and let out a breath. “You alright, my lady?” Alysanne places a hand on Leyla’s shoulder. She didn’t answer, only looked at her and walked off.

~

The ceremony had begun and there was no sight of Daemon. Leyla felt like a fool infront of everyone. She could feel all their judgemental looks because her husband wasn’t there standing by her side. She looked to Rhaenyra, the Targaryen Princess not even looking her in the eye.

Just before Aegon was about to be blessed, Daemon had slipped into place beside Leyla and their children. She felt a huge sense of relief, atleast the looks would stop, but it didn’t make her forget about the argument they had just mere minutes ago.

Leyla handed Aegon to the maester and looked back at Daemon who was already staring back at her, his expression unreadable. After Aegon was blessed, she was given back to the young Hightower. She looked up at Rhaenyra before kissing her son’s forehead and giving him to Daemon, urging him to cradle Aegon.

Leyla’s eyes connected with her father’s. Otto just staring at Daemon in a gaze she couldn’t quite explain. She always noticed how Rhaenyra’s expression would change whenever Daemon was holding his child, and Leyla wanted to get the satisfaction of watching her watch him holding their son. As expected, Rhaenyra stared at her uncle before quickly looking away.

After the christening, there a celebration was held for Leyla and Daemon’s third child. After bidding her children off to their wet nurse, she approached her father with a tired sigh. “Daughter, how do you like the celebration?” He nodded his head at Leyla.

“Delightful,” She sarcastically answers, taking a cup from one of the servants and downing the liquid. Otto looked at her in disapproval as Leyla’s eyes wander around the room. Her eyes focused on her husband. He was talking to someone, but she couldn’t see who it was as he was blocking the person.

“How is your Husband, I heard you haven’t been waking up to him?” Leyla cleared her throat. She had no idea how he knew that. But it was true, she had not woken up to her husband in their bed for quite some time after she came back.

“Daemon is fine. And He’s just…. busy with things, that’s all.” She smiled fakely at her father, not wanting to alarm him that their marriage was not going smoothly. “Hmm. Busy with things, or busy with someone?” Otto Hightower was no fool.

The two stared at each other for abit, Leyla didn’t know how to reply to that. She only gulped and looked back to where Daemon was. He was busying himself with their children.

“Excuse me father,” She smoothed down her dress before approaching Daemon. “Can we talk, Husband?” She softly says as Daemon looks up form Baelon. “I’m occupied Leyla, can we talk later-“ “No.” She quickly cut him off making herself and Daemon surprised at how quickly she interjected. “Children, go back to Alyssane please” Daemon drops his hand from Baelon with a sigh as the children kiss their father and mother goodbye.

Without uttering another word, Leyla turned on her heels and Daemon followed. They both walked to Daemon’s study. He softly closed the door behind him as he watches Leyla, her back to him. “The only person I have every loved is you.” She spoke, breaking the silence as she finally turns to look at him, eyes glassy.

“And can you honestly look me in the eyes and say the same?” A tear rolled down Leyla’s pink cheek. Daemon stood there, fists clenched. “What is this about Leyla?” He softly spoke, eyes trained on his feet. “You know exactly what this is about Daemon” She stormed up to him so that they were at close proximity.

“I’m talking about her.” Daemon softly chuckled. “You are paranoid. Nothing is happening between her and me.” She rolled her eyes, “Paranoid? Yes, I may be paranoid but I have good damn reason to be! Before we wed. You loved Rhaenyra, you loved your niece. And now she’s back in court.”

“What’s to say you go back to your old ways? I know you Targaryen’s have queer customs.” Leyla folded her arms as tears continued to cascade down her cheeks. “Leyla, please. We have our children, I chose to forget about her a long time ago I found out I was going to be a father.” He raised his voice. “I don’t believe you,” She whispered before pushing past him and opening the door to leave.

Her eyes widen in horror as she stumbles back. Rhaenyra was stood there outside his study. “Leyla-“ “What are you doing here?” She interrupted her as Rhaenyra’s face drops, Daemon came up behind her, his hand resting on her waist—making her slightly flinch to which Daemon ignored—to see what the commotion was about.

“Nyra.” He said, surprised. “Sorry, It’s been quite some time since I returned, the Red Keep is quite big, easy to get lost in” She chuckled as Leyla didn’t believe one word. She had grown up in this castle. There was no way she simply got lost and ended up infront of Daemon’s study.

“Well, I don’t know what business you wish to do here, infront of my Husband’s study.” She raised an eyebrow at the Targaryen Princess. Although their significant height difference, Leyla did not falter. Rhaenyra awkwardly smiles. “Yes, my apologies.” She looks at Daemon briefly before walking off, the two watching her figure leave.

“She’s lived her whole life here and was only gone for what? 3 years? I don’t believe her” She scoffs before walking away from Daemon and returning back to the throne room. It was safe to say that Leyla gave Daemon a well deserved silent treatment for awhile.

[kaylatoonz]

Dreamwalker AU

This AU was inspired by a weird dream/nightmare I had a while ago and something intriguing I found in the Sonic X series. Apparently, in one of the subs or dub of Sonic X, it was mentioned that Amy and Sonic have a psychic link with each other that lets them sense when one of them is in danger (I'm not making this up a swear, I can't find the clip/episode for the life of me!)

Context:

Sonic never usually had dreams or nightmares, when he did he dreamed he was alone in a white void until he woke up. Sonic never gave these dreams, much thought until the night he arrived on earth alone, he dreamt of a girl. On the night he arrived on earth the white void he often dreamed of felt extra unwelcoming. The loneliness even in his dreams was too much for the little hedgehog so he wept and called out for anyone to stop this feeling.

His cries were answered by another lonely hedgehog appearing to console him. Since then they would meet in their dreams every so often to comfort each other or to simply talk. They eventually start to have a bit of fun when they discover they can materialize objects or landmarks into their dreamscape.

For a while, Sonic was satisfied with recreating environments and exploring them with Amy, but as time went by, it became harder to shove away that one thought that was bothering him, was Amy even real? As a kid, he thought it didn't bother him too much whether she was real or not, who wouldn’t want a cool imaginary friend? Now that he was older, the thought that she was possibly made up to keep himself sane bothered him more and more each time they met. Ultimately his frustration leads to him lashing out at Amy when she tells him she couldn’t come to earth to meet him in person. Sonic desperately wanted some semblance of proof that she was real but she couldn’t give him any reinsurance that mattered at the time. Unfortunately, for both of them, the discord temporarily severed their bond, preventing them from meeting in future dreams.

He mourns the loss of his friend whether she was real or not deeply hurt him and made him regret ever arguing with her. With each dream, he tried calling out to her, summoning her favorite places, and even recreating her but nothing seemed to work. Eventually, the hurt became too much for him so he forces himself to forget his possibly imaginary friend returning to his lonely life in Greenhills. That is until the events of the first movie.

Two years later(after the events of the first, second movie, and possibly the third movie) sonic is now living with Tom and Maddie, his parents alongside his two new brothers Tails and Knuckles. Although Sonic now had everything he ever wanted, his mind couldn't help but wander back to the mysterious pink hedgehog of his dreams from time to time. Whenever that happened, he would push those thoughts aside to focus on more important things like his family or the next big adventure. This seems to put those unresolved feelings at bay until he receives a chilling dream/vision of Amy. She didn’t feel right, she didn’t look right, she didn’t even greet him the way he always knew her for. She only looked through him with eyes that weren’t her own, whispering a mixture of a plea for help and a warning.

“Chaos is coming…”

[gemrocknerd]

I'm an animation student now in a limited program. 90 whole humans, all tight knit and bright eyed and excited to be doing what we worked our asses off to do. And while that's awesome, and I'm super grateful to have had passed portfolio and been accepted into this program, I don't think there's any real art classes or warnings that can prepare you for what really comes with this whole thing. And I don't just mean in like the... typical young "holy shit this is the real world" way, I just mean the way things are now alone. I knew that the real world will be a culture shock, but this isn't a culture shock. It's something else.

Your classmates and yourself are surrounded by this perpetual knowledge that things are weirder now. All of you want to do different things, and all of you have the same dream of creating a story that consumes and inspires others as much as the stories you grew up with consumed and inspired you. Every single person in that room has an OC, or a grandiose story in their mind they've had since they were a kid; even the professors. But there's this understanding that, even with all the absolute, complete and utter passion you may have for this concept; there is no promise under the current environment of late stage capitalism that promises any of it.

We talk about it all the time. Generative AI slop, theft of animators time and work, the impossibility of being hired as companies push out want ads without ever having the intention of actually hiring them. Hell, Disney just a few weeks ago sent out to hundreds, if not thousands of applicants, that they just weren't doing any hiring. No one got hired, not one, out of everyone who applied; and they just closed it off saying "sorry, yeah, no one got hired. haha!" And call it potential industry nepotism, because there's a high chance if there was a hiring, it was inside the company. But this happens everywhere and with everything, and if there's not that failure, then there's always some clause in the fine print telling you that all your work now gets to be chugged into a soulless machine so that they can keep making money off your work after they've laid you off. It's like watching this whole thing crumble and you, a lowly college student who hasn't even learned how to use goddamn Maya without wanting to die, are paying witness to the already pipe dream you worked years toward just be... permanently disfigured.

And yeah, the Animation Guild is on strike; that's an extreme bout of hope. But where even does art come into any of this now? We don't have the same freedom and capability to create that we had before. People consume slop because they just want to consume something, anything, just to forget how fucking miserable everything is. And you're sitting here knowing just how much potential is missed, knowing that streaming services gut what could be incredible series and cartoons just for the sake of it; limit them to a handful of episodes and throw them to the gutter the moment they have to pay too many residuals. You know everything that you could create, no matter how incredible, could be reduced to absolute garbage and there would be nothing you can do about it; because the people who have the money, don't want to spend that money on a dream. Your life's dream and work could become reduced to a couple thousand view YouTube essay on mediocre writing and a lazy concept.

And I'm so tired of being aware of this. I can tell we all are because we all are just... throwing ourselves into this work. We've already had the comments; "you guys are one of the most respectful bunch we've had," or "i'm really excited about this cohort," or subtly telling us that we're almost too aware of where the industry is now and how little we really stand out. We're realistic.

It's harrowing. And it sucks.

I know there's way worse world issues going on right now and most of them tie into why art is on the decline as a whole. But part of me keeps this constant hope that, maybe, the student sitting behind me will get to make their story into a reality someday; or the student sitting beside me will be able to make a living doing what she loves. And maybe the environment will change the more I learn.

Everything is sink or swim and I really pray to god this current generation of animation students brings buoys.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Criminal Minds November Prompt List - Falling in Love

All photo credits at the end

Good evening loves! We made it to November! his prompt list is inspired by the always amazing, @imagining-in-the-margins, who always make the best prompt lists. I won’t write for all of my prompts, but I might for a few. I thought I should balance out the whump pain from last month with some romance and fluff this month! So the theme for November is falling in love (pun intended).

The rules for using these prompts are that there are no rules! You could use any Criminal Minds characters, OCs, reader inserts, etc. You could draw, write, make mood boards, or imagine anything else. I have included 30 prompts for each day of the month. I also added some character/episode-specific prompts too. If any of these prompts inspire you to create, I’d love to be tagged to see what you have made. This is all just for fun. I wish everyone a great start to the month. Please know I’m proud of you wherever you are right now - Love Levi ❤️

You can find all the prompts below the cut [also, please read the tags to avoid any triggering content in the prompts.] 

General Prompts

Character A meets an attractive stranger, Character B, at the local library while volunteering to teach the elderly how to use a computer. 

Character A’s best friend needs a bone marrow transplant, one of the donor matches is a mysterious stranger. 

Character A’s pregnancy cravings are all pumpkin-spice-themed. Character B makes sure they have whatever they want. 

After a late-night clubbing, Character A is followed to their car. They send a message to someone they think is a friend but turns out to be a stranger, character B. 

Character A can’t believe Character B still drinks iced coffee in the fall. 

Character A’s kid is really excited about Pokemon Go and ends up running face-first into a stranger, Character B. Character A tries to apologize but gets tongue-tied once they see Character B. 

Character A and B both reach for the same top in the thrift shop. 

Character A thought they had lost a significant family heirloom piece of jewelry, that is, until they saw it walking down the road with an attractive stranger. 

Character A finds staying sober during Thanksgiving dinner with all the arguing hard, but Character B’s hand on their thigh under the table is helping a little. 

Character A tries to do Thanksgiving themself for the first time this year, things don’t seem to be going well until Character B shows up early. 

The power gets shut off during Friendsgiving and alternative plans have to be made. 

Is there an age when you have to stop playing the game Seven Minutes in Heaven? Characters A and B don’t think so. 

Character A finds a wallet on the ground. When they call Character B to return it, they get a stern warning about calling a restricted FBI number. 

Character A is old friends with Character B. When Character A gets falsely accused of a crime, they reach out to their old friend who now works at the FBI. 

A one-night stand between Characters A and B turns out to be harder to forget than either of them expected. 

Character A was all for monogamy until they met Character B. 

Character A gets pushed into a near-freezing river and Character B jumps in after them. 

What was thought to be unrequited love turns out to be the total opposite. 

A BAU kid has their first relationship and the parent(s) try to guide them through it.

Characters A and B duke it out at the FBI pie-baking contest held every year near Thanksgiving. 

Character A decides to run their first Turkey Trot and meets Character B. 

Hanahaki fic trope. 

Character A is averse to a _________ fall food, so Character B tries to get Character A to admit it’s good. 

A case that takes place during Thanksgiving. 

Character A takes their child to a petting zoo, the kid now wants a pony for Christmas. 

Characters A and B argue about when it is too early to put up Christmas decor. 

A cozy night in fic with hot cocoa, a movie, and maybe something more. 

Character A can’t light the fire for smores, and Character B comes to the rescue. 

The BAU goes non-traditional for their Friendsgiving celebration this year. 

Nothing beats the feeling of coming home.

Dialog Prompts

"If I'd never met you... I wouldn't have realized how much of the world I was missing."

"I HATE YOU!" "But I still love you too..."

"Time has a weird way with love, like it's playing a trick on us."

"_________ of course I'd kiss you." "What?!" "What?"

"_________ I need you to start being kind to yourself. I can't do it for you."

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

Tag List: @mandarinmoons @geminitapestry @spencerreidsreads @hotchfiles @silk-spun

Want to be added to my tag list? Please check out this post (linked) 

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Photo Credits

Top: Left (@autumn-gloryy) Center (@thelightview) Right (@3rdtech)

Middle: Left (@academic-vampire) Center (@fear0phobia) Right (@whereshadowslive)

Bottom: Left (@reidgif) Center (@cozytayz) Right (@spookyasmr)

[lmk-aus-galore]

Cinema Sins/Wins Rip off of Lego Monkie Kid

‘Duplicatnation’

Inspired by @satansaidmyturnintheh3llscape

Rules:

-I won’t be counting Animation Mistakes, because Idk how to do that, and I myself am a beginner animator (more like incredibly amateur, to the point I’m asking my sister for help) Unless of course the Animation is obviously and clearly having a mistake for me to watch. (Or it is said in the wiki) The other reason is because I don’t want to keep repeating a scene just to check for an animation mistake.

-I also won’t be counting flashbacks as ‘mistakes’ because most of them are based on bias.

-I’ll be formatting it like this

-Neutral

-Sin

-Win

-Most of this is Commentary, so there won’t be a last sentence nor win or sin counter.

-This is mostly for fun, no need to get offended.

Alright I’ll be placing the rules every single time, without further ado, let’s get into the episode

———————————————————————————

-Intro

-._.

-Already we’re having a good start to the episode, having a look at our dear boy’s daily life.

-And already we see the side effects of being a people pleaser…

-And already we can see the negative effects it’s having on MK-

-I do wonder if that paint’s gonna last in the water…heck what does the water look like with all the painting he’s doing?

-So is it normal for people to go at the arcade every night?

-Stress in a TV show, this is why kids, you don’t overbook and you can always say no.

-‘Wow MK, you look like hot garbage’ that line always throws me off for some reason, Tang was brutally honest here-

-Also he’s here again, so he just comes there everyday…I feel worried for his stomach-

-That bowl of noodles is obviously MK’s breakfast, no way in hell is Pigsy gonna let him eat that.

-I always wonder, if the place is so busy, then why is the shop always empty?

-‘You’re pushing yourself too hard MK, working all day, partying all night, painting boats?’ And this my friend is the reason you’re not a dad, you’re a mom.

-But in all seriousness does anyone not notice that for MK or…?

-‘I don’t wanna let my friends down y’know’ establishing the character development right away.

-I’m still wondering why Mei is partying every night at the arcade.

-It’s specifically the arcade even- like they don’t even go anywhere else-like seriously girl how are you not bored yet?

-MK forgetting Wukong’s abilities makes him more life-like cause damn even I don’t know all his abilities, like, we know the main ones are in the show, but in the original JTTW he’s confirmed to have the ability to revive the dead-

-‘One of Monkey King’s 72 transformations’ wait, is that true? Or is this a mistake? Does this even count as a transformation?

-The animation is so beautiful :3

-Glad they changed it to blow, in one translation, Wukong had to chew on his own hair and turn it into a hair ball before making it into a monkey, that would have been unsanitary to be honest-

-I’m also guessing they changed it to blow as in ‘Blow life unto it’ Idk, I’ve seen a lot of legends in Asia that tell about the creation of people and how Gods literally have to ‘Blow air into them’ to bring them to life.

-Foreshadowing

-Tiny little detail that not everything about the animation is copy and pasted.

-Love how Tang slowly gets concerned over time- perhaps this is how he just becomes that other parental figure in his life?

-Another tiny detail, both MK’s don’t leave at the same time.

-Man, Tang’s really chill compared to his past life-

-So…when delivery MK was made…was the reason he ate all that food was because this MK was skipping breakfast? Because he’s taking those orders surprisingly fast…

-I LOVE Party MK

-Again, Tang why are you still here?! That amount of noodles can’t be good for your stomach.

-Notable detail, Pigsy squeals when scared.

-I know some people will call this out as fat shaming, but they may be trying to do the old 2015-2019 format of cartoons. Still this might be offensive to some people.

-See this is why you shouldn’t constantly work someone to perfection.

-Also Porty MK got a point Mei, no one parties this much- So kinda miscommunication there?

-Haha

-Ok that is a concerning amount of hair loss…

-Although Delivery MK is pretty adorable, he acts like a baby :3

-‘I don’t know.’ PFFT HAHAAH- it’s funny cause it’s never really said in the book how Wukong got rid of his clones.

-Delivery MK confirms that even the clones can lift the staff.

-The fact the only wavy kung fu MK knew was that one move Wukong taught him last episode.

-Hairball

-I kinda feel bad for these clones tbh.

-‘OG MK in the House Yo!’ ‘I don’t even know what that means!’ Implies that MK would have learned ‘90’s’ or ‘party slang’ if he kept partying with Mei.

-You know, MK being evil is terrifying tbh.

-‘You’re really bad at making clones by the way’ Sorry Mei- but uhm, I think the clones are him, just in a much deeper level than you’d expect.

-Why did you need that many clones?!

-Ok, first off how was this legal? Secondly, did Porty MK bribe the owner or something? Thirdly, How the hell did you even make this?!

-Oof, played yerself.

-The fact the hair just…sticks.

-‘Did you learn your lesson?’ Yeah, it’s MK learn to say no, and Everyone, ask someone else, he isn’t the only person in the world. Seriously guys, from what I see you only overwork him.

Yeah! Sorry this came late-

[doomalade]

Would you like to elaborate on Yang being the real protagonist? I kind of like the idea and I am highly intrigued.

Hello and yes I would!

Most people would say that Ruby is the protagonist, I mean the show is kinda named after her.

But I think that Yang is more involved in the plot and has much more development and interest about her. I’ll breakdown why I think that volume by volume.

V1: Yang is accepted into Beacon, this is very exciting for her especially since Ruby has also been accepted. Yang is excited for her little sister and reassures her that Ruby will love it at Beacon. She has confidence in Ruby, including her leadership skills but still worries for how her sister is adjusting. Jaundice happens, now getting to the important part. With Blake revealing she’s a Faunus and running away, Yang is actively helping out to find Blake while confronting Weiss about her bigotry. Ruby is having her fun times with Penny but Yang is actively attempting to solve the conflict of finding Blake and making Weiss apologize for what she said.

V2: Yang starts to take an even more active role this Volume with RWBY trying to find leads on the White Fang. She goes to Junior’s Bar to get info on Roman’s involvement last Volume which also calls back nicely to the Yellow trailer. Meanwhile Ruby was just kinda hanging out with Weiss. RWBY bring down the mech and stop Roman before Neo appears and gets Roman out before he’s arrested. Before the dance, Yang would be the one to talk to Blake about not letting her goal of stopping Roman and the White Fang destroy her. Once more, Ruby is just hanging out with Weiss. Yang reveals more about her character along with Summer and Raven. Ruby has only really been seen at Summer’s grave, but Yang seems to remember Summer and be deeply affected by losing two mothers. (Also I will die on the hill that is “Red Like Roses II is a Yang song”) During the train fight, Yang gets a nemesis in Neo, and further mystery is grown about Raven. Not to forget the maybe sorta no longer canon post credit scene that had Raven talking to Yang. Not any hints of Summer being alive with Ruby. Raven and Yang.

V3: It’s Yang that progresses through the Vytal Tournament, not Ruby. Yang is the one that 1v2s FNKI, and gains nemesis #2, Mercury. She’s framed by Emerald and has to come to terms with not being believed and eliminated from the tournament. During the Fall, Yang searches frantically for Ruby but ends up going to Blake where we get the scene of Adam cutting off her arm. Ruby makes it out of the Fall with a headache, Yang lost an arm. This restarts Yang’s hero journey going into V4.

V4 is Yang’s Call To Action, Refusal of Call, Mentor, and Crossing the Threshold. While Ruby has adventures with JNR, Nora and Ren take center stage for character development. Yang struggles with her PTSD and learning how to live with her disability. The Call to Action is Yang’s robotic arm, but she promptly Refuses the Call and gives into her depressive episode. As the Volume progresses, Tai serves as her Mentor and pushes her to get out of the house and find Ruby. This is the Crossing the Threshold.

V5 is Yang and Raven’s volume. Ruby might be giving Oscar inspirational speeches but this Volume sees Yang completing her mission and tracking down Raven. Yang finds Raven, reunites with Weiss, and is given what is arguably the most important advice in the show. Always question others so you can make your own choices. This applies to Ozma, and the concept of Oz’s magic, war against Salem, and reincarnation are all revealed to Yang. Ruby only gets a bit of magic and the reincarnation. At the Battle of Haven, Yang is the one to chase after Raven and confront her about being a coward. Yang completes her arc with Raven and is the one to walk out of the vault with the Lamp.

I’ll try to get to V6-8 later but that’s all I have for now.

[comicweek]

Just to get this out of the way at the top, this isn’t really the space for me to critique the promotional and commercial system that justifies the sale of Ezra Miller’s image in relation to this movie, given all they stand accused of. Nor is it my place to judge Miller for the numerous legal issues swirling around them. While I don’t believe in separating art from the artist, film is a collaborative medium that hundreds of other people worked on to bring a movie to light. Miller’s off-screen episodes are the least of this film’s problems unless you want to get into a discussion about the film’s marketing. If you don’t want to see this movie because of Miller’s involvement in it, go right ahead. The Flash is, ultimately at best, a middling film that offers nothing new and perpetuates the reflexive hollow nostalgia that has propped up Hollywood blockbusters since Batman (1989). If this is one of the best superhero films DC Studios co-head James Gunn has ever seen, either he hasn’t seen very many of them or has a low opinion of the genre. Now if you want to find out why I think of the film in this way, read on.

Honestly, the fact that this film isn’t a Suicide Squad (2016)-style garbage fire – because of the sheer amount of developmental hell, corporate changes in direction, and everything in between – is commendable. It isn’t technically broken in the way that film was butchered, most likely because reshooting major chunks of the film would’ve been cost-prohibitive. This movie had three endings shot! So much has changed about this film that I am certainly forgetting something. The swirl of intrigue around the meta-narrative of this film is more interesting because the film itself is honestly kind of boring. To screenwriter Christina Hodson, director Andy Muschietti, and his producing partner Barbara Muschietti’s credit, this isn’t a bad movie. It just never offers viewers anything new.

Timing is everything, something the lead character Barry Allen (Ezra Miller), abundantly lacks. He’s always late to work at the CCPD crime lab, which makes it fitting that The Flash is ultimately so late to the comic book movie party, any novelty over the promise of the multiverse in storytelling or the nostalgic extended cameos of heroes from previous eras feels like old hat. Now some of this lateness isn’t entirely the film’s fault, the COVID pandemic did set off a chain of events that pushed the film from July 1, 2022 to June 2023. But that is after the films original release date of March 23, 2018, where it would’ve beaten Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse to the punch and introduced the multiverse to cinemas. (Which still would’ve been well after the The Flash TV show as part of the Arrowverse had already done that years prior.) Instead of being one of the first films, The Flash is one of the last with Spider-Man: No Way Home, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, and Across the Spider-verse all coming out and laying the groundwork for how audiences understand these multiverse movies. To say nothing of Everything Everywhere All At Once coming out last year and really showing everyone how it is done.

The “Flashpoint” story-event from 2011 inspires the core of this film, wherein Barry goes back in time to stop the murder of his mother and the imprisonment of his father, something the show also already did, better in their own way. In the process, he creates a nightmarish alternate earth where there is no Justice League, or in the case of the film, Superman, to stop General Zod during the events of Man of Steel. To try and fix this Barry must go on a search with an alternate version of himself, also played by Miller and Ed Wade, and find Batman. Only this Batman isn’t Ben Affleck; it’s Michael Keaton reprising the role, and the Superman is Supergirl, Kara Zor-el played by Sasha Calle.

The film’s core themes of accepting the bad things in our past and learning to move forward are essentially what Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness wanted to be about. This film is perhaps more structurally competent than Multiverse of Madness but lacks any sequence on par with the Rami-esque energy of Wanda’s horrifying destruction of the Illuminati. There is nothing about this film that is emotionally or thematically new or interesting. The fact that this movie comes out a couple of weeks after Across the Spider-verse is perhaps the worst timing imaginable. The animated Spider-man sequel is a plainly better movie on every level. Go see that or watch Everything Everywhere All at Once.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[karihighman]

so @halsteadsass had some lovely thoughts about the 4x21 promo & inspired me to write my own.

there are a LOT of ways i could see this whole proposal thing happening. one being (sadly, but still possible!) that tim actually would propose to ashley. but before anyone breaks down, let me explain why i really see that as the last resort possibility:

tim bradford has always been a man to 1) stay in relationships and 2) not be spontaneous. he’s like the epitome of a person who hates surprises IMO, so why on earth would he spring one on ashley in the form of a 💍? yeah, no. next!

ps: can’t forget how long it took him to divorce his now ex-wife isabel. tim is a helper by nature. his duty is to the people he cares about, and he thought he could help his wife — and in some ways, he did. but in staying for so long, he ended up getting hurt in the process.

with rachel, he initially was against the whole long distance relationship thing because him being a man of logic looked at the statistics. STATS. about love. 🙃 and you wanna know who looks at the heart of issues (pun sort of intended?) LUCY CHEN THAT’S WHO. besides, she was one of the people encouraging him to maybe try & make it work if that’s what he wanted. so, in the s2 finale, he changed his mind & did.

pps: did we ever get a clear reason why he & rachel ended things? am i just blocking that out from my memory or something????? no seriously help me out here people 😂

anyway, moving on to the present day. lucy is with chris; tim is with ashley. now, i’ve gone on about various reasons why i see chris & lucy not working out on the podcast - but in short, the foundation isn’t there (they’ve disagreed on mental health issues numerous times & it’s even come up in lucy’s trial prep), they may have fun but like nikki said in her post, it’s not something long term, and they just don’t have that same page type of vibe that chenford has. you know how lucy said she & tim have a shorthand? it’s because they’re so in tune with each other. chrischen on the other hand isn’t. i feel like chris is more invested than lucy is — remember she called him/their relationship a “work in progress” !!!!

and y’all don’t even get me started on tim/ashley (idk their ship name😅). while i don’t mind them, i do think they’re better as individuals than they are together. they lack common ground, they don’t share any similar interests, & um yes hi so unless i missed something neither has said the oh-so-important l word. (L O V E) .... soooo there’s that to consider. why on earth would tim, a man who isn’t spontaneous & is usually meticulous in his decisions propose marriage to a woman he hasn’t even said “i love you” to yet?!?!?!?!?!?! it doesn’t track to me, y’know?

i’m also in the camp of lucy being the one to actually process her feelings first. tim may have had moments of realization over this last season (esp. since 3x09!) but i think even though he’s one to be logical, he’s also one to push things down easier. so he was able to push anything away feelings wise for lucy since 3x09, or 3x14, or 4x01 easily because it just couldn’t happen for them then. and now that he’s with someone else, i don’t think that it came up again (unless you count the dance - but we missed a critical aftermath scene in that ep so canonically(?) who knows what chenford’s thinking now!)

so he’s able to compartmentalize easier than say, lucy “usually wears her heart on her sleeve” chen is. except, when it comes to tim, lucy hasn’t faced things since her 4x01 realization either (again, sort of omitting the dance scene b/c of the lack of aftermath — DON’T GET ME WRONG I FUCKING LOVE THAT MOMENT THOUGH).

to recap, we’re left with two people in other relationships who each haven’t fully come to terms with their feelings for each other. i’m honestly wondering if a more plausible explanation is tim proposing those “Mother’s Day plans” to ashley that the 4x21 episode description alludes to. again, it’s just me being the english major & going back to the use of “respective” in the description, which when properly used coincides with the list in question - each item in the forthcoming list relates back to the subject - god i’m not making sense

^ in the description above, respective relationships means whatever’s described first pertains to tim, second to lucy. so tim/ashley deal w/mother’s day; chrischen deals w/the vacation. so, i’m thinking tim is trying to reassure ashley that things will work out if she wants him to meet her mom(?) or if she would inquire about his — although see i’m still not 100% sure as to the status of mrs. bradford (is she alive still? i’d always presumed the opposite, but maybe i’m wrong)... hence why i’m leaning towards ashley would want tim to meet her mother. maybe he’s just gesturing & saying how great it’ll be. OR MAYBE THE DESCRIPTION IS PURPOSELY MISUSING RESPECTIVE & IT IS THE ROMANTIC VACATION FOR TIM/ASHLEY in which case tim’s attempting to be spontaneous & “sell” this romantic vacay idea to his girlfriend aaaaand that’s what lucy sees in the promo! {because btw, chris wanting to meet lucy’s mom or parents in general would make more sense than chrischen romantic vacation storyline IMO}

but maybe chris does wanna do a vacation & that is what’s on lucy’s mind as she’s walking & maybe that’s when she sees tim. hell, maybe she was going to go ask for his advice about said vacation idea. or the whole chris meeting her mother thing. maybe it brings up emotions surrounding bio dad for her again & since she mentioned it to tim before maybe she’s looking for a sympathetic ear again. who knows (i only wish i did - thank god we only have to wait 6 days to find out)

also one of my other friends said maybe it’s some sort of fever dream lucy has. like it cannot be real, the tim getting down on one knee thing.... maybe it’s all just a dream lucy had that gets her to wake up and realize her feelings for tim are real (nikki i believe mentioned this in her post or on other social media!)

anyhow, i’m still in the camp of lucy is needing to talk to tim, sees the “proposal” then BAM! feelings are officially being processed, all cylinders are firing. now, do i think ashley says yes? sorry to say (HAVE U SEEN TIM BRADFORD🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥) but i think she says no. and maybe lucy is only seeing the grand gesture (if it is a real proposal) and mistakes it for ashley’s yes. or, i think someone else either or here or twitter had said maybe it’s a practice round 😆 either way, i’m still thinking that everything is not what it seems when it comes to that scene — even the result if it does happen to be a real marriage proposal from tim to ashley.

i do think that regardless of the outcome, chenford probably won’t have a chance to discuss it with each other. i feel like they’ll be dummies and stew privately, or push all these weird emotions away that come up from said scene. so, i’m thinking that this undercover mission in 4x22 will be extra tension filled because of the words unspoken, feelings unsaid. and when the stakes get higher in this possible drug op, an undercover kiss or at the very least, almost kiss happens which will definitely turn chenford’s world upside down. (& bring fans like me an eternity of screaming until s5 in sept.)

ok, i think i’m done now. brownie points for you if you read this whole thing. i ramble. i’m a writer. it’s kinda my thing. oops. 🥴 hope some of this made sense. chenford endgame ftw that’s all!

[scarlettatg]

The Handmaid’s Tale

Season 3 Episode 6 Household

The snow kiss is probably one of my favorite kisses. The cinematography is just so beautiful, but other than that there’s a sense of comfort between them. Their previous kisses have been mixed with longing, passion, desperation. This one for me was just full of love and familiarity. The way they can read each other is also one of my favorite things about how they are portrayed in the show. He knows something is up, just like she knew something was up in 209 when he comes back from Canada after the letters get out. The what is pretty much the same. You can also see June’s dilema at what she was about to ask but even though some people think she was using him she wasn’t. She wasn’t even trying to manipulate him. She left it up to him and for me this was the last “call out” June has given Nick that I have picked up on. I firmly believe these call outs of specific things we have seen throughout the seasons have pushed/inspired Nick. This creates a balance in their dynamic. June is impulsive and emotional, Nick is the opposite. He knows how to play this long game in Gilead, too long some might think so I believe these call outs make him more assertive.

He moves away from June because he knows this is dangerous. For both of them, even for Holly. If he has a deal already, making this deal exposes him. Now if Nick has been a spy for the Americans or not is not something we have really seen. We do know he is not loyal to Gilead, even before June came along. He did have connections to Mayday and he had to have proven himself trustworthy to the cause to pull June's first escape.

“This is one the time to be a father to OUR daughter. How many of those do you think you’re going to get.” I love she says OUR daughter and even though her words are harsh they are true and she says them with emotion not with the intent to hurt him. It’s quite different from her time in 303 when he came to say goodbye. She knows what is his reality while in Gilead and she knows he would love to be a father and this is the best and only way to be one. She doesn’t even push the issue. She simply says it’s tomorrow morning. She can’t force him, just like he can’t force her to do things. She also knows this is a risk for him. She sees his struggle, he’s also scared for himself and for them. And he knows how politicians work, June doesn’t. At that moment they are balanced and it's a choice he has to decide to make. And he does, like always for her, for both of them. Because for Nick nothing else matters. Not even knowing he could die if he does this. People forget that that’s what Gilead does, even though he is a commander now doesn’t mean he is pro Gilead and that on its own, even with the “privileges” can be a risk.

The things he says in this scene are also interesting.

“They are politicians, they have their own agenda. I know so do I.” This is a little naive on June's part. Nick has been seeing how things work in Gilead for a lot longer and from a totally different perspective. He knows how these things work. June doesn’t and she’ll come to realize once in Canada. He also says they don’t care about us, which is also true. They care about the bigger picture. For politicians their situation is one of many and even if they can emphasize they’re still a means to an end.

“Once you get in bed with the government it’s not easy to get out.” This line has stuck with me for the longest and probably I will never know the real meaning behind it. The most logical interpretation is that he meant Gilead. This is where he’s stuck, even though he has shown no allegiance to. He joined the SOJ but not as a political group and we don’t know when he realized the ramification of the SOJ. We also don’t know if he was a willing participant of the take over. I do know he didn’t slaughter Congress or killed the president or was key a player. If he would’ve been he wouldn’t have been a driver for years before his promotions; that were punishments in disguise for helping June. We also know people were forced to comply or die, especially the military. The political structure in the show hasn’t been clear either. We do know Pryce was #1 and Fred #2. We also know it’s Pryce who recruited Nick in an employment office and offered him a job. It’s clear the SOJ as a fundamental group worked in this manner to recruit people. They offered solutions and change preying on the needs of desperate people. The economy was shit, the world was already going through a crisis and he was desperate for a job to take care of his family. This is how these groups operate and because they offer people hope and a solution while hiding their true agenda people go to them and follow them. These groups do not advertise their true intentions, their rhetoric can be disguised in their beliefs but people always think it won’t come to this or that. It would’ve been impossible for lower members of the group to know the plan for the take over in advance. We also know the SOJ took over by force so if Nick's willing compliance for some is possible because we haven’t seen it, his forced participation is also possible because we haven’t seen it. We do have seen a consistent character that doesn’t seem to align with the ideals of the SOJ and hasn’t been seen actively enjoying the Gilead lifestyle. I feel the need to clarify once again he did NOT want to be a commander.

The Swiss

Another thing that has been heavily debated is if he did go talk to the Swiss. He does go talk to the Swiss. There’s a scene that clearly shows him waiting for the meeting and getting called in. If the show wanted to make sure we knew he didn’t go, that 30 second scene would’ve been cut and it would’ve panned out to him being saluted by the troops (he’s a commander not a soldier it’s obvious they will salute him). The show wanted us to see that he did go.

The Swiss knew about the tape and they knew Nick was who she was talking about. They call him commander Blaine. June never says Nick and in the tape she says he’s a driver yet they knew he was already a commander. They knew who he was, they had done their research.

We won't be able to do business with Mr. Blaine. I don't think you know who Mr. Blaine is. Or who he was. (I’m sure they knew his background). Our research indicates he is not to be trusted. If they made a deal with Nick he wouldn’t want June to know. The only way to protect her and him is to make it seem he is proGilead. If he was already undercover the smartest thing to do is to keep him undercover. If he made a deal now with the Swiss the only info he could provide on the power structure would be from now on because he has just been promoted, but he can now share military info to help the rebels in Chicago or just for valuable intel. If the Americans were willing to make a deal with Fred, who was a founding father and came up with the take over, why couldn’t they make a deal with Nick.

“He's left for Chicago. Some people are not to be dealt with.” They were willing to meet up with him and they had done their research before the meeting. It’s not like Nick confessed he ate babies in the meeting where he’s trying to keep his daughter safe. Also his orders came rather quickly after this. Right after the meeting.

Serena says: “He served Gilead. He was a soldier in the crusade.” We already kind of knew that. He was working class. So he obviously didn’t do anything of amazing value to be higher up in the hierarchy. Most people at the moment of the takeover were pretty much forced to comply or die (flashback with the American soldier deflecting to Canada and talking with Moira). These groups do NOT share their whole plan with the lower ranks of their members. That avoids information leaks or people that want to leave. “We wouldn't be here without him. All this time you spent together and he never mentioned anything.” Obviously if he fought for Gilead and Gilead won, Gilead wouldn’t be what it is without those soldiers. Now why would Nick confess to June in the BG that he joined the SOJ? They had for all they knew days together, and for Nick he probably wasn’t planning to ever see her (or his baby) ever. If she ever found out he had been a part of it at least she’d have the memory that he tried to do everything to keep them safe.

[whilereadingandwalking]

An Evening with Neil Gaiman in Chicago

On a warm night on Friday the 13th, Neil Gaiman strode on stage in the Auditorium Theatre in Chicago. A packed crowd held their recently purchased signed books close as he settled in at the podium, dark blue and grey cloud shifting on a curtain behind him. He had to ask the crowd to calm down, before noting that Chicago is one of the first places he did readings back in the day.

Over the course of the evening, Gaiman read “Orange,” requested by Cat Mihos, and a poem about Batman dedicated to Neal Adams; to my delight, he read “The October Tale,” one of my favorite short stories; and he read “The Price,” which he described as a Midwestern story, “a story as much about living here as it is about anything else.” 

He would finish out the night with a reading of “What You Need to Be Warm,” a poem he wrote in his role as United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees ambassador to usher in a 2019 winter emergency appeal to help refugees. The night held hushed, teary silences, but also many laughs.

@neil-gaiman interspersed readings with answering pre-submitted audience questions—he mentioned early on that our stack of post-its, index cards, and torn-off pieces of paper held the best set of questions he’d seen on his tour.

Here are a couple highlights.

Favorite character to write?

Delirium. “Because she did her own dialogue. And most characters don’t.”

A lot of your works are inspired by religion. How do you do that research?

“I would have loved to have been a practical theologian.” Actually, no, he corrected—he would have liked to be “somebody who professionally made up religions.” The job doesn’t exist, he said. “But it ought to.”

How does he feel about people idolizing his works and teaching them in classrooms?

“Uncomfortable.” Why? “Because I loathe Thomas Hardy.” And he suspects that if he hadn’t been forced to read Hardy at age 12, he maybe could have liked him just fine. So he worries a bit about his works being taught in classrooms.

What advice do you have for working with an artist or illustrator?

He advised asking two questions: What do you like drawing or want to draw that you haven’t gotten to much? and What don’t you like drawing? It can get you into an artist’s good graces, and you also want to be able to try and work with what they’re good at and try to amplify it, push them to be even better. McKean hated drawing big crowds of people—Sam Keith enjoyed it—Jill Thompson doesn’t like cars.

Americans Gods the show gave Laura more personhood (”It did,” he agreed). Will Anansi Boys do the same for its women characters, and how do you feel about updating of your material?

Anansi Boys has wrapped shooting and will be a six-episode miniseries. It will have more of Rosie and Daisy and who they are than in the book, and he’s very proud of this. Neil said at the start that while he would write the first and final episodes, he wanted other writers in the room. Ultimately he worked with four writers of color—two of whom were women—to produce the full product of the Anansi Boys that we’ll get on-screen.

I admit I was personally proud that he answered this one, as it was my question.

What fountain pen and ink are you using right now?

He is using a Pilot 823 and a Namiki Falcon, primarily to sign books. He uses a lot of Pilot inks, because they offer well-packaged, secure sample sizes, which he can buy in a wide variety of wonderful colors, and which then won’t be as much of a liability to the rest of his luggage while traveling on tour.

Who is the coolest person you’ve worked with and why is it Terry Pratchett?

Terry was always certain that he wasn’t cool “and he was terrified that I ‘was.’” But Neil will never forget when Terry called him and said, Do you remember that story you sent me? Are you doing anything with that? And Neil said no, he was very busy with Sandman. “I know what happens next,” Terry said. So they had two options: Neil could sell him the idea, or they could write the book together. 

Of course Neil said that they should write it together. “It was like Michelangelo calling you up and saying ‘Do you want to do a ceiling together?’”

Favorite Pratchett story?

One day after Terry’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, he called up Neil, starting the call (as he always did) with, “Hallo. It’s me.” He was writing a memoir and couldn’t remember something. Could Neil help him? Neil felt a flood of emotion. His good friend, his brilliant friend, couldn’t remember something. “I could be your memory, Terry,” he said internally.

Well, Terry said, do you remember in November 1990, we were on a book tour for Good Omens? And we went to that radio interview and the interviewer had read the cover but hadn’t realized it was fiction, and he asked us what was so interesting about Agnes Nutter and her prophecies, and we told him, and he believed us? And we would see the engineers, and they knew, because they were knocking against the glass to get his attention? And we let him go on for 15 minutes before letting him off the hook? (Neil noted here that Terry was the one who did so, and that he did it very gracefully, making it seem like the host had been in on the joke the whole time.) And remember how we left the studio and walked down the street singing “Shoehorn with Teeth” by They Might Be Giants?

Yes, Neil said. But...what did you need me to remember?

“Was it 30th Street, or 34th?”

When is Sandman coming to Netflix?

He doesn’t know. Netflix will tell us, when they figure it out. “They say they have algorithms and plans, but I think they just go into a dark room with a knife and plunge it into the wall” then turn on the lights and see what calendar date they hit.

Where would your secret lair be, if you had one?

“I’m a traditionalist, so in an extinct volcano above a shark pit.”

[bi-bard]

Chick Flick Moments - Sam Winchester Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Chick Flick Moments

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Requested: by an anonymous reader

Word Count: 2,363 words

Warning(s): violence, cussing, Sam embarrassing himself, spoilers for any movie/show listed in the author's note

Summary: (Season 11) Gabriel takes a break from hiding to teach (Y/n) and Sam to forgive each other.

Author's Note: I had so much fun putting this request together! Also, if I remember correctly, this reader wanted to remain anonymous.

Here are links to all the scenes that inspired parts of this imagine:

1 (Princess Bride), 2 (8x12 Criminal Minds; can't find just the scene to link), 3 (Moulin Rouge), 4 (The Notebook), 5 (The 10 Things I Hate About You), 6 (Gilmore Girls), 7 (La La Land)

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

I rolled my eyes as I walked through the bunker.

Sam was still ranting about the most recent hunt. I was just tired of listening to it. Dean had long since given up trying to control his brother, who had shown no sign of listening to anyone.

"You can't just throw yourself into every single enemy," Sam yelled. "Fun fact, you're not Superman!"

"Oh my god," I finally, turning around. I had been halfway through the library at this point. Dean continued through the bunker, ignoring us. "I ran up to one extra vamp because you were about to get your throat ripped out! Yes, I put myself in danger but it was to save you!"

"Why are you so desperate to be a hero," he asked.

"Why are you so pissy that I saved you," I shouted back.

I let out a yell before turning and leaving.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed," I shouted from down the hall. "Maybe you'll be nicer in the morning! You're welcome for saving your ass!"

I stormed into my room and slammed the door shut. I changed quickly, throwing my old clothes into the corner before curling up on my bed. My emotions got the better of me. I started crying into my pillow.

Imagine saving the man you secretly loved... and then he got mad at you about it.

I fell asleep crying that night.

--time skip--

I shot awake, cringing at how bright it was.

I looked around, letting my eyes adjust to the light.

I was on a hill. I was on a hill, lying in the grass with the sun shining on my face. This is not good.

I stood up and did a circle to look around the long stretches of grass. Nothing looked even slightly familiar.

"For fuck's sake," I muttered.

I decided that the best option would be to try to climb down and find a person... somewhere.

I was just about to start making my way down the hill when I felt a hand grab me.

Out of pure fear, I grabbed the person and pulled them from behind me. The person went flying down the hill.

"(Y/n)," I heard Sam's voice yell as he rolled down the hill.

I put my hand over my mouth. He soon stopped rolling and then he stood up, scrambling to pull the black mask off of his face. I sighed, dropping my hand when I saw he was alright.

"Sam," I called.

"Your instinct is to throw some down a hill," Sam asked.

"When a masked man tries to grab me, definitely," I replied. "Fun fact, Sam, I can actually defend myself."

He gave me a sarcastic smile. I shot it right back to him.

Sam looked down at his outfit before sighing and shrugging at me. He had just started to move back up the hill when my visions went dark.

I opened my eyes a few moments later.

What had been an open field was now a dark warehouse or factory. I saw Sam across from me, but also a group of people behind him. I recognized them. They were characters from Criminal Minds, a guilty pleasure I watched when we weren't hunting.

I tried to figure out what was happening.

Then, I became all too aware of the barrel of a gun pressing into my neck.

"No," Sam yelled.

It clicked.

Sam was supposed to be Spencer. I was Maeve. This was Zugzwang.

My heart dropped.

"Wait, please, don't," Sam yelled as the gun pressed harder on my neck.

"Sam, shut up," I snapped.

"Me for (Y/n)," he shouted.

"You would do that," Diane- the unsub of that episode- asked.

"Yes," Sam replied.

"No," I yelled. "Sam, shut up."

"You shut up," Diane growled at me.

"One difference between me and her...," I growled back.

I grabbed the gun, pushing it forward, away from my neck. The bullet she tried to fire hit the brick wall. I turned, bringing an elbow down on her arm. Her hand dropped the gun into my grasp. I pointed it toward her.

"...I'm not scared of a simple gun."

The others walked over and arrested her. I looked at Sam.

"If you continued, she would've killed herself, which would've killed me," I explained. He furrowed his eyebrows. "I watch this show when we aren't hunting."

He walks over, going to hug me before the scene changes again.

"Holy...," I trailed off as I looked around.

Around us, we could see the tops of roofs and a beautiful night sky. It was almost a dreamy setting.

"Where are we now," Sam asked.

"Only the great Moulin Rouge," Sam and I both twirled around to face... Gabriel. "I know, I know... I'm not dead, anyway!"

I rolled my eyes.

"You two need to learn a lesson," he pointed at us.

"It's like back in 2010," I mumbled. "Play our roles to get out. Probably why we were pulled out of the last two."

"You'll fall into them naturally, I promise," Gabriel smirked. "And yes. Stop ignoring the plotline."

"Alright... sure, I was gonna get shot for your crappy game," I snapped sarcastically.

Then, he was gone. I rolled my eyes.

"So, what are the roles," Sam asked as I walked around the top of the elephant.

"Well, Christian and Satine," I pointed between us. "Maeve and Spencer. The Princess Bride and Westley. It's all romance."

"Why," Sam scrunched his face up.

"Because Gabe wants to get his rocks off," I said sarcastically, "I don't know, Sam!"

I walked down the stairs of the elephant. It was gorgeous here. It was just as vibrant as the movie made it look.

"Wow," I look back at Sam. "This is awesome."

I chuckled and nodded.

"What seen is it?"

"The Elephant Love Medley," I said. "Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman sing this mash-up of famous love songs as his character tries to convince her that there is nothing more important than love."

"I'm not gonna sing," Sam shook his head.

"I was not gonna ask you too," I chuckled. "I've heard you sing."

"Rude."

I just shrugged.

I looked around at the room, trying to figure out how to play these roles without the singing.

"Wait," I said. "Come on."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the stairs.

"What is it," Sam asked as we made it to the top.

"At the end of the medley, Christian and Satine are dancing and they walk out onto this field of clouds and are held up in the sky."

"What-"

"This whole movie feels like a fever dream the first time you watch it."

"Come on," Sam held a hand out to me.

"Can you dance?"

"Not well," he chuckled. "The role didn't say I needed to be good."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him.

I tried to lead his steps and laughed as he stumbled into a pattern.

"Come on," I moved back so I could grab only one hand.

I led him a few steps forward and onto- what seemed to be- steps in the clouds. I let out an excited laugh when it worked. Sam looked at me and grinned at my excitement.

As soon as got to the top of the steps... it was gone.

We were in the middle of the street now.

"Aw, that was just mean," I mumbled. I glared at Sam when I heard him laughed.

He held his hands up jokingly before extending one toward me. I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"I know what movie this is," he shrugged. I motioned for him to continue explaining. He walked over, hand still held out to me, "The Notebook. Noah and Allie dance in the street. So... will you dance with me? Even without the sequence where we dance in the clouds."

I bit my lip as I smiled.

I took his hand and let him pull me into the street. I laughed as I stumbled into his chest.

We fell into the scene naturally.

Sam held one of my hands in his and held my waist with the other. I placed my free hand on his shoulder. I looked up at him. It felt strange that we so casually fell into the scene but I was happy.

Sam jokingly twirled me around before pulling me back to his chest. I closed my eyes and chuckled.

"What," he asked.

"Nothing," I shook my head. "I just never saw you as such a romantic."

"Well, don't tell anyone, you'll ruin my reputation," he said sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes.

Sam spun the two of us in a circle before going to dip me. I didn't think I'd ever get to experience something like this. It always just felt like something I should forget about as a hunter. I was starting to forget why I was so angry with Sam in the first place.

I barely noticed that Sam was leaning in before the scene around me changed.

I was on a football field.

I looked around.

There was no sign of Sam.

"Crap," I mumbled, trying to figure out where to look first.

Then, there was a voice going over the field's speakers.

"You're just too good to be true... can't take my eyes off of you..."

I looked around toward the stands to see Sam walking with a mic. Can't sing, my ass.

"You'd be like heaven to touch... I wanna hold you so much"

"Oh my god," I muttered.

"At long last love has arrived... And I thank God I'm alive... You're just too good to be true... Can't take my eyes off of you."

I tried to bite back my laugh. He shrugged at me with an embarrassed smile and stepped into the actual stands.

We both jumped when the marching band started playing. I looked to see Gabriel smirking and leading their march.

Sam and I shrugged at each other. He continued on with the act.

Now, Sam Winchester pretending to be Patrick in "10 Things I Hate About You" was a treat... and was exactly what you imagined it would be.

He was almost stumbling down the steps as he continued on with the act. I was laughing hysterically by the time I saw the security guards starting to run in.

"Sam," I yelled, pointing behind him.

"Crap," I heard through the mic (which made me almost double-over in laughter) as he tried to take off running.

As soon as he was grabbed, the scene changed.

We both took a deep breath when we realized we were sitting together in a car.

"Thank god," Sam mumbled.

"That was a great performance, by the way," I said, still chuckling.

"Shut up," he muttered, laughing along with me. We fell silent after a minute. "So... what scene is this?"

"I have no idea," I replied.

"It's Gilmore Girls, dumbasses," we heard Gabriel's voice but saw no sign of him. "Season 1, Episode 16... absolute idiots."

"Didn't peg him for a Gilmore Girls fan," I said. Sam laughed.

"Me neither."

We fell silent again.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, looking over at me. "You were right. You can defend yourself and you were just trying to help me. I'm sorry for being such a dick about it."

I grinned, "Thanks... I forgive you. I know you were just worried about me."

Sam smiled back.

"I... umm...," Sam looked down for a moment, clearing his throat and collecting his thoughts. "I just... I love you."

My heart leaped up into my throat. I blinked at him a few times and forced a chuckle out. Which was the wrong response but I panicked. Hunters... we could face the devil but emotions were a no-no.

"(Y/n)," Sam's smile dropped slowly when he realized I wasn't responding.

I was just about to respond when the scene changed again.

Sam was gone again and I was on a city street.

"Dammit," I muttered.

I ran down the street, turning the corner. I looked at the wall of the building I was by. Was this a jazz club?

I walked through the door and was guided to a table so I could sit down and watch the performance.

"La La Land," I said.

Sam and I watched this together. Dean had gone to bed. We weren't tired and just turned this movie on because it looked like it was mostly happy.

Big dance numbers, beautiful effects... and the epilogue that made me hide tears from Sam.

I looked at the stage. Sam was sitting there, wearing a suit, looking at the audience nervously. He hesitantly reached toward the piano. It was like it was a prerecorded track. It sounded just like the movie.

I smiled.

I just wanted to talk to him.

Soon the performance ended.

I stood up and started walking over, seeing Sam starting to walk out.

I grinned at him, "Sam-"

He cut me off by cupping the sides of my face and kissing me softly. I touched his sides lightly, smiling against his lips. It was... magic. Absolute magic.

Then, I shot awake, back in my bed in the bunker.

The game was over. Thank God.

"(Y/n)," I heard yell through the bunker hall.

I ran into the hall and ran toward his room.

We stopped as soon as we saw each other.

"Please tell me that wasn't a dream," I said. He shook his head, smiling widely at me.

I ran over, pulling him down to kiss him again. It was softer than our last kiss and I loved it. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer. I buried my hands through his hair.

"Woah, what did I miss," we pulled away when we heard Dean.

I could basically feel Sam chuckle against my lips before he moved to look at his brother. I turned around in Sam's arm.

"A chick flick moment," Sam answered.

"Alright," Dean gave us a weird look before leaving without another word.

I looked back at Sam with a smile, "I love you."

"I love you too," he grinned and leaned in to kiss me softly again.

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

Masterlist

What I Write For

Request Guidelines

Musical Prompts

Small Moments With…

When Worlds Collide (Doctor Who Crossover Series) Masterlist

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folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

[bestiesenpai]

Youtuber Sukuna pt3

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life! I never thought youtuber sukuna would be so popular, so thank you everyone for giving me encouragement to continue this lil series. This will be the final part, but who’s to say we can’t have an OVA episode?? I smell a beach episode...or maybe a trip to an onsen? Who knows!

Part one --- part two

This had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. It certainly felt like it. Scrolling on Pinterest was the last thing he wanted to do, in fact it was something he openly mocked in the past, but now per your advice, he was looking at thousands of photos of home decor.

Sukuna was hesitant to admit to you that he had no furniture in his home. After seeing how well decorated and lived in your home was, it only made his shame increase at being a grown man with foldable furniture. But you took it in stride and offered to help, even making him share a Pinterest board with you so the two of you could get inspiration for a shopping trip.

That’s how he found himself at IKEA on a bright and early Saturday morning. You’d begged him to let you come shopping with him, and Sukuna was a man unable to refuse any request you made of him.

“Ah, this is going to be so exciting!” You shouted, nearly running to the carts at the front of the store. You were clearly more excited than he was, your energy seemed to know no bounds as you bounced on your heels and waited for him to trudge to the front door.

“What’s so exciting about furniture?” He grumbled, subconsciously taking the cart from your hands. Pushing into the store, Sukuna felt like he had been transported to another world. With staged living quarters that looked more real than his own home, he was at a loss for words.

“Sukuna, c’mere!” You were already ten paces ahead, standing at the entrance to one said fake home. Coming upon it, Sukuna nearly gagged at the color palette. There were bright orange tufted couches with a blue area rug and more pillows than he had owned his whole life. With white accents and gunmetal colored lamps, it looked far too much for him.

“It’s ugly.” He said, not caring about the other people around you that seemed to enjoy it.

“Really?” Taking another look around, you shrugged your shoulders and took a step back. “You’re right, it doesn’t really fit your whole vibe.”

That was definitely correct. If Sukuna had to give a name to his personal style it would be ‘who the fuck cares as long as it works’. He wasn’t one to dwell on his looks for too long, just content grabbing clothes that were easily accessible and trendy, ones that he knew would help him fit in. And that habit had bled into his furniture choice as well.

“Okay, you seemed to pin a lot of pictures that look like this-” Leaning over, he watched you scroll past picture after picture of what almost looked like the same thing, a living room with dark colored couches, a white rug and dark colored walls, almost always with a metal or dark wooden coffee table.

“Yeah, it fits me.” Wandering through the store, Sukuna glanced at an all white room with a window frame encasing a faux view of a city lit up at night. “None of this shit.” He made a vague gesture to the room, and the one following it that looked similar.

“You don’t want any bright colors at all?”

“My hair’s already pink, what more do you want?” That made you snort and giggle, and in turn made Sukuna smile.

“Okay but you can’t just have all black furniture, it’ll make your house feel like a dungeon.” Your hand came to rest on the handle of the shopping cart, dangerously close to laying on top of his. “Promise we’ll get at least a little color today? Maybe a yellow, or a pink to match your hair.”

“S-sure.” Sukuna couldn’t look at anything except for your hand. Your pinky finger was just barely touching his, almost enough that Sukuna could slide his hand under yours and interlace your fingers together.

“Ooh, what about this for your bedroom?” And just like that, you were gone. Dashing off to a display on the wall for bed sheets. “You said you only have a plain white one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How about this? This design is really trendy right now.” You were pointing to one that was a deep navy, white grid lines crossing over to make big squares.

“I like it.”

“Awesome! Now, do you have a queen or a king bed?”

After picking out the bed sheets, Sukuna slowly opened up more to the idea of shopping. He was able to recognize pieces he’d seen on Pinterest, picking them out as things he readily liked and would enjoy looking at in his house. He was even persuaded to get a few area rugs for different places in his house, and before he knew it you had piled the basket high with things.

“Ah, today was so much fun!” You sang, bouncing in your seat on the way home from IKEA.

“Now I just need to build all this shit.” Sukuna was amazed at how much you’d convinced him to buy. He had new furniture for his bedroom, a new couch was going to be delivered, a dining table and chairs and even a new desk and chair for his office setup in the corner of his living room.

“Lemme help!” You looked far too eager to help him build, and although Sukuna wanted to tell you no - he really didn’t want you to see how he was currently living - he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have you in his house with him, working together on something.

“Alright. Let’s stop somewhere and get food though, I’m hungry.”

One quick fast food meal that Sukuna loathed later, you were carrying things up to his apartment. He refused to let you carry the heavy things even if he could really use the help with some of the oblong boxes. But he didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you carried the small things.

When everything was inside the house, Sukuna watched your reaction to his place. You hadn’t made a sound when you first arrived, you were probably too busy trying to bring everything in from his car.

“Sukuna…” Scanning his apartment, your eyes landed on his abysmal furniture.

“Yeah?” He screwed his eyes shut, dreading what you had to say.

“This is totally what I expected from you.” You laughed, unpacking some of the fake plants you made him buy. “It totally fits you.” Letting out the breath he’d been holding in, Sukuna grabbed one of the boxes containing his new desk.

“Let’s get started.”

If Sukuna thought cooking with you was hard, building furniture with you was the final boss level. He had you read the instructions while he laid all the pieces out, and when you let out a whine at how many steps there were, Sukuna could have died happily right then and there.

It was easy to build the furniture he bought, but it wasn’t easy to work with you. There was no problem with your actual work, but the fact that Sukuna had to be so close to you at times, nearly hugging you when he had to hold up a piece for you to put a few screws in, it was too much to handle.

He quickly banished you to work on another project. It was your fault he kept getting distracted and forgetting what step he was on, so the only solution was to work on separate things. Plus, watching you flit around his house, hearing you change the bed sheets and lay down a new mat in the bathroom made him feel like you were newlyweds decorating your first home together.

“It looks so good in here!” It was well past dark when you finished everything. It truly did look like a brand new space, and not just in the living room. The touches you’d added, with bright pillows, fake plants and some actual art on the walls, made Sukuna happy to be home. His place finally felt like a home and not just somewhere to crash at the end of the day.

“You did a great job picking shit out, I woulda never been able to do all this.” Putting his arm around your shoulder, he gave you a squeeze.

“Are you gonna do a house tour when the couch and table come?” A house tour? Why would he do that? Knitting his brows together, Sukuna sent you a look. “C’mon, you know what a house tour is! All the popular Youtubers do them.” You giggled, wiggling your eyebrows. “And aren’t you a popular Youtuber?”

“I-” Well, you had him beat there. His subscriber count was well into the millions at this point. “Okay, I’ll do one when the rest of the stuff comes.”

“Yes!” Bouncing up and down in joy, you clapped your hands together. “I’ll help you film, I know how bad you are at angles.”

“Hey! I’ve been getting better!”

In a week, you were back at his place, more excited than him to film this video. You’d helped prepare a little script should he need it, and you were fluffing all the pillows so they looked nice on camera.

“Let’s have an entryway shot, those always look so cool!”

“Whatever you say.” Sukuna was merely a puppet on your strings, maneuvering however you saw fit. He made his hands as steady as possible getting b-roll shots of everything in advance.

“If you forget what to say, remember I made a script!” With that final warning, you were standing at the entrance to his apartment and waving your hand. “Okay, start!”

“Hi people on the internet. This is my house tour that (Y/N) is making me do.”

“Shut up!” You laughed behind the camera, trying not to shake it.

“This is my kitchen and dining room, (Y/N) picked out the table and chairs for me.” Doing a sweep over the kitchen, he transitioned to the living room. “And this is the lounge room, where (Y/N) picked out the couch and rug, and my desk stuff over there.”

“Yeah, Sukuna had no rugs in his apartment before!”

“Mhmm.” Somehow Sukuna managed to not stumble over his words, easily recalling parts of the script you had written for him. Highlighting the fake plants and cheap art on the walls, the two of you stood in the bathroom together.

“Look, it’s us!” You waved to the camera in the mirror, nudging your shoulder with Sukuna. Suddenly, the image of getting ready in the morning with you or winding down after a long day together in the bath flashed before Sukunas eyes. What would it be like to come into the bathroom while you were in the shower and join you? Give you a shoulder massage under the hot running water, or to brush his teeth and tell you to hurry up and not waste water.

“And this is the bedroom.” Quickly exiting the bathroom, Sukuna hid his blush with his hand as he entered the room.

“Hold this.” Shoving the camera in his hands, you leapt onto the bed. “This is where I sleep!” Your laugh was easy and you rolled around his bed a few times, simply having fun wrinkling the sheets.

“Uh- w-wha-” Sukuna nearly dropped the camera in shock. Seeing you in his bed, even if it was just on top of the sheets fully clothed, made his heart stop. Gripping the camera hard in his suddenly sweaty hands, Sukuna nearly tossed it to the side and joined you.

“Just kidding!” You were already climbing out of bed as soon as that thought entered his head. “But isn’t this room pretty? I picked out most of the stuff in here too.” Just like that you were back to normal, talking about some random print on the wall that he’d ordered per your suggestion.

Needless to say, Sukuna had a hard time falling asleep that night, the image of you in his bed burned into his mind like it was the only thought he’d ever have again. His imagination was going wild, and he tossed and turned all night - even after relieving some tension.

With his new desk setup, Sukuna felt motivated to edit the video as fast as he could. What you said about improving his living quarters was true; now that his place looked nice, he felt nice in turn. He even left in the part where you jumped on his bed, adding a funny break in the video like you’d shown him.

‘IT’S CONFIRMED. IT’S CONFIRMED. THEY’RE DATING’

‘sirpohdjb my ship has sailed!!’

‘I come here to see why sukunax(Y/N) is trending and it’s this bullshit?? Y’all need to get a life’

Sukuna often felt like a fool when he was with you, and sometime after as well. Even from the first comment he left on your Instagram, he knew people shipped you together and wanted you to date. He felt embarrassed more times than not, but it seemed he never learned his lesson. That scene of you on his bed had gone viral and he regretted leaving it in.

But could you blame him? You made his head spin, most of the time leaving him incapable of doing anything else beside standing in his place looking stupid. It was hard to edit the videos you did together because reliving the footage made him dizzy all over again.

(Y/N): SUKUNA. ANSWER ME ITS URGENT

It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week and Sukuna had nothing better to do than laze around and do nothing. Except now, he was texting you back with his heart suddenly pounding.

Sukuna: what?! Is something wrong where are you??

So much adrenaline was coursing through his body that he had started to shake.

(Y/N): I just got a great idea, I need to know if you’ll do a video with me!

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Sukuna said out loud, staring at his phone in disbelief. This is what was so urgent? Nearly sending him into an early grave for a possible video?

Sukuna: what the fuck I thought it was serious

Sukuna: I thought you were in trouble

He wasn’t upset per say, but Sukuna was definitely annoyed.

(Y/N): sorry :( i didn’t mean to scare you

Sukuna: you did more than scare me

(Y/N): I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!

Now Sukuna felt bad and it wasn’t even his fault. In all the time you’d known each other, you never had a negative interaction. He waited five minutes for you to text something, but you didn’t and it was making him anxious all over again.

Sukuna: well tell me what the idea is

(Y/N): no, it’s okay it was a stupid idea anyway

It took you another five minutes to respond, and your answer made Sukuna groan.

Sukuna: you got me all worked up and you’re just gonna leave me hanging?

He had to rectify the situation somehow.

(Y/N): I just thought...of maybe doing your makeup for a video?

Sukuna: what

(Y/N): I told you it was stupid! Just forget it

Sukuna: shut up it’s not stupid

As typing bubbles appeared and then disappeared, Sukuna could just imagine the way your cheeks puffed out indignantly.

(Y/N): here’s a link to someone else who did it with her boyfriend, they had so much fun together!

(Y/N): let me know if you wanna do it, I think it could be a lot of fun…

Sukuna only needed to look at the thumbnail to know he would say yes. The two people on the screen were very close, with the girl nearly touching her boyfriend's face with her own. They had big smiles on their faces as well, and that enticed him more.

Sukuna: I’ll do it

(Y/N): really?? That’s awesome! Come over to my place on Friday, we’ll order pizza and make a day of it!

And that’s how Sukuna found himself in your filming room, stomach full of pizza with a disgustingly cute green frog headband keeping his hair back. He’d seen this room a hundred times in the backgrounds of your videos, but now he was actually here. There were even more plushies than appeared on camera and you had a humidifier going in the corner.

“Okay now stay still, I’m going to wipe a toner on your face.” He had no idea what that meant, watching you with curious eyes pick up a bottle from the table in front of you and dab the liquid onto a cotton pad. “Usually I use my hands to apply toner, but we wanna wipe the dust off.”

With a gentle hand, you held Sukuna by the chin and swiped the cotton across his face, it’s soft chemical scent wafting into his nose. It felt nice, having you apply toner and moisturizer on his face. The most he ever applied was sunscreen, but maybe he could convince you to do his skincare for him every day.

“So today, I chose this makeup look by Beyoncés makeup artist! It’s a really popular style called ‘soft glam’.” Sukuna nodded along with you like he understood what you meant, taking a glance at the picture on your phone before you showed it to the camera. “I think Sukuna would really fit this kind of look, he is a natural beauty afterall.”

“Shut up.” He snorted, a light flush heating his cheeks.

“It’s true! There’s so many comments under your house tour video saying how good you look with the new furniture.” You spoke about the new makeup you bought for the video as you applied the products. Sukuna tried to keep up with what you were doing and saying, but he couldn’t really contribute anything to the conversation about makeup.

“Tuck your lips in so you don’t get foundation in your mouth.”

“What?” He jerked away right as you lifted the small dish you had with what he assumed was foundation.

“I don’t think you want to eat makeup, do you?” You chuckled and pat him on the cheek. “Tuck your lips in.” Doing as you asked, Sukuna flinched when you gripped the back of his head. “Try not to move too much, I want it to be even.”

As you applied the foundation and subsequently the concealer and powder, Sukuna barely moved. In fact, he barely breathed. You had leaned in far closer than you’ve ever been to him, your breath lightly fanning over his face as you worked to smooth everything out.

The hand on the back of his head dipped down to rest at the base of his neck, your body coming to lean more onto him as time went by. You were speaking, Sukuna could hear it, but he wasn’t responding. The excuse was he didn’t want to mess you up, but in truth he couldn’t find any words to say.

“Look at you!” Holding up a mirror for him, you laughed at his shocked face. “How do you like it?”

“I look so flat.” Turning his head side to side, Sukuna lifted a hand to touch his face.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll mess it up!” Snatching his hand away, you held it tightly in your grasp. Sukuna was thankful for the layer of makeup he had on now, no one could see his blush.

“What’s next? This eyeshadow shit?” He picked up a product on a whim, opening it up and staring at it. “Why’s there only two colors? Why are both of them brown?”

“That’s contour, we’ll get to that! This is the eyeshadow!”

Putting eyeshadow on Sukuna was harder than both of you thought. Not used to the feeling of the brush, he twitched every time it was swiped across his eyelid. Through plenty of trial and error, and many times of you telling him to just take a deep breath, you got through it.

“I’m gonna have to cut out so much of you flinching.” You teased, checking the camera to make sure everything was still working.

“I don’t get how you can do this shit, it’s fucking awful.” All Sukuna wanted to do was rub his eyes and face until his skin went raw.

“We aren’t even at the worst part yet: eyeliner.” Taking a seat, you lifted up a simple black pen.

“Oh god.” Hanging his head, Sukuna said a quick prayer for his eyes before straightening up and taking a deep breath.

“Sukuna, I gotta ask you something.”

“What is it?” Cracking an eye open, you were looking at him with your lip caught between your teeth.

“Can I...I need to sit in your lap to do eyeliner.” Sukuna audibly and quite loudly gasped in shock, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “When I help my friends with eyeliner I sit in their laps! It’s just easier that way!”

“I-I uhm- okay?” He eventually forced the word out, copying your movements and turning his chair to face yours. “What uh- what should I…?”

“Sit still.” Pulling your chair flush with his, you pushed Sukuna’s legs closed and scooted up his thighs until your butt was firmly seated on him. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, you uncapped the eyeliner. “There, now I can get started.”

Sukuna was in so much shock, he didn’t move. Even when the eyeliner tickled the inner corner of his eye, even when you moved his hands to rest near your lower back so you wouldn’t slide off, even when you did the bottom lashline, he was frozen.

If this is what heaven looked like for him, he would gladly take it and never leave. Your face was so close, he could feel it even when his eyes were closed. The soft skin of your hand held his powdered cheek gently, keeping yourself steady as you drew the lines on his eyes.

“All done.” You whispered. Sukuna opened his eyes and made a noise in the back of his throat; your face was close enough that if he tried to focus too hard he’d go cross eyed. You weren’t paying attention to his reaction at all, too focused on making sure his eyes were even.

The rest of the time went by in a blur. You’d slid off his lap after that, diving right into putting more powders on his cheeks. Swiping thick gloss on his lips is what drew him out of his stupor and into another one as you once again held his chin, swiping the corner of his mouth with your thumb when you were done.

“Sukuna, you look so good!” You said with a slight whine, showing all angles of his face off to the camera before showing him. “You have to promise when you get rich and famous and become a global celebrity that you won’t forget about me.”

“Shut up, you know I won’t.” He said with a smirk, swiping the mirror from you. “(Y/N)...I look fucking hot.” Bursting into laughter, you wiped imaginary sweat off your brow.

“Well I guess I don’t have to ask how you like it!” Patting him on the back, you got up to stretch and check the camera one last time.

“Would you fuck me, ‘cause I’d fuck me.” Sukuna said to himself, striking a few poses in the mirror and for the camera. “Hey, you watching this video you better fucking share this with all your friends. Everyone needs to see how hot I am.”

“We should have ordered you some clothes, turned you into an Instagram baddie!” You teased from behind the camera.

“Please, I don’t need fancy clothes when I’m this sexy.” Running a hand through his hair, Sukuna pointed the mirror at you. “Be honest (Y/N), you wanna date me right now. I look so hot, I bet I’m gonna have thousands of DM’s.” Sukuna’s confidence was the highest it's ever been around you. For some reason, the makeup gave him more assurance.

“Well let me know when to schedule a date with you then, I’d love to grab dinner sometime.”

“I’ll have my assistant pencil you in.” He joked, looking back at himself in the mirror. Sitting back down, you ended the video and made Sukuna wave to the camera. Not turning off the lights you used to film, you made him snap several pictures with you.

“This video was so much fun, Sukuna, thank you!” Rocking back and forth in your seat, you had a demure look while you fiddled with your phone. “And I wasn’t joking about dinner. I really like you, Sukuna.” That made Sukuna stop in his tracks, nearly throwing the mirror down in shock as he turned to look at you.

“Huh?!”

“I-I mean- I mean I like hanging out with you!” Obviously embarrassed, you leaped from your seat and began turning the filming lights off, pointedly avoiding his gaze. Both yours and Sukunas faces were burning with embarrassment, awkwardly not looking at each other.

“(Y/N)...” Sukuna half stood from his chair, forcing himself to move despite how awkward he felt. “I-”

“Let’s wash off that makeup now, I bet it’s uncomfortable.” Keeping your eyes trained on the floor, you went to the door. “I’ll show you what to use in the bathroom.”

The tension in the air was thick after that, and it remained that way for a few days after. Sukuna knew what he heard, he saw how your face looked as you said you liked him, he could hear the sincerity in your voice. But it obviously wasn’t something you were ready to say, as evident as you not texting him as much as you usually did.

When the video went up, Sukuna immediately felt butterflies in his stomach all over again watching it. Reminded of how close you were to him made him ache to have you near him, and seeing you sitting on his lap had another feeling rising in his stomach, warming him up in an embarrassing way.

He patrolled the comments as usual, but there were no mean ones that he could yell at. All of them were screaming about how the video just confirms that the two of you are dating, and surprisingly they weren’t calling out him for looking like he was in love with you.

The comments teased you this time, keen longtime viewers of yours pointing out specific timestamps where you looked embarrassed or looked like you wanted to kiss him. Sukuna checked out every single one, liking the comment for showing him that what you said earlier wasn’t a mistake.

Ever since that day, it seemed like you were promoting on Instagram and Twitter a lot more. Sukuna already had notifications turned on for all your socials and there was a definite uptick in your content posted to those platforms.

There were more sponsored posts and polls posted asking your followers for style advice, and which beauty items they preferred more. Sukuna was happy to see you got an increase in brand deals from the video you did together, a video that had now easily reached five million views and counting. He congratulated you whenever he saw a sponsored post, sending you cute little emojis along with the praise.

All week you had been hinting that there was a big announcement coming, a major event in your life that you were so excited to share with everyone. Sukuna, along with all your other followers, ate up all the crumbs you left throughout the week. Many suspected you were going to go work for a designer label, while others assumed you’d announce a sudden marriage.

(Y/N): Sukuna, check Instagram!

You texted him in the evening on Friday, but he didn’t need the update. He was already on your page when the post was dropped, waiting impatiently for the picture to load.

“A TV show, huh?” As he read the promo photo, he smiled. Appearing on a TV show was a big opportunity for you, one that was sure to lead to many more. Your role wasn’t stated in the photo, but your promo picture was a professional one no doubt taken at a studio.

“Wait, what?” When Sukuna got to the caption, he took a pause. Why were you going on a dating show? He read the words over and over, hoping for a different outcome each time. But there was no denying you’d be going on a dating show.

Checking out the show's page, Sukuna let out a groan. All the male contestants were hot and not even he could deny it. Some had muscles like he did, others were more unconventionally attractive.

Sukuna: you’re going on a dating show?

It took him a while to text you back. In fact, it took nearly thirty minutes for him to text you. Sukuna had gone through all five stages of grief several times, coming back to being in denial over and over again.

Dragging his feet to his kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of wine that one of his rich clients at the gym gifted him. Popping the cork, he collapsed onto his couch and took a long drink from the bottle.

(Y/N): yeah, I’m super nervous!

Sukuna: I bet

Oh, did he fucking bet. He’d gone through all the male contestants' Instagram pages, trying to talk them down in an attempt to lessen the blow that he could potentially lose you to one of them. Why did he have to wait so long to confess to you? Now the chance was gone, possibly forever.

(Y/N): what do you think about the show? I was kind of scared to take the deal

You didn’t want to know how he really felt.

Sukuna: it’s a great opportunity, great for exposure and it’s a lot of money

(Y/N): that’s true!! I’ll have to treat you to dinner with my first TV check!

Just great, a chance for you to gush about whoever you met on the dating show. Taking another long drink from the bottle, Sukuna crumpled even more into his couch. Back were the stages of grief, each emotion washing over him until he mustered up the courage to do something about it.

“Hello?” You answered the phone, confused as to why Sukuna called you instead of replying to your messages.

“(Y/N).” Sukuna said your name firmly, honing in on a spot in the ceiling. Swallowing around a growing lump in his throat, Sukuna forced the next words out. “I like you. I-I really, really like you.”

“What?” He could hear you gasp over the phone.

“I know, what kind of asshole confesses to you when you’re about to go on a TV dating show?” He chuckled, taking a deep breath. “But it’s true. I wanna be your boyfriend, (Y/N). I know it’s too late to back out of the show but-”

“Sukuna-”

“No, let me say this. I know it’s too late to back out, and-”

“Sukuna!”

“And I don’t want to hold you back from finding someone better suited-”

“Sukuna!”

“Better suited for you than me. I’m just a dumb, muscled up chump that-”

“Sukuna I’m a stylist, not a contestant!” You were finally able to get a word in, face flushed from the sudden onslaught of emotions going through you. Sukuna was silent on the other end, mouth hanging open as he processed the words.

“Y-you’re a...a stylist? So you won’t be dating any of them?” He whispered after a few moments, the shock starting to wear off and being replaced with humiliation.

“Yeah, I’ll be on the styling team.” Your voice also dropped to a whisper, the weight of his words beginning to settle down on the both of you.

“Oh god.” Putting the bottle down, Sukuna slapped himself in the forehead. He had never felt like a bigger idiot than in this moment. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, just- just forget it.”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to forget it. I...I want you to be my boyfriend too, Sukuna.” There was a pregnant pause, and you could practically hear Sukuna’s brain working overdrive.

“Let’s go out on a date!” He shouted, pushing himself off the couch and to a shaky stand. “I’m free whenever, let’s go on a date!” The alcohol was definitely affecting him more than he first thought, and Sukuna fell back down onto the couch.

“Really? Okay, how about tomorrow? That’s like the only day with good weather for the rest of the week.”

“I’ll pick you up at noon.”

Sleeping restlessly through the night, Sukuna woke up way earlier than his alarm. Taking an obscene amount of time getting ready, he was still early to your house. Taking a lap around the block, he went to a flower shop and bought you a handful of flowers.

“Hi.” Your voice was soft, almost meek as you entered his car.

“Hey. I got you these.” Handing you the flowers, Sukuna bit his lip nervously.

“That’s so sweet, thank you!” Gently hugging them to your chest, your nerves began to melt away and you smiled, making Sukuna smile as well.

Sukuna once again had you pick the cafe you were going to. This one was in a bustling downtown street, not in the middle of the countryside, and as you two walked down the street there were couples passing you left and right.

Snagging an outdoor seat, Sukuna went inside to order for you. This cafe, unlike the last, actually served coffee and Sukuna was quick to get a large cup of it. Buying a few croissants cutely decorated with various creams, he went back outside.

“Say, you’re really cute, why don’t we sit and chat for a bit?” An unknown man was standing near your table, and Sukuna caught the tail end of his sentence.

“N-no, I’m good.” Your eyes were glued to your lap, obviously uncomfortable with the attention you were receiving.

“Aw, really? A pretty face like yours shouldn’t be all alone!” The man had a sleazy grin on his face, visibly eyeing you up in a salacious manner. “My name is-”

“Baby, who’s this guy?” Sukuna had had enough. Stepping right up to the table, he nearly slammed the tray in his hands down on the table. Your head shot up, relief flashing across your face.

“Who are you?” The man scoffed, curling his lip in disgust.

“I’m their boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?” Puffing up his chest a little bit, Sukuna stared the man down.

“Boyfriend? They didn’t say anything about having a boyfriend.” The man attempted to look at you again, but Sukuna beat him to it and caught your eye instead.

“Geez baby, I know we had that fight before we came but I’m hurt! If I get rid of this creep, will you call me your boyfriend again?” Laying a heavy hand on the man's shoulder, Sukuna gave it a squeeze.

“Y-you’re always gonna be my boyfriend, dummy.”

“That just warms my heart!” Sighing loudly, Sukuna gave the man a not so subtle push away from the table. “Well, you heard ‘em. Get lost, you worthless sack of shit.” Grumbling, the man walked away and Sukuna took his rightful seat next to you.

“Thank you.” Immediately, you latched onto him, squeezing his arm in a tight hug as you pressed your face into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Wrapping you up more tightly in a hug, Sukuna pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I would have beat him up if you wanted. Men are fucking disgusting.”

“Sukuna, you are a man.” You laughed lightly.

“Exactly my point.” Rubbing a hand on your back, Sukuna picked up one of the croissants. “I hope you like these because I can already tell it’ll be too sweet for me.” You laughed again and sat up, keeping your face close to his.

“I have something sweet for you too, I hope you like it.”

“What is it?” Quirking a brow, Sukuna jumped when you planted your lips on his. The kiss didn’t last long and the taste of your lip balm and feel of your lips was permanently engraved into Sukunas brain.

“There.” Your cheeks were absolutely on fire, shame rolling off of you in waves at having your first kiss in a crowded cafe on a busy day in the city. It wasn’t even a particularly romantic setting, but something spurred you to do it.

“W-what the hell! You can’t just do that!” Sukuna gasped, his own cheeks burning a deep, scalding red. “You gotta warn a guy first!” His dramatics were drawing attention from the other patrons, making the situation even worse.

“Sshh, you’re being too loud!”

“Like I care! Kiss me again, I’m ready this time!” Grabbing you by the shoulders, Sukuna tried to kiss you.

“W-wait, there’s people watching!”

“I don’t give a fuck who’s watching!” Grabbing your chin, Sukuna kissed you much firmer than when you kissed him. It lasted longer as well, bordering on too long for what is accepted in public. “There.” Pulling away slightly out of breath, Sukuna sat back in his seat and took a sip of his coffee.

“You’re so embarrassing.” You whined, hiding your face in your hands and hitting Sukuna with your head.

“All I’m hearing is how great of a boyfriend I am.”

“No you’re not.” You countered, getting wrapped in a side hug by Sukuna.

“It’s debatable.” Picking up the croissant he dropped, Sukuna took a bite. “Hm, this is sweet but not as sweet as that kiss you gave me.”

“Sukuna!”

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Aaron Hotchner / Worth Your While

Prompts: The Beard Hotch Fic™ - inspired by that one episode where hotch has a beard and all of us collectively lost our minds 

Word count: 3.728

Warnings: E, phone sex, mutual masturbation, beard kink (i guess that’s a thing??), oral (f receiving), i don’t know just smut

Image Credit: @agenthotchner​

“Still don’t know when you’re coming back?” 

A sigh floated through the phone, “Not yet,” you hum, climbing into bed on top of your covers, your legs folded underneath you. You hear his cot creak underneath him. You hummed, as you placed your pillow beside you, if you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine that he was lying there beside you. 

“Enjoying the hot Pakistani desert a bit too much, Hotch?” a small chuckle leaves his throat, voice gruff over the line. 

“I would enjoy it a lot more if you and Jack were with me,” your chest aches at the sound of the weariness in his voice. He was so tired — and now you couldn’t even take care of him. Another sigh leaves his lips, before he adds, a ghost of a laugh in his voice,  “although he’s not a fan of the beard.” 

You raise your eyebrows, “Really?” 

“His exact words were, ‘do they not sell razors there, Dad?’” you snort, turning onto your side, “I think I’m going to shave it off before I get back.” 

“Ah let’s not rush it,” you bit your lip, running your fingers over your bare neck, “why don’t we ask for some other opinions before we jump to conclusions?” 

You could practically hear his eyebrow raise over the phone, “And what’s your opinion, sweetheart?” his voice is low and scratchy, and you can almost imagine his fingers tucking your hair behind your ear as he murmured the question against your neck. 

You feel a heat begin to climb up your neck, and down your body, “I don’t think you should shave,” 

“You don’t think?” he presses, and you hear the cot groan again as he shifts, “or I shouldn’t?”

“You shouldn’t,” you swallowed, fingers drifting down to the waistband of your shorts, “not until you see me again.” 

“And what are you going to do when you see me again?” you whimper, fingers past the elastic of your shorts, your fingers drift against your soaked panties, “answer me.” You gasp his name as your fingers circle your clit, “are you touching yourself?” 

“Yes,” you say, breath uneven as he shifts in his cot again, more this time, “I need you, Aaron, I—” 

“Call me on video call,” he hisses, and you know his fingers are around his length, the video call feed only confirming it, “see what you do to me,” his pants are gruff and short, “show me what you’re doing.” You flip the camera from your face to the middle of your thighs, your hand hidden beneath the fabric of your obviously drenched underwear, “Pull those off, I want to see you. I want to see exactly what I’m doing to you.” 

Your underwear slides down your thighs, slowly, as you lift your hips for the camera. And his breath hitches when he sees you — soaking wet and two fingers deep in your pussy, “Aaron, fuck, I miss you—” 

“What do you miss?” there’s an edge to his voice, an urgency, but still, his voice is hushed and quiet, tension thrumming in the air, “tell me what you want me to do to you.” 

“Is that an order, sir?” and you hear him groan quietly over the phone that hangs in the silence of the desert. 

“Fuck, yes, it is,” he growls, and he hears a quiet hum leave your throat, and he knows you’re enjoying this — all too much, but not as much as if he were actually there. If he had two thick fingers pressed inside of you. His mouth swallowing all the little noises leaving your throat, until his lips sucked dark bruises against the hollow of your throat. 

“I would want you to pin me down, your fingers parting my thighs,” quick gasps part your lips, filling the silence of his tent, and you wonder — could someone hear you if you were just a little too loud? Could a colleague hear your desperate cries of his name, you begging him for his cock, his mouth, his fingers — anything, “feel your beard against my thighs as you wrap your tongue around my clit, fingers inside me, like mine are now—” Your fingers sink deeper, adding another with a loud gasp, your hips rolling against your hand, “and I’d cum all over your face.” His beard slick with your cum, as he kisses you again, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. 

“Then, you want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?” a helpless whine parts your throat at his words, low and sharp, “But still, I’d sink into you, slowly, let you feel every inch of myself part you — wet and tight — for me.” 

You arch your back against your bed, Only for him. 

“Aaron, please, I need to see you — see your face—” You’re close — he doesn’t need to see your face to know that. And you know he hears it — hears you preen against you, and in the quiet silence of your bedroom, and his hand squeezes his cock. Fuck, and he abides by your request — shows you his face contorted in quietly controlled pleasure, his teeth against his bottom lip, until he hears you. 

“Aaron, I’m—” he groans, far too loud for the quiet desert and conscious colleagues that surrounded him. But it only further pushes you over the edge, thinking about that groan in your ear, pressing kisses against your neck, fucking you hard and fast until your walls tighten around your fingers, phone falling from your hand. But not before you hear him say your name, reverent and breathy.

Your fingers begin to still, the feeling of your fingers carrying you through your orgasm, chest rising and falling in quick pants. Your body slumps against your mattress, boneless, eyes squeezed shut. That is, until you hear a voice on the phone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, reaching for the phone, “sorry, did you say something?” 

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice deep and blissed out — and you can almost feel the words of love vibrate against your skin, “I miss you, so much.” 

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder?” you offer, flipping the camera so he could see your face, “but phone sex definitely helps.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, “It does, but it’s not enough.” 

“No, nothing compares to the real thing,” you sigh, rolling over on your bed, “but luckily, the real thing is waiting for you when you get back,” and then you add, “Just don’t shave the beard.” 

He runs a hand through his beard, “Yes ma’am. You’ll make it worth my while?” 

You grin, tilting your head, “Don’t I always?” 

~~~

Hotch leaned against the headrest of the airplane seat, stuffed between two sleeping passengers — this was certainly different than using the jet. Not that he was complaining — he needed to get back. He resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the arm rests. 

Ian Doyle. That was a name he had spent several months trying to forget. The events of what happened still haunted him, but even more than that, the lies he had to tell the team wore away at him. Guilt gnawed at his insides, a pit in his stomach that he was sure would give way. 

He had to do it. He had no choice. He was the team’s leader. He had to make the hard decisions. He had to bear the burden. But he only wished he didn’t have to do it at the team’s expense. 

He rubbed at his eyes. Watching them cry and mourn, listening to them grieve right in front of him, as he evaluated each of them for field work — it had killed him. And now it would all come out. Prentiss was alive. And they had kept it from them. He had kept it from them. 

But there was no use thinking about the fallout. Not when he was on a plane miles away from its destination still. No, he needed to think about something else. 

He glanced at his phone, smiling at the picture of you and Jack smiling back at him. He remembered the day they had taken that photo. It was your first time spending time with Jack. He never met someone who clicked so easily with Jack — after everything that had happened with Haley, Jack was a little quieter, a little more reserved (not so dissimilar to himself, you had pointed out to him). But with you, it was different. He would smile. He would laugh. He understood. He knew you and you knew him. And he was so grateful for that. 

And he was so grateful for you. 

His fingers rubbed at his chin, still prickly with his beard. He had kept his promise — he had kept it for you. Even though Jack would be less than pleased. He would be staying with Jessica either way while he dealt with the situation at hand. He wouldn’t be getting much sleep the next few days — he knew that for sure. But even so, the prospect of seeing you soon made his chest feel a little lighter. No longer would date night consist of a hurried dinner and possible phone sex. Now, he could hold you, he could touch you, and he could fall asleep to your quiet breaths, instead of to a far too hot desert and a lonely cot. 

And the best part? He hadn’t told you that he was coming back yet. And he didn’t think he was going to, until he was at your doorstep. 

~~~

“How was work today?” Hotch gave a heavy sigh over the phone, and you put down the bowl of dough you had been stirring, “Aaron?” 

“It was a hard day,” he cleared his throat, “we saved a kid, but he saw his father die in front of him.” 

“Aaron,” you wished you could touch him, could comfort him, no words were enough for times like this, “you couldn’t have done anything more. You saved his life.” 

“I know, I just—” he clicked his tongue, “I just wish it didn’t turn out that way.” 

“And that’s why you’re one of the good guys,” you smile at your phone, “and that’s why you can’t let it eat away at you — you still have your own little boy to come home too. Not to mention, your very patient girlfriend.” 

He laughed, a soft noise that made your heart stutter in its chest, “You have been very patient, haven’t you?” 

“I have,” you hummed, perking up at the tone of his voice — appreciative and teasing — “got something to reward me with?” 

“I actually might,” and you bit your lip, “but you’ll have to do me a favor.” 

“This is my reward, and I have to do you a favor?” you clicked your tongue, “doesn’t seem very fair, Agent Hotchner.” 

“I know all about fairness, sweetheart. After all, I did study it in law school,” you could almost see him shaking his head, a smile dancing across his lips, “I just need you to open your door.” 

“Open my door?” you wiped your hands clean, before grabbing the phone off the counter, making your way to your door. You spotted the back of someone’s head through the peephole. Locks clicking as you undid the lock and the deadbolt, you held the phone between your shoulder and your cheek,  “Aaron Hotchner, did you order me dinner again? Because I told you I already—” 

You gasped, your phone clattering against your hardwood floors. Aaron stood, hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips, as he tilted his head, “No, but I did bring dessert.” 

“Aaron!” you ran into his arms, hands on his shoulders, face buried in his chest, “I can’t believe this. You’re back. You’re here.” 

“I am,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair, “and I’m not going anywhere now.” 

You pulled away, “You’re back for good?” and he nods, as your fingers cup his face, thumbs running over his cheeks, and you note the bristle underneath your fingertips, “and I see you kept your promise.” 

“Of course, I’m a man of my word,” he breaths, leaning closer as your breath hitches, his lips pressing against yours. It had been months, and you had nearly forgotten how he tasted, lips moving firmly against your own. His teeth grazed your lip, as he eagerly swallowed your moan, as your hands tangled themselves in his hair, walking backwards, as he shut the door with his foot, “I missed you so much,” he says in between kisses that stole the air from your lungs. 

Your hands pushed the jacket from his shoulders, “I missed you too,” his hands squeezed your hips, before his hands slipped your thighs, lifting you against him, as he carried you to your bedroom. No longer could you tell where you began and he ended, but you didn’t care — not when his teeth grazed against your pulse point like that. He had you pressed flush against your bedroom door, lips burning a trail of kisses down your neck, fingers toying with the straps of your camisole. 

“Take me to bed,” you whispered, and he did — placing you on your bed, and in a second, he was on top of you. 

Your fingers busied themselves with undoing the buttons on his button down, while his slid the hem of your camisole higher and higher. You undid the last button and the shirt slid off his shoulders, and he lifted his arms as you did away with the undershirt immediately. Your fingers traced over the broad expanse of his chest reverently, enjoying how his muscles reacted to your touch and how his breath stuttered his chest when your fingers grazed him. The same man who stayed calm under pressure crumbled under your touch. 

You raised your arms and he slipped the camisole from your body, groaning when he realized you had no bra on underneath. His fingers teased your nipples, mouth wrapped around one of them, “Aaron,” you arched your back into his touch, your fingers slipping between your bodies, trying to undo the button on his pants. His teeth grazed your nipple, soothing the sting with the flat of his tongue, “please,” 

You undo the button of his pants, and pull them down, helping him kick them off. He whispers your name, pressing a kiss to the skin between your breasts, before tucking fallen strands of hair behind your ear, “What do you want, baby?” 

Your eyes fall to the prominent bulge in his boxers, “Fuck me,” you look up at him, thumb brushing his lips, and he smiles, pressing another heated kiss to your lips. 

“Not before I taste you,” he says, voice husky, as he burns a trail of openmouthed kisses down your body, re-familiarizing himself with every curve and dip of your body, until the fire in the pit of your stomach all but engulfs you. He tugs your sleep shorts down, as you lift your hips to help him, kicking them off. His calloused hands part your thighs, as he settles between them. You watch him with lidded eyes, breath stuck somewhere in the back of your throat. A low groan rumbles in his chest at the sight of your obviously soaked panties. You hiss as his beard scratches beautifully against your thighs, friction making you squirm, until his large palms steadied you. Fingers splayed over the soft skin of your inner thighs, his nose brushing far too close to your soaked center, as he kisses right below the waistband. 

“I had forgotten how good you smell,” he murmurs, another kiss, this time right on top of the wet spot on your panties. 

He spreads you wider, hips jumping as your heart does in your chest, when his fingers brush your slit through the thin fabric. He doesn’t remove them, no, instead, he slides the crotch aside placing you on full display for him, half wrapped in that silk fabric. You hiss when you feel his warm breath mingling with the cool air of the room. His tongue darts out across his lips, looking at you with half-lidded eyes, before leaning down to press a kiss to your warmth. 

His moan vibrates against you, a reverent noise of unrestrained passion and you know that this is just as much for him as it is for you, sending shivers down your spine of what’s to come.  A single finger begins to part your folds, as his mouth presses butterfly kisses all around your clit, his beard deliciously grazing against your thighs. And finally, he takes a single broad swipe up his tongue up the length of your weeping cunt. A gasp blooms into a moan, as your fingers grasp at him, traveling the length of his shoulders, until you are able to card your fingers through his dark strands. 

His tongue moves in tight circles, your muscles squeezing his thick finger, as keen against him, eager for more, more. As you always were for him, and only him. Desperate for his touch, even when he couldn’t provide it. His beard only stokes the fire coiling in your stomach, now burning against your cunt. 

The phone sex seemed like a distant memory, a cheap imitation of the real thing. Nothing, nothing could compare to his lips, his tongue, his teeth, his touch. Nothing could compare your fingers threaded through his hair, his moans quietly reverberating against your slick folds. Nothing could compare to him — the sweet man who had just come back after spending weeks away from his home, his family, his friends, his life — but he chose to spend this night with you. 

Another finger parts your folds, and a broken whine leaves your throat, as your head falls against your plush bed, “You take me so well, sweetheart,” he mutters, tongue flicking against your clit, as you lift your eyes to meet his gaze, “so good to me. So patient. So sweet.” 

And that’s when his mouth closes over your clit. Your hips rock against the flat palms of his hands, as his tongue flicks against it. And the coil in you snaps, his name a ghost upon your lips, a soundless scream on your lips. You feel him hum against you, far too pleased, but you barely notice, lost in your own high. But he does not relent, pulling your orgasm from you as his fingers scrape against your shuddering walls, tongue eagerly tasting all that you offer him. 

He drags himself back up to you, his hardness brushing the inside of your thigh. His fingers trace your jawline, as your eyelids flutter, watching his tongue dart across his chin, still glistening with your release. His lips quickly follow the paths scorched by his fingertips. His lips find yours again when your breaths are even, and even now you can’t get enough of him. 

You arch towards him, fingers sliding down his chest to the waistband of his boxers, “Sweetheart,” a strangled groan of your name on lips still sticky with your cum, and he stares at you, eyes black as the darkness that surrounds you, as you slide his boxers down finally. 

You both groan in tandem, as your fingers close around his length, flushed and weeping. His hips lean into your touch, the head of his cock brushing your folds. 

“Aaron,” you shake your head, “I need you.” 

“Where do you need me?” his voice barely above a rasp. He rips your hand from him, pinning both your wrists to either side of your head. He presses another kiss to your skittering heartbeat. 

“I need you to fuck me—” you gasp, as his teeth scrape against your neck, pressing soft kisses against its length, before sucking a pretty bruise against the hollow of your throat, “please.” 

He sinks into you then, sliding into your warmth, murmuring in your ear. Your mouth falls open, “Even after all this time, you take me so well,” his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thigh as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, “I love you.” 

His name is a prayer, his touch is your salvation, as his nails dig crescents into the curve of your hips, “Missed you so much—” his own snap against you harder, deeper,  “needed you so bad. I love you. I love you.” 

“I want to feel you cum for me, sweetheart,” his fingers skim your clit, and that’s it. You come apart underneath him, veins no longer filled with blood, but with pleasure. His hips stutter as your muscles flutter around his cock, still fucking you through your orgasm, as his fingers make you jump against him, “Say my name,” he growls, as your arms wind around his shoulder, tugging him closer, closer, closer, “say it.” 

 And you do, just as he cums inside of you with a groan of your name in your ear, nearly collapsing on you. He presses into you, and it’s much too warm, the sticky heat and smell of sex pervades, but you don’t care. Still you tug him closer, chest to chest, as your eyes shut. You feel him come down from his high, his breath slowing. He pulls himself out, and your body mourns his absence. He curls up beside you for a moment, his finger drawing absentminded circles on your thigh. You look at him, a smile pulling at your lips as you find him staring at you. And you press kisses to him — to his shoulder and neck, your fingers sweeping his hair out of his eyes. 

But his gaze still persists, “What?” you ask softly, your fingers tracing his jaw, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your fingertips. 

“Should I keep the beard?” and you laugh, shaking your head, as you lay back on the pillow. 

“I think you should do whatever you want to do,” and he kisses you again, full and warm and happy, “and I think you should definitely take Jack’s opinion into mind.” 

He raises a brow, a smile on his lips, “Will you still make it worth my while?” 

You roll your eyes, fingers cupping his cheek, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, “I will always make it worth your while.” 

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