#i have to say the baby fight and the whole sloan sloan thing really grinds my gears

[spookyrobbins]

late night of rewatching scenes and thinking about arizona but:

I can't shake the feeling that all the time the show is trying to prove how Arizona is wrongTM about not wanting to do certain stuff when, in reality, she has a totally valid point, they just picture her as uninterested or selfish about it.

Like the moment when she says she doesn't want to date newborns and it turns into Callie feeling bad, but also, it's true that it can be stressing, coming out is a whole thing and if she wasn't up for it she can just not want to do it. From then it gets worst, to the "Mark stares at my boobs" episode to the whole speech Callie gives her and Arizona having to tell her "I'm not broken". Or her wanting to see Sofia after she cheated, they act as if she wasn't her mother ever. Or during the therapy when she says "it wasn't how I wanted it" and it turns into "she didn't want Sofia AT ALL" when Callie also never planned to get pregnant, she most likely didn't want it to happen that way either. Even with the custody trial it feels like they're trying to push the narrative of Arizona being selfish, when she doesn't want to give up a day with Sofia or reschedule after she had to schedule everything again.

-🐝anon

100% - arizona is pretty much always the bad guy/wrong/always in a negative light. i think part of this is bc we see everything from callie's pov always with almost zero exceptions

let's just run through some of the things though and why it's bullshit

newborn thing: you're totally right, coming out can be a big deal and a heavy burden on a partner; we also don't know pretty much anything about arizona's dating history - there was a girl named joanne, the various girls at the hospital, and a girl named carly that arizona was so devastated by the break-up that nick had to fly from japan to comfort her - that's it; sure, arizona made a snap judgement, but I think it's unfair to really go after her for it (and to her credit, she was incredibly supportive of callie through all of the drama with her family)

the baby argument: arizona was just blatantly portrayed as the bad guy here - which is sort of shocking considering how pro-child free the show has been at points; I think she laid out valid reasons why she didn't want children and she also works a job that frequently puts her in a position to watch families go through the worst time of their lives; and then when callie comes in and is just like, oh, it's because of your brother, it's portrayed as callie 'winning' as if using a major trauma against arizona is a good call; callie (and mark to an extent) go out of their way to push the conversation at inopportune times; it's valid for arizona not want to want kids ever or at that moment in time, and callie vilifies her for it; i'd say that arizona made the right call in breaking up - at that moment in time, they weren't compatible

mark and the boobs argument: I've talked about this a few times before, but I have to say, I side heavily with arizona in a lot of the mark-callie-arizona debates, just as a precursor; arizona was uncomfortable with mark pretty much from the start and there was never a point where callie was like yeah, sure, I understand (which is ironic considering the issue of george's friendship with izzie and Meredith); callie acts like arizona is being ridiculous that she's not delighted by mark, when mark is being incredibly intrusive on their relationship (I mean, i'd be totally frustrated if my gf's bff kept planning dinners and walking in on us); but arizona is the bad guy bc she doesn't love mark

africa (you didn't mention it but I think it's important): arizona won an amazing grant and had the opportunity of a lifetime, but it was seen as like inherently negative bc callie didn't want to go; callie wasn't thrilled about Africa, but she was willing to try for arizona until webber and sloan got in her ear and exacerbated her doubts; similar to the baby breakup, arizona probably made the right call (just had crap timing - should've done it earlier); we only saw callie and how she dealt with it - which from an audience standpoint makes callie more sympathetic; they could've done a million different things to write arizona out for a few episodes and they chose to do something that tries to make her the asshole

after the cheating: obviously, arizona sucks, she cheated and that is inexcusable (which again, weird writing choice from a character standpoint); but sofia was still her kid and callie was cruel; callie was hurting horribly so it's understandable; but it's sort of heartbreaking how everyone acted like arizona had no right to see sofia

therapy and sofia: it's sooo frustrating just across the board; bc of course they both love sofia, but that isn't how they were supposed to have kids; arizona came back from Africa to have a family, a future with callie and callie was pregnant and what was arizona supposed to do?; did callie really want a baby with mark? (jury's out on that one tbh); all arizona was trying to say was that she changed a lot in her plans, in her life for callie because she loves her - she wasn't an asshole for what she said, but callie couldn't listen

custody battle: i'd say this is the first point that callie's actually portrayed in a negative light; but even then, arizona is still sort of the bad guy - she's the one who wouldn't let callie go to nyc, she's the one who called a lawyer; and then after the custody battle, arizona is the ridiculous one who won't let callie see sofia; but callie was the one who started everything, callie was the one who behaved horribly at the custody battle, so it's bizarre that arizona is still portrayed negatively

okay i realize this is very long winded, but i have a lot of thoughts on this. arizona was pretty much always, and at times, the bad guy in their relationship. which minimizes her own positive qualities and reduces callie's agency as well

[princess-of-riviaa]

Inflicting Misery Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Summary: After the world of the CIA hears of August Walker’s death and betrayal, you track him down to hear the truth for yourself.

Author’s Note: The previous chapters took place before the events in Mission Impossible: Fallout. This chapter picks up after the events of the movie.

Warning(s): Mission Impossible Fallout spoilers, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), fingering, choking

Word Count: 3,716

You double check to make sure your gun is locked as you step inside the safehouse. It’s quiet--eerily so. Your instincts tell you that someone’s here, that you’re not alone, and the silence tells you that the other person is aware of your presence and doing their best to not make a sound. You move through each room slowly, your gun raised and ready to shoot. The kitchen is empty, as well as the living room and dining room.

You make your way upstairs, but as soon as you round the corner of the hallway, a hand comes up behind you to wrap around your mouth. The attacker’s other hand grabs onto your gun and tosses it down the hall before you can fire. From the size of the body behind you, you know it’s a man. And he’s easily twice your size. You elbow him in stomach as hard as you can but his stomach is hard. He’d expected the blow and easily deflected it. His hand is still tight around your mouth, so you bite down on his fingers and his grip loosens enough for you to escape his hold and turn on him. Your fists are raised before you even take a good look at him--and then you freeze.

The attacker is August. Very alive August. Very hurt August.

For a second, you’re relieved. You’ve been recovering from your accident for six weeks now, but you still lose your breath too quickly. You didn’t have the strength to fight someone off much longer. But your relief quickly turns to something worse.

His face is so scarred and burned that you can’t even speak, can’t blink, can’t fucking breathe because the sight of him in so much pain makes you sick to your stomach and angry as hell. Ethan Hunt did this, you know it. Your boss had briefly mentioned Hunt’s name in the debriefing this morning, before announcing that August had fallen off a cliff and failed to survive the fall--the latter clearly being a lie. He just holds your gaze, daring you to look away. There’s anger in his eyes. You’ve known him long enough to know the anger isn’t aimed at you, but at whoever did this to him, at the world for letting this happen, at himself for god knows what.

You feel yourself begin to dissociate, watching your hand reach out to him rather than feeling yourself do it. He flinches back when he realizes you’re trying to touch his face. You freeze. The coldness in his eyes is replaced by a fear you’ve never seen in him before. You give him your most assuring look as you slowly inch your hand towards him again. This time, he doesn’t move. His entire body is tensed like he’s afraid to even breathe. But he lets you touch him. He lets your fingers brush over the marred skin, the layers upon layers of burned flesh. There’s just smooth skin where the curls on the left side of his head used to be. You’ll miss running your fingers through those curls.

But he’s alive. It could have been his entire body that burned. But it was just his face--and not even all of it. He’s alive, and he’s breathing, and he’s safe.

You pull him against you. When your arms wrap around him--squeezing hard enough that if he were any smaller it would hurt--you don’t think you can ever let go of him again. He hesitates. For an everlasting second, he hesitates. His body is tense under your touch and you don’t know if he’s going to push you away or say something to hurt you. His arms hang limp at his sides. But finally, finally, he hugs you back and you bury your face in his chest. Your senses are overwhelmed with August: the mint/pinecone smell of him, strongest when your nose is buried in his chest hair; the feeling of his thick muscles relaxing against your body and his arms encircling you, pulling you tight against him until every part of you is touching some part of him; the sight of that navy shirt that’s three shades deeper than his eyes and the spots where he’d clearly tried to clean blood out but had stained the material just a shade off from the rest of the shirt; the taste of your heart in your mouth, beating so fast with such immense relief that he’s alive and beside you again; and the sound of him whimpering faintly, barely audible to your ears. His chest rises and falls unsteadily and you know he’s crying as he buries his face into the top of your head. You feel the teardrops fall onto your hair and soak them, but you don’t pull away.

You’ve worked with August long enough to have gone on several missions together. Most of them were successful, but a rare few weren’t. And you know that when he has hard days or suffers tough losses--like the one he’s suffering now--the thing he needs the most isn’t someone to talk him through it. He needs someone to be there for him, to hold him and stand beside him until he’s cried all of his tears out. That’s not how you deal with your pain, but if that’s how he deals with his demons then you’ll be right there next to him, fighting those demons alongside him.

So you stand there in his safehouse, buried beneath this man’s huge ass arms, looking like a child compared to him, and you let him cry. You let him scream out all the anger and pain and embarrassment and regret that he’s kept bottled up until just now. You stand there, and you fight his demons alongside him.

He calms down several minutes later. You pull away just enough to look him in the eye.

“Tell me what the hell happened,” you say, and the tone of your voice tells him that there’s no way he’s getting out of explaining what the hell is going on.

So he tells you. He talks for what must be a good hour, explaining everything: Sloane sending him on a mission to work beside Ethan Hunt and ensure he doesn’t do anything destructive; having a falling out with Hunt and his team and them turning his back on him; ending it all on the edge of a cliff as he faced off with Hunt, before Hunt pushed him over the edge.

“That’s a beautiful story,” you tell him bitterly. “Beautifully fictitious. Are you actually lying to me right now? After everything? Look around, August. I’m the only one you have left, the only one who knows you’re still alive. Either you tell me the truth or I walk out that front door and never come back.”

He clenches his jaw. “You’re going to walk out either way. Once you know the truth...”

The look you give him makes him shut up.

“Hunt and his men discovered I’m John Lark,” August admits, watching your face as his words register in your mind.

You’ve heard the name. Everyone in your division is familiar with the terrorist who dreams of annihilating half of the world’s population and starting a new world order. August Walker is John Lark.

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that the big reveal? The big secret you’ve been hiding?”

“You’re not surprised,” he realizes. “You knew?”

“You had me edit that stupid manifesto all those years ago, remember?” you recall. “I’ve known about this whole John Lark deal before anyone else did.”

He frowns. “Why didn’t you go to anyone about it?”

“You swore me to confidentiality,” you remember. “If I check that stupid paper for grammatical errors, you’d track down my abusive father and kill him for me. Which you did. So I couldn’t tell anyone. And I knew the story would come out eventually. No one can hide in the shadows forever, not even you, August.”

“You knew who I was this entire time,” August says, still disbelieving.

“You’re August Walker,” you say, “a dangerous man with as much bloodlust as every other person in the CIA. You’ve got the right idea that the world sucks, just crazy stupid ideas as to how to go about fixing it. You’re the first and only person who saw potential in me when I first started as an agent, and you’re the reason I work under Sloane now. You’re the only friend I’ve had in the last six years. So yeah, I know who you are.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Friend? Really?”

You shrug.

“I’m not your friend,” he disagrees.

“Well then what--” you begin, but he shuts you up with a kiss. It surprises you to breathlessness.

His hands are suddenly on your hips, your tiny frame swallowed up by his large hands, and he walks you backwards until your back collides with the wall. The kiss deepens as your bodies press tightly together. August crowds every inch of your body and it’s so overwhelming and hot that you find yourself moaning into his mouth. As your mouth parts, he takes the opportunity to tug on your bottom lip before licking his tongue inside your mouth. You reach out for him. Your hands reach for his hair, but he holds your wrists against the wall over your head, keeping you trapped against him.

“You really like pinning me up to walls,” you let out, trying to make a lighthearted joke, but the breathless way you say it has an effect on him.

His erection presses into your stomach as he moves his mouth to your neck. He nips at your ear just enough to make it hurt before whispering, “I really like hearing you moan my name, baby girl.”

“Fuck,” you sigh. The deep baritone of his voice on top of his filthy admissions sets your body on fire. Your hips grind up against him, needing him to touch you. “August, please.”

“Just like that, baby girl,” he says as he adjusts both your wrists in one hand and uses his free one to wrap around your throat. “Say my name just like that.”

“Please, August,” you beg again, too desperate to put up a fight. “I need you to touch me.”

“Be specific,” he tells you as he licks a stripe up your neck. “Tell me what you want, baby girl.”

You love how dirty he makes you feel, how he talks to you like you’re the sexiest woman alive. It does things to you that you can’t explain. And it gives you the audacity you need to voice your desires. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

He hums into your neck, clearly liking the idea as he spreads your knees apart with his leg and presses into against you core. You cry out and begin to grind against his leg. You’re so wet that your heat spreads to his leg as you continue to drip through your underwear. Fuck, there’s too many layers of clothes between you right now.

“Fuck me, August,” you cry out.

He stills and pulls back from you, looking in your eyes for a sign of hesitancy. “You’re sure?”

You nod hurriedly, past the point of words. Fuck, you need him.

He kisses you roughly enough that you feel it in every part of your body. His hands move from your wrists and neck to grab your ass and lift you from the ground. Your legs instantly wrap around his waist. You never break the kiss as he leads you to his bedroom. Your heart races in your chest in anticipation and nervousness. You want this as much as you’re afraid of it.

August is gentle as he spreads you out on his soft bed. He takes his time to take off your shirt and unbutton your jeans before pulling them down with your underwear. As soon as you’re naked in front of him you close your legs and wrap your arms around your breasts. He growls in disapproval and grabs your wrists, holding them above your head. He nudges your legs apart with his own and takes in the sight of you again.

“You don’t get to hide from me,” he says, and his husky voice on top of the look he’s giving you makes your nipples harden with desire. His eyes flick down to your chest and he lets go of your hands so he can grope at your breasts.

“Oh!” you cry out as he wraps his mouth around your right nipple. He runs his tongue over the bud before clasping his lips around it and sucking--hard. Your mouth falls open with a gasp.

His left hand massages your other nipple while his right hand reaches between your legs and cups your heat. His fingers are instantly coated in your wet arousal. It makes you blush, him knowing just how wet you are, but the way he moans in approval before running his fingers between your folds just makes you more breathless. The stimulation on your breasts and between your legs is more than you can handle. You feel your body tighten as your thoughts become blurred.

“August,” you gasp out, knowing what that feeling signals. “August, I’m gonna... fuck, I’m...” You’re so fucked out that you can’t finish your sentence to warn him properly.

He continues to grope and suck on your nipples as he inserts one long, thick finger inside of you. The feeling is foreign, but it’s so fucking amazing that your walls clench around him immediately. He curls his finger inside of you just once. That’s all it takes for you to come undone underneath him. You cry out his name as you cum and your body shakes and spasms through your high.

He pulls away from you when you can breathe properly again. The smirk he’s giving you makes you blush and you want to smack him for it, for gloating in the effect he has on you. “You’re so fucking sensitive, baby girl. This is gonna be fun.”

Before you can ask what he means by that, he inserts another finger inside of you. The stretch is tight and it hurts for a few seconds. He curls his fingers inside of you and the pain quickly turns to pleasure so great that your eyes squeeze shut and you’re reduced to a moaning mess again. His fingers move fast inside of you. It doesn’t take long before you’re gasping and falling over the edge again. You cry out and clutch onto his forearm as you cum for him again. Your eyes water as your body becomes overstimulated.

August, the fucker, doesn’t even give you time to come down from your high before he moves between your legs and kisses your heat. His lips latch onto your clit. By the time you come back to your senses, your body is already writhing against him again. Your hips buck up to his fingers and mouth as he goes all out on you. His fingers move at an inhuman speed inside of you and you realize that he added a third finger at some point. You’re so wet that your pussy makes a squelching noise every time his fingers move inside of you. The noise is so vulgar that your face burns. Sweat sticks to your neck and back as your fingers clench the sheets beside you.

“Please, August!” you beg. Five minutes ago you’d been begging for him to fuck you; now you’re begging for him to relent.

But your words only spur you on and he swirls his tongue over your clit, his lips still sucking hard on your heat. Your legs clench around him as you cum again. Your body spasms uncontrollably and tears fall down your face. You’ve never felt this much pleasure in your entire life. He swallows up every drop of your arousal.

“You taste like fucking heaven, baby girl,” he groans and the sound of that noise falling from his mouth just does the filthiest things to your mind and you’re desperate for him once again. He kisses each of your thighs. “Relax, baby girl, I’ve got you.” If his words don’t have an affect on you, his mouth returning to your clit certainly does. His fingers move inside of you again and it isn’t long before you’re overwhelmed with pleasure again.

“August, please!” you cry out as tears snake down your cheeks. His fingers are moving so fast inside of you, his tongue circling your clit so intensely, that you’re about to cum again--for the fourth time tonight. And he hasn’t even fucked you yet. Your vision is blurred and your body is on fire and the pleasure is so close to turning to pain.

You need his cock.

You need him inside of you.

You need to feel him fill you up to the brim, feel him warm your insides with his seed.

You need him to claim you.

August pulls his mouth away from you and your body twitches, your nerves too overwhelmed and overstimulated to process any input in a normal manner. You open your eyes just enough to look down at him between your thighs, smirking like the fucking devil. “I’ve already claimed you, little one,” he says, and you swear your entire body burns with a blush as you realize that you just said all those things out loud.

“Please,” you gasp, your breaths coming in quick, short bursts.

He rises from the bed and you whimper at the loss of contact. You instantly miss the warmth of his body and the stimulation of his mouth and tongue making you completely soaked for him. He undresses himself slowly, taking his time with every button on his shirt. He’s fully aware you’re losing your mind with every passing second. After what feels like an eternity his shirt falls to the floor. Your eyes rake over his body. You’ve seen him shirtless before but it’s never any less impressive. Your eyes jump all over his skin, not knowing where to look first. The sight of his muscles flexing and jumping in his arms as he unbuckles his pants makes you drip even more for him. And those scars, tiny war wounds he’s gotten from what he won’t say, but a reminder that he’s dangerous all the same--god, if the sight of those scars don’t just make the filthiest things run through your mind. Your hands ache to run through that thick, dark chest hair. He steps out of his pants and you’re already so wound up that you moan at the sight of his cock, hard and huge. Your walls clench as you anticipate the sting you’ll feel as he pushes himself inside of you for the first time.

“Fuck me,” you beg when you see the lust in his eyes, making the room burn with an intoxicating, mind-numbing heat.

He’s on top of you a second later, pushing your legs apart and lining up with your entrance. You close your eyes in anticipation when he pushes the tip in and stays there, waiting for you to adjust to his size before pushing further in.

“You’re so fucking tight, I love this pussy,” he growls as he continues to sheath himself inside of you.

You cry out his name in a whimper, though it’s more out of pleasure than pain. God, the things this man is capable of making you feel... it’s terrifying how intoxicating he is.

At long last he bottoms out inside of you. He wraps his hands around your hips, so tiny in his hands, before beginning to move inside of you.

“Gonna fuck you until you cry,” he promises.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You don’t know what to compare it to. It’s so much better than his fingers. His tongue on you feels almost as good as this, but the feeling of him inside of you eclipses everything else. His grip on your hips is tight as he bucks his hips against you, his balls slapping against your ass. And, fuck it, your body is so wound up and tired and overstimulated that tears already spill down your cheeks, giving August exactly what he wants. He slows his movements inside of you to a gentle pace. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out, your brain and body too tired to function properly. August leans down and licks the tears that fall down your face. The act is so sweet, yet simultaneously so arousing, that you moan and whine.

“I love the little sounds you make for me, baby girl,” he whispers. Seconds later he’s pounding into you again, turning your whines into full out screams.

His thrusts grow sloppier, the pace quickening even more, and you wonder when he’s going to cum. Your body is at the edge too, but you’ve already cum so many times that you don’t know if you can do it again.

One of his hands move to your throat, squeezing tight enough to keep you from breathing, while his other moves down to circle your clit. Within seconds your body is so aroused that every part of you is tingling. Your walls clench around his cock as you cum. He follows seconds later. His seed is warm inside of you and shit, he didn’t wear a condom, but you’re too out of it to care or really process what all of that means.

August pulls out of you and releases his grip on your throat, letting you breathe again. He lies down beside you and pulls you into his arms. You rest your head against his chest and listen to his heart begin to slow. His fingers run through your hair soothingly. That’s the last thing you’re aware of before you fall into a deep, blissful sleep.

...

You don’t know what time it is when you wake. All you’re aware of is how sore your body is--and that August is gone. You get out of bed, wondering if he’s getting something to eat downstairs, when you notice a post-it note on the bedside table. You pick it up and read:

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Don’t come looking for me this time.

--AW

***

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