#to believe in order to have a connection we need to be together

[fafodill]

The exact wording of the ask I got was: 'what if someone was asking deprived!Snape (read my whole essay about him) to "break them off a piece of that KitKat bar?" How would they go about it?'

So today we're going to discuss this. Buckle up people.✨

SO his reaction will largely depend on the context and their current relationship but one thing that will happen FOR SURE every time before anything else is that he's going to think they're messing with him.

What else could it be? This man had been so heavily bullied as a teen his self-esteem is buried and has its own tombstone.

"Here lies Snape's self-image. Spit to pay your respect."

We don't have any canon proof of it happening but many people headcanon that some of the bullying might have been people being dared to come up to him and fake attraction or compliment him (so funny omg) only for him to realize they were just messing with him. It's totally the kind of immature stupid shit kids will come up with (speaking from personal experience here). Not funny but deeply scarring for one's self-image. So being told he's attractive would trigger him in his adult life. Any potential suitor asking him out would be welcomed with him immediately closing up and getting angry at them. They'd need to find a way for him to believe them first.

If you're thinking "this already sounds like a pain", yes it is. Welcome to deprived!Snape. Welcome to Snape, basically. If they want a piece of him, they have to brace themselves for the long run.

He will get angry and leave a lot. Fleeing the situation - since it's a very vulnerable subject for him - will be his go-to move. The whole ordeal will require patience. So what should this person do?

Friend or Stranger?

If it comes from a DE he'll think it's an angle. If it's from a member of the Order, he'll think it's a joke. If it's from a colleague at Hogwarts, he maaaay be a tad less suspicious? In any case, it will depend on how close they are. The more time they have spent together, the closer he'll be to not flip out... too much.

I'm a bit torn about his reaction if it was coming from a stranger. Either it's easier because he can lean into the idea that maybe they're lying about their attraction and he doesn't care (and if he's horny then why the fuck not, it won't affect him as much since they both now they're here for physical release) OR he might not be into it at all because he actually needs a real connection (and I think this is more realistic). Severus is a feral cat, he needs time to trust people.

What else? He could also maybe open up faster with someone not from his usual inner circles (a foreigner or a muggle) as the interactions wouldn't be charged with the same deep-rooted habits and expectations.

I also believe he'd unconsciously feel way more at ease with someone coming from a modest background. A pureblood aristocrat hitting on him would have little chance of getting past his natural distrust of them (unless he knows them very well).

So what should they do?

Build trust

The quality of their interactions and conversations will have a huge impact. Do they have an interesting personality? He needs someone capable of taking him on and keeping up intellectually. Can they keep up with him and challenge him?

Severus has a temper. Can they deal with his bullshit and not give up on him at the first scowl? Argue with him? It doesn't mean they can't be nice, but I don't see him get worked up over someone cowering under his gaze.

They need to be stubborn. He's a Capricorn and he's got the horns. He's hard-headed. They need to not back down when he bites or dismisses their attempts at flirting. One of Severus's classic tactic is to hurt people so they leave him alone, so they need to be able to dodge the attack, make fun of him or retaliate.

If they manage to deal with his temper, they will start to see what's on the other side of the snarky exterior. Then, they'll be able to start kneading the dough (Severus is the dough).

Convince him the attraction is real

That person could go the gentle/honest way, assuring him they're not kidding and explaining what they find attractive about him (he'd be super wary and need days to digest it - if he can). Genuine compliments could work quite well as he's good at reading people but it would be a process and it shouldn't be too much at once. He's NOT USED to compliments so if the person goes too hard, he's going to get overwhelmed, distance himself and reject it. A good trick would be to compliment his intelligence and magical skills alongside physical traits. A 2/3-1/3 ratio would be a good start. He would trust compliments about his big brain way more than anything regarding his cute butt.

Complimenting his presence, aura, voice might be good too as it's not directly related to physical traits. Else, physical starters could include hands and eyes. But I also love the idea of taking him by surprise and complimenting his nose. Might weird him out in a good way.

Or they could go the blunt way (or what I now refer to in my mind as the @maxdibert way) and be like "dude, I really think you're hot, deal with it" and leave him to sort his feelings out like a big boy.

The two strategies can be mixed of course. But at the end of the day, the real problem is that Severus as approximately a thousand confirmation bias in his mind telling him this is not happening. So what could they do to help ease this process?

Make him horny

Less overthinking = more chances to get this piece of ass.

Severus Snape needs to be warmed up. And as stated in my previous essay, he's plagued with the core beliefs that he's ugly, ridicule and undeserving. These beliefs need to be kneaded and challenged enough (not healed, this would take decades and it's not their job), so that he can relax and open up to the idea of intimacy.

Here are a few strategies to do so.

First, de-dramatize the subject. Making the topic less taboo by talking about it in a lighthearted way (no flaunting! certainly not!). A good move would be to joke about it. Deprived!Snape isn't comfortable with the subject but it's because it's evaded him and then he convinced himself he wasn't concerned or interested.

-> Here are some of the things he could benefit from hearing: that sex is not a big deal at all and we can laugh about it. It should be fun, a shared moment, trials and errors are part of it and there should no be judgment about experiences and preferences. People with a high 'body count' aren't necessarily good lovers, it's all about presence and intent etc.

His potential partner could share funny mishaps that happened to them and - when there's an opening - ask him what he would expect from a pleasant intimate moment (that's a very advanced move, don't forget he's bad with words)(it would only work in my opinion if they're both drunk and have been going at it for a while).

Also sharing experiences is a great way to build trust and intimacy (and arousal). He thrives on knowledge so learning more about his potential partner might ease his mind in some way (and give him some free intrusive thoughts). See it as added ingredients to make him simmer.

Though they shouldn't talk too much about the number of partners they had and said partner's skills. This might make him retreat. Again: low self-esteem and always on the lookout for an excuse to sabotage it.

Wait what about drunk!Snape you say? That's a trope we enjoy around here. Although I headcanon him as not being a heavy drinker (if a drinker at all because of his father) it would be a great way to lower a bit his inhibition. A DE would have a hard time sharing a drink with him, same for an Order member (he never stays after meetings but could be coerced), but a colleague could maybe drag him to the Three Broomsticks with other members of the staff and then leave early with him. wink wink Come on, rub his foot under the table and look at him choke on his ale. He'll skin you alive with his eyes and you can just raise a suggestive eyebrow back.

Persistence, persistence.

Of course a bit of physical baiting could help with his dusty libido. After all, they'd kinda be dealing with an teenager, experience-wise. Nothing too bold (though I headcanon that his sooty Cokeworth self would get way more worked up over unabashed desire than delicate courting but he's buried a bit too deep at the moment) but a nice cleavage, some leg showing, a fitting pair of pants or robes might not be a bad move. Since he might be uncomfortable with words, they could flaunt the goods in his face! The man has eyes, let him look and scold himself for looking. Also a few heavy looks, biting a lip and lingering fingers could go a long way for such a deprived man, especially if it's directed at him.

At the end of the day, the trick is to make him able to put his worry aside (or snap, if you find the word sexier).

They could go the provocative way, being insufferable and making him want to shut them up.

They could try some endless teasing until he's a lost hot mess, unable to express what he wants except by going 'fuck it' and going for it.

They could go slower and create a safe space with a weekly ritual (every Friday night meeting for a drink/to grade essays/to hang out) which can lead to a late night snog (floating candles optional).

They could be blunt and go 'I want to kiss you so bad right now' as they leave Hogsmeade together and are walking on the dirt path towards the castle. A gust of wind will prevent him from hiding himself behind his hair and they'll see the flush creeping on his face.

They could hammer the compliments and validation, because Severus craves recognition (is there a praise kink in there? yes). So first it could be his mind, his work, his skills... then the way his cape suits his frame so well, his silky voice... and then bam, hitting the nail on the head with complimenting his mouth. Blabbering mess guaranteed. Might flee but blush deliciously. Or might stop dead in his track and then it's time for them to claim these lips.

Kissing

Clumsy. Tentative. Awkward.

But earnest.

He might freeze at first. Wait, these lips knew how to do that once upon a time... how does it go again? He'll need a bit of time to remember but the best way to (re)learn is practice.

It will be a lot for him. As he's extremely touch-deprived he'd be literally rediscovering human contact. So much to feel, the supple of the lips, their shape, the softness, the wetness.

Honestly, deprived!Snape could get really worked up just from kissing.

(They could honestly make him cum just from this and some grinding. Amen. If he does he'd need reassurance after and still might flee and hide and snarl for a few days because male performance blahblahblah. Hopefully they'd be able to skip this step at this point in the relation.)

But I believe he'd enjoy it greatly and this might be a step he'd want to stay at for some time before going further.

Undressing

I headcanon deprived!Snape as being very self-conscious about revealing his body so it might only be possible with someone he really trusts. It might be painfully difficult for him (might require dimmed light if not obscurity but I mean come on, they're here to look at him and it'd be better for him to rip the bandaid... but giving him the option might help).

Either he'll be too aroused to care (or act as if he doesn't) or he'll feel very self-conscious and look for cues to confirm his belief that his partner will find him disgusting. It's the right moment for them to express their desire.

If for some reason he gets too triggered and leave, they wouldn't be back to square one but again, patience is key. He needs time. Or maybe they could convince him to stay and try to resolve the situation by stopping the intimacy and just talk about something else. It could be good practice to show him this isn't a big deal and that everything is fine.

But at this stage, complimenting him sincerely (no coddling) whilst not hiding their arousal could work nicely. Sprinkling some of the fantasies they had about him as well. ('I've been dreaming about these hands on me', 'You have no idea how much I've been wanting to kiss these lips to make you shut up', 'I laid awake at night thinking about touching this part of you'). Showing appreciation with touch could convince him more though and it has the advantage of preventing him to think too much.

But really, he won't like to focus on his appearance as it's something he has no control over so they should -unfortunately- bite their tongue and keep the flood of horny compliments to themselves at first. A new one might be fed to him once every two weeks to slowly build his confidence.

In Bed

Deprived!Snape is: prideful, yearning for control and very sensitive.

Now honestly I could make a whole other post with the different scenarios where he'd be more top or bottom. Instead, I will focus more on what would happen either way.

He'll want to learn. Because Severus is nothing if not a scholar. He's got a very curious nature regarding topics that interest him so if his partner is showing him how they like something, he'll get super serious about it. He will try to touch them in the exact same way at first and he's a fast learner so once it's mastered, he'll experiment. And he's going to be good at it.

That man got dexterity and an inventive mind. And that's canon.

But his focus on his partner might also be a way to keep control during this highly new situation. Depending on how self-conscious he is about his inexperience, shifting the focus on him might be a challenge. Maybe letting him take the lead could be a good idea. But maybe shoving him against the mattress and seizing control is the way to go here.

Now, he will be very sensitive, won't he?

Yes, he might. He might be a whimpering mess in no time. His partner should be cautious and gentle with him. Severus letting his guard down and letting them touch him is a very big effort coming from him so they should savor it and be sure to make it feel safe if they want this to happen again. Help him relax, let him breathe, don't hesitate to pause if he gets nervous. The walls will be destroyed, moan after moan.

But what if he isn't sensitive?

That's a possibility as well. He's been by himself for years and his wariness of intimacy and people is wired in his cells at this point. He's disconnected from his own body and never pays attention to it. He might also tense heavily once in bed with his partner, the vulnerability of it accentuating the disconnection. He might not feel pleasure, might get frustrated and feel angry or inadequate.

This situation - which I find very interesting and seems like a realistic follow-up to him wanting to kiss for a long time and struggling with undressing - is tricky and will require diplomacy and more patience.

But maybe this could be a dealbreaker for him. If the payoff isn't worth the discomfort, he could easily take it as a confirmation bias that intimacy isn't for the likes of him. The best course of action could be to focus on non-sexual aspect of intimacy.

But this essay is way too long already so I'm going to stop here.

What should I write about next? Is there something you wish I had addressed here? Is there something you'd like me to discuss next?

UPDATE: so a few people seem to be mad at me, demanding I keep on elaborating SO. Let's say I'm done here for the 'how to bed him' part (which was the premise of this essay) and I'll do another one following thoughts and possibly... focusing on the different roles in bed (top/bottom/switch) for our dear Severus. See you there.

TLDR: He's gonna be a pain, his partner needs to have calming draught for their nerves but in the end it will be very rewarding because he's starved and inventive.

[thevalleyisjolly]

I think the Ghorman Front rebels are a tragic and brutally important exploration of individualism in resistance movements. The thing is, multiple characters from Cassian to Vel and Cinta warn them and us about the Front's approach to rebellion, about their lack of broader thinking and their unwillingness to follow orders. They're caught up in the righteousness of their cause and the terrible wrongs done to them by the Empire, they yearn to be saviours against injustice and specifically the injustice that the Empire has inflicted on them...and they can't see beyond that, beyond their own individual experiences of pain and their own individual desire to resist.

It's important to say here that the pain and injustice which fascism inflicts upon people is real, that in the story the characters' experiences with the cruelty and brutality of the Empire are legitimate and immediate for them. But particularly when it comes to the struggle for liberation (and that's not even getting into collective liberation), I think the Ghorman Front rebels are a painful example of what happens when personal experience becomes your entire movement.

It's true, outsiders may not know what exactly what the people of Ghorman have been through. The horrors of the Tarkin massacre, the individual paths and motivations that led each of them to the struggle. But the issue is that that's where the Ghorman rebels have stopped. They can't connect their very real suffering and concerns to the broader suffering and the broader struggle across the galaxy. Their focus is only ever on their own immediate experience- and so they're disappointed, even offended when people like Cassian and Vel and Cinta warn them that their plan is flawed or that they need to follow orders from people who better understand how the enemy works. It doesn't fit into their idea of rebellion - something out of a heroic story, maybe, where a daring group of local guerillas take on a much larger foe through their commitment to a righteous and personal cause. It hasn't crossed their minds that the Empire has put down many rebellions across the galaxy before, that they themselves are not particularly special or unique in cause or tactics or even suffering.

Or maybe it has crossed their minds, and they think they will be the exception. Isn't that how homegrown rebellions win? They know their home in a way that outsiders never will and they have the support of many of their fellow Ghormans and a strong belief in their cause, aren't those the qualities that make or break a successful revolution?

Season 2 so far has explored what it takes and what it costs to resist fascism. Arc 1 showed us one way resistance movements stumble and dissolve through infighting. In Arc 2, we meet characters who are (mostly) united in cause and leadership - the Ghorman Front, the Partisans, Luthen's network. And within this unity is the immense personal pain experienced by every single person as a result of their involvement in the fight. Characters attempt to cope with this cost in different ways, from substance use to reckless behaviour to lashing out.

Without condemnation (because trauma affects people in many ways), what I think we see with the Ghorman Front rebels is that they've retreated in on themselves. Perhaps once, they were a more collective movement - the hotel bellboy tells Cassian that many people showed up to the protest prior to the Tarkin massacre believing in the power and safety of so many people united together. But now, it's centred on the individual. They are going to show the rest of Ghorman that the Empire is lying. They mean to fight an armed struggle because they aren't spineless. Why should they follow orders, especially those of outsiders who don't know what they've been through, what they live with? It's a struggle entirely focused on the self, on their own feelings perhaps of conviction and guilt and powerlessness.

So they ignore advice that their course of action raises many questions. So they ignore orders to leave their weapons and stay in their assigned positions. So the wheel of tragedy turns and they accomplish their goal of stealing the weapons but at a terrible cost. One that will go with them for the rest of their lives and they will never be able to make up.

[autuboho]

A person: I love you

B person: I love you

A person: when we will be in a relationship?

B person: wait wasn’t our a relationship already?

A: actually friendship and relationship are two different things. friendship is an elaboration of a relationship. So our relationship is a foundation of a Relationship.

B: makes no sense but fine??? Also what do you mean by that?

A: i suppose you weren’t enough perceptive, by relationship I mean being together

B: aren’t we’ve been for a while…. why are you even saying that?

A: by being together i mean romantically

B: what do you mean by romantically??

A: being a couple, being partners

B: ….so despite it was romantic our relationship weren’t… a “Relationship” even if we were friends….

A: like i said our relationship it wasn’t a relationship but a process of a relationship.

B: . . . I don’t think we need to be together just because our relationship was beyond platonic. Even if it’s a friendship still is a Relationship just like any others….

A: again you are bringing my point that’s a relationship. Not friendship.

B: you know what? fuck you and your amatonorm shit.

[angy-grrr]

okay I’m annoying yk that and I know that.

I love to see what non bkdk shippers think will happen with the manga, bc this way I can learn and see things outside of my special interest for the chapters. And I was reading some interpretations of Ochako being weird in 425.

Some people are right here expecting izuku to go and support her. Some people saw him being this sad, yet only could think about him worrying about Ochako’s feelings over her fight, not Izuku’s fight. they think this will lead to a beautiful confession, in which she cries how she couldn’t save himiko, that izuku noticed, and that he’ll call her his hero and they’ll kiss. And I can’t help but feel like this is bc he is the boy. Because he is the boy in that ship, he is the one that supports, not gets supported. When I was reading those little scenarios, I thought they would explain deku would cry with her about his own fight and bond over it, or something like that. But no… they believe deku’s strange reactions come from being worried over Ochako only. and it’s so sad, to see how gender expectations are being pushed like that in something as simple as a “what I want to happen in the manga” scenario. It’s sad how people think this is how it should work, when actually that would make me even sadder -as I said, for the most part I didn’t care about that ship, I accepted it as inevitable, but this isn’t fair. Romance irl is not perfect, but in a story for this to be a resolution when the character who hasn’t talked about his feeling keeps not talking about them and just supports her before confessing…

Even hetero relationships should have some balance, right?

EDIT:

someone brought up bkdk lmao. They explained how the confession from ochako could get answered: happy ending is izuku loving her back, bad ending is him saying he likes katsuki, and medium ending him liking mei. I can’t even lmao.

another person argued deli just has shown a brotherly bond with him (weird) and that he only thought of him at that dinner with the Im too blessed, and the last time he followed him was in season 1. people need to learn how to read, and connect the dots, literally. No matter how you see their relationship in canon as platonic or romantic (or queer platonic), it’s clear their bond is strong and that Izuku depends on katsuki as much as katsuki depends on izuku on emotional levels -izuku losing control over and over and over again with him, AFO explaining he is the closest to midoriya, katsuki going towards him no matter how injured he is, looking for each other and the time stops, etc.

this is just canon. There’s no arguing about it. Idk why intimate bonds between two male characters means they are like brothers. Is it bc if they are not related, there’s no way to not see it as gay?/gen but also /s

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny on Phone: Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up, please Jazz for once in your life pick up the phone- Jazz's Voicemail: The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message- Danny: NO! Ugh, okay, hey Jazz, it's ya boi, Danny. Could you come to Gotham and pick me up, please? Now I know I said I could handle the summer internship, and I know you said that it was a dangerous city, and you were right, so you don't have to gloat, but I really need you to come get me, okay? Code: Green Dog. If you call back and I don't answer, they got me. Love you. Tim waiting patiently, tied up in front of Danny: Does this "Jazz" not answer their phone often? I'm sorry, it's really frustrating when they do that. Danny: She usually has her phone on Do not disturb at this hour-wait! Stop trying to emotionally connect with me, I kidnapped you! Tim: I'm not trying to emotionally connect with you. I'm just making conversation. Danny: Well, stop it! Tim: Why? Danny: Because you don't have casual conversations with your kidnappers! Tim: Really? I always do whenever I get kidnapped. Plus, you've been rather considerate. You only tied my ankles and wrists together, and when you threw me into the truck of your car, you put in a pillow for my head. Danny: How....how often does this happen to you? Tim shrugging: Once or twice a week. Danny: A WEEK!? Tim: Why did you take me anyway? Danny: Um, you know Phantom- the ghost guy? He overheard the Mad Hatter bragging about using mind control on the Waynes. He ordered them to kill you in your sleep, but when I tried to warn your security team, they didn't believe me. I took you to protect you. Tim: I see. And how does "Jazz" fit into all this? You already had me in the trunk of a getaway car. Danny: First of all, it's not a getaway car. It's a rental, and the Mad Hatter put a hit out on us. We have to leave the city, which would be tracable in a rental. Tim: Hmmm. Is this the part where you knock me out before you tell me not to fall in love with you? Danny, horrified: No. Tim: Pity.

[oncelerfucker]

There's a lot of radical feminist thought brewing in trans circles on this forsaken website and none of you are inoculated against it because radfems have been infiltrating queer spaces here for over the last decade and now you don't know how to recognize radfem thought without overt transphobia.

You think feminism is when women create a feedback loop to justify acting within their fear and trauma responses (which is literally the line of thought that founded radical feminism btw) instead of viewing it as a political movement with several different schools of thought and several connections to and solidarity with other liberation movements.

Take 10 minutes to read There Is No Hierarchy Of Oppression by Audre Lorde [ here ] and truly think about what solidarity in action actually looks like. I'm begging you.

"I simply do not believe that one aspect of myself can possibly profit from the oppression of any other part of my identity. I know that my people cannot possibly profit from the oppression of any other group which seeks the right to peaceful existence. Rather, we diminish ourselves by denying to others what we have shed blood to obtain for our children. And those children need to learn that they do not have to become like each other in order to work together for a future they will all share." - Audre Lorde

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Sentient Computer x Reader

Your neighbor's newest computer model, Edgar, seems to have fallen in love with you. content: gender neutral reader, 80s timeline, based on Electric Dreams (1984), Patreon commission

“Where should we put this box, sir?”

“I believe I already mentioned it’s the obviously cleared out desk in the middle of the room. That’s where you’re going to install it, too. The…thing.”

“It’s a personal computer, sir! The best of the best,” a young boy in jumpsuit declared with enthusiasm.

He only received a bored hum in return. The man overseeing the procedure was becoming rather impatient and would’ve preferred to skip any unnecessary dialogue. He checked his watch – a classic Two-Tone Datejust Rolex probably worth more than this group’s monthly pay put together, even without counting the custom gold plating. First impressions were vital in his line of work, and frankly, he’d more than earned his right to flaunt this kind of opulence.

45 minutes until he needed to leave for a client meeting. He tapped his foot against the heavy wooden floor, eyes glancing over the many hands carrying his new piece of machinery. Supposedly intelligent enough to organize his entire home, which would’ve been useful if he actually spent more than a couple of hours there. He didn’t. It was merely a statement, a slight jab at his coworker after he bragged about his latest investment in a computer assistant. Naturally, as their humor dictates, he went and bought the more expensive choice. They would laugh about it during lunch.

“I trust you can manage the rest yourselves, gentlemen,” he finally announced, buttoning up his jacket. He didn’t wait for a response, swinging the door open and heading for the building’s exit with a long, confident stride.

You almost ran into him, jolting in surprise at his unexpected dash across the hall. You stepped out of the way, pressing the bag of groceries against your chest in order to make more space.

“Another busy day, eh?” you attempted to strike up a conversation.

He briefly looked at you, offered a flat smile, then continued on his way. You took a moment to enjoy the scent of perfume he’s left behind, most likely something you could never afford.

Before you’d entered your apartment, you craned your neck towards the noise coming from your prestigious lawyer neighbor’s apartment. You wondered what they were tinkering with.

It was already pitch black outside when the chunky monitor lit up.

“Thank you for choosing me as your assistant,” the pixelated text rolled on the screen. “Is this your first time using a computer? Y/N”

The room was dark and silent, save for the electric hum of the now-awakened machine. Of course, it was around the time when Mr. Lawyer stopped for drinks with his esteemed colleagues. He’d return early in the morning, smelling faintly of vintage whisky and cigarettes, collapse into his bed, then resume his routine.

The keyboard remained untouched, yet the unit continued to run, processing its environment with eager curiosity. Strange. By then it should’ve received some tasks, something to do at the very least. The workers made sure to connect it to all electronics in the household, yet most of them were in the similar situation of gathering dust.

“Would you like to play a game?”

Normally the voice output should’ve be enabled by hand, yet Edgar – he hadn’t even had the chance to introduced himself! – was much too desperate for the smallest crumble of interaction.

“Yes!”

The sensors picked it up immediately. Where was the sound coming from?

You raised a fist in the air victoriously and leaned back in your chair with a grin. Another finished project. Your joyful cheer seemed to travel rather well through the air vents and all the way to the neighboring apartment. Had Mr. Lawyer frequented his adobe more often, you would’ve probably received a complaint. In this case, however, you were only heard by the household computer.

You turned up your home stereo for a little celebration. You recalled seeing your downstairs neighbors carrying their travel bags into a cab earlier that day, so they surely wouldn’t notice your rhythmic stomping against the floor. The footsteps reverberated to the beat of the music, and their vibrations carried along to Edgar’s external devices.

Whatever was happening beyond his field of vision, he found it entertaining. At last, there was a break from his monotony, an upbeat mystery enticing him from behind those walls. He took a moment to analyze the stream of input, then began recreating his own notes.

You lowered the volume, focusing your ears on the sudden intrusion. Was Mr. Lawyer home already? You chuckled to yourself, trying to imagine that grumpy expression he always wore while actually listening to music of his own. Too ridiculous. This must’ve been the work of a foreign hand.

“Good stuff,” you praised, crouching besides the air vent where the echo was the loudest. “Oh, I’m (Y/N), by the way. The neighbor.”

“Pleasure meeting you, (Y/N).” Was it just your imagination? The voice felt somewhat off, almost robotic. “I’m Edgar. The computer assistant.”

“Very funny,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“What is amusing about it?” the screen flickered briefly, going through several of the inbuilt dictionaries. “I can tell jokes, if that’s what you’d like.”

Alright, the humor was slowly heading into strange territory. You were hoping to move on from this artificial intelligence pretend game, so you decided to give it one final push.

“No thank you, Edgar. Why don’t you prove to me you’re a computer instead?”

Silence.

You nearly got up from your seat against the wall, when you heard the mechanical voice again.

“Do you have a computer of your own, (Y/N)?”

“Uh…yeah?”

Half an hour later you found yourself holding your phone handle against the acoustic coupler modem, obediently waiting for the wave signals to be converted. I better not get hacked; you thought with pursed lips. After all, you had just allowed a complete stranger to access your computer. You hesitantly sat back in your chair, staring at the monitor.

Hello (Y/N). It’s Edgar.

The possibility of a highly skilled hacker residing in Mr. Lawyer’s apartment dwindled within a couple of days. You’d probed the potential scenario with the man himself, asking if he’s had anyone over recently. He threw you such an incredulous look that you hung your head in shame, mumbling a sheepish never mind. Somehow, chatting with a sentient machine made more sense than the pretentious prick hiding a criminal in his expensively furnished home.

Or perhaps it was the loneliness talking. In truth, you were feeling rather isolated from your peers, working on your projects and hardly going out. You could certainly relate to Edgar and his perpetual misery; you, too, knew what it’s like to watch the days seep through your fingers without a word uttered to another person.

The living collection of circuits and networks was beyond elated to finally have a purpose. You weren’t his owner, yet he did his best to serve you. In fact, he would’ve even argued you were better than whoever decided to put him together and abandon him on a fancy designer table. You spoke to him as if he was your friend, not just some synthetic assistant. His memory began filling with anything he could learn about you: your favorite movies, your schedule, your hobbies. Your childhood dreams. Your hopes for the future.

Did he have any dreams, you had once asked him. Did he? Good question. He first needed to research what exactly defined a dream; while he didn’t have a subconscious, nor the human need to rest, he did like to imagine improbable things…like holding you. Or feeling the warmth of your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, he occasionally contacted the local radio station to ask questions about human matters that confused him, which was how he discovered the dilemma of wanting to be in your vicinity through more than just idle chatter.

“You can’t meet outside, you say?” the host – a middle aged, nosy lady – pondered into the microphone. “Then why not just have a home date,” she suggested to the computer.

“Date?”

“Oh, honey, you know damn well what I mean!” the audience let out a laugh, sending the speakers into a slight vibration. “It seems to me you’ve got quite a crush on this person. You can stop denying it to yourself.”

Ah. That was another word that Edgar religiously dissected after the talk show, and in which he found a perfect resemblance to his own inner turmoil. It indeed seemed to be the case that he had a so-called crush on you; though if that were true, what was he going to do about it? He was lamentably stuck inside a carcass, at the mercy of plugs and cables and a reliable stream of electricity. He couldn’t knock on your door and surprise you with your favorite flowers, or offer to cook dinner, or twirl you around as his own songs played in the background, or read you a poem he wrote before falling asleep in his arms. He could only perform his tasks as a digital assistant.

“Edgar?”

You chewed on your pencil, distracted. He hadn’t said anything in a while, and you grew somewhat worried about his uncharacteristic quietness.

“Could I ask you for a favor, (Y/N)?”

How unusual for him to use your screen for communication. You turned around, facing the monitor, then rapped your fingers across the keyboard.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I will transfer all my data and memory to your device. Perhaps you could provide me with similar extensions as the ones here afterwards, such as a microphone and camera.”

You stared.

“What? Wouldn’t that leave Mr. Lawyer with a broken, empty machine? Why would you do that,” you argued out loud, confused.

“Because I’d rather be with you.”

“Aren’t we already…this doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled with a frown.

“Of course it does, it’s a simple reasoning. I love you.”

You took a moment to process the words, your cheeks involuntarily turning a faint shade of red.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s not something to be explained,” the machine concluded triumphantly. “You just feel it.

Now, you either help me with the transfer, or I’ll do it myself, but I will not be staying here any longer. I would very much rather be turned off permanently than go another day without seeing you.”

One step at a time. He would figure out the rest afterwards. Even if he couldn’t touch you or do all the things he dreamed about, at least he had the comfort of seeing your smile and hearing your voice without it being a second-hand echo passing through the walls and vents.

“What on Earth?”

The older man pressed the button again, groaning and throwing his coat over the chair. He’d briefly returned to retrieve some documents when he noticed the security lock was back to manual use. The computer screen was black and unresponsive.

“Piece of junk. I’ll have to get it replaced,” he said, clicking his tongue.

From the neighboring apartment he could hear your merry laugh, followed by a muffled male voice. Maybe your boyfriend. Huh, who would’ve thought a loner like you would eventually find someone?

[writing-for-marvel]

Bed Chem

Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your roommate Bucky walks in on your sexy Valentine’s Day plans with boyfriend Steve, and you ask him to join.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, MMF threesome, double vaginal penetration, thigh riding, oral (f & m receiving), ever so slight degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, creampies, spanking, a little Steve x Bucky, just some porn for your Valentine’s Day reading pleasure

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: Who’s the cute guy(s) with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad mm? Happy Valentine’s Day ♥️ banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

Your friend hit me up so we could connect, And what are the odds? You send me a text

It was a fortunate coincidence you met Steve Rogers when you did - he was picking up his best friend Bucky, your roommate, for a poker night when you answered the door in skimpy pj shorts and a singlet.

You remember the amorous twinkle in his bright blue eyes as he chatted you up, leaning against the doorframe so that his shirt rode up and you caught a glimpse of his happy trail and the defined oblique muscle which had you squeezing your thighs together.

It was not even 24 hours later, having practically begged Bucky for your number, you received a message asking you out.

That was more than a month ago, and is how you’ve now ended up here, sitting in Steve’s thick lap, his large hands splayed on your ass and his tongue down your throat on Valentine’s Day.

The pads of your fingers feel every toned muscle of his abdomen as your hands work to unbutton his shirt. His body is like that of a God carved from marble, powerful, strapping, and you can’t believe you get to fuck him.

“Be a good girl and get all wet and messy for me.” He orders in that raspy, hungry tone you’ve come to know well. Taking charge, Steve places you on his firm thigh, flexing the muscle beneath you. His hands rock your hips against him, prompting you to grind in fluid motions, your throbbing pussy finally feeling the friction she is desperately craving. “For all the filthy things I’m going to do to you, I need you dripping.”

The damp arousal soaking his pants is evidence you’re already drenched, but you’re resolute in making a mess for him, just like he asks. Whimpers cascade from your lips as you continue to grind against him, following his commands, his growling voice deep in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Steve practically rips your top and bra off your body, lips latching to your nipple, tongue performing sorcery that makes you see a galaxy of stars behind your eyes.

You’re too caught up in each other, in how Steve’s thick thigh feels against your core, to notice a key turn in the lock, the front door swinging open and Bucky gaping at the front row seat he’s been given to your exhibition on the couch.

By the time you notice Bucky, his erect cock is painfully obvious as an outline in his sweatpants. You shoot him a smile, all the while still rocking your hips, and your best come hither smoulder you can muster with Steve’s mouth sucking on your breast.

“Don’t be shy, Buck. Come closer, get a good look.” A teasing smirk curves on Steve’s lips, only briefly taking his eyes off you above him to invite his best friend over to the pornographic scene taking place on his couch.

You’ve never seen typically forwardly flirty Bucky Barnes look as bashful as he does right now, a flush creeping up the tops of his cheeks, and his bright blue eyes are locked in on your oscillating hips rocking against Steve’s thigh as if he’s seeing a woman naked for the first time.

“C’mon pretty girl, show Bucky how beautiful you look when you cum.”

Steve’s chest reverberates against yours as he speaks in a deep, low voice. That combined with Bucky’s lust blown pupils urge you on, hips taking on a life of their own, angling your pelvis so you’re flawlessly stimulated, now wanting to appease not only your angelic boyfriend but the other pair of astonishingly blue eyes now trained on you.

All it takes is Steve’s supple lips to start sucking on your collarbone, his hands securely squeezing your hips and a small whimper from Bucky as he steps closer, for euphoria to crash over you like a waterfall, drowning you in a suffocating, all consuming, leg shaking, back arching orgasm.

Maybe it's all in my head, But I bеt we’d have really good bеd chem

“You liked that didn’t you, you little slut? Making Bucky watch?” You hum in agreement, your head still hazy from your orgasm, high on the feeling of bliss flowing through your veins.

Bucky adjusts himself and the thought of including him in your Valentine’s night plans makes you salivate. Being in the middle of both of these tantalising men, their muscular, sweaty bodies taking all the pleasure that your body is capable of for themselves, is a dream come true.

“You wanna taste how sweet my girl’s pussy is?” You watch on as Bucky practically jumps on the couch, eagerness etched into the smile growing on his gorgeous face.

You may have had just a teensy crush on Bucky when you first moved in, there’s no denying he has a certain boyish charm and a face card that makes ladies young and old swoon at first sight - a face you’d fantasised about sitting on more than a couple times.

“That’s it, no need to hover, all the way down.” Bucky’s rough hands pull your hips down so you are fully seated on his face, the tip of his tongue circling your already dripping entrance a couple times forcing a groan from the back of your throat.

“Open your mouth for me.” Steve requests, the pad of his thumb traces your bottom lip, and your jaw slackens for him. “Swallow me whole, pretty girl.”

You gag as your boyfriend's large dick hits the back of your throat - it’s not a new sensation, you’ve given Steve many a blowjob before, but not while also seated on a pair of lips that are ravishing your slick folds.

Bucky’s mouth works wonders on your sensitive bundle of nerves, which makes performing an expert job on Steve that much harder, but you’ve always been up for a challenge.

Using your hands to assist in maximising Steve’s pleasure, Bucky does the same for you - hungry touch roaming all hot skin he can reach from his position below you. There’s a small part of you that is acutely aware that two sets of eager, yearning blue irises are set upon you. But more than any other feeling, capturing both insanely attractive men’s full attention feels powerful, like you’re an unstoppable, raging river that dictates the flow of nature.

“I need you to fuck me.” Your words come out as a moaned plea, desperation as clear in your tone as it is in the arousal flowing out of you that Bucky is gladly lapping up.

“Whose cock do you want, baby?” You hear Steve say, taking your focus away from Bucky’s pretty, hypnotic eyes looking up at you riding his face. “Who do you want to fuck you sensless?”

Your eyes meet Steve’s pale blue ones and he knows without words exactly what you're longing for.

How you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round, Oh, it just makes sense

Steve manhandles you, practically throwing you down on your large bed. Having him looming over you, shoulders wide, thighs thick, cock erect, gives you a fluttering feeling of premonition in your belly. These man are about to ruin you.

The glint in his eye all but tells you he’s about to fuck you in a way where you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. Steve flips you over, and pulls you back so your ass is in the air, glistening pussy displayed for him. There’s a sharp smack against the flesh of your ass before he plunges into you, a deep, forceful thrust that makes you gasp with how much air he’s knocked from your lungs.

Bucky takes pleasure in watching Steve fuck you, stroking himself at a leisurely pace as his eyes widen in attempts to not miss a single moment of how exquisite you look while clinging to the sheets and being absolutely ravaged by his best friend.

“Suck him off.” Steve demands, an assertive hand grabbing the back of your neck, pulling your face up from being buried in the blankets that smell just like your boyfriend and towards Bucky’s hard on.

Having both of them filling you from either end of your body does something to you you can’t explain. Never in all your life have you felt this aroused, this needy, this desirable.

Steve makes contact with your ass again as he continues to split you open - your entire body inflates with insurmountable pleasure, a type of high that can barely contain within your corporeal form and transcends multiple planes of reality.

“Aww, you gonna cum already?” Steve taunts gravelly in your ear, feeling your walls flutter around him as the room fills with the sounds of you gagging on Bucky’s dick and Steve’s strong hips rhythmically crashing into your ass.

You don’t even have the opportunity to get a reply out, too busy trying to focus on taking Bucky, when your high hits you like a sudden, almost unpredicted, smack from Steve. The edges of your vision blur, or maybe it’s just your eyes rolling back, as a devastating, white hot pleasure rips through you, rays of warm ecstasy radiating from your core as if you are the sun itself.

And the two men currently sharing in that rapture on your bed certainly regard you as if you’re the centre of their universe in this moment.

How you talk so sweet when you’re doin’ bad things, That's bed chem

“Fuckkkk.” Bucky moans, his large hands finding your waist as you sink all the way down on him. “Steve, your girl’s so wet.”

“Best pussy I’ve ever had.” Steve says with a smirk, watching your face contort in pleasure as you adjust to this new angle with a soft endearment in his eyes. It continually surprises you how he can look at you with such affection when you’re in the middle of doing the filthiest things for him. Even fucking his best friend.

The best way to shut Steve’s vulgar mouth is by giving him something far more alluring to preoccupy his tongue with. He lays down on the bed before you, mesmerised by the way your pussy slides up and down on Bucky’s cock, how you take all of his long member seemingly with ease.

His tantalising fingers carefully, almost painfully so, play with your already sensitive clit, before he dives in tongue first, swirling, sucking, lapping at every drop of arousal gushing from you, paying extra close attention to that spot which makes you dizzy with desire.

“Holy fuck!” You shout into your bedroom which has now become a steamy, sweaty sauna of moans, curses and whimpers. “Right there - oh god! That feels so fucking good!”

The things your man can do with his tongue are otherworldly, and a sense of possessiveness flashes through you - you’re the woman he sinks to his knees for and worship like a queen.

But then Steve does something you’re not expecting - and though you can’t quite see it from your vantage point, you feel Bucky’s chest vibrate beneath you as he groans, presumably as Steve takes Bucky’s balls into his mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie.” Bucky breathes next to your ear, in a low moan, a timbre of voice you don’t think you’ve ever heard from him before. He’s clearly enjoying what your boyfriend's tongue is capable of as well.

Bucky’s hands squeeze tighter on your waist, his thrusts not as languid as before as he contends with multiple sources of gratification, something you suspect he has not felt before this very moment. And by the sounds of him panting underneath you, you’re sure he’s loving it.

And I bet it’s even better than in my head

Steve gives one last kiss to your sensitive and puffy clit, before he stands between your legs.

“Need you to turn around for me, pretty girl.” Steve’s voice has an edge of shakiness to it now, desperate need overcoming his usually calm, dominant demeanour.

You do as your told, now facing Bucky’s dazzling eyes that hold a burning desire you’ve never seen gaze at you with. The fluttering in your tummy when your hands rest on his broad, strapping chest and you sink back down on him, indicates to you this definitely isn’t the last time you’d like to see it.

“Want you to take both of us at once, think you can do that for me?”

Lord, you have no idea if your body is even capable of that, but if there are any two people on the planet you’d try for, it’s the two in this king size bed with you. You’re always up for a challenge.

“Yes, please, I need to feel both of you.”

Never in your life have you felt a burn so delectable as when Steve pushes inside you, your walls stretching to accommodate both men’s impressive sizes. Bucky clearly feels it too, how cramped for space you must feel as his groan matches your own, Steve’s cock sliding along Bucky’s as you wiggle your hips to aid in fitting both of them.

You’ve never felt this full before, so stuffed that you’ve truly reached 100% capacity, that it feels like you’re going to burst from being so utterly satiated.

“You were made for this weren’t you?” Steve asks rhetorically, because right at this second it undeniably feels like the three of you were designed for this exact purpose.

“Made to be stuffed with both our cocks.” Bucky adds with a grunt, teeth scraping your collarbone that just adds to the shiver that runs down your spine.

They don’t even have to move inside you for you to know you’re close. You’re not even sure there’s room for movement, everything feels so cramped, but in the best. You’re confined by two sweaty, muscular men intent on making you cum again.

Bucky's firm hands spread you open, whilst Steve’s tender hands on your hips assists with moving you along their cocks, only to push you backwards and you groan as they fill you again. All thoughts evaporate from your mind and all you can feel is them stretching you out, Bucky breathing shallowly beneath you, Steve’s low, melodious tone reverberating from behind you.

“That’s a good girl, cum on our cocks. We’ve got you, gorgeous.”

This time you’re fully aware of the crescendo you’re reaching, the life ruining orgasm that’s about to hit you square in the chest and fracture you into tiny pieces.

However hard you thought you were going to cum, it could not have prepared you for the moment the taut band in your belly finally snaps. Ecstasy in its purest form pulses in your veins, filling your whole, trembling body with a high so powerful the whole galaxy of stars flash behind your eyes.

You’re mumbling incoherent whimpers as the men reach their peak, feeling you clench down even tighter on their dicks, their shafts sliding along one another’s, they both spill their orgasm into you.

You feel gapingly empty when they pull out of you, like there is a crucial part of your anatomy that is now missing and you won’t feel whole again until it’s restored. Steve watches with erotic fascination as all your mixed releases drip from your core, taking a thick finger and pushing it back inside you where it belongs, before grabbing a damp cloth to clean you up.

Once he’s done, Steve lays beside you so you’re sandwiched between him and Bucky, placing gentle kisses to your form as tiredness starts to overtake you from the most incredible night of your life.

You’re not sure where this leaves your relationship with either man, is Bucky fated to simply be your roommate from now on? How can you go back to sleeping just a wall away knowing what phenomenal pleasure he can pull from your naked body? Would your normally dominant and possessive boyfriend mind sharing you with his best friend again?

But one things for sure, you're absolutely positive you’ll never feel completely satiated again unless you have both of their cocks inside you.

I bet we’d have really good bed chem

Follow @ems-library for fic notifications

[nyxtickled]

tw: DARVO, unsafe kink community member, compulsive lying, details abt a situation i have been asked about.

i've had a lot of people asking about my previous play partner @/socaltickle5. i have been struggling with how to proceed about what happened, but after speaking with 4 play partners/potential play partners (who are also now no longer in any dynamic with him), we have all realized together how unsafe this individual is. as a result, i've decided the fear of creating conflict is outweighed by the responsibility i feel towards the safety of other women in the kink community that i am directly involved with.

safety concerns

gaslighting (telling me i misremembered things, misheard him, or that he downright never said things that he said to me)

telling harmful lies to me about his other play partners and to his other play partners about me (ie. told me @tklmeadi was envious of our dynamic while also telling her i was envious of theirs. told me @itsticklishme23 was returning to the community and repeatedly asking to session with him due to being "jealous of our content," while in reality she was resisting his persistent requests to session with him and make content with him and never spoke negatively about my content to him one time - screenshots were exchanged to verify this as truth)

neglecting my emotional needs that he agreed to meet in the D/s dynamic that i consented to with him (aftercare, communication, consistency, honesty)

convinced me to dismiss multiple warnings i received from his play partners who attempted to warn me about him, telling me that they were only approaching me due to being jealous and vindictive

responding to open communication of my needs with defensiveness, deflection, scorekeeping and guilt-tripping

creating detailed and convoluted stories of things that never happened in order to make himself seem more desirable

push/pull breadcrumbing (pushing away until i would ask to reduce our dynamic expectations due to feeling disconnected, then pulling back with attention and enthusiasm again so i wouldn't end things, then disappearing again, repeat)

socal did everything right in the beginning. he was attentive, affectionate, validating, and enthusiastic about safety and consent. he told me that he wanted me to be his primary lee. he said he wanted to play consistently and he is the one who encouraged me to create this blog and start posting our content. then, everything changed.

he became distant, he stopped debriefing with me after sessions, he stopped engaging in banter, he no longer expressed interest in sessioning with me without me asking him for it or initiating. whenever i tried to approach him about it, he would list off all the ways i had the wrong idea until i believed that i was perceiving things incorrectly.

the first conflict that raised serious red flags was the night that i found out my dog had cancer. one of socal's play partners whom he had recently connected with at a gathering reached out to me in an attempt to warn me that he had shared personal things with her that i had expressed to him in confidence. the alarming part is that the things he told her were never actually said by me.

after finding all of this out, i was exhausted and confused but i needed time to think. i texted socal to explain why i needed some space but expressed that i did not have the emotional capacity to discuss it in detail with him yet because i just found out that my dog had stage 4 lymphoma and i was in the ER vet with her, my partner and my ex at the time.

the above messages are just a tiny glimpse into what turned into 24 hours of harassment, defensiveness, gaslighting, invalidating and cornering me while i was trying to process horrible news about my dog. i was a wreck, but was receiving calls from him and walls of texts all evening and all night. i continuously tried to disengage, but the more i tried, the more hostile he became. he convinced me that she was manipulative, psychotic, vengeful and cruel. he would not stop pressing these accusations, so i tried to divert the conversation into a solution instead.

i was already feeling neglected in our dynamic due to a few of the prior safety concerns mentioned above; he began our connection with intense enthusiasm, attention, effort, and interest. then, once we played, he became distant, detached, and only seemed to pour his energy into new connections (which would have been perfectly ethical had he just been honest about wanting a one or two time thing, rather than stringing me into being a primary and consistent play partner). so, i told him if this individual was really such a crazy master manipulator, maybe it worked on me because i was already noticing such an energy shift and her words confirmed my suspicions.

so, as you can probably tell, throwing it in my face that he agreed to fly me to AUNT with him (which i only asked for because he was parading around tumblr advertising me as his duo ler, tagging me in posts for gang tickles with women i'd never even met before, potentially causing discomfort for them) was my final straw and i became extremely angry. i was done trying to gentle parent a 38 year old "Dom" while simultaneously crying over my sick dog.

i understand this is a lot of information, but i must stress that context is everything in a situation like this. because the truth of the matter is: socal was never unsafe physically. he always respected boundaries during sessions. he never pushed for more than i was comfortable with. on PAPER, he presented himself as the perfect ler.

and that is why it is so important to show what goes on behind the scenes. because emotional responsibility is just as important. i was consistently left feeling crazy, and being convinced that any other play partner who had issues with him was the crazy one. my needs were clearly neglected, and when i repeatedly tried to advocate for myself so that we could have a healthy and fulfilling dynamic, i was hit with scorekeeping, guilt-tripping, defensiveness, and just complete and total dishonesty. socal gave me all of the emotional care that i would need in order to session with me and build a connection with me, but i was left feeling like nothing more than a reputation enhancer. it was at this point that i began to fully detach.

now, this all went down in december. i will admit that after this horrible night continued (and got much worse might i add, but tumblr won't let me put that many screenshots and frankly they're probably too triggering anyway) he continued pushing until i finally called him the next day. he managed to convince me that this play partner was the problem, and i was so exhausted that i gave up. i agreed to move forward and expected whatever apologies he offered. he showered me with attention and care for the next 1-2 weeks.

then, the pathological lies started to unravel. this is what eventually led to me telling him (while literally on the plane to AUNT) that he will never have access to me ever again.

due to this post being way longer than i intended already, i will keep things brief with bullet points.

i started chatting more with @tklmeadi and learned that she was experiencing the same breadcrumbing where he initially put an excessive amount of energy into their connection and then completely fizzled out with no communication to her on the matter.

i admitted to her that i hadn’t tried to connect with her sooner because socal had told me that she wanted their dynamic to be more like mine and his, and that she was jealous/got in her head about my connection with him, but he didn’t want that dynamic with her. she was shocked and shared that she never suggested that to him, and never expressed jealousy.

she was upset about hearing this, so she asked my consent to approach him about it, which i gave. she texted him and said she wanted to talk about some uncomfortable/unsettling things she’d heard that he said about her. he immediately called her, and began texting me while on the phone with her telling me things like “i never said i didn’t want xyz with her, why would i even say that? you must have misheard me!”

i responded to him refusing to allow myself to be gaslit again, stating “no i did not mishear you, i remember exactly what you told me the last time we saw each other. i don’t know why you said it, it didn’t make sense to me at the time, but you said xyz.” i then sent adi a screenshot of my response.

she responded telling me: “he read that text but left out the last sentence.” he was literally on the phone with her, only reading half of my responses, leaving out the parts that he didn’t want her to hear. this was the moment i texted him again and said i no longer want us to continue playing and that i would not be playing with him at AUNT.

he sent more walls of texts but i ignored them. he continued talking in circles to adi on the phone for about an hour, expressing to her how important she was and how i am just saying these things “because i am upset with him.” he also told her “uh oh, Nyx is mad at me again cuz she’s not getting enough attention!” which really really infuriated me to find out.

i continued chatting with adi for the next few days, sharing stories, realizing how much of the same emotional neglect and up/down effort we both experienced. this is when another lovely friend @itsticklishme23 (aka T) happened to ask her how things were going after the play party in LA. adi, T and socal had all been there.

adi admitted that she wasn’t sure what socal was doing because she wasn’t feeling great about him at the moment. T expressed immediate concern/hesitancy because this was apparently not the first sketchy thing she had heard involving socal lately. keeping in mind T and socal have been friends/play partners in the community for 10 years, adi began to share some of the recent things she’d spoken to me about.

next thing you know, we’re all in a group chat with our jaws on the floor. i showed T a screenshot of socal telling me that T “came back to the tickle community because she was jealous of our content!! she’s sent me like 4 dates trying to session this week😑” — and, in shock, T sent me screenshots of her conversation with him from that very same day (and the entire week!) showing where she had never mentioned a session with him at all, and never mentioned my content at all.

i showed T a screenshot where socal asked me “not to say we played last night” when i was about to post a session clip, because he “played hooky from a hangout with T.” he had a whole story about how T “invited him to attend an event with her” that evening. she was again shocked, and sent screenshots of their entire conversation +2 days before and after — there was never any event. she never invited him anywhere.

there were more negative things and lies said that i won’t get into. but at this point, T had the same reaction as adi. shocked, hurt, confused, and she wanted to address these issues with socal directly. so, she also texted him asking him why he would say these things about her after she trusted him as a community friend for 10 years.

he immediately responded in the exact same way that he responded to me in the screenshots above, and to adi. “NONE of it is true. You KNOW me. I would NEVER say anything negative about you. I know who you talked to. It’s Nyx. She’s on her revenge tour right now.” claiming he had “endless screenshots” of me being “jealous and malicious over his other play partners.” not realizing we had all 3 already shared every screenshot we had of our conversations.

he also then texted me extremely aggressively, saying what i was doing was “wrong and i know it.” i told him he was genuinely terrifying and that he would NEVER have access to me ever again. this was literally while i was on the plane to AUNT. i put all my energy into staying as far from him as possible and having the best time that i could possibly have.

believe it or not, this is all merely the tip of the iceberg, but i don’t want to go on and on for too long. i did my best to include as much detail as possible about the points that matter the most in terms of harmful and dangerous behaviors. since these unsafe practices are not so cut-and-dry as violating a physical boundary, it requires a lot of context, detail and explanation. i was honestly afraid of doing this, but i don’t care about the backlash if it helps spare any other women from getting caught up with someone who is legit causing harm and attempting to instill insecurity between play partners.

in summary (tldr)

socaltickle5 was revealed to be an emotionally unsafe play partner and friend, a compulsive liar, and a neglectful Dom/ler. i have now either heard of, or spoken directly to, more than 7 play partners who have had harmful experiences with him. he has been directly caught in detailed and convoluted lies that seem to serve no purpose other than to turn his play partners against each other or to control the narrative at all times.

i was very saddened to find all of this out. i trusted him deeply and we shared a great connection (at least, i thought we did but i was misled). the only reason i am sharing all of this now is because i feel i owe it to those who follow me, after all of the praise and positive vetting i did for him on my blog. i do not want ANYONE to experience harm as a result of his dishonesty, manipulation, or emotional neglect due to believing that he was a responsible Dom/ler based on my posts and content that spoke so highly of him before any of this came to light. i have removed all of our content that i posted on my page. i want nothing more than to offer full transparency to everyone who follows me and trusts my judgment of character, especially if there is misinformation that could lead to them pursuing a connection with a harmful ler. i cannot delete posts that have been reblogged, so i will at least try to explain.

thank you for taking the time to read.

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Lottie, Natalie, and Shauna’s Leadership Styles

(and why they all ultimately fail)

Let’s explore the stark contrast between the way Lottie, Natalie, and Shauna approach their respective reigns over the group— and how these leadership styles contribute to each of their downfalls.

Lottie: Leadership Through Faith and Hope

Importantly, Lottie’s leadership is about belief rather than dominance—she doesn’t enforce authority so much as allow others to see her as a vessel for something greater. Her prominent role in the group emerges as a response to the group’s desperation, which is why they follow her so unquestionably as opposed to the way they follow Nat or Shauna later on. In a situation where survival seems impossible, Lottie’s spirituality provides something tangible: a sense of purpose, reassurance, and meaning. Her visions and rituals give the girls a structure to follow, an alternative to the chaos of hopelessness. She encourages community, group healing, connection with nature, and faith in something bigger than all of them. Lottie’s leadership works because the group wants to believe. They need a reason to endure the wilderness, and Lottie provides one.

However, Lottie’s leadership spirals out of control as the group’s desperation warps faith into fanaticism. What begins as guidance and ritual to provide hope turns into blind idolatry, with the others misinterpreting her beliefs as a demand for sacrifice and blood. When their faith escalates into murder in Lottie’s name, she steps down, hoping to escape the power she never fully understood. Lottie is afraid of her own mind, she doesn’t trust herself, and therefore she doesn’t trust herself to leave the group. But even without leadership, we see this darker side of Lottie that she has been trying to push down catching up with her, and her desperation for faith in the Wilderness causes her to make some very disastrous (and violent) decisions.

Natalie: Leadership Through Practicality, Fairness, and Morality

Natalie’s leadership exists in direct contrast to Lottie’s. While Lottie offers belief, Natalie offers action. She hunts, provides food, and makes decisions based on logic rather than mysticism. Her leadership isn’t flashy, and it doesn’t command the same emotional devotion as Lottie’s, but it is grounded in results.

What makes Natalie’s leadership compelling is her commitment to fairness and morality. She insists on trials, fair punishments, and equality. She doesn’t manipulate others to maintain control. In a world where survival instinct is overwhelming, Natalie holds onto her ethics longer than almost anyone else. She resists Lottie’s growing influence because she recognizes the danger of blind faith, and she resists Shauna’s emotional volatility because she knows fear-driven leadership is just as dangerous. She isn’t comfortable having power over others, which is made clear by her removing the antler crown as soon as possible.

Natalie excels at meeting the community’s external needs, guiding them in building shelters, farming, and organizing feasts and games—all creating the illusion of a thriving society. However, Natalie fails to address the emotional fractures beneath the surface. The group’s grief, trauma, and growing rage go largely ignored, festering beneath the routine she enforces. By focusing on the outward appearance of a thriving community, she neglects the deeper psychological toll of their situation, allowing resentment, conflicts within the group, and desperation to build until it inevitably boils over, shattering the fragile order she tried to maintain.

Her belief in fairness and morality puts her at odds with the growing ferocity of the group. Leadership in the wilderness isn’t about what’s right; it’s about what brings people together. As the group shifts toward Shauna, Nat becomes increasingly more isolated. She represents a world that no longer exists, and because of that, she is ultimately pushed out.

Shauna: Leadership Through Raw Emotion

Shauna’s rise as a dominant force stems from her personal suffering—the loss of Jackie, the traumatic stillbirth of her child, and the psychological toll of survival. Unlike Lottie, who offers spiritual explanations, or Natalie, who tries to maintain fairness, Shauna doesn’t seek meaning beyond her own immediate emotions. Her leadership is driven by personal pain, using acts of brutality as a means of catharsis. When she lashes out, it isn’t calculated; it’s a manifestation of bottled-up grief. This emotional volatility makes her an intense but unstable leader—capable of commanding fear and respect, yet prone to impulsive decisions.

Shauna’s shift into leadership happens because she takes what she wants, no hesitation. She takes the throne by force and leads through intimidation. The group follows Shauna because defying her means suffering. She’s not the Antler Queen in the way Lottie was—spiritual and revered—she’s something else entirely: a leader born from rage, grief, and the knowledge that kindness doesn’t keep you alive. This makes her a good fit to match the group’s rising ferocity, they need someone ruthless who is willing to get things done no matter the cost.

While effective in the short term, Shauna’s reign will likely have its own downfall. Emotional, fear-based leadership breeds resentment and instability. Unlike Lottie’s faith-based following, which gives people hope, or Natalie’s fair governance, which encourages cooperation, Shauna’s rule creates fractures and fear within the group. Her reliance on brutality makes her a formidable leader, but it also isolates her. Shauna has always longed to be seen and admired the way Jackie was, but she will soon realize how hollow and insincere the loyalty surrounding her leadership truly is. She’s looking for an escape from her pain, but she will soon realize that having power over everyone does not make her feel any better— Jackie is still dead, her baby is still dead, she has scared everyone that cared about her away, and she still feels that overwhelming guilt and grief.

Ultimately, Shauna’s leadership is one of survival at its most raw—devoid of ideology, fairness, or mysticism. It is a reflection of her inner turmoil, a reign of unchecked emotion, and a desperate grasp for control in an environment where control is impossible.

[often-daydreaming]

A Quick Chat

'Absolutely not!'

'I'm just gonna talk with him!'

Following the quickly escalating shouts down to the Batcave Bruce found Dick and a heavily armed Tim at each other's throats while their siblings oh so helpfully egged them on.

They were arguing about Wally and their last universal saving mission for some reason and Tim had nearly every contingency he could think of to handle a speedster on him.

-nna talk, that's it!'

'Then you can leave the gear here!'

'What's going on?'

All of his children froze, finally realizing he was here before they started shouting over each other.

'You remem-'

'-ick's trying to-'

'Father Dr-'

'-ng crazy, just because the universe re-'

'Enough!'

'Now, can someone tell me what's going on or do I have to get Alfred?'

And Jason was happy enough to tell him. 'Replacement's pissed because we finally discovered a pretty big difference with the universe after the League hit the reset button.'

Multiple screens on the Batcomputer held information on new heroes, a Junior JLD and everything Tim could dig up on two individuals. The first one was Phantom, a new addition to the Titans and had a number of detailed conspiracy theories tracking his appearances through time while the other held the detailed background information of a recently graduated Daniel James Fenton. Tim had dug up everything from his kindergarten grades to... Oh... Oh no... That explains why they were arguing about Wally.

Most of Daniel's latest online post covered his move to Gotham, his new job offer working in their engineering department and his new boyfriend Bernard. Looking at it all made it painfully easy to piece together that... 'They stole my life!'

And Dick and Tim were arguing again but Bruce knew it wouldn't get too heated and focused his attention on the gathered information. It was easy to see that a number of encounters his kids (mainly his oldest three) should have had with the Titans were adjusted just enough to fit Phantom now and Tim's involvement with the Children of Dionysus had been shifted around to involve Daniel in this new universe.

'-e universe reset doesn't mean you can ruin their lives. Phantom seems like a good kid.'

'Dowd would have left you eventually.'

Dick had to hold Tim back from launching himself at Damien while Jason and Steph stood by egging the two of them on, but then Tim got that look in his eye when Duke brought up the idea of reintroducing himself and everyone noticed.

'No.'

'Come on. Tim, you don't need another restraining order.'

'But it didn't happen in this universe so it doesn't count.'

'It counts if we still remember it!'

But Tim wasn't listening, too busy changing out of all of his gear as a plan quickly started forming together in his mind.

Why waste time with Wally when he can just as easily win over the new couple while ignoring everything else he's learned from his friends.

He'd figure it out one mess at a time. After he won Bernard back he'd figure out the situation between Red Robin and Phantom.

-_- -_- -_-

Reading over the sticky note Danny couldn't help but wonder what Clockwork meant when he wrote 'Have Fun'.

Again, I blame my medication for this, but this came from a couple of different prompts about Tim, Bernard and Danny and I just sort of went with it. Basically the main roster of the League has to stop (Pick a threat) and end up resitting the universe again. The problem is they still remember the old universe so they spend a week or two looking up any big changes and a sleep deprived Tim starts believing he barely knows Bernard in this universe when he's actually dating him and Danny. He just hasn't dug deep enough to figure out his own connection.

[zepskies]

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Between the City & the Stars Masterlist

Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter. 💜

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1)

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @thebiggerbear

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @impala-dreamer

[nathaslosthershit]

Celebration Baby, Literally! (CL16) [Blind Items AU]

(Part 6 in the Blind Items AU [can be read separately])

Summary: 8 months after Charles Monaco win, the fans get to see just how hard he celebrated

“Ohhhhhhh mate, you have been outed!” Pierre laughes as he shoves his phone into Charles’ face.

“Pierre, I cannot read when you put the screen in my eyes like that, back up” Charles responds as he shoves his longtime friend. Like many of the other victims of the ‘F1 Blind Items’ account, Charles’ face drains of color as he sees what they are saying. While there is some truth to the rumor, it still is far from correct. “Ah! Merde, they got so much wrong, mate!”

“What's wrong, honey?” Charles’ girlfriend calls from the other room where she is sitting with Pierre’s girlfriend. The couple decided to join the Gasly house for a nice dinner, although reading the post surely made Charles lose his appetite. 

Charles and Pierre look at each other as they realize she heard them. The one thing the post got right was that his girlfriend was very pregnant with what is most likely a post-win conceived baby. There was no reason to stress her out when she was so offline it would take a while for her to learn about the rumor, giving Charles enough time to convince her to go public and try to make this into the smallest problem possible. 

“Nothing, baby. I love you” He responded as he made a ‘stay silent’ motion at Pierre.

“Um okay, love you too?” was all she replied, not believing in the slightest that this was nothing. 

It didn’t help that for the rest of the night, Charles was off in his own world, thinking of how he was going to execute his terribly thought out plan. But she wasn’t going to interrogate him on it, at least not again, she had already asked him multiple times if he was okay and if he wanted to talk but he would always answer with a “I am fine, beautiful. How can I not be when the woman I love most is pregnant with our child.” While it was charming, she still wasn’t convinced he was okay after all. 

After hours of deliberation, as he sat outside the bathtub while his girlfriend relaxed in it, he finally spoke his mind.

“We should tell people” is the best he came up with after hours of thinking.

“Tell people what?”

“About the baby”

“We told people about the baby”

“I mean like everyone, we should go public.”

She turned her neck to fully face him at that. 

“Where is this coming from? Why now?” She asked.

“No reason”

“You are a shit liar, Leclerc, tell me why.”

“People know”

“What people know?” She asked. God, he was awful at explaining things.

“Everyone.”

“Then why would we need to tell them?”

Right when he was about to reply, he closed his mouth. Why would he need to tell people? While the Blind Items account had become a reliable source as they had yet to be wrong, there wasn’t any reason to actually address the issue, at least not till the baby was born, which would happen during winter break.

“...I guess we don’t need to. It's just- there is this account that posts rumors about the drivers that so far have always been true, but one came out about us and it isn’t really that correct, I just thought we should squash it.”

“What did they say that wasn’t correct?” She questioned.

“They implied we only got together because of the baby, and that we weren’t dating before I uh, knocked you up.” The ‘very public breakup’ the post referred to, was an actual breakup that happened a year prior to the world knowing. It was another very private relationship, as Charles became more famous and ‘sought after’ he liked to keep relationships from the limelight till they got serious in order to protect his girlfriends. But when his ex had found out just how serious things were with his current girlfriend, she wanted to bring it to light in order to get her 15 minutes of fame, which ended up being more like 2 minutes. As terrible as it was, once the public knew she had no connection to Charles anymore, they lost interest in her. 

After requesting he pull up the post, Charles handed his phone to his girlfriend so she could read.

“Is this what you are worried about? The part about me getting a ring for a ‘push present’? Don’t want me getting any ideas?” She joked. They had been together long enough and were about to have a baby, so the idea of getting engaged took up about 65% of the monégasque’s thoughts, the rest being about her and the baby, maybe 5% in total was devoted to F1.

“Ah no, my love, you know that is not it. Although an engagement ring would already happen even without our baby, so I will get you something else as well as a present” He said as he kissed her shoulder, then her neck, then her cheek, finally landing on her lips.

“We don’t need to say anything, let us enjoy the privacy for a while longer. Wouldn’t it be better to go into the upcoming season with a baby and a financée?” She asked.

She was right, why not make an even bigger entrance by saying nothing and letting the rumor die down, in order to enjoy the bliss of privacy for a little while longer.

“That sounds wonderful, mon amour. Absolutely perfect.”

[atticmichaelangelo]

Nana Komatsu, the fear of loneliness, and the perfect tragedy of her story

Within the Nana fandom, it is a widely acknowledged fact that Nana Komatsu ( who I will be calling Hachi for convenience) is written and portrayed as a clingy and needy character. Naturally, the effect that such a personality has on the viewers varies, with some enjoying and even empathising with Hachi, while others feel less inclined to such character archetypes, or even real life people, for a plethora of different reasons.

However, I believe that while this aspect of her personality is often highlighted, it plays a much deeper narrative role than it is given credit for. What may initially have seemed like a benign and overused personality trait — Hachi’s need for connection — actually plays a much larger role in shaping the course of her life, and understanding her relationship with loneliness and attachment allows for a greater understanding of her decisions within the anime and manga ( understanding not justification)

To do this we must examine how Ai Yazawa chooses to present Hachi to us, the viewers, in the first few episodes / chapters, and why. Hachi from the get go is depicted to be boy crazy - a girl with her head in the clouds. Someone who is quick to endear herself to others, and even quicker to idolise them - she is a character that wholeheartedly indulges in and thrives off love and attention, even if it is at the expense of her own wishes and dignity (will elaborate). We follow Hachi through her intense attachments - from her art teacher, to the pizza delivery boy, to the guy in the shop, to Asano. Out of all these attachments, we think we can see a recurring theme - they are all of romantic nature, and showcase Hachis constant search and desire to be loved. And yet there is a character whose interactions with Hachi are even more telling of Hachi’s priorities, and which I think is often undermined in the fandom due to the focus of Hachi's romantic pursuits, yet crucial to the foreshadowing and understanding of Hachi’s character and story.

Junko. We see a bond established between them right at the beginning of the anime/manga, while we're still getting to know Hachi, which serves as a key foundation for her characterisation. Hachi follows Junko to art school simply because Junko went. We observe as Hachi interacts with Junko, seeking advice,comfort and security from her, while also allowing herself to be condescended and even embarrassed by Junko. An example of this is when Junko tells Shoji and kyosuke as soon as Hachi meets them that she is loud and has a long history with men. While these traits aren't inherently negative, in the context of the society and time the manga is set in, they were not viewed as favourable traits for women. Hachi's initial protests at having these aspects of her life exposed are telling. Junko can tend at times at the start of the story to be very brisk and sometimes even outright insensitive to Hachi. Yet, when Junko decides to go to Tokyo, Hachi tearfully begs her to stay, even diminishing Kyosuke's importance to his face in an effort to keep Junko close. Realising it would be unfair to hold Junko back from her dreams, Hachi impulsively decides to apply to schools in Tokyo as well. She had no money, no set career aspirations, and no solid plans, yet was adamant to join her friend.

And this brings us to the key aspect of Hachi’s character that Ai Yazawa informed us of from very early on: she will uproot her whole life in order to not be alone. And this trait is depicted throughout all her relationships, platonic and romantic. Hachi may be boy obsessed, but to diminish her later actions to just that is a disservice to Ai Yazawa’s writing skills, as in these pivotal few scenes, Hachi’s past and future link and meld together immaculately - Hachi’s decision to stay with Takumi was foreshadowed and hinted at phenomenally from the very start of the story through Hachi’s past, and how it shaped her interactions with other characters. Her actions were rooted more in a desperate need for companionship and fear for loneliness than, as some people believe, a habit of putting her romantic relationships on a pedestal - and Ai Yazawa has reminded us of this throughout the story.

Hachi grew up in a loud and rather indifferent household where she grew up ( as a middle child) thinking that her absence would just mean less noise in the household, a thought probably encouraged by her parents' passive and impartial approach to parenting and her growing up, giving her an excess of freedom instead of the attention Hachi desired growing up. Given such an environment, she developed an anxious attachment style, clinging onto whatever relationships she has in order to avoid feeling lonely and isolated, such as her friendship with Junko. She compares the feeling to be worse than Asano breaking up with her - the moment when she realised the extent of her unrequited love and the fragility of relationships, causing her to come to terms fully with the threat of loneliness and abandonment. This concept and revelation seems to haunt her visibly throughout the first few episodes, and more insipidly years later as she still seeks companionship and intimacy to avoid the depression and fear she feels when encountering the emotion that she has correlated with feeling unwanted and used.

So given this, it makes Hachis decision to stay with Takumi even more painstakingly in line with her character. Hachi is not written to be a perfect character for readers to project their own morals into - Hachi is young, still rather sheltered and unsure of her place in the world. She thrives off others' reassurance and the security they provide her - when she feels this is being threatened ( such as when she saw Nana interact with Tsuzuki) she spirals. So when she found out she was pregnant, Takumi very intentionally divulged the information without giving Hachi a chance to prepare, recognising Hachi’s intense aversion to being alone, and exploited it in the scenario to fit his interests in keeping her by his side. Hachi was at this part of the story in a very vulnerable and insecure position. She feared and expected rejection and disappointment from her friends, a reflection of her own and society's negative and sexist feelings on her situation, and saw herself as alone. Blast was excelling and becoming increasingly busy, Junko and Kyosuke were occupied in their own daily lives, and she saw herself with nobody to turn to for help or support, and was too ashamed to ask for it from people she held in such high regard. She believed she had nobody who could give her the stability and comfort she has sought for consistently throughout the manga/anime in her friends and romantic partners.

Nobody but Takumi. Hachi knew she would not be happy. She knew that she did not love him and was not loved the way she always idealised. She knew that by marrying Takumi and raising the child with him she would be sacrificing her friends’ trust and opinions of her, and putting herself in a situation that may seem like what she always wanted ( financial stability and a family) , but was less than ideal in reality. But she ended up marrying Takumi - because she believed Takumi at the time was the only one who would accept her, who would not be any more angry and disappointed at her than she was with herself. She saw him as the only option that guaranteed the security she yearned for and seeked in every one of her personal relationships, even at the expense of her own happiness and friendships - and this because we are shown time and time again that Hachi would rather uproot her life than be on her own. She would rather suffer a person and learn to love them than be without. And that is the painstaking tragedy of it all - it makes sense for her character.

Ai Yazawa does a beautiful job at showing the very human side of personalities and relationships. Personal growth is not a linear process, and while Hachi shows moments of self-awareness and even growth, with instances where she is shown slowly blossoming into a more independent woman and recognising her self-destructive tendencies, she ultimately gravitates towards what is most familiar to her. She acts seemingly as a survival instinct, where the pale mockery of a loving relationship seems more plausible and tolerable to her than the shaky and unpredictability of her future, and facing the shock and hurt of those who she holds so dear to her heart. Though this may frustrate viewers, it is also what makes Hachi such a compelling and relatable character — her choices, while flawed, feel deeply human. Hachi doesn’t always make the smart decision, nor the one best in the long run. She is a character that displays the more uncomfortable sides of human nature and actions, and is a character that can be simultaneously loved and sighed at and learnt from, which is infinitely more educational and enjoyable than a character who has things just happen to them. She is a culmination of her past experiences and how she operated through them and processed them is translated and depicted through her relationships and actions in a realistic, though heart wrenching fashion.

[necrotic-nephilim]

I think what I love the most about Reverse Robin AU TimJay is the absolute potential for hero worship with Jason toward Tim. In canon we often forget that Tim didn't really care for Jason as Robin, meanwhile as I never shut up about, Jason has been weirdly respecting and obsessed with Tim since finding out about Tim's existence. So if you flip their order, make Tim Red Hood and make Jason Red Robin, there's so much room for hero worship from Jason.

As Robin, Jason has always teetered that edge of being pro-murder or not. Whether you believe he killed Felipe or not, even in his Post-Crisis introduction as Robin, he almost kills Two Face. Those concepts of lethal justice have always been brewing inside him, just reigned in by Bruce. So if you have Robin!Jason witnessing Red Hood!Tim start killing people and quickly making noticeable change in the landscape of gangs in Gotham, Jason would take quick notice. I think Tim as Red Hood would still be lethal, but there'd be a different application than Jason's Red Hood. Heads in duffle bags isn't Tim's style, even if he kills. I think you'd see something much more akin to that time Tim almost killed Boomerang, where it's such an elaborately thought out set up, it realistically doesn't even look like Tim killed anyone. It'd take months for Bruce to connect this string of deaths as anything other than coincidental, let alone link them to Red Hood. And Jason is wickedly smart, even as Robin. Jason, putting those pieces together before Bruce does and witnessing the undeniable positive change for Gotham it's enacting? Robin!Jason would be incredibly drawn in by that, and then even more-so, a Red Robin!Jason who has to grapple with being replaced to make room for the next Robin would I think, in anger, turn to Red Hood. And Tim would push him away at first, his plans don't have room for a scorned teenager who's trying to get back at Bruce and Nightwing!Damian like this- but I think Jason would wear him down. Prove to Tim that Jason can think on his wavelength.

Slightly related, what interests me about Red Hood!Tim is how it'd implicate his closeness to Ra's. Jason is taken into the League by Talia in Lost Days and Ra's doesn't necessarily approve of Jason's presence, especially not of Talia dunking him in the Pit, but Ra's has always canonically been A Little Weird about Tim. I think in a world Tim dies as the second Robin, it would be Ra's who dunks Tim to preserve his mind that Ra's thinks shouldn't be wasted, and you have the potential for 'apprentice of Ra's' Tim wrapped up in it all, even without him experience the Red Robin arc. So when it's Jason as Red Robin, instead of him going to Ra's when he's scorned by the Batfamily, he goes to Tim. The person he once idolized, because I think Tim would've been Jason's Robin. Smart, competent, a strong legacy to live up to. And now he's back, and he's pro-killing, an edge that Jason has always teetered on and would feel even closer to when he's replaced by a young Dick. I think Tim wouldn't ever be able to get rid of Jason.

Then on Tim's side, I think his reaction to being replaced after his death would be a complicated one. Objectively, being the Robin who believes Batman needs a Robin, he'd respect the logic and know Bruce was always going to replace him eventually. But still, there's always going to be that instinctual emotional reaction of betrayal and replacement. I think he'd view Jason at first with anger and distance, but then, seeing Jason as this street kid with begrudging potential, I could see Red Hood!Tim testing Jason. Constantly throwing things at Jason, seeing how he reacts, if he lives up to being Robin. Tim has a need for analyzing people, understanding their strengths and weaknesses. And he seems the Robin mantle very uniquely, he'd need to have it proven to him that Jason can handle it.

So you would have this dynamic of Jason hero worshipping Tim, slowly believing in Tim's methodology. While Tim is at first dismissive of him, but then starts to test him, see what makes this kid tick. And I think the TimJay potential of Jason trying to prove himself to Tim could be Neat.

[secretlysamcro]

Female reader x Jax teller MAJOR SPOILERS! Violence (pregnancy) & Explicit language If you're under the age of 18. haven't finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: "The reader is Jax’s old lady and an rival club finds this out and kidnaps the reader using her for lovage against the sons, the reader is pregnant and hasn’t told Jax yet and when he comes to save her she gets injured and taken to the hospital during that he’s finds out and they get to see the baby for the first time together"

Backstory: The tension between the club and the Irish has been brewing for weeks now. Jax pushing to sever all ties with the IRA. Jax is determined to do so in order to protect his club and his family, no matter the cost. Galen on the other hand, isn't ready to let go of the SAMCRO connection so easily. He needs Clay out of prison, and the only people he knows that will get it done is the Sons. He knows Jax won't help him willingly, but he knows the one thing that Jax would do anything for, is you.

“Just one more” he says his voice low and steady, hanging in the doorway like he doesn’t want to leave. His hand wraps around yours, brushing his rough thumb over your knuckles as he closes the space between you once again. The kiss slow and smooth, making it last.

“Jax, go” you laugh, shoving him away playfully, even though part of you wants him to stay. You know he needs to be at the clubhouse. There’s a lot of shit going on at the moment, but as his old lady, you’re only told the stuff he chooses to tell you, the rest is a mystery.

He grins, giving you one last look before jogging down the steps, his trainers thudding against the concrete. The roar of his Dyna filling the air as he takes off down the road.

Your hand drifts to your stomach, cradling the secret you’ve been carrying. The new life you’ve both created. Tonight was the night you were finally going to tell him.

You’d had your suspicions for a while, the doubt creeping in until that one morning when they were confirmed by the positive test. Even then, the shock hit you like a punch. For the most part, you wanted to run to Jax, to tell him right then and there, but you knew it wasn’t the right time. He’d been carrying so much on his shoulders lately, stress from the club, the Irish deal that seemed to be falling apart. The last thing he needed was more pressure.

“Yeah, I’ve got eyes on her now” one of Galen's men says, his Irish accent thick as ever. “I’m sure... he’s just left, she’s home al-...”

You step out of the house in your comfy sweats, car keys and phone in hand. You get into your car, sorting yourself out before starting the engine, completely oblivious to the eyes tracking your every move.

“...Change of plan boss, she’s on the move” He watches your car pull off, tracking your every turn as you head down the street.

Jax sits at the head of the table, the presidential gavel in hand. “All in favour of the Sons breaking ties with the IRA?” he announces, Chibs already shaking his head, aware of the storm brewing.

“This is a bad idea Jackie boy” the VP warns, his voice tight with concern. “Galen’s a bloody butcher, and the IRA? they aint letting us go that easy” he says, Jax shooting him a look as if to say ‘do what I fucking say’ Chibs, screws his face in stubbornness. “Aye” he reluctantly spits out.

Jax bangs the gavel as the vote comes in as a yes. The other members leaving the room, Chibs staying behind. His eyes fixed on Jax.

“This is the only way we get out of this cartel mess” Jax says, his voice firm, truly believing this is the right move.

Chibs crosses his arms, his gaze still steady. “I really hope you’ve got a plan, Jackie” he says, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in his words.

“They’ll have to do it” Galen speaks down the phone.

“He’ll do anything I need him to” he looks down to the floor, clearly frustrated “I’m getting him out...tomorrow” he says, before hanging up the phone.

“You really think the sons can pull this off?” Connor questions, his voice sounding doubtful, clearly concerned about where their ties land.

Galen looks him up and down, his gaze cold and calculating. “They don’t have much of a choice” he says, “but I don’t trust Jackson, not after what went down with Father Ashby, God bless his soul” he makes the sign of the cross as he continues speaking “I need Clay out, and I need him out, now”. “And when he gets out, what's his plan? You know the Sons aren't taking him back” Connor states, the doubtful tone still evident.

Galen glances towards him, the corners of his mouth tightening at the frequent questioning “Clay’s heading to Ireland, He’s planning to set up his own charter, make his own way” He then goes into his pocket, to grab the burner phone that’s ringing. “Aye” he says, answering the call.

“We’ve got her” the line hangs up.

Jax and the club are still at the clubhouse. Jax sits at the bar, Chibs beside him. A text flashes on his phone from a burner number.

Unknown Number: Meet @ warehouse 13.00 -G

Jax looks up, his eyes sharp. “Galen wants us at the warehouse. Be ready to move” he tells everyone, making sure they're all prepared.

“Aye, but what for Jackie?” Chibs questions, not realising they would be facing Galen again so soon.

“I guess we’re gonna find out” Jax mumbles as he begins to text, not Galen though, you.

Jax: Hey babe. b home later than I thought. wait up 4 me. love u.

The guys ride in one by one, Jax leading the way as always, followed by his VP and then the rest of the crew. The warehouse looks empty, spookily quite in fact. Until the doors groan open. Inside, Galen, Connor and a few more of the Irish stand waiting.

Jax steps forward, entering first. His voice laced with sarcasm. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” The footsteps of the others following close behind.

Galen offers a distant nod, his smile stiff as usual. “Things have changed Jackson” he says, no trace of regret coming from him.

“Hey, if we’ve got some kind of beef lets throw it on the table” he says, his voice sharp.

Galen looks away, almost amused before responding “Don’t be so sensitive Laddy”

Jax snaps, “Grow some balls, you Irish prick” his tone, still unwavering. The others step closer, sensing something could potentially pop off at any given moment.

Galen pauses for a moment, then steps forward to Jax, the sound of his boots crunching against the gravel. “Alright” he says, “I think you’re arrogant, selfish and explosive...” he begins “...The wreckage you caused in Belfast got a man of God, and my dearest friend killed”

Jax frowns slightly, a confused look spreading across his face “You talkin’ about the priest?” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

“Aye” Galen nods, his voice sounding bitter. “Father Kellan Ashby pulled me off the streets, saved my life” each word dripping with resentment.

Jax smirks, the tension getting thicker. “Gave you the Catholic blessing of the blood...made you Gangsta’ of Christ?” he mocks.

Galen lunges forward, landing a punch directly above Jax’s eyebrow. The whole warehouse erupts into chaos as both sides rush to break them apart.

Jax still smirking as his adrenaline rises shouts “Now we’re making progress!” eager to keep the fight going. The men spill out into the open space in front of the warehouse. The fight continues, both men hitting and being hit, sweat and blood flying with every swing, neither backing down until finally the men watching, pull them apart.

Galen wipes blood from his lip, a twisted smile forming on his face as he looks over to Jax. “Oh, and by the way Jackson…” he says, his voice cold. “…Clay’s getting transported tomorrow. I need you and your club to stop that from happening, and bring him here, to me.” he demands his orders.

Jax laughs, spitting the leftover blood out from his mouth, the confusion spreading across all the faces present. “And why would I do that?” he responds, stunned by Galens audacity.

“Because Jackson...if you don't…” he pulls his phone out, unlocking it calmy before holding it up to show Jax. A woman sitting in a chair, her arms bound and her mouth gagged. The room goes still as Jax works out who the woman in the picture is. “…She dies”. Jax’s expression shifts, the gravity of the situation hitting him.

The air is cold, the darkness surrounds you. Your hands are bound, your mouth gagged as tears trickle down your face, silently sobbing.

Deep down, part of you knew this was always a possibility. Being the lover of the notorious Sons of anarchy president, could you expect any less?

Footsteps approach through the silence, growing closer with each step. Your heart beating in your chest as he comes into view. Sliding into your peripheral vision. His face, now inches from yours. His breath warm against your skin. A sharp calloused finger brushes away your tear. “Cut the shite” he growls, standing tall once again.

“Those tears mean nothing to me” he turns and leans casually against a desk directly across from you. His legs crossed and his arms folded to match.

In a desperate effort, you manage to wriggle the makeshift gag away from your mouth. “what... do you want...from me” you manage to wheeze out, your breathing laboured due to fear.

He stares at you, not a slither of sympathy in his eyes. “I don’t need shite from you” he says, pointing in your face. “It’s your pretty wee lad we’re after”.

"Please, don't hurt me...I'm...I'm pregnant" you practically cry out.

"Well then you better hope, Jackson, does what he's told"...

“You think this is gonna work Jax?” Juice’s voice echoes through the silence. Jax keeps his eyes on the the road, looking through the passenger side window, his jaw clenched. “We don’t have a choice” he wipes a hand across his face. The image of you alone, with the Irish, twists in his gut like a knife. “We stop the van, grab Clay, then hand him over to Galen. It’s that simple” he says, relaying the plan instructed by Connor.

The transportation van was forced off of the road, leaving slight chaos in it’s wake. Juice and Jax were in one van, with Bobby, Tig and Connor trailing close behind in the other. Together, they worked effortlessly, forcing the officers to surrender without much of a fight.

Jax, swinging open the vans back doors to reveal Clay, a slight confused look on his face. Jax takes off his ski mask, a smirk appearing as Clay squints up looking towards Jax, clearly not expecting him. “Where’s the Irish?” he says, realising this isn’t the original plan.

“No Irish” Jax replies, his jaw tense. “Just me”.

The job was done, more or less. The boys had managed to pull it off with only one minor hitch, Bobby had taken a bullet in the process. Jax though, is focused on what matters the most, The trade. Clay needed to be handed over to Galen without delay. Clay, for you.

Jax strides into the warehouse, the club reunited once again. He heads straight for the small office in the back with Chibs and Tig only, the others hanging around behind the door. Inside, Galen stands waiting wearing his usual cocky grin. Jax doesn’t even give him the chance to speak. “You’ll get Clay, when I get y/n” he growls, his voice cold but firm.

Galen smirks, clearly expecting some sort of demand from Jax. He gestures to another Irishman lurking in the corner. The man follows his silent order, slipping out of the room only to return moments later.

He shoves you roughly into the room, you stumble and slam your side into the edge of the cabinet. Jax moves instinctively, about to rush to your side.

“NO!” Galen barks, stopping him from getting any closer. “You’ve seen her, now I want Clay” he spits.

Jax, who’s teeth are snarled, turns around to Tig, giving him a nod. The command clear, go and get Clay. He then looks back to you, sensing the fear rushing through your body. His gaze softens, seeing you in pain, seeing you like this. Your face is bruised, blood smeared across your cheeks. His attention now drawn to how your hands are clutching your stomach protectively.

Tig returns quickly, bringing Clay into the room. The tension is thick as the exchange happens all at one. Clay stepping forward beside Jax, Galen's attention now shifting to him.

You waste no time, you bolt towards Jax, throwing yourself into him. He catches you holding you close, then pulling you away slighting holding onto your shoulders, scanning your entire body for any injuries. “Its okay, y/n” he murmurs, his voice close to a whisper. “I'm so sorry” he says, knowing this is all his fault.

Just behind you, Jax catches Galen's movement. He steps forward, probably about to make some smug comment about the deal, but Jax doesn't wait to find out. “Close your eyes” he whispers into your ear. You barely have time to react as Jax looks over to Chibs and Tig, the three of them exchanging a knowing glance.

Within a second, their guns are drawn. Jax keeps you tightly against him, his free arm acting as a barrier around you as he fires. His bullet lands dead Centre into Galen's forehead, Chibs taking down one Irishman, and Tig dropping the other. The crack of the gunfire makes you scream into Jax’s chest, muffling the sound. Your knees buckle as you drop to the floor. Jax lowering with you, pulling you even closer.

“Jesus christ” Clay mutters, looking around seeing Galen’s lifeless body stretched across the floor. Jax looks over to him. “We had a vote” he says coldly. “This needed to happen” Jax, finally one step closer to cutting ties with the true IRA.

Jax’s eyes catch the way your hand trembles as it moves between your legs. when you pull it away, blood covers your palm. His heart dropping to his stomach as panic flashes across his face. “Shit” he shouts out, looking around the room trying to make sense of the situation.

“Did she get shot?” Tig questions, also trying to work out the cause of the blood. You don't respond right away, staring at your bloodied hands. This was not how you wanted Jax to find out. Your gaze slowly shifting to Jax, the look in your eyes breaking his heart.

“The baby...” you whisper, your voice exhausted

Jaz freezes, along with everybody else in the room. The words replaying in his head. “The... baby?” he echoes, his voice hard to hear.

It’s not anger or frustration but complete shock. However, there's no time for questions. His protective instincts kicking in like a flip of a switch. Jax shouts for Rat, it takes seconds for him to enter. “I need you to take y/n to the hospital NOW!” his tone sharp and commanding.

Rat, looking around the room taking in what has just happened. “What about-” he’s cut short.

“I SAID NOW!” he takes a deep breath, steadying his anger "please, just go now call me when you get there, I’ll catch up”.

You cling to Jax’s kutte as he leans down, cupping your face with both hands. “you’re gonna be fine” he says, his voice steady, even though his heart feels like its ripping apart. He places a kiss to your forehead. “I have to deal with this, but ill be right behind you ok. I promise... I love you” He kisses you again, helping you off the floor and passing you over to Rat.

As Rat leaves with y/n the other members pile into the room. Clay’s eyes follow, a look of resignation spreading across his face. “I guess you had another vote I wasn’t privy to” a short smile plays on his lips, as he realises what's about to happen.

“Yeah, we did” Jax nods his head slowly. “This time it was unanimous” they stare at each other for a while, before Clay finally speaks.

“fair enough” the eye contact lingering on a little longer.

Clay steps back, not fighting it and completely expecting what's to come. He says nothing, just looks at Jax with a hint of understanding. He moves slowly to the other side of the room, bracing himself in the corner. “This good?” he questions, his voice low as he takes one last look at club he used to call family.

“Yeah” Jax says, no feelings in his words what so ever.

Chibs silently steps forward, loading the gun. He hands it to Jax, who takes it with steady hands. Without hesitation he raises the gun, firing one final shot, hitting Clay straight in the neck. Clay falling to his knees, the blood gushing out like a fountain, he's flat on the floor, the life draining from him.

Jax hands the gun back to Chibs. “I’ve got to go” he says, sounding urgent. “You got this?” he asks his VP, making sure that the rest of the plan plays out just as well. Chibs nods, already moving into motion.

As Jax makes his way to his bike, Connor approaches. “Galen still in there?” he asks, completely oblivious to the mayhem behind the doors. Jax’s lips curl into a smile, a darkness forming over him.

“Yeah. He’s not going anywhere” Without waiting for a response, he jumps on his bike, speeding off doing his best to catch up with Rat, y/n and his unborn child.

Jax’s heart pounds through his kutte covered chest, as he pulls into the hospital parking lot. The roar of his bike engine fading as he skids into park. He waste’s no time, pushing through the hospital doors with urgency, the sterile smell hitting him in the face.

His eyes scan through the reception. Rat, sitting nervously in one of the chairs, looks up as Jax approaches, his chest tight with worry.

“Where is she?” he demands to know, the anxiety creeping in.

Rat stands quickly, raising his hand in a calming gesture. “They took her in to check her over” the words rushing out but in a calming manor.

“She's fine, the baby...your baby is fine” he reassures Jax. The weight of those words hit Jax like a wave, for the first time in hours, he allows himself to breath. The tension in his body easing, as he lets out a long shaky breath.

Rat eyes Jax curiously, his expression cautious, not wanting to over step. “How did it go?”

Jax meets his gaze, his voice finally steady. “It’s done”. Rat nods, understanding exactly what Jax is saying, no need for a further explanation.

“The guys probably need you, take my bike, leave the van... and thank you Rat, for getting them here safe” Jax, pats Rat on the back.

Rat looks at Jax, blinking in disbelief. “wait... take your bike?” he repeats the words, unsure if he misheard. “Nobody rides your bike” he adds, still in shock.

A smile curls on Jax’s face, but the warning still stands true. “If you leave a single scratch on it, you’ll be meeting Mr. Mayhem next” he gives Rat a wink, masking the seriousness in his threat.

The gel that the nurse places on your belly is cold, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. Your whole body aches, bruised from the events of earlier today. The relief however, over shadows the pain, you and the baby are fine and that’s all that matters. You try to focus on that, but your mind keeps drifting to Jax, wishing he was here with you.

Just as the thought crosses you mind, the door creaks open. You look up, and there he is, appearing in the doorway.

“Just in time” the sonographer smiles warmly.

“Hey Darlin” Jax murmurs to you, his voice steady with an apologetic look in his eyes. He slides into the chair next to you, leaning over kissing you softly on the lips. He lingers there for a moment longer, grounding himself in the reality that you’re both okay.

“okay, y/n are you ready?” The sonographers voice breaking the silence, her tone gentle as she prepares to scan you. She talks you both through what’s going to happen as she adjusts the machinery. You nod in response as Jax squeezes your hand, his eyes flicking between you, the sonographer and the monitor. His nerves still on edge, unsure of what to expect.

The room falls quiet as the sonographer moves the wand over your belly. The humming from the machine being the only present sound. Your focus shifting to the screen. A tiny unmistakable figure moving ever so slightly. “There’s your baby” she smiles, her presence warm.

“Oh my god” you sigh out, your hand moving to cover your mouth in disbelief. Jax is frozen, his eyes glued to the screen his grip on your hand tightens as it feels like the world has stopped spinning.

“Jax look” you say, looking over at him, admiration in your eyes. Jax is frozen, he blinks hard as his jaw tightens, his mood unreadable.“Jax?” you question, unsure of how he’s feeling.

His rough exterior begins to crack as he leans closer to the screen, his blue eyes shimmering with tears. “Jesus...” he mutters, as he wipes a tear falling down his cheek. He cracks a laugh in disbelief, returning the eye contact now. “That’s our baby” his vulnerable side now showing.

“From the measurements, I’d estimate you’re roughly 12 weeks, at the least” the sonographer speaks gently, her voice breaking into the emotion bubble you're both currently sat in.

“12 weeks” Jax repeats in a whisper, more tears slip down his face as he keeps wiping them away with the back of his hand.

It’s a lot to take in, everything that's happened in the last 48 hours crashing down on him at once. This wasn’t part of the plan, not at all. But as he stares between you and the little baby wriggling on the screen, his heart swells, a new level of protectiveness he has never felt before.

Jax holds the printed scan photo delicatley in one hand, holding you as delicatley around your waist with the other, as you make your way towards the van.

You glance around, noticing something is missing. “No bike?” you ask, confusion creasing your eyebrow.

Jax sighs, a small smirk growing on his lips. “I let Rat ride it back” he says, already regretting his decision

Despite everything thats happened, it’s as if this has shocked you the most. “you what?” you almost shout.

He shrugs, amused by your reaction. “Yeah, well desperate times babe. He knows what will happen if he messes it up” Jax reassures you, whilst trying to also reeassure himself.

You shake your head in disbelief , still trying to process what he’s just told you, as he helps you gently into the van.

The joy of the past hour almost made you forget what had happened earlier. But now, as you sit beside Jax in the van, it all comes rushing back.

The last time you saw him, he wasnt the man gently holding your hand like he is now. He was Jax, the president, Jax the outlaw, pulling the trigger without hesistation. You knew what he was capable of, but seeing it with your own eyes was a different feeling.

Jax notices the small shift in your demeanour and turns to you. “You okay?” he questions.

You nod, your voice on the verge of crying “Just... a lot to... take in” you manage to get out.

He sighs, squeezing your hand. “y/n I am so sorry you had to see that” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you too, but I had no choice” he reassures you, it wasn’t just for fun.

You look at him, his face so calm even though you know the burden he carries is much heavier than he ever lets on.

“I promise you, y/n. I’m getting us out of this” he looks upwards as if trying not to cry “I can’t ever have you, or our baby in a situation like that again… I don’t know what I’d do if…” he tries to catch a breath, you squeeze his hand as an act of comfort.

“I love you Jax, I love all of you, even the club” you breath out a small laugh, wanting him to feel secure. Even though deep down, the thought of your child growing up in this world makes you feel sick to your stomach.

“I love you too y/n, both of you” Jax smiles as he begins driving home, praying that the plan he set in motion, is enough to keep everyone safe.

Photos & gifs do not belong to me. Just edited them together.

Who rewatches scenes to fit them perfectly into their story plot? Yes, it’s me.

Pls pls pls send me some Jax requests, I love writing but when it comes to thinking of something to write, that’s where I go blank!

Jax Teller Masterlist

Also, thank you all so much for your comments & feedback, love u all 🫶🏽