#without actually caring why beard was angry

[coachbeards]

thinking about how angry beard was in s3. how beard said that he learned from codependents anonymous how keeping pain inside will just poison you. how jane liked beard being angry, actively rewarding him with her attention when she sees him mad at ted. you know.

[cimmanonrowl]

Eat Your Young pt.2

Part One | Masterlist

Coming down from the high that Aaron introduced you to feels impossible at this point. Following your very first encounter after his arrival, there isn't a day that he didn't make you feel desired and pleasured. And what better way to have him sated than letting him fuck you senseless out of pure unadulterated jealousy?

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Contents: age gap, oral fixation, oral (f) receiving, masturbation, cum play, overstimulation, squirting, breeding kink, daddy & sir kink, unprotected, rough sex, angry sex, jealous!aaron, size difference, belly bulging, dirty talk, powerplay: boss/employee dynamic, pure filth, pussy-eater, bearded aaron.

You weren’t sure what was waiting ahead when you accepted the job. 

For one, it was a blessing, given your old employers were moving out of state and you couldn’t go with them. They wanted to bring you, of course. They wanted you to come with them but you had to decline as you have plans of your own after you finish your studies. It was a hard decision to make. You were with the family for almost three years, they helped you through University so you don’t drown in student loans and debt, and the kids loved you as much as you loved them. Even without telling you, you could tell their parents felt bad you’re losing your only financial support at the moment.

That was when Jessica was sent to you like an angel in disguise.

She was an acquaintance; a close friend to your employers, so in a way you knew the woman and some bits of her life. You knew that she was taking care of her nephew, although occasionally; a young kid named Jack. You knew that she loved looking after him but her new promotion at work demanded more and more of her time, so she and her brother-in-law had to look for extra help. Apparently, Jack’s father was a very busy man, as you were told.

And that was when you became part of the Hotchners.

For them, you were heaven-sent.

“I’m fine, Jess…” you mumbled over the phone as you read the street sign quietly. You were almost there, almost, heaving a little as you dragged your suitcase behind you. “Of course, I’m nervous… you know how it is. I’m not very good with…”

“Kids?” you heard her breathy laughter at the other line, more teasing than incredulous.

You chuckled in return, shaking your head. “Fathers, actually. It’s different talking to women and knowing how exactly they want things to be done. Fathers aren’t like that. They expect— they just expect you to figure out everything.”

“Aaron isn’t like that,” she assured you, her voice kind. “You’ll see. He knows how he likes things and will tell you so. He’s a good man.”

Your heart hammered against your chest. He knows how he likes things. And he will tell you so. That’s supposed to be an assurance, right? So, why on Earth were you blushing?

Must be because of those damn pictures, a voice in your head whispered. Last night– maybe it was the nerves, or your plain curiosity after hearing many stories about the man that you let yourself get swayed by temptation. You were not one to research about your employers. A brief personal background was always provided by the agency to ensure that employees like you will be in safe hands, and it has always been enough. But last night, for some reason, you felt the need to know him.

In the past week you were negotiating with Jessica, you never met Mr. Hotchner. You thought it was weird and so reckless of him. He’s a federal agent. You expected him to be paranoid, careful at a fault. Why wouldn’t he insist on meeting firsthand the stranger who will take care of his son? The one he’ll let inside his home? It seemed like he didn’t care at all. All you knew was he was out on a case and wouldn’t be home at least for a couple more days. You don’t even know what this man looks like.

You met his son three days ago, though, and you already love the kid. Jack was a little shy at first, soft-spoken, but cheeky as he was polite. You wondered since then if he got that from his father. But you thought it was unlikely when you started digging information from the internet.

“So serious…” you whispered as you plucked the cherry from the stem, chewing slowly as you continued scrolling through the available pictures of him on the web. 

There were YouTube links that also popped out when you typed in his name. You knew he’s some kind of bigshot fed but it still shocked you when you realized Mr. Hotchner had to stand in front of the camera and make public announcements on the news. It was impossible not to notice that face. But the least you could say is he looks good. Then you had to stop yourself there and divert your attention to the flaws you could pinpoint.

He looks strict and scary. In every video you opened, there was a tight frown on his face. It looks like he barely smiles or doesn’t know how to, and that he’s always constipated. What a poor man. You could already imagine your days in their household getting shouted at for being clumsy.

“You’re here! Dad, she’s here! Dad! She’s here!” the familiar voice of a young boy cut through your thoughts. 

You stood still outside the closed gate of your new residence, peering over where a kid was running toward your direction, and an older man distractedly dribbling a basketball in a mini court. He was topless and sweaty. His arms strong, his muscles taut. And even from a distance, you could tell that he was watching you, too.

Then your eyes met and he smiled, warm and so kind.

At that moment you knew that this wouldn’t be bad after all.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It’s late— later than you realized and Aaron still wasn’t home after a long day in the office. You’ve learned not to worry too much as you’ve grown accustomed to his late nights. He always comes home to you and Jack. But every night, there was a part of you that couldn’t fully relax until you heard the sound of his key in the door.

The clock just struck half past 10 o’clock. Most of the lights were already dimmed and the house was filled with silence. Jack had just gone to bed. These past few days, you realized how things changed. It took you almost an hour to convince him to get off his iPad and stop the game he was playing with his friends, and another hour before he fell asleep reading you his book of choice for this week. Which explains why you’re still up at this hour.

The soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen was the only sound that accompanied you as you moved through the living room, gathering up Jack’s scattered Lego blocks and soldier figurines. It was all over the place. You told him countless times to clean up his mess before eating dinner, but he just shrugged you off and told you he’d clean it up later. Hours passed by and he seemed to forget about his promise as he was already engrossed with the weird game he was playing on his iPad. 

Jack was growing fast. And as much as the thought put an ache in your heart, you knew this was also inevitable.

But the thing is, you have no idea how you should deal with these changes. You didn’t dare scold him, no– considering your growing relationship with his father. You didn’t want him to think that you were crossing the line of acting like his mother, or a replacement for her. So, you thought it was better you wait for Aaron to come home and bring up this issue instead.

Another deep sigh escaped your lips as you bent down to pick up another handful of Lego blocks. You’re ready to go to bed, already clad in your satin nightgown, a pale pink that clings to your curves; feeling soft and smooth against your skin. The thin straps would occasionally slip off your shoulders as you reach for more toys, and the hem would brush against your thighs as you move.

“Didn’t think you’d still be up…”

You froze at the voice, still bent over, before straightening up and turning toward the entryway just as Aaron stepped inside. 

His presence filled the space immediately. He’s still in his work clothes— a dark suit that looks a little rumpled from the long day, his tie loosened and his shirt collar open. His hair was slightly disheveled, and you noticed the tiredness in his eyes that he tried to hide as he closed the door behind.

For a moment, his eyes lingered on you, taking in the way the satin nightgown hugged your body, the fabric clinging to the curve of your hips, the way the hem fluttered around your thighs. There was a brief flicker of something in his gaze, appreciative, and scandalously lustful. You saw the slight tug at the corner of his lips behind his thick beard.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he greeted.

Your heart did that familiar, annoying little skip when he languidly crossed the room and caged you in his arms. He sighed deeply, kissed your forehead then your lips, before resting his cheeks at the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Rough day, Mr. Hotchner?” you wanted to tease him, but with his hot breath fanning over your neck, the coarse hair of his beard against your skin, your words came out breathless.

You heard him groan, his voice low and a little rough when he said, “You have no idea, baby. Why are you still up, anyway? Did Jack gave you a hard time?”

“He’s just growing, Aaron. That’s how it is.”

“So he did?” he concluded, “I’ll talk to him, baby. There’s just too much going on at work.”

You hummed and nodded, running your fingers through his hair, understanding and supporting him without needing any details. You’ve never pressed him for specifics about his work and you know that Aaron was carrying enough weight on his shoulders without you adding to it. But even so, there was something in his tone and the exhaustion in his face that made you hug him tighter.

“You’re home now,” you said softly, massaging his scalp, “You should sit down for a bit. I can make you something to eat if you’re hungry.”

Just then, you felt his teeth dug gently on the skin of your neck. “How about I eat you instead?”

“Aaron…” you couldn’t help but giggle, ignoring the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“Hmm?” 

“Not here.”

He let out a soft grunt. “You smell heavenly, baby. I want to fuck you.”

His voice was raspy, gruff from all the grueling hours he spent in the office. You squirmed and chuckled quietly as you felt his lips trailing wet kisses on your neck, the soft curve of your shoulders, and even your jaw. His thick beard tickling you with every little movement.

You let out a sigh, clamping your thighs as you felt the heat dampening your cotton underwear. “Not here, Aaron. I’ll finish- I’ll clean up this mess first.”

He didn’t seem to hear you. The rough pad of his calloused palm roamed and caressed every inch of your clothed body. His hands moved to the curve of your ass, the swell of your breast, kneading your tits roughly on his hands while rolling your now sensitive nipples in between his thick fingers.

“I missed you so much, angel…” he said in a whisper, “I can’t get enough of your little pussy. You make me so hard, feel that?”

He guided your hand to the obvious bulge in his pants. Although that idea thrilled you, your fingers trembled in embarrassment and anticipation. You glanced up at him with wide, innocent eyes, your breath caught in your throat, while he hissed as you softly cupped and pressed your palm on his restrained cock, moving your hand experimentally in circles.

“Fuck,” he grunted your name, you even saw a muscle twitch on his tight jaw. “Saw you innocently bent over when I stepped into that door. It’s almost like you’re begging someone to ruin your tight cunt, is that right, angel?”

His hand found the dampness in between your legs, already pressing his thumb on your aching clit, yet it was the crudeness of his words that made you whimper. “S-sir…”

“Use your big words, sweet girl.”

“Not s-someone, sir…” you admitted. “Just you. W-want you to use me.”

A satisfied smile played on his lips.

“I know, baby. Want me to fuck you with my big cock, don’t you? Always fucking ready to spread your legs for me, is that right?”

You nodded dumbly, blinking up at him. 

“Are you a whore?”

“N-no...” you said unsurely, “No, daddy. Not a w-whore.”

The dark look in his eyes brought you back to the memories of earlier in the morning. He gave you a small smile. “You’re daddy’s baby, I know, little girl.”

Like he always does, Aaron woke you up earlier with his face buried between your legs. He was lapping your dripping cunt like a madman, licking and sucking with his expert mouth. Two of his thick fingers were pushed deep inside you, making a lewd squelching sound as he nudged the sweet bundle of nerves inside. Your legs were trembling uncontrollably all you could do was moan and tug on Aaron’s hair. When he looked up to see your face, his beard was wet and a string of saliva was hanging from his lips and to your puffy folds.

You already came twice today. One from his mouth, as promised. And one from his big, leaking cock. He had your legs wide open, his hand pressed on the back of your thighs until you were folded almost in half, and rammed his big cock in and out of your weeping cunt with vigor. His eyes were focused on where you were both connected, watching in awe how you willingly swallow his thick cock in your body. He enjoyed watching the bulge appear in your stomach with every deep thrust.

He called you sweet names as he came inside you, flooding your womb with his warm cum. It took him all the self-control (and a message from Morgan) not to bend you again over the sink as he watched you walk to the bathroom, his release slowly dripping down your legs. And he wished you only knew how he wanted to push it back inside and keep his cock buried in your raw cunt for the rest of the day.

- - - - - - - ⋆ ★

The Saturday sun beamed over the soccer field where kids are darting back and forth in a burst of energy. The sidelines were lined with parents and family members, all chatting and watching the game with varying degrees of attention. You were standing among them, your eyes following Jack as he weaved between the other kids, his face bright with determination. Every now and then, his laughter carries across the field, and you couldn’t help but smile as well.

Aaron was beside you, his arms crossed as he watched Jack with that focused intensity he always seemed to have when it comes to his son. You could tell that as much as they were both competitive, he was worried that some accidents may happen. 

“I’m going to check in with Jack for a minute,” Aaron informed you as he let go of your intertwined hand, nodding toward the bench where Jack was sitting during a break. “Be right back.”

You nodded and watched in silence as Aaron strode across the field toward Jack, the sun catching in his dark hair. You took a deep breath, relaxing a little now that you were alone for a moment. It feels good to be outside, to be with Aaron, but you hate the weird glances some mothers were throwing at you. As if you were doing something illegal.

Just as you were about to take a seat on one of the folding chairs, a familiar man approached you from the side, his expression friendly. You recognized him as one of the other parents and father of one of Jack’s friends at school, though you don’t recall his name right away. He was tall, with sandy blond hair and a warm, easygoing smile.

“Hey there,” he said with a chuckle, gesturing toward the field. “Quite a game, huh?”

You smiled back, letting out a small laugh. “Tell me about it. My bones could never. I’m exhausted just watching them.”

The man laughed, then glanced over at the field before turning his attention back to you. “I’m Tom, by the way,” he said, offering his hand. “I’ve seen you around a few times… and my son told me last night he and Jack partnered for the bake sale activity at school.”

You shook his hand. “I think I recall Jack telling me about that bake sale. Is Jake your son?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” Tom replied, nodding fast and chuckling. “I thought you’d think I’m just making up excuses to come up to a pretty woman and start chatting with her—”

“Pretty woman?” you smiled at the compliment, glancing up at him.

“Well, yeah. Anyway…” Tom grinned shyly, clearly pleased. “Yeah, my son was crazy about beating the other boys or something like that. Tell you honestly, I have no idea what to bring. I’m useless in the kitchen, but I don’t want to be that guy who just shows up with store-bought stuff, you know?”

You laughed softly, nodding in understanding. “I do get it. But it’s a good thing they can choose a partner. If you want, I could help you out. I make a pretty mean batch of cookies.”

Tom’s face lit up with genuine gratitude. “Really? That would be amazing. I mean, only if you have time to accommodate— I don’t want to impose.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” you waved off his concern. “I like baking, plus I can invite Jake to come over so I have another little assistant.”

“Or me?” The man teased. “Just kidding. That would be incredible. You just saved me from embarrassment. The old ladies at school… they’re very, you know.”

The sound of your laughter tangled in the air. But as the laughter fades, you felt a subtle shift in the air. You unconsciously wandered your eyes around and realized Aaron was standing just a few feet away, his eyes trained on you and Tom, his expression intense. His strong arms were crossed, and there was a tightness in his jaw that wasn’t there before.

“Hey,” you greeted, offering Aaron a small smile as he stepped closer. “Everything okay with Jack?”

Aaron nodded, though his eyes briefly flickered over to Tom, taking in the easy conversation you’ve been having. “He’s fine,” Aaron replied, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of something sharper, something controlled. “Just needed a little pep talk.”

Tom, the poor man oblivious to the tension, smiled at Aaron and offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Tom. We were just talking about the kids’ upcoming school bake sale.”

Aaron shook his hand, but there was a slight stiffness to the gesture. “Aaron Hotchner. Jack’s father.”

Tom nodded, then focused back on you. “Thanks again for the offer. If it’s alright, I was thinking— maybe I should grab your number? You know, just so we can coordinate for the bake sale and all that. Would make it easier to figure out what to bring.”

He was just being friendly and practical, that’s what you know. But the suggestion lingered in the air awkwardly. You could feel Aaron tense beside you, the shift in his posture subtle but unmistakable. With hesitation, you glanced at Aaron out of the corner of your eye. His expression has hardened, his jaw clenched just enough to be noticeable, and there was a flash of something dangerous in his eyes—something possessive, territorial even. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Aaron stepped in, his voice low and edged with barely restrained anger. “If you need anything, you can go through me.”

Tom blinked, clearly caught off guard. He forced out a chuckle, trying to brush off the tension with a good-natured grin. “I didn’t mean anything by it, man. Just thought it’d be easier—”

“You don’t need her number for that.”

You swallowed hard, feeling everyone’s attention on the growing commotion. Aaron’s eyes were still fixed on Tom, his stance rigid, his body language screaming of a barely controlled fury. This wasn’t just about the number.

Tom raised his hands slightly, clearly trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, no problem,” he said, though there was a hint of confusion in his eyes as he glanced between you and Aaron. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

You forced a tight smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Thanks, Tom. Maybe we can let the kids decide and start there.”

Tom nodded again. “Yeah, sure. I’ll catch you both around.” He gave a quick wave before turning and walking back toward the crowd of parents, his pace a bit quicker than before.

As soon as Tom was out of earshot, the silence between you and Aaron felt heavy. You could feel the heat of Aaron’s anger, his jaw still clenched as he silently watched Tom disappear into the distance.

You glanced up at Aaron, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “What was that about?”

“What?” Aaron finally tore his gaze away from Tom, turning to face you. There was a storm in his eyes, it made your breath catch. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he admitted, his voice rougher than before. Then he mumbled, “Or him having your number. Why would he have your fucking number for? Bake sale and all that, that fucking idiot.”

You grimaced at his admission, of how easily he admitted what he felt. You’ve never seen Aaron like this before— so openly protective, so possessive— and it stirred something deep inside you that was too intense to put a name on.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “He was just being friendly, Aaron. It was harmless.”

“Maybe to you,” His voice was still tensed as he retorted. “But I didn’t trust him. And I don’t like the idea of other men thinking they can just… move in like that.”

You bit back a smile, a little amused by his jealousy.

“We were talking about bake sales, not making any plans to run off together,” you nudged his arm with your elbow teasingly.

Aaron took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he stared down at you. “Oh, so you can joke. Do you think this is funny?”

“What? Of course no–”

“Jack will be out on a sleepover,” he leaned closer to your ear just to whisper, “We’ll fucking talk later, hm? Save your explanations ‘cause I’ll fuck you like a whore.”

Your breath staggered as you pressed your lips shut. You knew by then that it was going to be a long, long night.

- - - - - - - ⋆ ★

The door slammed against the wall with a loud bang as you and Aaron stumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. His big, calloused hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers digging into your skin as your mouths crashed together in a rough, desperate kiss.

Everything felt hazy, like you were moving through a dream, but there was nothing gentle about the way you were kissing him, or the way his hands were gripping you. It felt like he couldn’t get close enough. It was frantic, dirty, almost reckless, as if both of you were on the verge of losing control and neither of you cared.

You barely noticed the door swing shut behind you as Aaron pushed you roughly up against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through your body, but the only thing you could focus on was him— his scent, his warmth, the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his strong body felt pressed up against you.

“Aaron…” you managed to gasp out between kisses, your voice breathless. You could barely think, your mind clouded with desire, but his name slipped from your lips like a plea, a litany. “D-daddy... slow- slow... down...”

His hands were everywhere— on your waist, your hips, sliding down to the curve of your thighs as he gripped you tightly, pressing his bulge against your needy cunt. You gasped into his mouth, the sound swallowed by another fierce kiss as his body pinned you harder against the wall, pressing you there as if you might disappear if he let go.

“I’m s-sorry… D-daddy, please…”

“Please what?” he groaned against your mouth, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then to your neck, the coarse hair on his chin scraping against your skin as he kissed a heated path down your throat. “Now you’re sorry? Bet you fucking liked the attention earlier. Thought you aren’t a whore?”

“No. I’m sorry, daddy. I’m sorry. I’m not—”

His rough hands slid up your sides, gripping the hem of your shirt and yanking it up and over your head with a quick, impatient movement. The cool air hit your skin, but it was immediately replaced by the warmth of his touch as his hands moved over your bare skin, his fingers digging into your flesh like he wanted his mark so deeply ingrained in your skin and your whole being.

“Feels like you’re forgetting who you belong to.”

You shook you head, moaning as you felt his hand travel closer to your heat. “No, no. I belong to you, sir. Only you. I’m so sorry, daddy.”

“Are you?” he barked a taunting laugh. “And why do you belong to me then, little girl? Why does this pussy belong to me?”

“Because… b-because you take care of m-me, daddy.”

“I fucking do, don’t I?” he remarked, tracing soft circles on your clit through the rough fabric of your jeans. “And I’m so fucking good to you. So why are you fucking ungrateful, angel? Batting your eyelashes and giggling with other men like a cheap whore on the streets?”

You felt like crying. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes, your heart hammering painfully against your chest. You messed up and now he’s mad. But you don’t like the words coming out of his mouth. You only want to be daddy’s good girl.

“I’m s-sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, I-I promise.”

“No, baby. I bet you it won’t,” he pulled back for a second, his eyes dark and filled with something primal, his chest rising and falling with the force of his ragged breaths. “I’ll fuck you until your little belly’s round with my cum and you’re pregnant with my child. I’ll knock you up so every man will know whose cock split your tight cunt open. You like that, little girl? You want to be a good whore for daddy?”

You nodded and grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him back down to you, crashing your lips together again as the two of you stumbled further into the room, barely able to focus on anything but each other. Your legs hit the edge of the couch, and before you know it, Aaron was already manspreading in front of you, while you knelt in front of him, your hands laid on your lap.

“Atta girl, look at you,” you keened at the praise, biting on your lower lip as you waited patiently for him to remove his shirt and finish unbuckling his belt.

“Can- can I suck your cock, s-sir?” you said weakly. “Please?”

Aaron hissed as his cock sprang free, slapping the base of his soft stomach. His cock was already hard and leaking, the tip shiny with beads of precum. Your mouth watered at the sight. But still, you waited for his permission, glancing up at him innocently, patiently.

He leaned on the couch and pumped his length slowly, an amused smirk on his lips. “Remove your pants.”

You whimpered and did what he told you. That wasn’t the permission you were waiting for but still you obliged eagerly. Your eyes focused on his hand slowly fisting his hardening cock before glancing up and meeting his eyes. Aaron let out a deep breath as he took in your naked body, your tits, your now swollen lips, and even your thighs that you were subtly rubbing to create some friction.

“Play with your tits, baby,” he said gruffly, “Put on a show for me like a good girl. Go on.”

There was something possessive in his gaze, a wildness that you’d never seen in him before, but it sent a thrill directly through your wet core. You played with your tits, kneaded the soft mound, and pinched your nipples making you whimper pathetically.

Aaron pumped his cock a little faster, his hungry eyes following your movements. “Spread your legs, want to see that pussy of yours.”

It felt humiliating, to scamper on your knees to follow his orders. But still you did. Because the moment you opened your legs for him, Aaron let out a loud growl and gripped his cock tightly on his fist, as if he was trying not to cum just by the sight of your wet cunt. You felt happy with his reaction.

With trembling fingers, you opened your puffy folds to show him how much you desired to be fucked, your clit swollen, your cunt desperately fluttering and clenching on nothing.

“Is that all for me?”

You nodded, your body tingling with pleasure and pride.

“D-daddy…” you sounded meek, all up for the taking. “Want you, p-please. Sir, please? Please?”

You can feel the heat radiating off him, the way his chest rises and falls with each ragged breath as he thumbed the leaking tip of his big and veiny cock. In a swift movement, he grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you harder, deeper, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made you sigh in relief.

“Ride my cock then. Show me how much you want it.”

There was hunger in him that matched your own. The sound of your highpitched whining and Aaron’s deep grunt weaved through the air. You sank down his big cock, your cunt clenching to accommodate his girth. Aaron was so big you don’t think it’s possible to get used to it, the burn of the stretch was there, but it was heady and intoxicating.

“Aaron,” you whispered again, your voice trembling with need as your fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him closer, needing more, needing him. The intensity was overwhelming, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. “D-daddy, help. Help, please.”

“Pathetic,” he growled against your lips. With one sharp thrust, he plunged the rest of his cock into your raw cunt.

“T-thank you, sir…” you mewled at the feeling, grounding your hips in slow circles. “Good- feels g-good…”

His lips trailed back down your neck, your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His beard scratched your skin. Every touch, every kiss, feels like fire, igniting something primal deep inside of you that you hadn’t even realized was there.

“Does it, angel? Who’s making you feel good right now?”

You arched your back, pressing into him. “Y-you, sir. J-just you...”

A harsh slap landed at the side of your thigh. 

“Louder!”

“You, d-daddy! Only y-you. OH MY GOD, AARON!” you screamed, hiding your flushed cheeks at the crook of his neck as Aaron plowed his cock so deep into your frail body. “You’re making me feel g-good. You fuck me so well, daddy! I love your cock, you own me, you ow-”

You heard a low growl reverberate through his heaving chest. He propped his knees at the edge of the couch for better leverage. You felt his cock pulsating deep inside you, his thighs strong beneath your trembling legs. Your vision was blurry with unshed tears and the force of Aaron’s cock ramming inside you. The noise leaving his open lips was dirty, primal, so filthy all you could do was take it.

You let him ruin you.

Let him use you to his heart content.

Like that’s all you’re worth for.

“I’ll fuck my baby inside of you, little girl, ‘s that what you want?” he panted beneath you, his hips staggering a little. “I’ll make you all round and pretty. Everyone will know whose whore you a-are…”

Yes, yes, yes. You couldn’t bring yourself to say. You just whimpered, your voice raw and absolutely fucked out. You just let yourself feel how his cock assaulted your tight, little cunt. There was a familiar coil in your stomach, and then the familiar squelching sound.

“I-I’m s-” you squealed loudly, high-pitched and frantic. “I-I’m coming, ‘m c-coming, daddy, ple-”

Aaron grunted and plunged his cock on a particularly deep thrust, feeling the tip nestle at the sweet bundle of sensitive nerves that made you roll your eyes. You felt Aaron’s cock slide out of your used pussy, a gush of clear release dampening Aaron’s belly and the floor below.

“F-fuck! Look at that…”

“Oh- oh my go-” you bit your lower lip in overstimulation, yet you didn’t do anything to protest when he thrust his thick cock inside again. “Too much… t-too much, sen-sensitive. D-daddy! P-please, no more!”

His cock slid out the second time you squirted. Another gush of release dampened the carpet below. The force was too overwhelming your knees buckled, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You heard Aaron’s pleasured grunt as you clenched even tighter around his cock, your velvety walls hugging his girth like it was molded to be there.

“S-stop, d-daddy! S-stop…”

He scarcely heard you. You could feel every inch of him, the way his body moves against yours, the heat of his skin, the sweat, the strength in his hands as they explore every part of you. He groped you like you were nothing but a fucktoy— one that he will discard the moment he finally got his release.

“See this, little girl?” he grabbed your neck and forced you to look at your belly. You whined at the faint sight of his cock bulging against your skin. “That’s h-how deep I am, you feel that? That’s how well you take me. G-good girl, baby.”

You nodded. “S-so deep, d-daddy. You make me feel s-so good…”

“I’m so close…” you heard him whisper.

You traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the tension beneath his skin as his breath hitched against your neck. With the rest of your energy left, you lifted yourself and met his desperate thrust. The sound was lewd, disgusting– so wet and filthy.

The world outside disappeared—there was no sound, no movement, no thoughts. Just Aaron. Just him and his big, girthy cock, and his desperate thrust. Beyond the heat of his body against yours, the endless ropes of warm cum flooded your fertile womb. You only closed your eyes and let him take you. Take everything he wants from you.

“It’s coming out of your pretty cunt, baby. Look, you’re so full of my cum…” Aaron said in awe a moment later. He got you lying on your back on the couch, your legs wide open, while he knelt in front of you. He prodded your puffy folds with wide, hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re so messy, angel.”

He licked the cum that dripped out of you. Your cunt felt raw and sore. Too used. So you whimpered as a protest. You’re too sensitive. Too sated. Too much. Too much. Too much–

Aaron smiled smugly when he saw the drunk look on your face.

“Give me one more, angel?”

Happy 600-something, everyone! I know this is long overdue but it's better late than later, right? Anyway, hope everyone's well and healthy (I'm sick right now so don't be like me!) Drink a lot of water and eat well. As always, I appreciate every like, replies, reblogs- everything. Thank you so much for the support. I love you all. See you on the next ones! xx

Tag list: @downbad4reid, @roseydoesypoesy, @pastelpinkflowerlife, @justyourusualash, @hotchsmutrecs, @msfreedom, @birdysaturne, @gghostwriter, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @fore45fore, @actualdeemon, @diksy1112, @jethro-mcgee-tony, @hotchnerbau, @iniyalovesall, @222hwilsss, @balariie, @oliviabbb, @ncis0mrs0gibbs, @jasonswhitetuftofhair, @m4pl, @zaddyhotch, @fandom-garbage, @obsessed-oops, @ujws5, @babybluelrh98, @seraphinlover, @reidsflwr, @cattt777, @fishsticksarenice-blog, @velvetinkbym

[mcflymemes]

INQUISITION PARTY BANTER  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition

you... actually look like that?

thank you for remembering. sometimes people forget me.

it's interesting watching you. the way you carry yourself when you use magic.

why are you so angry at your father? he wants to help and you know he does.

no one needs to see my arse.

you're set on being sad forever.

remember, do not use it like a sword.

i'd just eat the cheese.

always knew you were up to something.

you didn't always have a beard.

sometimes love isn't enough.

there were so many wonderful hats.

you're happier now, [name].

you have so many feelings.

i am uncertain whether to believe you.

the world doesn't make sense to them. it's too real.

you're right about that. they would.

do you need to eat? or sleep?

you would stop it if you could.

i can't tug it loose without tearing it.

stop. it isn't about you.

i believe i can work with that.

you have other things to carry.

you're serious, aren't you?

you let it keep hurting because you think hurting is who you are.

it is because you think you have to?

you ask a lot of questions, [name].

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

i'll have to steal that one.

hey, when this is all done, if you ever need my help for anything, you just ask, all right?

maybe you're not a complete moron.

we were having a moment, and now you've ruined it.

i can't believe you drank that swill at the tavern.

i'm well aware you lied to me.

that is... remarkably decent of you.

i don't want to think about that right now.

you need a hairbrush.

when you charge at them, you make them hit you.

i'm curious about you. i had no idea something like you was possible.

how do you want to be remembered? valiant yet sexy rebel against the status quo?

it's not easy finding people willing to shoulder such a terrible responsibility.

it's not such a terrible thing. some of my best friends are murderers.

who's judging now?

i know your kind.

i know that what comes out of your mouth is the same drivel that comes out of theirs.

careful i don't club you on the head.

if i had something to say, i'd say it.

if we're going to fight at each other's side, we need to get along.

enough, both of you.

you said i could ask you questions.

how do you get your hair to do that?

do you think we could ever be friends?

killing him won't make anything better.

if you really cared, you could ask.

you caught the eye of a young woman in that last village.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

i question your reasons for being here.

my reasons for being here are the same as yours.

i think that's the first time i've heard you admit anything is complicated.

what made you change your mind?

i will try to be more like you.

you should learn to watch your back.

i mean. could be naked more. that'd be better.

beardy people are supposed to be jolly.

why are you complaining?

you're smirking again.

right, here we go. what is it from you?

there is no need to tell anyone that.

does yelling while we're walking around count?

stop pointing that at me!

you need a drink or something, you tell me.

[beach-hermit]

(alot of) Elliott headcanons

Some are random, some are unnecessary detailed

-Has a hair and skin care routine (that's why he needs that long to leave his house in the morning)

-Has a drivers licence, but he doesn't like to drive (mainly because he doesn't own a car, since he is in Pelican Town)

-Wears glasses when he reads or writes (I imagine when his kid shows him something on the phone, that he has to first pull out his glasses)

-Twirls his hair when he is concentrating or nervous

-Combs his hair when he's bored, even if it's already perfectly combed

-Can't cook very well, but is always trying his best

-Can sing and likes to sing

-If Elliott didn't became a writer, he would be a musician

-Likes to dance

-Randomly uses other language(s)

-He is confident, especially when it comes to his looks. He likes his appearance, but doesn't brag about it

-Coffee addicted

-Elliott picked up drawing, because he thought it looked easy when he saw Leah doing it without problem

-Likes all the flowers, but the rose especially

-Is a foodie (ofc)

-Doesn't swear. He thinks it's unprofessional and will ruin his vocabulary

-When he's mad or irritated, he'll accidentally say fuck or shit, but will instantly, dramatic cover his mouth in shock

-He doesn't get angry easily, but gets fustrated alot

-Elliott would never resort to violence, if there isn't a reason too (only if he gets attacked or his partner gets attacked)

-Probably had a little drinking problem before he got married, but doesn't like to admit it

-He's lightweight (gets drunk easily)

-Always wears a hair tie on his wrist. Just in case

-Actually doesn't like getting his hands dirty

-He talkes alot and most of the time, people don't really understand him, but they just let him talk

-Elliott uses large words that the average Pelican townie hasn't heard before

-Loves telling bad jokes

-Has no idea how to use a computer

-Carries a small notebook with him, in case a idea pops up for his novel

-Stole from Pierre once because he didn't had enough money, Elliott felt extremely guilty but also didn't wanted to tell Pierre, so he didn't shop there for a few weeks

-He doesn't shave constantly, but when he does, he shave his whole body as soon as he can't see his skin anymore

-He only shaves his beard to make his face look more youthful and to show off his bone structure

-He's always warm

-Elliott sometimes walks around naked in his cabin, mostly in the morning or at night (also in the farmhouse)

-Will occasionally takes morning laps (single and married)

-Has tried smoking once and almost threw up

-If Elliott has a problem with a townie, he just won't speak with them, if the issues wasn't his fault. (He basically waits until they apologize)

-His voice gets higher when he's nervous or scared

-He snores, not extremely loud but you can hear him outside of the room

-Sweats easily

-Elliott is soft spoken, if he's mad tho, his voice ton gets "dark" and even a bit louder

-Elliott's a fast thinker, he always has the "right" thing to say and knows good comebacks

-Elliott knows alot of useless stuff about alot of things

-Remembers the names from people he just met

-Pays attention to small details (people or in books)

-Gets offended when someone uses foul language, in front of him or to him

-He has problems to fall asleep sometimes

-His handwriting is small and in cursive, that almost no one can read, everytime he writes something down for someone, he writes in block letters

-He is expressional, you can tell if he's sad, mad or happy

-Doesn't really celebrate his birthday, for him it means that he'll get older and that makes him depressed

-Elliott is strong

-But he got no combat knowledge

-Falls in love FAST

-Is good at guessing

-Gets spooked easily

-He collects useless stuff like: shells, rocks, leaves and blossoms

-Elliott is resentful, he'll never forgive you for divorcing or cheating, but he'll cry about it for a looooooong time

-Writes love letters and poems, that he wishes to someday he can share with his future spouse

marriage

-When it's a slow, lazy day on the farm, Elliott would just wear a tshirt and sweatpants, when he knows he won't go outside today

-Elliott only shows that side of comfort to his spouse. He'll never walk outside not wearing his signature formal wear, because he likes people to believe that he always dresses that good.

-Doesn't want to stay in a dirty place for too long, that's why he likes to clean the farm house

-Is always paranoid when his spouse comes home too late (even if it's only 5 minutes)

-Preferres gardening work over farming work

-Elliott jobs will be: planting plants, takes care of the greenhouse, laws the lawn, waters everything and remove weed

-Actually took his piano with in the farm house. (would be cool if the piano would be in his farm room or at least a furniture item that you get when marrying Elliot)

-When his spouse is home and tense, he'll give them a massage, draw them a bath or just be there for them

-Elliott will "force" his spouse to take a day off, to just relax and spend some time together

-Will agree on being a house husband

-Now that Elliott has access to a kitchen, he'll try some dish combinations

-Elliott only cooks when his spouse isn't home, so that they can't see the mess Elliott is going to make in the kitchen

-If his spouse is pregnant, he'll take over the farm and other activities for them, so that they have no stress

-Will speand his own money on giving gifts to his spouse or child(ren)

-His spouse may wake up with Elliott's hair on their face

-Elliott needed to get used to sleep in bed with someone, so in the early states, he would take over the whole bed on accident

-Usually calls his spouse: love, dear, honey, sweetheart, sweetie and darling. If the name allowds it, he also gives them a nickname

-If he finds his spouse passed out (and isn't hurt), he carries them all the way home

-If his spouse has long hair, he likes to play with it

-Secretly watches his spouse from afar if they work on the farm

-Puts his relationship experiences into his novel

-He keeps a picture of his spouse (and children) in his wallet

-Elliott always wears the mermaid pendant, it doesn't matter when or where

-Give's his spouse a good night kiss, if they fall asleep before him

-Man loves to cuddle

-Likes to rest his head on his spouse's chest

-When he's in the town, he wears the mermaid pendant and a wedding ring, to show off and let everyone know that he belongs to a wonderful person

NSFW version

[sirianasims]

Chapter 36

Out Of The Woods

“Daddy, did you see how fast I was? Did you see me?”

“I saw you, you did so well! Ivy and I were cheering for you all the time.”

Hailey had placed second in her first track run. I worked as a coach for the track & field teams now, so Samuel had been sitting with Ivy as they watched Hailey run.

We went to the pier, all four of us together for once, and got ice cream. Hailey was excitedly telling Samuel all about her track times.

It made my heart swell, not so much because she seemed to have a talent for running, but because I hadn’t seen her so proud of herself before, and I was happy that Samuel was here to experience it too. I didn’t want him to miss too many of the girls’ milestones just because we were no longer together.

The girls ran off to try the ferris wheel and we were alone. Samuel awkwardly scooted over to where Hailey had been sitting. We never spent any time together these days. Ever since that uncomfortable Winterfest a year and a half ago, we had mostly kept it to administrative texts and taking turns picking up the girls from kindergarten.

Finally, Samuel cleared his throat.

“So, uh. You look… well.”

I couldn’t help but smile. I was sweaty and Ivy had wiped some ice cream on my sleeve, but I did feel better than I had in a long time.

“Thanks. You too. The beard suits you.”

We talked for a while, carefully sticking to safe subjects. I told him about Jessica getting into fashion design, how she was planning to move to Del Sol Valley with her boyfriend. Samuel updated me on Daria and Griffin who just found out they were expecting a baby.

Then, his expression turned serious.

“Do you ever… have you talked to Charlie?”

I realised that it was the first time either of us had spoken his name for almost two years.

“No. I wouldn’t pick up if he called, but he hasn’t tried.”

“He actually called me when he heard about the divorce. But we didn’t speak for long. I may have said that I would personally castrate him without anaesthesia if he ever contacted you again.”

“Samuel -”

“With a dull scalpel. I was pretty angry at the time, and he said some really cruel things, and… I just don’t know who he is anymore. I haven’t heard from him since.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to give him a hug, but I couldn’t imagine Samuel would ever want me to touch him again.

“Samuel, I’m really sorry that I screwed things up for everyone. Not just us, but you and Charlie too.”

Samuel sighed and attempted to smile.

“Hey, he wasn’t exactly blameless. He was supposed to be my brother. He should never have... anyways, you said you wanted to discuss the girls’ living arrangement? Are you not happy with the split?”

I was grateful for the change of subject.

“I am, but I’ve been asked to coach the track & field team for seniors as well. And I would like to accept, but it’s in the evenings and I’d need you to have the girls a bit more often. I know your schedule can be difficult, so I only want to do it if you can find the time.”

He looked relieved.

“Sure, we can figure something out. For a moment I wondered if you, you know… Found someone.”

“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. I just figured I should be doing something worthwhile with my time now that the girls are getting older, instead of being stuck in the house all the time.”

“You do know that was always an option, right?”

“Sorry, Samuel, I don’t mean to sound like I was a prisoner. It was my own choice to stay at home, I know. And you did try to talk me out of it.”

“Maybe I should have tried harder.”

“Samuel, don’t. I doubt you could have convinced me back then. I was pretty out of reach, I think. You were right, there was nothing you could have said that would have made me listen.”

We were both quiet.

I wanted to ask him if he was seeing someone, ask why he cared if I was. But suddenly the girls were back and begged for more ice cream and the moment had passed.

beginning / previous / next

[wanderingblindly]

Hi sweetheart!!!!!!!!!!!! for the drabble thingy, 9, D, sebchal👀💖 love you💖💖

oh my god this was so fucking fun to write, thank you for the GENIUS prompt choice love!!!! cranked this out before i went to bed, i hope you enjoy the slight crack vibes!!!!

prompts here xx

Oops! All Twink Death (Charles Leclerc/Sebastian Vettel, 1k words)

His head is too far up on the pillow.

In fact, it’s all wrong; the sheets are pulled up too high, not pooled around his feet like they usually are. There's a second pillow pressed up against his back -- actually, why is he sleeping on his side? He's been a stomach sleeper his entire life.

Sebastian groans, rolling over. It's never a good sign to break routine on a race weekend, especially when it's so easy for the smallest detail to linger like a rain cloud overhead -- a constant feeling of wrong-footedness. Cutting his losses, he peels back the sheets and flings his legs over the edge of the bed, slamming them onto the floor with much more force than usual.

Is the bed… lower?

His feet shouldn't touch the floor that quickly.

His hands grip the edge of the bed as he stares down at his feet. Suddenly, he catches it from the corner of his eye -- longer fingers, more pronounced veins on the back of his tanned hands, and well-manicured nails. His stomach lurches when he brain catches up, a panicked confusion building in his throat.

Because those aren't his hands. Sebastian knows these hands, knows the way they feel against tongue and teeth and flesh. Faster than a jump start, Sebastian flies off the bed -- tripping over his bigger feet -- and stumbles over to the bathroom mirror.

In Charles's distinct accent, he gasps: "What the fuck."

Frantic knocking on his hotel door confirms his immediate thoughts: that should be Charles with his body, then.

With careful steps, his new center of gravity more unsettling than sailing rough seas, Sebastian moves to open the door. "You'll wake the neighbo--"

"What did you do?!" Charles cuts him off, pushing his way into the room and grabbing Sebastian -- himself? -- by the wrist, dragging them both away from the door.

"What did I do?" He scoffs, both a little offended and amused as Charles paces across the room, tugging his hands through his hair agitatedly. It's bizarre, seeing Charles's youthful and expressive body language on himself -- almost like a return to a Sebastian long-gone.

"Well of course it wasn't me!"

"I mean, at least we switched with each other?" Sebastian offers, moving to sit down on the bed. He pats the space next to him, encouraging Charles to come tangle in his arms; maybe it's best if they both calm down first. "Because, well, it could be worse, right?"

"Could it?" Charles asks, voice pinched and eyes bright -- nearly manic. "I'm old, Sebastian!"

Ouch.

Sebastian smiles wryly. "Oh are you?"

If Sebastian didn't have the hottest driver on the grid wrapped around his finger -- if he hadn't always had the most desirable drivers under his thumb -- then maybe that would have hurt. But as it is, Charles acting like a panicked, distressed kitten is almost endearing -- batting at him without claws.

"It's --!" He stutters, finally freezing to stare over at his own body; Sebastian looks like a cat eyeing it's prey. "It's not old on you, but on me! I'm old!"

Sebastian didn't realize his accent got so heavy when his body was angry, nor that he could still blush so much.

"No wonder Mark always wanted to sleep with me," He smiles, eyeing his body up and down slowly. "I see the, hm. Appeal."

"Oh my god, it is not the time to be --!" Charles flutters his hands about, waving vaguely between the both of them. "We're fucked, Seb! And you already know what they are saying about me on Twitter, that my beard is --"

"Really hot?" Sebastian perks up, still trying to steer the conversation in a more… palatable direction.

"That it makes me look like I'm in, you know, twink death." He says it with derision, like speaking the words sealed his fate.

He can't help but laugh, laughing harder when he sees Charles's blush deepen -- running down his neck and towards his chest. "I'm sure you won't twink die, or whatever you're reading --"

"Twink death, Seb." He sounds nearly on the brink of tears -- god, yeah, Mark really had a point here.

Clearly it's not about being in Sebastian's body, really. It's something bigger.

"Oh Charles," Sebastian sighs, reaching his arms out to grab Charles's wrist; he never realized how small his hands are compared to Charles's before, the feeling of wrapping his fingers around him so easily makes him lightheaded.

Anyways.

He tugs Charles onto the bed, landing next to him with a pout. "You've never looked better than you do right now," Sebastian whispers in his ear, snagging his teeth on Charles's -- his? -- earlobe, the way he knows his body likes.

Charles shudders, Sebastian's hot breath on his sensitive skin surely sending shivers down his spine. Encouraged, Sebastian grabs Charles's hands and slides them under his shirt, pressing them against Charles's body's torso. "Do you know how much I love how big you feel now?"

"Seb," Charles whines, voice delightfully needy; Sebastian can't decide if he likes it better in his or Charles's accent. "That's not, you know that's not what I --" Sebastian pulls his hands up further, tracing the paths he's learned elicits a shudder from Charles's body.

He grazes his nipples, and his breath catches. God, is this what it always feels like for him?

"Wanna fuck about it?" Sebastian asks, mischievous smile on his lips, the feeling sharp and confident with Charles's beautiful mouth.

"Oh Jesus," Charles falls forward, burying his face in Sebastian's neck.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck, yeah. Yeah, ok."

Problem solved, probably. The self-esteem part, anyways. The body problem can wait until later, probably.

[roxannepolice]

Brain at 4pm: Loooook, I knooow you have that one scene you want to write but... I'm just... not in the mood? Thanks for the candles and music and all, but... naah.

Brain at 4am: I won't let you sleep until you write that down :3

- Give that poor hamster a break - the Master's voice was muffled by the pillow.

- Huh? - the Doctor turned towards the other Time Lord in confusion, only partially caused by a sudden halt to his thoughts.

- The hamster. In the rusty squeeky wheel you call a brain. I can't sleep with the noise.

- Right, as if you cared for some hamster - the Doctor quipped and, shoving his hands in his pockets, came closer to the bed.

- Cute, hungry and agressive... I do feel an affinity to them.

The Doctor snorted. And then, if only to keep other thoughts at bay, he asked a question that's been bothering him since the... cheesecake.

- I was just wondering, you know... What have you been up to between getting sucked through the gate and the Mondasian colony? It was a while, judging by the beard and hair...

- Are you saying I look old? - the Master turned towards him lazily. From where he stood the Doctor could see his amber eyes gleaming in the dark. - And anyway, you figured it out, didnt't you? The Time Lords cured my little condition and kicked me out, then I couldn't drive... I have to wonder, were you this polite with her?

- With who? - the Doctor dodged, clumsily.

- Oh, come on. The girl me. Missy - the Master wrinkled his nose. - Couldn't help the feeling you saw her as... distinct from me, the actual me. I got sucked to Gallifrey because I'm so incompetent and then she pops in with empathy that came from nowhere.

There was hurt just detectable under the Master's scorn, but what he said brought up one of those nasty pussy wounds the Doctor figured out he has to face, whether he likes it or not.

- Was hard to be polite with you after what you did to Bill.

- Ah, of course, because if only I wasn't there, you would have swooped in - once you finished your absolutely necessary show of brilliance - and got her out with only a cyber heart that had nothing to do with dragging her to an epic adventure she was absolutely not iffy about.

- Don't make this my fault - the Doctor's whisper was angrier than a shout could ever be.

- Not saying it was your fault - the Master made a show of how unmoved he was - just a consequence of your action. Or inaction. You know, by the time we got to my room you have already started scribbling on a blackboard. I imagine you could have already reached the lift by then.

- Can't imagine why with such an efficient mind you ended up ruining a perfectly functional colony - the Doctor spat back.

- Well, you met them, not exactly the brightest bunch in the universe - the Master shrugged back.

There was a moment of heavy silence in the darkness. The silence of clouds heavy with thunder.

- Why didn't you stay with me? - the Doctor finally broke it, a light rain deadlier than any noise.

- Oh, I don't know, because my experience with considering what happens when I'm dead is that saving someone's ass gets mocked at best?

- That's just petty.

- Never said I wasn't that. You were there when I executed Bill Gates over a Windows update.

- And apparently you heard some words I said.

The Master cursed quietly, angry at his blunder.

- Ok, I listened, as in registered what you said, but you speech was so incoherent I woulnd't say I heard anything. "Without witness, without reward" this, "you're going to die too, how will that be" that - no accent deserved the butchery the Master did to the Doctor's Scottish one. - So which one is it, without witness, or what about after you die? Seems a bit contradictory to demand no witnesses yet worry about after you die... You'll be dead, what's that to you?

- Much to anyone you might have helped.

- Sounds like a witness to me...

- This is strawman sophistry, you know full well what my point was.

- Urgh, professor, I don't believe I noted that down...

- Just... be kind. Don't turn back on other people. Save them if you can.

- As you did Adelaide Brooks?

This silence was more like the soft ringing after your head gets hit by a brick.

- How... what do you know of Adelaide Brooks? - the Doctor asked quietly, his voice choked. He made so sure to keep his thoughts away from the Bowie Rocket launch throughout the party. So sure, even the Master couldn't have...

- No, I haven't peeked in on your hamster. Didn't have to. That rocket's timeline was as clear on your whole being as waves on a radio. Wasn't hard to figure out the rest. So?... - the Master raised himself on the bed in a way reminiscent of a cat spotting a mouse drowning in a bowl of cream.

- I saved her - the Doctor whispered, without looking at the Master, instead hugging his own chest, his head lowered - and two other crew members. Couldn't save everyone, but I could save them. Her. They were... I saved them, too, but I was saving her... And then she... and then she...

- And then she reminded you laws of time aren't just fancy abstractions made up by Rassilon and Omega during an orgy, only constant flow of musts, musn'ts, wills, won'ts, wants and not wants. How about that.

There was another moment of silence, this one wet with unseen tears.

- That's your problem, Doctor. You believe you can see without being responsible. And, consequently, aren't responsible if you don't see. Responsibility can't see you if you can't see it. And when I tell you one must either rule or serve, becuase that's what responsibility is, you dismiss me as a villain in your fairy tale.

This moment of silence was soft and cold as a burrow in snow.

- Still such eloquence - the Doctor finally said. - But if you do know all this... why destroy?

- That's one easy way to really stop being responsible.

- Easier means more boring - the Doctor echoed the Master's earlier words.

- Guess sometimes - the Master started in silence warmer by bodies pressing against each other in the snow - sometimes boring isn't so ubearable. Don't tell anyone I said this.

The Doctor kept looking at the floor, still hugging his chest. That's not your fault, Donna's voice echoed in his mind. You can't save everyone, echoed his not-own.

Then there was rustle of bedsheets. The Doctor glanced at the Master over his shoulder. He pulled away the covers making a place for him in his bed.

- C'm here.

- What? - the Doctor asked with a disbelieving half-smile.

- Oh, come on, you clearly want to sleep, but don't want to sleep alone, and even you have enough dignity to not get between your evil stepmom and favourite niece, and even I have enough taste to not let you kicked puppy face interrupt the birthday girl getting the presents from her husband. So. Come here.

The Doctor snortled, but undressed to his underwear and got into the Master's bed. The other Time Lord promptly turned his back on him. 

- No cuddling, though, you try to cuddle and I'll bite your arms off.

The Doctor snorted. Pity. As Donna called him out, he did like the Master in this body, and now, and even on the colony ship, there was a certain... softness to his form, which looked traitorously welcoming.

- Are you now saying I'm fat? - the Master hissed without turning back.

- No, not really - the Doctor laughed. - Just... I do like the look. And that's just the thing. You look like you lived quite some time between the gate and the black hole. That's why I asked.

The Master sighed.

- Well, not that I really immediately crashed because I couldn't drive, it was some good, veery good years in between, at least on my side of the experience. But no, not as long as it looks. Still back on Gallifrey, after I was stabilized and had the drums taken away... - the Master swallowed and the cuddling prohibition became even harder to obey - I finally had a moment to look at myself and. What the actual fuck, I looked like a 90s grunge band dropout!

- It was kinda cute - the Doctor laughed. - I liked it.

- You're not exactly known for your taste, dear Melanie will back me up on this if nothing else. But anyway, I figured out I can wait for my hair to grow out, or I can make a good use of some 5 minutes worth of Artron energy.

- You spent 5 minutes of your life to deal with a bad hair day? - the Doctor laughed again.

- A good deal to not have to avoid mirrors for a month! And no, the 5 minutes were for the full set with the beard.

- I like the beard, too.

- Couldn't help but notice.

- I always like you.

- Don't get soppy on my bed.

- You're beautiful.

At that the Master didn't find a flippant response in good timing. He chose to pretend he's already asleep instead. The Doctor took advantage to break the firm no culdding rule, slowly got closer against the other Time Lord's back and placed an arm around his waist. When the only retaliation was a an angry snore, he pressed his mouth to the Master's shoulderblade, too.

And if, after a surprisingly good sleep the Doctor woke up with his hand pressed close between the Master's hearts, well. What happens on birthday parties stays at birthday parties.

[tizzyizzy]

I think the reason some people are utterly baffled by Izzy Hands appreciation is because they aren't picking up on cues that indicate that they shouldn't take all his words at face value. They wonder why we see softness, angst, vulnerability, and love in angry little henchman. But Izzy, like a hedgehog, hides his soft belly by displaying his spikes.

Like, the guy's captain instituted a no pet policy because loving a pet would make a crew member weak. Izzy has lived by these rules for years, and may have enforced them. This isn't something Izzy decided himself for kicks. It didn't come from some inherent personality defect. No one is born assuming emotional bonds are weaknesses.

When Izzy tries to kill Stede, he's still following his captain's orders, just a past version of him. If Izzy has genuinely taken the idea that love makes a man weak to heart, it makes sense that he wouldn't obey Ed's order to stand down. According to his logic, Ed literally isn't making rational decisions, and Izzy has to step in to keep him from hurting himself.

We know that Izzy isn't actually living up to the loveless pirate standard, too. Jack calls him "sentimental". Izzy spewed plenty of threats when he was banished from the Revenge...then came back to "rescue" Ed from himself.

But Izzy lives in a world where love is unacceptable, so he tells himself it's something different. It's "loyalty", not love. It makes him a good first mate, not weak and vulnerable. A tough pirate, not some namby-pamby pining for his boyfriend. But a pirate that doesn't love would have left Blackbeard once he showed weakness, if they didn't kill him themselves. If Izzy hadn't negotiated for Ed's freedom, he could have been captain of Izzy's Revenge without rival.

If love is weakness and fear is power, the best way to protect yourself and your captain is aggression. You yell and insult and threaten because you don't believe people can be trusted to be kind out of the goodness of their hearts.

Consider Izzy pulling Fang's beard when Fang questioned Ed's order. He didn't do that because he's a sadist. He did it because if a crew member questions the captain then that might be a step toward mutiny.

Compare that to how Stede runs his ship. He asks for constructive criticism. He tries to promote communication. He believes that if people listen to one another, they can reach peaceful understandings.

But that requires trusting people. Trusting they'll help you when you're vulnerable instead of taking advantage. That they won't use what you told them in confidence against you. That they'll do the best for the crew out of the goodness of their heart instead of fear of the lash.

I think the episode 10 subplot shows this perfectly with Ed. Izzy said some incredibly hurtful things, but at the end of the day, they were just words. The situation wasn't unsalvageable.

But it put the fear back into Ed. Now the crew outside, asking for a song, sounded like they were mocking him. He showed them pieces of himself he couldn't unshow.

Considering past events, Izzy likely wasn't a real threat. He threatened Ed with leaving and vengeance without doing either. Future conversations could have resulted in compromise or agreeing to part ways or something else.

But how could Ed trust that to work? Izzy is a pirate, who believes that love makes a man weak. If Izzy doesn't admire Ed or fear him, it's not like he would look out for Ed out of genuine care for him, right?

The only way to protect himself is to eliminate the threat or threaten it into submission.

Izzy seems like a very lonely man. His only close relationship is with his captain who lost interest in their work. He can't afford to be too friendly with the crew because then they might cease to respect him. So he's alone. All he has is his job and that falls apart as Blackbeard does. No one he can trust or lean on.

Like an abused dog that growls at everyone, Izzy acts out of fear, not maliciousness.

[pocket-jack]

Ok. I'm gonna share this one... Kidd and Law is Luffy's older brothers, instead of Ace and Sabo.

In this AU Ace was given to White Beard instead, and he was raised like his adopted son (so, less aggression and daddy issues, I guess). He met Luffy in Alabasta and decided to stick alongside with Straw Hats, repeating the filler episodes in dessert. They got along so well, that he shared his Vivre Card with Luffy in case if he ever needs his help. Sabo was one of Luffy's friends, when he was younger, but then he went missing after the fire at Grey Terminal, and Luffy never knew why. Then he appeared in Dressrosa attempting to gain Ace's Devil Fruit for revolutionary army, and Luffy, who wanted to make sure that his friends Fruit will be given to the right person, allowed him to have it.

Luffy in this AU was mostly alone in his first months with Dadan's clan. He was 7 years old and never had friends his age, so the best thing he came up with is to follow around a bunch of teenage thugs who play pirates.

He loves hanging out around those guys, because they were cool, and pirates, and they had a bear! And the funny hat guy's name is Penguin! And other guy wears cool glasses! And Traffy is always patches him up if he gets hurt trying to chase after them. They like a cool older brother's for him! But Traffy doesn't like when Luffy following them around. And he said that he's allowed to visit them only if he's hurt or needs his toes to be cut off. Luckily for Luffy, there's a guy who's beats him almost all the time.

Kidd is 11 years old. He's a kid who's been sold to Bluejam Pirates because his parents were poor and couldn't handle him. Luffy know he's just misses his home, that why he's always so wild and aggressive. Kidd's also love fixing and building stuff on the Grey Terminal, but last time Luffy got caught on spying him, he got beat up really bad. Many people at GT or Dadan's clan members talks about him as a little monster, who's too violent for this world. Many are afraid of him, some are angry, some are pitying him, but Luffy are actually amused by his strength. Even if Kidd causes trouble to everyone, even his crewmates, he's strong and cool. He builds cool stuff and actually pretty great at it. But perhaps he have some self-esteem issues? He often sees danger in people and their words. Just who did this to him?

Law is 15 years old. He's a pirate. And these three guys are his crew. They call themselves Heart Pirates, but currently they don't have any boat. They've had to set sail from their home to hide from the bad man and almost shipwrecked on the Dawn Island. Law never talked about this bad man, and no one, even his crew, never asked him about it either. He's a doctor. A beginner, to be right. He usually goes to GT to practice his medical skills, luckily there's a lot of wounded there. He also takes care of Luffy, because Dadan literally said "Well, he choosed you. Do whatever you want with him, just don't kill him" when he brought him to her the first time. He usually visits Dadan clan when Luffy receives pretty bad injuries and require bed rest. We all know that Luffy just can't lay in bed all day, right? Everyone is cherishing Law, because he acts like a golden child, when he stays at their place for some time: he and his crew wash the dishes, clean the house, take care of wounded and also help bring food. Dadan just ready to switch children up to this point. He and his crew also have troubles with Bluejam Pirates, mostly because Kidd have troubles with them. The battle between the Heart Pirates and Kidd's band sometimes resembles a bloody war rather than childish fight, especially when Kidd is only one standing and just can't give up no matter how hard he gets injured. HP are usually leave his little band patched up and without some of their body part as a threat (Kidd always retrieved them with fight, while the other kids were simply asking nicely or doing errands for HP as a payment).

One day they gonna become best friends and then brothers, that compete against one goal - to become King of the Pirates.

Can you imagine the scene in Shakky's Rip-off bar where she explained to them about Supernova's and especially emphasized on Law and Kidd, because they're the most dangerous out of them. And Luffy just goes "Yeah, I know, they're my big brothers!" leaving everyone shocked as hell. Two of the most dangerous guys in The Worst Generation... And they're Luffy's brothers. Why no one is surprised?

[gaiasightseeingtour]

Sightseeing - Junon Area

It's the middle of the second day since they made it through the mines. The bare mountains and dry ground glowed red in the sunlight, and the beast man couldn't help but be reminded of his home. The Junon area couldn't hold a candle to Cosmo Canyon, but the similarities still drowned him everytime his thoughts drifted.

A whisper in the grass and Red remembered running through the canyon with his mother. Wind blowing through the mountains and he could swear he could hear his grandfather's laugh. Workers gossiping around roadworks and the beast man expected Cosmo's marketplace around the corner.

Stars, he missed his home.

A sharp curse next to him brought him back to the present and he turned his attention towards Cait, who had stopped walking. The robot cat looked genuinely angry, ears flat against his skull, eyebrows drawn in a glare and a hiss on his tongue.

Red's ears flicked and for a second he didn't know what to do. He had seen Cait jovial, frustrated, even sad when they came across a stray kitten in Kalm. He didn't know how to deal with an angry Cait Sith. "...What's wrong?" Red asked carefully, giving his friend companion his full attention.

"They're belittlin' 'im again!" Cait spat and started pacing. "Laughin' at 'im for caring! Shootin' 'im down at ev'ry turn! Even Palmer's--!" Suddenly the cat stumbled a step backward with a shocked expression, before it dissolved into actual growling. "An' now 'e shut me out!"

Palmer. Another executive mentioned by name. Red is starting to wonder just what position Reeve holds in the Shinra hierarchy. But he tucks that thought away for now, Cait Sith takes priority right now. The cat looks about ready to actually start throwing rocks.

"Does that happen often?" the beast man asks carefully. "The belittling?"

"Urban Development is the laughin' stock of th' entire company," Cait explains darkly. He is still pacing. "Why care for th' city when there's still land in Wutai? Why invest in security for the reactors when there's robots tae be built, materia tae be researched?! Why fix roads or build houses when they could always use more troopers instead!"

Red regrets asking, frowning as Cait talked himself into a frenzy. He sat down and watched as the cat kept clenching and unclenching his hands, nostrils flaring with each heavy breath Red knew Cait didn't actually need. Neither of them spoke for a while.

Finally Cait Sith sighed, his ears drooping and, mirroring Red, sat down heavily on the ground. The anger left him as fast as it had come. "...The wors' part is tha' 'e won't even let 'imself get mad," he muttered, his tail anxiously gripped in both of his hands and hunched over just a bit. "'e knows there would be consequences if he ever dared tae talk back. At best they would replace 'im wi' someone who cares jus' as little as they dae, at worst they would go after everyone under 'im instead.

"So 'e doesn't."

Red stared at the sad cat for a bit, his ears flicking and his tail lightly thumping against the ground in contemplation. Then he stood up again, walked over to Cait and curled up around him without comment. Cait glanced over at him in light surprise. "...do you miss him?" Red asked quietly.

Cait looked down at his hands, still gripping his tail. "...dae ye miss Cosmo Canyon?"

A bearded smile, a hand in his fur. "Nanaki—"

Red flinched and turned away. Silence for a minute.

"...o' course I miss 'im," Cait finally muttered in response. "Ev'ry day. I wish I was there tae cheer 'im up. I wish I was there tae bite their ankles for not listenin' to 'im. But..." The robot cat finally let go of his tail and leaned back, nestling into Red with a little smile, ears perked up again. "I wouldn't give 'is freedom up so easily either. Travelin' the world wi' a friend, not havin' tae be careful not tae be spotted by anyone, actually seein' th' stars ev'ry night!"

Red smiled at his compa-- his friend's returning enthusiasm and shifted his tail so it laid lightly over one of Cait's boots in response.

"An' ye never kno'," said friend continued with a pointed hand, "when we're finally in Upper Junon maybe I can pull some strings, get ye some honest to Odin stew after Reeve's sad attempt!"

"For someone who clearly doesn't cook all that often it wasn't that bad," Red defended with an amused huff, and they stayed on the ground for at least another hour, chatting over nothing but forgetting their problems for a while.

He still deeply missed his home, but Red figured that this was okay in the meantime.

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

"Heehee..."

"...?"

"'e apologized for cuttin' me off without warnin'."

"Hm. It's a start."

[octuscle]

Branko

Sebastian was angry. Actually, at himself, of course. He hadn't bothered to find an internship and now had to take the place assigned to him by the school at the local Harley Davidson dealership for the next two weeks. But on the outside, he was angry at his parents. After all, it was their job to care. For the 16 years of his life, he didn't have to worry about anything. His father was a successful lawyer in Zurich, and his mother had brought so much money into the marriage from his grandfather's inheritance that even though she had finished medical school, she really only spent her time shopping. And with taking care of him, the only son. Why hadn't the two of them organized an internship somewhere where he could have had two relaxing weeks and maintained his Instagram account.

His mother stopped the impressive Bentley Bentayga and Sebastian got out of the car without a word of goodbye with a grumpy face. A couple of motorcycle repair shop employees standing smoking in the parking lot nodded at him with respect for the car; he ignored it and went straight into the building, hoping to get through the day with as few social contacts as possible. The general manager welcomed him personally (presumably because his father was a good customer), gave him a little tour of the offices, the showrooms, and then into the garage, where Sebastian was introduced to the shop foreman. The garage was the first stop during the internship. And he wondered for the thousandth time why he was here. In life, he would not ride a motorcycle. And in life, he wouldn't get his fingers dirty on a motorcycle. After all, the coffee he was offered wasn't bad. Really good, to be honest. And in fact, after the second coffee, somehow everything was different. The motorcycles were fascinating. And Sebastian began to soak up all the information. And with every coffee that the workshop master handed him with a grin, his interest grew. Time flew by, Sebastian struck up a conversation with the other colleagues and gratefully accepted one of the journeymen's offer to take him home. With his oil-smeared clothes, which were not really suitable for work in the garage, he would not have wanted to get into the Bentley.

The next morning, the alarm clock rang at 05:00. Sebastian was used to that. Since he had started his apprenticeship a year ago, he had become an early riser. He pulled a reasonably clean shirt and his shorts from the pile of dirty laundry, put on his running shoes, and made his rounds at dawn. After an hour, he threw his sweaty clothes in the corner, just kept the jockstrap and socks on, and without wasting time showering, put on his overalls and work shoes and quietly left the house. His effeminate parents, of course, were still sound asleep. At the bus stop, he smoked his first cigarette of the day. He wasn't allowed to smoke at home. He couldn't wait until he had his own apartment. And his driver's license. He liked his life, but being dependent on the bus and having to obey his parents was really exhausting. He was all the happier when he arrived at work. He loved listening to the engines of the heavy machines and, according to his foreman, had a talent for teasing the last out of the engines. His dream was to start in the tuning business after completing his apprenticeship.

Wednesdays were vocational school days. He hated school. Everything to do with math was okay, he could use that to tinker with the engines. But he had a hard time with languages. His mother was half Bosnian, so he had picked up a few words of Serbian, Bosnian and Croatian, but English wasn't his... Because he wasn't going to the garage today, Sebastian took a quick shower after his run. While drying off in front of the mirror, he proudly remarked that he had inherited not only the language from his grandfather, but also good genes. Unlike his effeminate father, he had a rather strong beard growth and more and more black hair grew between his abdominal muscles. When he showered with the other trainees after the gym or when they went to the outdoor pool after work in the summer, you could see that he was already further along in his development than the others at the age of 18. Probably because of this, the others made fun of calling him by his middle name, Branko. At first he had hated the master for betraying his Bosnian roots, but today he was rather proud of it. Sebastian shaved his skull as he did every other day or so, put on a jogging suit and, before leaving the house, smoked a first hand-rolled cigarette with his mocha. Since he was allowed to live in the old gardener's apartment above the garage, the smoking ban was finally history. He threw on his alpha jacket, took his helmet and sat on his BMW. Of course he was ashamed in front of his older colleagues because of the pathetic 35 kw, but in two years he would finally be allowed to ride a real heavy Harley.

Thank God it was already Thursday. During the week, the gym always came up a little short, but on the weekend Branko would again pump to exhaustion. Since he lived in his own apartment near the garage, he had a weight bench, but working out in an atmosphere drenched in sweat and testosterone was just something else. For the past three years, he had been going to the gym regularly with his buddies from the garage, and he was very pleased with the results. Whenever possible, he worked out in just his undershirt. Working bare-chested had been tried, but had only resulted in the foreman calling him into the office. Behind lowered blinds Branko had then had to blow his boss. Since then, it happened every now and then. At first, Branko had thought he was the only gay in the company, but on second thought, it was obvious that leather, motors and muscles also attracted fags. And he considered himself good proof that gasoline in the blood and pleasure in engines went well with fun sucking cocks.

Since he had finished his apprenticeship at the top of his class, Branko really enjoyed not having to sweep out the garage on Fridays. It was 3:00 p.m., and he was sitting in the yard with the other fellows, drinking an after-work beer and taking a drag on his cigarette butt. This weekend he didn't have to work in sales on Saturday, which he quite enjoyed doing occasionally, this weekend belonged to the Gym and the boys. Let's see if the weather also allowed a ride on the bike. But for now, he had to make his way to his mother's store. Every Friday afternoon he had one of her girls polish up his body for the weekend. He might look macho, but for him that included manicured fingers, a carefully trimmed beard, and a freshly waxed back. Like his Bosnian uncles, Branko had had strong body hair from an early age. He loved the developing fur on his chest. But hair had no place on his shoulders or back. His mother once again greeted him somewhat effusively when he entered her salon. Branko was always a little embarrassed. Especially since people who didn't know him and his mother might mistake him for her lover. At 34, his mother, who had already come to Switzerland pregnant from Banja Luka, was just 14 years older than him. And his father's money had not only been seed money for a successful cosmetics empire, it had also ensured that his mother was the epitome of a MILF. Lots of exercise and plenty of visits to talented plastic surgeons had ensured a flawless body.

On Saturday, too, the alarm clock went off at 05:00. Without discipline, the muscles did not grow. And before the gym opened at 07:00, Branko put great emphasis on the previous running training and, of course, on plenty of protein for breakfast. Besides, he was not a night person even on weekends. He had been smoking a shisha with the guys yesterday, had fucked the horny Serbian waiter in the toilet and had been in bed at 22:00. And he was sure that there was plenty to fuck in the gym afterwards. When the beads of sweat glistened in his chest hair, he was simply irresistible. It had been a warm night. So Branko ran the twelve-kilometer morning lap bare-chested. And afterwards, unshowered, got right into the Dainese motorcycle suit. He loved the smell of sweat, cum and leather that hit him. When the engine of his brand new Ducati howled up, he got a boner right away. At 21 years old, he was a jerk-off template made flesh. And he knew it.

Before the Sunday visit to his parents, a shower was on the agenda. His parents already found it borderline when he came to brunch with his Harley. Otherwise, he could at least be well-groomed. Punctually at 11:00 am his Harley rolled over the gravel in the driveway. Even though he was now one of the big boys, he was a bit excited. But fortunately, neither his mother nor his father made any comment about the new tattoos that adorned his right forearm. Well, he had been less concerned with his father, after all, whose powerful torso was decorated with abundant signs of Albanian and Swiss national pride. And more importantly, his mother's ratty youngest brother showed great interest in the tattoos. After dinner, Branko showed Dragan the rest of the new tattoos and his new PA upstairs in the old gardener's apartment.

Monday morning Branko was already at the gym at 05:30. The cardio training Dragan and he had more than ample yesterday, but the muscles desperately needed to be pumped up again before work. Thank God the Serbian muscle hunk had an early shift today. At least he could talk to him. The blond Swiss, who usually worked at this time, probably despised him for his broken German. And Branko despised the Swiss because, as a crossfitter, he didn't lift iron. In the garage, the week started at 08:00 with the meeting of the foremen and the department heads. One of the few moments during the week when Branko had his upper arms covered at work. Whereby his supervisor had also rolled up his T-shirt sleeves quite unabashedly. Really massive arms, Branko thought....

Sunrise was early on this Tuesday in June. But since Branko ran the Harley-Davidson branch in Tirana, it was important to him to answer the call to prayer at least three times a day. Many of his employees and also his customers were much more devout than he was. He had to adapt to this if he wanted to survive in this market. And when his father had sent him from Switzerland to the country of his fathers to build up the business there, Branko had resolved to make his parents proud. That's why he now went by his middle name, Granit, in public. It suited him much better, he thought with a grin. After praying, Branko once again examined the magnificent piece of machinery that was to be handed over to a customer this morning. If it wasn't so hot, Branko would have thrown on leather pants and jacket himself. But in hot temperatures, a tank top and combat pants had to suffice for a credible appearance. And he hoped that it would be hot again today.

[thechargrey]

Really finding it interesting how many people are pushing Ted to be something he's not this season.

We've always had the club fans who have a hatred for Ted for not caring about if the team wins or loses. They've come around to some degree, but still so often call him a wanker. And in s1 we also had Trent Crimm was questioning if the Lasso Way is an ethical way to run a football club.

But Ted has done a good job proving just how much team dynamics make a difference.

So it's really hard to watch Rebecca, Roy, and Beard pushing Ted to step away from his method in favor of pushing the team toward winning. And it's really hard to watch Ted struggle to deal with that.

It seems like he doesn't want to tell these people he cares about no, that they're going about it the wrong way, or that they should trust him like they always have. It's a bit like he's unsure on if his methods really are as good as he thought they were.

Maybe instead of making him angry, Nate leaving actually just made Ted doubt himself, and we can see it even in the symbolism of the Believe sign being ripped in half and just taped back up on the wall, without actually being fixed. That's why he's not mad when Beard and Roy's plan failed. He couldn't be sure it wouldn't work himself, after every person was pressuring him so much.

But I'm glad that failure happened, because I think maybe it will help Ted stand up for his ideals again a bit more, and maybe make Roy and Beard and the team re-Believe.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

A follow-up to this

"That cannot possibly be him."

Ella takes a breath as she and Lane step into the little coffee shop near her apartment. It's actually really cool; it feels like stepping back into the 1930's. It's decor is deeply retro.

But Lane isn't paying much attention to the art deco style. Her eyes are trained on the boy sitting at the back of the shop with overgrown hair and a bushy beard.

"I did mention he burnt out really fast in California, right?" Ella offers.

"You did, but I didn't realize the burnout included looking like a mountain man," Lane hisses. She sighs. "He's really that bad?"

"He's not great," Ella responds. "Look, I know you guys left things on weird terms, but give him a chance. As a guitarist. And...maybe as a friend?"

Lane steels herself, standing a little taller and nodding. "Okay. Friend. Guitarist. Guitarist. Friend. That's a better order."

Ella nods as well and leads her back to the table, where Dave is nursing a large coffee. He looks up, and his eyes widen, bringing him quickly and clumsily to his feet.

"Lane."

"Dave," she responds, crossing her arms.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Great start," Ella grins. "Lane, what's your coffee order?"

"Oh," she says, blinking. "I uh...I usually just have what Luke makes."

"Latte?" Ella offers. "They're really good here."

Lane thinks about that for a moment. About how angry her mother would be about her drinking all that caffeine and sugar.

"A latte sounds great. Vanilla?"

Ella smiles. "I'm on it." She turns to another table and waves for the young man sitting there, who has his head behind a book. He can only be Jess. "Come get coffee with me."

"I drank mine," he responds without setting the book down.

"Keep me company and maybe I'll give you a handjob later," Ella tells him.

The book lowers slowly. "It's not a terrible offer," he responds as he gets to his feet.

"I'm aware."

Lane watches them go before turning back to Dave. They both sit slowly.

"That's weird," she comments.

"So is everything these days," Dave mutters sullenly.

"So...I wish I'd known you were back on the east coast," Lane tells him.

"Why?" Dave asks. "I broke up with you."

"Well, yeah, but..." she shrugs. "I still cared. I would have tried to help."

He watches her for a long, quiet moment. "You really would have, wouldn't you?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Lane asks.

"Because I broke up with you," he repeats. "Over the phone. Like an ass."

"I dated Zach," she comments. "I now have a new, higher bar for assery."

Dave wrinkles his nose. "Zach?"

"Yep. Big mistake."

"I'm sorry," he offers. "That it didn't turn out how you hoped."

"Well, I've learned my lesson," Lane says. "About dating guitar players."

"Yeah, I...I guess you have," Dave nods sadly. "I'm really sorry I was one of those lessons."

Lane gives him a gentle smile. It's a nice apology, to be honest. More than she expected. "I appreciate that."

"So. Ella wants us both to be in her band," he says. "Do you uh...do you think we could do that? You know. Be exes and bandmates?"

"On one condition," she says.

Dave lifts an eyebrow.

"For the love of god, shave," Lane orders.

He laughs; really laughs. He's not sure when the last time he did that was. "You have a deal, Miss Kim."

She smiles. "Then, Mr. Rygalski. I guess we're bandmates."

"Oh, yay, you're smiling and laughing!" Ella cries as she rushes back over with Jess and everyone's coffees. "Does that mean we're a go?"

Lane nods. "We're a go."

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Comfort They Crave

Summary: Instead of finding herself imprisoned, Azula chooses to fight battles on behalf of everyone else even though it is slowly breaking her down physically and mentally. Sokka is the first person to suggest that maybe she doesn't deserve to be treated as a weapon.

“Why do you care if I’m safe?” She demands. She almost sounds angry about it. Angry to have someone who cares about her, someone who could be worried about her. And Sokka admits that he almost does let it deter him. Afterall, she is right. Why should he care? After everything that she’s put his sister and his friends though. After what she put he and Suki through.Why should he care, especially when she is snubbing him right now while he is trying to care. 

It is something in her eyes. 

That is what stops him from throwing up his hands and telling her that she’s right, he doesn’t care and he shouldn’t. 

Something in her eyes that says she is afraid. 

Afraid to be cared about. 

Afraid to let someone care about here. 

Something in her eyes that says that she is confused. 

Confused about how to handle a helping hand.

Confused, genuinely so, as to why anyone would care. 

Her tone is hateful but Sokka is certain that Azula really does want to know why he cares about her safety. At first all he can say is, “because no one else does.” A bad answer, he knows that even without her reply.”

“Clearly…” She mutters. Her voice is as flat as ever but he can still hear the hurt in her voice. She has come to some sort of resigned acceptance that the closest she will come to having friends is a gaggle of people that invite her to dinner because she has been fighting their battles for them. 

Today’s battle is a small team of assassins that have been after Zuko for some time. She has already taken down several of them; their capture had led to the relaying of crucial information. Details of the assassination plan that is going to be put into action tomorrow. And Sokka doesn’t think that this group particularly cares which royal they take down so long as they’ve got blood on their hands and an example to make of the body.

.oOo.

She supposes that she’d rather run the risk of death than spend a lifetime in a cell alongside father. At this point she has grown rather fond of the extremely high risk endeavors, they offer her, her best chance for peace. Her best chance for a blissful, merciful nothingness. The kind that will wrap around her and caress her body as it pulls under and away.

Away from everything that hurts her.

That will always hurt her and haunt her and torment her. 

Right now the source of her torment has blue eyes and the beginnings of a scruffy beard. Evidently this has been the source for the past few days. He is always yammering away about stupid things and telling ridiculous stories that she doesn’t care about. 

He tells her dumb jokes that aren’t funny.

Now he is pretending to be concerned so he won’t have to feel as guilty when she finally makes her way to that nothingness.

When she finally dies. 

“You’re not so bad.” He tries again. “I actually like talking to you.”

She furrows her brows, she can’t imagine why he would enjoy it. “Talking at me, more like.” 

He rubs the back of his head. “Yeah, I guess.” He pauses. “You’re the only person who hasn’t told me to shut up.”

“I’ve been trying to signal it with my eyes.”

Although she isn’t trying to be funny, he laughs. “You’re the only person who actually listens. And don’t tell me that you don’t. I’m used to people zoning out in the middle of my stories. You actually pay attention, I bet that you can tell me exactly what I was telling you about three days ago.”

“Submarine infrastructure.” She mutters against her better judgment. “How Water Tribe submarines differ from Fire Nation ones and the pros and cons of both.” 

“Exactly.” He is beaming now. She is not used to people look so cheerful over something that she has said. 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You asked me why I care if you’re safe.” He shrugs. “I care because I like talking to you. I also enjoy having you around for dinner.” He is dancing around the word ‘friend’. Not that he would consider her to be anything of the sort. 

“There are plenty of other people who you can talk to, Sokka. Maybe they aren’t as attentive but they’re more pleasant conversationalists.” She tapers off into a sigh. There is a stirring in her tummy, a depressive little tickle. 

“You’re not just some…some guard dog.” He sputters. 

They could have fooled her. She knows that they have been feeding her metaphorical table scraps. They pet her and treat her when she does well and kick her when she doesn’t even if it isn’t in a physical sense. 

Evidently she doesn’t even think that they realize that they are doing it. 

That they treat her not dissimilarly to how father always has. 

Especially Zuko.

Zuko who is so proud of himself for not turning out like his father. 

“I guess that it feels that way sometimes.” Sokka’s voice falls. He finds himself a seat next to her, shoulder hunched, posture slouched–exactly the opposite of how she holds herself. “It’s okay to feel heavy sometimes. It’s okay to show it.” He says. And then he clarifies, “You don’t always have to sit so tall.”

“Perhaps I find this position comfortable.” Even if it is only by familiarity. 

“I don’t think that you’re just some kind of weapon.”

She doesn’t believe him.

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I’ll tell them that I wouldn’t let you or that I wanted to handle it because I needed to feel useful.” He offers. “Sometimes I do that, you know? I can’t bend and so sometimes it feels like I’m not as cool or important. So sometimes I do dumb things…”

“Sometimes?”

“So that I can feel like I’m as strong as everyone else.”

Azula shrugs. “What do you need bending and strength for? You have something better.” 

“Better?”

She gives his head a good tap. “You’ve got more brains than all of them put together. They can master all the bending forms that they’d like, build as much muscle as they can. It won’t matter so long as you plan adequately.”

Sokka smiles. “See, this is why I like you.” He pauses. “You don’t give compliments very much…”

“That wasn’t a compliment it was a…”

“That’s what makes it mean so much when you do. Even if you decide to pretend like you weren’t giving compliments.” He has the audacity to take her hand. “I don’t think that you’re as cruel as everyone says, you wouldn’t be such a good listener if you were.”

She stares at her palm and at her hand in his. She considers shaking his grip away.

“Just because you have a past doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t get a future.” 

And she cracks. 

She doesn’t want to but she does. 

That armor that he has been steadily chipping away at is finally crumbled beyond use. 

Her breath hitches and she grits her teeth so to stifle the sob that wants to come forward. She swallows it down, though the tears are burning behind her eyes. She lets him rub her back. 

“It’s alright.” He assures. “You can just let it out. I think that you need to. I won’t tell anyone. As long as you don’t tell anyone that I’m also going to cry.”

“Why would you cry, Sokka?” 

“Because it just so happens that today is one of those days where I really wish that I could have bending so I wouldn’t just be the ‘idea guy’.”

.oOo.

He is surprised to find that she doesn’t tell him that that’s stupid and that he should be grateful that they think he is the brains of the group. Maybe it is simply because he has caught her in a vulnerable moment…maybe it is because they are both having one, but she pulls him into her arms and brushes her fingers through his hair.

She doesn’t say anything at all, but he can feel the care in her gestures. 

Can feel the affection. 

He knows that she isn’t as heartless as everyone makes her out to be, not when these small comforting gestures seem to come very naturally to her. Naturally, when she needs the comfort more than anyone else.

Not that he also can’t use some comfort. He isn’t just the idea guy, he is also the shoulder to cry on. The tough guy who listens to everyone’s problems and solves them. 

Just like he was trying to do for Azula.

Azula who has very much redirected his efforts and taken it upon herself to try to ease his pain.

He thinks that somehow it is soothing for her to be consoling him. 

Maybe it makes her feel less like a monster, maybe it helps her to remind herself that she is a human being filled with all of those emotions that people insist she is devoid of. 

“You know what else bothers me?” He asks.

“What bothers you?” She murmurs. He is glad for the soft and subtle quality of her voice. A voice that is so level now, he knows that she has managed to once again bury her own need to cry.

“I lose a lot of people I love and care about. I lost my mom and Yue and…I guess that’s not actually a lot.”

Azula shrugs. “One dead person is a lot, Sokka.” 

“I don’t want to lose another.”

“I’m not going to let Zuko die. Or Katara. Or any of those idiots.” 

“I’m not talking about those idiots!” He replies in a near shout. 

Azula snickers. 

“I’m talking about you.”

.oOo.

Azula swallows, “me?”

“Believe it or not, I care about you.”

The stroking of her hand comes to a halt. Surely just listening to his silly stories isn’t that profound. Really it is just a common courtesy. Yet he seems to really cherish that. She inhales through her nose. “Does it really bother you that much that I’m going to take this mission?”

“Yes!” He exclaims. “I know that there’s a better way to take this organization down. Sure it’s easier to just let you go in and do you thing. Take all of the damage that you usually take.” It isn’t lost on her that his eyes have locked on the scars that decorate her arms. The same sort that cover nearly every inch of her back and abdomen. The scars that keep piling up and up to the point where she is beginning to have trouble recognizing her own body. “It’ll take more time and planning but they don’t have to keep throwing you into the line of fire.” 

Azula shrugs. “It’s alright, Sokka. I’m used to it. If they didn’t, father would be.”

He takes her hands and squeezes them very tightly. “But it’s not alright. You shouldn’t be used to that.” 

She takes another shaky breath. The man really is pushing her to tears, she thinks that he might just be doing it on purpose. Maybe if she just gets it over with he will let her move on with her day and move on with her tasks. 

And maybe that is exactly what would have happened if Zuko and his merry band of morons hadn’t decided to come home from their afternoon of tomfoolery early. She shouldn’t have allowed him to convince her to cry. Especially not out here in the middle of the fucking palace garden of all places. 

She definitely shouldn’t have allowed him to coax her into leaning against him for a change. 

Because now they are looking at her differently. 

They are looking at her with pity and disgust. 

They are looking at her like she is weak. 

Sokka assures her that they are looking at her with empathy. That they are finally looking at her as a human being rather than something expandable. That might be reassuring if she believed him. 

.oOo.

It doesn’t take nearly as much convincing as he had anticipated now that they have happened upon her crying. Of course, Azula is furious with him, insisting very adamantly that he’d done that on purpose, that he had set her up to be caught. He’ll let her be mad at him because they are finally reconsidering their plans.

“Don’t write her out of them.” He mentions. “Let her work with us, not for us.”

“Sokka, you just said that you didn’t want her fighting.”

“I don’t.” He confirms. “But I know that she’ll take it the wrong way if we have her stay home. Let her take the lead, she likes doing that.” It’ll make her feel as powerful and strong as she likes to feel but she’ll have some support. People to make sure that she doesn’t acquire anymore painful scars. 

“Alright, we’ll come up with a new plan and…” Zukok starts. 

“I already came up with one.” Sokka cuts him off. “That’s my job, remember. I’m the idea guy.” Maybe one day they’ll catch that hint of bitter in his voice. At least this time, he is alright with being the idea guy. “I’m going to run it by Azula and let her polish things out. She’s amazing with details. I don’t know why you don’t let her make the plans. She can accomplish everything that needs to be done without getting hurt all the time.” He declares. 

It is then that he notices her figure propped up against one of the throne room pillars. He wonders how long she has been lurking for. Having noticed that she’d been noticed, Azula slips away from the pillar and wanders toward him. 

She looks much smaller without all of that armor. Or maybe it is how long the sleeves of her robes are. Or the way that her hair frames her face. And yet those eyes burn with a ferocity to match the bold personality within.

He takes her hand, it is soft and smooth and warm. “I think that between the two of us we’ll come up with a way to keep the assassins from getting to you and take care of them once and for all.” He pauses. “Without risking Azula’s life.” 

She is terribly quiet but he realizes that she is holding his hand back. Apparently she isn’t so angry with him after all. 

“That would be ideal.” Zuko replies as though this is the first time that he has actually truly considered that it might be better for everyone to try to make Azula feel cared for. 

Perhaps this mission won’t be full of love and fluff and team spirit. But it will be a start. And maybe, in due time, he won’t have to be the only one making all of the plans. Maybe, in due time, Azula’s scars will have a chance to heal. Maybe, in due time, the both of them will get the comfort they crave.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Hello! Could you write some headcanons about being one of negan’s wives?😀

Uh duh, living for these walking dead requests since I'm finally watching season 11!!!

Contrary to popular belief, I think that Negan would really just crave companionship, someone to talk to, to talk shit with, to yell at and then immediately apologize to when he's frustrated.

I think he overcompensates with a lot of wives because he wants to make sure he's feeling taken care of in every aspect that a woman could take care of him.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't have favorites and he sure as hell wouldn't want to share any of them with anyone. Especially you, he wouldn't even torture the person who thinks they're good enough for you, he'd just flat out kill them.

He'd want someone to trim his hair and his beard, someone he can look up at when they're focusing deeply on their task, a happy smile on his face.

Maybe he feels a sense of guilt revolving around Lucille and how he treated her, that he'd never want to repeat that and make sure that everyone who he's caring for, like you, is taken care of and feeling loved.

He doesn't want anyone to feel trapped or like a prisoner but there is definitely a possessive aspect to him and that he'd probably get really angry and then really sad at the thought of you leaving him.

He would pick one of the wives to sleep with him at night and most of the time it would be you without hesitation, maybe because you're actually inclined to sleeping beside him, relaxing into the protective aura he seems to have wrapped around him.

Most of the time he wouldn't want any of his wives anywhere near him when he's angry or punishing someone- maybe because, out of all of the people in the sanctuary, you'd be the lsat person he'd want to upset- but also he just doesn't want you to view him like that.

There's definitely a sense of safety and protectiveness that he has to offer, he's kind to only a few people in his life and you would be included in that list.

He wants to feel the sense that he can protect the people he cares for and loves and I think that's why he would have wives- to protect and prove to himself that he can keep someone, anyone but himself, alive and well.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy

@steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee @storytellingwitht @savageneversaw @admiringlove @starlightandfairies

[mondodisco]

Ok so, warning for chuck season 5 spoilers ahead, I just need to get something off my chest.

Ok so, chuck season 5.

I have noticed that people weren’t very enthusiastic regarding this season from the start, many people directly hated the starting imput, of course I'm talking about the whole Morgan - Intersect situation. But I’m currently on episode 2 and yk I'm loving it, it's cool!

now, my problem? it's not with the season actually, nor with the writing or the characters or what. my problem is actually with the fans.

Because BOY. We know Morgan.

Morgan has been in my top 3 characters since season 2 (in season 1 I still liked him but it took me a bit to warm up to him). Why is he in my top 3 characters? Because he is loyal, funny, he sometimes behaves in this cringe and cocky way that makes you die inside but with a smile. He is always there for Chuck, not only for him, he has always been there for EVERYONE.

Let’s take for instance my favourite character: (atm former) Colonel, John Casey. He is an angry, bitter, cold and frustrated man who has treated Morgan like shit in several occasions and never passes up an opportunity to call him moron. It took him 4 years to develop a friendship with him, and even after they became friends it wasn’t a completely healthy friendship considering that Casey still said all that stuff, just also showed he cared through actions.

And then you have Morgan on the other side. Sweet bearded man who never gave up on John. He gave him stupid nicknames in attempts to make him laugh and always let the insults slide on him, he tried to give him comfort and advice when Casey clearly was too proud to ask for it. Morgan called Casey SIR for a solid season. S I R. HE BEHAVED IN A MILITARY TRAINING WAY AND HE WORKED AT THE F BUYMORE. Do you have any idea how hard it can be to still be nice and caring towards someone who treats you like dirt?

But Morgan can do it. Because Morgan sees the good in everyone. Morgan has spent his ENTIRE LIFE tolerating bullies, he has been bullied in school and bullied in the workplace, and he would still do anything if it meant helping them. He is truly good at heart.

Now why am I saying all this? Because of several comments I saw under the first episode where Morgan starts to behave like a little shit. In a matter of two episodes he becomes cocky, arrogant, annoying, egocentric and selfish. He puts his team in danger without caring about the consequences. He has the intersect now, so he is better than everyone. He talks shit about Casey and Sarah, two people that he has ALWAYS LOVED. But there’s not only that. He starts to forget the things he likes, and THAT’S LIKE A BIG ASS CLUE OF WHAT’S HAPPENING.

HE LITERALLY FORGETS WHO LUKE SKYWALKER IS. WE SAW IN SEASON 4 THAT THIS MAN HAS STAR WARS ACTION FIGURES.

So after a loving and altruist character accidentally downloads in his brain a system (that for 4 seasons has been made clear CAN ONLY BE TOLERATED BY FEW PEOPLE) and completely changes his behaviour while forgetting things, after that what does the viewer think?

“Omg I hate Morgan he’s so annoying”

“This storyline is bad I preferred when chuck has the intersect”

“Ugh Morgan has always been annoying now with the intersect he’s even more annoying I wanna kill him”

*old gay sigh*

SOMETHING. IS. WRONG. WITH. HIM. STOP BLAMING MY MAN FOR ACTING LIKE THIS IT’S NOT HIS FAULT.

WE LITERALLY CAME FROM A SEASON THAT PRESENTED US A CHARACTER WHO BECAME A HORRIBLE MAN BECAUSE OF THE INTERSECT, IT’S HISTORY REPEATING ITSELF WHAT’S NOT TO GET.

IT’S NOT BAD WRITING IT’S LITERALLY SUCH A COOL THING. I LOVE INTERSECT MORGAN. I LOVE TO HATE HOW INTERSECT MORGAN BEHAVES AND I WANNA HUG HIM BECAUSE THE MAN HAS NOTHING TO BE BLAMED FOR.

I love my little bearded gremlin. Leave him alone.

I can’t wait to continue this season, I’m so excited I am kicking my feet and giggling.

(Also it wouldn’t be mondodisco if I didn’t simp over Casey so like omg it’s nice to know about his sexual life and I’m really hoping we get to see more of this Gertrude Verbanski of whatever her name is. That little scene at the end where he is like rehearsing what to say at the phone and he’s literally like “hello Gertrude. It is me, colonel John Casey. I’d like to have a meal with you. My treat. Oh yeah that went good” bro has never talked to a woman before only guns 😭 AND THEN AS SOON AS SHE ANSWERS HE CLOSES THE CALL BECAUSE HE IS JOHN CASEY AND DEATH DOESN’T SCARE HIM BUT ASKING SOMEONE OUT ON A DATE DOES. I love him with my heart)