#long answer is a highly conditional maybe

[windvexer]

where do you recommend everyone start with magic, or do you think its up to the individual? do you think there's anything everyone Should know to help their magic or is it so variable it's whatever you want?

A few months ago someone asked me why I didn't just go ahead and make a beginners series on witchcraft that explained the best way for beginners to start. And the normal part of me said no, I think that's more or less impossible to do well.

Then the regular part of me said, well, why not.

So I took a genuine stab at it in the format I thought best possible to get it done - audio series.

I recorded 17 hours of audio in episodic format, each about an hour long, in an attempt to describe the basic information people should know to practice witchcraft similar to the way I practice it. I estimate I'm maybe 2/3 or 3/4 of the way done (I started without an outline).

Obviously I have a problem with brevity... this is well known to my friends, who josh me about it.

But on the other hand I think I have a point, which is:

I think there is an actual answer to your question and I think that answer is either a 450 page book or a 20 hour audio series. I do not necessarily think this is my issue of saying everything in a paragraph instead of a sentence. I think that it's just one of those things that takes a long answer.

Anyway my only soundbite answer is that the very best place for people to start is to decide what they want from magic. It's perfectly fine to want to get into magic out of curiosity, or just to see if it works! But you need to figure out your immediate needs. I think that's best. Follow what leads you to fulfilling your needs. My second bit of advice is simply a personal philosophy and my stance on learning magic. It's that initial/immediate focus should be learning how to install controls on your magic and shut it down. Channeling power is a gasoline engine. Power steering, emergency brakes, transmission gears, and rear view mirrors do not come standard. You have to install them yourself.

So for the serious sorcerer, I highly recommend making safety features a choice and a priority. Learn how to cut and send away energy cords, close and lock portals, build if/then statement spells, how to build walls and set door conditions, and rebalance energies (aka cleansing).

IMO a majority of serious safety features people usually never need for themselves once they know what they're doing. But if you want to be the Village Witch™ these are probably things you do need to know to help others. And the best time to learn them is when you don't know what you're doing, aka, when you're a beginner.

[sharpasanaro]

If it were foster or adoption, and I had a partner at the time, then yes. Otherwise no. I have a medical condition that would make it occasionally difficult to care for foster/adopted kids if I were on my own, and it is basically impossible for me to have biological kids because I’d probably die or at the very least have serious medical complications.

i’m doing research reblog this and tell me if you want kids or not

[er-osion]

Stay (in my life)

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary: Red Hood comes back to your apartment for a patch job again, but his injuries are a bit more severe this time so he accepts your offer to stay over

word count: 4.3k

warnings: blood, fairly detailed descriptions of injuries, fluff

author’s note: sorry this one’s a little long ya’ll, i got a bit carried away. hope you guys enjoy. you can read part one here.

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

“Holy shit, you look terrible!” You gasp as you take in Red Hood’s battered form as he clumsily steps over to your couch.

“Thanks, you look great too.” Hood grits out in reply as he slumps into the cushions. You hurry to grab your med kit and rush over beside him.

“You’re getting blood all over my couch, Hood.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m really good at getting stains out.”

“I hope you’re also really good at surviving what appears to be multiple stab wounds and severe burns.”

“You’d laugh at that statement if you knew my background.”

“We’re gonna have to move this to the bathroom, I need better lighting and access to the sink.”

“I just sat down.” Hood exasperated.

“You know it’s not far.” You rolled your eyes at his words but couldn’t fight the rising anxiety at his condition. On instinct, you got up and held out your hand for him to take. Hood moved his head to look at your hand.

“Considering my size and condition, I don’t think you’re gonna be much help getting me off this couch by yourself.” He noted, unimpressed.

You narrowed your eyes at him but kept your hand where it was, “It’s more the sentiment. However, in your condition you might very well need all the help you can get walking the short distance to my bathroom.” Hood paused but set his gloved hand in yours. It was dirty with dust and what you assumed was blood and gripped tightly, probably more so than he realized, but you paid no mind with your thoughts wrapped up in Hood’s less than favorable state. The vigilante got up slowly from your couch and he wobbled to and fro once he was on his feet. The two of you started to move carefully to your bathroom, which was just down the hall, but Hood seemed to be more injured than you initially thought because his knees suddenly became weak and you both had to make a combined effort to catch him.

“Did you hit your head tonight?” You ask as Hood tried to restabilize himself.

“You asking if I have a concussion?” Hood responded.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking, yes.”

“It’s highly probable. I was thrown against a cement wall pretty hard.” Hood moved and wrapped one of his large arms around your shoulder for more support, immediately putting more of his weight onto you. The man was heavy beyond belief, but he did his best not to pile his muscle mass on top of you. The arm around your shoulders was secure and his hand gripped the fabric of your t-shirt tightly. Hood groaned while he settled more into you and you began walking again. Despite your rampant mind, your heart hammered in your chest at the contact and you felt the skin touching his arm dance. By some miracle, the two of you made it to your bathroom, and you did your best to help Red Hood down onto the floor in front of your bathtub.

“Can you just start listing off all your possible injuries while I get all my supplies out?” You asked Hood while you opened the first aid kit. Hood complied, and started listing off all the places he suspected was injured during his patrol tonight. You noticed, though, that his words sometimes got slurred and his sentences kept drifting off —in other words, he didn’t seem all there. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?” You probed.

“Told you, it’s very possible. What do you think, doc?” Hood shot back.

“In all honesty, I suspect you have a concussion. Maybe not a severe one, but a concussion is still bad no matter the level. How does your head feel, where it got hit?”

“It hurts.”

“No shit Sherlock, but I was hoping for a more detailed answer.”

“I guess it’s kind of a dull pain? Not like a migraine, but it also hurts in my neck and back of the head.”

“Okay, I think we need to deal with your head first.” You stopped when you realized the implications of your words. You’d need his helmet off to examine his head for any open wounds, you’d never seen Red Hood with his helmet off. Hood seemed to realize this at the same time since you saw him tense suddenly. Neither of you moved or said anything for a couple seconds, trying to figure out how to proceed. You quickly tried to remedy the awkwardness, “Look, I know I’m not supposed to see your face, I’m just concerned about your head but the last thing I want to do right now is push your boundaries, so if taking off the helmet is a no-go we’ll figure something else out.”

Red Hood shook his head, “No, you’re right, as usual. I trust you won’t go mouthing off about what the Red Hood’s face looks like.” He teased as he moved his hand up toward his helmet. You heard a clicking noise and a quiet hiss and felt your body still with anticipation. Hood slowly removed the helmet and you saw him peel off a domino mask underneath.

When his face was bare and uncovered in front of you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He’s beautiful. Red Hood was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His eyes a mystifying swirl of green and blue, dim with exhaustion but there was still this inexplicable unnatural glow to them. His hair —while slightly matted from the helmet— looked deliciously soft, the color of the night sky with a bold white streak at the front. There was a long thin scar connecting one of his eyebrows to his pale pink lips. You were speechless as you took in Hood’s face, trying to wrap your head around how someone could look that goddamn beautiful. It really wasn’t fair. Your heart was racing out of your chest and you were having trouble maintaining a steady breath while you gazed at his features. Red Hood noticed your stare and shifted a little uncomfortably under your gaze, his gemstone eyes gluing themselves to the ground.

“You gonna stare at my face all night, or are you gonna fix me up?” His voice snapped you back to reality.

“Right right, sorry. I just… wasn’t expecting to finally learn what you looked like tonight… got caught up in the surprise I guess.” You tried to cover your embarrassment and scooched closer so you could examine his head. You looked around and felt very gently for any bumps or wounds. “Hood, you’re bleeding at the back of your head.” The worry in your voice was prominent.

“That would help explain the dizziness.”

Your lips pulled into a line and you started to clean his head wound as carefully as you could, and then wrapped it gently with a bandage. You then made the vigilante promise not to fall asleep on you while you worked on the rest of his injuries. The rest of his body made the head injury look like a splinter. Multiple abrasions were littered across his torso, the molested skin was red with blood and irritation. You could see small bits of debris lodged in the surface of his cuts and abdomen. The slashes on his arms were in a similar state. As if the knife assaults weren’t enough, spots of his body were marred with blistering burns the color of bright red and white. Your heart stung at the obvious pain your hero must be in. No one deserved this, especially not Hood. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper with concern and your frown carved further into your face.

You were startled out of your thoughts when a thumb brushed between your eyebrows, forcing the furrow to even out. You blinked, and shot your gaze up to the owner of the hand. Hood was looking at you with green eyes that were clouded with emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. He had been frowning, but when you locked eyes, the edge of his lips quirked upward ever so slightly. “Keep that face up and you’ll get wrinkles before you’re thirty.” He teased as his thumb once again brushed between your brows, to further his point.

You huffed and shook your head slightly, but not too much to force his hand off of your face. “Keep coming here on the brink of death at 2 am and I definitely will.” You fired back with the ghost of a smirk. Neither of you felt the need to say anything more, Hood’s hand lingered at the top of your head for a brief moment before he retracted it back to his side. You instantly missed the contact. But, you turned your attention back to the task at hand and began caring for Hood’s various other injuries. You used tweezers to fish out the pebbles that had burrowed into his skin and then cleaned the subsequent areas with water and your saline solution. You looked at each cut to determine if it needed stitches or not. For the ones that did, you warned Hood of your plans each time and made extra careful work of numbing the areas before stitching his wounds neatly and efficiently.

Jason watched you in a daze. He could never get over how well you handled everything. Even though he knew you were worried and filled with anxiety, you worked calmly and with composure. You were focused and didn’t let your fears rule your movements, something he greatly appreciated as the one with the injuries. Jason hadn’t planned for any of this to happen. He hadn’t planned for tonight’s ambush to go so wrong, he hadn’t planned to hobble into your apartment nearly blind with pain and dizziness, and he certainly hadn’t planned to take both of his masks off in front of you. Sure, the two of you had been getting closer as of late. After your offer to host him even on nights he wasn’t injured, Jason had been showing up to your apartment a couple nights out of the week to make dinner and watch tv with you. In the past few weeks, Jason had been relishing in the change in your dynamic. Just existing in the same space as you put Jason’s head into a flurry, but in the most exciting way. The best part of his day has been visiting you these last few weeks. And of course, each time he’s entered your place he’s thought about removing the helmet and allowing you to get closer to him in a way he hasn’t let anyone in years. But each time, he’s stopped himself in fear. Fear of what exactly? Fear of putting you in danger, fear of scaring you, fear of disappointing you. Jason Tood would not be able to handle it if any of those things occurred. But there’s no time like the present, as they say. At least you didn’t flinch when you saw him. He couldn’t exactly figure out what you were thinking (whether it was positive or negative) but it wasn’t disgust he saw on your face, so a win is a win.

The black-haired man is suddenly overtaken with words and spits out without realizing, “I’m Jason, by the way.”

You freeze and look up at him questioningly. “I’m sorry?”

“My name, it’s Jason.”

“Oh! Okay, Jason…” You test the weight of his name on your tongue, “Jason, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You conclude with a genuine smile.

Jason’s entire stomach has just done at least 20 flips. His heart is beating so hard and loud in his chest he hopes you don’t hear it. The man never knew a person could say his name so sweetly. He never knew his name could be uttered without any hint of malice by someone outside of his family. Your pronunciation of his name is echoing in his mind like bells to a dizzying effect. He’s been a fool. He’s been such an idiot. How could he let fear prevent him from lifting his helmet and telling you his name, when he could’ve been hearing the beautiful way you say it all this time? Jason realizes he’s left you verbally hanging for a good minute just staring, so he clears his throat and adverts his eyes. “The pleasure is all mine.” When Jason looks back at you, he sees your smile is still plastered on your face and it gives him a strange sense of pride.

“I want you to know though, I know the mask was probably a lot tonight. I don’t want to force you to say or give up anything for my sake, I’m the one treating you. I’m so glad you trust me enough with your face and name, but I don’t want you to think I need it to help you, Jason. I’d fix you up even if you came in here one day as a bat-Frankenstein.” You’re worried you might’ve pushed him too far tonight. You don’t want Ho—Jason, to think you’re only out to discover his secret identity. You want him to understand that you’d care for him no matter the circumstances, whether you knew his face and name or not.

All at once, Jason felt his throat close up and tears brimming his eyes. Do you know what your words mean to him? Do you know how instantly you make him feel loved? Jason is so certain he is undeserving of your kindness and understanding, but here you are giving it to him freely. Will you ever understand the effect you have on him? How you heal pieces of his soul he thought long shattered. Jason’s full, pink lips quiver into a small smile. A smile of profound gratitude, appreciation, and sadness.

“Angel, it’s long overdue. You’re right on one thing though, I do trust you. I trust you far more than my colleagues would probably advise, but I do so anyway because I can’t do anything else. I keep invading your life in sharp broken pieces and asking you to pick me up off the floor, even at risk of hurting yourself. Yet, you do it each time with a grace Shakespeare wishes he could write about. The fact I want you to understand is that; if I didn’t want you to see my face or know my name, you wouldn’t. End of story. But that’s not the case, so it isn’t the end of the story. You’re not pushing me. And to know that you’d fix me up even if I did end up a bat-Frankenstein, is some of the most relieving news I’ve had all month.” Jason had to end his monologue with a small tease, worried his vulnerability would be too obvious without it. You listen to his words with so much intent you’ve forgotten the rest of the world. An invisible hand is squeezing your heart to the point it hurts. You can only take shallow breaths and you feel as though you might tear up.

“Well then, let’s finish fixing you up.” Your words come out barely a whisper and you go back to tending to his wounds. But neither of you can ignore the change in the air. The swift shift into a heavy lull that keeps a smile on both of your faces. You realize you’ll be done treating him soon and a wave of panic rises in you. He can’t leave now, not after everything we just left unsaid. But he leaves every time I finish taking care of him, without wasting a second. Then, an idea comes to mind. One you’ve conjured up multiple times in the past but never really entertained because of its unlikeliness to occur. It’s a risk, for sure. It’s very possible you mess it up and ruin the evening, but things have gone smoothly thus far and the success has given you a boost in confidence. Plus, you are still majorly concerned for his health, so you brave the question once you’ve completed the last bandage.

“I’m done wrapping your injuries, but that in no way means you’re recovered. I know you’re probably anxious to get back to your safe house or whatever, but you’re a severe liability in your condition.”

“So what do you suggest?” Jason asks with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“…Um well, I was going to offer —and it’s perfectly acceptable if you say no— but I was going to offer you stay over here for the night, to have somewhere to lie down without having to brave Gotham at night with a concussion and several broken ribs.” You refused to meet Jason’s eyes as you offered him to stay the night, so you missed how they widened in surprise and then lit with anticipation.

“Yeah that— um, I—” Jason coughed awkwardly, something you’ve never seen him do but find endearing, “I mean yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Not sure I could make it a block without collapsing. But you uh— you sure you don’t mind?” Jason’s voice softens in volume at the end of his query.

“I wouldn’t be offering if I did.”

“Fair point.” You smiled at his acceptance of your invitation, secretly giddy at the idea of him spending the night. “But um, I don’t really have anything for you to change into.”

“Understandable. I have my compression shorts on though so I’ll be fine.” Jason assures you and you nod your head. You then help him up off of the bathroom floor. Jason once again lays his arm around your shoulders for support and your stomach twists into knots. The two of you say nothing as you move toward your bedroom. Jason helps open the door with his free arm so you can shimmy your two bodies through the opening. Jason suddenly feels very awkward and misplaced inside. He’s never seen your room before, and to do so now feels so intimate it makes him light headed. This is the most personal space in your entire apartment and it is just now striking Jason that this is where he’ll be sleeping since you don’t have a guest room. Too lost in his racing thoughts, the vigilante doesn’t notice you’ve helped him to sit down on the edge of your bed. You reluctantly pull away from his grip around your shoulders to go turn on your bedside lamp, immediately feeling the absence of his body heat. Jason is pulled back into reality at the loss of contact and is hit with the need to say something but he searches for words with no avail.

It’s you who breaks the silence in a quiet but firm voice, instinctively not wanting to ruin the quiet air of the room. “You can sleep in here tonight. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything. If you get thirsty or hungry please help yourself to anything in my kitchen. The bedroom door locks too, just in case that’d make you more comfortable. Like I said though, if you need anything just come grab me, I’ll be on the couch.” You turn to leave him in privacy, but Jason quickly speaks up.

“You’re gonna sleep on the couch?” He asks incredulously.

“Well that is the only other option.” You affirmed with a raised eyebrow.

“No no no. It’s your house, you can sleep in your bed. I’ll take the couch.” Jason started to get up, but you could see him straining with each movement. You rushed over and gently but forcefully pushed him to sit back on the bed.

“Yeah, no. You are the one who’s severely injured, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch in your state. I really don’t mind anyways, it’s just one night.”

“Well I refuse to make you sleep on a couch in your own home, you already sacrifice enough just letting me in here.” You were about to protest his use of the word ‘sacrifice’ before Jason continued, with a suggestion that made you still. “We could… we could share the bed? I mean— it’s big enough for two people and we’re both apparently too stubborn to let the other one sleep in the living room.” Jason’s lake green eyes scanned your face for any sign of disgust or hesitation, his palms felt sweaty and he suddenly felt like an idiot for even suggesting such a thing.

You were frozen, the cogs turning in your head at the implications of his offer. Your heart was racing. The two of you sleep in the same bed? You had just learned his name, and now you two would be sharing a bed? You tried to stop yourself from feeling so excited at the idea. Jason took your silence for uncertainty and continued blabbering, “We’re both adults, right? I don’t mean anything by it, I just— I don’t want you getting a bad night's sleep on your couch, and your stubborn ass clearly won’t let me sleep anywhere that isn’t a real bed so… I don’t know, maybe it was a dumb suggestion. You can forget about it, I’ll take the couch—”

You interrupted him with a burst, shaking your hands in front of you to keep Jason from getting up. “Oh, no no no. It’s fine, it's fine. Really, it’s cool. We can— we can share the bed I don’t mind. It’s a smart idea. Just, ya know, be careful with your stitches and bandages. I’d hate for you to worsen any injuries in your sleep.” You tried to sound calm and collected, but really you were shaking with excitement and nerves. Jason just nodded slowly, still looking a little unsure at your agreement, but he moved to step out of his armor anyway.

You walked over to your side of the bed, and started fiddling with random nick nacks on your nightstand to try and appear busy while Jason got undressed behind you. Lord almighty, it was taking every ounce of your strength not to look behind you and oogle at what you knew were rippling muscles. “Focus, gotta get through this night without making a fool of yourself.” You thought as you felt the bed dip on the other side, signaling Jason was ready to sleep.

With that, you turned the lamp off and slipped underneath the covers. Jason copied you wordlessly and you both laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling in silence. The air was so thick with tension it was near suffocating, but the two of you were too scared to speak and break the spell of the night. You unconsciously let out a little sigh and turned on your side so your back was facing Jason. You closed your eyes to try and force yourself to sleep, but your mind was hyper vigilant at this point. You could feel the bed dipping to accommodate Jason’s gigantic form on the other side. You weren’t used to sharing this space with anyone, and the fact that you could feel his breath through the mattress had your mind in a frenzy. You were fighting every fiber of your being that was telling you —no, begging you to move closer to the man beside you.

Jason was pleading with the universe in hopes that you couldn’t hear how his heart was thundering in his chest. For someone who’s lying down, his breathing sure is quick. Jason thought this would be enough. Just having you near by, occupying the same space, he thought that’d be enough to satisfy his urge to be near you. But for some goddamn reason, it’s making it worse. How can you be so close yet so far? How much closer can he get before he crosses a line? Jason blames his exhaustion for his next move.

Out of nowhere, you feel something heavy curl around your waist. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and you have to force your body to be still. Jason uses the arm draped across your middle to pull you closer to him. Your back presses against his solid chest and you forget what it was ever like to be cold. You can feel warmth seeping into your skin from every point of contact between the two of you. You can feel each breath Jason takes pushing into your back and you can feel the speeding rhythm of his heart, which you’re sure is close to the speed of your own. Your lips have curled into a smile and you’re fighting off a sigh of contentment.

“Is—is this okay?” Jason’s question comes out in an unsure whisper. If you hadn’t been so close you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Yeah, this is okay.” You reassure at an equal volume, worried that being any louder would shatter the moment. Your smile has evolved into a full on grin.

“Okay.” Jason mutters and then presses his head into the curve of your neck. His muscular arm tightens around your waist and his hand grips your shirt gently. You subconsciously shuffle further into him, though, you didn’t think there was anyway you could physically get any closer. Still, any space left between the two of you was eliminated. Your two breaths became one as your heartbeats synced up. You could feel Jason’s warm breath against your neck and it sent shivers down your spine. Jason felt so warm and happy, here with you in his arms. Holding you felt like a reward he didn’t deserve. He only hopes he’ll be able to do this again…and again, and again, and again.

You’ve never felt so safe as you do in Jason’s arms. It’s almost euphoric, being like this with him. You never want this moment to end, but the warmth of Jason’s embrace is quickly dragging you under the spell of sleep. You hope you wake up with him in the morning, you hope this isn’t a dream. You two have probably crossed some sort of line tonight, not that either of you care right now. The unclear nature of your relationship with the vigilante is something for you to wrestle with in the morning. For now, you’ll fall asleep wrapped in Jason’s arms, with the happy thought that he’ll surely be coming back to do this again.

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt3

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife

2009, Hungaroring

There was at least 2 weeks before Formula 1 went back to racing. It means that there was 2 weeks for Y/N to hide herself and that embarrassing situation she was in. 2 weeks to prepare herself how to pretend on how to act if she sees Sebastian.

'As long as Sebastian does not bring it up then I will pretend that nothing happened' she told herself.

She tried not to think about the incident by allowing herself to be buried with answering emails and looking into other things needed pre-race.

"Did you eat already?"

A sudden orange appeared in between her and the computer screen. Y/N didn't have to look up to see which driver handed the orange because there was only one driver who would always give her an orange.

"I haven't got the chance yet"Y/N replied to Sebastian

"You should probably eat. It's not good that you aren't eating" Sebastian insisted "Can't Mark do these things?"

"I'm his personal assistant remember, I'm paid to do these"

"But is it really necessary to finish it at the moment?"

It was pointless to argue with Sebastian so Y/N took the orange and closed her laptop.

"Happy?"she asked

"Very much"

The two of them started eating the oranges brought by Sebastian. It was a habit that the two have, Sebastian calls it a pre-race ritual. He actually believes he performs better when they share oranges. So here they are sitting and enjoying the oranges.

In the back of their minds, they are both thinking about that night at the hotel but there is a certain peace between the them. They don't want to ruin things by saying something stupid.

"You heard what happened with Massa right?"Y/N tried to establish a new topic just to get things off her overthinking.

"Absolutely felt bad for him. It's a good thing that he seems to be in a stable condition"Sebastian said.

The qualifying incident yesterday has been terrifying to watch. Y/N didn't want that happening to either Sebastian or Mark or even any other driver. Her heart dropped when she saw Massa being wheeled out unconscious to the hospital.

"Do you sometimes think that you'll ever stop racing?"Y/N wondered "You have been racing since you were like young and now you are stil racing"

"I honestly don't know, racing is all I have ever known" Sebastian admitted.

"I know, you were born gripping on a steering gear I bet" Y/N joked which made Sebastian laugh too.

"But seriously, if you ever want to retire of racing. Don't retire and go out because you got badly injured. Retire because you want to"Y/N added

It was her way of saying that she is extremely cared about him. Maybe its something that she cannot put into words but maybe Sebastian can figure it all out, he is a smart man in Y/N's opinion.

With a comforting smile, Y/N was assured that he got the message.

2009, Spa-Francorchamps

"Did you try texting Mark?"

Christian Horner and Sebastian Vettel are both in a meeting room about to discuss some things with the team strategists. They were supposed to meet up 10 minutes ago but they can't go on with the meeting since Mark is not around.

It was highly unusual for Mark to be late. He is never late as far as Sebastian knows. He considers giving Y/N a text when the door burst open.

"I'm gonna punch Button in the face when I see him"Mark Webber was fuming when he entered late at the conference room.

"Hold on, what did Jenson do?"

"Punk tried to ask my sister out"Mark huffed.

"He did what?" Christian butted in the conversation "I thought Sebastian was dating Y/N"

"HOLD ON WHAT?" "EXCUSE ME?"

The two red bull drivers were on their feet. Mark seems to be ready to hit Sebastian while Sebastian was debating which exit is much more safer. Frankly, Sebastian was never afraid of Mark but with the way he is shooting daggers with his eyes- If looks could kill, Sebastian was 4 feet under ground now.

"I just thought Sebastian was dating Y/N, they are always together when she isn't following you around Mark" Christian explained.

"My sister and Sebastian?" Mark repeated

Sebastian wanted to explain himself to Mark but he is internally panicking. If Christian, their team principal, can notice then there is a big chance that his feelings might be obvious to other people in the paddock.

At the same time, he felt a sick feeling in his stomach upon realizing that Jenson Button asked out Y/N. Jenson had the courage to ask her out and Sebastian couldn't even talk to Y/N about what happened weeks ago.

Christian seems to sense the tension that he brought to the two red bull drivers

"Maybe its just me and my understanding, right seb?" Christian apologized

"Huh yeah, mmhh nothing going on" Sebastian lied

There was a sharp gaze from Mark "I'm watching you"

"Let's talk about Jenson"Christian redirected the topic "maybe he is just trying to get a rise off you. We're slowly closing on him for the championship"

"If I hit that boy with a car this Sunday, I won't regret it" Mark swears.

"Don't bring your personal life on the car" Christian reminded.

Sebastian seems to take it as a mental note for himself as well. He was actually debating that if Mark wasn't successful in punting Jenson then he would.

"Besides Y/N has to date, she is in that age of dating" Christian added

Sebastian knew that Mark has been the kind of sibling that is overly protective. Given that Y/N has been the youngest one and the one that has been following Mark around, Mark has a special worry about her. It was very understandable why he acts like this.

"As much as I could, I will not let my sister date drivers." Mark says with finality.

It felt like it wasn't just a statement meant for Jenson but it was also something meant for Sebastian. Great, now Sebastian feels like everything is more complicated than it was before.

2009, Interlagos

It wasn't Y/N's brightest idea that she went on a date with Jenson Button. She figured after weeks of being constantly asked by Jenson, she should give him a chance. She thought it could also help lessen her feelings for Sebastian.

It's a pretty bad idea now that she thinks about it.

But there was no going back because here she is sitting with Jenson at a small restaurant somewhere in Brazil.

Don't get her wrong but Jenson is charming and he knows how to make people comfortable. He is a gentleman, he picked her up with roses, asked her for her favorite dish, and was kind enough to lend his jacket when she is feeling a bit cold.

But there is something missing about Jenson.

"You know, I really enjoy spending time with you tonight"Jenson started "But are you enjoying yourself?"

"I'm sorry its just that its my first time going out for dates, I'm not good with this sort of thing" Y/N replied

"That's okay, I'm glad to be the first one to take you out"

Y/N felt the guilt of lying eating her up so she quickly wanted to clear out the air "Jenson, you are a really nice guy but you know I really think its better if we become friends instead?"

There was a small smile from the British driver. It seems like he has also felt that he was about to be friendzoned tonight.

"It's perfectly fine Y/N, I just really enjoy your company"

The dinner continued on more smoothly and they were able to share some personal details about their life. It felt like an air of relief for the two of them to clear out things that this will not be a failed date but rather a new friendship.

The media on the other hand has seen a different story.

Jenson Button winning on and off track against Red Bull?

In case you missed it, the newly declared Formula 1 champion, Jenson Button, has been seen in a restaurant in Brazil having dinner with a very special lady. Who is this mystery lady? It's Mark Webber's sister and personal assistant, Y/N.

The pairing is a shocker for everyone since Red Bull is the main competitor of Button this season. It seems like the two are a star crossed lovers in the making. People who have been in the restaurant has noted how the pair were giggling and close to one another.

We can't wait what Mark will have to say about this pairing.

2009, Yas Marina Circuit

"Sebastian please just slow down"Y/n begged.

It was really petty for Sebastian to be angry and ignore Y/N but he felt really confused on how to act around her. Ever since he read that stupid article, its all that he could think about. So while he couldn't deal with his emotions then he thinks its best to avoid her like the plague.

"I'm busy" Sebastian's curt reply

"Oh c'mon, you are not busy. You are ignoring me" Y/N was still hot in trail "This is so childish and stupid"

"Me? Stupid?" Sebastian stopped and turned to face her.

"You are calling me stupid when you are the one out there having dinner with the enemy"Sebastian wasn't thinking at this point.

"The enemy? Do you think I'm giving out secrets to Jenson?" she asked in shock

"Yes, Jenson is our enemy. You should have not gone on a dinner date with him, don't you have any sense of loyalty to the team?"

Sebastian could see the tears starting to form in her eyes. He knows that he said the wrong things and its not something that he can take back. Everything was just so heated.

"You believe those tabloids than me?"

"I don't know what to believe. You two looked pretty cozy on that front page" Sebastian really wanted to shut himself by now but jealousy is a sick sick disease that cannot be stopped.

"That's real mature of you Seb, you disappoint me" she sounds so defeated "Out of everyone, you were one of the people who I thought would believe me rather than what was painted by the media"

"Y/N you can't fault me on that, you were close"

"We were just friends and besides I-" she caught herself to stop.

There was a confession at the other end of Y/N. She almost confessed how she cannot see herself with Jenson because all she can see is how he is not Sebastian and all she wants to love is Sebastian. It was a good thing she caught herself before she slipped again.

"Besides what?" Sebastian wondered.

"Never mind. Talk to me when you mature"

"Yeah that's real mature, run away when you don't wanna face the consequences of your actions" Sebastian chastised.

Y/N felt that her tears are falling so she could only turn away and run the other direction. Sebastian, on the other hand, felt like hitting himself. It was the type of conversation he wanted to avoid because he could not contain his emotions. He bitterly regrets how this was their last conversation for 2009.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Emergency room [S. R] +18

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 12k

Summary: Spencer forgot to mention that you're still his emergency contact. You wouldn't have had a problem with it if you weren't his ex of over a year and the hospital took you out of the bed because he had a car crash

contents: exes to lovers, car accident, hospitals, mention of injuries (nothing graphic), mutual longing, SMUT, porn with plot, a little sub!spencer if you squint, penetrative sex (p in v), vanilla sex

Maybe there is a mistake with the grammar and pronouns, I swear I checked it the best I could but surely something escaped me! Enjoy :)

The ringing of your cell phone snapped you out of your hard-won reverie a few hours ago, and you sighed audibly into your pillow before opening your eyes. The device was somewhere on the nightstand, so it was enough to reach out and feel the wood a little to take it.

Virginia Hospital Center. 

You hoped the caller ID was wrong, which was highly unlikely, and you swiped to take the call, wondering what it could be.

“Virginia Hospital Center, may I speak to Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?” With a shaky voice you answered in the affirmative and then the woman continued: "I am calling because you are the emergency contact on file for Mr. Spencer Walter Reid, who has just been admitted to the emergency room”

Hearing this, you jumped out of bed like a spring and felt how a chill ran through your entire body, a sign of the obvious panic that had just invaded you.

"What happened? He's fine?"

“He suffered a car accident and now he is being transferred to the operating room. It is imperative that you show up at the hospital so that you can account for any complications and can help us complete the information in his medical history."

The woman behind the phone was barely finishing saying that when you were already looking for your car keys and a decent change of clothes. You only took what you had in your bag before getting in your car and starting the engine to start the march, even with the adrenaline that you had coursing through your system. The hospital was a bit far away, so every time you accelerated too much you had to remind yourself that you could have an accident too, and then that would be the last straw. With that constant change of speed, you managed to get there in almost an hour, a little less than the time it would normally take, but still too long for your liking.

Somewhat agitated you rushed to the reception desk, where there was a nurse whose voice you recognized from the previous call. She had to reassure you a bit when you desperately asked her, almost with tears in your eyes, to tell you where Spencer was and what condition he was in. 

“What relationship do you have with the patient?”

“I am his…” Your breath caught for a moment, thinking about whether it would be correct to tell the woman the truth or not; In the end, you decided to lie to her "girlfriend"

You and Spencer hadn't seen each other, at least not physically, for a little over a year. You often saw him on the news, in one or another now-forgotten photo that fell by accident from between the pages of your books, or in the articles on the internet about the conferences he gave; but you had never dared to contact him to go out, just as he hadn’t called again. You thought that eventually, you guys would meet again even if it was by chance, but you never imagined that it would be under these conditions. 

“Can you help me answer a few questions?” she murmured and to each question she asked you answered almost mechanically. You were quite surprised that, even with the time that had already passed, you still remembered everything perfectly, as if it were your own medical information that you were providing.

The woman informed you, as kindly as she could be, that Spencer had already been in surgery for an hour and that when the doctor came out he could explain what had happened in more detail. You thought about the hit he had suffered to end up there and the anxiety of knowing if he was okay was eating away at your place in the waiting room, where you alternated between biting your nails and moving your leg up and down to calm down.

You wondered, meanwhile, why he still had you listed as an emergency contact. You knew he wasn't a person with many friends, but it sounded more practical for that position to be filled by someone he lived with more often, like Prentiss or Hotchner, not you. It wasn't the first time you'd been in a hospital with Spencer as a patient and you tried to remind yourself that those other times everything had gone well, but on those other occasions he'd always gotten immediate care because he'd been working or it was simple things like a cold that had become too bothersome. You wondered how far he had crashed, how long it had taken the ambulance to get there, how much pain he had experienced. You were really worried, until after half an hour that seemed like an eternity you heard the nurse call you and a doctor appeared next to her.

The first thing you asked, with a trembling voice, was if he was okay, and when you felt the doctor's soft nod you felt your soul return to your body. Then he explained everything that had happened in greater detail: Spencer had been hit from the side by a drunk driver who had entered at the same time as him and who, unfortunately, hadn’t survived. The surgery had been delayed because Spencer had a stab wound to his leg, dangerously close to the femoral artery and at risk of bleeding, as well as multiple pieces of glass buried deep in his torso, which punctured muscle and could damage vessels, nerves, and tendons. He had made the emergency call before falling unconscious and the doctor in front of you emphasized that if it hadn't been for the speed of the report things could have ended worse.

"Right now he is in intensive care, you can come in to see him until he wakes up"

"And how long will that take?"

“It varies from patient to patient. I can't give you an exact answer, but it won't be for another hour or two”

You warmly thanked the doctor for the job done and somewhat disappointed, but definitely calmer, you returned to your seat in the waiting room. You asked if you could stay there the rest of the night even if it wasn't on his side and the woman agreed. A little less upset, you searched in the hospital for a place to prepare coffee and after obtaining a well-charged one you waited again.

At some point you curled up in the chair and after an hour, and the fact that the coffee had no effect on you at all, you had already fallen asleep. Luckily your sleep was light, so you could clearly hear when a new nurse murmured your name and said that she would guide you to where Spencer was, who had woken up a few minutes before. During the walk down the corridor, she warned you that in intensive care only visits of less than an hour were allowed and when you entered the room full of stretchers protected only by curtains, she took you to one almost at the end, indicating that your patient was there.

You didn't go in immediately, because you needed to get some air first to gather the courage to do it, and when you finally did, a sea of feelings flooded you. Spencer looked fatigued and a little pale. His eyelids were closed and if it hadn't been for the heart monitor next door emitting soft, continuous beeps, you would have thought he was already in a better place. 

Carefully you approached a chair right next to the stretcher and once seated there you remained silent for a moment, until you felt the need to hold his hand as a way of comforting yourself, as if you were closer this way. Said action didn’t go unnoticed by the man, who, when he slightly opened his eyes, believed that his mind was vilely deceiving him, and a second later your name left his lips as a scratchy and confused whisper.

"Hello" was all you managed to say, holding back the tears that had already pooled on your lashes. "How are you feeling?"

“I feel like everything around me is spinning”

With a little more confidence, and so that he wouldn't strain his eyes, you approached the edge of the bed, still not letting go of his hand.

"The doctor said you really had a bad accident"

"The other man? He is…?"

"Dead" you completed in a whisper, completely admiring your friend's pure spirit that allowed her to worry about who caused him to be there "He was drunk when he hit you and they couldn't do much"

"Oh," was all Spencer said, with a genuine tone of pity. You didn't know what to say, or even what to do, you were just looking at him as closely as possible to reassure yourself that he was okay and with his whole body. Your hand hadn't let go and he seemed comfortable with it.

"Do you want me to call someone?"

"A doctor?"

"To a friend"

"They..." Reid still looked disoriented, as if he couldn't even remember the conditions in which he had the accident, and when he finally got his thoughts together, he looked back at you, "Why are you here?"

“I am your emergency contact”

It took him a moment, again, to process the words. When he was aware of the situation, he closed his eyes tightly as if he had done something terrible, and looked at you with shame.

"I'm so sorry"

"Don't you want me here?"

"What? No! Of course I want you here. It's just that I didn't want to bother you with this, I… I thought I'd change that information when I found a better candidate and I never did, so months went by and I… forgot. Well, I didn't forget, but I didn't want to change it because I didn't think it would be necessary and right now I think I should have discussed it with you and I never did, so I'm sorry. Are you upset?”

“Spencer, relax,” you exhaled gently, rubbing your fingers over the back of his hand “There's no problem staying here, I just want to know if you need me to call someone. They didn't let me stay here for long."

“Call Hotch. I want to let him know that I'm taking a vacation."

It was difficult for him to keep his eyes open continuously, probably from the remaining effects of the anesthesia, so you just nodded and did as he asked. Spencer listened to the entire conversation in which you explained what had happened and even answered some of his boss's questions himself, assuring him that he was as well as he could be after an accident of this magnitude. Aaron also promised that the team would visit him as soon as possible, and he asked you to keep in touch, with an odd familiarity that made you smile.

After finishing the call, you returned to your chair and leaned over to brush his hair off his forehead, taking the opportunity to caress his face carefully. Spencer, still with his eyes closed, smiled at the touch.

“You cut it” you observed “Are you still doing it yourself?”

"Yes, still"

You smiled at him and he smiled back, but neither of you said anything else. There would be time to answer questions later.

Although he seemed to be asleep, he was aware that you were by his side for another long time, and when you said goodbye you promised that you would return there as soon as you could.

The next morning, after taking a shower and calling work that you had an emergency, you kept your promise. Spencer seemed a bit more recovered on this second visit; his color had returned to his cheeks, he was almost sitting on the bed and could basically keep his eyes open for more than ten seconds at a time. The doctor had told you that he would stay there for observation for the rest of the day and once he moved to a general room you could be with him for as long as you wanted. For now, you would have to make do with that sixty-minute visit.

"Do you feel better?"

"Not really. But I'm not complaining, it could be worse” he replied, settling better on the bed and wincing.

“I told the doctors no… I asked them not to give you Dilaudid” you confessed, with a bit of fear of his reaction “No type of morphine, in fact. They told me that they could substitute another analgesic, but that you would feel a little more pain than you normally would. Still, I insisted. I hope you don't mind"

“The doctor told me. And I appreciate it,” he murmured sincerely. He couldn't describe the ease he felt when he found out about it, for he had been drug-free for too long to mess it up by carelessness. Luckily, he had you.

"How have you been, by the way?" you shyly exclaimed, taking a step closer to him "I don't mean right now, but... during this time"

"Relatively well" he replied, inviting you with his eyes to sit in the same chair you had been a few hours ago. In doing so you hoped that he would develop a more complete answer than just two words and then he began to relate to you some events significant enough to deserve a mention.

One of the things you'd always loved about Spencer was hearing him talk, whether it was for a minute or an hour. With other people he talked fast, afraid someone would ask him to shut up, but with you he always took his time. In his words there was no sign of spite towards you, even when you thought you deserved it, always showing the beautiful heart that he harbored in that chest.

“I have also been giving conferences more often and that makes me happy. Many of the people there don't understand what I'm talking about, but those who do always come up and ask me questions. Sometimes Emily or Rossi accompany me and other times I go alone. Oh, and I'm taking a PhD."

"Another?" you said surprised, although you didn’t doubt his ability.

"I've been kind of bored, if I'm honest" was his poor explanation from him. You wanted to remind him that no one went into PhDs just because they were bored, but he was a genius you were talking to.

You didn't dare to confess to him that you had been watching some of his labor movements, but just knowing again a little about the things that were happening to him made you feel good.

“Have you been alright?” he continued, looking genuinely interested in hearing your answer.

“I have been able to defend myself, yes. Do you remember when I told you about asking for a promotion? Well, it finally happened a few months ago and the extra money has been doing me good. I have a little more work freedom, too, and I'm considering moving”

“Where do you plan to move to?”

You explained some of the options you had in mind and after hearing each one he helped you learn about some of the pros and cons in terms of costs, services, and security in the area. You would have continued your talk if it hadn't been for a nurse coming in. She was the same one that had received you the night before and you smiled kindly when you recognized her.

"Good morning, how are you feeling, Mr. Reid?" she asked, as she maneuvered to change the IV pole bag.

“Better than yesterday, definitely”

"You don't have to worry, you will recover soon"

"I hope so" he smiled.

“You gave your girlfriend quite a scare, that's for sure,” she teased, nodding her head in your direction.

You tensed at that, and if you had been an ostrich, you would have buried your head in the ground. Spencer watched you from the stretcher with a little smile and answered something you didn't understand to the nurse. They exchanged another couple of sentences until she was gone, saying goodbye cordially to both of you.

"Did she misread the situation or is there something here I'm missing?" he asked you once you were alone, looking genuinely amused.

“Okay, I admit it, maybe I lied a bit last night. I thought they would have more compassion and trust in a girlfriend than an ex-girlfriend" 

"And your real boyfriend isn't going to be upset if you're here taking care of me?"

Ever since you met him you could say that if Spencer lacked a quality, it was subtlety and now he himself was showing it. You knew that there was enough trust for him to tease you like that, but you also knew that asking about your love life was some kind of revenge for having lied to the staff and so you decided to humor him.

"No, he isn’t very jealous to say. On the contrary, he is open-minded and right now we are trying to have an open relationship. You know, I see some people, he sees others, but we still have our thing."

Spencer's previously mocking expression immediately changed upon hearing you say that, having no idea how he would be wise to react. But you couldn't stand it for a long time and you burst out laughing, clarifying between laughs that you were only joking.

“Well, even so, it is likely that at some point in your life you could be in such a relationship, there are even those who think that it is healthy and mature when both people agree”

“It's not quite my style. I prefer safe monogamy or if the guy is very stupid, the sex without commitment for a single night” you laughed slightly.

The deadline for the visit had already expired and with all the sadness you had to say goodbye to him, promising that you would return as soon as he came out of intensive care.

“You've done a lot for me, but it's okay if at some point you're too busy to come, okay? I will understand"

"Don't talk nonsense" you exclaimed firmly, while you leaned down enough to give him a hug without hurting him. Suddenly a new concern invaded you and you felt that you had to ask him a question that you had omitted: "Unless you have a psycho girlfriend who is after my head, do you?"

"Do you think if that was the case, I wouldn't have mentioned it already?" he muttered obviously and now it was your turn to smile.

You didn't want a nurse to come in to get you out of there by force so you took your things and looked at your ex-boyfriend one last time to wave goodbye.

You always thought that when a relationship ended it was because either party had made a serious mistake: “I slept with your best friend”, “my family secretly hates you”, or “it turns out I'm still too in love with my ex to love you”. But when you decided to break up with Spencer, you found that that formula didn't apply to everyone.

Perhaps it was an unfortunate combination of situations, feelings, and problems that led to things simply stopping working overnight. You didn't know how to explain it, none of you, but you guys couldn't even kiss the same way you used to. Your work exhausted you, his work exhausted him, and in the end it was you who decided for both of us that things would be better if everyone took their own path. This isn’t to say that the breakup was less painful, it was just that the hope of being able to have a friendship after it made the grief more bearable. But none of you was able to forget what had happened to pretend to be friends and so, little by little, you stopped seeing each other. Over a year passed with neither of you discussing the silent breakup and, though you and he couldn't have known it, even your respective group of friends suffered a little from the pain of parting from a couple they'd swear would walk down the aisle.

That was why a part of you was guiltily glad that you could see him again and that things weren't at all awkward, like you always imagined they would be. It was your same Spencer, just a little teasing and with less hair, but other than that he had barely changed. He still had those kind eyes that once saw you as if you were the most beautiful person on earth.

You took advantage of the way home in your car to think about everything that was happening to you and for a moment you wondered if with Spencer's recovery all relationship with you would end up withering like a flower with the arrival of autumn or would be reborn as they do in spring. 

"I don't even know why we're playing, we both know you're always going to win" you complained, throwing your pathetic poker hand onto the bed sheet, as he laughed.

The hospital called you when Spencer was admitted to the general ward and you had stayed with him ever since. There was a television in the room, but you knew that he was not a big fan of technological entertainment, so before coming back you decided to take as many things as you needed so that you could kill time; a few books, a deck of cards, a book full of word scrambles and crossword puzzles you'd picked up at a newsstand on the way, and even a blank notebook that could do multiple jobs.

He would stay there for about a week (the doctor explained that it all depended on how fast he healed) and that morning you had gone to talk to your boss at the office to ask her for a couple of days so you could stay with him. You still had a week of vacation available and although he felt extremely guilty you insisted on staying there, after all no one from the BAU could leave their post for that long. In addition, urgent or essential things could be done from home and it was enough to connect for a couple of hours from your laptop to solve them.

Spencer hadn't told you, but he felt comfortable having company during his stay there. Hospitals weren’t his favorite places and having such a familiar presence comforted him.

"I'll let you win once if it makes you feel better"

"If you wanted me to feel better you should have done it without telling me, now I know you were just being silly" you huffed, shuffling the cards with both hands.

"It's all about math, it's really not that complicated"

“Why have you never thought about betting big in casinos? You're from Vegas, you must know a lot. And you could become a millionaire with it."

“It is illegal, in fact, and I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Pahrump because of my card-counting ability. So sorry to disappoint you, but those plans wouldn't work."

“A wasted talent. What a pity” you sighed, starting to hand out a new game.

While you were doing that, a nurse came into the room carrying a tray with food and your friend's eyes sparkled, because being fed intravenously for a day and a half hadn’t been very to his liking. When he put it down in front of you, you noticed that everything looked appetizing considering it was hospital food, and after thanking the man he took the dessert and spread it in your direction.

“You don't like Jell-o anymore?

"Yeah, but I know it's your favorite," he added, shrugging and starting to eat the main course voraciously.

"I'm not going to take advantage of a sick person"

“You aren’t taking advantage. I'm giving it to you" with a smile you put the dessert on the nightstand, ready to return it to him if he wanted it later, and as seeing him eat your own hunger woke you up, you told him you'd go out for a moment to look for something.

You were surprised that across the corridor, at the reception, there was a group of people that you recognized immediately. Morgan was the first to notice you and had to turn twice to make sure his brain wasn't playing tricks on him. Then he motioned to Garcia, who was holding a bouquet of flowers and a balloon, and she waved her hand in your direction with a huge smile.

“Are you really who I think you are?” he asked, once they approached you.

"It seems so" you laughed, under the watchful and surprised gaze of almost everyone present.

The team greeted you with hugs, seeming genuinely happy to see you around and asking about the status of your mutual friend. You related all the medical details of the accident, the care they had taken and in the same way you told them that you had been there throughout the entire process.

"And how is he now?"

“He is fine, just a little sore. But the worst is over, the doctor says he will recover soon”

"It's a relief that everything was quick, I don't even want to think about what would have happened if the doctors didn't arrive on time"

"Do you think we can stop by to see him?"

"He'll be delighted, I assure you" you answered happily "He's in room 501, I'll come back to you as soon as I find something to eat"

Everyone thanked you and set out to find the room, except for Aaron who stayed in the hallway so he could talk to you.

"How has everything been?"

"Okay, as far as that goes," you smiled, arms crossed over your chest, "How's Jack?"

"Growing up" was all he said and you didn't need more to know what he meant "I just wanted to tell you that the plan is to stay here for a few hours, in case you want to come home and rest"

Although you didn't often see him, Hotch had always been particularly nice to you when you were the boy's girlfriend, and he had also tried to cheer the man up when he found out about the breakup: he was especially fond of both you and him.

“Oh, thank you very much for that, Aaron. I was going to go get something to eat, but I don't have much of an appetite for fast or canned food, so I could probably eat at home and come back."

"Do what you have to do. We'll be here,” he assured you.

"You're not going to ask Spencer to go back to work, are you?"

"I won't ask him, I'll be lucky if I convince him not to do it" you giggled to see that Spencer was still the same stubborn person as always, and you thought about whether it would be correct to ask your ex-boyfriend's boss a personal question. You had always seen someone strong in him, of course, but he also had a gentle and understanding part.

"He told me that he's been fine, but… has he really been?"

You wanted to hear from someone else how he had been, because you knew that it was likely that the chestnut omitted the bad parts of the story just to not worry you.

"I don't know what can be considered ‘fine' in Reid's life. He has kept up his spirits and as far as I know his mother is doing well. He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke, and even though I've insisted on it, he refuses to see a therapist, but I guess he finds another way to deal with the problems. There have been bad days, but he always gets over it” you felt calm when you heard that and you nodded with a smile.

“He is always like that. It makes me happy that he has you"

"Sometimes he's not that happy" he sighed, probably with some important background for those words "But in the end it's like in all families, right?"

"I think so" you smiled bitterly. He was watching you carefully, trying to read your micro-expressions as much as possible. After all he was a profiler, that was his job. "Then I'll go home quickly and come back as soon as possible, okay?"

“Good luck, drive carefully”

"It was nice to see you again, Hotch."

Spencer hardly even noticed your absence with the bustle of his friends in the room and when you came back you were even wearing other clothes. During their visit you were just a listener to the funny stories everyone seemed to have and from time to time you answered a few polite questions from others.

You talked to them about your plans to stay there daily and you agreed that they would take turns helping you for a couple of hours each, when possible, so you would get some rest as well. Also, most volunteered to replace the amount of blood he had needed in surgery. All the attention had the man a bit dizzy, but still he felt lucky for the people around him.

The days went by and sometimes you smuggled in a snack that wouldn't harm your friend's health so he could eat during the afternoon. You had convinced him to see one or another movie, you had brought some yarn and needles for you to resume knitting lessons that had been forgotten for many years, and in general you could say that you had a good time with him. Chats with Spencer always felt natural so topics of conversation weren't a problem either, as he would be able to recite facts to you from memory as long as you guys didn't get bored.

The doctors came in frequently to check that everything was in order and every time you heard positive responses about the recovery process you felt calm.

You'd come home at night because Spencer insisted on it, but the next morning you'd leave your apartment as early as possible and spend the rest of the day there.

Although you didn't want to admit it, you were more and more convinced that those days by his side became the spark of happiness that your life needed. All the time was only yours and served to recover some of the lost things.

“Do you want me to read aloud to you?” he offered an afternoon and you put aside your occupations to accept the offer. You had gotten him a copy of The Narrative of John Smith by Arthur Conan Doyle because you knew he loved that book and that was the one selected for the activity.

Contrary to what many people thought, he was a great speaker and the sound of his voice brought to the surface memories that you thought were lost.

"What are you reading?" you had asked that night, after brushing your teeth and putting on your pajamas. Spencer spent at least 10 minutes reading before going to sleep, enough for him to devour an entire book, or at least a large part of it.

You assumed that his current reading would be something related to a case, but you were surprised to hear the answer.

"Alice in Wonderland"

"Why are you reading Alice in Wonderland?" you asked helpfully, as you slid under the covers into the space next to him and peered over the side.

“My mom used to read it to me when I was a kid and I wanted to reread it. It's a nice story"

"I have never read it. I just watched the movie"

"You are committing a sin. The cinema will never do justice to the original stories.”

"And why don't you read to me a bit?" you asked nicely, followed by a short kiss on the lips "I like listening to you and maybe you will help me fall asleep"

You carefully slipped in until you were comfortably recharged on his chest and when you were ready he complied with your request, beginning with the story he knew by heart.

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it…

It became a habit and sometimes you guys wouldn't even finish the books because you always picked another one that seemed interesting, even if it was in a different language because you knew Spencer would translate it for you. It was those kinds of actions that allowed him to feel useful around you and thus show you how much he loved you. 

You had already read that book once, as you were also an enthusiastic Doyle fan, so he felt free to choose one of his favorite chapters. You didn't lie down as comfortably as you used to, but you still enjoyed reading, with a big smile to return to that habit of yours that you loved so much.

In the midst of everything you reflected that, perhaps, the love between you was something that had not completely disappeared, but rather a latent feeling that had now found an opportunity to appear.

Loving meant many things and if you didn't love it then you wouldn't be there at that moment, but somehow repeating an exclusive activity from your time as a couple made you miss that greatly. Spencer hadn't read to anyone else because he knew that was just yours.

This time you didn't fall asleep when he finished the chapter, but you kept looking at him the whole time, afraid that it was just a ghost in your memory that would evaporate in your hands as soon as you dared to touch him.

Luckily he was very real and inside that small hospital room, you could travel to the past as many times as you wanted without being disturbed. And for now, that was enough for you two.

A whole week passed and everything seemed to be going great. That day Spencer had convinced you to watch a Korean movie he had on DVD and you were about to leave when he cleared his throat to get your attention.

"Before you go, do you think you could do me a favor?" he asked. He could move a little better now and right now his feet dangled to the side of the stretcher, from where he watched you slightly nervous. You didn’t imagine what this behavior was due to.

"Whatever, what do you need?"

"I didn't ask before because... I'm a little embarrassed, to be honest," Spencer wasn't watching you speak and your brow furrowed in obvious confusion at that "But... I asked the nurse if I could take a shower now and she said yes, but I need someone to help me"

Your mouth opened with a soft oh and then you understood why he seemed so shy about the request.

“You don't have to do it if you don't want to” he added “I know it can be awkward, I just don't know who else to ask and you know it bothers me so much being so dirty. I hadn't tried it before because it literally hurt to breathe, but now that I feel better I think I really need it and I would really appreciate it if you… you know."

"It’s okay, Spencer," you replied, taking a few steps toward him, "There's nothing in there that I haven't already seen.”

“I will wear underwear, I don't have to be completely naked. You would just have to help me wash… some parts”

“Then why are you making this fuss? Let's give you that shower!" you laughed, sitting down next to him so he put his arm around your shoulders and you could help him up.

He was still having a bit of trouble from the leg injury, but the bathroom wasn't that far away and you managed to guide him there. The shower was surrounded by a plastic curtain, with a proper chair for patients and a hose with a shower head at the end. You helped Spencer into the chair and while you recovered from the effort you took a look around; there were some toiletries on a shelf that would surely do for him, and a white towel as well.

“Morgan brought me some new clothes and the nurse said we could ask the store manager for a gown,” he muttered, before you started doing anything. You took off your shoes and left them nestled to one side, always feeling his gaze following you.

When you noticed that he didn't take his eyes off you and was just there, sitting, you spoke:

“Should I help you take off your gown or do you take it off yourself?” there was amusement in your words and Spencer, as if taken from a trance, hastened to find the knot of the garment for himself. He was already wearing his underpants below and it only took him to get rid of the material so that he was half naked.

You hadn't seen his wounds until that moment and you couldn't help but wrinkle your face imagining the pain he must have felt. His stitches were still there but they were already healing and he would have at least four scars, plus one twice the size on the leg opposite where he had taken a bullet; that added up to five marks adorning his body. He was never an athletic person, but since he wasn't a very keen eater either he was able to keep himself in shape. Personally, you had always been attracted to him in every possible way, so his physique was never something that bothered you: thin, muscular, with some paunch, you were going to like him no matter how he was.

“Are you going to help me or are you just going to stare at me?” he countered, looking down at you with that expression you knew was the boldest thing he could get, and you snorted a laugh.

"Shut up"

You stretched to reach the shower head to warm the water, not wanting him to catch a cold and knowing that a warm shower would make him feel better because it would relax his muscles. Once it was at the right temperature, you wet his hair a bit and took shampoo in your hands to wash his head. He gave a barely audible moan as you began to massage his scalp and closed his eyes so he could enjoy your touch. Once you were done there you took a sponge and started cleaning his shoulders, torso, and back, trying to be as careful as possible. Sometimes you even let your fingers slip through the side of the sponge to touch his slightly tanned skin, as smooth as it had always been, while you gazed at those moles you'd kissed so many times. The first time you had sex with him, as you watched him in the twilight after the act, you had tried to study every part you could, from the little freckles on his back to the birthmark on his leg, and right now you felt like crying to see those little things about him again.

You were enjoying treating him like this so much and not to mention Spencer, who felt like he was in heaven to feel you so close to him. He could smell your perfume, a little worn, but still present after the whole day and from time to time he dared to look up to meet your face. And every time he looked at you, he remembered why he thought you were the most beautiful woman of all.

"You didn't have to give me the whole shower, you know?" he joked at some point, when you lovingly washed his hands “I just wanted you to help me with the parts I couldn't reach. But honestly, I'm not complaining about this."

Of course the two of you had ever taken a shower together, but it had never been anything like this. They were always things to optimize time, like when you were short of time to go to work or too tired to shower separately. This act was something different, something more private and delicate; it was too domestic. You were taking care of him and at the same time enjoying seeing him in such a docile position, peeking at you from time to time.

"I'm just doing an old friend a favor" you answered with a smile, although when you heard the words out loud it immediately faded.

An old friend. Was that what you were now? 

The place was silent for a moment, with only the sound of water dripping on the white tile floor.

"Did you ever miss me?"

His question had taken you by surprise and you remained silent before answering, trying to figure out what relation the question had to the situation. From the way he'd said it, you almost thought it was one of those things that burned in his chest and he'd needed to exhale.

"Yes, sometimes" you finally answered. He seemed satisfied with the answer "And you?"

"Many times," he laughed, a bit of guilt tinging his words.

A part of you wondered what he was trying to tell you with that: was it a confession… or a declaration? Ending the relationship had been imminent, and if you hadn’t done it that day you could have done it months or even weeks later, however, you weren’t going to lie in saying that you weren’t tormented by the thought of what would have happened if you had tried just a little longer. And that was accompanied, of course, by a tremendous feeling of nostalgia. You wanted to correct your answer and tell him that you had actually missed him terribly, all along, but you couldn't bring yourself to. And he, who couldn't read your mind, thought that he had simply bothered you with an out-of-place comment. 

"You can rinse off while I get a new gown, what do you say?"

Spencer nodded at the idea and then you walked out of there, your cheeks feeling strangely hot. What was happening to you? Did you still have feelings for him?

Maybe the real question was, have you ever stopped feeling something for him? 

It didn't take you long to get what you needed and you came back to find it wrapped in the towel. After he got dressed, you maneuvered in the same way to help him out, although now with the added problem of the slippery floor, and before long he was lying back on the bed.

"I feel much better now" he smiled at you. From the bedroom window you could see the night sky and then you realized how long it took you to shower.

"Do you want me to do something else?"

Your curt response wasn't because he deserved it, but because you were too confused to stay there any longer.

“No, everything's fine. Thank you very much for this”

"You're welcome" you smiled.

"Well... I guess you'll want to go now”

You still knew Spencer too well to know that that slight frown between his brows was a sure sign of concern, and you felt bad for speaking to him in the way you had. To atone a bit for your guilt, you approached him and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against his body in a hug.

His body still felt warm and comfortable and just as if it had been made to fit yours. His arms held you firmly when he was finally able to react and you felt his chest deflate a little, as if he wanted to give you more space to feel close.

Time passed so slowly that you didn't even know how long you stayed in that position, just enjoying the closeness and his gentle hands rubbing your back.

"I like how you smell" you exclaimed in a low voice, fearing to break the tranquility of the moment and you felt his chest vibrate with a laugh.

“Did you know that your sense of smell is directly linked to the attraction you feel for a person? Your nose captures the pheromones that the opposite body secretes and if it considers it a good candidate to mate then it is pleasant”

"I think it's just the shampoo," you laughed. You turned your head up a bit and Spencer, by inertia, turned down to meet your gaze. "Although I wouldn't need to sniff you to know if I wanted to mate with you”

The joke had been so natural that you didn't measure the weight of the words until they left your mouth, and the worst thing was that the position you were in hadn’t been the most appropriate. You could feel his breath mixing with yours and it was enough to get a little closer to melt your lips in a kiss.

You had put yourself in that situation, as if your body was unconsciously looking for his own, and Spencer hadn't refused at any time. Just like how no one had forced you to stay with him all this time and you still had.

Your boss had been too permissive with the situation during that time, but you were sure that she would no longer be so if more time passed, so you would have to return to the office the next morning. And Spencer had at most two more days before the doctor released him.

And what difference did it make if you kissed him at that moment? Would you ever get a chance to do that again? You didn't have to think about it too much, because he was the one who started closing the distance; an inch, then another, until you felt your lips brush against each other. And he would have kissed you if it hadn't been for the unwelcome ringing of a cell phone that made you jump away.

"It's... yours" you stammered, handing him the old artifact that announced Penélope García's contact calling him.

While he was having a conversation, you didn't even look at him, but started packing your things spread out around the room so you could get out of there as quickly as possible. You could tell by the rush in the man's words that he could read your intentions and wished he could talk to you before you left.

"Everything's good. Thanks for calling, Garcia. Yeah, I love you too. Bye”

"Look the hour! I have to go, I'll go back to work tomorrow and I want to have everything in order" you said as soon as he hung up the call, waving your hands in the air as you spoke as a sign of your nervousness "I'll try to come back tomorrow, but... I don't know if work let me"

“Okay, you've already done too much. I'm fine now,” he assured you, giving a thumbs up with a tight-lipped smile. Even though you wanted to say something the words didn't come out of your mouth, so you just raised your hand to say goodbye and then you rushed out of there.

All the way home your mind was busy processing the feelings that almost kiss had evoked in you and, to be honest, they all ended in the same thing: the wish that he had cut the distance completely. That desire followed you when you showered, when you went to sleep, when you woke up, and all through the workday the next day. Minute after minute your mind could only think about him and what would have happened if you hadn't been interrupted by that call.

As you had feared, you didn’t have time to visit him at night and since you didn’t find the courage to call him personally, you only asked the hospital to pass on the message. You intended to see him a day after that, figuring that the matter would have been forgotten, but your plans were thwarted when Spencer called you to say that they had just authorized his medical discharge. He sounded calm and, of course, happy, when he told you that an ambulance was going to take him to his apartment.

"That's wonderful" you answered honestly. You were sitting at your work desk sorting out some documents, so you held your phone between your ear and your shoulder.

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did. For all. I… I don't know what he would have done without you here. And you didn't have to, but you still did it. So, thanks"

"I already told you before, you don't have to thank me for anything"

"But I'd still like to," he murmured firmly, "Would you let me buy you dinner sometime?"

You were silent for a second, honestly confused by what he was asking. I mean, you knew what he was inviting you to, but you didn't know why. 

"Dinner?"

“Well, it's the least I can do for you. I have to use crutches for a while again, so we couldn't go out to a fancy restaurant or anything. It would just be us in my apartment, do you still like Italian food? Rossi taught me a great recipe and I think I cook decent enough.”

“Ah… yes, I would love to” you stammered. You thought that after his recovery you would not speak again and things would return to how they were before; but apparently Spencer had other plans.

"How about Saturday?"

“Sounds perfect to me” you breathed out, still a bit surprised and quite nervous about the proposal you just received. Even if it was merely friendly, you were happy to know that he still wanted your company.

Perhaps you had been too hard on him and on yourself by not allowing things to just follow their natural flow, holding onto the misconception that you and Spencer Reid no longer had romantic feelings for each other.

"I'll meet you here then, do you still remember how to get there?"

“If you have the same address, then I still do it”

"Good. I was just calling to ask you that. I guess you're busy working."

"Only a little"

"Well, I'll let you do it. Thanks for accepting"

"Thank you for inviting me"

You guys were silent for a moment and you wondered if Spencer was smiling the same way you were.

"Bye," he said kindly and after saying goodbye you hung up.

You were left smiling like a fool at the idea that your first date in a long time would be with the only man who years ago had been capable of stealing your heart and after taking a few minutes to process it you went back to your work, but not before pointing with circle the date on your calendar, like a teenager in love.

When the day finally came you made sure to look for a nice outfit before your dinner with him, holding yourself back from looking too excited. You rarely wore dresses but, if your memory serves you, he really liked how you looked in them, so you made sure to look for one that would accentuate your figure and make you look more youthful. You carefully combed your hair, put on just a little makeup, and came on your way to buy a bottle of wine. You still remembered the information that he had told you about which wines were best suited for each meal and although you still didn’t know about dinner, you brought a bottle that it presumed to be Italian.

When you reached number 23 on the second floor, you knocked on the door and after hearing a couple of noises, he finally appeared in front of you.

"Hey!" he greeted you happily. He was using his old crutches, had shaved off the facial hair that had appeared during his hospital stay, and was wearing a black apron with white lettering, which Garcia had surely given him, and which read: Kiss the cook. Please I'm very lonely “Come in, come in” 

"How are you?" you asked, stepping into the apartment and greeting him with a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I’m okay, dinner is almost ready. I had technical complications because I didn't consider that cooking with crutches is more difficult than doing it without them, so I just hope it tastes good" he complained, moving deftly through the apartment to the kitchen "Sit down, I'll join you in a moment"

When he got lost in the kitchen you took the opportunity to take a look at the place. He kept having piles of books both on the shelves and stacked on the floor, on his desk, next to the chair. There were a couple of new artworks on the green wall along with the ones you'd helped him choose in the past, and picture frames everywhere: him with his mom, several with his co-workers (old and new). and you were surprised to see that even you had a space. The frame was smaller than the others, maybe to make it more discreet, but it was carefully arranged on the shelf that, by chance, or perhaps not, contained many of the books that you had given him.

"Do you need help with something?" you half screamed, hearing the crash of some pots and he denied in the same way. The air smelled delicious and your stomach rumbled with anticipation. After a few minutes Spencer was with you, both sitting in the brown leather chair where you had spent so many afternoons together.

“You just have to wait for it to cool down a bit and we can have dinner”

"I brought a wine" you murmured as you handed him the bottle. He examined it and congratulated you on your choice, telling you that it would go perfectly with the pasta he had prepared. "Are you still taking any medication?"

"Not anymore. The doctor prescribed me some things for the pain, but… I'm not taking them” he said, with a guilty smile on his face “I like your dress, by the way”

Hearing this, a satisfied smile spread across your face and you modestly thanked him for the compliment.

As he said, dinner was ready in a few minutes and you accompanied him to the dining room to serve a couple of dishes. Spencer seemed to have put an effort into everything, as he looked really exquisite and you didn't hesitate to compliment him on it even before trying it on. Dinner remained pleasant, with a couple of laughs, jokes and a flirtatious look that sometimes you weren't even aware of. Now that he had gotten rid of the apron, you could see that he was wearing a purple button-down shirt that you had always liked on him, because it fit in all the right places to make him look gorgeous. Besides, that color had always favored him.

Once you were finished, you offered him a drink of wine and he agreed, listing the digestive benefits the drink had for you. He asked if you wanted to go into the living room to be more comfortable and then both of you walked to the rickety chair, taking the bottle with you. Within a very short time the liquid in it was almost completely finished and both he and you became gigglier.

Unfortunately for you, with the laughter that came, your self-control also left. Every time he spoke you couldn't help but let your gaze slide to his lips, a little to be able to correctly understand the words that came out of it and another little just to be able to appreciate the pink color they had; they still looked soft, and you wondered if they would feel soft. 

You didn't know Spencer was aware of the struggle you had inside of you, as he kept talking, laughing, and just looking so handsome while you fell apart. After a couple of minutes, you couldn't resist it anymore. Your body was vibrating with the desire to have him, maybe because of the alcohol in your blood or maybe because he looked strangely attractive when he rambled on about his PhD research.

“Spencer” you stopped him suddenly. He looked at you with a hint of concern for having overwhelmed or bored you with his talk about him and you thought he couldn't look cuter that way.

"What's wrong?" he started to say, but the question was drowned out by your lips trapping his.

You kissed him fast but deep and all the weight of guilt fell on your shoulders when you looked at his reaction; he kept not looking at any specific point and breathing heavily through his mouth, totally petrified by what you just did.

"Sorry, I don't know why I did that" you stammered. You regretted it just because you made him uncomfortable, not because you didn't want to kiss him “I messed it up, didn't I? Are you mad at me?" you wanted to know, panicked, but now it was your words that were cut off by a kiss.

He wasted no time and taking advantage of your shock one of his hands came up to hold your cheek, while he leaned more in your direction. His lips tasted of wine and nostalgia, they tasted of an overflowing love that you had finally agreed to continue feeling for each other.

He kissed you so hungrily that he was making you completely dizzy and you only separated when it was absolutely necessary to breathe, repeating kiss after kiss. He lowered his other hand to your waist to try to get you closer and you, reflexively, climbed onto his lap. It was then that you guys really looked at each other; wet lips, messy hair, hot pink painted cheeks and completely agitated breathing.

"Uh, I..."

"It was too much?" you said fearful. His hands had automatically gone up to your waist, since that position was already quite familiar to him, and yours were on his shoulders.

"No, no. I mean… only if this is okay with you”

You could have told him you were sorry, but that would be a lie. You loved being so close to him, you loved that you finally had your courage, and you loved that he cared about what you wanted. And you were going to tell him, that's for sure.

"I am telling you the truth?" you gasped, carefully holding his face to force him to look you straight in the eye. They were the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen: "Right now all I can think about is how much I need you"

No more words were needed for what happened next. You melted into a kiss again and when you pressed your hip against his, he sighed against your mouth, feeling his crotch suffer the consequences of the heated kisses you were giving him. For a moment he wanted to feel sorry, but he knew better than anyone that you already knew perfectly every inch of his body and from the smile he felt on his lips he suspected that you were enjoying the heat in that area more than you should. It was satisfying to see that you still had that kind of power over him, where you barely touched him and he was already a mess. But you couldn't speak more highly of yourself, because when his hands went to your hips you felt like putty between his fingers.

"You want to…?" he started to say, but your insistence on kissing him barely left him thinking "Do you want us to go to my room?"

Spencer was afraid he was going too fast and scaring you with it, but he couldn't find another way to interpret the result of what you were doing. He just wanted you to be as comfortable as possible.

"Yeah, I think so" you answered in a whisper.

You got up from your seat and took his hand intending to help him up, until the crutches next to the sofa reminded you of the man's physical condition. Spencer looked at the hesitation in your eyes, but he didn't give you time to back down, because in one quick movement he was on his feet and crossing to the door that led to his room, ignoring any kind of pain he might feel.

Once there, he sat on the bed and pulled you towards him to continue kissing you. None of you bothered to turn on the light to continue what you were doing. You thought the position might strain him so you gently and carefully pushed him back to lay him flat on the bed. This allowed him to better knead the soft meat on your thighs and you rewarded him with enthusiastic kisses on his neck.

You separated a little until you were sitting on his hip and then you undid the buttons of his shirt. You made sure to gently kiss the wounds he had made and Spencer just sighed with each touch of your lips. A little needy to kiss you, he also stretched out his hands to your dress, asking with his eyes for your consent to lower the zipper and get rid of it.

The dress was left tossed somewhere in the room and you leaned in just enough for him to smear kisses down your shoulders and across your chest. You could tell that he was taking his time and that only increased your desire to have him, to feel him inside you and make you his as he had done so many times.

  “Y/N” he whispered against your mouth and you just hummed a nod “Darling, can you help me take off my pants?”

The nickname had come so naturally from his lips and had sounded so delicious that you had to suppress a groan. He called you that all the time, he was a very vocal man and it wasn't uncommon to hear him say those kinds of things. Both in bed and out of it. 

You did exactly what he asked and you took the opportunity to slowly pass your hand over the bulge in his crotch, hearing him let out the first moan of the night.

“Hey, do you have a… uh, some protection?” you asked timidly. You loved him and trusted him, but a baby wasn’t what you needed; at least not at that time.

"In the usual drawer"

As if no time had passed, you rummaged with your hand in the left side of the second drawer in the nightstand, until you found what you were looking for. Sudden and unwarranted jealousy swept over you as you wondered if he had invited other women��to spend the night and if those others could find things as naturally as you had. No one knew Spencer as you did, you were sure of it, because he wasn't a man who opened up easily to others. And no matter how many people had passed through your life, no one would understand you as much as he did. 

Once you put the condom on, you took the opportunity to pump it up and down with your hand and the man's whining made you realize that he had really missed you. Both of you were trembling with anticipation, so with one movement you discarded your missing items and climbed back into his lap. Still a little fearful you looked at him and even in the middle of the darkness you realized the loving eyes on you.

“If it hurts just tell me and I'll stop. I know you're still delicate and I don't want to hurt you.”

"You would never hurt me" he answered and although you wanted to believe that they were limited to his injuries from the accident, you knew that it wasn’t so.

Those words carried more weight than you thought. They were a vote of confidence that he gave you over your entire person, not only his physical condition, but also his feelings and desires.

When you became one you groaned in unison and took a moment to get used to each other again. Your movements became soft, constant, and deep and he, unable to do more, just enjoyed that feeling.

After a few minutes, things went beyond the physical plane you were on; you realized that no one, ever, could make you feel what he did. You felt complete, whole and loved. You loved to hear everything that came out of his mouth and respond with an even more obscene sound. You loved that he knew the right points to touch and when to do it, you loved that he looked for your kisses in the middle of the act and you loved that being with him everything became so passionate and intimate. At that moment it was just him and you, no one else. As it always should have been.

After a while both bodies were already covered by a fine layer of sweat and your hands, small compared to his, leaned on his biceps to be able to move better against him.

"I missed this so much" you confessed, your voice muffled by uncontrollable moans "I missed you so much, you don't know how much I did"

He wanted to answer you, but the truth was that for the first time he had run out of words. He could only feel your body pressed against his and your boobs bouncing with each thrust.

There were certain gestures, movements, and sounds that told Spencer when you were about to arrive, so when he heard your erratic breathing and sensed your hesitation, he placed both hands on your hips to help you keep up.

At some point you felt the knot in your belly forming and you just let yourself be guided by it, anxious to feel the ecstasy exploding in you. It was enough to feel your walls pressing against him, your loud moans and a couple more pushes for Spencer to reach his own orgasm, wishing that the hot liquid had filled you instead of the barrier that protected you.

Your body fell against his, completely surrendered, and you felt his chest rise and fall as you tried to catch your breath. One of his arms, still clad in his shirt, slid around your waist and his lips groped for your forehead to place a small kiss. You were exhausted, but at the same time overflowing with joy, and he shed a single tear. Maybe because he had had a good orgasm in a long time or maybe because of the overwhelming reality that you had just made love to him.

For a few minutes you stayed like that, so peaceful and calm that you feared falling asleep in his arms.

“Y/N” he whispered, your name slipping from his lips so softly you thought you misheard.

"Yeah?" you inquired in a whisper. You two had always liked to talk for a bit after the sex rush wore off, as a way to keep things romantic.

"Risking to ruin the moment, can I ask you something?" he murmured and you rearranged yourself to face him to watch him. He looked so handsome, with dilated pupils and a flushed face, that you thought you might take him again right then.

"Whatever you want," you replied, gently brushing back the hair that had stuck to his sweaty face. You were drunk with love, he could have asked you to lower the moon and you would have done it without hesitation.

"What did this mean to you?" he added cautiously. You knew better than anyone that Spencer needed a certain security in things as well as people. The question would come eventually, though you thought you would have more time to think of an answer that would suffice. “It's okay if you say you just felt like doing it or that it was something that happened in the moment, I understand. I just... I don't want to get the wrong idea."

“And what would that wrong idea be?” you asked curiously. Suddenly he had become shy and just avoided your gaze without knowing how to respond to that, but you took him by the chin to force him to pay attention to you "Spence?"

“I don't want to have any illusions about you. If you don't see something in the future with me, that's fine, but at least I'd like to know."

They were not aggressive or demanding accusations; they were just sincere words with which he sought to protect his heart.

"I honestly don't know what's going to happen to us," you replied. A disappointed expression came over his face and you took him by surprise when you reached up a bit to kiss him again, but this time reassuringly and gently "But today I realized that you are perfect for me, in all the senses. And that I can never love someone like I love you. Does that answer your question?"

“I guess I feel the same way” he replied, but this time he was smiling slightly “And I know that we should have ended a long time ago, but… if your heart agrees, I think I'd like to start over. We were both in a bad situation back then, but now things could be different."

And of course they were going to be, because a part of you was convinced. You loved him, you had admitted it, and you knew he felt the same way about you. That was enough.

"I guess you're right. As always, Dr. Reid” you laughed, hearing his melodious laughter as well.

"For once, that makes me happy" he confessed and almost a second after that you heard him let out a weak moan that made you aware that you were pressing your chest against his still-fresh scars.

But to be honest, any previous signs of pain had been dwarfed by the pleasure of your body grinding against his.

"Maybe I should move" you apologized, but when you tried to, he didn't let you, instead tightening his grip on his arm against you.

"Don't do it” he begged you "Stay here just a little while longer"

For him, you could stay your whole life if he asked you to. Now you were sure of that. He was sure of that.

And now that you two had it back, you weren't going to let it go.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Do Time Lords deal with depression? If yes, how?

Do Time Lords deal with depression? If yes, how?

Short answer: Yes, because they have brains, and brains are complicated. But how they deal with it is a little trickier to unpack—both biologically and culturally, and we've got to ask a few basic questions first:

❓ Why Isn't It Highlighted on Gallifrey?

Gallifrey's culture emphasises intellect, tradition, and practicality, which means emotional and mental health don't really get the attention they deserve. Depression and similar conditions are likely under-recognised or even stigmatised. That said, Gallifreyans are a highly advanced species, so some potential fascinating coping methods may exist:

💡 Possible Gallifreyan Approaches to Depression

🧠 Self-Neural Rewiring: Gallifreyans can reroute their own neural pathways. This means a Time Lord feeling overwhelmed could, in theory, redirect those negative thought patterns or reconfigure the parts of their brain responsible for mood regulation. Like cognitive behavioural therapy but with a manual override.

🍌 Food: Gallifreyans are sensitive to food chemicals. They might instinctively crave foods that contain positive amino acids like tyrosine, which boost neurotransmitters like dopamine and serotonin. Some example foods include poultry, seeds, and bananas.

🌟 Psionic Emotional Support: In theory, Gallifreyans could 'latch onto' the emotions of others, borrowing a bit of happiness or comfort through telepathic connections. This could explain why some Time Lords surround themselves with humans.

🚀 Support from Their TARDIS: A symbiotically-linked TARDIS provides emotional stability. As sentient beings, TARDISes intuitively understand their pilot's mental state. They might offer subtle psionic nudges or provide a calming atmosphere through environmental adjustments.

💊 Specialised Medications (or Not): Gallifreyans might have their own medications for mood disorders, though it's more likely they rely on their natural neural and psionic capabilities instead. Human antidepressants would probably be ineffective��or potentially dangerous—due to Gallifreyan biology. (For a detailed breakdown, see our earlier post: Can Gallifreyans Take Human Antidepressants? in the related section below).

🔍 What's the Real Answer?

As much as we love theorising, the truth is that depression probably isn't openly discussed on Gallifrey. It's a society that prioritises logic over emotions, which may leave those struggling to cope feeling isolated. That said, Gallifreyans are incredibly resilient beings.

🏫 So ...

While Gallifrey may not have an obviously established cultural framework for mental health care, Gallifreyans still potentially have unique ways to manage their emotional well-being. They might find solace in their TARDIS for long periods, by surrounding themselves with bright-eyed, adventurous companions, or maybe by consuming bananas … Hold on a moment—why does this sound oddly familiar? 🤔

Related:

💬|🥗💊Can Gallifreyans take human antidepressants?: Exploring the effect of antidepressants.

💬|♾️🧠Can Time Lords have bipolar disorder?: How bipolar disorder might manifest in Gallifreyans and coping mechanisms/treatments.

🤔|🥗😆Why is my Gallifreyan a little bit giggly today?

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[didthisformemes]

What are your thoughts on Amaimon's character? I think he's quite fascinating, and I sort of view him as both likeable and hateable and somewhat pitiable for what he's done and what's been done to him. He’s the second Demon King we were introduced to, and yet we still know quite little of him.

He's free-spirited, whimsy, and thinks highly of himself, so I can see why he doesn't like being made into a servant. Also, Amaimon canonically sees violence and bloodshed as fun, and him being made to stop this is something he definitely does not take well.

He's a Demon King, so it must be very insulting for someone as high-ranking as him to be bound to serve humans as a familiar. The terms of the deal are somewhat unequal I think, as well. Since it’s done in an alternate-dimension that limits him even further. While Shemihaza and her descendants are provided with Amaimon’s service, what is he provided with in exchange? I suppose his crystallization’s continued preservation is being used as leverage. 

It also seems Mephisto and Shemihaza worked together to preserve her descendants in the Garden of Amhara (it’s in an alternate-dimension preserved by Mephisto, the alternate-dimension!Amaimon is a copy made by Mephisto). Basically, Mephisto is facilitating the continuation of the deal.

I will say though, that the OG!Shemihaza's deal is definitely clever in the sense that she can utilize Amaimon even though she is no longer around. I think maybe he didn't like being subjugated (?) by Shemihaza, as he’s in a similar deal with Mephisto, it's a whole other deal to be made to serve her descendants. Amaimon probably didn’t read the “fine print”. 

Amaimon's kind of simple, but he understands strategy and emotion in a practical sense. He's not a manipulator or long-term planner to Mephisto's extent, but he's not COMPLETELY clueless to how humans react to things and emotional intelligence. He just doesn't care that much, and I think people underestimate him as he doesn't emote.

It's hard to BOTH not overestimate or underestimate Amaimon, honestly.

He figured out how Rin’s sword worked quite quickly after snatching it from him. He accurately explains to the Exwires what’s happening to Rin after the sword is broken.

He KNOWS that Shiemi is distraught after her mother's death, and that she cannot defeat him psychologically or physically in her condition and circumstance. He kidnapped Shiemi as a hostage during the Forest Exam because Rin and her are close, and that's a vulnerability to be manipulated. Even Amaimon's spiel to Shiemi during their fight shows a lot of intelligence. He figured out a loophole in the deal, and is now ditching because it makes sense.

Even Dog!Mephisto seems to not see an issue with the logic.

I think him coming to help out of his own volition will probably be better (he’ll probably have a shallow reason, like Beelzebub and BBQ). In MY perspective, he has changed little since the time of the deal. Still brash, getting indebted to and getting into trouble with those more powerful than him (Mephisto). I think whenever we see change in him, it's usually due to him being under duress. He adapts a little though, like I think he got more verbally passive aggressive as he can no longer hurt or kill anyone.

I love Amaimon as a character because of a lot of the reasons you said. He is both a complex and a simple person. He is really free-spirited and I think that's to make up for the deal with Shemihaza. To answer what he got out of the deal, I think that it's just that he now has an easier time getting/keeping bodies. Shemihaza crystallized some of his power and his rage(?) so he can now keep possessing a body for longer. This works out for Shemihaza because that means he is more likely to be around to help with her descendants.

Amaimon is also really smart and manipulative in combat. Yes he figured out how Rin's sword worked quickly and later on figured out that if he wanted Rin to fight him, then he needed to kidnap Shemi. He is able to find emotional weak points in his opponents and uses them. He just acts rashly sometimes because of his anger.

Amaimon is also strongly aware of where he stands in the hierarchy of the demon kings. We don't see him really interact with other demon kings except for Mephisto but in the flash backs where he still had his old decaying body, he was respectful to Lucifer.

I do think at some point Amaimon will come back to help out the exwires. My theory is that Shemi will somehow re-do the deal with him, giving him a little more freedom so he comes back willingly. Another theory has yo do with the demon king Rin timeskip. Mephisto said that demon kings are allowed to use the kin of other demons their allied with. Which is why before fighting Satan, Beelzebub and Amaimon told their kin to stop helping the Illuminati. We see in the timeskip a bunch of earth kin, so I think that if Amaimon doesn't go to Shemi, he does help Rin. This is only if that timeskip is what is actually going to happen.

I've loved Amaimon since he was first introduced, so im just happy he's still in the story a lot and is also important. Thanks for giving me a reason to talk more about him, lol.

[ladydeatharcheron]

“The HoW was rehab”

This is a common argument I see in our fandom when it comes to defending the inner circle’s actions towards Nesta in the beginning of acosf. And I am here to tell you that this argument is null and void, using the guidelines of a healthcare institution linked here.

1. The most important thing is to set a positive, supportive tone. Ensure that the individual is treated with love and respect and maintain a calm, level tone, even if they react unpredictably.

Here is the love, support, and respect the inner circle has given Nesta during her so called intervention:

“You look atrocious,” Amren said.

“Sit down,” Rhys snarled.

“Though I bet it’s hard to look good,” Amren went on, “when you’re out until the darkest hours of the night, drinking yourself stupid and fucking anything that comes your way.”

Rhys scented that fear. She knew it from the second one side of his mouth curled up in a cruel smile.”

“You,” Cassian said from the armchair to her left. “This bullshit behavior.”

The High Lord of the Night Court gestured to the sloping lawn beyond the windows. “We’ve got plenty of space out there for a brawl.”

2. Because many who live with mental illness feel trapped, it’s helpful to lay out a clearly defined plan with options for the individual to choose from.

Now here is the options that were given to Nesta:

“It’s not up for negotiation,” Amren said.

“Your apartment is being packed as we speak,” Amren said. “By the time you return, it will be empty. Your clothes are already being sent to the House, though I doubt they will be suitable for training at Windhaven.”

And this gem too:

Wow! I’m sure that the choice of being locked up with no way out (no, walking 10k steps is not an option for someone as malnourished as she), or being sentenced to die in the human lands didn’t make Nesta feel trapped AT ALL. Good job inner circle. Very touching.

3. However, someone living with a condition like depression or bipolar disorder is highly unlikely to react in the same way. A much smaller group of just one or two friends or family members will likely create an environment more conducive to success.

I fail to see the productivity in shoving Nesta in a room with a man she has repeatedly stated she wants nothing to do with, a woman she had a bad falling out with, and a High Lord that taunts her and abuses his authority to get her to do their bidding.

Here’s a Q&N because I can already hear some of you guys from miles away:

1. “Isn’t that giving Nesta a choice?”

No. An ultimatum is not a choice. Even Cassian admits that it is:

Cassian didn’t miss the look between Feyre and Rhys: the utter agony in his High Lady’s face at the ultimatum he knew was to be presented to Nesta…”

Here’s a definition of an ultimatum:

Ultimatum (noun): A coercive manipulation that utilizes the illusion of choice.

Hence, not an actual choice.

2. “Would you rather they had done nothing?”

No. Nesta needed help. A more constructive approach would’ve been an intervention with Feyre and Elain only. Her actual family. No insults, no jabs, no belittling. They could’ve laid out several options (did she want to train? perhaps dancing would’ve helped her more? maybe she would’ve preferred helping out in the library only?) and let her decide the one she saw fit. Locking her up is not an answer and I’m a strong believer that the most powerful High Lord and Lady of Prythian would’ve managed to make alcohol inaccessible to Nesta regardless of where she was.

To the people that consider it rehab after everything proves that it’s not, please note that the entire point was to get Nesta to stop drinking and sleeping around. Tell me, why is it that when she slept with Cassian, despite sex being her coping mechanism, no one batted an eyelash. That’s insinuating that the inner circle does not in fact care who Nesta sleeps with, as long as it’s under their control, no?

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[flicklikesstuff]

Hazbin Hotel Ep 8 Ramble and Theory

⚠️ SPOILERS!! ⚠️

Surprisingly, the show’s first season really got me hooked with its storyline and I can’t wait what’s in store for the upcoming season 2.

I’ve had my suspicions with Alastor since the pilot, and it just keeps growing with every episode. Even then, his real motivations are just hard to really see and it’s what makes his character intriguing. One moment, he’s lurking in the shadows like some sort of villain, and then the next, we see him maaaybe caring for his friends?? If he even considers them that. Idk 🤷

I’ve always thought that maybe he’s sticking around and playing nice to get Charlie’s guard down in the long run. Waiting for her to get desperate so he can strike a deal with her. So he could ask her for any favour in the future. And guess what? That’s what he exactly does in Ep 7.

And if I’m recalling correctly, Alastor helped Charlie with the war, but Charlie is yet to grant her own end of the deal. Alastor STILL is owed a favour from her.

(Where am I going with this theory and analysis? I’m getting there-)

At one point, maybe he did genuinely care for the hotel and the people in it. Regardless what his motives were. He even admits it’s a “surprising thrill” to watch them form connections. But the word choices he uses in this scene are just sooo…weird?

“Almost??” “Could get accustomed??”

It sounds like he admits feeling attached to the other characters but at the same time, doesn’t want to commit to it. Does he have far more nefarious intentions in mind for them and that’s why he’s so distant?

Alastor probably noticed this in the ending of Ep 8 too. His altruistic self almost got control of him. He almost risked his life to help his “friends.” And he didn’t like that one bit. Perhaps, he sees this trait as a weakness.

It really sounds like the verse“Great Alastor Altruist died” is equal to him stating that “there’s no more Mr. Nice Guy” from now on. He’s disconnecting and staying firm to whatever his highly vague motives are. And it’s highly likely that whatever’s holding him back from his full power is the deal he made itself. And he’s going to try anything to get out of it. Maybe that’s the reason why he approached Charlie in the first place.

And I’m going back to Charlie’s deal with him here. The only condition she has is that she won’t harm anyone for him. But knowing Alastor, he’s going to twist the words a bit there. Maybe he won’t harm them physically. But maybe in some other way. Indirectly. One that Charlie won’t see in the long run. Maybe he uses this one favour to help him break free of this deal or loosen it in some way.

And Charlie already has so much trust in him after the battle, she most likely won’t see it coming. It’s perfect.

(Not exactly sure how these soul contracts work buuut, she’s the princess right? Maybe she’s powerful enough to do smth about it? Maybe that’s why Alastor was so interested to gain her trust and potentially free himself?)

…….

But anyway! Onto the second part of my theory!

Alastor’s probably going to optimise his one chance of freedom through Charlie’s owed favour. But I have a feeling he’s not only going to use just Charlie.

Who else is at the hotel that the other main cast members trust? Who he could freely command under his control? To show up at his will? Answer his beck and call? Whose souls that Alastor owns?

I swear. It is NO ACCIDENT that these two were standing side by side. NEXT TO ALASTOR. In the ending. (Or maybe I’m overanalysing, but whatever. This is MY ramble)

When Alastor comes back from the “dead”, everyone was happy to see him. Especially Charlie. And surprisingly Vaggie? I guess she’s warming up to him. Idk if that’s good or not.

Everyone except Lucifer and Husk. Lucifer’s still bitter on the whole ‘dad’ thing. But I just really felt sooo bad for Husk here. 😂 My guy had maybe a few happy hours of what he thought was freedom. Then he sees this guy come back and he’s just: “Ahhhh… SHT-!”

Now I’m just saying, I don’t think Alastor can just casually go up to Charlie and just easily demand that favour. Especially now that Lucifer might be staying around(?) Also, Alastor sounds like someone who would strategically play the long run if it means benefits. Albeit, less truly altruistic than before since that approach almost costed him highly.

He’s maybe going to have to pull some strings to really make Charlie feel like she HAS to do him a favour. To better solidify his chances and so she’s less likely to be hesitant/reluctant/suspicious. After all, Alastor is only owed ONE FAVOUR. Maybe he’ll pull some strings to win over Lucifer’s own trust too so he won’t be stopping Charlie? (I’m not sure, these two are not in good terms.)

(Look me in the eyes and tell me this is the face of someone who’s definitely not going to use this hotel for his own personal gain. Things are going to start getting ugly with Alastor’s new approach. I’m also still like 80% sure these 3 characters are placed together for a reason. It CANNOT be a complete coincidence, right?)

Now I’m really curious how Husk and Niffty would react under this sudden new approach. The angst potential here is smelling strong. It’s obvious that they’re starting to get highly attached to the hotel and really consider the others as friends. Something Alastor didn’t allow himself to.

And it’s not like they have a voice in the matter either. No matter what Alastor tells them to do to secretly manipulate things around the place so he’ll appear like he’s “helping out more.”

Who knows really? What kind of errands he’ll force them to do? “Mr. Nice Guy” is really no longer an option here. That guy is dead. Adam killed him.

And all at the same time, Alastor wouldn’t be breaking Charlie’s condition. He’s not making her hurt anyone at all. Just helping a good old pal, who’s done so much for her, to maybe loosen the constraints his deal has. Or whatever else he wants, I don’t fcking know-

(But Srsly though. The angst??? Niffty and Alastor are fond with each other, but Niffty is also starting to like her new friends too. Will that create some sort of rift? Niffty actually being hesitant??

And don’t even get me STARTED on Huskerdust. Like wtf-? Husk has already stepped out of line before and it left him completely shaken. What else could he do? And a heartbroken Angel finding out he’s behind all this when Husk is the first person to truly reach out to him? Husk not being able to meet his gaze out of guilt?? THE FCK-???)

Yeaaaahhh, can’t wait what Season 2 has for us all….

Remember fellas, this is just a theory. A Hazbin theory! :))

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Something Only We Know

Felix Catton x Reader

A/N: BLURB for “soulmate.” which is gonna be a long-ass fic

Warnings: language, sexual allusions

WC: 1.1k

Xoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxox

“So, where were we exactly?” You glanced, utterly bored, at your blind date. He had just returned from the loo after what felt like an hour — what he was doing there, taking shit or making out with a well-endowed waitress, you didn’t know. It’s not like you cared anyways; the guy was atrocious — self-centered with a plastered smile of a highly conceited person who thinks themselves better than anyone else. Every damn time you had started speaking about yourself, in answer to his superficial questions actually, he would suddenly butt in, completely ruining any remnants of a good opinion about himself in your eyes, and literally begin talking about himself. Out of the context. No exaggeration intended.

“Hey, listen, my friend called me up just a moment later. She said something about an emergency, like something happened in our dorm. Do you mind me taking a rain check?” You put on a fake smile of feigned sadness while gathering all your belongings already off the table as an indication of double urgency to your words.

“That’s alright. Carry on,” he said, “but only under the condition that you give me your number. I still have so many questions to ask you.”

While saying so, his gaze momentarily slipped to your bosom, and a smirk surfaced on his face.

Ugh. What. A. Fucking. Cocksure. Prick.

“Yeah, sure.” Your tone evidently exposed your chagrin, but the what’s-his-name was probably way to self-absorbed to even fucking notice. Without further ado, you gave him a fake number along with another fake smile before promptly ditching the place of horror. You made a mental note to never return there again.

You didn’t comprehend what the deal was with all the guys now on the dating apps. Every single time you decided to venture and meet up with someone, after having devoted a couple of evenings of getting acquainted with a person on the other side of the screen, they would always turn out to be the worst of the worst wankers. Was it a sign for you decamp the dating apps and hope that life would bring along someone worthy your attention? And time?

Were the dating apps simply for some lonesome 20-something pervs who opted just for a one-night-stand or alike, and nothing that would transcend beyond?

Or was it just your fault that you attracted these kinds of people? Maybe the core problem, in fact , was you?

As a situational irony would have it, so in a brown study you were, that your spatial orientation seemed to have failed you, for you bumped into someone. Hard. To the point where both of you —as if suddenly on two different sides of the magnetic field —collapsed on the ground, apart from each other, with the loud thuds.

You groaned and for a moment thought that life simply couldn’t get any better. Sarcasm widely intended. From what you could instantly feel, you were going to have a pretty nasty bruise on your left side of the hip. And your outfit was entirely ruined, with the tights ripped as though some ferocious animal clawed on it, and the rest of your attire was throughly covered in mud. Not to mention the embarrassment of facing the individual who you have knocked down with your absolute lack of attentiveness.

Fucking awesome.

“I’m so sorry,” said you and the person opposite you at the same time. Involuntarily, you scrunched your brows and looked from the ground at the trampled stranger. His gaze was already concentrated on you and he seemed to be bearing the same train of thought as you had — ‘what the heck are they apologizing for?’

Once you scrutinized the stranger’s countenance more closely, you decided that he was rather exquisite in the appearance. He had his brown doe eyes that spoke nothing but innocence; the jawline was so prominent and sharp that you were quite sure that he could cut paper with that shit; his lips were twisted in a soft smile which made him look purely angelic; a little brow piercing only added to his comeliness, instantly exposing that he wasn’t a type of a person you were going to be bored around with.

Also, once he stood up from the collision, he proved to be of an exceptional height which impressed you. The height difference between the two of you was speaking volumes, which was… hot.

He was hot.

Everything about him was hot.

The innominate stranger extended his hand as a silent offer for you to stand up. You willingly accepted the gesture, soon leveling up, and again fully standing on your feet, although now in a more blighted state than before.

You wanted to utter the statement of gratitude and so you lifted your eyesight to his face again. Conversely, he wasn’t looking at you now but rather transfixing on the two-star tattoo on your inward wrist and your still-joint palms. You didn’t understand his reaction, however he, as if inferring your train of thought, turned around his wrist so now the inward part was visible as well.

It took you a moment to realize what he meant — but when you finally did, the situation left you awestruck. He had the same, if not identical, tattoo engraved on the exact same spot you had. Even a little imperfections of the already-a-tad-faded tattoo could be traced.

No. The tattoos were definitely identical which was bizarre.

Instead of being wholly weirded-out by all of this, a strange sense of ecstasy overwhelmed you. You had never felt like this before, not even after a proper session of sex, as you stood there with a complete stranger with your fingers intertwined. The feelings that you seemed to bear in your chest were not only ecstasy but also… the abnormal calmness, as if nothing in the world could rupture your inner peace now.

The rangy stranger appeared to have the same feeling of unadulterated composure, for a grin spread across his face with a strange look of simultaneous disbelief and fascination in his eyes. The expression utterly mirrored yours.

For all and no time in the universe, you both stared at one another as the bolt of electricity passed through your bodies. Excited electricity. The kind of electricity which makes you contemplate your deeply-entrenched theism. The electricity which foreshadowed that something thrilling is bound to happen.

Or someone thrilling is bound to settle in your life for longer than planned.

[legitidvleaks]

Robbie Whyte (Axe Boy) Character Day Letter [Part B]

"Whenever I pruned the juniper branches, I would think of the fuzzy feeling sitting on my father's shoulders." "Under the juniper tree buried the memories of my sister and me." "The milk was cold and a little sour, but with my sister, it was all happiness." "I wish my sister would come back soon." I was moved by Ernest's recollection, but I tempered my emotions to maintain objectivity and stay focused on the investigation. For a time, the two boys continued their exchanges, until, one day, Ernest learned that the White Sand Street Orphanage had changed ownership. After that, fewer and fewer children emerged from its grim walls, and Ernest saw less and less of Robbie. He often observed stretcher-bearers hauling covered bodies in and out of the orphanage, but at the time, he could not fathom the significance of those grim occurrences. Ernest's last memory of Robbie occurred one night after he had finished his deliveries and was heading home. He heard someone calling out to him. Turning, he saw Robbie standing pale and gaunt on the other side of the iron fence. Robbie, looking worn and distressed, explained that he had not seen his sister for days. Since the orphanage had changed ownership, she had been taken away and locked in a room upstairs. "My sister poured out my medicine," Robbie had told him. "She said if I took it, I wouldn't get any more candy." "I wanted to help him," Ernest confessed, his voice heavy with regret. "I told him, ‘Maybe when it gets dark, you can sneak past the guards and look at your sister through the window by the wall. Robbie, something's not right. You need to escape with her. We'll meet outside, and then we can deliver newspapers together. We'll make a life for ourselves.'" Ernest's face clouded over as he recalled the futile hope in his words. Not long after, a chilling report emerged of a patient with an axe in the asylum, and Robbie Whyte vanished from all known accounts. With the information I had gathered from Ernest and from subsequent reports, I was able to piece together the broader narrative. While the true culprit of these tragedies may have been identified, the series of unfortunate events, and the irreversible consequences they brought, had clearly weighed heavily on Ernest. It seemed that he was the only one in the neighborhood who still cared about Robbie. After assuring him that my investigation would remain private, Ernest appeared to relax. "Somerset," Robbie had often mentioned, "might hold more answers." So, after a brief journey, I arrived in Somerset and found the "Juniper Tree Park" that Robbie had spoken of. The elderly residents in the area still remembered the Whyte family with fondness. When I inquired about the siblings, they spoke highly of them, particularly Robbie, who, though small in stature, would often bounce around excitedly after Sunday services, offering cheerful greetings to his neighbors. The house they had once lived in had long since passed into other hands, and the juniper tree that had once stood proudly in their garden had been cut down. All that remained was a tangle of weeds and overgrown shrubs. Following Ernest's clues, I continued to search the area and soon discovered something hard buried in the soil—a glass bottle. The bottle's seal had been broken, and inside, ants had devoured the candy, leaving only faded wrappers behind. Tucked within the bottle was a yellowed, blurry photograph. Despite its condition, I could see Dolores Whyte, radiant and healthy, holding a smiling Robbie. On the back of the photo, a handwritten note read: "If Robbie takes his medicine, he'll get a candy as a reward." At that moment, it became clear that Robbie Whyte was not the crybaby spoken of in the asylum's grim records, but a happy child once full of life, basking in the love of his family beneath the shade of the juniper tree.

[burnwater13]

Concept art by Christian Alzmann from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 5, The Jedi. Depicts Grogu using the Force in the direction of some white and pink flowers. Image from https://www.starwars.com/chapter-13-concept-art-gallery?image_id=5b5837cc304bbebd6b4f2a72

Din Djarin Tells a Tale part 1

Grogu loved his dad and despite all the boring stuff they did together, day in and day out, Grogu was pretty sure that the Mandalorian had done some fairly exciting things before they met. He was a bounty hunter after all and not all the people who he brought in cold had been boring accountants, like the Mythrol. But Din Djarin never told him those stories. He really didn’t tell Grogu any kind of stories that weren’t simply children’s tales that were told by every and any parent no matter where you came from. 

Every culture had the story about the bad people who stole children who were naughty away from their loving parents and made them work in awful conditions and gave them nothing but veggies to eat. The horror. Or the story about the children who get lost someplace, like a market or an apartment complex, or a warren of subterranean tunnels and were only able to find their way out because they used threads from the sweater it took their dad days to knit to create a trail they could follow back. Or the story about the person who crept into their rooms at night and stole their teeth and left prizes for them.

Grogu had learned all those stories from his friend Ian and was certain that he really didn’t want to hear them again from the Mandalorian. The only thing that ever changed about the stories was the name of the bad guy (it was always a guy) and the name of the village, town, city, or municipality where it all took place. So something happened in Keldabe instead of Cornet City, big deal. It was still the same story.

Or at least he had thought it was. 

He’d been arguing with his dad for a long time, perhaps ten or twenty minutes, that he wanted to hear one of the harrowing tales of his early life as a Mandalorian Bounty Hunter. Who was the biggest, meanest, most evil person Din Djarin had ever brought in cold? Perhaps a Sith Lord? Maybe a wayward bounty hunter? The head of a criminal syndicate? Anything like that would be a lot better than hearing about Granny Sarad and the Children of the Lilies. 

“Grogu, you haven’t even heard the story yet. It may cover all those other things and you won’t know if you won’t let me tell it.”

Uff. Grogu hated it when his dad made a good logical point like that. It just wasn’t fair. 

He climbed into his hammock, pulled his stuffed rancor closer, and turned to pay attention to his dad. Which actually seemed kind of silly because all he could see was Din Djarin’s helmet. It didn’t really emote effectively. But that just meant his voice would have to work harder to keep Grogu’s attention. Well… they’d see how that went.

“Okay. Before you ask, Ta’lan and Seb did not tell me this story. This is not one of their historically accurate but wildly imaginative stories from Mandalore’s deep, deep past. This story was told to me when I was a youngling living on Concordia in the covert that supported those who were newly found. We were all told this story and by the time we had graduated from the apprenticeship program we had told it to dozens of younglings ourselves. It is serious business and I would appreciate it if you paid attention and saved any questions you have for the end of the story. Are we agreed?”

Dank Farrik! Now his dad wanted him to bump fists in agreement over not interrupting the story! What if he needed to use the privy? What if he didn’t understand something? What if he found the whole tale unbelievable and highly suspect? What then? Uff. Grogu already knew the answer to that question. His dad would stop telling him stories for at least a couple days, maybe even a full week. He’d done that before when Din Djarin had told him the story of how he got the scar on the bridge of his nose. He’d made Grogu promise not to laugh, but the story was so funny Grogu had to laugh. If he hadn’t been able to he probably would have exploded from the bottled up laughter and that would have been painful and messy. 

“‘K”. 

“Thank you. On Mandalore, two thousand years ago, the Mand’alor was known as Gar the Wise. Gar was a very good Mand’alor and the people of Mandalore trusted him and followed him willingly. His partner was name Jax. It was short for Jacinda and she was an armorer. Everyday she would walk through Keldabe, which was the capital of Mandalore at the time, and go to her forge and make armor for the people of Mandalore. 

The armor she made was very fine and she was as much an artist as she was a craftsperson and everything she made was beautiful. She and Gar were very happy together and the people of Mandalore loved her as much as they loved him. 

One day, while she was walking through the palace grounds, Jax noticed an older lady walking with a cane and moving very slowly. Jax, being a kind and loving person went to that lady and asked if there was any way she might be of assistance. The lady looked up at her and smiled. Jax was the first person to ever ask her if she needed assistance without just picking her up and moving her along faster. That might have helped the person who discovered her, but it was not what the lady wanted, just because she walked slowly with a cane. 

‘Child, I have been told that the Mand’alor has the most lovely garden. I would like to see it. I have a plant for him if his garden is as lovely as I have been told it is.’ 

Jax listened to the lady and knew exactly which garden she was speaking about. Gar the Wise loved flowers and all manner of plants. He hoped to see a day when Mandalore was covered with planets and trees and all manner of flowers like it had been in its ancient past.”

[cbrownjc]

Don't you think that if Louis had said to Daniel something along those lines: "I know human life might not sound appealing to you, in fact if you're honest with yourself you're already down deep and struggling... but it doesn't have to be this way, you can find beauty in yourself and people around you, you can create something beautiful with another person [...]" that that would've worked as a strong enough subconscious incentive for Daniel to actually create maybe not a perfect life but at least a life where he didn't ruin other people's lives and led a life he could actually feel proud of (maybe something along those lines: living as a poor man but with a loving family and trying to live as hero reporter even if not famous; sort of a twist, a combination of what Louis originally said to him - a bright young reporter with a pov - and what I just wrote above - in other words he wouldn't pour all of himself only into his career). At first glance this might reek of mediocrity in all areas but I don't think so, Daniel might've just been able to pull of a healthy work-family balance and a healthy attitude towards himself and others, a hero in his family's eyes.

I don't disagree with you that ofc Daniel had all of the described self-destructive tendencies already in himself but it makes the world of a difference if somebody, especially a frightening, psychotic (to Daniel), powerful ancient vampire points them out to you, especially after Daniel has been through what was the single worst and traumatic experience in his life. People can be highly succeptible to what other people think/say about us in regular conditions, not to say in deeply traumatic one as he was in.

I think with the right words Daniel could've been encouraged to fight and overcome his self-destructive tendencies and not covet the vampire life because he would lose the reason to covet it. I don't think Daniel wanted to be turned into a vampire just because he wanted to use his vampire powers to be some kind of hero; that idea was just an escape for him, an escape from himself, just like drugs. He didn't even think things through when he spurted that, that's why Louis yelled back at his proposal: "have you even been listening to me boy?!!" Because Daniel, as high as he already was, didn't really took the time to actually consider what he was asking for. His statement: "I can be your Lestat, your Claudia [...]" also has that same air of impulsive thinking to it.

Daniel at that time was bright and astute, sure, he had moments of profound insight but that was still unpolished and untrained, a diamond-in-the-rough, that's why he simultaneously had moments of profound clumsiness and inexperience, just as his older version recollects him saying constantly: "[...] and then what?" Surely, there's a big chance his desire to become a vampire was just something made in the spurr of the moment and something he might just have regretted it later.

Hello!

So okay, first of all, I apologize for taking so long to answer this. And with the season being over that will now probably inform my opinion on all of this from when you first asked.

So the thing is I don't necessarily disagree with you. I do think it was possible that Daniel could have been encouraged in that way regarding his life by Louis. And maybe it could have had an effect later in Daniel's life.

But I think the issue is that at least at that moment in time? Daniel didn't put forward an overwhelming desire for that kind of life. Not like how he did about wanting to be a writer/journalist.

You see this in regard to the things Daniel's mind kept using to resist Armand's attempt to accept death. Everything Daniel said outside of just not having any desire to die period was in so way related to being a journalist. Even the "bright young reporter with a point of view" comment was something Daniel said first about himself, not Louis.

I think that shows how much Daniel's own identity of self and self-worth was tied up into being a writer, being a journalist.

Yes, Daniel had a fear about ending up in a relationship like his parents appeared to have, with kids who shied away from him. But I'm not sure that fear was as tied up in his -- then present -- sense of self as being a journalist was for him.

The idea of having a better family life of his own wasn't what his mind went to when trying to resist Armand's death pull. Being that "bright young reporter with a point of view" was.

And I think that may also be the reason Louis also specifically latched onto that when he gave Daniel those words of encouragement -- because they were, at heart, Daniel's own about himself that gave him the type of reinforcement to even in some little way fight against Armand's intent.

So while I do think Louis could have also given supporting words about how Daniel wouldn't have the type of family life he feared, I'm not sure that Daniel himself felt strongly enough in that way about himself -- about himself one day having such a positive framework in contrast to his fear -- that it would have worked. Maybe it would have -- I wouldn't say it never could have, as I don't feel I have enough information about Daniel's family life as a whole to make such a call. But I'm not certain it could have.

[aemondsbabe]

If you want to share, thoughts on tonight's episode? As usual, Aemond's scenes especially and how they affect who he is?

I really don't wanna see him as someone who only cares about himself or is apathetic :/ but idk... What do you think?

putting my answers under the cut bc they contain spoilers from the newest ep and will probably be long bc idk when to shut up (◡‿◡✿)

first small council scene:

i’m only going to be speaking about his interactions with alicent in that scene, particularly the bit at the very end where he and alicent are alone! idc about those other men, so sorry!!!!

anyway.

after they’re alone, he asks alicent of her place on the council. she reminds him. he says viserys is dead without fanfare or remorse, no pause, no thinking — dead. which makes sense.

however, there is quite a pregnant pause when he gets to aegon. if aemond truly wanted his brother dead, truly meant to hurt him, and didn’t care that he had succeeded, idk why he’d pause there or act as if he cared. maybe because alicent is there but even that i doubt a little — he doesn’t hold himself back from saying anything else in her presence and she (probably) thinks he hurt aegon on purpose already so it doesn’t make sense to me why he wouldn’t just say that, whether it’s true or not.

like the guy looks visibly uncomfortable talking about aegon’s condition. if he didn’t care for aegon, at least a little, and if he wanted him dead…. why would he care now that he’s hurt? why would that make him uncomfortable? he doesn’t even know at this point that aegon’s regained consciousness, that doesn’t come until later in the episode, so it isn’t a matter of “aegon’s awake and i’m scared of what he’ll say.”

later in this same conversation, alicent cups his cheek and the emotion on his face is a lil staggering dare i say. the man was near tears. in my mind, this is him very clearly mourning the relationship he once had with his mother. i think he feels compelled to punish her in a way because i think he sees her actions as of late as abandonment.

again, i go back to that conversation he had with criston in episode 1. he’s upset that alicent is giving rhaenyra any leeway. rhaenyra, the mother of the boys that took his eye. rhaenyra, the woman who wanted him tortured. rhaenyra, the woman who threatens his family. of course alicent giving her any grace would hurt him deeply, especially since she was the only one who stood up for him that night.

if anything, i think aemond’s main source of pain right now is alicent. i think much of his actions and inactions this entire season have hinged on alicent. which is quite tragic and lovely at the same time idk.

anyway.

the scene with aegon:

i’ve made this point before and i’m making it again because this scene further solidified it for me: i think the entire thing with aegon is brothers bickering.

again, those brothers are powerful people. a king and a prince — both with dragons — so it’s different than the sibling bickering we’re used to but i still think that’s what it is.

again, aemond couldn’t premeditate hurting aegon. he didn’t know he and sunfyre would be at rook’s rest. he didn’t even know meleys and rhaenys would be at rook’s rest. i think that little groan he did when he saw aegon fly in, and him calling him and idiot, was him essentially going “you fucking idiot i told you this was stupid and here you are being stupid.” i don’t think it was necessarily malicious — aemond quite clearly thinks highly of himself and his abilities and is pretty quick to look down on others he deems lesser in any way. i think that was aemond being aemond.

i’m not going to sit here and say that he was an angel to go to aegon and that the scene between them was so cute and soft because it wasn’t.

BUT.

i think it’s brothers bickering. it reminded me heavily of when you’re fighting with a sibling and you hit them too hard and now they’re crying and mom is literally walking over and we have to get the story straight because you are NOT getting me in trouble!!! it gave those vibes.

aside from that, i think much of aemond’s character revolves around how he looks to others and how he is perceived. if he came out and just said “what happened with aegon was an accident and i feel bad,” that’s him 1) admitting fault and admitting he made a mistake and 2) in his mind, that’s him being vulnerable and non threatening and therefore, we cannot do that.

if anything, i think he’s playing into the fact that i’m sure that more than a few people think he hurt aegon on purpose and using that to his advantage in order to seem more formidable and scary and vicious. that’s why i wish we got more scenes of him being genuinely vulnerable whether it’s more brothel scenes or more scenes of him just by himself — to give us a glimpse of actual not put upon aemond because i think that aemond is worlds different than how he presents himself in public.

again, i think he cares deeply about very many things and doesn’t have a healthy, effective way of showing that.

thank you anon for coming to my tedtalk i am sorry this is literally like a whole novel 😭😅🩷

[chiisana-sukima]

Happy Wincest Wednesday!

A normal person would ask a Christmas question, but I hate Christmas. So instead: what's a kink that one brother is really into and the other isn't? Do they indulge it to make their brother happy or shut it right down? Feel free to answer for both Sam and Dean's unreciprocated kinks!

... And yes, if you must you can also add Christmas headcanons.

- schizosamwincester

Happy Wincest I Am Late Again as Usual-day!

So, I think Dean, in keeping with his aro sex-is-for-fun lifestyle, enjoys lighthearted, kind of silly but uncomplicatedly enjoyable kinks like cosplay/light and silly roleplay, foodplay, maybe a bit of exhibitionist teasing, etc. This is a guy who digs "sexy rules" and thinks getting slapped by a girl wearing a zorro mask is risque. He would love bugging Sam into being that zorro girl and then laughing about how Sam should style his pretty princess hair to look like Wesley's from The Princess Bride, and Sam would say that makes Dean Princess Buttercup and Dean would be indignant, but ultimately Sam would 100% go along with it because he finds Dean's ridiculous humor endearing. Then Dean would legit get off on it and Sam would get off on making Dean happy.

Dean would order a tentacle dildo from Search the Web's equivalent of Adam & Eve and have it addressed to Sam and then mock Sam about how Sam finally saw that light that hentai is art but there's no need to keep his appreciation secret just because big brother realized it first. He would literally chase Sam around the bunker with Sam's new tentacle and leave it in various surprise locations with googly eyes stuck to it like a kinky besuckered Elf on a Shelf (there's my only Christmas reference lol). Sam would roll his eyes but eventually break down and they'd have hot tentacle monster roleplay sex.

I think Sam otoh pretends very, very hard not to have any kinks other than mildly rough sex. What you see on screen from Sam with regards to women (minus the knifeplay/bloodplay with Ruby) is basically how he conducts his sexual encounters with men too. Wall sex, maybe some biting but certainly not enough to break skin, etc. The combination of Sam being a beast of a sexual partner plus Dean's sense of adventure is plenty for them both to have a satisfying and enjoyable sex life.

...The only problem is they both have reciprocal, highly compatible trauma-related kinks that neither of them would admit to if their lives depended on it. Sam wants Dean to roleplay snuff with Sam as the victim. He wants Dean to cut him extensively with Ruby's knife. He wants Dean to recite the voicemail message that Dean doesn't even know exists at him, handcuff him to the pipes in the bathroom, and fuck the evil out of him. He wants Dean to strap him down in a devil's trap in the bunker's dungeon and show him what Alastair taught him.

Meanwhile, Dean would get off so hard on giving Sam all those things. He's been conditioned into sadism after all. And the thing is, over time, he becomes pretty aware Sam wants all that. They're terrible at keeping secrets from each other long term, so of course he would figure it out. But he would NEVER admit he knows or that he would enjoy it too, because he feels too guilty.

And to make matters even worse, he feels so guilty he'd actually also love for Sam to beat him unconscious and then fuck him about it, but he can't admit to that either because it would just make Sam feel bad. And though Sam doesn't realize the specifics, it would be impossible for him not to understand that Dean feels guilty in general and enjoys being treated faux poorly and humiliated for getting-off purposes.

Consequently, they both have this second layer of sexual intimacy that they can't really deal with head on. But they do try to accommodate each other around it at the margins. Sam fucks Dean rough enough sometimes that he knows he's hurting him. Dean gets Sam drunk sometimes before they bang and then chokes him a bit. Some days vanilla is good. Some days the silly lighthearted kink is perfect. Some days one feels in the mood to be aggressive enough that the other gets a taste of their secret desire. And some days its unfortunately a tad mediocre because:

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jessica Valenti at Abortion, Every Day:

Last night, Donald Trump attacked Vice President Kamala Harris on abortion rights for the first time since she became the presumptive presidential nominee, declaring her “a radical crazy person.” The good news is that Trump used language that’s not just predictable—but beatable. The only question is whether Harris’ campaign is willing to break with Democrats’ standard messaging to make that happen.  Trump’s regular refrain on abortion is to claim that Democrats support “late” and “post-birth” abortion, and his attack on Harris at a North Carolina rally was no different:

[“She is so radical, she wants abortions in the eighth and ninth month of pregnancy. That's fine with her. Right up until birth, and even after birth. The execution of a baby, because that's not abortion, that's the execution of a baby.”]

As dangerous as the lie is—after all, we know what this kind of rhetoric leads to—Harris has an opportunity to hit back at Trump in a new way. For too long, Democrats have relied on saying that Republican claims about abortion later in pregnancy are myths, if they’re not ignoring the attacks altogether. That timidity is a huge mistake.

If the vice president is willing to leave behind Biden-era defensiveness, she can destroy conservatives’ most powerful abortion talking point once and for all. After all, Americans support abortion rights because they oppose government interference in pregnancy, but also because they’re horrified by the cruelty of abortion bans. Harris should remind voters that when Trump talks about ‘executions,’ he is talking about real people who have been through real traumas. She needs to make him eat his words.  Most people don’t know, for example, that conservative claims about ‘post-birth’ abortions didn’t come out of nowhere. They originated from an interview with former Virginia governor Ralph Northam, who answered a question about a (highly insulting) hypothetical scenario in which a woman in labor wants an abortion. Northam replied that third trimester abortions are largely done in cases of severe fetal abnormalities or when a fetus is nonviable.

[...] Northam was referring to the very real decision some parents have to make about whether or not to decline extreme life-saving measures for fatally-ill newborns. When babies have lethal conditions or are born too early to survive, many parents would understandably prefer to spend those last precious moments with their children peacefully—without doctors performing medically invasive, painful, and ultimately futile procedures.  It’s not uncommon for NICU nurses to help parents set up in a private room, maybe with a chair and blanket, so they can say goodbye to their baby without wires, breathing tubes or beeping machines. In these final minutes, families want to give their children peace and dignity. That’s what Trump means by ‘post-birth’ abortions. Those are the parents he is calling executioners. Americans should know that. Parents who’ve had to make this impossible decision have already been speaking out against Republican ‘Born Alive’ bills, which would prevent families from having those last quiet moments with their babies. Their stories are out there, and deserve to be heard.

[...] If Democrats want abortion to help them win this November, they must go on offense. Those still worried about seeming ‘extreme’ should consider that Americans largely understand that pregnancy is too complicated to legislate, that Trump will call them radicals regardless of their messaging, and—most of all—remember that it wasn’t so long ago that abortion itself was seen as a third rail issue. Besides, nearly all of Republicans’ messages on abortion, from their focus on ‘exceptions’ to lying about the word ‘ban,’ are barely-disguised defensive crouches. Accusations of extremism and ‘executions’ are Republicans’ last proactive abortion message. With Harris as the nominee—someone who knows about abortion rights and understands the issue deeply—we have a chance to shut it down for good.

Jessica Valenti explains how Kamala Harris and the Democrats need to diffuse the lies from Donald Trump about post-fetal viability abortions in which he rails against “late-term” and “post-birth” abortions.

With Harris as the nominee, the Democratic Party has a perfect messenger on abortion more in line with the post-Roe reality.