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sylverstorms · 3 years

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Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch. 9

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8

'I’ll see you later', she said.

But 'later' never comes.

After the days that have passed, it doesn’t look like it will, either. Your schedule is changed to working the day shift, permanently. When you ask about the change, the Grand Chambermaid tells you it is a direct order from Lady Alcina.

A few months ago, you would consider it a gift from heaven. The morning shift is absolutely safe and maids trip over themselves in happiness to get it for however long. It means the daughters are asleep and the halls are quiet; that there is no danger of blood drawn over the slightest misstep.

But you are not happy. If anything, it feels like there is a thorn lodged in the back of your throat, hurting you from within.

Keep your head down. Do your job. Map every nook and cranny of the castle. You repeat the same words to yourself to give you a driving force, a sense of purpose… yet it is not escaping that your mind reels right back to.

It’s her.

It’s the way she would pop out of nowhere, going “rah!” just to get your blood pumping, then break into little giggles before gluing her body to yours, to bask in your warmth. The way she would fidget when she couldn’t keep still. Her quiet laughs when something genuinely amused her. Her cool touch. Her voice. Her breathy gasps and hooded eyes in the dark above you.

The time you despised Cassandra seems so distant now it may as well have been a different life. She is —perhaps always will be— many things you should detest. But she hasn’t been any of them around you for so long.

The initial cuts on you turned to scratches, then to simply the drag of her dark-painted nails over your skin. She stopped terrorizing the other maids. Her time in the dungeons below the castle diminished.

There were times when you were laying in bed together that you even considered the playful girl there with you had the potential be someone you could see yourself love.

From what you hear some of the maids whisper… that girl is no more.

At first, you don’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it.

Until you see one of the girls —Valia, if memory serves—downing one painkiller after the other and clutching at her bandaged chest during breakfast. And you make the mistake of asking what happened.

“This is all your fault!” she snaps and swings her hand to hit you, but you stop her and pin the limb down, rattling the table.

All eyes in the room shift to you.

“Calm yourself.” you warn her.

“She wasn’t like this before! What did you do to displease her and have her take it out on us, huh?!” she demands, tears in her eyes.

Then you understand. Cassandra did this to her.

As the older maids come to separate you, taking her away and trying to soothe her, you find your appetite is gone. You take your leave from the room and get to work an hour earlier than you’re supposed to.

It isn’t easy when every glance at a window reminds you of her scream, or when every flying insect that enters your peripheral brings forth the image of her body breaking apart from the cold.

You don’t notice how long you’ve been working for, until your surroundings are positively bathed in shadows. When you look out the nearest window, the sun is nowhere to be found in the sky.

Oh, no. You start to stress. You should have left ages ago.

Hurried steps take you through hallways you know the daughters don’t frequent as much. It is the long way around to your room, but distance is the least of your worries.

A familiar laugh from the other end of the corridor sends every attempt to calm your nerves right into the trash.

You are suddenly overcome with the urge to say her name, to see her, to make sure she’s alright so you can erase the image of her form crumbling from your mind.

But.

There is a reason Alcina had you working the day shift. And Cassandra would have come to see you if she wanted to. It’s not a pretty thought, but reality usually isn’t. You’ve come to terms with that from a very young age.

So you bite your tongue and keep walking, eyes fixed on the carpet. Part of you is relieved to hear Daniela’s giggle follow her sister’s voice. Cassandra can focus on her and pass you by like she does the decorations around –which, considering the past days, is probably all you were worth to her, anyway.

The distance between you gradually diminishes…

You’ve almost passed her by when Cassandra stops. At least you know her well enough to brace for it.

The next instant, nails are digging through the skin of your biceps and your back is pinned, hard, against the wall. You gasp but you’re too proud to cry out. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“I thought mother had you working during the day.”

There’s ice in her voice as she says it, though her eyes have a strange look about them you’d almost describe as melancholy. You know how they light up at the prospect of hunting and killing. This isn’t it.

“Forgive me, Lady Cassandra. I lost track of time.” you reply back. An accusation you can't quite erase is adrift somewhere in your tone.

Her lips twist. She rips your shirt and opens bleeding cuts on your flesh with how harshly her nails pull out of you. The force shoves you sideways, into the faint alcove of a shut window.

Her hand comes to your nape and traps your head there. You can feel her entertain the idea to squeeze harder. Perhaps hurt you enough for everything that ever was between you to completely die. And still your body, the worst traitor of all, welcomes the feel of her breath by your ear when she leans in.

“How come you haven’t used it yet?” she asks. “You know our weakness now, Alexia.”

And she’s right, isn’t she.

How come you haven’t used it to escape? You know it’s below zero degrees outside. Certainly, you could make up an excuse to yourself about the winged monsters lurking around the castle or that you may not make it to the village with that much snow. But that’s all these are. Excuses.

“Come on, the window is right here.” Cassandra hisses and forces your hand to wrap around the handle. “Open it.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Daniela take tiny steps to the side, to avoid the blast of cold should you indeed decide you want them to feel what you feel. “Uhh… Cassandra…?” she says, quietly.

And suddenly you see red for reasons that have nothing to do with the sharp fucking sting on your arms. You can’t contain the anger that bursts out of you like lava from a volcano—

You jerk back with all your strength, actually managing to move her a step away.

“Maybe you get off on it but I sure as hell don’t hurt the people I care about!” Even when they don’t care back.

You’re certainly no stranger to the feeling.

Cassandra freezes up. Daniela’s eyes flit between the two of you like she’s debating calling out for either Bela or her mother for help, before the storm brewing in the air really fucks something up.

Cassandra’s hand shoots forward and closes, tight, around your throat. She presses close, close enough for you to feel the phantom caress of her mouth over yours as she speaks;

“If you don’t want to hurt me, make sure I don’t see you again. Because if bleeding you out is the only way I can be with you… I may take that deal.” Her fingers tremble on your jugular.

Then she’s gone, dragging her sister along with her. You can’t breathe any easier even without her cutting off your airway.

“…so…. does this mean I can have Alexia now?” Daniela’s voice faintly reaches your ears from down the corridor.

Cassandra only grabs her by the nape and pushes her into one of the rooms in response.

Crimson-red travels down your body along with the waterdrops and rolls around the drain in hypnotic swirls. The cuts on your arms would hurt if your heart wasn’t already in pieces.

But who is there but yourself to blame? You knew what you were getting into was no wise idea. You knew you were fucked when it stopped being about your survival. You knew. Yet you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more with her.

And now every single one of your issues and insecurities rises up like a tsunami ready to sweep you with its force and crush you amidst the wreckage.

It seems to be an inescapable curse in your life that everyone you care for leaves you in shambles, one way or another.

It started with your father, when he abandoned you and your mother for a wealthy woman, never to return. Continued with her bringing you to this superstitious, shitty village and soon after leaving you due to an illness. The first girl you fell for fled one night without telling you a single thing. Only a half-assed letter was dropped behind for you.

And now Cassandra discards you, as well, like a broken toy she cannot stand to see yet stubbornly refuses to let go of. You are left bleeding inside and outside, feeling more and more like how she used to call you;

A plaything.

The word never quite bothered you, but now it makes something inside you boil.

Like everyone else, Cassandra has left.

So why should you be the one to stay?

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #fanfiction #writing #in which the babies are hurt #and not coping very well #on an unrelated note why is Daniela so cute I can't--

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 4 years

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ON FEYSAND’S PLOTLINE IN ACOSF

!!!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE ACOSF!!!!

Let’s be honest for a while, okay?

ACOCF had potential to be SJM’s best book, if not for any other reason then because of the sheer idea of it. Coming-of-age, healing story of the most complex and polarizing character she has ever created set in the time of peace, away from the familiar setting (according to the later changed concept which still remains in the snippet at the end of ACOFAS), development of her arguably most feisty and angsty love story... It could be her absolute trumph. Even with the change to stick to Velaris instead of exploring the Illyrian culture of the Mountains and with the added conflict of the Mortal Queens and Koshei, it still could work quite well.

It didn’t. For many, many reasons, but the most important one, in my opinion, being the feysand pregnancy plot.

Nothing about this plotline made sense. Not a single thing. From start to finish, it was an absolute disaster from the character-writing POV, from the narration POV, from every single context of it. It broke the rules of real-life logic, it broke the rules of this fantasy world setting and it completely exposed that Rhysand, while not a bad guy, is a pretty terrible partner, even worse ruler and an absolutely terrible contender for the High King title.

Let’s break this whole mess down (and expect this post to be mammoth-sized. it’s not my fault, though, write to SJM if you have any complains):

1) Feyre, 21, decides to get pregnant, even though less than a year earlier, she expresses the delight with not being forced to bear children to her new mate and told him herself she wants to wait a while and enjoy her life with him. Feyre decides she wants a baby though and Rhysand goes along with it, even though he is aware how young Feyre is and how hard her life has been up until this point. He wants a baby too much to have an honest discussion with Feyre about it, to stop and wonder what is the reason for her sudden change of heart, to reassure her that they have a lot of time ahead of them and don’t need to rush. No. She mades a sudden decision to have a baby after A YEAR OF MARRIAGE and not much more of being turned fae, JUST AFTER having her whole world put upside down, having received a completely new title and responsibilities, surviving the wat and being mated. Great.

2) Feyre decides to get pregnant and Rhys goes along with it less than a year after the end of the bloody war. It is politically a delicate time, everyone is still not sure how the balance will shift, some countries don;t want to sign the peace treaty, etc. There are a lot of enemies and a lot of turmoil remaining. But sure. Let’s have a baby. Perfect time to add yet another target, another weakness that can be use by the Mortal Queens, Beron or whatever else with malicious intent towards the Night Court.

2) Feyre gets pregnant after approximately a year of trying. I know healthy people of reproductive age for whom it takes ages more than this. Fae’s pregnancies are rare af and precious and happen once in a blue moon, but ofc SJM broke the world’s rules for her darling Feyre. And again, for Kallas and Vivianne who are also expecting the baby, even though it has been a maximum of 3 years since they’ve mated. 3 years is also not a particularly long time to try to have a baby for those who have issues with their reproductive systems like Fae women. Thank you, next.

3) Rhys has unprotected sex with Feyre in her Illyrian form when she conceives, even though he knows full well having a winged baby would kill her. He does it anyway, for shits and giggles apparently. They probably have sex in the sky above Velaris, for all we know.

4) The baby has wings. Now, the whole explanation with Illyrian wings being bony (bc they resemble bat wings) and Seraphin ones being more flexible (bc they resemble bird ones) is so insanely stupid that it takes around 3 seconds to wikipedia this shit and find out it’s exactly the opposite. But okay, the baby has wings and Feyre will die while giving birth, along with the baby. Madja forbids Feyre from turning into an Illyrian to carry the pregnancy because it MIGHT hurt the baby. Now, remember, Feyre conceived while in Illyrian form and then turned into High Fae. The baby survived it just fine. The baby MIGHT be hurt by Feyre turning .... but it will FOR SURE die if she stays High Fae and Feyre will too. Idk about you, but I would take the risk of MIGHT instead of FOR SURE. Especially when she is already in labour and dying. Cauldron or Nesta or idk who alters Feyre’s pelvis after the baby is cut out of her for no apparent reason but to allow feysand to make exactly the same mistakes later on. How convinient. And Nesta also alters her own pelvis bc god forbid she won’t be able give Cassian babies like the little useful mate she is now. She should’ve probably done it with Elain too, just in case she decides to fuck Az in the future, because fuck consequences and fuck the stakes in the story that make the readers actually CARE about characters bc they know the author may actually kill them and not save their life every fucking time.

5) I don’t even want to comment on the fact Rhys hid the true danger of this pregnancy for Feyre and their family went along with it. It is absolutely disgusting. And Nesta telling her and that being condemned as the act of the ultimate cruelty which is a final straw to break her self-loathing back.... is abhorrent. It made my sick, actually, phisically sick. There is no justification for it. No at all. And the fact that they did not even consider abortion sends a message that I really don’t want to think too much about it. Feyre was 2 months along when they learned the baby is winged. 2 months. 8 weeks. It wasn’t a baby yet, let’s be honest. They could’ve at least discussed it. She - oh my god, I cannot believe SJM wrote it this way, I’m gonna be sick.

6) For the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, they have no plan to really help her. Labour plan? Haven’t heard if it. They have money and power and access to the healers of the whole land. And did not figure out how to stop her from bleeding out after a fucking C-section. THIS WORLD HAS MAGIC AND THEY COULDN’T STOP HER FROM BLEEDING OUT AFTER A FUCKING C-SECTION. Didn’t even ask Thesan, the High Lord of Healing, to be present. Cassian had guts hanging out of his stomach and survived. Az was fucking slashed apart in Hybern and survived. But yeah, Feyre was on a brink of death after a C-section. Great, Sarah. Keep it up. Let’s force the thought into young girls’ heads that labour is the most lethal thing ever, why not.

7) Also, for the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, Rhys keeps quiet about this idiotic bargain. He, as far as we know, doesn’t make any plans for the moment when him and Feyre and possibly their baby are dead. If they died and baby survived.. who would take care of it? Does Rhys have a conversation with his family about it? NAH. Doesn’t write any sort of plan how to keep the Court going, doesn’t inform even the closest of his co-workers how they should proceed to act after he’s gone and his and Feyre’s power go to god-knows-who. Their deaths would mean a sure chaos for the weakend and fragile Prythian and the Night Court especially and yet nor Rhys nor Feyre make any sort of preparations for it. Rhys doesn’t tell his brothers or Mor or HIS SECOND IN COMMAND they will all soon have to somehow manage without him. He was about to just leave them to their own devices and told them in the last. possible. moment.

And this man - this man is, according to Amren, the best candidate to handle the whole country? To unite it? This fool who makes idiotic bargains, who thinks first about his cock and his own selfish desires and considers his subjects and his responsibilities as a High Lord last and least important of all? Who has so much trust in his wife, in his High Lady, the mother of his son that he doesn’t tell her she will almost surely die on a birthing bed because it MAY UPSET HER?

This plotline was the straw that broke my back. ACOTAR, at it’s heart has always been a ya fantasy with added ‘spice’ and I was willing to bend my critical-thinking skills in many cases and forget and forgive many smaller idiotic issues in this series. But this? It is not idiotic. It is massive and stupid to the point when it becomes insulting to the reader. It was a plot straight out of a bad fanfic, not something that should be in a published book written by someone who writes for a living. You could even argue that Twilight has handled this toxic trope better. I have wasted my money on this book and thinking about it will always be painful for me. So yeah.

ACOSF could be great. Ended up quite pathetic.

#acosf #acosf spoilers #a court of silver flames #rhysand #feysand

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reidyoulikeabook · 4 years

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Right Where You Left Me

Ship: BAU! Gender Neutral! reader x Spencer Reid

#Request - Could you do some angst with “you dont deserve my forgiveness?” Any ship!

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mention of death, violence, injury (not serious), angst, mourning, a lot of tears. Also, swearing, anger, fighting (verbal, not physical.)

Summary: You and Spencer Reid had been together for a year before he ‘died.’ You grieved him. You mourned him.

A/N: Title stolen from my (current) favourite Taylor Swift song. Not sure how I feel about this one but! Here it is anyway! My requests are open & pls feel free to let me know what you think!!

14 days and 30 minutes exactly

You don’t think about the day Spencer Reid died. You can’t, because even remembering he’s dead feels as if an ice bucket has been tipped over your head. Not even now, two weeks later, have you really gotten over the initial shock that you felt. Every waking moment felt like you were trying to solve some kind of never-ending puzzle. Each emotion was overwhelming, too much to process. It felt like things would only start to get better, like everybody promised they would, when you started to be able to name the emotions rather than describe them as the physical sensations they brought on.

And you didn’t think that’d happen anytime soon.

The shared apartment was too much. You hadn’t slept in your bed since he’d been gone, and forbid anyone else from going into the bedroom. It was a sanctuary.

You understood now more than ever why victims families never changed a thing about the room of their loved ones. Every single thing felt deliberate. Theirs. It was a reflection of the time they were most alive, living. A unique snapshot of them in motion. The mess they left that they expected to come home to.

Rationally, you knew that wasn’t true. There wasn’t a sock hanging off Spencer’s bedside table, or a clean cardigan balled up on the floor, for any reason other than he’d been in a rush that morning, and had left an uncharacteristically large mess in his wake. In more ways than one.

***

2 months, 5 days, 8 hours

Being back at work helps somewhat, but the office feels empty without him there to ramble off factoids about anything and everything, to hear Morgan calling him ‘kid’ every five minutes. He only called you that now.

Simmons is nice, really he is. It isn’t his fault he’s there in place of Spencer and you try hard not to feel personally aggrieved by his presence. He doesn’t do anything to antagonise you, he stays out of your way more than anything. You don’t do anything to purposely make him uncomfortable: you do try to be agreeable and make small talk. But it’s hard not to look at him without thinking how, if everything was how it should be, Spencer would be stood in his place.

***

3 months, 26 days, 3 hours.

There is no ‘new normal.’ You’ve heard the term tossed around a few times in relation to grief, but if there is a new normal you’re still struggling to find it. When you’re not on cases, there’s no ‘normal’. You still don't sleep in your own bed. Sometimes you stay on Rossi’s, or Morgan’s, or Garcia’s couch. Sometimes, read: maybe once, it’s in the spare room at the place you and Spencer used to share. Sometimes, when you get worried about being a burden, it’s a hotel. It’s easier to feel as if you’re choosing to stay away from home, rather than acknowledging that home, as you understand it, no longer exists.

You still wake up and instinctually search for Spencer most mornings. Sure, work is keeping you occupied and you smile a little more these days. You even allowed yourself to be dragged out for drinks last weekend. But nothing feels like it should. You don’t know if that’s normal for grief or if you just aren’t moving forward at all, doomed to tread yourself deeper into the melancholic quicksand that’s got a hold on you.

You talk at length about it with Garcia over wine one night.

“Nothing feels right,” you admit, “Everything just feels...”

Garcia waits, just tipping her chin slightly to encourage you to continue. She’s got the counsellor act down and you’d have the decency to feel embarassed if you weren’t just so damn exhausted all the time.

“I feel trapped, I guess. Like I’m frozen. I keep thinking maybe it’ll get better once the trials over. Once the whole legal aspect of it is over and put to bed, then maybe I’ll have some closure on the whole situation,” you mumble, “I just don’t know how to move forward. I don’t feel like I’ve moved forward. And I know it’s only been three months but I’ve only stayed at our apartment twice and I can’t bring myself to move any of his things and...”

She just waits. In that moment, you’re so grateful for her.

“I’m stuck here. I can’t change anything. I can’t bring myself to move any of his things. I’m paying rent on a place I don’t live in but I can’t move because how can I live somewhere he’s never been? I feel like I’m stuck. I can’t move out of the world he lived in but the world is moving on even without him. And I’m just...I’m just here, Garcia.”

She nods sympathetically, placing her hand on your arm, “Maybe it’ll help when the case is wrapped up. When you have that closure.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “Yeah. I hope so.”

“There’s something you’re not saying,” she says, gently, “And you don’t have to say it. But if you’re holding back because you feel guilty then you don’t have to feel guilty about anything you say to me, my darling.”

You start to well up then. The pressure in your chest is heavy, something akin to guilt. It slices into your chest, cut glass sitting between your ribs and slicing you open every time you breathe in. You’ve been thinking it a lot lately. Too much. It’s making you feel awful and you can’t decide if putting it out into the world verbally is going to be a release or make it feel too real.

Garcia waits patiently.

You decide to believe it’ll be the former, then whisper, “I wish I loved him less. I wish I’d loved him less so this wouldn’t hurt as much.”

And then the sobs come. The sobs that wrack your chest and sting your eyes and leave you looking like you’ve been on the receiving end of an upper cut. Because how could you? How could you possibly want to take back any of the love you had so willingly, freely, given to the person you loved most? What kind of person did it make you to want to take back the good memories: to wish that instead of having waffles on the couch that last Sunday, you’d had a fight about the library fine he’d gotten because of you? How could you want to switch the puzzle pieces to create a less idyllic picture of your life together, just so you wouldn’t feel so much loss when you looked at it?

She just rubs your back through it, knowing that no words can help but still saying the thing she thinks you need to hear most, “That doesn’t make you a bad person, sugar plum. That makes you human.”

***

4 months, 6 days, 14 hours.

Hotch calls you all into the briefing room.

“A few months ago a decision had to be made. Somebody had the potential to make an incredible breakthrough on a case that had been airtight for years. But it wasn’t possible for that individual to complete that work without cover. They needed to be officially gone,” Hotch’s voice booms but you swear you can hear a hesitation, “It wasn’t necessary at the time for you to have that information. Providing you with it would have compromised the safety of one of our agents, and the integrity of their investigation.”

You glance around the room, confused, noticing everyone is sharing the same bewildered look. Except Emily.

“I apologise completely for having to keep this from you, it was a decision that was not taken lately, and I did not have the final say. That being said, any discontent about this decision should be directed towards me,” he glances towards Emily, and she’s looking nervous now.

Hotch lets out a huff, somehow more tense than usual, “SSA Reid was not killed after the attack in Seattle. That was his cover, but he was investigating a case.”

He’s still talking but you can’t hear anything. SSA Reid was not killed. SSA Reid was not killed. You flip the sentence over a hundred times. And for the millionth time since SSA Reid was killed, you have no idea what you feel.

There’s uproar from everybody. Shouting. And then Hotch says something and everybody is looking at you, scanning you for a reaction and you have nothing. Nothing at all.

“Hi,” a voice from the doorway, nervous and shy, a voice you’ve only heard in dreams and voicemails and recordings from nights out that you must have watched hundreds of times by now, if they were tapes you would have worn them out long ago.

And you know you can’t face him. You can’t face any of them.

You look around the room, first at Hotch whose eyes flicker with what looks like remorse. Then, at Emily who just looks guilty as all hell. You don’t look at him. You can’t look at him.

The tension in the room is palpable but in your peripheral you see Garcia and J.J flock to the doorway, embracing him.

Rossi, is the one who comes to you, “____?”

You stare at him, completely blankly, “Yeah?”

“You need to speak to him. Need to hear him out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, allowing him to help you to your feet. His reassuring hands on your shoulders turn you around and you meet his face. The face of the boyfriend you spent the last four months mourning while everybody watched you fall apart. And half of them knew.

So that’s what you feel. Anger.

“Glad you’re back,” you snipe, pushing past him, “Glad you’re alive.”

Everybody watches you go. A tense silence fills the room. Spencer clears his throat, after what feels like an eternity, muttering, “I-I’ll go after ... I’ll go and see if I can...”

It wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, if he’s honest. Although he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting.

“____ please, just let me talk to you, I’m sorry, please just let me have a chance to explain,” He manages to catch you at the elevator just in time, slipping through the gap with his lithe body, “Please. I need to explain. I need to apologise.”

“You can apologise as much as you want. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You’ll never deserve my forgiveness.”

The venom in your tone leaves him floundering.

“___ please,” he’s begging, and you won’t look at him because you can hear the tears in his voice and he’s begging again, “Please, please look at me, please listen to me. You have to understand, you have to give me a chance to explain, please.”

You’ve never been this angry at him before. But you are now. It consumes you, you’ve never understood a crime of passion before and you’re not going to put your hands on him, of course, but fuck do you understand it now. How a person could just snap. The rage swells in you, screaming. Every muscle in your body is tense. It takes all you have to ball your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure they break the skin. You’re furious. Furious at every single one of them.

“You lied to me,” you spit, “You lied to me and let me think you were dead. You and Hotch and Emily. I didn’t sleep in our bed for four months, Spencer. I’ve spent the past four months frozen, like, I couldn’t move forward without you. I didn’t start to move on. I've spent the last four months falling apart and trying to find a way to put myself back together without you, and then what, you just come back? You think we can just go back to normal? Spencer, I didn’t feel alive this past few months. I’ve been floating through, barely keeping it together. And for what? A case? That was important enough for you to do this to me?"

It’s true, you’ve spent the last four months feeling like you were the one who died. That you were united in being ghosts, except you were haunting all the places you used to go together, and he was just haunting your dreams. And he’d been alive. This. Whole. Time.

You storm out of the lift, lifting your head to look at him for only the second time in four months, “Please. Just leave me alone. You’ve done enough.”

He knows you aren’t wrong. Knows he doesn’t know if he could forgive you if the roles were reversed. Knows, more than anything, that he’s really fucked things up. You’ll never forgive him. That’s what you said, and right now, seeing anger like never before in your eyes, he has no reason whatsoever to doubt that isn’t completely true.

You don’t even make it to the parking lot before you feel your resolve melt into absolutely nothing. Anger descending into relief, hot tears cascading down your cheeks as the mantra starts again on a new loop in your head: SSA Reid was not killed.

#spencer reid fanfic #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #bau!reader

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letsperaltiago · 2 years

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this is either a fic request or just a nice thought, depending on if you like it haha! i saw a reddit post today about a woman who said she loves finding kitchen appliances in the wrong place bc she knows that means her boyfriend must have tidied up the kitchen. she said on a stressful day, coming home and finding something in the wrong place makes her feel happy that her bf is trying to do something to make her day easier - even if he messes up a little. gave me early j&a vibes, season 3ish 🥰

this ask was sent to me ages ago and i actually worked on trying to turn it into a fic, but i know i just won't do more it so here is the wip-ish product <3

She doesn’t think too much about it… Or maybe rather she tries not to think too much about it.

Amy Santiago tries not to think too much about the fact that she loves being in a relationship - the solid, silly and amazing kind - with Jake Peralta. There's no need to overthink it.

It’s the smallest things about him and them that she usually loves the most, and if she thinks too much about it then... it drives her insane. How can a guy she’s been with for just barely 6 months mean so much to her already? Is that normal? More importantly: is it safe?

Amy always liked Jake, even before they were dating, even before she wanted to admit it to herself, but now that she has him, her deepest feelings are starting to show. Slowly, bit by bit like the iceberg in the horizon, threatening to come closer and crash into her.

No, of course she doesn’t think of their relationship as a horrible shipwreck but they did watch Titanic a few days ago and the metaphor is right there. Jake has somehow come out of nowhere, stolen her heart, like a Jack to his Rose, and Amy is all at once completely enamoured but also horribly scared of how quickly she’s falling and getting used to it.

Mainly, as already mentioned, the little things.

For example, Jake utterly, obliviously, and completely messes with her organizing and even worse her love and respect for organizing. She realizes one day coming home to her apartment after Jake has stayed the night. Even considering the fact she was going to work the following day and he was off, Jake had chosen to stay the night and in the morning he’d sent her off with a kiss (and a playful smack to the butt) before passing back out in her bed. Driving to work, Amy couldn’t help but overthink all the mess she’d come home to because untidiness was part of her boyfriend’s DNA. Yet she didn’t mind: cleaning was fun and if it meant that Jake would stick around more then she’d gladly put up with it.

It was safe to say that she was both pleasantly surprised and amused upon arriving back home to her now empty apartment.

When she walked into her home, the air was crisp, clean even, telling her that Jake had aired the apartment for her before leaving. Lucky her because she’s pretty sure that the smell of their miserably burnt popcorn from last night must’ve been hell to get rid of.

Suddenly she wonders what else he’s done. She doesn’t expect anything but maybe Jake Peralta has the potential of being a tidy boyfriend? After taking off her boots and coat, and putting them away as per usual, Amy wanders through her apartment. The blanket from last night is folded and rests across the sofa’s armrest. It could’ve been folded more neatly but Amy can’t possibly get herself to do anything about it; she’s too busy smiling from ear to ear at the idea of her boyfriend folding the huge, black plaid all by himself, to the best of his abilities.

The kitchen has been cleaned as well but she does happen to do a double-take when her eyes wander across the sight of their two mugs (yes, they have stupid matching couples’ mugs) placed, washed and clean, she notices, on top of her coffee machine. All while her logic would always be that they belong in the cupboard, Amy can also see it from her boyfriend’s point of view: what do you use mugs for? Coffee. Where do you make the coffee? Coffee machine. Thus mugs and machine belong together.

She snaps a picture of it and sends it to him right away.

Amy: Never thought of doing this but it somehow makes sense.

A few moments later her phone pings.

Jake: oh ames welcome to the wonderfully logical world of jake peralta

She chuckles at it before heading for further exploration of her own home. Besides it being tidy as usual (almost up to her own very high standards), she doesn’t notice much. The bed is made, the shower scraped clean, and his dirty clothes in her laundry basket. She’s told him it’s okay to leave behind for her to wash since he always does the same when she leaves something behind at his place, and so far he’s only turned two items another color.

Although later she comes across more puzzling yet amusing surprises. One is when she’s casually looking for her reading glasses and can’t find them when she suddenly comes across them… lying next to her toothbrush. She’s even more curious now and sends him a picture.

Amy: What is the logic behind this?

Jake: You always read in bed before going to sleep. You always brush your teeth right before getting into bed. I thought it was normal to pair the two?

Wow, she’s obviously smiling and blushing so hard and if he had been there with her then he definitely would’ve teased her about it. Jake Peralta has a wonderfully weird brain and she’s slowly, bit by bit, falling more and more in love with it.

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bucky-hues · 3 years

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sambucky fic recs

hellooo!! i've been wanting to do a sambucky fic rec, so i thought i'd do one for @fuckyeahsambucky ‘s fic yeah friday! here are some sambucky fics i love <3 do read the warnings on each fic!

one-shots

when i'm in a room with you (that missing piece is found) | @omg-just-peachy

sam x bucky

Three times Bucky falls asleep on Sam, and one time Sam asks why.

double dare | @omg-just-peachy

sam x bucky

Bucky follows his therapist’s advice to cultivate friendship, Sam makes him work for it, and by the time he’s sure they’re friends, Bucky has an entirely new problem on his hands.

press conference | @sammy-souffle

sam x bucky

Sam watches from a distance a journalist from Denver, Summer, puts her hand on Bucky’s arm and laughs at something he says. Her hand trails further up and squeezes his bicep which Bucky doesn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, he laughs along with her and leans in closer to her to say something. Sam closes his eyes briefly and swallows back his anger.

accidentally | @sammy-souffle

sam x bucky

x | @sammy-souffle

sam x bucky

request: during the time when sam is tracking bucky in romania, after sam and bucky get caught up in a fight against some hydra agents who were also tracking bucky

sam gets hurt and bucky feels guilty so he carries him inside to patch him up, they talk some stuff out, its all very intimate and both start to fall for each other a little

acquiring alpine | @sammy-souffle

sam x bucky

prompt: alpine being cute

x | @sammy-souffle (18+)

sam x bartender!bucky (modern au)

regrets | @sammy-souffle

sam x bucky

x | @jeffersonshattricks

sam x bucky

Bucky being completely oblivious that him and Sam have been dating for like 6 months and Bucky finally understands why Sam has been kissing him, sleeping in the bed with him, and being an all around sap with him.

reckless idiots tend to fall | @jeffersonshattricks

sam x bucky

Bucky and Sam are arguing cause Sam did something reckless on a mission and Bucky freaks out but oblivious Sam genuinely has no idea why. And then Bucky accidentally yells ‘because I love you’

tell me a secret | @jeffersonshattricks

sam x bucky

Every time Sam gets drunk he finds Bucky and asks him for a secret. Bucky always gives him one.

fucking ridiculous | @jeffersonshattricks

sam x bucky

Sam is pining and a bitter grumpy grump, Bucky is mostly oblivious but also pining. misunderstandings happen, feelings get hurt, people get hurt (like physically), and then confessions happen and all is well. yay! also the other avengers are just their nerdy selves for the most part!

come to the ocean, even when you're broken | @liminalmess

sam x bucky

“Bucky, hey, man, fancy meeting you here!” he said with an exaggerated enthusiasm that he probably knew would get under Bucky’s skin, clapping him on the shoulder as he sat down.

“I thought we were taking separate vacations,” Bucky grumbled back.

Or, in which Sam and Bucky go an accidentally not separate vacation to the Bahamas.

feelings | @yaksomins

sam x bucky (modern au)

sam crossed his arms and inspected the lobby. they were indeed the only people there, not including the few staff members seated at a table near a magenta-tinted arcade area with their noses buried in their phones.

"i think i can help with that," a voice said from behind sam.

sam turned and found himself face to face with the clerk they'd bought their tickets from earlier, the scruffy-looking man that seemed a little out of place amongst the younger staff. sam gave him a quick scan, his eyes catching the name plastered to his chest via a paper name tag, scribbled by hand using a marker.

"and what exactly can you do for us...bucky?" sam frowned. what kind of name was ‘bucky’?

"i can be your extra," he said, removing a hairband from his wrist and swiftly tying up his hair into a tidy bun. with more of him now visible, sam could get a better view of his face, all hard lines and soft eyes. "and it's a nickname," bucky added, smirking and moving past a puzzled sam towards the game room. "c'mon, let's suit up."

x | @yaksomins

sam x bucky

prompt: leaving each other notes

x | @yaksomins

sam x bucky

bucky takes sam for a ride on his motorcycle

i'll make this feel like home | @buckywilsonbarnes

sam x bucky

sambucky domestic fluff

x | @transjoaquintorres

sam x bucky

sam loves bucky's handwriting

just let me adore you | dharmainitiative (AO3)

sam x bucky

“Alright, what gives?” Sam demands. “Why do you turn down every single person I try to set you up with?”

He expects Bucky to avoid the question, come up with all sorts of excuses. What he doesn’t expect is for Bucky to start laughing.

“C’mon, Sam. Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

“Sam,” Bucky finally says, slow and deliberate. “I’m not interested in anyone you’ve tried to set me up with because I’ve been gone on you for ages.”

watch your words | dancer_in_the_rain (AO3)

sam x bucky

sam insults bucky and then loses his shit when someone agrees with him

love, punch | @clintbartonswife

sam x bucky

Bucky can get protective, but Sam reminds him he doesn’t need to be defended - a confession is made

exchange rate | @joycesully

sam x bucky

Bucky's older memories are coming back, sometimes at the cost of more recent ones. What he cannot forget is tearing the wings off Sam Wilson. Too bad Bucky just let Steve talk him into staying with him and Sam. Consumed by guilt, the only thing Bucky knows to do by way of apology is to let Sam hurt him back. Fortunately, Sam has better ideas.

stubborn wounds | @constantwriter85

sam x bucky

When Bucky’s badly injured after trying to protect his partner, Sam realizes that he needs Bucky more than he’d care to admit.

nurturing | the_buzz (AO3)

sam x bucky (pre-slash)

Bucky isn't the only one who feels alone after coming back from the Blip.

keep the ashes from my heart (and walk away) | @coffeeinallcaps

sam x bucky

In which Sam starts dating someone who is not Bucky, and Bucky pines, gets seriously injured, and proves himself wrong.

you're blowin' my mind (with the things you say to me) | @jemgirl86

sam x bucky

After getting an earful from Bucky at the cookout, Sarah suggests Sam and Bucky have a chat... and they do.

(sometimes) all i think about is you | @softhauntedwinds

sam x bucky

Bucky discovers Sam Wilson's pre-blip media content and things escalate.

when the wheels come off (i'll be your spare) | @returnsandreturns

sam x bucky

“What, the government doesn’t pay you enough to buy some art?” Bucky asks, a minute after Sam lets him into his apartment, gesturing at the blank walls. “It still looks like you just moved in.”

“Uhm, I’ve been busy being a national treasure,” Sam says. “The government doesn’t pay you enough to buy a shirt that fits?”

Bucky glances down at his long sleeve t-shirt for a second before he looks back up with a grin.

“I’m just a part-timer,” he says, shrugging.

forever and a day | @returnsandreturns

sam x bucky

When he sets the needle, Ella Fitzgerald croons and he glances over to see Sam sitting up, looking interested as she sings it’s very clear. . .our love is here to stay.

Bucky can flirt and he can really tell that he’s still got it by the way Sam’s mouth drops open for a moment when he saunters up and offers a hand, smiling with all the potential of where this could lead and asking, “Care for a dance, doll?”

Sam stares up at him before he sighs and mutters, “Fuck, that’s really working for me somehow,” and lets Bucky pull him onto his feet and into his arm.

world's greatest uncle | @novembermurray

sam x bucky

Rhodes arrives in Delacroix to bring Sam up to speed on their newest mission and deliver the bad news: Bucky Barnes has gone AWOL. He's in for a few surprising discoveries.

panic | alienspronkles (AO3)

sam x bucky

When Sam and Bucky go to Sarah's place for a get together, Bucky's anxiety starts kicking in. And he's trying to hide it from everyone there.

series

sam and bucky first date 2: electric boogaloo | ObsessiveExplosion (AO3)

sam x bucky

Sam is gearing up to ask Bucky on their first date, but he is interrupted by a bullet wound to the shoulder.

sam and bucky go to a fourth of july party | ObsessiveExplosion (AO3)

sam x bucky

Sam and Bucky, recently engaged, make an appearance at the annual Delacroix Fourth of July Block Party, and Sam ends up partying a little too hard.

the gang navigates and airport | ObsessiveExplosion (AO3)

sam x bucky

Sam and Bucky have to navigate an unexpected layover on their way home from a mission, made more difficult by the fact that Bucky has just taken a sleeping pill designed for Super Soldiers.

he followed me home one day | AshaCrone (AO3)

sam x bucky (au)

He was supposed to be starting fresh.

Sam Wilson was moving from New York to Washington and picked the worst possible Friday to finish his move. But he does what he does best- stops to help.

And asks a passing stranger for a little muscle to get some trapped people out of a car. Feeds the stranger a protein bar.

Now a lost cyborg has followed him home. And he isn't quite sure what to do about it.

#sambucky fic #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sambucky #fysbfriday #fysambuckyweek

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elminx · 3 years

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Happy August!

August is a 4 Universal month (8 (August) + 5 (2021) = 13 = 1 + 3 = 4) in a 5 universal year. With both Venus and Mars currently transiting Virgo, the energy is strong this month to get organized and/or get yourself back on track for your 2021 goals.

The setup: Saturn in Aquarius and Uranus in Taurus are still square to one another and will be through December and into 2022. Pluto in Capricorn, Jupiter in Aquarius, and Neptune in Pisces are lined up ~30 degrees apart from each other. We have four plants plus an asteroid retrograde throughout August: Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune, Pluto, and Chiron. This signifies a more "yin" energy signature that is out of alignment with the forceful fire energy of Leo season.

The TL:DR: As the Sun and Mercury transit Leo, they are going to relight up our fixed t-square involving Saturn and Uranus early in the month. You may be able to break through the big blocks in your life during this time but only if you can step away from your ego. This month is full of mixed messages and misunderstandings - we are all trying to figure out our new lives right now, give yourself and your others a metric fuckton of space. The work you put into your life is what you will get back out of it - go slow and keep putting one foot in front of the other. Expecting expedited results is a recipe for disaster.

There's a lot going on in the cosmos this month - there's rarely a day that is aspect-free and they are, for the most part, challenging. This has to do with our lineup of outer planets - see the details for more information.

The Nitty Gritty:

As we enter August, our Sun-Mercury conjunction is lighting up our long-term square between Saturn in Aquarius and Uranus in Taurus. This is our unstoppable force (Uranus) meets immovable object (Saturn) energy. Something has got to give to make way for the After. Much of how August plays out for you will likely be dictated by how you have been working with and processing this long-term aspect.

If 2020's motto was "Change Before You Have To", this Saturn-Uranus square is the "Have To". Uranus is the lightning on the Tower card - the change that is unavoidable. All you can control is how you react to the change.

Yeah, that's probably a terrifying concept. I get it. But I also firmly believe that when you stand aware in the middle of the maelstrom, that's where the true magic happens. In the moment of liminality, anything is possible.

August is the maelstrom. This shouldn't really come as a surprise but I guess that some people have their heads really far inside the sands. The storm never ended, we just got a brief reprieve. I hope that you all took good advantage of it - I know that I did.

For the rest of the month, all of our personal planets will be making complicated aspects to our outer planets - this is because of the angles. It's definitely echoing the roller coaster vibe of 2021's "5" energy - you'll see that continue next month as September is a 5 month in a 5 year.

Expect epic highs and abysmal lows. Probably to have your stomach drop out from under you at least once. There's a lot going on, try to harness Mars in Virgo's ability to roll with it and worry about figuring out the details later. Mars in Virgo is very in line with August's 4 energy: make a list but keep it open-ended, show up and do the work. Amanda of Wise Skies Advice called this month "Focus Pocus" and I'm in agreement there - what you focus on grows.

There's a lot of magic to be found in August, but you need to keep your focus. If you get wrapped up in your emotions, or worse, the rising collective fear, it will be easy to lose your way. Don't feed the monster. This is especially true for empaths and other highly sensitive persons.

Dates to Pay Attention To

8/1: Sun conjunct Mercury in Leo, Mercury opposed Saturn - thoughts will be very close to the surface and potentially heavy. Watch out for the stories you tell yourself, especially about Saturnian topics: government, contracts, money, marriage - this will be in effect all through the first week of August and through the new moon

8/2: Sun opposed Saturn, Moon square Mars - this is likely to be a frustrating day. Where do you need to slow down? Where have you been pushing in a direction that is only resistance?

8/3: Venus trine Uranus, Moon square Venus - the anecdote to this malaise is to try something new

8/6: Sun square Uranus - watch out. Lie low. Stay away with explosives - observe that physically as well as metaphorically. Where is your ego getting in the way of what you need?

8/8: New Moon at 16 Leo conjunct Mercury - Depending on how comfortable you are with Mercury energy, this moon may feel enlightening or anxiety-making. Practice good self-care - soothe your system with calming crystals or nervine tea if you need to.

8/9: Venus opposed Neptune retrograde: that lie may come due today - watch out for dishonesty, especially with yourself

8/10: Mercury opposed Jupiter retrograde: What is your inner truth? What do you believe? Does it align with what you know now? What needs to be re-evaluated? Again, how you perceive this will likely have a lot to do with your relationship with Mercury.

8/11: Mercury enters Virgo, Venus trine Pluto retrograde - Mercury is at home in Virgo - expect communication to become more orderly and precise over the next three weeks. The Divine Feminine may be experiencing a rebirth at this time.

8/14: Moon in Scorpio square Saturn retrograde in Aquarius - this lights up that Saturn-Uranus square...again. Watch out, friction is likely to be high.

8/16: Venus enters Libra, Moon square Mercury, Moon square Mars - Venus is at home in the sign of Libra, expect some of our focus to be on our relationships (of all kinds) during this transit. The energy of the day will likely be volatile and moody. Both your words and your actions may be misunderstood at this time - exercise caution.

8/17 Sun in Leo trine Moon in Sag, Moon square Neptune retrograde - a lovely fire trine but watch out for illusions - all that glitters may not be gold

8/18: Mercury conjunct Mars in Virgo - work for it. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Slow and steady wins this race.

8/19: Sun opposed Jupiter retrograde, Uranus retrograde at 14 Taurus, Moon conjunct Pluto - The energy is likely to feel at once larger than life and impossibly deep. Whether you enjoy this will have a lot to do with your personality and comfort levels. It's always wise to go slow when a major planet like Uranus retrograde but Sun opposed Jupiter may not let us do that.

8/20: Mercury trine Uranus, Moon trine Venus, Moon conjunct Saturn - you might get flashes of insight at this time but it is unlikely that you will be able to implement them just yet. Hold tight. This day also lights up our Saturn-Uranus square - stay aware and cautious. Avoid arguments.

8/22: Full Moon at 29 Aquarius, Mars trine Uranus, Sun enters Virgo - this is wildcard energy, engage with care. This again activates our Saturn-Uranus square - stay aware and stay cautious.

8/23: Venus trine Saturn retrograde, Moon opposed Mars, Moon conjunct Neptune retrograde- emotions, especially around close relationships, are likely close to the surface. You may not have all of the information or may be lying to yourself.

8/24: Mercury opposed Neptune retrograde: another big reveal - watch the news, listen carefully to what the people in your life are saying

8/25: Moon in Aries opposed Venus in Libra - moooooody. Remember great things happen when you stop being a moody cow. Give your others a break.

8/26: Mercury trine Pluto retrograde, Venus in Libra opposed Chiron retrograde in Aries - the new message is one of independence and accountability, do you hear it yet? What part of you needs to be reborn to get you on track?

8/27: Moon conjunct Uranus, Moon square Saturn: the moon activates our square again today - same old - be cautious - this is happening 4x every month right now, it's not "new news" just something to stay aware of

8/29: Mercury enters Libra: this isn't a great placement for Mercury. The idea of giving two sides equal air time without account for its truthfulness is a failing of Mercury in Libra thinking. Watch out for overthinking and analysis paralysis.

Do you like my work? Please consider supporting my writing by Buying Me A KoFi.

#witchblr #words #mine #energy update #astrology #transits #August 2021 #Leo season #Saturn square Uranus #healing through astrology #numerology

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

“If you want me to, I will.” [Hotch x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: Reader has worked for Aaron Hotchner for the past 6 months as the babysitter to his son, Jack.

Pairing: Hotch x (Female) Reader

Word Count: 7.4k – she thicc

Category: Smut/Fluff…and some angst because of who I am as a person.

Content Warning:

A/n: We all know that Hotch’s favorite album is the Beatles "White Album." And I have odd choices for songs that I use as lullabies. This idea came into my head and never left. This video of Billie Eillish singing part of the song is the closest to the structure of how I imagined it. Okay, okay, look, I know Roy wasn’t diagnosed until season 10. But I am taking creative liberties because I needed Jack to be younger.

Meaning this would be set around season 7. Hotch would be about 41, Jack is around 7; so, I made Reader around 26, giving them a 15-year age gap. Please don’t check my math. 😌

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized texts are Reader’s thoughts.

-- If you want me to, I will. --

I was disoriented when I woke up. This isn’t my bed, I thought groggily. Wait…this isn’t even my house.

“Y/n,” a deep voice rumbled beside me.

I jackknifed up into a sitting position, eyes wide and my face flushed with embarrassment. “Mr. Hotchner!” I quickly brought my hand up to my cheek to make sure I hadn’t drooled in my sleep. Because that would really be the cherry on top of my embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep. This is so embarrassing.”

Mr. Hotchner had been crouched down, putting himself level with his living room couch; the same couch he came home and found me sleeping on. In all the months I’d worked for the Hotchner/Brooks family, I’d never seen Mr. Hotchner smile anytime he wasn’t talking to his son, Jack. He always looked incredibly serious and sometimes incredibly sad; but the normal scowl was missing from his face as he looked at me, I noticed, watching him rise to a standing position.

“It’s fine, y/n. It’s after 1 o’clock in the morning.” He shifted, turning to go open the gun safe he kept in the part of the living room where his desk sat. Mr. Hotchner, or Hotch, as he kept telling me to call him, was the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit with the FBI. Which was just a very fancy way of saying he was a profiler that was in charge of all the other profilers. Some people just look like the jobs they have; Mr. Hotchner was one of those people. “Thank you for staying late, I didn’t think things were going to run this long. I didn’t even know you were here until I called Jessica a few hours ago.”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled as I began to gather my things from the coffee table and put them into my bag. “She called me a little after 4; something happened with her dad, I think.” I zipped my bag shut, standing up quickly. “I didn’t mind helping out, Mr. Hotchner.”

He made a sound that was almost a chuckle. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Hotchner, y/n. I know I’m a lot older than you, but that makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” I protested.

He looked incredulous. “Y/n, you’re still in college.”

Well, that stings a bit. “I’m in graduate school,” I said, my voice dampening a little bit. “I’m almost 27.”

Mr. Hotchner blinked at me. “Really? I thought you were younger than that…”

“My age didn’t come up in the numerous background checks you did on me?” I scoffed, immediately wincing as the words flew out of my mouth. “Oh my god, I just keep making this worse.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner. For falling asleep on your couch…and for every moment after that. I’ll just go now.”

"Y/n," he called. "hang on, it's really late, and…I still need to pay you."

Jesus. “It is late, Mr. Hotchner, that’s why I need to head home.” I forced an awkward laugh. “I have class at 9 am.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, regarding me in a way that made me squirm. I wasn’t used to a person paying attention to me the way Mr. Hotchner did. It didn’t make me uneasy; I just felt like I couldn’t hide anything from him…which made me uneasy. “What classes are you taking this semester?”

I don’t know why it stung so much that he knew virtually nothing about me. I’d worked for him for 6 months; he wasn’t obligated to know anything about me other than how I took care of his son. “I’m actually done with my course work this semester,” I mumbled. “I’m a TA…in a class that starts at 9 am.” It doesn’t matter, you’re just tired. “You-you can just pay me for tonight the next time I’m over. It’s not like you’re gonna stiff me.” I walked over to the door and threw a very quick “goodnight, Mr. Hotchner” over my shoulder before I scurried out.

I missed the quiet “Aaron. You can call me Aaron.”

The entire drive home, my thoughts were on Aaron Hotchner. None of this was what I expected when I took this job. I had been in graduate school for 2 years now. I had already gotten my master’s degree and had been accepted into the Ph.D. program. There are many branches of psychology, but I had always been fascinated with cognitive psychology; it seemed only natural that that is what I would pursue in graduate school. Once it became time to focus my interest in preparation for my dissertation, I decided to study the cognitive decay in Alzheimer's patients. We knew that they lost memories, but I wanted to explore how their basic cognitive functions were affected in certain settings.

As part of my program, I was a TA in an intro psych class, and I conducted my research at the hospital connected to the university. That’s where I first met Jessica Brooks. Despite getting a stipend for my teaching assistant work, I had been taking odd jobs to help make ends meet; D.C. wasn't cheap. When I mentioned that I had experience with kids, Jessica had immediately told me that she was needing help caring for her nephew in the wake of her father, Roy's diagnosis. She wanted to keep him at home, which was both admirable and time-consuming.

I wasn’t prepared for the gigantic background check that I was subjected to. I very quickly learned that my potential employer had some power at the FBI. Jessica had raved to him about me, so he agreed to meet with me. When Jessica told me he worked for the FBI, I was expecting a bureaucrat, kind of short, receding hairline, soft from sitting behind a desk all day.

Aaron Hotchner was none of those things. He was a total cliché; he was tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes were such a deep brown they were almost black, his hair was black, and he towered over me. His hand was firm when he shook mine. I initially thought he didn’t like me because of the scowl he wore on his face; now I knew that was just his default expression. I’m pretty sure he invented Resting Bitch Face. I think it was my meeting with Jack that sealed the deal. We had clicked right away. The 7-year-old was impressed by my knowledge of both DC and Marvel comics. I could still remember our first meeting so clearly; when in a move that I now know is so much like his father, he had asked me an interview question of his own.

“What is Spiderman’s middle name?” the boy had asked with a suspicious squint of his eyes.

This kid is poser checking me, I had thought with amusement. “That would depend on which Spiderman you’re referring to. Assuming it’s Peter Parker, his middle name is Benjamin.”

We were best friends after that.

I loved Jack; I really did. And I was paid well enough that he was the only child I babysat for, the rest of my time spent working on my research and plotting my dissertation. It was clear that Aaron Hotchner loved his son, and he felt guilty for not being around more. He was fierce and intimidating any other time, but once he was with his son, his entire face would transform. His smiles came easier, his eyes twinkled, and he didn’t seem so scary anymore.

None of that is why he made me nervous, though. What made me so nervous is the fear that one day I was going to spend enough time with him for him to see the feelings I had so stupidly developed for him.

The very next night, I was hiding in the kitchen floor in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment.

“Ready or not, here I come!” the little voice called out before his feet started stomping loudly across the floor.

From my position behind the kitchen counter, I tried very hard to remain silent, despite my amusement. Jack Hotchner was many wonderful, wonderful things. Sneaky was not one of them. Which is why I wasn’t surprised when I heard his little feet hurry towards me, and I didn’t lose my balance when he turned the corner and launched himself at me. “Oomph!” was the only reasonable sound to make when a tiny human slammed into you.

Jack was delighted. “I FOUND YOU!”

My response was cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Jack was off me in a flash, barreling towards the living room. “Daddy!”

Mr. Hotchner made a similar “oomph” noise when Jack jumped on him, confirming my theory. I rose to my feet quickly, smoothing down my clothes.

“We were playing hide and seek, Daddy!” Jack informed his father. “I found y/n every time! She never found me once!” His chest puffed out with pride, making my face break into a smile.

“You’re just an excellent hider, Jack-attack.”

Mr. Hotchner’s eyes settled on my face then, for just a moment I saw something so sad in those eyes that the breath seized in my lungs.

He cleared his throat, seeming to shake off whatever he was thinking before smiling at his son. “I’m glad you had a good time with, y/n, buddy.”

Jack nodded vigorously. “I helped make dinner!”

“You did?” He questioned in fake astonishment. “When did you make dinner?”

“Tonight!”

Mr. Hotchner looked at me quizzically. “Oh, um, I wasn’t actually supposed to watch Jack tonight…but Jessica called and asked if I could. It was really last minute, and she’d already bought some stuff to make dinner…” I trailed off. “I hope that’s okay. Jesus Christ, y/n. You’re a 26-year-old woman, get it together.

His attention moved from me to his son. "Jack, go get changed into your pj's. It's almost bedtime." When Jack's mouth opened to protest this great injustice, his father went on. "You can tell y/n bye when you're done."

So much for a speedy escape, I thought. Instead, I just smiled at him. "Yep, I'll be right here, little man." Satisfied with this, Jack jumped out of his father's arms and ran towards his room.

“Why did Jessica need you to come over? Did something happen with Roy?” He looked genuinely worried, walking into the kitchen to stand near me.

I reached out and put a hand on his arm without thinking. "Oh, oh god no, nothing like that." Realizing I was touching him, I snatched my hand back like he'd burned me. "Sorry. She…she-um had a date."

His eyebrows rose so high they almost hit his hairline. “A date?” he asked, disbelief dripping from his words.

I chuckled. “That’s what she told me.”

He walked back into the living room then, leaning back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he focused his dark gaze on me. “What about you?”

“…What about me what?”

“Does Jessica ever have to cover for you when you have dates?”

If Aaron Hotchner hadn’t made me so nervous, I might have picked up on how he phrased that question. As it happens, all I could do was fidget under his gaze. “Oh,” I chuckled nervously. “Ah, no. She doesn’t have to do that. I don’t really date.”

That had one of his eyebrows rising, his arms crossing across his chest. "Why?"

Because I want you to crack my back like a glowstick. “Um…you know, it’s hard to find the time.”

Thankfully Jack chose that moment to come barreling out of his room, charging full force at me. “You’re still here!” he exclaimed.

I smiled down at him when his arms wrapped around my hips. I put one hand on the back of his head, the other on his back, giving him a squeeze. “Of course I am! I couldn’t leave without telling you goodbye.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he mumbled.

My throat worked as a sudden wave of emotion hit me. "Oh, Jack," my voice was thicker than usual when I spoke. "I don't like leaving you either, but you'll see me before you know it. I promise."

Once we had finally pried Jack off me, Mr. Hotchner went to take him to bed. He turned to me when he scooped Jack up in his arms. “Thank you for today.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Hotchner.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “Most people call me Hotch. Or you could call me Aaron.”

I didn't know what to say to that; all I could do was give him an awkward smile. I was gone before he came back into the living room. I didn't want to leave, I never did, but I couldn't risk being alone with…Aaron.

The following Thursday night, my phone started ringing just after 11:30. Glancing at it, I saw it was Jessica. “Hey,” I said in greeting.

“Hey, y/n,” she said, sounding frazzled. “I have a huge favor to ask. Dad’s home health nurse had to leave early tonight.” “Is something wrong with Melinda?” I hope not. She’s the sweetest.

“No, I don’t think so. But she needs to go home and there’s no one to sit with Jack. But Aaron isn’t home yet…”

“I’ll be there in 20.”

Which is why I was now in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment after midnight in a pair of shorts that were so short I only ever wore them at home and a t-shirt that I had had for forever. Jessica had sounded so upset when she called, I hadn't even thought to change. She had promised to be back as quick as she could; she said that Mr. Hotchner was flying back from a case, and she didn’t expect him until 5 a.m. at the earliest.

When I first arrived, I had tried to watch TV, my mind too wired to sleep, even though I had class at 9 am in the morning. Sighing, I glanced over at the clock to see it was just after 1:45 in the morning.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I whined out loud. I have to go to sleep; even if it’s just a little nap. I remembered Jessica had left some chamomile tea here for the nights she stayed over to watch Jack. Finding the kettle and the tea itself was no problem; the problem presented itself when I had to get a mug to put the tea in.

I had never considered myself a particularly short person; sure, I had to stretch to get things from time to time, but everybody did that. Looking up into the upper cabinets in the Hotchner house had me reconsidering that. The mugs were on the very top shelf and try as I might, I just couldn’t seem to reach them; my fingers kept grazing over the ceramic.

“Goddamnit,” I mumbled in a huff. What is the point to put mugs way the fuck up there? Some of us are a perfectly normal height…but noooo I have to work for giants. I braced my hands on the countertop as I heaved myself up on to said countertop. Once my knees were in place, I got the offending cup without further problems.

I blame how focused I was on my task for my not hearing the front door open, or the footsteps that followed. Which is why I had a mild heart attack when I heard a voice that sounded highly amused say from behind me, “What are you doing?”

Several things happened all at once, and very quickly. I let out the most embarrassing squeak in all of history, I lost my balance on the counter and the cup fell from my hand. The cup crashed to the floor and shattered. My fate might have been the same but two large hands caught me, gripping my hips from behind. I looked down to see his long fingers wrapping around my waist, gripping me tightly; my difficulty breathing then had nothing to do with how scared I was.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said softly, still not releasing me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I get it,” I said lightly, attempting to act like I wasn’t going into cardiac arrest because he was touching me. “You’re a very stealthy FBI agent. It was bound to happen.”

He chuckled before his hands pushed my hips so I was twisting around, my legs shifting until I was sitting on the countertop, staring into the same dark eyes I thought about far too often. They weren’t as harsh as they usually were; tonight, they were soft and warm, and they made my pulse race a bit faster.

I moved to get off the counter when the hands that were still on my hips stopped me. “Hang on, let me clean this up first. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Fantastic, I thought, hiding my face in my hands. It seems I was incapable of not making a fool out of myself in front of this man.

He worked quickly while I debated changing my name and fleeing the country; in the next moment, he was standing in front of me again. "What's wrong?"

“Oh, nothing,” I said, not moving my hands. “Just dying of embarrassment.”

Aaron actually laughed at that, moving closer to stand between my thighs, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of my hips. “Why are you embarrassed?”

I dropped my hands then. “Because this is becoming a pattern! First, I fell asleep on your couch, then I almost fell off your counter and cracked my head like an egg.” I bit my lip, shifting under his gaze. “I’m sorry and thank you for catching me.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said softly.

He still had that soft look on his face, but he was smiling too like he was enjoying my embarrassment. He probably is. I had never been this close to him before. I didn’t know his eyes weren’t just one flat color of brown, but that lighter shades of brown whirled throughout. I had never felt the heat of his body before, but now I was so close I could smell him. Why does he have to smell good? I whined internally. If he just stunk, I could get over this.

This was exactly why I tried very hard to stay as far away from him as possible because I lost the ability to think clearly whenever I was with him. I couldn't stop my eyes from moving down to his lips. I was eye level with him from my position on the counter; all I had to do to brush my lips across his was lean forward, so that’s exactly what I did. His body stiffened slightly at the first touch of my lips to his. I pulled back, ready to apologize when his hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled me back to him. There was nothing soft about this kiss. His free hand gripped my thigh, my hands held on to his shirt, trying to pull him closer. My tongue brushed against his mouth before he sucked on the tip of it, causing me to shudder. He took a step forward as his tongue twirled around mine. I could feel him when he settled against me; he was hard, and I found myself shifting my hips to rub against him.

The shrill ringing of his phone broke us apart suddenly. He was panting, his cheeks were slightly flushed. I thought I heard him let out a “fuck” under his breath as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone.

“Hey Jessica,” he answered.

Now that our moment was broken, I felt very self-conscious. What the fuck did I just do?! He is my boss. He is Jack’s dad. Aaron took a step back and I slid off the counter. This turned out to be a very bad idea on my part; my body brushed down the front of his, causing me to bite my lip to silence the moan that threatened to escape.

“Yeah, I landed a little while ago,” he said as I left the kitchen.

WhatthefuckWhatthefuck. I heard him end the call with Jessica before he quickly walked into the living room. A look of relief washed over his face when he saw me. “I thought you’d try to slip away.”

“I thought about it,” I told him honestly.

“Listen, y/n, about that in the kitchen,” he began.

I held up my hands. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hotchner. I don’t know why I did that; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” I was giving him an out because I couldn’t handle hearing the rejection I knew was coming. “I just…I guess we got caught up in the moment? And you’re really tired, I’m sure. I’m so sorry.” I was rambling now. “If you don’t want me to watch Jack anymore-“

“Y/n, no,” he interrupted. “No, this…you’re right, it was just a heat of the moment thing. It happens. I’m sorry I lost myself for a moment.” He cleared his throat, his face still set in softness. “Jack loves you. He doesn’t need to suffer for any more of my mistakes.”

Mistakes. The word hollowed me out and left me cold. I just nodded. “Right,” I said in what I hoped was an even tone. “Just a mistake. I should get going. It’s really late.”

Which is how I found myself driving home at almost 3 in the morning with tears running down my cheeks. A mistake.

Things went back to normal after that night. I continued to avoid Aaron Hotchner at all costs and he…did whatever he did. I tried to hide the hurt whenever I did happen to see him, but it was so hard when I could still feel the tingle from his lips on mine.

A few days after the “mistake,” I was babysitting Jack again. He’d went to bed at his normal 8:30 and all was quiet. I decided to do some TA work while I waited for Mr. Hotchner to come home. I was halfway through grading an essay when I heard the first noise come from Jack’s room. Lifting my fingers from the keys of my computer, I waited to see if I heard another sound. I didn’t have to wait long; not even a minute passed before I heard a strained cry. Jumping up, I hurried down the hall to Jack’s bedroom.

Cracking the door open I called, “Jack-attack? Are you okay, little man?” I didn’t see him right away; he had hidden under his covers and curled up into a little ball. “Hey, Jack. It’s just y/n.” I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I saw the lump under the blankets start to move hesitantly before I saw his brown hair peak out of the blanket near his pillow. His eyes were wide and with the light shining in from the hall, I could see tears gleam in them. “Oh, buddy,” I cooed. “Did you have a bad dream?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah…there was a bad man…and my daddy didn’t come save me.”

I felt my breath seize in my chest. Jessica had told me a brief version of what happened to Jack's mother a few years ago. "Jack, you know your dad would always do whatever he had to do to come to save you." I shifted my position on the bed until I was sitting beside him. "He'd never let anything bad happen to you." Jack started inching closer to me. I held out my arms and smiled when he lunged for me; I wrapped him in a tight hug, rubbing circles on his back.

“My dad just isn’t home a lot anymore. He has a lot of work to do,” he mumbled into my shirt.

“Your dad would be home if he could, Jack.” I couldn’t quite keep the sadness out of my voice. It wasn’t fair to either Jack or his dad that he had to be away so much.

“I know,” the little boy whispered. “I just miss him sometimes.”

“Do you want to call him?” I offered. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

Jack just shook his head. “No, it’s okay.” He turned his face up to look at me. “Will you stay with me?”

I moved so he lay beside me with my left arm still squeezed around him. “Of course, bud.” I scooted down the bed so I was reclining instead of sitting straight up, pulling the cover-up over him again. "Do you want me to read you another story?"

He just shuffled under his covers, looking at me with the bashful innocence of childhood. “Can you sing to me until I fall asleep?”

I wasn’t the biggest fan of singing in front of people, but how could I turn this little face down? I just nodded. “Do you have any requests?”

“Nope,” he answered with a little grin on his face.

Unfortunately, at that moment every single lullaby I had ever know left my head. I couldn’t think of a single traditional lullaby. So, I decided to improvise. I started singing slower songs I knew, some of them might not have been appropriate for a 7-year-old’s lullaby, but I don’t think Jack cared that much.

He was almost out, drifting on the edge between deep sleep and awake. My arm was still around his shoulder, he was still snuggled to my side. I decided one more song would be enough, which meant I pulled out my second Beatles song of the night.

“Who knows how long I’ve loved you?

You know I love you still.

Will I wait a lonely lifetime?

If you want me to, I will.

For if I ever saw-“

I glanced up, immediately sensing there was someone else in the room. To my horror, Jack’s father was standing in the doorway, staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I swallowed nervously, then I turned to press a kiss against Jack’s soft forehead before I gently detangled myself from him. I straightened my clothes that to my further embarrassment had shifted around because I was laying with a wiggly child, then, attempting to keep my face impassive, I walked to the door, moving around his father as I exited.

Mr. Hotchner walked into the room and checked on his son, while I moved into the living room to gather my things. I wonder if he just left the money by the door, I mused. If he did, I could just make a dash for the door. I mean, if he didn’t, he could always just pay me next time. Sadly, my plans were escape were foiled yet again by the man in question entering the room.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I know he was up past his bedtime. I put him down at 8, but he had a nightmare." I was babbling, not meeting his eyes, my gaze very intently focused on my bag. "He asked me to stay with him until he fell asleep…" I finally looked up, shrugged, and said, "He's very hard to say no to."

“You don’t have to apologize for being nice to my son, y/n,” he said softly. “That’s one of my favorite songs on the White Album, you know.”

I hadn’t known that. “Mr. Hotch-“

He took a step towards me before I finished speaking. “Y/n, please, I can barely handle this as it is. Please call me Aaron.”

I just blinked up at him. “So, ‘Hotch’ is off the table now?”

That had a soft smile curving his lips upward. "That was a limited-time deal. You should have been quicker." I saw his hand rise up slowly, so slowly that I would have had time to move away…but I just couldn’t. He brushed my hair back from my face, his eyes were two pools of black in the dim light, they were swirling with something that made my stomach flutter.

“Aaron,” I breathed, having no idea what I was going to say.

He let out a soft sigh, turning his eyes upwards. When he brought them back down to mine, his hand slid from its place near my ear to cradle the back of my head. His eyes searched mine for a moment before his shoulders dropped slightly. “Fuck it,” he muttered before he leaned down and sealed his lips over mine.

I might have thought this kiss would be questioning or unsure, but there was nothing unsure about it. Aaron kissed me like he was starving for me. His teeth caught my bottom lip and tugged as he pulled away. “It wasn’t a mistake,” he breathed before bringing his lips more firmly against mine.

My hands began to move over his body; one of my hands grabbed his tie and used it to pull him closer to me, the other reached up to brush against the short, soft hair on the back of his neck. “It wasn’t?” I questioned when we broke away for air.

Aaron’s lips moved across my cheek, leaving soft kisses until he reached my ear. “No, sweet girl, it wasn’t.” His mouth moved down to my neck; his kisses turning into bites that were sure to become brushes. I didn’t care, I needed him. My hands moved to his shirt, quickly trying to undo all the buttons.

His hands moved down to the waist of my jeans, deftly flicking the button open before sliding the zipper down. “Is this what you want?” he asked as his hand touched my lower stomach, his fingers brushing over the elastic band of my panties.

“Yes,” I said, still working to free him from his shirt. “I want this so much.”

The fingers of his free hand rose up to tap my chin, forcing my eyes up until I met his gaze. "I want to hear you say my name again." His other hand lifted from my stomach to slide over the flair of my hip until he was gripping my ass. "Whenever I laid in bed that night after I had you pressed against me in my kitchen when I stroked my cock, I thought about you moaning my name.” The hand that was on my chin pulled away, skimming down my body until he was grabbing the other side of my ass. “So, say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Aaron.” So, so much.

His hands moved to the backs of my thighs, then he lifted me up his body, startling me. Jesus Christ, how strong is this guy? I threw my arms around his neck as he started walking us down towards his bedroom. A giggle escaped my lips. “I could have walked, you know.”

We had already entered his room; he tossed me gently on the bed before he turned to close and lock the door. He walked to stand at the side of his bed, his eyes devouring me. “I couldn’t give you a chance to sneak away again, sweet girl.” Aaron pulled off his tie before he finished unbuttoning his shirt, shedding it on the floor.

Fuck. Fuck, he’s hot. I pulled my own shirt over my head, and his body was on top of me before it even left my hands. Aaron's mouth moved down to my collarbones, his hand slipped behind my back to unhook my bra. Once the straps were down my arms, Aaron lifted himself up on his arms to toss it away, his eyes running over my body. "You're so beautiful," he said softly like it wasn't the sweetest compliment I'd ever been paid. He leaned over again, his lips skimming down to my chest before he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples.

“Fuck, Aaron,” I moaned.

He gave my nipple a flick with his tongue before he lifted his head. “Ssh, sweet girl. You have to be quiet. Can you do that?” He kissed his way over to my other breast. “I can’t do this if you won’t be quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” I whispered right before I bit my lip to smother my moan at the feeling of his mouth on me. “Maybe.”

His breath puffed against my skin when he laughed at me. My hands threaded through his hair when he brought his face back up to mine. My mouth opened eagerly for him, my tongue slicking over his while I tried to grind my body against him. Aaron was smiling when he broke the kiss, shifting up onto his knees. “Well, I appreciate you trying to be quiet at any rate,” he teased.

My response died in my throat when his fingers yanked my jeans off my legs, bringing my panties with them. I was totally bare in front of him. His eyes raked down my body in a way that would make me self-conscious with anyone else. How could I ever be self-conscious with a man who looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world?

But when he started to kiss further down my body, I grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him back up to kiss me. “Aaron,” I whispered.

He pressed a soft kiss to my collarbone. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“You don’t…you don’t have to do…that,” I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.

Aaron braced himself on his arms and stared down at me. Enlightenment dawned on his face a second later. He leaned down to kiss me softly. “Do you not want me to?”

I bit my lip, feeling more flustered. “It’s just…I’ve never…and I know that guys don’t really like-.“ My words were cut off when he placed another kiss to my lips, still incredibly soft, but with more force than before.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't," he said quietly. "But I can assure you, I can't think of anything more I'd rather do than lick your pussy until you cum all over my face." He skimmed his lips over my cheek to my ear. "And once you've come down, I want to slide my cock inside you and feel how soft and wet you are." His kisses moved down to my neck, his mouth sucking on my pulse point. "Then I want to fuck you until you're whimpering against my lips to make you cum again.”

I felt my core throb at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. He lifted his gaze when he got back to my breast, flicking my nipple with his tongue. “Is that what you want too, sweet girl?”

I have never wanted anything more, I thought; but I was so far gone that all I could do was nod.

He gave me a soft smile, moving down the bed further to settle between my thighs, pulling them further apart. I felt a kiss pressed to one thigh, then the other. His hot breath washed over the part of me that was already so wet for him. “You’re beautiful here too,” he murmured before he pressed a kiss to my clit. I lifted my hips at the sensation, causing him to chuckle and move his hands to wrap around my thighs, his arms anchoring me in place. A second later I understood why he braced my hips. The second he flattened his tongue and licked the length of my pussy, my hips started moving involuntarily and my fingers tangled in his hair.

I felt a puff of air against me when he laughed again, and it made me smile. I didn’t expect Aaron Hotchner to be fun…or dirty in bed. All thought immediately left my head when he parted me with his tongue, dipping into my entrance before spearing his tongue into me. I felt the vibration when he moaned against me. "You taste so fucking good, y/n," he said, his voice still hushed. Giving my entrance one last lick, he moved up to my clit.

He spent time moving his tongue around me, learning what made me squirm. When he started fluttering his tongue quickly over my clit my hands started tugging on his hair and my thighs tried to snap together.

“Aaron,” I whined, attempting to rock my hips against his mouth.

I think he understood what I needed better than I did. His left hand released my thigh and moved down to my heat, just below his mouth. I felt his fingers brush over me before he pushed on inside me, causing my back to arch off the bed. “Aaron, Aaron, fuck.” He added a second finger, pumping them in a rhythm that complimented the movements of his mouth.

I wasn't prepared for when his lips closed around my clit, sucking lightly, while his fingers started to curl inside of me. “Oh my God," I moaned out, louder than I should have. "Aaron, I'm going to cum." I started pulling on his hair so hard it must have hurt, but he just moaned against me, never slowing his pace. "Aaron, fuck, please. I think…I-I-“

My words broke off as the band inside of me snapped, my pussy clamping down on his fingers and my back arching off of the bed, my mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

Aaron slowed his motions, slowly bringing me through the orgasm and back down to Earth. With one final kiss to my thigh, he rose and moved up my body until his face was hovering over mine. His lips were shiny with my arousal, they also looked a little swollen, but more importantly, they were smirking at me.

I’ll give him that one. Reaching up I cradled his jaw in my hands, bringing his mouth down to mine. I tasted myself on his lips and tongue when he licked into my mouth. Despite the powerful orgasm he had just given me, I was still desperate for him. I broke away from his mouth. “Aaron, I need you.”

He pressed another kiss to my lips before he lifted up and stood at the side of the bed, undoing the buckle of his belt. My eyes were fixed on his movements, watching as he unbuttoned his slacks and slid them down his legs. His cock was a thick pipe outlined in his underwear. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband before he spoke again. "I'll give you everything you need, greedy girl." Aaron pushed his underwear down, his cock springing free before he climbed back on the bed.

He was so much thicker than I expected he would be. I moved my hand down to wrap my fingers around him, pumping his length. He let out a groan and lowered his forehead to mine. “Baby,” he muttered. “I…fuck. I have to get a condom.”

“Aaron,” I whined. “I want to feel you inside me. I’m on birth control. Please?” The thought of anything separating me from this man was abhorrent to me in that moment.

I saw his willpower crumble. “Are you sure?”

So sure. “Please,” I begged lifting my head to kiss him. “I want you to fuck me.”

With a groan that I will remember for the rest of my life, he shifted his hips forwarded, allowing my hands to guide him to my entrance. Aaron kissed me then, slowly and deeply has he started to push inside me. My hand flew away from his cock, both my arms wrapping around his body to pull him closer to me. I felt my nails digging into his back.

Aaron broke our kiss with another soft moan that sounded like my name. “I knew you’d feel like this,” he whispered, pressing deeper inside me. “I knew your pussy would be this fucking tight, this fucking hot, and so fucking soft." He started moving in and out of my pussy, going in a little further each time. “You still have to be quiet, sweet girl.”

“I’m trying,” I moaned, my pussy already starting to flutter around him when he finally pushed all the way inside of me. “Aaron, fucking Christ.” I felt him everywhere, and I somehow still craved more.

He grabbed my thigh, pulling if further up his side, allowing himself to sink deeper inside of me. “I know, sweet girl. I know.” He started a slow pace, pulling almost all the way out of me before slamming back inside me.

My head was thrashing against the pillows, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. “Aaron, I need you to fuck me harder. Please.”

He groaned at my words, placing a sloppy kiss to my mouth before pulling back. He pulled one of my legs up until it was over his shoulder, the other still wrapped around his waist, and then he started to move faster inside of me.

I braced one hand against the headboard as he pounded into me. “Oh my god, Aaron,” my voice was a low whimper as I looked down to see his cock sliding in and out of me. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Baby, I want you to reach down and rub your clit for me while I fuck your tight little pussy.” His pace started to speed up as he spoke. “Can you do that for me?” He groaned when I complied, the stimulation to my clit causing my pussy to flutter around him. “Good girl.”

My fingers began to work frantically. “Don’t stop, Aaron. Don’t stop,” I begged. “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you. Your pussy feels so good squeezing around my cock. You’re going to make me cum.” His thrusts were starting to get choppier, one of his hands braced on the top of the headboard while the other held my leg on his shoulder. “Do you want me to cum inside your pretty pussy, sweet girl?” He groaned loudly when my walls clenched around him. “It feels like you like the idea of that, don’t you baby?”

My fingers continued their pace, my head thrashing, my body trembling. “Yes. Fuck, Aaron. Please cum inside of me. Please.”

Aaron felt it first and acted quickly; his hand moved from my leg to cover my mouth. “That’s it, cum for me, baby.”

I thought my orgasm earlier tonight was powerful. It was nothing compared to how I felt when I came around his cock, only to feel him find his own release a moment after.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, y/n,” he breathed, giving a last few jerks inside of my body, pushing against the fluttering aftershocks of my orgasm. He rolled off me, careful not to drop all of his weight on top of me. To my relief, he quickly gathered me in his arm, pulling me against his body, pressing a soft kiss to my sweaty forehead.

My ear was pressed against his chest, allowing me to hear his heartbeat slowdown from its frantic pace and his breathing even out. I turned my head and pressed a kiss to his chest while his hand continued to stroke my back.

“That…that was amazing,” I said, looking up at him. “If I knew you had that in you, I wouldn’t have run out of the room every time I was alone with you.”

He laughed softly, his eyes sparkling. “Well, at least you’ll know for next time.”

My thoughts sobered at his words. Next time

“Hey,” he said, his hand cupping the side of my face. “No, don’t go away. I just got you.” He kissed my forehead again, then the tip of my nose, then both of my eyelids, before he tilted my face up further so he could press a kiss to my lips. “We’ll figure this out. We have to. I care too much about you to let you go.”

“I care about you too,” I replied, snuggling against his chest, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy.

I was almost asleep when I heard his voice rumble again. “Will you sing Beatles songs to me when I can’t sleep too?” His voice was sleepy and teasing.

I smiled into the darkness, not bothering to open my eyes. “If you want me to, I will.”

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soranis-sunshadow · 4 years

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Hordak can’t catch a break even on his birthday...

Oh fandom, you really like this sort of drama don’t you?

A few days ago, on Hordak’s birthday, there was this ‘interesting’ post in the tag – since, apparently it’s impossible to get any peace even on that day.

I was too tired to answer it at the time after being on call the day before so, here’s my delayed answer to all of that:

First off: this post has this bit in it when asked what that person dislikes about SPOP.

He doesn’t need to get a redemption and he doesn’t get one in the show.

None of his actions constitute a redemption arc. The man merely acknowledged his personhood and freed himself from his master and God. That’s what his arc was about: the right to have a personal identity.

He gave himself a name and wanted to be his own person. That’s it. That’s all he wanted.

The man was merely freed from Prime’s influence- an influence he was born into since he’s been specifically manufactured to serve as a disposable mass produced soldier and worshipper of Prime.

If the argument that Catra was “forced” to commit crimes and thus she is not completely guilty of them since she was under duress – then the argument doubly holds for a person who has been directly programmed and conditioned to do so under the threat of death or mental rape (purification).\

Even while away from Prime, he was still conditioned to obey and brainwashed by Prime’s cult. He literally knew nothing else – he was not meant to. It’s how indoctrination works.

Prime’s clones aren’t people to Prime, they are tools. Those clones, while cut off from Prime still want to serve and please him: That’s what Wrong Hordak’s purpose in the show is- to show us just that.

Hordak is not considered “OK” because Entrapta likes him. Hordak is merely shown – by Entrapta that he could live apart from his cult and have worth outside what Prime tells him he has.

Just like real life cult victims, he needs an outsider to help him see a way out of the cult. The nature of indoctrination and brainwashing makes it impossible for the brainwashed person to know they are brainwashed unless someone points it out.

Now for my favorite thing:

and

oh and

Oh boy… this makes me just so damn uncomfortable.

To offer a bit of context as to why. I have never been on social media before SPOP or in any fandom and as such, I have never encountered the ‘all men are evil’ discourse that seems to infest these places. It’s been quite a bit of culture shock for me.

What is it that makes anyone think it is ok to judge a person because of an accident of birth? (being born male)

Why does hate for 50% of the human population get such a free pass on these platforms? Misandry is just as terrible as misogyny. You are being biased against another human because of their gender. I don’t care that males are perceived as ‘privileged’ – that doesn’t make it ok to be terrible to them unprovoked.

How does hating all men help achieve equity?

Do you realize that this sort of discourse is exactly how you radicalize people against the very cause you are championing? You breed hate and adversity for the rest of us who actually want to to have a discussion on the topic.

I’m a feminist myself (in a country where feminism is hard-work) and let me tell you, making all men hate us does nothing but push away potential allies and make it a lot harder for our voices to be heard.

Feminism is about equality, not women dominating.

Now onto the second post: the one comparing Catra and Hordak with the question of which of them is a better person.

This whole war orphans that were personally abducted and tortured into serving the horde HC that some ppl have is really starting to get boorish. This has been going on for more than 6 months.

I have no idea why everyone thinks he went down chimneys and stealing babies left and right while cackling villainously. The man had a busy schedule of brooding in his lab, wallowing at his inability to use insulated cables and having his device blowing up in his face with the occasional Skype call to Shadow Weaver to see what the Horde is doing.

And yet, to a part of the fandom, this is what he looked like:

( @bat-burrito made this one and it’s glorious)

And if you don’t believe me about the lab recluse thing, you don’t have to, the show pretty much states it for me.

and

Hordak is a recluse that stayed in his lab and let the running of the Horde and most operations to Shadow Weaver and later Catra. He did not personally abuse anyone and he is not the origin of the cycle of abuse.

Shadow Weaver was a child grooming manipulative woman before she even joined the Horde – she did this to Micah while she was not “evil” or presumably abused by Hordak.

Even if you want to HC that Hordak abused her somehow, he is still not the one who started the cycle: Horde Prime is.

The whole fandom seems to forget about the eldritch monstrosity that created a whole army of brainwashed slaves to worship and die for him. Prime is the one that sent Hordak to die and gave him the motivation to try to prove himself worthy of life and love. If you want to point fingers, point them at the origin of all of this. This fandom has a strange Prime blindness. He is never talked about when it comes to being the start of all of this.

If Prime didn’t exist, Hordak wouldn’t exist. If Prime hadn’t sent Hordak off to die, then his clone wouldn’t have accidentally ended up on Etheria. None of the things in the show would have happened.

Adora would have died of exposure in a field, the monarchies on Etheria would have continued as they are and the planet would have continued to exist in despondos.

He is a dictator, yes. So are the princesses. Monarchies are dictatorships where the ruler is born into power. Hordak gained his through military might while Glimmer was born with hers and enforced it with tradition. I don’t really care to play “who’s the better dictator”. The princesses have their power because of the runestones- magical rocks put there by the First Ones to channel the planet’s magic and use it as a weapon. How come no one talks about that?

Do you think a king/queen keeps their crown without effort or subjugation of their subjects?

Also, Hordak had never interacted with Catra before SW dragged her before him to be judged. He was indifferent to etherians in general and didn’t seem to care which of them were his underlings so long as the operations were running smoothly. He was more focused on his portal and returning home than on anything else. He did not set out to “ruin lives” or quest for power. What he wanted was to return to his deity and become a mindless part of the whole again – that is as opposite to power hungry as you can get.

Catra was directly abused by Shadow Weaver throughout her childhood. That makes Shadow weaver responsible for 100% of that abuse.

Catra was found in a box by Adora and adopted by Shadow Weaver. Hordak didn’t know or care that she existed.

He is responsible for the war, he is responsible for the war casualties and the property damage. He is not responsible for Shadow Weaver being a terrible person and mother figure.

Again with the orphan thing. We have 5 cadets in the show.

Adora was found in a field.

Catra was found in a box. Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio are unexplained. The only lizard ppl we see in the show are in the Horde or the Crimson Wastes. The other two could just as well be the children of some of the soldiers.

I may harp on about what a bitch Shadow Weaver is – the reason I do so is because she is legitimately terrible to the two girls in her care.

I was the unfavorite growing up, I WAS the Catra in my family who could do no right while my sibling was the golden child. I don’t however hate Shadow Weaver. She is a cartoon character in a show and she does the things she was written to do. Hell, she is a very compelling and believable villain. Her motivations are clear and she is consistent. Her voice actress portrayed her splendidly and her character design is superb. I like her but that doesn’t mean that I don’t acknowledge her role in the story. I don’t however make up parts of the story to make her more evil than she was or treat my headcanons about her as absolute fact.

Again, sigh: Prime is the worst villain in the show. He is quite literally Nyarlathotep and does this to planets:

This to people:

and this to the people he created to serve, worship and love him:

How is that not worse?

I love Catra and it genuinely annoys me when people erase her agency or try to paint her as one-dimensional victim. Catra was an antagonist for most of the show and she rocked it! She was 400% more efficient at it than cloneboy. Give the queen some damn respect and recognition! Catra had a lot of agency and her actions moved the plot of the show more than those of the protagonists. (they were mostly reactive).

Catra pulled the lever of the portal in a moment of distress after a breakdown, a Shadow-Weaver related breakdown because that’s how trauma works.

Hordak didn’t make her do it, he didn’t send Catra after Adora either. These were Catra’s choices. They came from a place of hurt but they were her choices still.

The portal was a means of transportation, not a weapon. Building it was not Catra’s mission, it was Hordak’s. He built it so he could contact Prime and either summon him here or go home –whichever course of action Prime wanted. Again, Hordak wanted to go back to this:

...

The only person who knew the device was dangerous was Entrapta and she tried to warn Hordak about it. Catra was the one who stopped her, violently so, then sent her to die on Beast Island- the fate Entrapta saved her from a season ago. Catra then tried to have Hordak open the portal before it was ready.

When he wouldn’t – she pulled the lever herself because that is how desperate she had gotten at that point, to show Shadow Weaver how wrong she was. That is how hurt Catra was by her mother figure’s betrayal and abuse.

Don’t take that away from her. Don’t call it curiosity or naivete or whatever. She knew the portal was dangerous but she wanted to prove Shadow Weaver wrong so badly that she didn’t care at that point. She had been pushed that far.

Catra’s actions led to Angella’s death but she was not directly responsible for it. She didn’t activate the device to kill Angella, it merely happened accidentally. Catra was however glad it happened and wanted to profit from the aftermath of her death.

Hordak didn’t care or plan to kill Angella personally. There is no in-show moment where any of that is portrayed. Since he doesn’t care about the specifics of running the horde seem to know what they are conquering at the moment, it seems that that was usually a task reserved for his second in command.

^ - troop movement ordered by Catra

Hordak doesn’t even know what his own army is doing.

Again with the Hordak “drilling into orphan’s minds”… I seriously doubt that any of them had ever seen him out of his lab or that he came up with the propaganda himself.

Manipulation is more Shadow Weaver’s game not his. For all of Hordak’s faults, he is not deceptive or manipulative. If anything, he is woefully incapable of spotting lies. (it might have something to do with him being born in a society where lies were almost impossible because of the hive mind and Prime being able to browse his thoughts at a whim- as such, it wouldn’t be a skill he would have been able to develop).

Hordak canonically despises deception and lies. I really don’t understand where this image of a manipulative and cunning Hordak comes from. He wouldn’t be able to plot himself out of a paper bag if his life depended on it.

First off.. S4 Catra was his equal, not his subordinate. Don’t take that away from her. She earned it.

He doesn’t look that threatening here...

And again: Prime created the system. He made clone slaves and programmed them to serve. His clones have hardware installed for the express reason to facilitate his control over them. He has a religion in place to make sure their thoughts do not stray from his purpose. I am legitimately boggled by this fandom’s tendency to completely forget about his existence.Does anyone really think that these people that are born “prechipped” and programmed to know nothing but Prime’s Light are really knowledgeable about human morality?

That they would know that conquest is bad when that is the express reason for their creation?

If I were born in that situation, I’m not sure I would have known any better. Hell, if any of the clones even try to disobey Prime, they would get either mindraped (erased) or killed for the effort. They really have no choice, even if they knew that killing in Prime’s name is wrong (they don’t) they really can’t do anything about it. They have no choice but to be what they were made to be. I find it personally abhorrent when these designer slaves are held accountable for what Prime has made them do.

And to the people that say Hordak was free of Horde Prime once he was stranded on Etheria.. That is not how indoctrination works. The fact that I can’t go to church this Sunday because I’m locked in the house and can’t find the keys doesn’t make me an atheist.

Hordak was serving Prime even on Etheria. He keeps mentioning it to both Entrapta and Catra. He started the war because that’s what he thought Prime wanted of him and that’s what he’s been programmed to do. Personal and informed choice really doesn’t factor into his decision at all.

He is not sympathetic because Entrapta likes him. Notice how I haven’t brought up his relationship with her up to this point?

He is sympathetic because he literally had no choice but to do the things he was indoctrinated into doing. He was build and programmed for it, just like all the other clones. They are not able to deviate from that because of the way Prime functions and rules over them.

There is no point in the show where Hordak relishes over his status as a ruler or the “luxury” it affords him. He does not engage in the same behaviors his progenitor manifests.

There is no point in the show where Hordak relishes over his status as a ruler or the “luxury” it affords him. He does not engage in the same behaviors his progenitor manifests. He attempts to emulate Prime in order to project authority in the only way he knows how but since those are some really big shoes to fill, he is woefully inadequate.

If Hordak had been power hungry, he would have stayed in despondos and ruled his own faction. Being away from Prime is the most powerful and autonomous he’s ever been and yet, he wants to throw all of that away in order to be a powerless, nameless part of the whole. What Hordak wanted was to be enslaved by Prime because that’s what he had been created for.

“vengeful” – and how did Hordak manifest this vengefulness? Who did he take revenge on in the series?

“apologize” �� when and where in his 3 minutes of screentime would he remember everything after 2 mindwipes, realize that the whole worldview he had since inception is wrong, realize that he had been mistaken into doing the horrible things he did and then go to all of the characters and apologize for it?

Would anyone be convinced of that had it happened in 3 minutes? I’d rather they don’t redeem him than do a shit job at it.

Very true. He’s not a better person. He’s just a person in an impossible situation. Both Hordak and Catra were handed a raw deal, I don’t understand why everyone insists on pitting them against one another. They both did bad things and they were both in horrible situations. The specifics don’t really matter since neither of them would have done the things they did had they been more fortunate.

This is the exact reason for which I don’t hold Cara’s actions against her. Catra’s only model of success was Shadow Weaver. She emulated her abusive mother figure because she had no other example and because she wanted to please that woman. It does not excuse the way Catra acted but it explains it.

I really don’t understand why some people want Catra punished. I’d rather she get love and help. That is what she needs. In time, she will want to do better and be better by herself. She doesn’t need to be forced, heavens know, she’s been forced enough as it is.

They are really different. Catra got an abusive, shitty and violent childhood. Hordak got this:

He was literally robbed of a childhood.

She was taught by Shadow Weaver that weakness gets you killed. Hordak was not allowed to have emotions to begin with, or thoughts of his own, or a name...

Comparing to victims of abuse to see which one of them is more likable is such a strange concept to me.

Catra was robbed in s5 too. I don’t hold that against her. I blame it on the writers. S5 could have been a lot better.

#Hordak #Catra #catra vs hordak discourse strikes again #can we please stop with this #it's been 6 months #my pixel is nicer than that pixel #a cartoon villain is not an actual despot #cartoon and fandom activism is not real activism #Cartoon characters can't apologize for their actions unless the writers make them #the writers in s5 were too busy with butchering the previous seasons to actually put any thought into the cohesiveness of this show's themes #everyone felt a bit ooc in s5 #spop critical #spop fandom drama #spop

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