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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months

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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 5: The Man, The Myth, The Legend

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter five of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Drug Use, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Possible spoilers for season three.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

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Present Day

"Hey'ya Kitten!" Legend smiles wide when he opens the front door of his apartment. "Where have you been baby? How's retirement?" He leans forward for a kiss and you turn your cheek to the side.

Always the flirt.

"Exciting. Is it alright if I come in?"

"Of course! I always have time for my favorite hero." He ushers you into his home.

It was one day after Agent Butcher and Hughie had dropped by your apartment looking for information on Soldier Boy. One sleepless night later you realized that the only way you were going to find Countess was through Legend. And despite his flirtatious attitude, you liked your former handler.

The apartment looks the same as it always has. Memorabilia from what he thought was the good old days hangs on the walls, a black leather couch sags in the center of the living room, and a red faded high backed armchair stands in the corner like a silent guardian. The smell of old cologne, pot, and alcohol soaks through the air and into your nose as you turn to examine the inhabitant.

Legend looks decidedly older. Sometimes you forgot that you didn't age the same way other people did, but then you'd meet someone from the past and it would remind you all over again. He's wearing the same smoking jacket with patched elbows, sunglasses, and ascot, that you saw him wearing over ten years ago. But Legend was classic.

"You hurt my feelings by not calling." He breezes having a seat on one of the couches, and fluffing more of the offensive smell through your nose, but you don't make a face. "What's it been ten years?"

"Something like that." You smile tightly and sit down on the armchair.

It wasn't that you didn't like seeing Legend. He might have been a crazy son of a bitch, but he was a good handler. He knew everything about everyone and he helped you get through Ben's death, not to mention he helped you create your new life when you broke away from Payback.

"You want some?" Legend holds out a mirror where a single white line of cocaine sits. "Or are you still sober?"

"I never did cocaine. And yeah, I'm still trying to stay on the wagon."

"Don't know how you do it."

"Me either." You say it partly to yourself, because it was true. You didn't know how you got through the past 40 years without a drink. Before, it wasn't that you partied as hard as Ben or the others did. It was more the drinking than drugs you imbibed in. Yes, you'd smoked the occasional blunt, but you didn't want to lose control if you tried anything stronger. You didn't like losing control, you prided yourself on keeping it together.

Ben had lost control more than once, and each time he'd show up at your apartment just like he had when he was a kid and he was hiding from his father, falling asleep beside you like nothing had changed. You never understood how he could be so vulnerable when it was just the two of you, but when he was in public he was different. Sometimes you hated that, because in those quiet moments you saw the boy you fell in love with, but when you were out in public you saw the man he became.

You remember all the times he lost control. The worst was when he threw a car through a house when trying to stop some kids in the street and killed an older man. Ben hadn't gone to the funeral, but you had. You sat on the back pew and watched the family mourn. Only a little boy in the front row had noticed you, and you had offered a kind smile, before walking back through the streets and leaving an envelope of cash in the family's mailbox. You knew the money couldn't replace the person they lost, but you couldn't think of anything else to do.

"So, are you here because you want to come out of retirement?" Legend snorts the line on the mirror without looking up. "Might be a good thing."

You laugh to yourself. "I like retirement too much to go back to Vought. Too wild out there nowadays with the supervillains and all that Compound V bullshit." You lean back in the armchair, crossing your legs in front of you.

"I could make you a star!" He looks up at you. "You're still as sexy as ever."

"And you're still a dirty old man." You tease, rolling your eyes at him and earning a chortle from Legend. "I don't think my powers are cutesy enough for television. I’m not like Starlight.” You snort thinking about the current blonde member of The Seven that had become America’s Sweetheart, a title that you were happy you never wore.

"Who said anything about your powers babe? It's all about the body."

"Legend-"

"Fine, fine." He shakes his head. "I saw your last art show, very nice. Bought something for the country house."

"That's very kind of you." You smile with pride. Your last show had been a series you titled "Moods of the Forest," which meant that you had camped out under the stars for a solid month up North drinking in the silence of the woods. It was a nice way for you to clear your head and catch up on your reading, but it had done little to ease the thoughts of the past. "Those were some of my favorites. It was hard to part with them."

"You're very talented." He compliments.

"Thank You. I'd hope so. I've been painting for almost 90 years." Your memory flashes back to when Ben gave you paint for your birthday and the months that followed as you practiced. All the days you spent painting in the park and along the streets of Philadelphia, sometimes with Ben following behind and teasing you, but you knew he loved how much you were painting, loved how much you enjoyed the gift. The happiness and warmth of the memories is doused by a bucket of cold water as you remember the last time you saw him. The echo of the last words you spoke to him and the words he shouted at you ringing in your ears.

The chill sobers you and makes you remember why you were here talking to Legend.

"I have something important to ask you." You look up at Legend. "Do you know where Crimson Countess is?"

Legend doesn't answer immediately. The spike of his pulse with the mention of Countess' name is loud in your ears. "Did you want a scotch? I think I need one." He avoids your gaze.

"Legend-"

He stands from the couch and moves over to the table in the corner that has a collection of multicolored bottles that you wish you could drink from, but you restrain yourself. You hear the sound of the glass being poured and as he turns he takes a sip as if rousing the courage to tell you.

"Y/n if this is you finally going after her, now might not be the best time." He swirls the glass in his hand, the amber liquid sloshing against the sides. "I thought you were past all that-"

"It's not like that I-“ Your lips press together in a tight line, considering your next words. "Some men came to my apartment the other day looking for me. They were asking me about Ben."

"You told them you were dead right? The story we came up with?" Legend looks worried.

"Yeah. Don't think they bought it." You shrug.

"Did they give you their names?"

"They said they were with the CIA. Agent Butcher and a guy named Hughie-"

"Butcher? Dark hair, British accent, asshole?" Legend's glass pauses half-way to his mouth.

"Yeah. How did you-"

Legend sighs. "He used to be with the CIA, was on a task force that was used to hunt down supes. I helped them find a few over the years."

"Hunt them down?"

"Butcher's got a bone to pick with supes. Homelander especially." Legend sits back on the couch nursing his scotch.

At the mention of Vought’s most popular hero you pause. You didn’t know too much about Homelander, just that he emerged as Vought’s Golden Boy a few years after Ben died and he was supposed to be indestructible. You wondered if he was as indestructible as you.

“Homelander?”

“Did something to his wife.” Legend waves a hand like it doesn’t matter. "But they were asking you about Soldier Boy?"

"Yeah, they wanted to know about the relationship I had with him and how he died-" You foot taps against the ground, fighting the urge to pour yourself a drink.

Legend looks worried. "Maybe you should get out of town for a few days-"

"What?"

Can Butcher really be that dangerous? He didn't seem like much the other day and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be able to handle me. Most supes couldn't.

"Not because of Butcher, he's a dick, but I mean everything with Soldier Boy." Legend takes a sip from the glass. "If you start thinking about him again, you're going to be in the same place you were last time."

Deep down you know he's right, ever since Butcher and Hughie showed up on your doorstep, Ben was all you thought about. The hole you dug yourself into when you and Ben fought and then he died was deep and dark, and it was already beginning to open under your feet.

You didn’t know if talking to Countess would help close it, but maybe you needed closure, maybe you needed to hear it from her how he died. The last thing you wanted was to go to Stan Edgar. He'd already shown up once, but you thought you had convinced him with your story. Occasionally he would show up to one of your art shows, browsing through the canvases, and asking you about the inspiration of them. You never liked when he showed up in your life, because after all these years he hadn't changed, he was still a snake obsessed with power and being on top.

"I know." You sigh, clutching your hands together in your lap. "But I want to talk to her. Maybe it's time. There was always something that unsettled me about how Ben died and she's the one who saw it. Plus Noir isn’t very talkative these days, Gunpowder is dead, and I’d rather drink cyanide than listen to those two TNT idiots.”

Learning that Gunpowder was dead was a shock. You'd lost contact with him, but you thought it was suspicious that he died so soon before Butcher and Hughie came to see you. You knew that Gunpowder was still doing his rounds in the gun expos and conventions, boasting about the good all days and preaching about the dangers of gun control.

It was ironic for him to be against it when you'd personally seen him kill several people who pissed him off and for no good reason.

If anything he shouldn't be allowed near a gun.

When you knew him he was still a kid, but even then he was already adopting the ridiculous macho attitude that Ben had.

Must have stuck.

"I still don’t think it's a good idea." Legend finishes his glass of Scotch. "But let me find it.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me kitten. I don't think I'm doing you a favor." He grunts moving through the apartment, while your eyes trace the photos. Several of them were of Ben at movie premieres, another showed the whole Payback team, and finally just Ben and Legend. He was wearing his ridiculous helmet, the one you used to tease him about. You always thought it was a shame that they covered up his handsome face.

You had a box of photos under your bed that held similar images, but most of yours were of Ben and you not wearing your supe suits. The ones from your childhood needed to be handled with care, but you enjoyed looking at them, before you saw the hardness in Ben's eyes and the set of his jaw. Those early photos showed you the boy you fell in love with.

"Here." He hands you a slip of paper that holds his untidy scrawl as you stand from the chair.

"Thank you." You turn to go, but stop. "Should I be worried about Butcher?"

"I'd stay out of his way. He kills supes for fun."

"But if Ben's already dead then what does he want?"

Legend shrugs. "Can't be good."

"Great."

"Just be careful." Legend puts his hand on your shoulder. "I know that everything that happened with Soldier Boy really threw you-"

"I know. But I have to know. I have to hear what she has to say." You sigh looking up at him. It touched your heart that he cared so much. Legend never got close to his clients in the past, but for some reason he was always more willing to help you. It was him that talked you out of the hole when Ben died.

"Okay."

"It was good to see you. Take care of yourself." You try not to see the weariness in his eyes, the way the wrinkles have grown and stretched over the years, how the gray of his hair has spread. One listen with your supe hearing meant that you could hear his blood pumping through his veins, but it wasn’t at the same vigor as it once was. It was difficult to see age on the people you knew, the day that you and Ben both figured out that you weren't aging anymore had been bittersweet. You were happy that Ben wouldn’t die either, but it meant you’d lose your family. However, Ben’s inability to age meant that you weren't alone.

You frown to yourself. Sometimes you’d thought that meant something, that the universe finally threw you a bone and it was some cosmic sign that you and Ben were supposed to be together-

What a crock of shit.

But despite his death the past few years you hadn't been alone even though you had expected it.

"Good to see you too kitten. Don't be a stranger."

When you finally make it to the street below, you kick your leg over your motorcycle, but pause.

I could just go home and work on my pieces for my next show. Go home and pretend those men never showed up and forget all about Ben. The guilt and anger that rises with his name is familiar, but you brush it away. This might be the only chance I have of finding out what happened to him. You think about Countess and the scrap of paper in your pocket. But it won't be easy.

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Thank you so much for reading! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated, but not required. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister

#jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #the boys amazon #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fic #the boys series #the boys season 3

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mint-yooxgi · 9 months

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Indulgence - Yandere!Fallen Angel!Hongjoong

Yandere AU & Fallen Angel AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Hongjoong X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,038

Warnings: Religious themes and imagery, the typical angel/demon bs, heavy sexual themes: masturbation, voyerism. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Ngl, this was way darker in my head lmaooo. Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Twelfth of The Feral Drabbles

Really? Broad daylight? You certainly are a wild one, aren’t you? Maybe that’s why I love you so much.

You know, it hasn’t been easy since the fall, but you have truly made the pain I first experienced worthwhile. I’ll even let you in on a little secret…

I fell because of you.

You: you’re captivating, did you know that? I’m not easily impressed, but there’s just something about you that drew me in from the very first moment I laid my eyes upon you. One of His creations that puts even the most beautiful of us to shame. You should be protected, and kept away from those unworthy to gaze upon you.

After all, I’ve always been taught: nothing less for the best!

I will keep you safe. I will worship you like you clearly deserve. You need me, just as I need you. After all, I no longer have to worry about those stupid morals or duties down here. Only you.

From my experience, humans tend to… indulge in their more primal desires at night, but you? Anyone could look into your room right now and see what it is that you’re doing. Really, you’re lucky I’m here to make sure that that doesn’t happen. No one else can see the way your hands trace over such delicate curves. No one else deserves to watch as your chest stutters with every hitch in your breath.

I only wish it were me in that room making you breathless instead.

One of the various reasons I fell, My Beloved, was due to my desire for you. You make it increasingly hard to control myself around you, not that I’ve ever seemed to have any sense of control around you to begin with. I’ve long since ached to feel your touch on me, to know what those hands feel like tugging on my hair, cupping my face so tenderly, and maybe even squeezing my ass…

Well, you get the point.

I want you, and I will do everything in my power - or rather, with the power that still remains inside of me - to make you mine.

I’ve truly never given much thought to indulgences before- no, wait, that’s a lie. I promised myself I would stop lying to you. You deserve my truth, and only my truth. You’re the only one that does. Everyone else can go visit Uncle Luci downstairs for all I care. You are the only one who matters to me now.

Anyways, I digress… Indulgence. What a strange word. To even so much as imply that basic wants and necessities are something to indulge in is completely abhorrent. Every person’s needs - angels, demons, humans - are different, and to act like an indulgence for one is completely natural for another defeats the purpose.

My brothers down below revel in the more sinister indulgences, while those stupid, ‘holier-than-thou’ chickens I once belonged to would shun them, even though the majority of us would do the same damn things. Isn’t it interesting, Beloved, that one is revered while the other is feared? What makes demons worse than angels for doing the same, horrific things?

Ah, but enough about my family trauma… Let me now focus on you.

Oh, I suppose in my tangent, I zoned out for a little there. You’ve certainly been busy in that time, not that I’m complaining.

No. Never. I could never fault you for anything.

Unless you tried to run from me. Or you decided to fall in love with another. Or you wanted to leave me.

Okay, so just don’t do anything bad, and we’ll live- what do you humans like to call it again? Oh, ‘Happily Ever After.’

Really, I’m just lucky that you decided to move out to the countryside. You don’t have many neighbours, but really, Beloved, you never know what kind of monsters can be lurking in the shadows. Fear not, for I am here to watch over you. Always.

And gaze upon you, I do…

Such beauty…

Such marvellous wonder…

Look at how those beautiful thighs part, practically begging for me to be between them right this very moment. Look at the way your legs tremble, and you’ve still yet to touch that gorgeous cunt of yours.

It’s a shame really. I should be the one giving you such sweet release. You shouldn’t have to do this on your own.

No! Don’t cover your mouth with your hand! Let me hear you!

Oh my… That was close… I almost smashed my hand through your window, Beloved. Do you see what you do to me? I told you I can hardly control myself around you, but you can’t blame me. You just have such a strong affect on me…

Such a perfect scene spread out before me, and you want to taint it by muffling your sounds? What am I supposed to do with myself if I can’t hear what you sound like whimpering and whining for me? How is that fair?

I want to know everything about you. I want to consume you in the best of ways, just as you have enraptured me with your very soul. Let it shine beside my own, a brilliant white to contrast my now scorched wings. Wings that now brand me as a Fallen with their blackened feathers.

Black feathers are meant to be a sign of shame amongst my kind, but all I can feel is pride. You have given me hope for a new life, and I would fall all over again if it meant spending even one second with you.

I love you, My Beloved, and nothing will ever change that.

So, please, won’t you open up to me?

Yes… That’s it, Beautiful, just like that. Cup those gorgeous breasts for me. Imagine that those are my hands holding you so. Feel my fingers pinching your nipples, my tongue flicking against your skin.

How I long for the day where I can finally touch you. I want to be able to bring you to new heights, and show you pleasures that you’ve never even dreamed about. You should be taken care of with the utmost attention, and I promise you that that is what I’ll do. I’ll take my time worshipping every dip, every curve of that wondrous body of yours. I’ll make you sigh my name like a prayer, nothing but the most intricate of praises delegated unto you from my lips.

Fuck- spread those legs for me. Let me see all of you in your glory. Let me discover my own personal heaven on earth in you.

My Beloved… is this all for me? Is the way your essence drips out of you because you long for this, too? It must be. There’s no other that could make you this wet, no other that could have you trembling just from the mere thought of them and what they could do to you.

I’m glad to know I’m not the only one able to affect the other like this…

Oh, Beloved, you really are putting on a show just for me! It’s like you can read my mind!

Perhaps… No. I shouldn’t be so bold.

Then again, after everything that’s happened, why shouldn’t I be? I have long since submitted to the fact that I am yours, and you are mine. There’s no doubt about it, not when I feel this strongly for you.

I must get closer, this glass separating me from you is burdensome. I need to see you, unobstructed. I need to be able to hear your every sound, unfiltered.

I suppose I should be grateful for my wings now, the black blends right in to the shadows my brothers downstairs revel above all else. I’ll admit, I’m not quite used to hiding in corners. We angels typical love standing out, but for now, I’ll lie in wait. It’s much better for the both of us this way. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to see me even if you tried.

Oh, Beloved, look at you… How the mere sight of you, hand teasing at that gorgeous pussy, nearly brings me to my knees. The way your lips are parted as little breaths escape you while your eyes flutter shut and your nose scrunches is the most captivating sight I have ever had the pleasure to behold.

My only wish is that you could see the effect you have on me. Like you, my whole body is heating. My hands tremble, and my legs shake. Hell, even my wings cannot help but flutter in anticipation as I sneak my own hand down the front of my body. I’ll allow myself the pleasure of touching myself in time with you. I’ve only ever dreamed about it a countless amount of times before, anyways.

Dearly Beloved, won’t you give in to yourself? Give in to any and every desire you’re currently thinking about.

Touch yourself for me…

That’s it, Beloved, let me hear the wet drag of your fingers through that dripping cunt. I want to drown in your pleasure with you, don’t hold back.

Now I see why you covered your hand with your mouth…

It truly is hard to keep quiet when there’s such a temptation spread out before oneself. You are the greatest temptation I have ever known, and if I didn’t stifle my moan just now, you would have know that someone else is in the room with you. Well, we can’t have that, now, can we? You’d get scared and stop what you’re doing, and I wouldn’t be able to comfort you when you needed me most.

Fuck- there is no sound more holy than the breathless way you whine from such a simple touch.

Does that feel good, My Beloved? Are your fingers enough, circling over that delicate little clit of yours? Wouldn’t you rather feel mine? What about my tongue? You’d let me have a taste of that intoxicating nectar that flows from your pretty cunt, right? You’d let me get lost in you for however long I’d like? I’ll always give you everything you could ever want, My Beloved. My fingers, my tongue, my cock. Everything.

All that I am, is yours, Beloved. I hope when the time comes, you can say the same for me.

Oh, Beloved… do you know how fucking sexy you are when you moan like that? Do you know how it makes my heart stutter to hear you get lost to your own pleasure; how my cock aches for you? You must, otherwise you wouldn’t be tempting me like this.

I’m honestly embarrassed by how close I am already. I’ll have to work on that if we are to make love all night long when the time comes. And it will. I will make damn sure of it.

For now, why don’t you come for me? Rub that little clit, and come for me. Don’t hold back now, I want to see you. In all of your raw glory.

Yes, yes, yes, that’s it! Don’t stop now, Beloved. Let me hear you scream for me!

Fuck- I can practically taste you on my tongue already… look at that gorgeous pussy, just fucking fluttering in bliss.

So beautiful, and all mine.

Wait a second… I taste… blood.

Oh, I suppose I bit into my hand to keep myself quiet while I came with you. No worries, I’ll heal in the blink of an eye. Getting to see you come apart like that for me, though… priceless.

I wish I could stay, but I think one of my wings knocked into one of your picture frames on the wall, and I think you heard it despite the blissful haze that still clouds your mind. The last thing I want is to get caught like this. It’s not proper of me.

Really, what would you think?

I hope you didn’t catch that soft giggle of mine as I left your room, My Beloved, and I certainly hope you don’t discover any of my feathers I may or may not have left behind for you. If that’s that case, and you finally learn of my existence, my devotion to you… well, whatever on earth would I do?

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere hongjoong #yandere ateez #yandere kpop #hongjoong smut #hongjoong scenario #hongjoong imagine #ateez smut #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #kpop smut #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop au #fallen angel au #chubby reader

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rebouks · 7 months

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Previous // Next

Oscar: Do you think you can keep the baby a secret for now? It’ll only be for a little while… Robin: In case something bad happens? Oscar: Erh-.. yeah. Robin: Will it? Oscar: Probably not, but you never know. Robin: Will mama be okay though? Oscar: She’ll be fine-.. I’ll keep an eye on her, don’t worry. If Robin knew what a hypocrite was, he might’ve called his father out for telling him not to fret; but he didn’t, so he couldn’t. He stared out of the window listlessly instead, slightly anxious to leave his mother’s presence behind, much like his father. Robin: I don’t like being far away from people either, especially you and mama. Oscar: Is that why you don’t like going to school? Robin paused, that was part of the problem, but it was more painful than anything else. Everyone’s “head-voices” melded together until his brain hurt and he was no longer able to hear himself above the clamour. It was like being surrounded by fifty Jude’s or Juniper’s, all talking at once. Unfortunately, he’d learnt by now that no one else heard those voices, no one else was plagued by thoughts that weren’t theirs to think. You weren’t supposed to feel other people’s emotions as though they were your own, experience their pain or their happiness as strongly as they did, hear their internal monologue, see their memories; it wasn’t normal. You were supposed to be you, and that was it. Maybe he was weird after all. Oscar: We’ll always be there when you get home, you don’t have to worry about us when you’re at school. Robin: But you can’t tell what people are feeling when you’re not there… [Oscar nodded slowly, though Robin could tell his father didn’t quite see where he was coming from. How could he?] Oscar: It’s normal to wonder if people are okay when we’re not around, especially if you love them. Robin: Is it? Oscar: ‘Course! Robin: Oh. Oscar: When you’re used to being around someone a lot, sometimes it’s hard to spend time apart, but you’ll get used to it soon enough. You just have to hope they’ll be okay n’ do your thing without them, y’know? [Robin somewhat understood his father, though it was easier said than done-.. but maybe he was right, maybe it’d get easier over time. Oscar: Next time you’re at school, try and think about home now n’ then, rather than all the time] Oscar: Okay? Robin: I’ll try my bestest. Oscar: That’s all I’ll ever ask of you. Robin returned Oscar’s smile, warmed by the familiar rush of affection that swelled within his father’s heart. His love never wavered, was never tinged with guilt-.. an emotion that emanated strongly from his mother, but that Robin didn’t yet understand, so mistook as something negative. Maybe he’d figure her out over time too, but for now, he much preferred being with his papa.

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #oscar finch #robin finch #ouuuuugh #robin my guy.. you're definitely not in for an easy ride #and i'm not just talking about oscar's driving #😅#my guysssss #😭🧡#also! i hope this kinda clears up what's going on with robin cos i've only reaaally hinted at it until now #which was on purpose but still!! 🤭

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barrenclan · 6 months

Note

Ranger, Ranger, Ranger. The Machiavellian mutt we all love to hate. As we near towards the big finale in issue 44 and the epilogues that ensue, there is no doubt his role will become larger and larger. So, it’s time we start predicting his actions, reactions, and potentially his fate.

First, we must understand his character as well as his whole Bonnie and Clyde act with Hacksaw. I’ve checked through the comic to find their appearances and my search has found that Ranger is seemingly never seen without Hacksaw. However, Hacksaw is seen a few times without Ranger(in issue one, albeit implied and very brief)(And in issue 27, where she spies on the Barrenclan territory) it might be interesting to note that they are not mentioned alongside Prowl in Thrasher’s monologue in issue 13. Ranger definitely could not do all the menace behavior and projects and whatever shit he’s on, or at least it would be toned down, without Hacksaw. After all, she was the one who killed Saturn, the one who caught RainHaze in the first place, and is always by Ranger’s side whenever he’s talking to RainHaze, probably to bodyguard. The main examples of when Ranger has seriously fought are probably the pheasant he gave to RainHaze(might have been Hacksaw’s kill though) and when he was punishing RainHaze for lying. Issue 24 seems to be the main scene where we get a little peek at what is cooking in Ranger’s little brain cells. He doesn’t seem to really be invested that much in routine control, it’s the “projects” that he really cares about. It seems to be implied that RainHaze might not be the first poor creature this beastly brainwashed has sunk his claws into. However, something to note in issue 31(not the flashback part) is that Ranger does not seem that happy. He seems almost frustrated even though ordering around RainHaze and making him suffer seems to be his favorite thing in the world right now… or is that just a temporary mask he put on to trick RainHaze? Maybe Hacksaw’s words in issue 24 affected him.

So, our current takeaways:

-Ranger depends on Hacksaw as muscle to keep him safe

-Ranger’s main form of activity is his “projects” whether that be just what he’s doing to RainHaze or other fucked up things

-Ranger seems to be a bit in a rut with RainHaze right now

Now, to what Ranger might do in the near future of this story:

Well, we might need to know the extent of how far he wants to go with RainHaze. Does he just want him to love killing? Does he want to ensure RainHaze doesn’t hate him? Is this kind of a, “You’ll thank me later” situation he’s got with torturing RainHaze? Because he knows that RainHaze is part of BarrenClan, he’ll definitely want himself, Hacksaw, and RainHaze to have front row seats for whatever shenanigans Deepdark’s going to do when he pull up to their crib. But something Ranger should keep in mind is that if RainHaze has nothing left to lose, there’s not really anything holding him back from revenge. I’m sure Ranger knows this small risk, and either doesn’t care because he’s confident it won’t happen, or will just have his wifey do the cleanup. If things were to go his way, he’d probably just continue to brainwash RainHaze, wait for him to enjoy killing, and then move on to another project. I wonder if all his victims have a therapy group.

Now, before we go into my main theories for what Ranger’s conclusion will be, I want to discuss something a little extra. If there’s anything this comic is known for, it’s the big, fat, juicy EXISTENTIAL CRISES(and the generational trauma). Maybe, Ranger might get one. More likely not though.

So the two routes I think the story will take with Ranger

He Wins:

Until BeeFace and PlumStripe, and maybe CootStorm, we haven’t really seen antagonists be punished for their bad acts. I don’t think Razmerry is going for the route where Defiance gets away with everything though. But you never know. Maybe he gets no external punishments but it’s more of the internal horror, like the ending of American Psycho.

He gets a comeuppance:

This can come in many forms. Maybe he and Hacksaw die together. Maybe only Hacksaw dies, leaving him probably all alone. Existential crisis optional. Maybe RainHaze gets his revenge, by doing something Ranger did to him. It would be a cool scene if Ranger begs RainHaze to kill him, only for RainHaze to refuse. Maybe Hacksaw leaves him, as she seems a little annoyed with this whole project thing, “It’s either me or him!”

Welp, that’s my ramble. PatFW got that magic that got me doing a full analysis of Coyote Patrick Bateman.

You wrote a wholeass essay on my weirdo coyote with the whimsicality of Lemony Snicket... I'm in LOVE with this. I'm never gonna stop thinking about Machiavellian mutt. Coyote Patrick Bateman. Beastly brainwasher....

This is so good! I'm glad you're excited to see where these guys go!

#ask #anon #analysis #ranger #hacksaw #rainhaze

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penvisions · 4 months

Text

the melting point {chapter 16}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: In the aftermath of a rather eventful and terrifying last summer farmer's market, you try to find a semblance of normalcy as best you can. Meanwhile, Frankie is up to something that is beginning to cause you to worry about the burden you've become in your recovery.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: medical jargon, mild language, emotional monologues, internal monologue, negative feelings, negative thoughts, ptsd symptoms, pining, emotional pining, depressive thoughts, description of pain and injuries, blood, descriptions of post shooting chaos, panic attacks, notions of death, hospital setting, mentions of needles and iv's, mentions of narcotics, use of prescription narcotics, feelings of inadequacy, angst

A/N: um, so it's been four months since i've touched this fic, then i woke up yesterday morning and just began writing like nothing. takes breaks when you need to, don't force things and it'll all work out. please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“C’mon, hang on for me baby, please, don’t-don’t close your eyes.”

“Mantequilla, everything is gonna be okay, I promise, we’re all here for you, please know that everything is going to be okay.”

“We’ve got you, you did so good, you saved my little girl, you did, you saved her.”

“Honey, we all love you so much, please stay strong, I’ll hold your hand the entire way there.”

“Let’s get you turned over, ma’am, c’mon. There we go, you’re doing amazing.”

“Santi, she-she-“

“Papa!! Papa, please help her, I love her! Tio Santi, do something!!”

“Merde, that’s so much blood, Frankie you’ve gotta focus, you’ve gotta calm her down. Get her home safe, to your mother’s, somewhere safe.”

“Will!! They got her, call Morgan! She went missing the second things got crazy.”

“Has anyone seen Benny?”

“They’re transporting her now, rushing her to surgery the second the get there.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, any donations with the same blood type would be appreciated. Who here is a positive?”

“Sweet girl, please, you’ve got to pull through, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

“No response, it’s been how many days now?”

“She’s being rushed into another surgery, she keeps clotting. They can’t figure out why.”

“Fransico Morales? You’re next of kin?”

“No, no, but we’re all she has. Her family is flying out, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Taylor, take a moment, it’s…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Daddy, why is tia all tangled in those machines, she’s going to be okay, right?”

“This is my son, he wanted to come and cheer her up because she always did the same for him when he was sick.”

“Please, mi amor, please, you have to make it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Fractered memories played over each other, words echoing and bouncing off of each other through the fog that was all you knew. You couldn’t feel anything, all of your senses stripped away, and you were nothing more than a half-conscious mind tunneling in and out of suspended darkness.

Beeping, an even beeping was the only steady thing you could make out. Sense of environment completely gone and sense of awareness slowly trickling in. Your eyes hurt as you slowly blinked them open, the faint lights around you too bright and you clenched them shut with a huff that pulled at your lungs. The stillness of where you were was shattered as the clattering of a chair sounded, followed by a pair of hands tightening around yours that were settled over your middle. A hushed order to go fetch someone and then a deep voice was rumbling close. You turned your head toward the presence hovering close to your left side, drawn to whoever it was.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, sweet girl.”

A grunt sounded from deep in your chest as you tried to open your mouth and respond. Then a gasp when pain reverberated from the same spot. You tried to shift your legs, hips feeling oddly numb but you couldn’t quite feel them. It was as if they were asleep, but… you cracked your eyes open a second time, squinting down the length of the bed you were in. Your legs were there, obvious underneath the thin, knit, scratchy blankets that only a hospital possessed. You tried to shift again, but even your hips didn’t feel like a part of your body. Your eyes flew open completely, tearing up at the brightness of the room.

Shuddering breaths pulled deep hurt, but you tried to shift again and again but there was no movement underneath the blanket. None.

“Okay, alright, querida, please. Take a deep breath, it’s-it’s gonna be okay.” Frankie. It had been Frankie speaking to you, close to you. His hands reached out for your own, where you had pried them from him to try and prop yourself up, wires and tubes pulling, clattering against each other and making your head swim. “The doctors-“

“I know this must be quite a shock, but it’s good that you’re awake!” A white coat, thrown over a modest skirt and blouse, blonde hair. A kind face, pinched. A furrowed brow. Bad news on the tip of her tongue.

You tried to speak, demand why you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. But you could only croak out the faintest notions of words. Everything was a blur, the hospital room you were in a mess of blue and white, the beeping of machines hurting your ears. Nothing made any sense, confusion coloring every thought as to how you got here and why.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, your body is pretty weak right now. Can I get a level two meal delivered to room thirteen eighty-nine, please?” She turned to address someone who had been hidden behind her, a nurse in teal scrubs.

“Tell me.” You managed to croak out, eyes fixated on her pinched ones.

“I would really prefer to get you a little acclimated.”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered toward Frankie, as if in a silent plea to get him to calm you down and put you at ease however little he could manage. But you ignored the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder, eyes trained on the doctor in front of you as you tried to find more strength to speak around the dry cotton feel of your mouth, the panging hunger that was present in your stomach, the lack of control over your body.

She sighed, arms holding the clipboard in front her in an imitation of a fig leave over her hips.

“We had you in a medically induced coma for the last two weeks. I’m not sure all of what you remember, the brain is fickle that way, pushing things and events out in response to trauma.” She didn’t look from you as the sound of fast steps approached the door, nor when a large figure moved passed her and came straight to your right side. It was Taylor. Both of the most important men in your life on your sides. He was quiet, but you could see the evidence of tears in the puffiness of his eyes, the lack of a smile on his face as he hovered close.

“You were hit in the sacrum and coccyx region, paralyzing you from the waist down. We performed three surgeries to remove the bullet shards and repair as much of the damage as possible. Your blood flow and reflex reactions have improved but we had no way of knowing if anything truly worked until you woke. A week has passed since we stopped inducing you, we were beginning to think you might not wake up.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, medical terms floating heavy in the air of the room. Daunting, terrifying, life altering. You didn’t think you could handle another life altering event of this caliber. But it didn’t look like you had to traverse it alone. You teared up once the doctor left the room, offering to come back and talk to you once visiting hours were over, though she had mildly glared at both men as she said it. But knowing them both, they had been alternating staying the night to watch over you past the set hours that allowed for them to be present.

You had two wonderful men who were willing to do anything for you, one with a friend group who would follow his lead and the other who had given you so much already. You hoped it wouldn’t be too much, taking what they were willing to give.

“It’s a lot,” Taylor’s voice broke, his words spoken through eyes glittering with tears. His hands tight around yours as he leaned his forehead against yours, completely in your personal space. “But we’ve done somethin’ like this before and we can do it again. We can do it again.”

You could only nod, throat and voice still weak from weeks of disuse.

He walked closer to the side of the bed, the man’s large build shadowing over you in the dimmer setting of the lights you had requested. The full effect of them too bright for you eyes after being unconscious for so long. You reached out to him, urging him to sit atop it as best he could as you all but threw yourself at him. He let you, aware of Frankie standing close to the other side, eyes watering as he heard the cries that began to bubble up from you.

“I-I-“

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re both here.” Taylor murmured, as he wrapped his own arms around you to pull you close. He smelled like your apartment, a mix of faint buttercream and the rose perfume you favored all rolled into one comforting scent. His own masked by the time he had been in town. “Alfred was here too, but he had to be taken back for school. He sat with you every day for that first week and read to you. He was so worried about you, mami. He kept talking with you like he always does, hoping you would wake up and respond.”

Frankie excused himself, his phone beeping in his pocket and the sound of you crying too much for him to handle all at once. You watched him leave the room, his shadow visible through the blinds in the window looking into the room as he paced up and down the hallway just outside. His voice a low murmur as he spoke with whoever had been trying to contact him.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…or you. I’m so sorry, that call – it must’ve been so terrifying.” You hiccupped into his chest, unable to stop the tears and emotions from flowing all at once, overwhelmed and completely at a loss of how to respond to anything at the moment.

Hushed words eradicated any ill thoughts you were having of yourself, comforting in their genuine indication. He assured you he had been able to handle it, that he was able to handle the hard things that came along with being bonded with someone for life, for knowing someone for so long. For having already done something similar before. But yeah, that it had been scary but Frankie had been as detailed and direct as he needed to be, levelheaded in his description of what had happened and what immediately happened afterwards.

Frankie came up to you both as he entered back into the room, a hand on both your shoulders to get your equal attention. You looked up at him with watery eyes, feeling so proud of how everyone was trying to keep it together for you but guilty at the same time since it had been something they had been dealing with for weeks now.

“That was the airline, they need someone to come in and take over a few tours for double pay. I wouldn’t normally turn them down and I will if you need me here. You’re awake now and I want to be here with you.”

“Y-you should go, if you want to, if you need to.” Scratchy words spoken with what little conviction you could muster. He was conflicted, worried about making the wrong decision.

“You need me here.” He didn’t argue so much as read the thoughts in your mind as clearly as if you had displayed for him to see. “You want me here.”

“Yes, but….money is money, Frankie. For your house, for your daughter, for everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’m gonna run and get a coffee before you head out, I’ll stay the night, okay?” Taylor announced before he pressed a kiss to your temple and stood. Leaving you and Frankie truly alone for the first time since you woke up. You reached out to the man, gripping his open flannel shirt and lightly pulling him toward you. But he didn’t budge, his feet stable on the ground and his back not leaning to meet you. He wasn’t looking quite at you, but just beyond you. His eyes a little distant.

“I’m sorry.” Pulling your hands back to rest in your lap, you began to twiddle your fingers, unsure of what to do, unsure of why he was acting so weird and distant. Maybe he was just exhausted, mentally wiped out from waiting and waiting for you to wake up. Maybe…he was rethinking everything he’s once promised you…

“Hey, no, you don’t have to be sorry.” His eyes caught your own, his hands reaching out to hold your own as he kneeled down to be at your eye level. Emotions you couldn’t read swirling behind them. “I just- It’s just… you’re awake. And I’m so scared I’m going to open my eyes or wake up and you’ll still be unconscious…or passed.”

“I am awake.” You insisted, worried about this being an elaborate dream all the same. Some made up fantasy your brain concocted in its last moments and none of it was real, that you weren’t real anymore.

“I want to stay,” He pleaded with you, desperate for you to understand how hard it is for him to make the decision to leave, to heed the call of an entire week’s worth of pay in just a few days. But he had a plan and he had to stick with it, it would be for the best in the long run.

“C-can you stay tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweet girl. I promise. I just- this is important. For the both of us. I swear.”

“I believe you, Frankie. I love you.” You lifted your intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles. He repeated the words before he shrugged his jacket on and bid you goodnight. He didn’t kiss you back, instead squeezing your hands twice in farewell.

“Hermosa, I-I just-“ Frankie hung his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees the next evening.

He had gone home to change and get a little sleep after a hectic two days of back to back tours. A touch restful now that he knew you were awake, but still fleeting. His thoughts had been a jumble as his mind flashed your unconscious form across the backs of his eyelids. Bleeding, hyperventilating, being rushed into emergency surgery not once but three times. Of you completely still save for the slight rise and fall of your chest laid out in the hospital bed. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing or diminish anything but- just thank you.”

“You saved her, at such a great risk to yourself. But you did, you saved my little girl when I couldn’t. I have endless love and admiration for you, querida. Please, I am here for you. I will help you with whatever you need or want. And not just because of this, but…but until you don’t want that anymore. You’ve got me, sweet girl. I promise.”

The conviction in his tone was strong despite the way his words were pushed out with deep breaths, trying to keep his composure. His shoulders were quaking with the effort he was holding back another wave of tears. Too many emotions for him to handle since the second you had rushed in front of that gun aimed at his daughter.

“Come here,” You softly compelled him, trying to shuffle atop the bed. Feeling still numb below the tops of your thighs, only some control over your legs that you were trying not to dissect. Going over your charts and test results had helped a little, compartmentalizing that it was happening to you and mind working to help solve and reason the things you read as if it was a patient of your own. Work. And a lot of it was ahead of you.

Frankie shuffled up and out of his shoes, choosing to urge you forward softly so he could be the one resting against the back of the angled bed. He helped to situate you against his chest, his arms coming around you in a warm embrace, the smell of his cologne and body wash puffing up and surrounding you in a comforting way. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head, nose shuffling in your hair and making you sigh out at the human contact.

“I would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even knowing what would happen.”

“Te amo. Te tango mucho amor ti, querida.” He whispered hoarsely in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. All you could do was repeat the words to him, meaning them with everything in your very being. Bringing his hands up to rest over your heart, palms flat over your chest, you both just laid there soaking up each other’s company.

His thoughts took over as you felt your breathing even, reaching over to silence the television that had been playing quietly in the corner where it was installed high on the wall.

‘Everything was so loud, a cacophony of too sharp frequencies grating on his ears as he watched the way your body fell to the ground. The man with the gun fleeing from the scene as soon as the gun had fired, steps heavy as he ran as fast as he could. Pope taking off immediately after him, his own gun pulled from the holster attached to his belt. Permission to carry it around off the clock from one of the local military bases where he worked as a freelance advisor.

Frankie was rushing too, toward you. Toward his daughter. Toward you both. There was a pool of blood forming beneath you, having twisted yourself to prevent from falling on top of Alexia’s smaller frame. She was kneeling beside you, tears running down her cheeks as you reached up to cup her face. A pinched expression on your features and blood blooming dark low on your front. His little girl turned to him as he crashed to his knees behind her and brought her in a crushing embrace to his chest, hearing the hum of the crowd that had begun to form all around.

Shouts to call 911 and responses that more than one person was already speaking with officers, telling them of what had just happened.

She begged him to help you.

She begged him to save you.

Shouting at him in her small voice that she loved you and she knew he loved you too.

She buried her face in his chest as he leaned forward to try and get your eyes to focus on him, but you were barely able to keep them open. Lashes fluttering as your breath became labored. He was speaking, words falling from him as he fell back on years of training. Pinging questions off one after the other, getting no response from you for even one. Unresponsive in the worst way, body completely laid out before him and eyes now completely closed. You could’ve been sleeping, as you were still for a fleeting moment.

But then you started to convulse, body fighting against the bullets that had landed deep in your body. He tried to tilt your head toward him, to avoid you biting on your tongue or choking on your own breath.

A new set of hands was taking over, gently ushering him away as paramedics appeared on the scene.

He could only hold tight to his sobbing daughter as he watched the two technicians tend to you. Your chest ceasing heaving at an alarming rate, your breath almost rattling as your lungs desperately tried to keep working.

Blinking rapidly, Frankie focused his eyes on his hands curled over the controls in front of him. He was flying, the landscape of the city and surrounding greenery, the ocean all laid out before him. He was okay, you were okay. Alexia was okay.

He was at work. He was okay.

His fingers twitched at the clueless ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the tourists clamoring for views outside the windows. Their voices coming in clear through the headsets they wore to match his own. Completely in their own world and no problems plaguing them. Carefree.

He was at work. He wasn’t okay.

He should’ve stayed with you.

He should’ve turned down the offer.

But he had run at the first opportunity. Unable to stop the events from replaying in his mind on a loop.

Preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from being able to look at you half the time. Seeing you as you had looked right after the attack, seeing you as they rushed you onto the ambulance, seeing you as your chest went completely still once loaded up. The way your body didn’t respond to the attempts of resuscitation.

Mind torturing him by projecting you laid out in an open coffin. Copper hair resting around your lifeless frame, beautiful face covered in the wrong shade of makeup, hiding the freckles that dotted your face from him. Forever closed eyelids hiding your bright eyes from him. Black dress hiding your soft skin from his twitching fingers, itching to trace the delicate ink that decorated your skin. A masterpiece taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

Shaking his head minutely, he shoved the fake notions out of his head and pivoted the helicopter toward the coast. Following and announcing the route for the tour that the people sat behind him had requested.

He was at work and he didn’t think he’d ever be okay again. But he would try for you, because you were awake and waiting for him to return to you.

He pulled his sunglasses from where the frames were hanging from his collar and covered his reddening eyes.’

“Come on, two more steps and we’re home free.” The physical therapist was encouraging in the most grating of ways. Your normally polite and civil personality being shattered by the turn of events your life had taken. It was a lot of work now, but it had been a lot of work to initially discover that you had only minimal feeling and control over your lower half. Hips sore no matter how much medicine was added to your IV, legs numb and unresponsive more often than not.

But that didn’t stop the doctor from putting you on a physical therapy track of two appointments per week. Something you had thought was a lot right off the bat but not wanting to argue. Just as angered by the quick pace as you were determined to stick to it. It was the second week since waking up, discharge looming like a storm over the horizon, visible but not yet tangible.

There had been talk about Taylor renting a home to move into for the duration of your recovery. His son being taken care of by his co-parent back home with school having started. But Frankie had offered up his own home, a flush to his caramel skin as he did so. Not having wanted to ask you to move in under such dire circumstances. But he would be lying if he said the thought of offering you a space in his home hadn’t been on his mind lately.

Taylor had offered to split his time between Frankie’s and the apartment above the shop. An outpouring of love from the community delivered to the shop and hospital in overwhelmingly equal parts. Baskets of treats, flowers, cards, vouchers for services from all around the city and local vendors. Everything was being toted back between the two spaces that were now yours.

Lex indulging in the treats as she sat with you in the afternoons after school. Homework laid out before her atop the bed as you helped her with her math and writing. Different people picking her up while Frankie returned to work, determined to put in as many hours before he took two whole weeks off to help you transition to being home once you were discharged.

But right now, you were stood on shaking legs, arms braced heavily on the bars on either side of you as you stood between the set up of the parallel bars. Sweat dripping from your hair thrown up in a haphazard bun, skin sallow from the medication you were on a strict rotation of. You had forgone shoes, insistent that you wanted to be able to feel anything should it come back to you while practicing.

Your arms were shaking, holding up the entirety of your body weight on them, muscles straining and tattoos looking distorted with the flex of them. With a huff, you shifted your hips, right leg lifting slightly and managed to shuffle it about a foot before placing your foot down flat and tipping forward to even your weight with the new stance.

“Alright, you did it!” The nurse was a kindly young man, his arms hovering behind you as he waited for you to tap out. But you sucked in a deep breath and concentrated. Shifting your left foot ahead in the same manner before a spike of pain shot up from the arch of it as you settled it flat on the mat.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, I’m out. That’s all I got.” You wavered, arms shaking and legs beginning to tingle where you could feel them.

“That’s okay, you did good today. Four steps is progress.” The nurse helped you, gathering your form in his arms and lifting to get the pressure off your aching shoulders.

Santi was in the room when you were wheeled back, no sign of Taylor or Frankie. He informed you that they were both taking care of something for you which made you feel a little uneasy that they hadn’t told you themselves the night before that they wouldn’t be in to see you today. The nurse let the man take over with helping you get back into the bed, knowing you’d rather it be someone who you knew handling you for something a little more intimate of a move.

The man’s broad shoulders tensed as he supported your nearly dead weight, completely at a loss of energy from the days activities.

“Did they say where they were going?” You inquired, voice soft as you nuzzled your face into the man’s neck. He smelled so good and you were just in a very physically affectionate mood in wake of not getting any direct attention from Frankie in the way you were too hesitant to ask for.

“Mante, you know I would tell you if I knew, but they were like school boys, shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact. I’m sure it’s just a surprise for you, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, allowing the man to situate your aching legs as best he could and covering you up with the blankets that had been brought from your apartment. He busied himself with getting a take out bag unpacked and placing containers over the collapsable table attached to the bed for you. A cup of coffee that smelled of caramel and foamed milk pressed gently into your reaching hands. He was so diligent, the soft curls of his graying hair falling over his forehead as he focused. When everything was set up, he settled into the chair beside the bed with his own container and began to dig in.

But you were still, only a sip taken from the hot coffee handed to you.

“Santi…”

“What is it, hermosa?” He looked up from his food, utensils loaded up and a bite halfway to his lips. “I get the wrong thing?”

“No,” A small smile offered to him as your heart fluttered in your chest, unsure of how to even broach the concerns that were crashing over you in overwhelming waves. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

The man watched you, eyes scanning your face as you averted your eyes. He let out a quiet sigh and set down his utensils completely, asking you to tell him what was really on your mind.

“Frankie…he, um, he-“ You felt like a complete idiot as your face heated up, tears welling in your eyes unbidden. Foolish question, it was such a foolish thing to be worried about when the man’s words were nothing but reassuring and loving. “Why won’t he kiss me, Santi?”

“Is that what you need right now?”

You warbled out an affirmative. Feeling for all the world like a pathetic lovesick fool even surrounded by everyone who you could possibly need in your life right now, everyone working together to help you in any way possible.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A shake of your head was all the answer you could muster up.

“He’s probably just trying to respect you, not wanting to put pressure on you to be that way with him if you’re too overwhelmed.” Santi went on to explain that his best friend had trouble with stuff like this, showing his affection and feelings in wake of traumatic events.

That you should try not to worry too much, though he knew that was easier said than done. To not take it personally, but he admitted to knowing that might be hard to do as well, everything so much at the moment. He reminded you that you could reach out to you with anything at any time. He would try his best to be there for you in any way that he could. Even jokingly offering to pepper kisses over your face and approaching you with overly pursed lips until you erupted into a laughing fit at how ridiculous he looked as he loomed closer. He sealed the conversation with a genuine press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hands cradling your face in their warmth before he moved back to his seat and ordered you to eat.

Across town, Taylor and Frankie had a similar conversation as a bell dinged above them where it was nestled in the doorway to a shop front. The two men determined to surprise you with something that Frankie had quietly brought up one night following your first rush into emergency surgery. An approval of sorts he had been seeking after was granted instantaneously with a smile and words of encouragement from the only other man he felt like he could share the conversation with at the moment.

“Discharge papers should be processed by end of day, looks like you’ll be spending the night in your own bed.” The doctor offered you a small smile. She had been worried about having you under her care when she found out you were a once trained medical technician, knowing how bad of a patient she was when sick herself. But you had surprised her, not talking over her or voicing opinions on what needed to be done. It had been another week, progress made in physical therapy.

You were able to walk the length of the parallel bars, slowly and with a lot of huffing and puffing. But it cleared you for outpatient treatment. The feeling in your legs was spotty, coming to you mostly in the mornings when you first woke up and at the end of the day after resting for a few hours. Something she was only mildly worried about, muscle atrophy from being unconscious for so long lingering even now.

But she had been confident that the feeling would come back completely, though she was honest when she said she was worried about numbness flaring up.

That’s how you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck as he pulled into the drive of his house. He was waiting for the garage to open, in order to make it easier for you to walk straight into the laundry room instead of having to attempt to tackle the stairs to the front door. Everyone would be over tomorrow, to celebrate your release. Giving you a free night to settle in and mentally deal with the shift in environments. Lex would be at her grandparents so Frankie could focus on getting you settled.

“One moment, just…want to get something set up before I help you out, okay?” His earnest gaze widened his beautiful eyes, watching you and making sure you were alright to be left alone for a moment. He was through the door and back in the garage in a matter of minutes, a shy smile aimed at you as he helped you down and got a walked ready for you. It had a cushioned seat in the middle, in case you needed to take any breaks when trying to move about. Something you wanted to argue but didn’t have a good one against.

You felt…weird. Having to rely on him so much, but extremely grateful that he was willing to. You’d seen friendships and relationships fall apart with this much stress and similar situations. Both as a professional and a civilian, as a friend. You only hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last things he did for you before telling you it was too much, that you were too much. Love could only encompass so much before it wasn’t enough to hold two individuals together.

Melancholic and depressive thoughts abundant as you tried to come to terms with what the near future would hold for an unknowable amount of time. There was no timeline with things like this and that’s what worried you the most. What if you had flares of numbness for the rest of your life, what if he began to see you as a burden, as work he had to come back to after doing his shifts at the mechanics and his flying tours. What if all your progress was meaningless and you woke up one day with no feeling at all?

He had hushed you on more than one occasion with soft words, promises he wouldn’t do that. Promises that he was yours, that you were his, that you were in this together. But doubt crept in regardless. Even more so in the realization that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. He was quick to dodge your advances, placing placating touches of his lips to your hair instead; of pulling you tighter to his body instead. Almost as if he was hesitant to show you affection in that way and it was hard to handle when all you wanted was that type of comfort from the man you loved so completely.

His hands were warm as he supported your weight, but he didn’t shift you down to the ground completely, instead he pulled you flush against him. Your own arms tightened around his neck, feet barely touching the ground as he ducked his head to kiss you fully for the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed. You melted into him even more, welcoming his lips against yours reverently, desperately.

The plush give of them against your own feeling like a true welcome home.

Shifting your hands up into his soft hair, you knocked the cap clear of his head as you parted your lips for him. He held you tight, not risking you putting too much weight on your own feet for even a second as he kissed you again and again, lips meeting yours in a dizzying display of his unfettered affection. Pulling at his curls, you pivoted his head to deepen another kiss, desperate for his touch and his taste. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes slowly, watching the way his face was completely relaxed. The lines of his age smoothed out slightly as he moved to peck one last kiss to your slick lips.

He had set the table up before picking you up, at home during the day as he had received your hopeful text about the paperwork this morning. But he had run inside to pull everything from where it was keeping warm in the oven, lighting twin tapers set in the middle of the dining table. You tried to hide the squeal of surprise as he lifted you up completely, choosing to carry you bridal style over the threshold of the house and through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

“Frankie, you didn’t have to do all this.” You placed a kiss to his cheek as he carefully set you down into a chair, making sure your legs were situated how you wanted them. “I woulda been happy with a fast-food drive thru, you know that.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.” He moved over to the closest chair, settling down into it with a sigh. He looked nervous, you realized as you took in the dinner had had made before picking you up. One of your favorite dishes filling the kitchen with its tantalizing scent. The boys had snuck in food from time to time, but it had mostly been bland hospital food for a majority of the last three weeks.

Frankie cleared his throat, your eyes lifting from the items on the table and toward him.

In his hands was an emerald velvet box, open to reveal a simple gold band with a sparkling rhombus diamond in the middle.

Your lips parted, a gasp falling from them as your heart stuttered hard in your chest. Hands dropping the utensils you had just picked up clattered to the table and you stared across the table at him. At a complete loss for words as he nervously shifted in his seat and leaned closer toward you to take your hands in his own, the small box set down gently beside your plate. His hands were shaking slightly, his nerves obvious as he bared his soul to you with his next words.

“Sweet girl, I know things are going to be touch and go for a long while,” He took a deep breath, chest pulling the fabric of his shirt taut with the action. His tongue peaked between his lips, a habit you noticed when he had a lot on his mind, and he was trying to sort through everything. “But I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with us, with you and me. You have me, you have me until the moment you decide you don’t anymore. I hope you don’t ever change your mind because I’ve been gone on you since the second you aimed that glare in my direction all those months ago. Will- will you do the honor of marrying me?”

Tears welled up the longer you looked at him, his eyes so wide and open, his voice cradling you with his earnest words. All you could do was nod, voice caught in your throat.

He let out a deep exhale, pulling a giggle from you when he broke out into the widest, goofy smile you had seen on him yet. You mirrored him, lips pulling as you squeezed his hands and leaned forward to rest your forehead against them clasped together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Fransisco. Of course.” You kissed the tops of his hands, one and then the other before you were pushing yourself up slightly, tentatively placing weight on your legs and surging forward to kiss him.

He only let you get away with one before he was standing from his seat and kneeling in front of you with the box in his hands. He carefully removed the ring from its spot nestled safely inside the velvet cushion and you held out your left hand for him. It took a second for him to place it securely on your ring finger, snug and perfect against your skin. It glittered in the candlelight and you felt a tear run down your cheek.

Frankie’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips connecting with yours as he chuckled breathlessly at having managed to pull out the surprise proposal. At your resounding yes. At the prospect of a concrete future with you.

“I love you so much, thank you for...for everything.”

“I love you too, you dork,” Your laugh sparkled against his parted lips. “I can’t believe you just thanked me for agreeing to marry you.”

“Well, you could’ve said no.”

“Not in a million years.”

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taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

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itskindamagical · 11 months

Text

Criminal Minds: the moment they realized they are in love with you

AN: this one was just a cute excuse to write some sweet fluff with Aaron and Jack. In this Jack is a little kid, around 5 or 6 so again early seasons plot and character wise. This one is much more focused on Hotch and his internal monologue, unlike part 1

AN Edit: Sorry this one took so long. I had mixed feelings about how this one was going the entire time I wrote it.

Part 2: Aaron Hotchner

You were on the phone with Hotch and you knew he was pacing in his hotel room in frustration. Speaking to you was the only thing keeping him from loosing his mind. You always let Aaron vent to you, and with a job like his, he needed to do plenty of that so you two called often. At this moment he was explaining his current predicament to you, trying not to sound too frustrated. You could practically hear his footsteps grooving the carpet in the room. He paced while telling you how irritated and disappointed Hailey would be at him. He was half way across the country and would be getting home tomorrow night instead of today. The jet was having technical difficulties, which would postpone his flight home. Aaron was supposed to be meeting Hailey to pick up Jack for the weekend tomorrow morning, which was impossible now with the delay. He’d have to tell Hailey to hold off an entire day, messing up whatever plans she had. It irked you just a bit how much Hotch would beat himself up in the name of Hailey and her judgements. In your opinion, he shouldn’t be spending his time frustrated with the thoughts of his ex wife. That, and the fact that it wasn’t a big deal. Aaron was such a pessimist and it took a toll on him. You’d stay up late on calls with him in hopes it would relieve some of the weight on his shoulders. Hopefully he would let you help him with this.

“Aaron, let me help. I’m off work tomorrow and it’s been so long since I’ve gotten to see Jack. I don’t mind.”

“Y/N, you know I can’t ask you to do that,” he shot your request down immediately. You took a deep breath.

“Aaron, please drop it with the pride. You work too hard at your job already and still give a hundred percent to your son. You don’t have to do everything. Causing this extra stress for yourself is useless,” you paused for a moment and let him digest your words. “You are human, and I want you to have night where you come home with as little stress as possible, so just let me do this for you.” Aaron was a little taken aback with the forcefulness of you words, and equally as so with your kindness. He forgets how much you care. He fought with himself for a short while. You were so sweet and convincing. Your personable and almost charming nature had Hotch keep you at arms length for a while. He couldn’t just open himself up to you. He was afraid to become close with someone again. Nothing scared him more than falling for someone.

“Alright, you’re convincing. You can stay at my place. You know where I keep the spare key,” Aaron gave in. Your kindness resonated with him and he did need some help.

——————

It was almost midnight when Aaron got home from the bureau the next night. There was a soft rainfall as he unlocked his side door. Swiftly, he moved to punch the code into the alarm to keep it from blaring. He knew Jack was most likely sound asleep at this time. He placed his raincoat on the rack and walked into the living room on the way to his bedroom. The tv was on but muted, showing reruns of a children’s cartoon. Aaron set his briefcase down. He looked to the couch, which you were sound asleep on next to Jack, who’s head rested on your shoulder. You both looked so at peace while you slept to the hum of the cable box, ignoring the sound of rain pattering on the roof and the noises Aaron made entering his home.

Seeing you and Jack resting peacefully struck at Hotch’s heartstrings. He thought he probably hadn’t seen anything as sweet and cute and loving since he had been through his divorce. He knew it was silly, but Aaron thought you looked beautiful in the glow of the tv. Your features looked so soft and you looked so peaceful when you slept. Jack looked so comfortable next to you and he knew you loved Jack like he was family. Family. That’s what this reminded him of. Domestic bliss. Seeing you and Jack at home after a long and stressful case was just what he needed. The wonderful sight before him made him realize something. This is all he ever wanted. To come home to you and his son at the end of the day. To have that comfort and love and stability. A fond place to keep his heart, people who loved him. A family. Aaron was wishing every night was like this. The warm and intense feeling in his chest was almost startling to Hotch. It had been so long since he had felt that way. For so long he feared this feeling, this revelation, as he had been fighting and pushing away his feelings for you for so long, but watching you and Jack sleep so calmly and happily, it confirmed the feelings he’d been rejecting for so long. It was so powerful, and it made him feel such joy, he didn’t want to push it away anymore. He loved you. The thought was resolute. He was finally ready to accept it.

After staring lovingly at you and Jack for a few more minutes, Aaron decided to get ready for bed, and went to take a quick shower. He let the water hit is back and thought about you, and what being in love with you meant. He was never one to over analyze his feelings. He always coped with his feelings by pretending they were insignificant. This, being in love, however, wasn’t insignificant. When he saw you with his son, he had this sweet, paternal feeling. Did that mean he wanted you to be like a mom to Jack? He wanted to come home to you everyday. Did that mean he wanted you to live with him? He shook his head free from thoughts because thinking about dating and marriage and having kids was extremely heavy. Aaron needed to go to sleep and face his revelation’s tomorrow, with a clear head and as much sleep as he could possibly get.

——————

You awoke with a start from a strange dream, which you immediately forgot. What? You turned your head to see Jack sleeping soundly next to you. Oh right, sitting for Aaron. You then noticed a light in the room over had been turned on, and the sound of water running. You froze, immediately stricken with fear. Someone was in the house. See, rationally no one would immediately panic, but being close friends with an FBI agent who gets up close and personal with serial killers always leaves a lingering bit of paranoia in your mind. You fought over what to do and decided to go check where the water was running, but you surveyed the room first. Your eyes stopped at Aaron’s briefcase on the floor and let out a massive sigh of relief. Oh, Aaron got home. You still went into the room over to see that there was no one there, and checked the alarm. It has been reset to “home mode” which reassured that the person taking a shower was Aaron, as he would be the only one to know the combination to reset the alarm.

You checked the time. Practically midnight. So you gathered your things, preparing to leave when Aaron was done. It looked like it was going to be a long and dreary ride home, with the pouring rain and the soft roll of thunder. Great. The thunder reminded you of Jack sleeping in the other room, so you went to to check on him. You saw him laying on the couch, still sleeping soundly. He must be a heavy sleeper. You go back over to sit next to him. The tv was showing, ‘Clifford the Big Red Dog,’ a cute show. You watched it mindlessly and yawned. Your eyes felt tired, but then you heard footsteps into the room. Aaron walked in with damp hair, just wearing a t-shirt and some shorts. You started blushing. You rarely ever saw Aaron without a suit on, or at least some type of professional clothing. He looked good, handsome, but also tired.

“Welcome home,” you looked up at him and smiled sweetly. Just your pretty, soft face made his heart melt a bit. And, in the spirit of not choking down his feelings, Hotch gave you a warm smile back. This made you blush more, so you looked down at the floor.

“Jack and I had a lot of fun today. I can’t believe I actually fell asleep, guess all the running around tired me out,” you yawned and then continued on a little bit about what the day was like.

“Thank you,” Hotch was still smiling, which was rare for him. It made your heart happy.

“Don’t mention it, it was great. I needed a change of pace anyways. So… how was the plane ride home?” You looked up at him again, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes. He didn’t even have to answer. Both of your eyes drifted away from each other to look at Jack, still sleeping. “We should probably get him to his room, huh?” Aaron slowly and carefully picked up Jack off the couch and you followed him as he brought him to his room and set him down. Immediately Jack curled up and was comfy with his head on the pillow. Aaron pulled his truck blanket over him. This sweet paternal moment was very heartwarming, and honestly special. No one really saw Aaron when he was like this, so you felt pretty honored. Internally, Aaron was very aware of you watching this moment. It was vulnerable for him, even though he didn’t indicate that it was in any way. When walking into Jacks room, Aaron’s mind was on your phrasing, “we should get him to his room.” You hadn’t realized the way that sounded until after it came out of your mouth. He thought the phrasing should make him happy. It was you showing a bond between the two of you, and you had said it so freely like it was true.

After a few silent moments, you tapped Aaron’s hand and motioned your head to the door. “I should probably get home. Hopefully the storm dies down.”

He didn’t want you to go, especially to leave so you could drive in a dangerous storm right after midnight. He thought about asking you to stay, while you both walked out of Jack’s room. Thunder cracked in the background as you grabbed your things. You paused and looked up at Aaron again, sending him a soft and tired smile. Both of you were thinking the same thing, “aren’t they a sight for sore eyes.” He just wanted to be near you, to be in your presence for a little bit longer. You were inwardly hoping he would ask you to stay. His house was warm and comfortable and you just wanted to stay with him. Now specifically but also in general. Hotch wasn’t the only one who had to accept their romantic feelings.

“Y/N,” Aaron paused for a moment, “you can stay, if that’s what you want.” You had to hide how happy his offer made you.

“Thanks, I wasn’t really looking forward to driving home this late.”

“I can get you some more comfortable clothes. You can take my bed,” Aaron turned to go back to his room.

“Don’t be silly, you are sleeping in your bed, I can take the couch. I already slept on it for half of the night,” you weren’t one to scuffle, but you were tired of Aaron putting people before himself.

“Y/N,” he didn’t face you. “I let you do this for me, so don’t argue-,”

“Aaron. You just came home from a horrible flight after a long and stressful case. You need sleep,” you stepped closer to him and brought your face close to his and smiled at him again. “Please?”

“Alright.” It looked like Aaron was finally coming to terms with his feelings.

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #david rossi #spencer reid

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autisticempathydaemon · 6 days

Text

[M4F] Inside the Mind of Your Goofy, Nervous Next Door Neighbor

Tags: [Vanilla] [Internal Monologue] [Silly] [Pining] [Masturbation] [Speaker Orgasm] [Stream of Consciousness] [Mental Ramblefap] Mentions of [Athlete] [Shower Sex] [Creampie] [Sweatpants]

Type: NSFW

Tone: silly, casual, occasionally insecure

Setting and SFX: Inside your head, so possibly a slight echo?

WC: 1,280, ~11 - 13 minutes

Author's Notes: Yeah, Geordi of Redacted Audio fame was a big inspiration for this; how could you tell? /t

[Knocking, footsteps] I’m coming! Hold on, hold on, let me get some pants on! I’m-

[Door opening] (startled) -coming! Hey, neighbor! How are- how are you? What can I do for you today?

Oh, shit, is that mine? The new Amazon guy must have dropped it at your door instead of mine. It was so nice of you to bring it over.

[Awkward laugh] (Trying to be funny and failing) You didn’t open it and look inside, did you? I’d hate to have to swear you to secrecy or else.

[Pause]…because it could have been a, you know, sex toy or disembodied finger or…

…something awful or…

(Weak) It’s underwear.

[Laugh] Yeah, let’s say that I just woke up. That explains why I’m sticking my foot in my mouth, absolutely. What about you- just finished a morning run?

That’s so cool. I’ve always thought about getting into it, but if I had to run in circles by myself, I’m pretty sure I’d bore myself to death.

[Laugh] (Flustered) You’re so sweet to invite me out running with you, but I’d hate to be a bother and slow you down. In fact, you probably want to get to your own apartment and shower, and I’m keeping you…

[Pause for realization] (Even more flustered, rambling) -which is not to say you stink or anything! Or that you look messy! I just imagine you’d want to get clean after exercise, you know? You actually look amazing, and you probably… smell…

[Groan] (Abashed) See what I said about the foot in the mouth?

You planning to do just that only helps a little bit, but I appreciate the attempt. I should let you get to it; I’ve kept you long enough. Thank you again for bringing this over.

Yeah, maybe I’ll see you later. Have a good shower!

[Door closing, pause, thunk of head against wood, internal monologue begins] “Have a good shower”? Really? That is not a normal thing to say, man. You don’t end a conversation with your drop-dead gorgeous, hotter than the sun neighbor with “have a good fuckin shower”.

How should I have ended that conversation?

I don’t know, dude, some normal way like “bye”. Like “have a great day”. Like “I bet you smell so fucking amazing. Please let me kiss you and find out whether I’m right”.

Maybe not that. Don’t tell the beautiful girl you think about how she smells. Also, don’t tell the beautiful girl that she brought you your underwear. That’s weird.

Why do I think that’s weird? Everybody wears underwear. She wears underwear. I wonder if she has the pretty, lacy kind or maybe something skimpy and red-

[Thunk] This. This is why we’re weird. This is why we still don’t know her number or her type or her name, because we keep thinking about her underwear and because we just bought super Mario boxer briefs with little 1UP mushrooms on them.

Ha, if we keep thinking about her in lingerie, we’ll have mushrooms in our pants and on them.

I’m going to do the world and her a favor and become a hermit. I am a problem and god’s punishment to women and a dipshit. This is why I’m single. This is why-

Is that the sound of the shower starting next door? Fuck, that means she’s naked on the other side of the wall- naked and sweaty and bending over to peel the leggings off her body.

I want to lick the sweat off her neck and shoulders.

That’s weird… but also really hot. Am I into that? Is it the sweat or the idea of the sweat dripping down the skin of her neck and between her breasts, down her stomach?

[Groan, optional schlicking and moaning begins] Pretty sure it’s the breasts. I wish she weren’t showering over there. I wish hers was broken so she’d have to come over in a towel and borrow mine like in that video last night. God, if you exist, could you make my life a porn set for just one day- just long enough for the girl of my dreams to borrow my shower and say we should share to save water?

I bet her voice is so much better bouncing off the shower tiles than through the shitty, thin walls.

That’s gotta be why people are so into shower sex, right? Why else would they risk the slippery floors and rapidly cooling water?

I’d rather fuck her somewhere softer, quieter- somewhere like this couch. I’d love to sit her down after a date and talk, get to know her, get to touch her.

God, I’d love the opportunity to take her out on a date, go around town with that gorgeous fucking girl on my arm. Even better, I wish I could make her dinner, have her sit across from me like she lives here instead of next door, like she belongs here.

If I took out for dinner and a drink, I could see her in that dress and heel combo she wears out on Friday night sometimes. That’s really tempting, but if I made her dinner, I could see her cozy and comfortable, and god is there anything cuter than a cozy, sleepy, beautiful woman?

If she was over here in those patterned sweatpants that sit on her hips like a halo on an angel’s head, I might just propose.

Better yet, she could be here naked- naked and under me and soft and warm and wet and letting me touch and spread her thighs, letting me pin her hands by her head so I can grind against her and slip inside-

Or I could bend her over the arm of the couch. I could spread her open, bury my face and tongue in her pussy, show her how good I could make her feel, find out if she’s a squirter.

Shit, wait, no, then we’d make a mess on the couch.

Who the fuck am I kidding- I couldn’t care less. She’d be a gorgeous fucking mess under me, and I could make a mess of her, cum on her ass and watch it drip down her skin.

God, those thighs looked so goddamn good in her workout gear today, thank god for Lululemon.

Her mouth looked even better. I’m surprised I managed to talk to her when I was just thinking about how kissable her mouth looks- and how fuckable. She’s always beautiful, but I bet she’d be even more beautiful with her lips wrapped around my cock, cheeks hollowed, spit dripping down her chin. I’m pretty sure if I saw that and looked her in the eyes, I’d cum right down her throat, and Jesus, that would be so hot.

It’d be hotter if I came inside.

(Nearing climax) I’m so right; if I got the chance, I’d have to cum in her, fuck her sweet and close, missionary-style first. That way, I could wrap her thighs around my hips, dig my nails into her waist, feel her breasts pressed against my chest, her arms around my neck, and her lips next to my ear, moaning and sighing and saying she loves me-!

[Orgasm, deep breathing in the afterglow, pause] (Chill, drained) Fuck, I am down bad. That was sappy, man.

[Cleaning up, moving, wiping, etc.] Get her number, get her name, have a normal conversation with her, and then we can start thinking about her telling us she loves us, you absolute dipshit. At this rate, she’ll never want… to…

[Pause, groan- the post-nut clarity] (Aghast) Fuck, she asked me to go running with her. Fuck, she was flirting! I’m an idiot!

#boyfriend asmr #asmr #audio roleplay #asmr roleplay #written by SunnyScripts

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plaguedoctormemes · 1 month

Text

In fact, looking back on -core aesthetics and the way plaguecore kind of had a soft trendy moment now and then kind of makes me think on the whole topic of the sort of ‘tribal’ nature of subcultures gentrification, authenticity, and ‘gatekeeping’ and whatnot. I don’t know if there’s a unique balance on communities, communities that base themself in a sort of look or interest, and those communities growing in numbers or in level of acceptance.

I think in my mind, in sharing something, you have intentionally or not have allowed it to come under scrutiny. Some people will be inspired by that thing and do great things with it, and some people will (rightfully) criticize and want to expand the thing so it encompasses things that that original aesthetic/interest/whatever hadnt before. Someone will inevitably wildly misinterpret that thing, and do everything in their power that they can to make that thing ‘their’s’. Sometimes that wildly malformed and misinterpreted thing becomes the norm. Sometimes that malformed thing becomes something of its own- and may even BE BETTER than the original shared thing.

I don’t think that interests, shared experiences, aesthetics, hobbies, music, or anything of that nature can be securely kept in a binary between “people who are in” and “people who aren’t in, whether they want to be or not”. I think a lot of people share things for the love of them because they always have been told that you share the things you love or are passionate about. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with not sharing something, whether it be for protective or selfish reasons.

It’s kind of like keeping that nice secluded picnicking spot to yourself. If you shared it to too many people, you make never have that comfortable solitude again, between you or your loved ones. Sharing is great. But sometimes keeping things for yourself is also great. Especially in the age we live in now. It’s good to know you’re not alone, that you’re not some kind of freakish outlier on something. But I think there’s a level where you lose your sense of individuality and personhood.

I’m not really going anywhere with this, or any sort of unique insight or answer to the topic of individuality and gentrification in the social media age. Just kind of sharing some internal monologue.

#the doctor is in

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etherealising · 2 months

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Hi Vee!!! I hope you’re doing well and congratulations on 1K woot woot <3! I was wondering what some of your favorite songs are right now and what are some of the songs that remind you of aiekoy currently? For me it’s definitely Pigment by HER, unthinkable by Alicia Keys, and Do4Love by Snoh Allegra both sonically and lyrically are what I usually listen to when reading aiekoy!

bestie bestie bestie…i hope you’re sat and ready for this presentation you’re about to receive. also the pfp is so cute i love that for you!! 🥰

firstly i am doing well thank you for inquiring, i hope the same could be said for you my love! also 1k wowie! most are bots and pages that don’t interact but we’ll take our wins where we can get them! please babe prepare yourself for this behemoth of a post! 💕

some of my fav songs atm are…

nothing matters - the last dinner party

this song makes me feel like i’m a witch in salem and my neighbor wants me hanged because he thinks i seduced his wife with witchcraft but we’re actually just two ladies in love

history of man - maisie peters

i’m a whore for greek mythology references and girly pop got me

rapstar - polo g

word for word bar for bar i could sing this song drunk

megan’s piano - meg thee stallion

dare say this is my hype song (could also sing this song faded out of my mind)

slow burn - infinity song

gives me 90s vibes and i love anything they put out (it inspired aiekoy chapter 12 heavily)

walk like this - flo

listen flo has been doing it right since cardboard box i don’t play about these girlies!!!!

the way things go - beabadoobee

i actually have a carmy one-shot based on lyrics from this song 🥲

songs that remind me of aiekoy:

only you - yazoo

i mean this one feels kind of obvious to me, it literally inspired this whole fic and without it aiekoy would have never seen the light of day.

cybah - syd/lucky daye

listen okay, this song just speaks to my sole and i promise you everytime i hear these lyrics i can see baby and carmy in my minds eye just going through so many different scenes its absolutely crazy. this song is just so intimate to me and it reminds me of the soft intimacy barby shares.

loved by you - kirby

this song is so carmy coded it inspired an upcoming interlude and anytime i hear it all i can think about is barby (mostly carmy) and all the scenes i have planned to write about in interlude 3. this song gives me very much carmy’s internal dialogue throughout this series and that’s basically what the interlude is as well. this song also really inspired me to keep writing this series when i was ready to just give up on it and idk it just holds a special place in my heart (also shoutout to s1e4 of the bear for introducing me to this song 😭)

ros - mac miller

i feel like this is so out of left field but it just fits! also very carmy coded imo just hearing this song immediately makes me think of barby and lyrically i just feel like it fits them almost perfectly (also heavily gives carmy’s internal monologue).

honorable mentions:

achy bones - ash the ghost

dark red - steve lacy

i like the way you love me - brenton wood

back in town - florence + the machine

bestie brattyb’s immaculate music taste:

pigment

literally gagged me, i was not ready for that! i love the mixture of singing and spoken word it was so beautiful and i feel like it balances the love and toxicity that can sometimes be present in relationships and it screams barby. you really put me on with this one bestie it was such a good choice!!!

unthinkable

a classic really miss keys rarely misses. listening to this song i could literally see scenes between carmy and baby playing out in my head which is always inspires me to write. like oh my goodness how have i not considered this song before this is literally barby’s relationship in a nutshell!

do4love

bestie you really have superior music taste. this gives me like the ‘missing’ years between carmy and baby. especially baby trying to move on and create a life outside of her love for carmy and her little Chicago gang.

i genuinely love you so much for all the constant support you have given me and this funny little series i decided to write, also thank you so much for participating in my 1k celebration your ask forced me to go through the aiekoy playlist and remember why i love writing this series so must and it has really inspired me to keep writing for aiekoy!!

please enjoy the long awaited playlist i’ve been meaning to share (apologies in advance there’s some random songs that def don’t belong and i’m too lazy to delete) 🫶🏽🤍

#etherealising’s 1k celebration ੈ𑁍༘⋆#bestie brattyb doesn’t know what she got herself into #i could write a paper on the music for aiekoy #you are literally my favorite person for this ask #music is the way to my heart i love you for this #I hope you are well lovie 🫶🏽#vee answers °•. ✿ .•°

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ardentlytess · 2 years

Text

holy fuck this episode of takara-kun to amagi-kun really pulled out every insecurity i’ve ever had from the deep dark depths of my brain & put it on display via amagi’s internal monologue

& him standing there, crying, after thinking all his fears & uncertainties have just been confirmed by the person he cares about most— that he is just as undesirable & burdensome & broken & shameful & worthy of abandonment as he’s always been lead to believe— thinking to himself, “i want to go home.” & “but where is my home? where should i go back to?” & “who would like someone like me?”

paired with the flashback of his own mother trying to get him to speak, to express himself, saying, “if you keep quiet i won’t be able to understand you. why don’t you say anything?please say something.”

literally destroyed me

because i’ve had that exact conversation with myself a million times over

i’ve had that exact conversation with my own mother a million times over. knowing that no matter what i said, no matter how i tried to express myself or get her to understand, she wouldn’t. there was nothing truthful i could say that wouldn’t lead to a bigger conflict.

so instead, you bend. you stay quiet. you say, “about that. it’s okay.” you say, “from now on, i’ll stop saying hi to you at school.” you say, “i don’t want to do anything that upsets you.” because you’re certain, after everything you’ve been taught, that your very presence will. you say, “i want you to feel at ease. don’t worry about it.” & “you don’t need to explain.” & “i get it. you don’t want people to think that we’re close.” & you compromise until there’s nothing left of you to compromise with (or, in amagi’s case, until you meet someone who teaches you that you’re worthy of existing just as you are, without minimizing yourself at all; who says, without hesitation, “i like you. i like you so much,” just because you asked; who says, “would you like to ask for anything?” & honors your request like it’s the least burdensome thing in the world; who says, “my ultimate condition to achieve happiness is you being happy,” & means it wholeheartedly, because you’re simply that important to them).

#takara kun to amagi kun #takara-kun to amagi-kun #tl;dr takara kun to amagi kun is actually a work of art & i was not expecting to be so viscerally emotionally attacked this ep #but for real #the emotional depth given to these characters is mind blowing to me for a short series that i originally thought was going to be all fluff #& i love every single second of it

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everybody-loves-purdy · 1 year

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So I just went through Starlight, and yeah, it's definitely a lot worse than I remember! And the thing is, Squirrelflight does judge Hawkfrost at least partially because of who his father was, but I feel like if he'd actually appeared pleasant and if Leafpaw hadn't distrusted him already, she probably wouldn't have thought badly of him in the first place, regardless of his heritage!

And then he goes on to accuse Firestar of the same thing and I just can't sympathize with him at this point. He goes on and on about wanting to be deputy and even seems to expect he'll be chosen (at some point, thinking that he's not deputy yet), but Firestar is still grieving for Graystripe and he hasn't even had an apprentice at this time, so he just comes off as naive at best and incredibly insensitive at worst, even if he never voices his ambitions aloud. The fact that other cats even bring up the possibility of him being deputy one day doesn't really make it any less annoying, either.

Yeah I feel that Squilf comparing Hawk to Tiger internally was

a) Prompted by Bramble bringing the idea up in the first place

b) Because he was acting really sus and power hungry and Leafpaw didn’t like him after seeing him take power. If someone has had a parent such as that and then you see that behaviour repeated in their offspring it’s hard not to draw comparisons. It’s not like she thought the same about Tawnypelt or Mothwing, despite Tawnypelt choosing to go to ShadowClan as well, because she knows Tawnypelt is a good person.

And like you say it’s not like she ever says it to his face and he just starts assuming that’s what she thinks and gets really angry at her, despite him also thinking about that.

And yeah now onto how he thinks of everyone else in this regard. He’s just so exhausting to me. Firestar hasn’t given him one single reason recently to think that he doesn’t trust him. There was the whole Fire and Tiger sign that was misinterpreted but that whole thing was explained to him and forgotten about 2 books ago, and it’s not like Bramble thinks about it in his internal monologue at all anyway so if it’s intended that this is a reason he thinks he isn’t trusted, it isn’t conveyed at all. If anything Firestar puts a lot of trust in him after the whole Fire and Tiger sign confusion is resolved.

The way Bramble’s internal monologue comes across to me it just seems he’s always trying to find a way to be the victim. Literally just after Tallstar says that he would make a good deputy he starts thinking to himself about how cats only see Tigerstar in him. When Firestar refuses to name a new deputy and therefore that accept Graystripe as dead, Bramble gets angry at him and think he doesn’t trust him!

It would be different if the books actually have Bramble a reason to think his clanmates don’t currently trust him, but there is none, no one says anything or treats him any differently, apart from praising him and automatically looking to him for leadership? Yeah Bramble, they really do all not like you and don’t trust you.

Like you say, I could sympathise with him more if he didn’t keep going on and on but it just doesn’t stop and there is very little reason to justify it.

He’s one of those characters with a great concept but poor execution imo

I’m sorry if this has come across at all ranty lol, it’s just rereading TNP is causing me to slowly lose my mind because of Brambleclaw in the second half of the arc.

#anonymous #Bramblestar

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callmebearx · 5 months

Text

scars with a t

“She hated them. I told you that.”

He’s always so delicate with the way he approaches the topic of her, and I am not dumb enough to pretend it’s not because he knows I am liable to snap all the way off over whatever new tidbit I'm going to learn. I have long resolved to dying angry for the wrongs she did to this man and the saintly patience and compassion he offers his own personal demon.

“She wasn’t the brightest. You had a total stranger tell you that they’d kill to go one round with you. It’s not just because you’re built like a fucking tank, Cowboy.”

“Sure ain’t because of these.”

“They tell stories. All of them.”

“You keep saying that.”

That’s all it takes for me to push the invisible line between us, hands closing around his face to make him at the very least face me. We both struggle with eye contact… I won’t expect what I can’t promise. I will, however, require him to acknowledge my desire for his attention and focus.

Unsurprisingly… he meets my gaze for a second before kissing the tip of my nose and then shifting his eyes off mine; my cue to say what I need to, that he’s listening.

“She hated them because they represent your resilience, baby. They’re reminders that every single thing that has tried to make you a postscript fucking failed.”

The weight and bite in my words isn’t meant for him. It’s meant for her. For the way she convinced him that he was something to fear and hate, rather than celebrate and worship.

And I will never know what to do with that.

She had the easiest job on earth.

She couldn’t even do that.

There’s a crack in my voice when I go on, and I’m grateful he’s not watching my face as it happens. Not because I don’t want him to see me affected, no. He’s seen that. He’s felt that and fixed it so many times now… but because I hate the worry that would be lurking in his eyes. The ever constant concern that he caused this emotional break, because she made him think that every emotion that wasn’t good was on him.

He will probably never understand that he is the best reason to break.

“I love them. Because healed scars are proof you’re still here. A world without you isn’t one I want.”

Fingers twist into my jumper, pulling me closer as he processes what I am saying, and I feel it start to click.

“They really don’t bother you? Any of them?”

“They all bother me, because I know there’s a story that hurts you behind each one. That’s the extent of my discontent, though. Beyond that… they are beautiful illustrations of the ways you’ve thrived in environments that wanted to be the last you experienced. They remind me that you’re unstoppable. She can hate anything she wants. Her feelings don’t matter in this little world we have here, together.”

She doesn’t have to like anything about him.

He’s not hers.

He’s mine.

And I am more than content to build a religion around the way he loves me and lets me love him.

She doesn’t have to like his scars… but I will forever adore the stitches and lines that tell the story of just what a force he is.

There’s silence. It’s not uncomfortable… it’s light and I can almost feel him taking in my words and sitting with them before he tries to counter, probably weighing if he CAN counter without me arguing… and it is comical how I can almost hear his internal monologue about it before he wisely chooses not to argue my points. I know better than to think he agrees, or even fully buys it. I’m a while off from him feeling the truth of my devotion in his bones. But if it even just sits on the surface of his mind as a small relief, I’ll take that small victory.

Healing is a marathon, and you have to pace yourself.

How lucky am I that he makes that so easy?

#as you wish ; [ mister ]#he's at it again ; [ bear pretends he can write ]#dream a little dream of me ; [ writing about the boy again ]

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mint-yooxgi · 9 months

Text

Control - Yandere!Incubus!Jisung

Yandere AU & Incubus AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Jisung X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,658

Warnings: Violent thoughts at one point and implied murder, very smutty themes (he's essentially in the middle of the act with you while this is going on hehe). Mentions of potential kidnapping, but nothing comes of it. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I'M BACK BABEEEYYYYYYYY!!!! Lmaoo it's been forever since I've posted anything, or at least, it feels that way, so I hope this can satiate you all for a bit. Things have been a bit slow, but I'm feeling good about this one, better than I have been with my writing for a while. Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Tenth of The Feral Drabbles

You don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming about this… to complete ravage you and claim you as my own.

A blissful sigh escapes my lips as I look down upon the wondrous sight that is you, naked and spread out beneath me. Months of meticulous planning have finally all come to a head as I run my hands up your sides, caressing your body like I’ve always dreamed.

Finally, you are mine, just as I’ve always been yours.

Long since have I been watching you, keeping an eye out for anything and everything that might spark an interest for me in you. You see, my sort of clientele deserve a certain… care when I decide to take them on. The seduction is all part of the thrill of the game.

But you? Oh, you?

You are most certainly not a game. No… You are everything I’ve ever desired, and so much more…

All of the others were easy to figure out, some flowers here, some compliments there, and poof, I had them right where I wanted them. Yet, you made me work for it. You made me earn it, and by the time I did, I could never hope to accept anybody else but you.

You are now my sole desire in this godforsaken universe. The only one I will ever want. The only one I will ever need.

You see, Darlin’, you have this smile… A smile that just lights up the entire room whenever its radiance graces your features. It’s brilliant, and the first time I ever saw it, I was captivated. The way your eyes crinkle during such an expression of joy set my heart racing. An odd, and rather foreign feeling, as I’ve never experienced anything quite like it before.

I had to have it for myself.

Sure, there’s been other times where my clients have smiled at me - smugly, flirtatiously, genuinely - but none of them were you. You have a certain charm that’s addicting, and I couldn’t help but wonder what that smile would look like gracing your features because of me.

I wanted to make you laugh. I wanted to make you happy. More than all of that, though, I wanted to know what that smile would look like pulling at your features as you gazed down upon me, my tongue buried in that tight, wet heat of yours. Perhaps, even what it would look like as I intertwined our fingers together, hearing you sigh in bliss, begging me for more as I made you come over, and over, and over again. For me, and me alone.

That smile would become a product of my love for you, in whatever ways it could. Soon, it would be only reserved for me, and not that fucking coworker of yours that seemed overtly friendly with you. They really enjoyed cracking jokes, didn’t they? Not so funny when it’s their skull cracking instead…

But, I digress… what I had to do to ensure you fell into my arms after all this time is my own business. You don’t ever have to worry about a single thing.

You even seemed to have a soft spot for animals, so it became nothing for me to start walking the dogs under our care just as an excuse to see you. They love you, almost as much as I do, you know. They know you’re mine, and they’ll protect you, and care for you almost as fiercely as I will now. They know that no one is allowed to touch you but me. We have to protect such a delicate being, after all.

Gentle… you’re always so gentle…

But you have a dominant streak in you, don’t you, Darlin’? You enjoy taking control, especially earlier in the night when I had you in my lap.

Fuck- just thinking about those plush thighs around me as your hips shifted above my own has me twitching again in anticipation. I can’t get the feeling of your hands off of my skin, your fingertips having burnt trails of passion all over my shoulders as you attempted to ground yourself by holding onto me. I can still see the way your head tossed back in bliss, your movements stuttering as you came just from the friction alone.

You don’t need to be embarrassed. I came, too. I always come, even just to the mere thought of you.

That’s just the effect you have on me.

Oh, but I let you have your fun. I let you take control, and was it ever a sight to behold. To be able to indulge with you in these desires of yours has filled me with no greater joy. Seeing you take control like that…

I was made for you, Darlin’, and you were made for me. Never shall we be parted again. I won’t allow it. You are mine, and I am yours. Now, until forever.

The shock on your face after I told you that it was now ‘my turn’, well… it still has such a warmth building in my chest. It made me think, though, that perhaps you’re not used to receiving the love you deserve. I’ll deal with those other fools that dared make you believe you weren’t worth the same love and care you show them later. Right now, I want to focus on you.

Oh, the way my body comes alive at the feeling of your hands all over me. Every stuttered breath, every whimpered moan, is yours. Your name is made to fall from my lips, as mine is made to be graced by yours. You should know, all of my reactions are of the purest variety I can offer, for you and you alone.

I just hope you will do the same, and from the way your eyelids continue to flutter in bliss, I can tell this will be the case.

That’s it, Darlin’, feel my hands caressing every part of you. Let your body come alight beneath my touch, squirming and begging for more.

I will give it to you. I will always give it to you. Right now, though, I want to take my time.

To think, someone who’s always prided himself on his professionalism could be reduced to mere tatters at the very thought of you. For too long I have been fantasizing about what I would do to you if given the chance - an occupational hazard, if I do say so myself - but never have I ever felt anything this intense.

My life is yours, Darlin’. You own my very soul. Every breath, every thought, every desire I have is yours. Yours to fulfill, yours to own, yours to keep. It always and forever will be.

Yes, feel my lips against your skin, feel the way my tongue darts out to taste your pulse. This racing heart, that hitch in your breath, are all because of me.

I’ve only just begun…

Let my fingers trace over ever dip, let my hands map out every curve. I want to find all the spots on your body that have you gasping, and then I want to make you tremble from the slightest of my touches. Let me please you in all of the ways I know how, in all of the ways that I am known for.

Darlin’, you know my horns are sensitive…

Oh, but you did that on purpose, didn’t you? Your playful giggle says it all. You still want to be in control…

Just relax, Darlin’. Let me take care of you.

The hitch in your breath as you see my fangs only makes my cock ache for you that much more. And that full body shudder at my nails grazing your sides? Perfection.

My breath hitches. You- you’re begging for me? You want me?

Who am I to deny the most beautiful divinity I have ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes upon.

Don’t be shy now, Darlin’. You asked for it.

Just look at the way my fingers sink into those luscious thighs of yours. Fuck- you really are made for me… and this gorgeous, weeping cunt… is this all for me?

All because of me? Darlin’, you shouldn’t have! You know how insatiable you make me.

I swear, you were created just to tempt me. To make me succumb to the deepest of desires so I could please you to the fullest extent of my own abilities. Every lick, every suck, is for you, and I can never get enough of this sweet nectar that flows from your very core, intoxicating me with just a single taste.

Give it to me.

I want your everything.

You like when I growl against this pretty pussy, don’t you, Darlin’? Well, what if I pull you closer and do it again? Oh, that made you clench around my tongue, didn’t it?

Do it again…

Again…

More…

More! Give me more!

Feed this beast inside of me who yearns for you!

Yes! Give your all to me!

Let me see you fall apart on my tongue…

That’s it, Darlin’, feel the way I suckle this sensitive little clit between my lips. Moan for me as I let my tongue delve through those soft, wet folds of yours. Make me drunk on you, and then make it so I can never dream of wanting another. Only you.

I’ll let you in on a little secret… you already do.

Such a luscious body, Darlin’, and all mine to hold. All mine to touch, to please, to sink my fangs into and mark you as mine over, and over, and over again.

That right, grab onto my horns, pull me in closer as your thighs shake around my head. Don’t fucking stop until you’ve taken everything you’ve wanted from me, and then some.

My body was made to please you.

That is truly my greatest desire.

After all, Darlin’, you’re the one that’s still in control.

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere jisung #yandere han #yandere skz #yandere stray kids #yandere kpop #jisung scenario #han scenario #han smut #jisung smut #skz scenario #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids scenario #chubby reader #incubus au #kpop au #kpop scenario #kpop smut

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onggi · 8 months

Text

Recurring Nightmare

It’s his usual nightmare. The moon is a full, round apple, softly illuminating his mother’s body. He tries to hold her in his arms, tries to keep her with him. Even as she smiles up at him, her body melts through his arms, a pool of sticky flesh and skin that stains his fur. It’s the same thing, night after night, especially when he’s sleeping next to Blue. He doesn’t know he’s sleeping next to Blue. He’s too deep in the dream.

“Mama. Don’t go,” he gasps, holding her hand and watching as flesh melts to bone melts to nothing. “I didn’t do anything this time.”

It’s always the same, but in the moment, he’s never able to identify that. It’s like watching it for the first time every time, his mother’s slight body crumpling within the folds of her dress. White like a wedding. He feels more than sees the eyes on him, knows exactly what’s coming next when the clink of glass meeting a hardwood table reverberates in his head. The sound echoes in his mind, clangorous and repeating in on itself over and over and over and over—

“Matti?”

It’s Blue.

“It’s not safe for you here,” Mattias forces out between tremors, one hand pressed to his temple like some sort of outside force can dispel the roaring in his head. The headache, pressing down on the back of his eyes, is just another reminder of what’s to come. “He’s coming.”

Blue’s entire body is eclipsed in shadow. Only his round, wide eyes, glowing like beacons, betray his location. There’s something tired lining his face, like this isn’t the first time this has happened. It certainly won’t be the last. The dark circles beneath his eyes look especially prominent like this, the sharp contrast with the light stark in the misty, formless scape of Mattias’ dreams. Blue steps forward, but the shadows move with him.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs softly. “This isn’t my dream.”

The shadow clings to Blue’s skin. Sticky. Mattias’ mind flashes back to the image of his mother dripping through his fingers, always out of reach. Always leaving him. Always gone. There’s no way of stopping it, no — time after time, it’s always the same. Her rib cage caving inwards like a small bird crushed by some insurmountable pressure. Is it his doing? His father’s?

Blue’s voice cuts into his internal monologue. “Don’t think about him.” It’s a command, clear and sharp. What goes unsaid: if you think about him, he’ll appear. Mattias isn’t clear headed enough to know that right now.

Mattias curls within himself. When Blue draws closer, he feels the biting wind of a thousand little chills running down his spine, the essence of Nightmare itself wrapped around his body. Blue, for his part, seems somewhat remorseful. He reaches out a hand. From the tip of his finger, a maw opens wide; at first, it’s just a tiny creature of a thing, but it quickly stretches open in ways beyond logical comprehension.

“I’m sorry,” Blue sighs, and there’s that exhaustion again. Tired, tired. “Just look inside.”

Eyes prickling on the back of Mattias’ neck. He feels the compulsion to turn around. Tears stream down his cheeks, silent and unbidden.

“Don’t turn around.” Blue’s eyes are burning with determination. He could force Mattias, technically. It’s a dream. He could control it to an extent, but not in any way that is safe enough for both of them. “Look inside.”

Mattias looks.

Mattias sees.

Outstretched before him is a kaleidoscope of memories and things he’s forgotten. Blue gripping a key in his hand, ornate and dark and carrying the weight of the world. Mattias and Blue skating on a pond together. Lucifer glaring into Mattias’ eyes, Blue hiding a laugh behind his hand — that one’s wobbly, like it hurts even to think of. Mattias and Blue, Mattias and Blue, Mattias and Blue. Over and over again, a million small things. Little instances. Moments when he wasn’t so heavy with his past.

Mattias gasps. Blue engulfs him.

And then he wakes up.

Blue’s tucking a little ornate box onto the bedside table when Mattias has stopped hyperventilating, the aftershocks of his nightmare running through his body like a mantra. He doesn’t really remember what he dreamed, but he feels it in his bones. He feels watched. It takes a while for the shaking to stop, and by then he doesn’t even notice the faint glow of the box and the subtle click as the lock slips into place. Blue sits up, watching Mattias with a careful intensity that betrays the number of times he’s done this.

Locked away a dream in a box to be forgotten. Mattias doesn’t know. But that’s the nature of forgetting, isn’t it? That there’s nothing to remember in the first place?

“Are you okay?” It’s a redundant question, given the way Mattias is shaking like a leaf.

“Yeah, I don’t. I don’t know what.” Words are hard. Stuttering like a child on their first words, tripping over the syllables. “I don’t know what.”

Blue sighs, leaning back against the headboard. It’s a practised movement, the contractions of his muscles a little too fluid. Moving slowly. Don’t trigger the frightened beast’s ire. “Yeah.”

Even as the seconds pass, Mattias finds himself shaken by the ghost of something he can’t remember. “The light.”

Blue snaps his fingers and the room is filled with soft candlelight, wisps dancing through the air. Not bright enough to strain the eyes, but not dark enough that Mattias can only see squinted silhouettes.

“Do you need me to.” Blue doesn’t finish the sentence, instead gesturing to himself. It goes unsaid — Mattias has grown a lot in the ten years that have passed and admitting he needs someone to rely on sometimes is part of that, but they’re both averse to vulnerability even at the best of times. Right now is not the best.

“Yeah.” Mattias curls into Blue’s arms, his head resting on Blue’s chest. The comforting, clean smell of woodsy ash and something warm fills his nose. He inhales deeply. It’s calming, like a low hearth burning in the corner of a cottage. Coming home.

Blue strokes Mattias’ hair gently. “Yeah,” he murmurs back. Sometimes they don’t need many words to communicate. Sometimes, it’s just a feeling, and they’ve known each other for so long — been through so much — that there isn’t even a need to vocalise half the things they want to say to each other. Other times, they need to say things, because it has to be said to be believed. Things like I love you or stay with me or I need you with me.

Right now, Mattias needs Blue with him. Maybe it would be different if he knew that Blue has been locking dreams and memories and bad things away in his little box for months, poring over the repetitions. Permutations. What’s different? What’s the same? What does it mean?

If Mattias knew, maybe he wouldn’t trust Blue anymore, and that’s not something Blue can afford to let happen. Not again. Not after they’ve come so far.

He knows that there’s something watching. It isn’t just Mattias’ father; there’s someone looking through his eyes, using that memory like a projection or a disguise. A shell, maybe, and it’s as impenetrable as anything Blue has encountered in the dreamscape. If there’s an entity out there powerful enough to do something like that, night after night, creeping closer and closer each time — well, they’re in danger. What Blue can’t understand is why.

The dim light of the candles has lulled Mattias into a fitful sleep. One stroking palm against Mattias’ forehead and it’s dreamless, the dreams eaten by Blue himself. Mattias goes limp against his body, heavy like a dead weight, but even the crushing pressure is reassuring when it comes with the knowledge that he’ll be safe another night. One more night of Blue keeping vigil, of fighting to keep his nightmare magic at bay. He’s not sure if it’s his proximity to Mattias that’s causing the dreams or if it’s something intentional by whoever is out there watching them. In the past, he thought it was him.

He thought a lot of things were because of him. To be fair, a lot of them were. But now, knowing what he does today, he’s almost certain that there’s always been something else at play.

He dims the flames, being careful not to jostle Mattias where he lies against his chest. He shuts his eyes momentarily, furrowing his brows, and thinks. Outside the window, the moon is full, just like the dream. He rotates the image of the black key in his mind — the thing that Lucifer had given him all those years ago. The thing that Lucifer had died for. None of it makes sense, and yet he’s sure there’s a connection between all these moving parts. He dedicates himself to another night of pondering with the answer just out of arm’s reach, curling his arms around Mattias protectively.

Beside him, on the bedside table, the box rattles.

#oc #writing #celestial seas #mattias hellström #blue © noctuary-eyes #ub #inktober but make it browbirds.... browtober :)#txt

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