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waywardcrow · 4 months

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Timeless.

Chapter V.

Summary: 1943. 1975. 2024. Three different decades, three different lives, three different times your life and Bucky's interwined; he lost you twice, will he do it again?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader.

TW: It can change each chapter but themes of Bucky as soldier in WWII and as the Winter Soldier in general, lots of feels, a little bit of angst, fluff, two cuties pinning after each other, 40’s!reader is mentioned to be named Beth but that changes for 2024 version of her so I nicknamed her little bird for Bucky, Ace for everybody else, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: Please remember english is not my first language so if I make a mistake or forget something let me know.

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Previous chapter <;<<

Harper sent you the most astonishing suit you had ever seen.

The color complimented your skin tone, the cut was clean and highlighted every part of your body you liked; she left a note on top too.

“This is your new beginning, Ace, go get them.”

It made you smile, still you didn’t wear it, the suit was too expensive. Your choice was one black plain pencil skirt, white blouse and simple heels. Your makeup and hairstyle wasn’t too special also, you wanted Pepper Potts to see what you were capable of beyond your fashion choices.

After making your way to the tower and making all the procedure, you met your new boss.

“Maria is going to give some training and we can get some things done as we start working together” the ginger woman said behind her desk, you gave a nod and she smiled “relax; you’re going to do great.”

You didn’t know how to relax; it wasn’t in you to be able to do it.

Maria Hill, an intimidating but efficient woman, made you sign a confidentially contract which was fine with you, you were given an enormous pile of information that made you believe you were not qualified enough for this.

“Thank you miss Potts- Pepper” you rectified, giving her a list of her things to do “miss Van Dyme is coming after lunch to discuss your partnership with Pym industries and Dr. Stephen Strange asked for an appointment tomorrow too, you have your daughter’s teacher reunion at ten so maybe after it could be a good time”

“It’s perfect, Ace” the happy tone in her words made you smile. After being so long stuck with someone who only made you feel stupid, it was nice to have some reassurance.

You both went about your day and the familiar environment of the office setting helped you to focus instead of losing it, you were working with the Avengers! Your folks barely believe it when you called them, in all honesty you almost couldn’t believe it too.

The day was easy, probably because Pepper wanted you to don’t give up and when you least expect it, it was time to go home.

“Are you sure miss- Pepper?” you asked for the millionth time, obviously going home before midnight wasn’t usual for you.

“I’m completely sure, Ace. Please go home and rest, tomorrow we have a great day” not very convinced, you did what she say and after saying goodnight you took your things and walk to the elevator.

When the doors opened your heart raced in your chest.

Sergeant Barnes smiled at you when you entered the elevator, giving you enough space between your bodies.

“Are you ok, miss?” his smile faltered and you tried to look less like an idiot.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just tired” you lied “I didn’t see you all day”

In the moment your words left your mouth, heat rushed to your cheeks, what the fuck were you doing?

“I was working on something with Sam, he can be a pain in the ass sometimes” he explained without making evident how dumb you were being. The doors opened again and he walked with you to the entrance “are you going home or-?”

“Home” it was a whisper under the city noise but he could hear you perfectly.

“Maybe I could drive you there, if you want” it sounded crazy but he almost looked shy, like you were about to reject him. For a moment, the memory of your dreams about that boy smiling at you in the moonlight came back.

“Yeah, I’d like that”

It was the right answer, his face light up and it took you a second to remember how to breathe.

Bucky directed you to his car in silence which was a good thing because your head was a complete mess, what were you doing? There was no way you could deny you felt attraction towards him but it wasn’t like you were the only one, the man was breathtaking so you were just reacting to that, it was a complete different story to think something could happen between you two.

He opened the door for you with the same politeness he let you walk first out of the elevator and your hands shook a little. It was nothing, he was a gentleman, he came from the time gentlemen were a thing, for all you knew he probably had a beautiful girlfriend waiting at home, ready to welcomed him with mind blowing sex and plans of a future together.

Being the silly hopeless romantic you were, the thought made your heart ache.

“Did you forget something at the tower?” he asked again when he started driving, Bucky looked a little concerned about you so you tried to smile.

“I’m fine, sorry, just leave me near the next subway station”

“Why would I do that? You are not going to the subway and not at this hour, little bird, it’s too dangerous” Bucky was too affronted to realize his mistake but you weren’t.

“Little bird?”

For a moment you could see how his jaw clenched, like he was scolding himself but then it was gone and he gave you a boyish smile.

“It’s ok if I call you that? Just felt appropriate, you’re sweet and small and I don’t know” he shrugged before the light turned green and then you didn’t think about anything else but how perfect it sounded that nickname in his voice.

“I’m obviously small next to you Bucky, you grew up like ivy around a stone house, don’t ya think?”

The most melodic laugh came out of him and you weren’t in his car anymore, instead it was a tent surrounding you and the chill of the autumn air around you.

You started bickering like you knew each other all your lives, he asked you about your day and then you asked about his and what had him so busy with Sam which led to something very interesting.

“Alright, in my defense I don’t go around looking for old ladies to charm” he defended himself after telling you a story about a bingo night in Louisiana with Sam and a very nice old lady who gave him her number.

“You’re a heartbreaker, Bucky Barnes” you told him holding back your laugh, he was so cute when he was all flustered, you could swear you saw him like this before.

“I used to be”

He stopped in front of your building and the sad tone in his voice made you want to reach for his hand to comfort him, despite that your hand stayed still.

“I’m pretty sure you still are, maybe you don’t find the right lady yet”

His sky blue eyes found yours, making the air inside the vehicle heavy with unspoken words. His gaze never left your face; he looked like he was fighting with himself.

“I did find her, actually” Bucky finally said and your hopes crashed against each other.

“Oh” was everything you could say.

“In the 40’s, she was… she was gone shortly after I disappeared” his voice was barely a whisper but you could hear him perfectly being that close, this time your hand closed around his.

“I’m so sorry Buck” your jealousy was long forgotten, a silly crush was nothing compared to losing someone like that, when the details of his pardon were made public they said that he was believed to be dead when in reality he was captured a second time by Hydra, you couldn’t imagine how it was for his lover to lose him twice when he was alive and suffering and for him to lose the woman he loved with everything else that monsters took from him.

A heart crushing pain that was always there hit you, your soul aching for both of them, for the young soldier Bucky was, for the woman who surely waited until her last breath to see him again.

“Please don’t cry little bird, I didn’t mean to make you cry” he wiped your tears with his hands and your skin felt hot at the contact, why were you crying? God, he surely would think you were an idiot or a fake jerk.

“I’m fine, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying” stopping was impossible but Bucky didn’t look at you like you lose your mind, instead he hugged you, rubbing circles in your back. His scent of leather and mint made you close your eyes and start to relax.

“Everything is ok little bird, you’re fine, I’m fine” he mumbled against your hair.

Taking a deep breath, you calmed down and put some space between you two.

There was concern in his beautiful face and that was normal after your behavior but there was also something more, something that made you both move towards each other before a honk startled you, making you fall from his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Barnes, I don’t know what happened to me” you apologized, taking your purse before he could say anything and getting out of the car to your department.

You didn’t stopped running until the door closed behind you.

Tag list: @cjand10 @bunnyforhim @cookingdancingchick @moon-light1928

Next chapter >>>

Hiya! I know it's a small chapter but I was not at my best these past days but here we are, tell me what you think! And if my tags work! Please.

Love, Lily.

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fluff #40s bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst

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milequaritchsslut · 1 year

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Heyo! First of all, How is ur day going lovely?

Hope ur doing well and can I get hcs of how recom quaritch deals with a younger (human) partner than him? Like he's 20 physically but I think he's around 40 mentally. Thanks in advance sweets :)

Warnings: Fluff, size kink, smut

…

Ok so I feel like when he died I he was like 45-50 almost. So he’s got a lot of experience in the dating scene yk. He’s what to do and how to make you feel things ig.

Since your human let’s say your a scientist that helps the recon team on their missions so your all pretty close. But since your together all the time Miles took a huge liking to you. You also had taking a liking to him. With His muscular biceps towering over you when he has to reach over you. He caught you staring one time as he got a bottle of water from the fridge. “Yk it’s rude to stare?” As smirk spread all over his face as he looked down at you. You looked up all flushed quickly looking down. “Oh I-I uhm sorry Sir” as you scurried away. The whole team was staring at the scene smirking at the colonel.

Now let’s say you guys have an established relationship now. But this can come with difficulties. Since miles is a pretty old fashioned man at his mental age (40) and you in your early twenties. He likes to carry things for you and help you with things (maybe too much). Your pretty independent so you do have to set some boundaries with what you can do by yourself. He’s say “sorry princess I-I just thought youd maybe need some help since your so small” You’d turn your head in annoyance trying to process what he just said “I am not small miles. Your like 9Ft tall! I’m the average size for my age and I can do things all on my own I appreciate your help but I don’t need it honey” You take his hands in yours as you speak. He knows you mean it in a sweet way. He try’s his best and he knows you appreciate it.

But in the bedroom is a totally different story. He loves the size difference he loves towering over his little princess omg. He loves that he can hold you while he’s fucking you. I mean in his old body he was pretty buff but now it’s no issue he can just pick you up from the bed and fuck you as much as he wants to.

He gets so turned on by the way his hand is the size of your waist and he can overpower you easily. Since he his new avatar body is like 20 years old. He can go for hours I mean like the amount of experience he has + A new body = Best sex ever yall omg. He loves see the bulge of his cock inside of you since it’s so fucking huge.

-Thank you for this request girl 🤭 This was kinda hard but I think I did kinda good idk but lmk what you guys think cause I’m always open to feedback.

#quaritch headcannon #quaritch #miles quaritch #atwow #quaritch smut #blue people avatar #i love miles #I love Miles Quaritch

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faegoddessog · 10 months

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Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 40/41

Chapter 40: Mangoes and English Oak

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, cunnilingus, fingering, sexual mangoes reference, Sex while eating, Unprotected PiV (play safe ya'll) female dominated PiV, Pinky and the Brain reference (lol)

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes involved here.

Chapter 40: Mangoes and English Oak

Whatever it was that had been built between you seemed to evaporate with the mad fucking, the crying, the confessions and promises. Suddenly it’s like no time passed at all.

You two rummage in the kitchen, half clothed, pulling out what few things were there, clearly you need to hit the market. You nibble on toast with jam and tea with canned pears while leaning on the counter.

You talk about your travels here and how nervous you were feeling to see him again. He talks about how he was anxious to see you too. You both smile at how you felt the same way. It feels comfortable again, finally.

You hop up to sit on the counter kicking your shoes off, closer to his height now. You tell him you have 8-10 weeks, before going to begin the project for Tom and Rita.

“When you go, maybe we can visit on weekends?” he suggests.

“Oooo I like that, or meet in the middle, I do want to spend some time in France and Italy while I’m here,” you say.

“Oh I would love that! We could fuel the French rumors more!” he laughs.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “We could really keep them guessing! Do we need to address that whole situation soon?"

He shrugs, "It's not really anyone else's business. Let them figure it out for themselves, it'll keep them busy."

You nod.

"Oh! By the way, Marissa called me last week. She wanted me to thank you for setting her up with Kate. She says it’s been a dream come true. I think she may actually be really good at it,” you smile at him.

He moves his body between your legs, sliding his hands to your waist. Your breath catches just a bit.

“It was my pleasure," he says, then hears what he said and who he said it to. He cracks a smile.

You can’t help but crack up, forehead to his chest, suddenly reminded of your inside joke about Chick-fil-A. He laughs too, putting his hand on the back of your head. "Do you suddenly feel like a sexy shower?"

"Pavlov says yes... but the shower here looks tiny," you retort looking up from his chest.

"We could always wait for a rain storm, I've always wanted to fuck in the rain..." he looks outside.

"Mmm, yes please, let's mastermind that" you say, rubbing up his chest to his neck and pulling him down for a slow kiss.

After a long minute. He breaks the kiss, rubbing your thighs.

“Do you know what your schedule will be like?” you ask, trying to handle the mundane in amongst the magical.

“We just finished our mini boot camp yesterday, so we have a couple days off. I am told we should be working only during the week, so weekends should be ours. We’ll see how true that’ll be.”

“It is ok if I stay here, right?” you realize that you hadn’t asked him at all, you just assumed.

“Oh my god Kitten, yes please. I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t. I need you all to myself for a while,” he wraps his arms around you rocking slightly side to side.

It’s amazing to be in his arms again, almost surreal.

“I’m all yours sweetheart, morning, noon and night,” you look up at him.

He smiles down at you. A wave of awe strikes you. This amazing man loves you. Your mind is pulled to the little black box. You dutifully shove it away, ‘everything in perfect timing’, you tell yourself.

“How long do you think Tom and Rita’s will take?” he asks, thinking about more time apart.

“Oh, geeze,” you reply, thoughts pulled back to the now, “I can't even guess until I see it. Honestly it will depend on how fast materials get there and since it’s on an island, that will be an interesting twist!”

“Then you’ll be done, huh, with your 7 continents,” Austin remarks, “then what?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, ”I suppose we will see what life lays at our feet.”

“Our feet?” he says with a smile, “I like the sound of that.”

“Of course baby,” you say snuggling up to him, “this, this right here is my dream now.”

“Oh Kitten,” he lets out a huge breath, his arms tightening around you.

He leans forward to kiss your sweet mouth. The light kiss expands into parted lips, while tips of tongues solicit for entrance. Every other thought melts away as his kiss deepens.

Kissing him feels like the oxygen you can’t live without. It’s like you’d been slowly suffocating for months without realizing it and now you can finally breathe deep.

He pulls back from you, looking into your eyes.

“Is it alright if I take you to the bedroom?” he asks in a slightly cautious, but sultry voice, “I think I’m ready to take my time sweetheart.”

You bite your lip and nod. A smile spreads across his lips, like he was worried you’d say no. Silly boy, like you could say 'no' to him.

He leans down and kisses your mouth. His hands glide down your back, snapping open the clasp on your red bra, almost as an afterthought. He pushes his hands between your ass and the cold tiles of the counter. He bends his knees and your legs wrap around his waist, your skirt bunched up around your hips. He pulls you onto him. Your arms wrap around his neck and shoulders, helping to hold yourself on his lean body. He has gotten stronger, you have too.

He carries you, kissing you gently, to the bedroom.

He lays you down on the side of the bed, your bra sliding off. His still undone jeans, underwear and shoes come off and he stands naked in front of you.

It feels like the beginning again, even though he fucked you silly an hour ago. That was different, full needy desperation and all the difficult emotions that had built up between you. But this: this is tender wanting, laced with love and all the feels.

Your knees fall slightly together as you bite your lip. Your eyes are slowly taking in his Adonis-like form from head to toe and back again. Just the sight of him standing above you makes a little moan escape from your lips. Fuck he is magnificent.

He leans down to the bed, one finger tracing up your leg, the hem of your skirt still up near your hips. Its drape drags lightly along your bare and sensitive pussy lips as he slowly pulls the fabric across and out of the way. The barest of shudders slides down your spine.

Then his knees are on the floor and his fingers are barely stroking your lips. He gently pulls your labia apart, stretching the skin around your clit just enough to make your inner lips contract. You inhale an audible gasp. Pushing them back together, his fingers squeeze gently on the outside, near the root of your clit, massaging back and forth. Wetness seeps from between your lips.

You blow out a little moan, fuck he remembers. He pulls you apart again, blowing on your clit. The cold air makes you whimper.

The tip of his tongue runs up and down the smoothness of your labia, teasing at what is to come.

He is definitely taking his time, lips nibbling and tongue licking slowly, but not touching your clit. Not yet.

Your breath quickens.

“Lord, I missed this,” he says, almost as a prayer.

Then his fingers pull you wider, open and exposed. The tip of his tongue touches your clit. You gasp as a zing jolts you. He blows on it, then touches it again. Pause. And again.

He is watching your reaction. His blue eyes peering over your mons with his tongue out long. Fuck, he is gorgeous.

This please. Yes, this please, forever.

Gradually his touches become tip-of-the-tongue undulations up and over your nub. Deeper, rolling his tongue farther down, down, down and into your entrance.

Your breath is shallow and fast, little moans escaping with each new sensation. Then his tongue ripples up against your inner lips. His mouth closes around your clit with pulsing suction.

“Oh my fucking god,” falls from your lips as you curl towards him, hands in his blonde hair, “did you get better at this?”

His eyes open to yours and you feel the vibrations of chuckle against your labia.

“Mangoes,” is all he says with a cock of his eyebrow and a lick of his lip. Then he dives back to the veneration of your cunt.

Thank fuckin’ mangoes! Is there a god of mangoes? Because you need to deliver upon them all your offerings and praise! All hail mangoes, and Austin's tongue!

He pulls your clit into his mouth, tongue lightly flicking back and forth, then suction again. His fingers slide so slowly inside you. He is moaning into your pussy. Your body is curled tight, flexing against his face. Then his fingers curl against your front wall and like a spring you uncoil, deep moans rumbling from your chest. The back of your hands beating the mattress.

Beautiful, sweet release.

He laps at your slit, drinking in all the juices that leak out as you shake on the bed. Then his comforting weight is on your heaving chest. You stare almost dumbfounded into his eyes. He pets your hair, moving it out of your face.

“Ready for more, my pet?” he asks.

You can only nod still panting from your orgasm.

His lip curls up in a tiny smile, his little dimple appearing over the left corner. His hips rock, his cock rooting gently around your snatch, begging to be let in. You lift ever so slightly, giving him room. Then he is barely in you, just an inch or so.

He freezes. Your hips strain up to his, getting him in you a scant inch further. He lifts back, teasing you. Your hips roll and you wrap your arms around him in an attempt to pull him to you. He refuses to let you.

“Oh my,” his voice deep and penetrating, “what a needy girl you are.”

“Uh huh” you nod.

“Do you need me in you?” he says, “is that what you want?.”

"Want, need,” you moan, “please, please yes.”

Slowly, he pushes himself into you. Every inch in and every inch out has your eyes fluttering and your body shaking. Then he stops, holding himself up on his elbows and toes, letting you rut up to him. Writhing against him, your body begs for more. You do your best to fuck yourself on his cock, but it’s not hitting right.

“Let me…,” you say, pushing him off and rolling him over. You stand between his legs which are bent off the bed, feet on the floor. You plant your right foot on the bed next to his hip, your knee bent almost to your shoulder.

Rising up on the toes of your left foot, you grab the base of his cock and sink down onto him with a groan. He can’t really thrust here more than flex his glutes. He smiles as you take charge.

You place your hands on his hip bones, hunching over him like a big cat getting ready to pounce. Your hips start rolling forward, tilting along his length, then pushing down and back in a slow steady rhythm. Each stroke rubs him along your g-spot.

Oh my god it feels so good to ride him like this, to work yourself back and forth on him, angling right where you want him to hit.

His thumb slides to your clit, giving you something more to rub against, something more to moan about. Your hips move a little faster, your orgasm building deep inside He is watching you grind yourself on his cock and hand.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it,” he spurs you on, "god you are so hot.”

His other hand rises to rub his fingers across your nipples.

“Ohmigod, yes, play with them,” you start to flood his dick as the sensations from your nipple shoot right to your pussy. You are so close to unraveling on him.

“Oh lord, you are so wet, you are dripping down my balls,” he moans.

He pinches your nipple and for a split second it’s too hard.

“Not too…” you begin saying, then it unexpectedly pushes you that last tiny bit, “haaaaaa yes, fuck yes, fuck yes.”

You are exploding onto him, the contractions of your core riding him hard. You curl up over him, shaking with how good he is in you, riding the wave of your orgasm. You shake down to a stop, catching your breath.

“Oh gods, Kitten! Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” he begs. His fingers dig into your hips now, intent on pushing you back and forth on his cock. Fuck. You can’t leave him hanging.

“You like this,” you breath out, moving on him, “me mounting you this way, riding you? Yeah?”

“Yes, I do,” he moans, eyes closed, head tilted back. You had forgotten how sexy his neck was. You realize how dominating this position feels for you, you are in control, you have the power.

“You like it when I claim you?” your words coming out of their own accord in lieu of the moans of pleasure you feel bubbling up.

His head raises, lust shrouded eyes meeting yours. He nods, biting his lip. Fuck, if that’s what he wants… a slow smile sneaks across your face. You grind down on him. Shit it’s good, almost too good.

His eyes flutter closed.

“No, no, look at me Austin,” you tell him, pulling his chin. His eyes open, lost in sensation.

“You are mine. Your mouth is mine, your fingers are mine, your cock is mine, your cum is mine. I want all of you.” You put your hands on his chest, pushing him down, nails heedlessly digging into his skin, snapping your hips back and forth over him, overstimulating yourself in the best way.

“Oh fuck!” his pupils are blown, his heart is racing in his chest, he is close to spilling into you, “I’m yours baby, yours! All fucking youuuuur,” he groans out as his eyes roll back in his head. He is so hot when he cums, it sets you off again.

“Oh god Austin, yes, yes YES! ” your clit grinding on to the tight muscles of his lower abdomen as your internal muscles clamp down onto him. He groans, pleasure surging through you and through him. Your bodies are buzzing, vibrating together in shared bliss.

After you catch your breath, you climb off him and sit, leaning against the headboard. You spy the picture of you in your black dress in a frame on the bedside table. It makes your heart melt.

Austin curls up, head in your lap and his arms around your waist. You watch him breath for several minutes, his eyes closed and a relaxed smile touching his lips. He could be sleeping. Your fingers lightly connect the freckles on his left cheek in a curve then down his neck and arm.

“God I love you, Austin,” you whisper.

His smile broadens, not asleep. He turns his head to look up at you, his baby blues shining.

“I have never loved anyone like I love you, Kitten,” he says softly, finger tracing your jawline.

You stare at one another, lost in the quiet of the moment, lost in each other. You slide down next to him after several heartbeats, wanting to feel all of your body on all of his.

“This feels so good, so right,” you remark, snuggling close against him.

“Oh Kitten,” his palm is tapping his chest, “I didn't realize how much missing you weighed on me, how much it hurt. I’ve been living like that so long, the weight of it became normal.”

You nod, totally understanding what he means.

“I haven’t felt this good in months,” he says, ”and it just dawned on me that I don't hurt anymore.”

“Oh my love…” you move his hand and plant kisses on his heart, “never again.”

You spend the next several hours in the ebb and flow of one anothers embrace. You doze, you talk, you kiss, you slowly make love, you shower, you eat naked in the kitchen, you talk, your passion flares in a fiery kiss, you fuck hard, you eat again. In the wee hours of the night, you are both finally spent and curled up together. Just before you fall asleep, you press his hand between your thighs, cupping your mons. His fingertips lightly press against your labia. It’s oddly comforting. You smile and drift into a deep relaxed sleep.

………

You wake up the next day before he does. You sneak out and go buy groceries at the Sainsbury’s down the street. When you come back in, the house is still silent. You peek in and he is still dead asleep. Apparently, waking up early in distress was an Elvis shoot thing.

You had decided to make french toast when you were at the store. You even bought cream to whip, which you end up doing by hand because there was no mixer.

“Awoken by the whisk, I guess it’s better than the whip,” his deep voice resonates from behind you.

“Hey! Good Morning,” you turn around, whisk and bowl in hand. He is leaning against the door with only pajama bottoms on. He looks divine.

“Hungry?” you ask, rising on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“For you? Always.” his hands come to your waist and pulls you into a passionate good morning kiss.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up,” you say when your lips part.

“No, it was good,” his hands remain around your waist as you turn back to the counter to set down the bowl. “I was waking up already. When I realized you weren’t in bed, I almost had a panic attack thinking it was all a dream. Then I heard your racket in here.”

“My racket is almost done and is going to be delicious,” you smile, dipping your finger in the white creamy fluff and offering it to him over your shoulder, he slowly licks it off your finger. A little involuntary moan whispers from your lips.

“Mmm, that is good Kitten,” he says.

“Is it?” you dip your finger in again. Turning around, you wipe it on his chest, just over his nipple.

You lean forward, tongue out, flicking his nipple lightly as you lick up the slowly dripping vanilla flavored sweet cream. Then you cover his nipple with your mouth, gently sucking and biting.

When you pull away, he is watching you from lowered lashes.

“Mmm, is that how it is this morning?” he asks.

“With you? Always,” you nod, looking up at him, “take your pants off and go sit,” you nod your head towards the table.

A look of bewilderment flashes on his face, then he nods, untying the drawstring. Pulling his pants off right there, you see he is half hard.

“Go, I’ll be there in a minute,” you turn your back to him, un-doing the top several buttons on your blouse and kicking off your shoes.

“Yes ma’am,” he does as he is told, watching you.

You cut up some french toast into bite sized pieces, syrup, butter and whipped cream on them. You grate a little nutmeg and cinnamon on top. You grab one fork and bring a generous cup of tea. You walk over and set them on the table.

“Thank you,” says Austin, reaching for the fork.

You bat his hand away. “No, wait,” holding up a finger.

His look of confusion is priceless.

You pull his chair perpendicular to the table, so he is facing sideways. Stepping back, you slowly unbutton your jeans and make a show of taking them and your underwear off. You slide your hands into your blouse removing your bra in the mysterious way all women know and all men wonder about. You lean over him, giving him a generous view of your dangling breasts. You see he has gotten harder with your little strip tease.

Perfect.

His hands go instinctively to your hips as you lean further to kiss him deeply, passionately. Your hands slide around his neck and your legs open to straddle his lap, trapping his now hard cock against his belly. You pull away from his lips, kissing along his jawline and down his neck. His hand slides into your hair to the back of your head, pressing you to continue. His other is wrapped around the curve of your ass, pulling you closer to him.

“Are you hungry Austin?” you ask quietly, deviously. Your fingers slip the last button of your blouse out of its hole, exposing your front to him.

“Um… yes,” almost more question than statement. He is totally unsure of what is happening here, “but…and.. ”

His words hang in the air as you grab the cup of tea and pass it to your non-dominant hand. You pick up the fork, stabbing a piece of french toast. You offer it to him, letting him take the bite off the fork as you sip the tea. As he is chewing you rise up and sink your pussy over his cock. His eyes close for a second as he stops chewing to inhale through his nose.

You nonchalantly take another sip.

He swallows with a shaky breath.

You slide up and down slowly continuing to offer bites to him. His breath comes little moans as he keeps taking food off the fork.

You put the tea down.

Neither of you say anything, eating and fucking is all your brains can process at the moment.

Words would ruin it.

It’s unexpectedly erotic.

Thinking would break the spell.

He takes the fork from you, turning the tables. He offers, you chew. He flexes and pushes into you. Your eyes go wide, then your tongue rolls the flavors in your mouth, then you swallow as he pulls back.

Your breath comes out wobbly before he offers you a second bite. Again and again this slow fucking and feeding continues.

By the time the plate is empty, syrup, butter and whipped cream has dripped unheeded onto your tits due to his having to use his non-dominant hand. One drop is trailing dangerously close to your vulva. Remembering that you don’t like sugar there, Austin places the mostly empty plate on the chair next to him as you finish off the tea. As one motion he grips your ass, fixing you to him, and stands up, laying you back on the table, stopping the runaway drips of liquid sugar in their tracks. His cock pulls back as he slowly lowers his face to your vulva. He catches the drop and backtracks its pathway with a lapping tongue.

The empty tea cup slips from your fingers unnoticed.

He finds each drop of syrup, each plop of whipped cream and luxuriates in slowly licking each, nibbling his own path between each one. By the time he is done, your heaving chest tells him you want more.

He pulls back, double checking his work. He looks curiously at your breasts, realizing that they had been unsullied by thick, sweet fluid. Then he swirls his finger in the plate of cream and syrup, bringing up a creamy mix reminiscent of sweet cum. The idea of it being cum makes you want to tip the whole plate onto your chest.

You watch as he lets it drop onto a nipple, then offers it to your mouth. Greedily you suck on his finger, eyes closed. The taste makes you want to break your rules and coat yourself in it. When you open your eyes, he is watching you suck his finger, lips slightly pursed and blowing out a breath. You are guessing he’d like it all over his cock too.

He pulls his finger out and wraps his talented tongue around your nipple, holding your breast in his hand. He sucks it into his mouth, brushing the nipple with his tongue, holding it in a gentle bite with his teeth.

You moan, your clit throbbing all of a sudden. He pops it out of his mouth and works his way to your neck. With hands kneading and rubbing your breasts, he sinks his teeth into the meat of your neck. Goosebumps spring up along your arm and down your side. He pulls back, running a finger along the tiny pebbles, evidence of your arousal.

Then he is staring at your eyes, soft and full of desire at the same time. He leans down slowly and gently rubs his lips to yours, side to side. Not hesitant, but sultry. You coax him closer with your tongue darting out to touch his soft, full bottom lip. He slowly gives in to your lingual seduction, diving to deepen the kiss. Lips open, mouths press, tongues explore.

It’s hard to tell who is tempting who.

Before you know it, one hand is gripping the table edge next to your head, the other having trailed down your side, over your hip and under your ass. He lifts you just slightly, enough to give himself a straight route to your core. His mouth never leaves yours as he slowly presses into you.

A long whining moan resonates in your sinuses as he buries himself deep in your wet and wanting pussy. He takes his time to pull out, focusing more on devouring your mouth with his.

Then he thrusts in hard, using the table as leverage.

You gasp through your nose, vocal cords vibrating on the exhale, whimpering against his tongue.

Pulling out, his hand adjusts on your ass, almost massaging the flesh of your glutes. Then another hard thrust and his fingertips dig in.

God it feels so good, he is hitting you in all the right places inside.

He continues his pattern of kissing you while pulling out, and digging in his fingers while thrusting hard.

In this moment, he is beautifully masterful in his authority, his immense self control. His energy is all male, but not noxiously so. By taking his time, going slow, every thrust is slowly luring you, pushing you, enticing you to orgasm. Soon your hips are tilting up to meet his thrusts. His mouth leaves yours as he starts to moan in his own pleasure. He seems almost lost in place and time

He has you balancing on the head of a pin, for long minutes as he builds slowly.

Your breath is panting, despite the slow pace. Your hips are vibrating against him, wanting more, needing more. Just a little and you will fall apart.

He leans back, his other hand sliding under your ass. He stops for a moment, watching you squirm under him, a little decadent smile on his face. Your eyes are begging him, your hands are opening and closing, shaking, fingertips rooting at your teeth, not sure what to do with themselves.

With both hands digging into the muscles of your butt, he unleashes on you. Giving you everything you wanted and more.

Your hands fly to the edge of the table, holding on for dear life. The way his hands are digging, massaging into your ass feels exquisite, adding that much more to your orgasm. His cock is giving no quarter as it pummels into you.

The imagined weight of your eyes rolling back tilts your chin up, your throat vibrating with deep guttural groans. Sharp undulating waves roll up your spine, arching your back further and further up with each pass. Your whole body shakes with force of his hips. You ride the high as he rides you, deep and fast.

His scream comes from his gut; loud, resonant, primal. His hands squeeze deeper, pulling you onto him as he thrusts become hard and jerky, eyes closed and teeth bared. His breath holds as pushes deep with little thrusts, giving all of himself to you.

“Oh gaw,” bursts from him as the vacuum is released from his lungs. He stumbles a little against the table, lightheaded.

You pull him down to you, his torso laying on yours, his hands still trapped under your ass. Your chests heaving together, heavy breaths blow across your breasts.

Eventually he pulls his hands out from under you, standing upright. He helps you off the table, now messy with more than just syrup.

“Wow, sturdy table” he says, pulling you into his arms.

“Probably English Oak” you say without missing a beat.

You both giggle, still euphoric.

“Well, that’s one way to have breakfast,” he says.

“Right! It was freakin’ sexy though, more so than I thought it would be,” you admit.

“Yeah, I would’ve never thought to do that… but it worked. I don’t think anyone but you could pull that off though, further evidence that you are a sex magician, wait no, Enchantress” He smiles, remembering that night on the top floor of the Emporium.

“Fuck yeah!” you respond with a giggle, leaning in to gather a kiss from him.

“I’m actually still hungry,” you say, “shall we clean up the table and just like… eat?”

“Yes please! Can I have my own fork this time?” he asks with sly smile.

......

After second breakfast, Austin cleans the kitchen up while you go and actually unpack your bags. You are humming happily to yourself, hanging things up in the wardrobe, tucking things away. There is an antique vanity on the wall opposite the bed complete with a trifold mirror.

You figure you might as well use it for what it’s for and put your hair brush, makeup and brushes there along with what was left of the little bottle of essential oil Austin sent you. You also decide to be cheeky and artfully arrange your collections of vibrators and butt plugs there too, giving the blue sapphire one center stage. The whole thing makes you giggle out loud.

“What’s so funny,” Austin comes in, drying his hands on a kitchen towel he has slung over his shoulder. He’s, again only in his pajama bottoms.

“Tah Dah!” you say arms stretched out to your sex toy display.

“Oh geeze Kitten,” he chuckles blushing a little, “what if someone comes over?”

“Well, if they are invited to the bedroom, then they should know what they’ve agreed to,” you give him a sly smile.

He nods, deciding not to argue with your logic. “Well, in that case,” he walks over to a drawer in the dresser and pulls out his two hanks of black rope, the lube and his own set of butt plugs you bought for him. He hangs the rope from the corner of the mirror and puts the lube and plugs in amongst the arrangement. “There, no holds barred now!”

He grabs you in a huge hug, kissing your forehead.

“What are we going to do today Brain” you say in your best Pinky voice.

“The same thing we do every day Pinky,” he answers as Brain, without missing a beat, “try to take over the world!” He dramatically clenches his fist.

You both giggle, sharing the weird childhood memory.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” you say, sexily, leaning up to press your lips to his.

“I think so” his voice husky, his lips rubbing against yours, “but burlap chafes me so.”

You completely lose it, like in the absurd way that makes other people look at you like a loon. You are laughing so hard tears run down your face, you can’t breathe and you fall onto the bed.

Your ridiculous laughter makes him laugh too. Soon your bellies are sore and you are in a heap together on the bed, catching your breath.

His arms surround you. It’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in months.

“I do want to play with you later today, if that’s ok,” he asks.

“Yes please, anytime is a good time for playtime. What do you have in mind?” you ask, cuddling up to him.

“I have some ideas taking shape, but I think you’ll have to just wait and see,” he says… kissing your nose.

“Oooo, antici……” you leave the word hanging.

#Austin Butler #Austin Butler smut #Austin Butler x reader #Austin Butler fic #Austin butler fanfic #@purejasmine #@slowsweetlove #@richardslady121

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ladyjanstories · 2 months

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There is no winning with chronic illnesses. They can be “manageable,” but they’re not really controllable. No matter how good a person is with diet, exercise, medications, and healthy routines, flare-ups still happen. I can try and try, and it won’t matter. My asthma, IBS, acid reflux, anxiety, depression, and/or fibromyalgia can decide to act up on a whim. I avoided the triggers. I did nearly everything right and still… chest pain or gut issues or depression goes up, or I have trouble standing.

Last month, I had a cancer scare. The lump turned out to be a cyst which will require monitoring. And then I had an episode of my head feeling very heavy, like I’d topple over if I stood up. My eyes kept closing and when I tried typing something to search, it ended up as gibberish. Except when I typed it, I knew I was typing the right letters. Only it wasn’t. It’s like when someone has a stroke and they think they’re speaking properly and the people who hear them know it’s nonsense. My speech was fine. Queue blood and urine tests to make sure I’m fine… and the result comes back with an issue. A marker that shouldn’t go above 7.5 is at 30.2. That marker is to look out for infection, inflammation, stroke, heart disease, etc. Now a few days before those tests I did miss a day of work with a fever (I thought I was cold and usual feeling crappy, turns out it was some chills and maybe not usual feeling crappy.) So I have to wait to test again and hopefully that score goes down. If it does, then it’s likely I’ve graduated to silent migraines— all the confusion, eye problems, and more without pain as a warning sign or symptom. Perhaps finally reached my quota.

But it sucks. I am trying here. I am really trying. I got a new position in the last 8 months and it’s like, my body still can’t calm down. I mean, I was diagnosed (though my doc keeps the door open in case a new symptom points to something else) with fibromyalgia before this new position. And I’ve most of my problems for decades. But none of them are ever controllable. None are ever done from making my life painful and hard and… I would really like to go a few months without a new level of pain or a new issue or a twist in how an illness operates or meds wearing off… it’s tiring. So tiring. And it feels almost made-up after awhile. Like, there’s no way this is all happening. At any moment someone is going to ask, “I thought you’d found a way to work with this?”

I thought I had. I thought I’d found out how to deal with everything in a way that my body accepted and then “breast cyst” and then silent migraines.

My new job requires 40hrs a week. I was doing 38 a week before. And somehow this 40 is so much. With everything happening, it feels like so much. When I feel like it’s ok, I get a surprise fever and this.

#chronic pain #chronic illness #fibromyalgia #chest pain #why

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batman814 · 10 months

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WHY DO THEY MAKE IT SOO FN EASY FOR ME TO STARVE MYSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!!

About a month ago it was my dads birthday, so we went out to eat. When we were there my sister was not eating anything and was making up excuses not to eat. Saying oh I don’t want to spend the money, eh I’m not that hungry, I’ll eat later, or I’ll have leftovers. All we could get her to have was boba. When we got home she Really wanted to work out, she works out A LOT, idk the last day she didn’t work out.(she plays for THE BEST volleyball club in like in the state!!! Because she plays for suck a good club they obviously work out a lot to, u know get better, which probably Adds a bunch of stress for her to be like SUPER fit or sum) Anyways when we got home my parents were both super concerned, they thought she was starting to get an eating disorder and body dysmorphia. ( as somebody with an Ed I can tell u that’s right we’re my head went when she was like literally refusing to eat like any food) Anyways long story short is that she assured them that she did not have Ed, and that she was perfectly ok, but I’ll tell u one thing, that girl (me) sitting on the bed, she wasn’t ok, she was definitely, 100% worse than ok!!! (Anyways since that day I’ve been watching her a little more closely and I think she does have an Ed, but not a very bad one, maybe ortho or ana...Idrk)

AFTER ONE SKIPPED MEAL THEY WEAR CONCERNEDABOUT HER, THEY WERE WORRIED ABOUT HER, THEY NOTICED HER RIGHT AWAY,

BUT, I HAVE BEEN FN STARVING MYSELF FOR ALMOST 2 YEARS, AND THEY DIDN'T NOTICE, NOT AN FN WORD ABOUT IT, THEY BARELY EVEN FN MENTIONED IT!!!! THEY JUST BLAME MY 40 lbs WEIGHT LOSS (in like 3ish months) ON MY FN MEDS!!!!!! LIKE NO I FN WORKED FOR IT, I EARNED IT, I WOULD FN STARVE MYSELF SKIPPING LUNCH, SKIPPING BREAKFAST, MAYBE EVEN SKIPPING FN DINNER, FOR IT!!! BUT THEY DIDN'T FN NOTICE IT, THEY NOICED HER, THEY SAW HER, THEY WERE WORRIED ABOUT HER!!! THEY NOTICED HER, BUT THEY NEVER NOTICED ME!!!!! THEY SAW HER, THEY NOTICED HER, THEY PAID ATTENTION TO HER, THEY LOVED HER!!! BUT NOT ME, NEVER ME, THEY SAW HER BUT THEY NEVER SAW ME, THEY NOTICED HER BUT THEY NEVER NOTICED ME, THEY PAID ATTENTION TO HER BUT THEY NEVER PAID ATTENTION TO ME...THEY LOVED HER......BUT THEY NEVER, EVER, LOVED ME...NOT LIKE THEY LOVED HER, NEVER LIKE THEY LOVED HER!!! SHE WAS SEEN SHE WAS HEARD, SHE WAS LOVED...BUT I WAS NOT...I WAS FORGOTTEN, NEVER SEEN, NEVER HEARD... BUT ABOVE ALL NEVER LOVED!!! I WAS NEVER LOVED, NEVER SHOWED ATTENTION TO, NEVER REALLY EVEN THEIR... LIKE I WAS A THOUGHT IN THE AIR, I WAS NEVER REALLY THEIR, I WAS JUST IN THE FN AIR!!!

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whentherewerebicycles · 6 months

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I wake up multiple times at night (I have to pee all the time lol) but it’s usually pretty random except for my without-fail 4am wakeup. I have no idea what happens in my body or in my house at 4am but every night without fail I jolt awake, roll over to check my phone, and discover it is somewhere between 4:00 and 4:03am. SO WEIRD. anyway usually I put on a Calm recording and fall back asleep pretty fast but this morning I was awake for ages and now I am soooo sleepy. at least it’s a WFH day I guess. here goes:

6:30-8:30 work emails, write, send grant update, email BW

8:30-10 shower, breakfast, think about therapy goals

10-11 therapy

11-12am student presentation (put it on in the background and work on slides. do NOT overthink this do NOT get clever & creative just do the simplest version and get it done so I’m not scrambling tomorrow)

12-2 eat lunch, finish slides, take the dogs for a 30-40 min walk, follow up about website

2-3 leadership mtg

3-4 AU mtg

4-4:40 take dogs out, change into workout clothes, eat a quick snack

4:45-6 try out this weights class

watch the rest of the hockey game if it’s going well, quick shower, maybe make basil-ginger stir fry (or easy egg & avocado bagel sandwich?), write a bit hmm, read read read!

I am nervous but hopeful about the weights class! I really need to get back into a consistent exercise routine and if I can afford it/if it seems like a good class I would love to go 2-3x a week and then TRY to get myself to start jogging again. the short cold days combined with the fact that I’m still kinda dragging with light fatigue is making it real hard to get out there and get started. but ok baby steps baby steps.

#daily processing

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stfucal · 1 year

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In 2022, I began the year at about 198 pounds. As of January 1, 2023, I was 154.4 pounds. I did lose those 40 pounds in 100 days, as I joined a 100 day challenge with my mother and her friends. My mother convinced me by telling me it would not encourage ED behavior, yet I won $1200 by refusing to eat. as of yesterday, I got below 150 pounds, and I looked back on my last year, and noticed my facial shape change. None of my rings fit me anymore. I am currently wearing a shirt that used to be tight on me, but is now a pajama shirt due to how large is on me. I wonder why I am at about 150 pounds, yet I feel smaller than I was at 120 pounds. I remember being young and getting addicted to losing weight, as we all did, and thinking that 127 was too large. What I don’t remember, is what I actually looked like. I have no photos of my body or anything other than my collar bones or hands, or just a simple selfie of my face at that age, and I wonder if I looked emaciated. I don’t want to have looked emaciated, but I wonder if one day I will look back on this time in my life and think I was the same as always. I was never officially diagnosed with body dysmorphia, but I don’t believe I have to be in order to understand that I have no idea what I look like. It is the one thing I will allow myself to be self diagnosed with, because I genuinely don’t know the difference between what I looked like at 120 pounds vs. 198 pounds. All I know is that I’ve begun to get that familiar rush of endorphins when I forget to eat. I’ve had multiple father figures in my life tell me that they’ve noticed how small I’m getting, and I think often about what my best friend looks like. I worry about her, and I think about what it felt like to hug her last, and how I was worried that I would hug her so tightly that she would disappear. How is it not OK for her, but it’s encouraged in my own mind for myself? I do not want to become the monster I was when I was counting calories and counting food and counting steps. however, there’s something so addictive about trying to one-up yourself continuously. It’s making the same drive every day and trying to beat your time by one minute. Maybe today I will get there at 12:42 as opposed to 12:45. Going 75 down a 60 mph road is fine, as long as I win. I just have to win.

I wish I could formulate these into scenes and create art with what I am speaking right now. Instead, I am just getting drunk off of three beers because I haven’t eaten anything except for a coffee, a piece of a cookie, and a couple of potato chips. See what I mean? Even when I am not doing it on purpose, I count exactly every single thing that I eat. Will I ever get better? I don’t want to worry about what I’m putting into my body every single second of every single day, if I’m going to die anyway. all I think about is my mortality and my age, and the fact that every person I love will die, and a lot sooner than I think it will happen. Yet, somehow, I focus on my physical form, and use a vape because I need something in my mouth. I perpetuate the idea that vaping is OK, while the ringing in my ears daily is really the bad thing that probably will kill me. how can someone be a hypochondriac while also doing what feels good in the moment? It’s as if I hear young me telling me that nothing matters, and that I’m going to die anyway, so I might as well do the things I enjoy while I can, but also having adult me understand that I am doing a job that drains me, because I’ve never been offered something better. And what if I get nothing better? What if my art isn’t good, and I am just like every single other white girl, very basic and talking about my daddy issues that don’t matter. What if I quit the best job I’ll ever have, because I want something more, and I never get that more? What if everyone I love is better than me. I don’t want to compete, and I’m not competing, but I want to at least be in the race. I want to be involved with everyone I love, and I want to also be an artist, and I want to also feel the things that they feel. I feel like I am a robot, waking up too late, rushing through a shower, going to work, coming home, late, and then going to bed. What do I do to make myself feel anything? Cry on the way to pick up a child, so that they can see their fucked up parents? Is that who I am? Is that all that I am, just a chauffeur for a child to get traumatized?

I wish I could control other people, and not in a God sense, but in a savior sense. I’m not naïve enough to think that I could save the world, but if I could save this one woman from getting murdered this one long weekend, maybe it would be worth it. She’s a wonderful mother, and I genuinely believe that she could have her child back very soon, if the father was not in the picture. Is that my own trauma coming through? Possibly, but I genuinely believe that my life would have been better with no father figures in it at all. I still would have had daddy issues, but they would be ABANDONMENT daddy issues. I am lucky enough to get all different types of fatherless trauma: one from a dad who abused/neglected me, and then later abandoned me; one from a father who lingered my whole life and refuses to let me go, as I am pretty much, the whole reason he’s alive. He refuses to listen to me speak, and only wants to speak of his suicide attempt (which was definitely reaching for attention), even though I have made it clear that a was pretty traumatized by that experience. He continues to ask me for money, and tell me that my mother is a bitch for not accepting his mental illness (the same exact illness that I have) as a disability. How is it OK for me to work two jobs in order to pay for his TV and booze habit, but he is unable to work because “being bipolar is hard”. Every day I wake up with my brain deciding for me, how well my day is going to go. it always has to go well enough that my father will get what he wants out of me. Sometimes I think that he stayed with my mother for so long and he is unaware of how to find another young woman to pay his bills, so he went to me as the next youngest woman he knew. He knows I am my mothers child, and that I will pay the bills and get the job done, and he knows that I will overwork myself to death. Because of this, he knows that he can come to me for money, and he uses the words and terminology that he knows will get him what he wants.

All I am is a servant for everyone I care about. I was created in my mothers womb as an excuse for her to leave my father, and every day since then has been about what I can give other people. if I ever have the audacity to bring up my own thoughts and emotions, I am called selfish and rude and needy.

No one has ever loved me as much as I love them.

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walkingwiththegods1 · 2 years

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Why not feeling to Gods or Spirits, at all... Is not really a bad thing?! (Or... Why the contrary, is sometimes a real problem!)

I readed a few notes a few weeks ago, of people talking of feeling left behind or insecure; because they can't feel to The Gods, so I decided to wrote my experience; so they doesn't feel that way, because at least; all that can't feel The Gods, are the vast majority; and the rest of the Pagans said that they can really contact to Deities, but mostly speaked of the good side. I’m not very vocal about me, and neither of my personal experiences; but, by knowing the pain of my fellow pagans; I decided to left my apprehension behind: I will speak of the not so lovely parts, today.

I'm a Psychic, since I can remember: I can see Spirits since I was very little, and with the pass of time; I started to feel energies, and being affected by them.

The First Deity that contacted me, was Artemis; that never leaves me alone in my house, while my brothers and sister played far from me; and I feel less afraid around her. Many years later, the second Deity that contacted me; was Loki. (I didn't knew it in that moment: He had to saves me six years later, to realizes that the voice I hearded when a was a very unhappy kid; giving me courage while I was looking to Sirius, was his!) The third Deity that appeared in my life, was a Goddess from The Caribbean; that helps me to defend myself; when both the private school and my house, were turned for me; in hell! By the time I was 17 years old, I have already 12 Deities that regurlarly; contacted me. The reasons of why they passed from unexpected guesses, to permanently staying; are an complete mistery to me, till this day. (...Maybe is because, I never was a normal human being, by start...)

But, in that time or today; well... "Not all is rosy!", as you may think: There is a Deity, that doesn't care if the moment to contacted me; is really a very bad timing for me, and; I had even pass some very unnerving moments, during that interventions. That Deity, has a name...

...That Deity, is called: Guabancex!

The story of why The Goddess of The Hurricanes, contacts a simple mortal girl; is something I will tell in other day, but... What I can say, is that her energy is something that I can hardly ignore. It took me YEARS, to acted almost normal around other people; when she started to speaks to me, or started to mades me see visions of things to come; but, in the meantime... Many embarrasing moments. (People known or even unknown, asking me if I was okay; while she was around with this huge energy traspassing my body, or; when she was showing me," The next horrible disaster that will 100% strikes, and destroys everything... And, to anyone!")

The worst moment, (And when I started to take measures) was 10 years ago...

I was in a Medical Center, making some tests; and while I was waiting for my ticket number, while looking at the screen; it happens: Her energy, suddenly appearing; and the only thing I did, was pleading in my mind; "...Not here! ...Not in front of everybody!..." It didn't work: The vision she makes me saw, plus her energy; puts me in a weird state: Aware of the world around me, but... Aware of the vision, too! The worst part, is that I was seated inclined while this was happening; so nobody will saw that I was trembling enough, that to somebody with a sharp vision and close enough; could notices. A man in his mid 40's with glasses notices it, and asked me: "Are you, OK?!" (He looks alarmed... So do I!) The only thing I could do, was a lie by saying to him: "I'm Okay! Just... I feel a bit cold, thanks!"

After I backed to home, I feel awful: I hate lying, but telling the truth; wasn't a good idea, neither! What I could have said?! "I'm just in trance from visions of a Goddess, from a culture that died out more than 500 years ago?!" RIGHT... (...If I wanted to spend two or three days in jail accused of witchcraft, been locked for life in a Mental Facility; or... Been killed by some Christian Fanatic, that thinks that I talk with Demons!)

After I recovered a bit, I talked to her and told her; to "NEVER BACK TO DO THAT, AGAIN!" (It seems that works: I can still feels her energy and see her visions, when I far from home too; but... People never back to ask me if I'm ill, or to look at me in a suspicious way; again...)

I have seen Evil Spirits too, mostly scaring me; chasing me, harrasing me; and even trying to ended my life, since I was a kid. (I will save you the horrible details, but I think this happened to me; because I'm able to feel Spirits, in ways that most people can't even imagine; and sadly... That turns me in a sort of "Spirits Magnet" for both, good and bad spirits)

The thing with Guabancex?!... Well... It really, SUCKS! But... In my general terms, between number 1; (Not the worst thing that ever happen in my life) to 10, (the worst thing that ever happen in my life) then... Is definitly, a 6!

So, if you are dealing with the fact that you can't feel Spirits or Deities; and even started to feel a little envious or doubting of their love, then remember this: Better see them in sincronicities and with symbols while you are awake; or in your dreams, than having to train yourself to fake being "normal"; when the Spirits or Gods show up to you; while you are around of people, with the possibility that they will reacts badly against you; if they know that you have this kind of ability... Or being left alone or mocked, 'cause nobody wants to be around of, "The weird young that talks with Spirits!"

...We live in a World where, being different; is bad... And being weird, is still... "A sin!..."

Be grateful, if you can't feel The Spiritual World; so strongly: It means, that you can still hang out with your love ones; and do many things you love to do, and still be able to blends in The World; when you feel the need to be in it, too. (...Is something I don't know if I could ever have or do, someday.)

Have a nice day in being different, unique; and in be perfectly you!.. So Be It!

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castle-dominion · 9 months

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castle 6x20 that 70s show

the 70s episode liveblog

I made my big bro watch this w me bc he's 70s obsessed.

Cement? mob hit? They would have had to weigh him down bc humans float in concrete. Also yeah what do you do? the one u call is the foreman. They deal with it not you. Reminds me of the ep where the police chief constable was gay & buried a body under the station & they found it while

KATE BECKETT I’ll make the coffee. CASTLE I’ll make the omelets. MARTHA RODGERS And I am going to make your day.

Love how the bells kind of slow down & go low & get weird. I mean at least the arch was nice.

MR: Richard, I am simply trying to bring a little pageantry into your wedding. But it seems that the only role you want me to play is that of guest. Fine. I can do that. I LOVE her

You can't make ANYTHING in a wedding a not-over the top disaster.

78 just like my brother's no wait falsettos was '79. disco era my beloved. RC: And a testament to the truly indestructible nature of polyester.

Milt Boyle: Vince Bianchi. Before he turned into the pile of bones you guys found. Love his VOICE

OH OH YEA DET. SANDVICH. OR SANOVICH I CAN'T TELL. HE'S THE ONE WHO SITS ACROSS FROM BECKS. I WAS TRYING TO REMEMBER THAT THIS MORNING. also under esposito's feet, he's at Det veiss(something) or messer's desk I can't tell what it says bc it is grainy & under shadow

Love the music too. Is it black or is it a dark colour? obv not powder blue... RC: It’s like being transported to a bygone era. Mickey the Blade? Louie the Lip? Where are these guys now?

Hey Frank Russo REALLY looks like the guy in the picture who, yk, went through second puberty. Love their accents. 4ksqft is a lot wow. Broke bread, shot the breeze, I love phrases. Harold Leone, as in lee-ohwn, not lee-ohwn-ee like brad leone from bon appetit Love how Becks calls Boyle on her own desk phone bc, well, yeah. Also set design my beloved, we have a pic of sanovich's kid on his desk

He knew things? Yeah ofc, he was the advisor!

Big bro thought that maybe this gal was just wearing Black fashion. Yvonne my beloved Frozen in time? Dumbass clothes? I thought it was cute. Wow it HAS been 40 years almost...

Beckett def not 70s enough.

YVONNE: Harold? You have guests. HAROLD LEONE: Huh? (he comes from the kitchen) Whoa!!! Well, this hot mama can be my guest all night long. He approaches KB and she holds out her hand. KB: Uh, sir, I’m Detective Beckett and this is Mr. Castle. HL: Captain. HL shakes RC’S hand. RC: (corrects) Castle. HL: Oh, Captain Castle. I bet you’re showing this little lady the ropes, huh? Breaking her in, huh? KB glares at RC. RC: Well, actually, um … HL: I mean, have you ever seen a cop with an ass that fine? If this is women’s lib, I’m all for it. KB: Excuse me? RC: To be fair, you do have a very fine … (off her look) never mind.

So humorous I love this man I love everything (but how does he look in the mirror w/o freaking out? it's like 50 first dates) Big bro LOOOVED the house & colours & wallpaper & stuff.

I love Harold & BECKETT SHUT UP YOU NEED TO MEET HIM ON HIS LEVEL. I know ppl who had to chase away spoon-wielding monsters every night for dementia patients, you do it & move on. It's ok.

No body no talkie. he IS delusional! "cupcake"

clipping clipping clipping I love I love I love snookie & ray the red car the absolute mess esposito pulling over ryan (giffing that) it's just... so good I'm insane

YOU MADE A CAST OF THE BODY!? Lanie just there like "what are you talking about?" unless caslte already asked her if she had any bodies to spare offscreen. LP: I’ve seen them do more with a lot less. But I don’t want to be a part of some crazy plan – RC: You have to. Because for this to work, this place has to look like the 70s. (he looks LANIE up and down) And so do you.

I love how the wife is there & he's smoking with the oxygen & I love this. Carcano: What, I’m going to bury a body in my own backyard? Plus, if I had someone disappear they’d stay that way. MC: If you boys have any more questions you can talk to my attorney. (he moves to leave) You know, after this long the truth is hard to find. If I was you I’d quit looking for it. Sometimes what’s in the past should stay there. (THIS MAN IS TELLING THEM TO STOP LOOKING. REMEMBER WHO HE IS: HEAD OF THE FAMILY, HE WAS TRYING TO MERGE FAMILIES WITH BIANCHI.)

OH SHE IS HOT Oh LANIE IS HOT TOO. (clipping) What if he touches him?

No wallet on him? or gun?

My poor harold. Hit you he's really gone? so will you come to the 2010a now? HOLY CRAP THAT'S-- STUFF IS HAPPENING. (castle flailing when the body hand was there lol. also how does that offer ANY protection from the gun?)

JE: *walks in* So I've got-- WOAH. *seeing Lanie* LP: Not a word KR: *talking abt the case* Right Javi? JE: I'm sorry what? *was staring at lanie* LP: !! *rolls eyes* & then that last little "nice dress" to her lil bro said not to clip but OOF I kind of wish I did

Tory my beloved.

Hm, ryan's pants don't match his jacket...

RC: It won’t burst his bubble... if it...looks like the 70s. Ooh she's ranking officer rn lol. WAIT CASTLE ALREADY OPENED A COSTUME ACCOUNT BEFORE ASKING BECKETT IF HE COULD DO THIS?

"let him dig on this 70s vibe" love the music coming in there the morgue was only one room? what about the drive there or the walk into the morgue? HIS MOTHER!!!??? A little bit, yes. YEAH FOR OUR WEDDING! RC: Let’s face it. We cannot let that woman anywhere near our wedding. But … she will love this. And then we get to solve the greatest mystery of the disco era. Besides the popularity of disco itself. It’s a win-win.

his little groove back Abysmal talent pool? Martha my beloved. Rick & his mom are like beckett & castle. Beckett: castle no. Castle: castle yes. Rick: mom no. Martha: YES YES OVER THE TOP YES!

Oh & the music! & I watched an abba parody production the other day before I watched this too.

LMGDAO A HIPPIE WOULD NOT BE HERE WITH THE COPS. Ooh it's a chalkboard! (So they made the photos black & white but... didn't remove them?)

Oh no snookie & ray Martha <3 ALEXIS (wearing that /gen tho)

Why would they need scripts? if they were pretending to be snookie & ray for real they'd need the mannerisms & backstory down, but ryan & esposito have interviewed ppl before. "super groovy" *ryan couching at the cigarette* Esposito frozen with his hands up p& ryan comes in to save him Righteous is in this context, not nec 80s, besides the 70s were from like 74 to 84 yk?

jive turkey again "my god who wrote this?" I love/hate the feathered chief in there

Glitterati? Do they have pagers? REACH BEHIND YOU & TURN OFF YOUR PHONE RLY QUICK, SAY IT WAS AN ALARM CLOCK IN THE OTHER ROOM. the deets? the details?

KR: Actually, it’s been though a lot of different incarnations, but guess what? It’s back to being a 70s club again! Me: WHAT LUCK

I like his nod. "take him to glitterati-- go! go!" *gates*

RC: Captain Gates! I thought you were at a terrorism seminar? VG: It was canceled due to a bomb threat. & did he? Yes! He did! Ryan & Esposito are taking him there now!

Girl your apb thing was not FROM this charade tho "especially you" CASTLE NO DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT THEY TOOK HIM TO A DISCO!

Love the car, love the raming, love the fall, love how esposito was the one who talked ryan into this but now ryan is the one who likes it

Love the dancing & the lights & the fun & the everything! HL: *dancing really well, having fun* Dancing fellow: *also having fun dancing "with" him* HL: Hey, baby. How’re you doing, hon? That’s a nice dress. Can I talk you out of it? (kind of good, all compliments, but wow v forward.)

Yay beckett is normal now. *castle on his phone* they would SO not get his that easy with the gun & stuff. *castle banging on the door*

Always wearing the same suit, it's his club outfit! does frank STILL own it?

*esposito dancing on the clock* he does still own it. maybe that's how it connects to the murder.

HL: Oh no sweat. *SMASH* (not clipping)

I like how he doesn't want to say the year. Also he KNOWS it is not '78 but he might not know the REAL year. "It is whatever year I need it to be" that was a GOOD answer!

"The private event was frank killing him" You figured it out from the time that you got shot at.

rysposito normal looking now "we DO think you killed him?"

Last dance was on the turntable <3 <3

"someone special" we KNOW who that someone special is babes. *lunchbag of evidence*

I think I assumed he stole evidence. Ah the 70s. Gay lovers in the mob in the 70s & this is beautiful. I mean the trauma of killing someone it could totally make you think it's '78 forever. I mean, Harold was also flirting with every woman around. (Maybe that was their thing. You can sleep with any woman, but you only LOVE me) Beard, lavender marriage, his number two...

REMEMBER THE MERGER? MICHAEL CARCANO! He kept it a secret from you that you were going to propose?

for a sec I thought becks was pantsless but it was just a light brown colour.

RC: You couldn’t handle the rejection. So as he left you shot him in the back, then again in the face. You know, because it was personal. Where did she get the gun tho?

It would NOT have stayed that way, these cops would have still solved it.

CASTLE BRINGING HIM OUT TO THE CLUB

YES YES YES THIS IS THE BEST EPISODE she CAN'T disco dance tho. Yay martha & alexis! RC: I’m just glad it covers more this time. Ryan & esposito chilling having fun I love it. (Tho if esposito was born in the 70s he might remember like,, kindergarten outfits. I only remember a few that are attatched to specific memories, like that striped early 00s (or really early 2010s except it was probably a handmedown) shirt I wore during geology in elementary. Lanie is back! & her hair is normal *ryan dancing* Gates I love her I love her (reminds me of that one fic I read, it was good, I want to dance with YOU, not any of these other people who might be prettier than you, because I want you.)

Harold my beloved <3 Last Dance is def going on my playlist.

ldjsklsdfkfjsdkljf GREAT EPISODE PEOPLE

#the 70s episode #castle 6x20 #castle 6x20 spoilers #castle 6x20 quote

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lifewithoutmeds · 11 months

Text

june 29, 2023

thursday, 7:34 p.m.

as usual, upon writing, i’m feeling minimally better today than i have probably been for at least the past 10 days.

i’ve been stuck in a cycle of getting out of bed late, watching dumb youtube videos, reading dumb facebook posts, and eyes just pretty much glued to my phone every waking hour of everyday. i’m looking at weird stuff too, outside of my normal healthy stuff. i’m watching police body cam video of people behaving badly and the police actually having a lot more patience than the average person, and i’m reading a lot of AITA and “Entitled Karen” posts on facebook which are usually just a bad, ad-ridden collection of reddit posts with poorly written commentary and unnecessary summary surrounding it. typically halfway through or so, before i get to the clickbait story i had initially seen that had drawn me in, the whole website crashes and i have to go back to facebook and scroll through until the next thing catches my eye. i watch/listen to youtube until i fall asleep, then sleep for anywhere between 8 and 13 hours, depending on what i’m required to do the next day. last friday i slept for 13 hours. last “night” i fell asleep before 6:30 p.m.

it’s a weird sensation. there’s nothing in the day really to look forward to or that gives me much joy or hope. sleeping seems like the best course of action. i struggle to do simple things like take out the trash/recycling, wash the dishes. i’ve been only showering maybe once a week and even getting the mail seems cumbersome.

work is rough. i have no problem sitting at the dining table, but tearing my eyes away from the phone even for a few minutes is difficult. i sit, uncomfortably for hours on end, but get very little done. i respond to most emails but have difficult doing the work or research that they entail.

i’m not eating well, i’m not exercising, i don’t have a lot of plans for the future or goals that i can think of. everything seems quite wearisome. there may have been one day in the past week where i went outside for a morning walk, but otherwise it’s felt too hard to do so.

however, it seems the days in which i have the strength/motivation/wherewithal to journal, those are relatively good days and not representative of all of the days in between.

the last couple weeks in review: monday, june 19: had dinner with my mom at a very expensive but extremely mediocre sushi restaurant off of foothill in la crescenta next to a car wash. i should have known. we then went to the burbank AMC to watch Past Lives, and got some Pinkberry frozen yogurt in between. the movie wasn’t great, but also learning that my mom had gotten dangerously close to hanging herself at the sylmar house closet while living with my dad was extremely upsetting and triggering. i spent days ruminating over that as well as my dad’s behavior the past 40 years and wondering whether i should just cut ties with him completely. tuesday, june 20: amy ended up canceling for lunch, as she had meetings come up. wednesday, june 21: grabbed a drink with gyoon after work downtown at the arts district brewery before meeting esther and her sister for dinner at the nearby Taberu. dinner was ok, then we got a few drinks afterward at Propoganda. i tried to be in good spirits but was really struggling mentally to keep it together. friday, RDO: slept an unhealthy amount. 13 hours, beating my old record of 12 hours. saturday, june 24: spent the entire day cleaning and preparing for at home kbbq dinner with tracy and her wife. also taught and played a few games of monopoly deal. also briefly saw amy and her daughter on their way home from their visit to see jenny. tuesday, june 27: in office. wednesday, june 28: WFH plus psychiatrist zoom appointment in which i updated her on my medication side effects, namely: a decrease in itching/rash and sobbing, and an increase in sleepiness, irritability, random irrational pain in my foot, and rumination. she seemed pleased that the itching/rash had gone away and starting today i increased my dosage from 25 mg to 50 mg. unfortunately, the effective dose is 200 mg and i can only ramp up 50 mg at a time and side effects can onset at every dose increase so i could anticipate two more months of despair and side effects before feeling any better. looking ahead: friday: will be hosting xio and matt for kbbq dinner. will need to clean and buy groceries. will be good to see them, but i know they’ve been struggling physically (xio) and mentally (matt) so i’m a little nervous that we’re all so sad but maybe it’ll be ok. saturday: celebrating zoe’s bday at lana’s place. taco guy will start at 12:30 p.m. but i’ve been asked to come earlier, around 9am to come help. also to bring my Yeti. looking forward to seeing people and getting out of the house. sunday: church with mom. tuesday, july 4: will go hang out with Rhiannon as we both have no other friends and no other plans. friday, july 7: will hang out with stephen, who i haven’t seen in years. saturday, july 8: quasi-monthly brunch with amy (lee)

my life feels stagnant and without hope or joy, but i suppose a tiny minuscule part of me wants to live as it keeps texting people stupidly and making plans that i have trouble keeping up with at times.

random journal prompt: what is a unique talent that you have?

so i had to scroll through like 20 prompts before i could find something that i thought i could think of a response. i think i’m good at explaining things without making people feel bad. i think i’m a fairly good teacher and i think i do it in a way that feels genuine and well-intentioned and non judgmental. i’m thinking recently of how i taught tracy how to surf fish and tracy and her wife how to play Monopoly Deal. i don’t really get frustrated with explaining and re-explaining as necessary, and it’s so important to me that they don’t struggle and have a good time, that i think i check in a lot with them, for understanding, for their feeling. i think i’m good at not pushing things onto others if i sense they’re not feeling up to it. i think i create a non-threatening environment, and i think i’ve been able to teach and share my interests with a lot of people in that way, mainly with fishing and monopoly deal. i try to make sure people have a good time. i think that’s a good thing.

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benrunschicago · 1 year

Text

Long Run #1

12 miles - 2hr31 minutes. Sped up to tempo pace at mile 10.5 for .5, and again at 11.5 for the last half mile. Tempo I’m defining as 165 bpm on my heart rate, which translated to 9:45/mi pace. Faster, but controlled and comfortable still.

I felt my miles were significantly slower this morning. I started at 0640 and wrote that I would be gone for 2.5 hours (5 miles an hour x 2, plus half an hour at 2.5 miles): 12 ish. The first hour was uneventful, then I told myself that I just had to do a regular workout -- 4.5 done in the first hour, means it would be 7.5, what I’ve been doing the other days. I very much like that I’m marathon training and ultra running. California when I was in my heyday I’d do 30 miles once a week, spending all day. Even if I’m doing a 3 hour run now for marathon training, as I get faster that can slowly get to where I’m doing the 20 miles in 8.5min/mile pace. But for now I’m going 13 min/mile, which is OK.

It was much easier in the cool early morning to keep my heart rate under 150. There were some Texas cows grazing along the highway, and as I came to that same spot a second time--I started doing a washer cycle path in a B loop, which takes 40 minutes total and is one reason this long run didn’t hurt my brain--I just had to do 4 washer spin cycle loops : 160 minutes, or 2h40--this second time going towards the cows, I noticed a bull was there, short stubby horns on his head. And he started lowing at me. So I just turned around early, staying on the far side, and not looking at him.

Once every hour I stopped and stretched calf muscles and hip flexors. I was not going to worry about maintaining the ) run form body shape, hips forward, legs and arms pumping backwards, but I have started to feel more comfortable in that shape than otherwise. Watching tv a while back, there was a commercial for a hotel chain where a woman was running on a treadmill, but she was running with her butt kind of back and legs reaching forwards. That’s when it clicked for me what it meant the ‘parachute’ running form prompt, where you want to feel like a parachute is dragging you forward, pulling you at the waist. When I do that, I feel it so much more in my glutes.

So I wasn’t going to worry about trying to maintain that form, but now it feels better even if it’s a little harder and I can’t maintain it for long, so I tried to re-align my hips each time I noticed. After all, this kind of stuff now during base-building is what will pay big dividends later when it feels second-nature.

Only at the end of the 2nd hour did I feel tired. I considered whether I should stop for water and food but told myself to just push on and get it done. The dream of a Stella Artois non-alcoholic beer sounded better sooner rather than taking a five or ten minute pit stop.

This was the second day in a row that my coffee hit me after 45 minutes of running and made me feel nauseous and want to throw up. I was able to calm that feeling by walking three minutes, so I wonder whether to keep having coffee before or wait til after. If I just have to walk a couple of minutes, maybe it’s fine to keep going as is.

Even thought I felt tired, I told myself I’d try to start good habits on long runs by incorporating some slightly faster segments. I did that today by adding a half mile. The first half mile was at 10.5 and then the second half mile was 11.5. I feel just really good about all that.

M. is concerned me doing too much too quickly, but I told her I’m good about listening to my body and that I’ll never add more than 10% mileage per week. I also have a deload week every 3rd week. So as I neared the end of the run, I thought how good it will feel to finish the next week strong and be able to take it easier the week after.

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youremyonlyhope · 2 years

Text

Chapter Nine: The Piggyback

I don’t know what this title is supposed to mean.

I’m gonna TRY to not pause constantly. But knowing me, I will fail. Finallyyyyyyyyyyy. Jopper is canon. I do not like that Dustin is going into the Upside Down. No. “We are noooot heroes.” Stop it stop saying things like that I don’t like it. The Piggyback title makes more sense now. Don’t get El high or something please. No no no no no no no no no. Stupid redneck saw Erica. “Are you ready for the most metal concert in the history of the world?” YES. Ok so that wasn’t the Will coming out scene. But it was a Byers boys bonding scene and I’m happy to have it. Is there electricity in the Upside Down? I got a text and took a second to answer, and I just realized we’re not even halfway through. Ahhh. I love this version of Dream a Little Dream too much to be scared of it. GOOD JOB ERICA. KICK HIM. Man I knew Vecna had to be above the Mind Flayer but I had really hoped he wouldn’t be. I had really hoped he’d be under the Mind Flayer in some way. The whole “Mind Flayer General” theory had been so comforting. Ugh. It can’t be over there’s 40 more minutes. He’s not dead. But ugh they really broke Max’s arm and legs helpppp. SEE! SEEEE! HE’S GONE. HE GOT UP. See all those stupid “Oh yeah I can’t wait to see what Eddie does in season 5″ articles NO. YOU ALL LIED. ...How dare they. How DARE they kill Max. OH MY GOD JASON TOO AND WHAT A HORRIBLE WAY. This is horrific. I had to pause for a second. I’m not letting myself show any emotion because my brother is in the next room and keeps coming and looking at me. He literally asked me what I’m typing just now. My family is nosy. But anyway I can’t show emotion since I’ll spoil him. But oh my god I’m so mad. El you got lots of power but bringing people to life? Eh. Maybe. If she can suck the life source of Max out of Vecna maybe.

TWO DAYS LATER!?!?!?!?

Eddie’s name doesn’t even get to be cleared now. That’s the worst part. A coma is better than death I guess. Shoot. One’s not gonna be in Max’s body is he... I don’t need Will’s spidey sense back. Well that’s quite a cliffhanger.

That was definitely devastating. I’m sure the fandom is in shambles over Eddie. Steve survived at least! Poor Dustin needs a cast on his ankle or at least crutches, why are they just letting him limp around?

They’re definitely setting up an intense season 5. God I hope Max ends up okay but best case scenario is that she wakes up and has all her bones healed but she’s blind. Worst case is that she just dies again. I’m upset. I’m really upset.

I still have one complaint: WE NEEDED MORE WILL. God they just keep underutilizing my son. That scene in the car with Mike was amazing. Give him more. Give me more Will.

Also I didn’t cry. It’s weird, ever since the pandemic I’ve been able to cry at nearly the drop of a hat, which is unheard of for me since in my teens and early 20s I’d cry maybe twice a year. But 2020-early 2022 I cried ALL. THE. TIME. Over anything. I cried once just talking about Encanto. I cried once thinking about how sad the Rockerfeller Christmas tree looked. Even the dumbest cheesiest movie would make me cry. And yet I didn’t cry watching this. I blame my antidepressants that I started taking a month or so ago, maybe that means they’re working.

But I’m also yawning a lot, which is something I used to do pre-2020-crying-levels, I’d find that instead of crying I’d just get sleepy and start yawning a lot. And back then during the rare times when I would cry I’d just knock out asleep afterwards because I’d be so drained. So I’m gonna assume the fact that I’ve yawned a billion times writing this that it’s the sadness tiredness again. Yay.

Now that Stranger Things 4 is done, I don’t know what to do with my life. What else do I look forward to now?

#hope watches stranger things #st spoilers #stranger things spoilers

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nxiousxpsistence · 2 years

Text

IM HIGH SO CAUTION

SUMMER HITS 2014

SEN OLMANA BIAT ETMEKLE BERABER

CHALLENGE NOT ACCEPTED

CHALLENGE DENIED

CHALLENGE ABORTED

AS MY TIMELINE HAS FEELINGS NOT DISCLOSED

TO ANYONE

-- LEGENDS I'D CRAFTED WELL BEFORE I DIED --

AND I CAN’T BETRAY MY WILL

OVER WHICHEVER LOve

CANT

(LOWE LOV GOV BAL SUCKY FUCKY FRIENDLY POSSESSIVE FAMILY LIKE FILFS FILFS EVERYWHERE)

CANT YIELD TO ANY OTHER THAN MY

OWN

MASSIVE COCK

IM PRETTY WELL HUNG

SO YEAH ITS DISTRACTING

YOU DONT KNOW HOW I PLAY

IM A CREATURE OF HABIT

AND YOURE PLAYING ALL THE WRONG GAMES

THE LUST ID PURRED INTO YOU

THE FIRE BURSTING AT THE SEAMS

THIS

THE

BATTLE

DICKS

AND IT SHALL NOT BE WON ON YOUR TERMS

AND THE PUSSY YOU THINK IM MOURNING HAS LEFT ME AGES AGO AND I ENJOYED THE YEARNING better than feeding the hollow

-- pursuit was more fun than satisfaction, the opposite of the mating dance, the glorious death of a love that could've been --

With anything other than my trusted dildo

ALL THE WHILE APOLOGIZING FOR THE LIFE I'D ENDED BEFORE THEIR FIRST BURST OF LIGHT

MAKING PEACE WITH IT

LOVING MYSELF AT MY 40s

SO YEAH

MY TERMS

BUT YOURE BEAUTIFUL

AND I CANT BELIEVE FOR ONE MOMENT

THAT YOU DONT KNOW

THE VULNERABILITIES WE BARE

ARE OUR TRADEMARK SMILES THAT WORK

THAT. JUST. WORKS.

So you don’t believe me at times

Not really

I question your knowledge for pop culture

The word kitch never entering your mind

As I do

You call me out

And I shy away

There is exactly where my first ever boundary lies

You’re but mistaking the showing of weakness with the brazen showing of the Burning Love pussy

You’re mistaking my peace with my perfect imperfections with peace with the world

And that’s ok many do

And the reason I’ve wanted to write this

I need to be away for a while.

Otherwise my self worth will start depending on wonderfully interesting queer people's ability / desire to approve of me.

Otherwise their options will always remain at +1, which is exactly the challenge I shall not rise to, nor shall I deny.

-- I enjoy being liked up to the end of credible deniability --

Yet now, I don’t enjoy my soul being fondled with.

Because it comes easy to me: I can find myself delving into the depths of yet another human being to go through -- travelling at the speed of light for which I'd chosen to die over and over again just so I don't lose the momentum --

Yet another beautiful soul I shall crush just to stay younger

You call on me and I won’t respond.

I’m. Not. The. 8. Year. Old. Anymore.

And you my beautiful trans boy

is whom I’m afraid to see

As I may just leave everything behind

As IS MY CUSTOM

AT THIS TIME OF THE CYCLE

and it’s not fair on anyone.

-- I need to know what I (am) like --

This me you’ve enjoyed

Needs to have her SOL EL AVUTING her SAĞ EL first

And learn to accept himself fully

So fully that he won't utter the name of the high-heeled slave to whatever had tickled her fancy;

The one I’ll eternally mourn

The real baby I ended.

I ended.

And not let others do the same.

Maybe one day.

*Bitchslapping Max Colombie (figuratively) would heal a lot if things.

But I may just smash instead???*

I enjoy my possibilities more than I enjoy others’.

This is my departure from the wills of the others.

My half truths much halver (halfer?) than anyone else’s.

My world needs no introduction,

invites no intrusion.

And the good thing is

I know how that feels.

IM GONNA CLOSE MY BODY.

NOW.

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starsscribble · 3 years

Text

Stick Shift

Summary: Rick thinks he freeing Y/n. Y/n thinks she's the problem.

Tags: Angst, No comfort, Age Difference, Reader is 25 Rick is in in 40.

A/n: This was when I was on my Walking Dead kick. Finally got it edited.

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

You pulled into the post-apocalyptic suburbs; in a separate car than what Glenn and you left in. Your earlier pride of find and driving said care was gone. Now in it place was a numb type of sadness. It was stupid. You know that. Getting worked up over the fact you were driving a stick shift. All on your own. But Rick. Your boyfriend; ex-boyfriend now. He had been the one to teach you how to drive a stick shift. Before Virginia. When the group was still in the prison. When you were both still happy.

“Come on,” his southern drawl was clear as day. You let out a puff of air. Head pushing against the headrest. “This was your idea. You gotta confess something.” You started to hate that you suggested this game, but the drive was so damn long. You didn’t have the radio to help distract you. No, it was just you, Rick, and a long stretch of Georgia backroad. The former sheriff’s right hand shifted off the steering wheel. Moving carefully as not to catch your attention. You were still racking your brain for a secret to tell. Then a yelp left your mouth. You jumped in your seat making the older man laugh. Hand retreated to the wheel.

“That’s what you get for taking so long pumpkin.” He grinned; eyes shifted from the road onto you. A hint of playfulness in those ocean blue eyes.

“I was thinking of something!” You shot back making him chuckle before looking back to the road.

“There’s gotta be something you have never told anyone.”

“Well,” you hummed. Readjusting in your seat. “I don’t know if this would count because I’ve never told this to anyone in the group.”

“I’ll count it.” He glances at you quickly, still smiling. Which makes you smile.

“Alright. I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.” You feel the jerk was the car spot. Rick looked at you as if you just told him the undead are all gone. Eye full of disbelief.

“You’re joking.” He speaks after a beat and you shake your head. Nope, you couldn’t drive a stick to save your life. And with how the world was it just might. Rick took off his seatbelt as you questioned just what he was doing. “I’m gonna teach you how to drive stick. You might need it.”

“We are on a run.”

“Yep and this is the perfect time. Now get into the driver’s seat.”

Slowly you parked next to Glenn. Killing the engine you got out as Glenn moved over to your vehicle. He smiled at you. Today was a good day. Got more food, medicine, and another car. The possibilities for cars were endless. Used for parts. Set up at protection. Used as traps. Daryl Dixon the town resident mechanic would have a field day with this car.

“I’m gonna check in with Rick,” Glenn says. You see him playing with his wedding band. Maggie’s baby bump had started to show and Glenn didn’t like being away for too long. Patting his shoulder you speak.

“Go see Maggie and your baby.” You slammed the driver’s side door shut. The dark-haired man stares at you. Willing to argue with you on this.

“Really it’s-” You raised your hand stopping him.

“If you don’t go check up on Maggie. I will and I’ll tell her how you screamed like a girl.” His eyes widen at the threat.

“I didn’t know a group of bats would be in there!” He defended himself only making you grin at him. You both head away from the parking area. Back towards the stretch of cookie-cutter homes. You nudge his shoulder with yours.

“First it’s a colony of bats. Second, not only was the scream funny, so was your face.” You teased him. Glenn shoved your shoulder playfully. Before mumbling that he was going to check in with his wife. Leaving you with the task of checking in with the community’s newly appointed leader Rick.

Jogging onto his porch you knocked on the door. Eyes looking everywhere but the door until it opened. Sadly it wasn’t the male you were looking for. Carl greeted you with a soft smile. The bandages that once covered his right eye socket had been replaced with a custom-made eyepatch.

“Ahoy captain.” You tease the teenager who rolled his remaining eye. “Your dad here? Just checking in since Glenn and I got back.”

“Nope. Haven’t seen him since this morning.” Carl tells you, making you nodded. “When I see him…” He trails off because he knows you will just hunt his dad down. “I don’t know where he is.” He's lying. You know it. He knows that you know. But you just nod and quickly thank him. Tell him to kiss his sister for you before turning off the porch.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

You know where Rick Grimes is. Feet carrying you down the still blood-stained street. Streets that just weeks ago were covered with the undead. You wave kindly to the people passing by. It is a mix of your group, older residents, and new people. You still feel out of place. Maybe you always will. Maybe you won't. You wonder quietly to yourself. A nice distraction. Because if you thought about where you were going. Where you had to go. You might just break. So you let your mind wander. Let your feet carry you to the destination. Everything seemed to be on autopilot. Until your using the knocker of the baby blue house. Her house.

“We should end this,” Rick says matter-of-factly. You stopped brushing your hair to look at him. He’s not facing you. Back facing you as he pulled his jeans on.

“What?” Maybe you misheard him. Maybe it was your ear playing a trick on you. Because Rick couldn’t be breaking up with you right now.

“We should break up.” He rephrases. The words take the air from your lungs. Your mouth opened to say words that your mind can’t even come up with. The silence in the room grew by the seconds. It finally became too much for the man as he turned to face you. Jeans zipped up but not buttoned. Belt lay next to his shirt on the bed but his eyes fell on you instead.

“Say something.” He requested of you softly. That same soft voice that he used when he said he loved you. Tears that formed in your eyes finally fell as you blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Before you looked him in the eyes.

“Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” Getting shot was nothing compared to your question to him. Because he knew you honestly thought you did something wrong. You always doubted yourself. But you were perfect. So goddamn perfect. And amazing. And young.

“No sweetheart. It’s just…” He stops himself from going over to embrace you. Tell you to forget about it. Because this has to happen. You're 24. His 39. Even if the group. His and your family were ok with it. He heard the whispers around town. The other weren’t as supportive.

“I think we should end this. We had an amazing run. And you're young. You’re gonna find someone else that will love you more than I ever could.” He breaks his own heart with his words. Because he doesn’t want you to find someone else. He wants to be with you until the end. When and where ever the end was. But you deserve better. You deserve someone around your age. Not an old man with two children like him.

“I…” you stare at him. Cheeks strained with tears he caused. “I don’t want someone else.” You grab the comforter. It gets balled up as you tighten your grip on the fabric. Your mind running over everything you had done in the last weeks to get to the point. You had snapped at him a few days back because of Jessie Anderson. The blonde woman in her thirties that lived up the street. You didn’t hear what they were talking but her body language told you everything. She was flirting with Rick. And either he didn’t notice or didn’t care. Doubt played in your mind the whole day after seeing the interaction. Because Jessie was around Rick’s age. And you weren’t. You didn’t really have any life experience before the world ended. So it made sense if Rick preferred a woman his own age. As opposed to you, a 24-year-old kid in his eyes.

“I can get you a brownstone to stay in.” He said. Brushing off your comment. Which broke your heart even more.

The door opened showing the blonde that lived there. A smile and questioning look on her face.

“Is Rick here?” You asked, watching as she turned her head and yelling the man’s name into the home. He comes out from the kitchen; questioning who it was. The question dying in his throat when he saw it was you. Jessie excused herself leaving you and Rick alone. The former sheriff stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” he gives you a tight-lipped smile. Which you return.

“Just came to tell you Glenn and I are back.”

“Right,” he nods. “You guys went on a run. Get anything good?” You nodded before listing off some of the supplies you got. Including the stick shift car. You heard him chuckle. Looking into his eyes you saw that same playfulness as the day he first forced you to drive a stick.

“You didn’t flood the engine this time right?” He teased and you scoffed, punching him in the shoulder.

“I was amazing.” You boasted. The older man stared at you and you swear you heard a quiet. ‘Ya, you are.’

“You don’t mind if I asked Glenn?” You roll your eyes but smile.

“Go ahead. He's gonna tell you the same thing.” He nodded. Hand going on his hips. You watch as he licks his lips. Your breath hitching as you feel your stomach twisting in knots. “I should go. Need a shower desperately.” You don’t wait for him to say goodbye or stop you. You're off the porch and down the road heading home in a few steps.

And all my friends are tired

Of hearing how much I miss you, but

I kinda feel sorry for them

'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do

Maggie can’t drink. But that doesn’t mean you and Sasha can’t. Sasha, Abraham, and Rosita had come back later in the day from another run. They had been the unlucky ones not finding much of anything. But Sasha apparently found some top-tier booze in a rundown bar. The trio split it up between them. So here you were. Snacking on fresh strawberries drinking booze that would have been at least $100 for a bottle; straight out of the bottle. The three of you resting against the metal wall that protected the town from the nasty world outside.

“So,” Maggie started as she threw a strawberry stem into a bowl filled with them. “Heard someone talk with Rick.” Sasha and her eyes went to you as you grabbed the glass bottle of auburn liquid. Taking a healthy swig you felt the burn as it went down. You were far too sober to be talking about this. Talking about him. Because no one in the group knew why you guys ended it. Just one day you were a happy couple and the next you were packing up and moving into your own brownstone. Sasha took the bottle from you, making you whine. As you tried to reach for it but the former firefighter held it out of reach. Her hand on your chest also keeping you away from it.

“You can get some when you tell us what happened.” She landed down the rule and it makes you groan as you move to lay against the wall. You don't want to talk about it. You just want to wallow and let the scar form on your heart in peace.

A crack of thunder sends the trio onto the back porch of Maggie’s home. Lucky for you guys because moments after; the dark clouds opened up letting down heavy droplets that ping off the porch’s roof. Sasha is distracted by the rain. Asking Maggie if the crops will be ok. Allowing you to snatch the bottle from her hand and take another big glug. The bottle is half gone now. And honestly so are you. The alcohol works fast as your brain starts to go fuzzy. Sasha takes the bottle back slightly annoyed. But it clear the break-up has been hard. So she lets it go.

“You got your drink.” She says putting the cap back on and sitting it to the side out of your reach. “Now tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know.” You sob. You weren’t normally an emotional drunk. But with everything going on with Rick. Tonight you were.

And I know we weren't perfect

But I've never felt this way for no one, oh

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay, now that I'm gone

Maggie held you as you drunkenly cried. Sasha joined you on the other side, rubbing your back. You finally opened up about your breakup with Rick a month ago. You weren’t sure how much they understood because of the loud rain and your blubbering. But either way, they consoled you. Trying to help the only way they could. And the only way they knew how. Simply being there. Because for a month you kept this end. Kept this to yourself. So those outside of the group saw you were fine. The break-up didn’t seem to affect you. You carried on with work. Talked with Rick when it was needed. You acted fine.

But the group knew it. Of course, they knew. It was an act. Because they saw how you were breaking. How you had a longing in your eyes when the cowboy boots-wearing man walked by. The smile that rarely reached your lips. You were faking so much of your joy because your heart was broken.

“I just don’t get how he is so ok. Did I mean nothing?” The two women share a look at your question. Because they also know that Rick isn’t ok. Like you, he is acting. Because he is the leader and can’t break down. But the man isn’t ok. They don’t say that. Rick was the one that ended it. That was on him.

“I don’t know,” Maggie says softly as you rest your head onto her shoulder. “I wish I had the answer for you. But only Rick does.”

Red lights, stop signs

I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Can't drive past the places we used to go to

'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

The street lights are now on. It’s still raining when you tell Maggie you were going home. Sasha and her try to get you to stay the night. Or at least until the rain lets up. But the rain isn't letting up. It was so heavy you could barely see a few steps in front of you. But you step off the back porch and disappear down the alleyway of the lined-up homes. You walk. Just walk because you don’t want to go home just yet. If you go home you’ll be lonely. And you don’t want that. Because for a month you have been lonely in that damn brownstone. Rick wasn’t lonely. He was with Jessie. His arms wrapped around her body. Damn your brain. Just because you didn’t want to be lonely didn’t mean you wanted to think about them together.

The rain started to ease up as you found yourself passing Rick’s house. The lights upstairs were on. As you quickly looked away from the cookie-cutter home. A shiver ran through you and shoved your hands into your soaked jean pockets. Maybe now was a good time to head home. You haven’t even turned when you heard your name being shouted over the rain. Looking back at Rick’s home you see him rushing off the porch and over to you. His dark brown jacket acting as an umbrella. He puts it mostly over you shielding you from the rain.

“What are you doing out here? You're going to get sick.” He frets because he knows how likely that is. Because after the rainstorm when the group was on the trek through Virginia you had gotten sick. “Come on.” He orders and you walk with him toward his house.

Sidewalks we crossed

I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing

Over all the noise

You smile at him lightly as he places a cup of peppermint tea in your hand; you're favorite. You're in one of his white t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair, no longer wet from the rain but a hot shower. The alcohol is still in your system. How much you don’t know.

“What were you doing walking in the rain?” He questioned taking the seat next to you. His own cup of tea in his hand.

“Was drinking with Sasha and Maggie.” You look towards him as his eyebrows knit together as the mention of Maggie and drinking. “Maggie was moderating us. She wasn’t drinking, come on. She knows better.” Rick nods bowing his head because he does know better to think that about Maggie. But his time as a cop taught him that some people just don’t care. Not about themselves. Not about others. And sure as hell not about kids.

“Where did you get the booze from? Daryl?” You snort at him before blowing on your tea taking a careful sip. Sitting the cup down you look back towards him.

“I ain’t no rat officer.” He chuckles. You both do. A little inside joke between you both. And then the silence fell. The awkward uncertain silence of two people who didn’t know what to say next. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you stare into the tea. Rain still going strong outside, trapping on the roof of your former home. Rick shifts beside you clearing his throat.

“Judy trying to walk.” It makes you smile a bit.

“That’s good. Soon she’ll be running over you and Carl.” The older man chuckles nodding in agreement but you don’t see it. Head still bowed. Turning your mug as you watch the tea shift with each motion.

“Seeing anyone?” He was trying to keep the conversation going. But there had to be another question to ask that wasn’t this. You still answer it by shaking your head.

“No. But you seemed to have moved on.” It has some bite to you. You're bitter. Of course, you are. The man you were in love with. Seemed to easily move on after he ended it. You lift the ceramic mug and take a huge glug of your tea. The warmth fills you but it’s not enough.

“Ya. Jessie, she’s…” He doesn’t know what to say. Jessie is ok. Good to have around. Doesn’t make him feel as empty. But she is just not you. All her touches. All her kisses. They feel off and he knows why. Because the hands touching him aren’t yours. Neither are the lips that kiss him. But Rick is stubborn. Even if it hurts you both, he knows you need better. You deserve the world and he just can’t give it to you.

“She’s perfect.” You looked at him. Sadness, rooted so deeply in your eyes. He wants to pull you into him. Tell you that he is sorry. That he will end it with Jessie. Come back to you. And try to make all of this right. But he already drew his line in the sand and he won’t cross it. Because the moment he touches you he knows it will be his undoing.

“She has her flaws. No one is perfect.” Except for you. He wants to add. He hears a quiet 'ya' then it silence once again.

God, I'm so blue, know we're through

But I still fuckin' love you, babe

You were gone when Rick woke up. His clothes lay on the guest bed since you were dried. He wondered just when you left. He wondered if you slept at all. Because he didn’t. Knowing you were in the house but not in his arms. He was restless the whole night. He sighs. Picking clothes up. It was sad that he hoped this wouldn’t be the last time. But it most likely was going to be the only time. Because how often are you going to walk in the rain drunk? He takes the clothes to the laundry room. Before he throws the shirt in the basket he lifts it to his nose. Inhaling the flowery body wash scent from when you shower last night. You must found where he hid the body wash you left behind.

“Hey, dad!” Carl called out from the kitchen forcing Rick to dump the clothes in the basket. Entering the kitchen he smiled at his son. Judith was already in her high chair waiting for breakfast. Carl stood at the counter. The box of peppermint tea in his hands. Shit. He meant to put that up. Carl’s eye shifts from the box towards the sink. Where the mugs from last night sat unwashed. Then the young man turns to his father.

“Y/n was here wasn’t she?” He questioned but it was really a statement. It is the only reason for this tea to be out with two mugs in the sink.

“Ya,” He replied, moving towards his son and taking the box of tea from his hand. The young man sighed watching his father place the tea on a high shelf so only he could get to it.

“Why?” Carl asked.

“It was raining-”

“No,” he cut his father off. “Why did you break up with her?”

“Carl,” Rick sighed. As he pinched the bridge of his nose. If he didn’t want to have this conversation with Daryl or Michonne. He sure as hell didn’t want it with his son. But like Rick the young survivor was stubborn. He stepped into his father's past every time he tried to move around him.

“Carl,” Rick warns but the boy isn’t back down.

“No. You were happy with Y/n. Happier than I have ever seen you. Even with mom. Even before all of this.” The boy gestures at nothing but Rick knows what he means by that. Because he didn’t want to admit it. But his and Lori’s relationship was at rock bottom before the world ended.

“So why? What happened?” Carl pressed, making Rick sigh. He wondered. Only for a second. If Michonne had put Carl up to his. But he shook that from his head. Michonne won’t do that. This is purely Carl. Because Carl loves you so much. The both of you had apparently clicked before Rick had gotten to the quarry. And that bond only grew over time.

“It’s complicated, Carl. Now please,” Rick needed him to down the subject. And the young boy seemed to understand but is still pissed. He turns from his father. Feet carrying the young boy towards the door. “Where are you going?” He called out.

“Out!” And the slamming door let Rick know that Carl was gone. He sighed.

He knew everyone would move on. You would. Carl would. He would. In the far future, all of this will be just a bad memory. But right now. In the present, it hurt so fucking bad. Tears leaked from his eyes as he sucked in air. He did it to himself. He deserved this pain. And if he could he would take your pain. Allow you to be happy. To find love in someone else better than him. Because you're one of the good things in this ugly world.

I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

#walking dead #walking dead imagine #walking dead x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes angst

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h0tchner · 3 years

Text

Any Age, Any Day, Anywhere (Part 1) - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: WRITTEN FOR AN ANON REQUEST: "ok hi so u already wrote a jealous reader and was wondering whats your take on jealous hotch? i mostly see him in fics as possessive and yeah being the leader type i would think he could also be possessive but i also think that he would just be sad like ya know he doubts himself as we saw in some episodes and i think he would need assurance and a lot of convincing that u only love him but if you’ve given that to him then thats the time he would be possessive and god i would love to imagine a possessive and feral aaron hotchner"

word count: 3.5k

includes: kissing, so much freaking adorable fluff, talk of body insecurities, insecure!hotch, protective!hotch, wifey reader, super brief mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, confrontation with a drunk asshole (derek & hotch are all over it tho dw), party at papa rossi's!, smut to come in next chapter...

rating: 18+ (technically there is no smut in this part, but there are adult themes such as drinking, kissing, etc.).

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! This is part one of a two-part fic! The next part will be pure filth, so keep your eyes peeled for some feral hotch content... ALSO! PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Aaron! Can you come here for a sec?” you call out to your husband from the bathroom, muttering curses under your breath as you try (and fail) for the third time to zip up the back of your black cocktail dress.

“Sure, I just need a minute,” he replies from the bedroom closet, securing the last opalescent button on the arm of his white dress shirt. He looks at himself in the closet mirror, zeroing in at the bags under his eyes and the sprinkling of grey in his stubble. He looks… tired. Tired and old. And he hates it.

Even though Aaron is only in his late-40s, he has lived lifetimes; years of working as Unit Chief of the BAU will do that to a man. Every horror he’s seen and every person he’s lost has weighed on his body and mind. In the past few months, amidst work changes and a new baby, he’s been exhausted and in fear that he’s letting himself go. Of course, being the stoic man that he is, he’s done his absolute best to hide these feelings from you. Tonight, however, he doesn’t know if he can. It’ll be your first night out together as a couple since welcoming baby girl Hotchner to the family four months ago. With no pressing family or work distractions, he just knows that you’ll be able to sense his apprehensions. It’s only a matter of when.

Taking in a breath, he turns a little to the side, frowning at his profile. Aaron winces a little at his “dad bod,” but quickly recovers from the discomfort, milliseconds after it flashes across his face.

“Aaron Hotchner get your handsome butt in here and help me zip my dress! We’re gonna be late,” you exclaim, trying one last time to reach the zipper before giving up and crossing your arms in defeat. You lean back lightly against the countertop facing the door, letting the fabric slip off your shoulders, and wait for your husband to rescue you from the hell that is this dress.

At the sound of your voice, Aaron snaps out of his trance. He shakes his head lightly, as if to physically erase the intrusive thoughts, and clears his throat. Grabbing his suit jacket off the hanger, he flicks off the closet light and closes the door behind him.

Languidly, he meanders from the closet toward the bathroom. He drags his feet a little longer than he normally would, still feeling off and a little bit shy about his appearance.

“Aaron,” you sing, “I’m waiting for –,” your jaw drops mid-sentence when Aaron appears in the doorway.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out before you can stop yourself, eyes widening at the sight of the gorgeous man in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, crossing over to you, searching your face for any ounce of reprieve.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you’re quick to reply, standing from your leaning position to meet him, holding out your hands.

He takes them in his own, cocking his head slightly, his soft hazel eyes boring into yours.

You shift forward, moving up on your toes to peck his soft pink lips.

He sighs into the kiss, feeling the warmth of your lips against his own. It feels so good that it almost makes him forget about how he is feeling… almost. But the dark thoughts come back, and he pulls away from you a bit, reluctantly.

Aaron clears his throat.

“You called me?” He questions, but it sounds more like a fact.

“Yeah,” you give his hands a squeeze. “I needed you to zip up my dress, but now,” you lean in again, “I kinda want you to rip it off me.” You offer him a sultry smirk, moving your hands up to rest on his broad chest. He moves his hands to settle on your hips.

You lick your lips and let your eyes rake over his body, taking in every ounce of his sexy frame. The way his crisp, white dress shirt hugs his solid body makes you go weak in the knees. His strong, toned legs in those black dress pants? Yes please. His soft black hair and salt and pepper stubble on his face are practically begging to be touched. He looks good. Damn good.

“You look…” you pause, tapping a finger lightly against his pectoral, searching for the right word, “…delicious.”

Aaron blushes lightly at your ogling, offering you a sad smile as he squeezes his eyes shut out of embarrassment.

You sense the falter in his demeanor, knowing that there’s something else nagging at him far beyond his usual flustering when you vocalize your attraction to him.

“Honey,” you implore, looping your hands around his neck to bring his forehead down to touch yours. “What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, swallowing, rubbing soft circles into your sides.

“It’s something,” you counter, carding a hand through his hair at the nape of his neck. You scratch lightly at his scalp, waiting for him to speak. You’ve learned that the best thing to do when Aaron gets in a mood is to give him some time to gather his thoughts. Keeping him close, physically, is a way to show him some comfort without pressuring him to speak. It encourages him, without words, that your arms are a safe place.

“I don’t…” he starts, and then stops himself. His dark eyebrows furrow and his mouth presses into a thin line.

“Mhm?” you question, fingers still tangled in his thick, black locks.

He pulls his forehead away from yours and locks eyes with you. You let your hands be still now, a silent gesture to show him that you’re listening.

He takes in a breath.

“I don’t look the way I used to,” he says quietly, shifting his eyes away from yours.

“What do you mean,” you urge him to continue.

“I mean, I don’t look like I did five years ago. Two years ago. Four months ago. I mean, I was practically a different man when we first met. I was younger, fitter…” he trails off, visibly upset.

“Yes, Aaron, you were,” you agree, keeping your tone temperate.

His eyes snap to yours, confused. It’s clear that was not what he was expecting you to say.

“You were a different man,” you continue gently, resuming your pacifying touch in his hair, “and I was a different woman.”

Aaron lets out a huff.

“Do you love me any less now than you did five years ago?” You ask him.

“Of course not,” he’s quick to answer.

“Why is that?” You prod.

“You’re gorgeous, inside and out. You’re funny, smart, loving…” he begins, but you interrupt him before he can go on.

“And,” you butt in, “if I were to go completely grey, gain thirty pounds, and only wear a potato sack to work every day would you love me any less?”

Aaron huffs again, but this time he’s fighting a smile. He’s starting to catch on. You watch as a spark of levity returns to his eyes. He holds you a little tighter.

“No. There’s nothing you could do or say to make me love you any less,” he grumbles in annoyance, but his upturned lip and matching eyebrow tell a different story.

“Ditto, baby,” you smile up at him. “I love you at any age, any day, anywhere, and there is nothing in the world that can make me change my mind.”

He dips down then, capturing you in a kiss, grinning against your lips.

You giggle as Aaron works his way down your jawline and neck, gasping as he kisses the soft skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, thick fingers gripping the sides of your hips. He moves his lips back up to your earlobe, nipping at it lightly as you let out another soft gasp.

“You always know the right thing to say,” he whispers into your ear, pressing another kiss right underneath it.

“Aaron, I know I said I wanted you to take this dress off me,” you say breathlessly as Aaron nips at your shoulder again, “but Rossi will kill us if we don’t show up tonight. Plus, I really want the chance to show off my super sexy FBI husband. It’s been far too long.”

He lets out a low groan into your skin and gives your hips a squeeze, nuzzling his head into your neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “you’re right.”

“Aren’t I always,” you snort, eliciting a chuckle from your husband as you turn around in his arms to let him zip you up.

He takes his time, letting his fingers brush lightly over your spine as he draws the zipper over your back. When he’s done and the clasp is latched, he kisses one shoulder lightly, and then the other.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning back against his warm body.

“No, honey,” he kisses the top of your head, “thank you.”

_____________________________________________________________

By the time you and Aaron arrive at Rossi’s mansion, the party is already in full swing. Judging by the number of cars in the makeshift parking lot on his spacious front lawn, there must be at least fifty, maybe even a hundred people here.

Despite the bustle of the evening, it doesn’t take long for you two to find Emily, Penelope, and Derek in the living room, drinks in hand, snacking on some very expensive looking food.

“Hey, look! It’s the Hotchners!” Emily cheers, teetering on the arm of the leather couch, wine glass in hand.

“Hello beautiful BAU power-couple!” Penelope chimes in from the seat next to her, cuddled up into Derek’s side.

You laugh and let go of Aaron’s hand, walking over to greet your friends.

“Hey hot stuff, look at you, look at you!” Derek chimes in, eyeing you up and down before standing to shake Aaron’s hand.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes at him as you give Emily a big hug.

“And you don’t look bad yourself, boss man!” Derek adds.

You shoot your husband an ‘I told you so’ look over your shoulder, before untangling your arms from Emily and giving Penelope an equally enthusiastic squeeze.

“It’s good to see you all,” Aaron smiles lightly, all dimples in the low light. He steps in to give Emily and Penelope soft hugs.

“Let’s go get you a drink,” Derek says to Aaron, clapping him on the back.

“White?” Aaron looks to you, even though he already knows the answer.

“Yes please,” you respond, “thank you.”

“Be back soon,” he smiles easily, kissing your cheek, making your heart ache.

Aaron and Derek turn and exit the room together.

Penelope drunkenly pats the seat next to her, and you plop down on the couch.

“We’ve missed you like this!” Emily exclaims, gesturing between the three of you and around the room. “I can’t believe we’ve had to wait nine whole months plusanother four just to have a drink with our best friend again.”

You laugh at her, tilting your head back lightly. “Well, you guys got a beautiful little niece out of it, doesn’t that make up for all the wild girl’s nights I missed?”

Emily sighs, dramatically, “I guess so,” she jests.

“Oh, for sure.” Penelope adds. “You look freaking gorgeous, by the way. I mean, I would have never guessed you were creating a tiny human in that body only a few months ago!”

You blush lightly at her words, “You flatter me far too much, Pen. I owe this,” you gesture down at your figure, “all to Spanx!”

“Amen!” Emily toasts. You raise an imaginary glass to theirs and pretend to clink, taking a swig of invisible liquid.

“Are J.J. and Will here?” You ask them after they’ve had a few more sips of their wine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily nods, “they’re around somewhere.”

You take a moment and look around the room, taking in all the sights and the sounds of the party. You see some faces you recognize from around the bureau, but others you don’t. Just as you’re about to turn back to your friends, someone catches your eye. One face stands out from the crowd: he’s a young, suave-looking man in a sharp navy suit. Sandy hair perfectly gelled, shiny brown loafers, and bright blue eyes looking right at you. In another life you would have been exhilarated by his attention, apparent charm, and good looks, but now? Now, you’re married to the love of your life with an amazing stepson and a wonderful baby girl. His wolfish gaze means absolutely nothing to you. You simply flash him a curt smile and turn back to Emily and Penelope without a second thought.

You and your friends resume your chatter, waiting for the men to return with more drinks... only they don’t. Perhaps its “new mother anxiety” talking, but the longer your husband is gone, the more you start to grow concerned. A few more minutes pass of antics, laughter, and catching up until the nagging voice in the back of your head turns into an all-out scream. All you know is that you’re suddenly feeling very overwhelmed need to be with Aaron. So, you announce to your friends that you’re going to hunt down Derek and your husband.

You stand from the couch and smooth out the skirt of your dress with the promise to be back in a few minutes.

You walk out of the living room and into the grand foyer, following the same route as Aaron had earlier. Your black kitten heels click on the marble flooring, the skirt of your dress swishing lightly as you walk with purpose towards the kitchen. You’re so concentrated on reaching your destination that you don’t realize the man who had been watching you in the living room was now hot at your heels, following you through the house. It’s only when a hand reaches out and jerks your arm backward that you stop, startled, just past the grand staircase, turning face to face with him.

“You’re not an easy woman to get alone,” he smirks, reeking of alcohol, still gripping your arm, tight. Up close he is decidedly not as handsome as the low light of the living room made him seem. In fact, he seems… creepy. Really, really, really, creepy.

“Can I help you?” You blink at him, pulling your arm out of his vice grip.

“You sure can, baby,” he steps closer to you, voice oozing with sleaze. You gag at the liquor on his breath.

Moving away, you scowl at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

“What’s say you and I head upstairs for a little while? I’m dying to get my hands on your body.” He jerks his head toward the staircase, reaching out to grab your arm again.

You’re fuming at this point, ready give him a piece of your mind when a stern voice beats you to it.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” Aaron articulates, approaching you both with Derek not far behind.

You breathe a sigh of relief as your husband glares at the drunken man vengefully, coming to stand by your side. Aaron pulls you into him, roughly, hand tight around your waist. The anger radiating off your husband is equally terrifying and HOT.

“Take a walk, man,” Derek adds in, coming to stand next to the drunken asshole. The man looks from you, to Aaron, then over to Derek, and finally back at you.

“Whatever,” the man grumbles, putting his hands up, “she’s not worth it anyway. Not pretty enough for the hassle. I just thought she looked like an easy lay.”

“That’s enough,” Aaron snaps, seething. “Leave now, before I make you,” your husband growls. He angles his body forward so you’re slightly behind him. A shiver passes through you at his fierce protectiveness.

“Fine, I’m going to get another drink,” the man utters.

“No,” Aaron interjects, “the party. Leave the party or I’ll have you removed.”

“What’s your problem?” The creepy man retorts, this time, more confrontationally.

“My problem?” Aaron says, angrily. You feel his entire body tense at the accusation.

“Hotch,” Derek warns, “I’ll take care of it. You guys go enjoy yourselves. Forget about him.”

“Come on, Aaron,” you tug on his suit jacket lightly, eyes pleading… but Aaron doesn’t budge from his spot. He only holds you tighter as he continues to stare down the man as Derek ushers him away and towards the front door. He doesn’t falter until they are out of sight.

“Aaron?” You repeat.

He looks down at you, finally, blinking away the fury until all that’s left is an all-consuming love. He releases you from his protective hold, and you face him.

“I’m okay,” you assure him in earnest, letting out a shaky breath.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” he breathes, bringing his hands up to cup your face.

“Aaron, it’s okay, really,” you bite your lip, shifting your eyes away from his.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron kisses your forehead, and then the top of your head. “So, so beautiful, and I’m so sorry.”

“Aaron, can we just go home?” You ask.

“Sure,” he kisses your head one last time before weaving his fingers between yours and guiding you gently toward the back exit.

_____________________________________________________________

The car ride home is quiet. The only sounds are the occasional click of the turn signal, and the hum of the wheels on the road. Aaron is still upset, and so are you, but you’re also… something else. Something you can’t quite put your finger on. You feel guilty for ruining the evening, guilty that you FEEL guilty for something you had no control over, hungry, tired, and… horny? Oh, and guilty for feeling horny.

It isn’t helping that one of Aaron’s hands is planted firmly on your thigh. He lifts it only to adjust the air conditioning or to scratch his nose, but otherwise it remains on you the whole way home. When he pulls into the driveway of your shared house, and shuts the car off, he still doesn’t move it.

“Honey?” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are closed. You take in the strong features of his profile, noting the prominence of his nose and the way his eyelashes rest on his high cheekbones.

“I almost punched him.” Aaron whispers, opening his eyes to look over at you sheepishly.

“You what,” you exhale, mouth slightly agape.

“That guy,” he continues, bringing his left hand up to pinch his nose. “I almost punched him for saying that about you.”

You snort, amused by his confession.

Your husband lets out a short laugh, squeezing your thigh as he does.

“I would’ve liked to see that.” You’re grinning now and so is he.

He flashes his eyes at you and laughs again, this time less anxiously. You join him, feeling the tension dissipate with every passing moment.

“My big, bad FBI man decking a barely-legal drunk dickhead for making a move on his wife? Where can I get my tickets?” You joke.

As you say the words “his wife,” Aaron’s breath hitches in his throat. His hand on your thigh presses down instinctively. Neither of his reactions go unnoticed.

You lay a hand over his where it rests on your leg.

“You know, Aaron,” you begin.

He looks over at you, jaw tight, but this time it isn’t from anger.

“This is the first time we’ve had the house all to ourselves in months,” you pull his hand off you and bring it up to your lips. You press a kiss to his palm, and then to his wrist.

“This… is true,” he breathes out, studying you, taking you in.

“So, I’m just wondering:” you grin, linking your fingers with his, “are you going to carry your wife into our house, Aaron? Or do I have to walk myself?”

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