#but every other game has been the same after that.

[suplicyy]

heyy hope you’re gonna take this request, can you write something about canon kuroo confessing?

No time skip please. Like with a female reader which doesn’t act in love with him like the rest of the girls, she’s not pick me or stuff like this.

So Kuroo can do nothing but finally talk to her because he can’t stand the fact that she’s different from other girls.

I can’t really picture canon Kuroo confessing, that’s why I’m asking, I really like your writing!

Thank u so much

Notice me Please!!!

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

— Summary: He has his eyes on you, but for some reason you don't look back.

— Tags/Genre: Fem!Reader | Fluff

— Warnings: None!

Kuroo drums his fingers impatiently on his desk, and with one hand resting on his chin, he stares at your figure across the classroom. You seemed quite entertained listening to music, which he has no idea what it is, but that sight makes him feel something inside him.

Frustration. He admit that he can't stand seeing you like this, because you're never like that when he tries to talk to you, and that made him feel a kind of jealousy, even if it was for something inanimate.

Every time you talked to him, you seemed indifferent, almost as if you were uninterested. Damn, why don't you look at him with the same twinkle in your eye when you're listening to something on your stupid headphones?

It's been a while since Kuroo started to have strong feelings for you, your heart skips a beat every time you pass each other in the school hallways, with Kuroo always looking back when you pass by him. But he never revealed that to you of course.

And no matter how many bad jokes or flirtations he told you, how many little gifts he left in your locker or on your desk in secret and then hinted that he was the one who left them there, it seemed like you never cared about his desperate actions for your attention.

At first, he thought this was just the way you acted, that you were more shy and reserved. But then he noticed the giggles you had with your friends, how talkative you seemed to be around them.

Now he thinks the problem is with him, that maybe you hate his presence, or just don't care about him.

He is a relatively popular person at school. His volleyball team reached the Nationals, which gave great prominence to all the team members, especially him. So it's no surprise to hear girls gossiping about Kuroo in the hallways.

To tell the truth, he didn't care much about it, sometimes he would even tease Yaku for having more fans than him, but that was it.

The only person he craves attention from is you.

But he doesn't know if you feel the same way, or at least care about his existence.

So that's why today would be the day he would bring the whole truth to light. His only option now would be to confess to you. Maybe it was a last choice made out of desperation and doubt, but he can no longer bear your indifference towards him.

Your club activities are over, so you can finally go home after a tiring day of boring classes and uninteresting people.

Now, you were walking towards the school exit, but you soon stopped when you saw a certain boy with a peculiar hairstyle standing at the gate, almost as if he was waiting for someone.

You figured he was waiting for Kenma to go home since they were best friends, so you didn't care much about it and continued walking to the exit.

"Hey, [Name]!"

A familiar voice calls you. And as you turn to the side, you see Kuroo walking towards you, waving at you.

"Let's go home together, shall we?" you look around, and then you look at him again, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you going with Kenma?" "He said he needed to go somewhere else to buy a new game, something like that. And since I'm alone... I thought about going with you."

He gives you a smile that would make anyone fall in love immediately, but it never seemed to have any effect on you.

You looked at him with an enigmatic expression, almost as if you want to read him through his actions and words. "Um, sure." You say as you adjust your backpack hanging on your shoulder, soon starting to walk, with Kuroo by your side.

Your house wasn't that far from the school, but in the situation you were in, it felt like an eternity had passed since you left the school gates and started walking.

Neither of you exchanged a single word, except for Kuroo who was humming some random song.

"Y'know..." he says after a moment, which made you direct your gaze to him, who was still staring at the path ahead.

"I once heard you listening to this song. You turn your music up so loud that anyone who passes by can hear it coming from your headphones." your expression changes to one of surprise.

"S-Seriously? I never realized that..." you laugh awkwardly, looking away to the floor.

"Yeah... but it's not because of music or headphones that I called you to walk with me." Kuroo stops walking unexpectedly, making you stop too.

Looking back, you notice his expression is more serious, almost as if he is a little nervous.

"Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you."

His tone of voice seemed to have changed too, which left you confused, or even a little nervous, as much as you didn't want to admit it.

"I...like you, [Name]." As he uttered these words, it was almost as if a weight had been lifted from the boy's shoulders, his previously tense posture allowing himself the luxury of relaxing, even if for a brief moment.

However, the opposite seemed to manifest in you. Previously unconcerned about what this simple walk would offer you, it was almost as if your breath was suddenly caught in your throat. Your heart soon feels like it's leaving your body, hammering in your chest in a fast, nervous rhythm.

"Huh?" you say in disbelief at what you heard. Shock quickly turns to annoyance, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "Look... don't think this kind of joke is funny, because you won't hear me laugh about it."

"Joke? Why would you think that?" Kuroo says this right after with a nasal laugh.

He walks closer to you, and you instinctively step back, until your back is in contact with a large tree that was close to the sidewalk. He stops right in front of you, and looks at you with a touch of doubt, almost as if he had heard something incredible.

"Why do you think I would make fun of something like that? You- my feelings for you... would never be a joke to me." he says with an affectionate tone, his eyes softening for a moment as he maintains eye contact with you.

"Maybe this could have been just a challenge your friends arranged for you, like in those cliché movies." your tone conveys sarcasm, but with a touch of bitterness "Or maybe some pretty girl rejected you, and is now looking for solace in anyone even remotely close to you..." "Or even-"

Your words are cut off as you feel Kuroo's lips land tenderly on your cheek. His hand reaches out to cup the other side of your face, and the other lands on the tree behind you, pinning you there.

"I like you, [Name]." he whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "And I will tell you this until you can't prove otherwise."

Kuroo takes his hand off the tree and takes your hand, then looks at you seriously. "And I mean it."

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you quickly compose yourself, and a small smile appears on your face, but this time it's genuine.

"Hmm, so you want to win me over, huh?" you push yourself away from the tree, placing your free hand on his shoulder. Your sudden closeness makes Kuroo surprised, making him suddenly feel shy.

"Only words won't convince me... you better work hard for it, Tetsurou." you move away from him, and start opening your backpack, looking for your headphones.

You give a small wave to Kuroo, but without turning towards him, focusing only on the path in front of you.

Dumbfounded, Kuroo waves back, his cheeks dyed with pink in embarrassment.

"Thank you for accompanying me, but I can go on my own from here." You say as you fit your headphones onto your head, putting on a random playlist that you made in honor of your little crush, who is definitely not Kuroo Tetsurou (it is).

— A/N: Uh........hi........I'm back.............

First of all, I want to apologize a thousand times to whoever sent me this request, I'm really sorry it took me SO LONG to post this. In addition to apologizing to everyone who follows me here, for not having given any sign of life for more than a month....😭

I really don't have a real excuse for doing this other than a total of 0 creativity and several hours of my life in hell (school), so I really needed to take this time for myself, until I felt more comfortable coming back here again.

I'm currently feeling quite creative artistically, mainly because I'm watching MHA again (which I'll probably bring here on my page) and also because I'm reading the Haikyuu manga. Plus, I passed pretty much every subject at school, so I don't have to worry so much about grades.

So...I'm officially back now!! I apologize again, and in compensation for this, I am already writing 3 more new things for you (2 are from MHA😜😜🤪); and I also won't open requests until I finish writing these, so stay tuned!!

[bruhnze]

PLAYING FOR KEEPS

CHAPTER 1 – United in Manchester (Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze)

Summary: Ona Batlle has had a crush on Lucy Bronze for a little while now… how will it go when she joins Barça? A 10 chapter series.

Warnings: Slow burn, angst, fluff, smut. All the things, but I give this as a complete warning for the whole series. Not every chapter involves all the warnings :).

Wordcount: the series is around 50k words (10 chapters)

Note: no Spanish or Catalan is used for continuity purposes, probably most team dialogue you just have to imagine it being not in english xx.

Summer 2023

Ona closed her final suitcase, her last belongings packed away. Most of her things had already made the journey to her new apartment in Barcelona, leaving her with only a few essentials like a couple of shirts, a pair of jeans and her toothbrush.

Tomorrow marked the official farewell to Manchester United, a place that had been her home for the past few years. Although the team had already celebrated her departure with a party, this final day felt like the true goodbye. After tomorrow, she would close the chapter on her England adventure and return to her beloved Catalonia to begin a new journey with FC Barcelona. Joining Barça again was a dream come true, as she regarded it as the best football club in the world. Despite her excitement for the future, there was also a little sadness with leaving behind Manchester and all the memories she had made there. It made the farewell bittersweet, goodbyes were never easy.

As Ona gathered the last of her things for her hand luggage tomorrow, her gaze fell on her small, worn diary. This little book had been her loyal companion through the highs and lows of her Manchester adventure. Unlike her other personal items that been shipped off in boxes, this diary was something she couldn’t part with like that. It had been her friend during tough times and a place to celebrate her victories. Every page was filled with a piece of her journey, from the rivalries to the moments of joy she had shared with new people she had met.

Flipping through the final pages, Ona’s eyes lingered on the section at the back of the booklet she had dedicated to players she admired and when she’d played them. One of who was Lucy Bronze. She had always felt a special kind of feeling towards the defender, she was drawn to her. And with Lucy now becoming her teammate at Barça, Ona felt a surge of excitement at the thought of finally sharing the pitch with her idol on the same side.

This part of her diary held memories of their past encounters, it described Ona’s admiring for Lucy’s talent and her growing ambition to be just as great as her, or maybe even greater, although she didn’t know if that was possible.

19 January 2020 – WSL – Manchester City 3-0 Manchester United“This match was tough. I tried my best to contain, but Manchester City was relentless. I remember one moment vividly—Lucy managed to slip past us and set up a goal with such ease. It was a harsh lesson in what it means to be at the top. Even though it stung, I couldn’t help but admire her skill. I wish to be as good of a right back as her”

13 February 2021 – WSL – Manchester City 3-0 Manchester United ‘’We faced City again, and it felt like déjà vu. Lucy seemed to be everywhere at once, and despite our best efforts, we couldn’t turn the tide. Losing like this for the second time was hard, but it only strengthened my resolve.” 9 October 2021 – WSL – Manchester City 2-2 Manchester United“This game was a nail-biter. We managed to hold City to a draw. Lucy made a brilliant run just after half time, but we managed to recover in time. Walking off the pitch, I felt a mix of pride and respect. Lucy’s talent was undeniable, and this game was a reminder of just how high I had to reach. We shook hands and she said ‘good game’ to me.” 24 February 2022 – She Believes Cup – England 0-1 Spain “Beating England was a sweet victory, but Lucy’s presence on the pitch was undeniable. Her leadership pushed us to our limits, I noticed how she figured our play out, and directed her players, but luckily we were scored a goal. This game was a turning point for me, a chance to measure myself against the best and it was an important step for Spain.” 13 March 2022 – WSL – Manchester United 1-0 Manchester City“Finally, we got the win we’d been chasing with United. I intercepted a pass from Lucy, leading to the goal that secured our victory. It was a moment of personal victory, knowing that I had finally gotten the better of one of my greatest rivals. Although she as a player is still better then me, our team was better this time.” 20 July 2022 – UEFA Women’s Euro 2022 – England 2-1 Spain“We came close, but England clinched the win, it was a tough loss. Seeing Lucy lift the trophy was a powerful reminder of the heights I aspired to. It was a tough pill to swallow, but England’s success was a testament to the dedication and skill required to reach the top. I vow to come back stronger with Spain, I believe we will come back stronger.” 20 August 2023 – FIFA Women’s World Cup 2023 – Spain 1-0 England“Winning the World Cup was incredible, but I couldn’t help but feel for Lucy. Seeing her disappointment was a stark reminder of how fleeting triumphs can be and how hard it is to stay at the top. It also highlighted the thin line between success and heartbreak. It made me even more excited to join her at Barça and hopefully share many successes together. I walked after her to comfort her when I saw her tears, she walked away at first and I didn’t know if it was my place to consolidate her, but I felt the urge to do it and in the end I feel like she got cheered up a little. I can’t wait to spend more time together when we play for the same team. She said she was excited for me to join too. We even saw eachother inside again, in the tunnel, there we had another quick conversation, she was already analyzing the game in her head, she told me I had an amazing game. I thanked her and then we hugged. She thanked me for coming after her, and then she laughed and told me to go celebrate.”

As Ona closed the diary, she felt a profound sense of gratitude, each little reflection told a story of growth, rivalry and respect. She was filled with a mix of excitement and anticipation. She was about to join a team that included Lucy Bronze, a player she had always admired from afar. The prospect of working alongside her idol, and now also her teammate, was both thrilling and daunting. She couldn’t wait to maybe even become friends with the English defender.

Recently, during last winter, Ona had met Lucy Bronze off the field, at the wedding of their mutual friend Lucy Staniforth. It was a different experience entirely - Lucy turned out to be even kinder and more down-to-earth than Ona had imagined. Their day together was filled with laughter, personal anecdotes and even some dancing, breaking down the barriers of their on-pitch rivalry.

Despite the connection they shared that day, Ona had hesitated to reach out to Lucy afterward, doubting whether the English defender would welcome the contact. Stani had reassured her that Lucy would have appreciated it, but Ona’s lingering uncertainty had held her back.

She was just another stranger to Lucy right, they only knew eachother vaguely from being rivals, Lucy didn’t know, and didn’t need to know, how much Ona looked up to her. Especially with their coming colleagueship for the same team, it would be a little unprofessional, and not to speak of the fact it was embarrassing.

…

Ona took a deep breath and looked around her very-soon-to-be-former training ground, she allowed herself a moment to appreciate her journey. The rivalries here, the victories, the defeats - they had all shaped her, preparing her for this new step ahead. Finally she had build enough experience to play for Barça’s first team with a big contract this time.

The cool Manchester air was heavy with nostalgia as she walked towards the building one last time. The crisp morning light filtered through the clouds, casting a soft, almost melancholic glow over the pitch.

As Ona moved into the busy locker room, memories of her time here flooded back, each one a bittersweet reminder of her impending departure.

Preparing for her final practice session, Ona's mind drifted back to a series of encounters that had come to define her time in England. Her time in England had been transformative. She had arrived in Manchester with a mix of excitement and dread, eager to prove herself in a new league and a new country. The transition had been challenging—the climate, the culture, the language—all required adjustments. Yet, as the months rolled by, Ona had found herself adapting and thriving. Manchester, with its gray skies, had become a part of her journey in ways she hadn’t expected.

One of the best things about her time here had been the friendships she’d built. The locker room, once an intimidating place, had turned into a second home. As Ona walked by the familiar lockers, she felt a little tug in her chest, knowing she’d soon leave it behind.

Lucy Staniforth sauntered over with a smile, but a hint of sadness. "So, last practice, huh? You ready for it?"

Ona gave a small laugh, even though her throat tightened. "I think so? It’s weird, though. Feels like I just got here, and now it’s already over."

Lucy nodded, her arm slipping around Ona’s shoulder as they sat down together. "It’s going to be so strange without you. You’ve gotta keep in touch, yeah?"

"Of course," Ona said, smiling. "And you’re always welcome to visit, you know that."

Just then, Mary Earps wandered over, her face showing how much she’d miss her too. "Onita!!!" Mary said, with a raised voice, drawing attention from the whole team. "You better invite me to sunny Barcelona at least once."

Ona pulled Mary into a tight hug, laughing. "Ofcourse."

Although the team had already held a goodbye party last week, they gathered around Ona one by one again, each declaring how much they were going to miss the tiny Spaniard and asking to be invited to her house or a fc Barcelona match when to opportunity was there.

…

The next morning, the reality of her move finally hit, but instead of feeling nervous, Ona was filled with excitement. A new life in Barcelona was waiting!

The club had set up a beautiful, modern apartment for her close to the training facilities. Her family had already sent her photos of all her things neatly unpacked. Everything looked perfect, but with one thing still missing—herself, and ofcourse her little dog Coco.

Ona felt a twinge of sadness as she checked Coco in for the flight. She hated that he had to travel in the hold, away from her, but she knew the flight wasn’t too long and they would soon be walking the sunny streets of Barcelona together.

During the flight Ona gazed out the window. She watched the familiar English countryside fade away and not much longer then two hours, the vibrant colors of Spain came into view, the bright sun shining down on the city below. The lively atmosphere of Barcelona, so different from Manchester’s gray skies, felt like a warm welcome.

When she had landed and gathered all her belongings and Coco, Ona’s heart skipped a beat as she spotted her family waiting for her. Her brother was holding a colorful sign that read “Welcome home Ona!”, but it was her mother’s open arms that she rushed into first.

Hugging her mother tightly, Ona felt a wave of relief and happiness wash over her. She had missed this—missed the warmth and comfort of her mother’s embrace, the real feeling of being home. Her father and brother joined the hug, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

As they drove to her new apartment, Ona couldn’t help but smile as she looked out at the familiar sights of her beloved city. This was it, her dream was finally coming true. She had faced the challenges of living in England, grown as a player, and now she was back in Barcelona, ready to play football she had always dreamed of.

Surrounded by her family and with Coco by her side, Ona knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

…

After a drive which wasn’t supposed to take this long, but with all the traffic in the streets of Barcelona, it did, Ona and her parents finally arrived at her new apartment. Her brother had already said goodbye after their greeting in the airport.

The moment she stepped inside, she felt happy. Her belongings already unpacked, made the place feel like home. The afternoon was spent in the company of her parents, laughing together and talking about the exciting time laid ahead.

They had ordered some local food, paella ofcourse, to celebrate her return to Spain. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, they sat around the small kitchen table, enjoying their first meal in her new home.

Ona’s mother fussed over her, making sure everything was in its place, while her father admired the view from the balcony. Ona ensured them for the hundred time she would be okay and they could go.

Finally Ona’s parents began to gather their things, preparing to leave. Her mother, with a warm smile and a kiss on her forehead, reminded Ona that she was just a call away. After a few more hugs and goodbyes, they were gone and the apartment fell into a peaceful quiet.

Ona was exhausted, the day’s events catching up to her all at once. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep, but there was one last thing she had to do: taking Coco for a walk.

She grabbed his leash and headed outside. The night air was refreshing against her skin. The neighborhood was peaceful, with only the sound of distant traffic and an occasional passerby.

Suddenly, she heard someone call out, "Ona? Ona Batlle!?"

Assuming it was a fan, Ona turned around with a kind smile.

But her smile grew wider with surprise when she saw Lucy Bronze standing just a few steps away, a dog by her side.

"Ona! I didn’t expect to see you here," Lucy said, her face lighting up with recognition. "I mean, I knew we’d run into each other soon, but not like this."

"Lucy! What are you doing here?" Ona asked, still wrapping her head around the coincidence.

"I live here," Lucy replied with a playful chuckle, joking. "I play for Barça, remember?"

Ona laughed, the initial tension melting away. "ahh, ofcourse," she chuckled and pointed to the building she had just left. "wait, you mean in that building?"

"Yeah," Lucy confirmed with a warm smile, finally reaching her. "are we hugging?"

Ona smiled back ‘’ofcourse, we’re teammates now’’, nodding as she stepped into the embrace. "Nice to see you again" she said softly as they pulled back, "I wasn’t expecting to see a familiar face so soon."

"When did you get back here?" Lucy asked, knowing Ona had a history with Barcelona but also recalling their brief encounter in July, when Ona had come down to the club to officially sign her contract.

"Today, just a few hours ago. My parents picked me up from the airport and we had dinner together before they headed out, they just left actually."

"Oh, you must be exhausted," Lucy said, sympathy lacing her voice.

"Yeah, I’m sure I’ll crash as soon as I hit the bed, but Coco needed a walk first." Ona chuckled. The dog looking up as he heard his name.

"Am I keeping you? I can take another route?" Lucy offered.

"No, not at all," Ona shook her head, her smile widening. "I’m glad I ran into someone familiar before training next week. Even though I used to play for Barça and I know a few girls from nationals, it still feels like a new beginning, honestly I’m a bit nervous."

..

They chatted for a while, sharing stories about moving clubs, discussing their excitement for the season to start again and even the world cup made a brief appearance, but Lucy assured Ona that she didn’t hold a grudge about that, chuckling that England would beat them next time.

Both dogs seemed to get along well too, happily trotting beside each other as their owners talked. The conversation flowed easily, much like it had the last times they had met. It was comforting for Ona to find a familiar face in the new place, especially someone she admired so much and it helped a lot that Lucy was being so nice to her.

Ona couldn’t help the fact that she had considered that Lucy might not be warm towards her, given that they were both playing for the same position. Something which could come with a bit of rivalry within teams if players were both eager for a starting position. She didn’t get any of those vibes off of the English defender, but maybe that was yet to come, she hoped not.

As they said their goodbyes in the building’s lobby and headed back to their respective apartments, Ona couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. Not only was she living her dream, but she also had a friend and teammate just a few doors down, with who she had just exchanged phone numbers to carpool next week.

When Ona finally shut her apartment door, she still wore the smile on her face, she had had a good day. A perfect day.

She tucked Coco into his bed and as she crawled under her own blankets, she still couldn’t stop smiling. This new chapter in her life was already off to an incredible start.

…

The next week, on a bright august morning, Ona and Lucy set off together for the FC Barcelona training ground, the sun casting a golden glow over the city. During the drive they chatted and Ona tried to ease her worries about fitting in with both her new and the familiar teammates. Lucy, with her easygoing and kind nature, reassured Ona that it would be like coming home for her.

Upon arriving at the club, the day was a whirlwind of medical tests and introductions. Ona was welcomed back into the fold by familiar faces. She saw Aitana, her national camp roomie, as they were both having their bike test at the same time. She hugged her and Bonmatí said she was very excited to see Ona back and couldn’t wait to play with her again.

Alexia, Jana, Salma and also some players she didn’t yet know, like Keira, Caroline and Esmee, everyone was kind and even though the medical examinations were thorough and took up most of the morning, she had had a good time.

The few nerves that Ona had started the day with were long forgotten as her first day of work went by.

..

By the end of the day, Lucy and Ona drove back together, sharing their impressions of the day. Ona had barely seen her neighbor around at the club, but she hadn’t expected Lucy to stay around holding her hand either. And after all it hadn’t really been necessary , she knew most off the girls there maybe even better then Lucy so it would’ve been weird. But she did feel really comfy near Lucy and was definitely eager to become friends with her.

The long hours had been exhausting, but the mood in the car was great. They reflected on the promising start to the season, discussing training plans and their hopes for the future. The drive back was filled with laughter and mutual encouragement, reinforcing the feeling that this new chapter was going to be an exciting adventure. Already planning out all the trophies they would win, all of them ofcourse.

..

The week had gone better than Ona could’ve imagined. Joining a new team was always a mix of excitement and nerves, but Ona was settling in well. Her developing friendship with Lucy helped a big part in that. They quickly fell into a rhythm, driving together whenever their schedules matched up. It was comforting to have someone to talk to during the rides—Lucy’s calm and laid-back demeanor put Ona at ease. They even walked their dogs together, sometimes by chance when they bumped into each other outside, and other times when one of them texted to arrange it. Those small moments of connection gave a spark to Ona’s days.

The training sessions were intense, but Ona was also starting to find her place within the team. Over the course of the week, she had formed a tight-knit group with Salma, Vicky, Bruna, Jana, Patri, and Pina. It came naturally—they joked around, supported each other through drills and even helped each other out with little things like advice on new drills or finding the best spots for post-training snacks.

This Saturday morning’s session was typical pre-season work: sharp, focused and designed to get them all in peak condition. The mood was upbeat, everyone knowing they’d have the afternoon off once they were done. Lucy had texted Ona earlier, suggesting they grab lunch together after training and Ona had agreed, excited about spending more time with her new friend.

As they finished the session, the group drifted towards the locker room, still chatting animatedly. The conversation quickly turned to lunch plans, with Vicky and Salma leading the charge.

“There’s this rooftop restaurant in the city that has the best views,” Vicky said, her eyes lighting up. “You guys have to come. The food’s amazing.”

Salma nodded enthusiastically. “And the vibe is so chill. Especially on a day like this.”

Ona was about to say yes when she felt a gentle nudge at her side. She turned to see Lucy, who was freshly showered and ready to go. “Hey, chauffeur, ready to go?” Lucy asked with a teasing smile.

Ona smiled back, feeling a bit torn. “I’d love to go with you guys another time, but I’m carpooling with Lucy.”

Vicky wasn’t going to let her friend off the hook so easily. “Why don’t you join us after you drop Lucy off?” she suggested, not missing a beat.

Lucy, responded with a grin. “I was actually going to buy Ona lunch for driving me to training, but if you’d rather go with them, we can always reschedule.”

Vicky waved off the idea with a laugh. “Lucy, you can join too, you’re a cool old person.”

Salma chuckled, adding, “Yeah, sure Lucy can join.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “Old? I’m not old.” She huffed.

The whole group standing around bursted out in a chuckle.

Ona quickly jumped in, without having control she called out to defend the older player. “Lucy’s not old.”

With a smile, Lucy draped an arm around Ona’s shoulder. “See? I’m not old,” she said, pulling Ona a little closer. The gesture was casual, but it made Ona feel warm inside.

The rest of the group laughed, the teasing and banter making the decision easy. Vicky grinned. “Alright, so it’s settled. We’re all going.”

Lucy nodded, still smiling. “Sounds like a plan.”

As they all headed out of the locker room together walking to the parking lot. Ona turned to Lucy, ´´sure it´s allright?’’, ‘’I don’t want to bother you, we can go another time for lunch together?’’.

Lucy looked at Ona curiously, ‘’do you not want me there? It’s cool if you just want to with your friends, I just-‘’ she smiled awkwardly, ‘’thought it could be fun?’’.

Ona shook her head, ‘’no, no’’ she put her hand on Lucy’s lower arm, ‘’I would really like for you to come’’.

‘’Sure?’’ Lucy asked, ‘’you can just drop me off at home if-

‘’No’’ Ona shook her head, ‘’I just thought-‘’.

Salma and Vicky called out from Ona’s car ‘’Ey, can you open the car Ona?’’.

Ona looked up annoyed, ‘’why? what are you two doing?’’.

‘’Patri and Pina said we could drive with you’’ Vicky said proudly.

Ona internally groaned, she would’ve rather sat alone with Lucy, but she didn’t show her discontentment and just clicked open the car.

‘’I really like you joining the lunch’’ she quickly said to Lucy on more time before they made it to the car too.

…

The lunch was great, Ona couldn’t help but glance at Lucy every once in a while, especially when she laughed at one of her own jokes. She normally didn’t like people that did that, but with Lucy it was so cute, so innocent. She wanted to watch her laugh for hours.

Lucy had paid for the lunch of everyone, Ona hadn’t expected it, no one had. But she had been gone for a second and when they’d asked for the bill the waiter had told it had been paid. Then Lucy had confessed she’d already paid.

After dropping Salma off they were now at Vicky’s place. ‘’Thanks Ona, and thank you Lucy, you’re a G’’ Vicky said before closing the car door, ‘’see you next week’’.

‘’Bye Vicky’’, Lucy called out as Ona stayed silent.

She drove off again, now headed to their apartment block, about a twenty minute drive.

‘’You good?’’. Lucy said, turning the music down a little, ‘’you seem very far away in thoughts’’.

Ona blinked, ‘’uhm, oh, yeah, no’’.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’tired?’’.

‘’Yes,’’ Ona nodded, happy with the excuse easily offered to her, ‘’a bit tired’’.

‘’Ah, maybe a nap when you’re home then’’.

 ‘’Maybe, but I have to walk Coco first’’.

‘’Ah, Narla also has to go on a walk, maybe we can walk together?’’.

Ona smiled, but quickly put her face in neutral again, trying to stay casual. ‘’Mhm, okay.’’

‘’If you’re too tired it is fine too,’’ Lucy said, ‘’don’t feel pressured’’.

‘’No, no’’ Ona said, momentarily glancing over to face Lucy, ‘’I would like to walk together’’.

‘’Good, I like walking them together.’’

‘’Yeah me too, they seem to like eachother.’’ Ona said, a little blush creeping up her cheeks.

‘’Mhm.’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’becoming besties like their moms’’.

...

Masterlist: Playing for keeps

[palepersonacoffee]

💜for the ask game?

💜 What is your favourite fantasy involving detrans/misgen?

My doctor decides I'd be be better off as a girl. Of course, if I knew that that's what they thought, I would switch doctors, so they don't tell me. Instead, they trick me into detransitioning- They tell me that my T levels are abnormally high, so I need to take a lower dose to get me back on track. After all, extra testosterone in the body turns into estradiol or something right? We don't want that. So they halve my dose indefinitely, and send me to a therapist that's in on the game. I think the therapist is kind of weird, but I don't want my mental health to take a turn because I'm sad about my lower dose.

The next appointment I go in to see the doctor, they tell me to take my shirt off. I ask why, and they gaslight me into thinking it's so they can check my health somehow- but they don't do it right away. I sit there on the table covering my chest up while they talk about the new drugs they're prescribing me. I don't think about anything but how humiliated I am- Whats Flibanserin? What's domperidone? What's Metoclopramide? What's topamax and why is the dose on that so high? I don't know and I'm not paying attention. I'm just desperately wishing I could put my shirt back on. When theyre finished listing off all the new medications I need to take, the brush my hands put of the way where I was covering up like it's the most normal thing in the world. They start squeezing my tits, massaging them, pinching and pulling and jiggling. I'm squeezing my eyes shut wishing it was over.

My next appointment, I'm really confused for some reason. Dizzy and stupid and dim. The therapist has been having me undress to talk about my trauma because somehow that's going to help me, so it's not weird that the doctor is having me undress now. They finger my sloppy cunt while they tell me that I need to stop taking testosterone entirely, it's very dangerous for me. I try to ask why but I'm so out of it, they just brush right over me. They put me on estrogen and I don't even notice. They tell me that to keep myself healthy, I need to start pumping my breasts. There's yucky stuff in there and I need to get it all out every night before I can start taking T again. They up my dose on everything. They tell me I can go ahead and leave my boxers and jeans and binder with them, I don't need them, they need to make sure I'm not using them to hurt myself. Oh, here's the breast pump I need btw. Start immediately.

My next appointment, I'm basically brainless. The therapist had to drop me off. Why was the therapist driving me around places again? What happened to all my boy clothes? Why are my tits so big? I can't remember. I don't have the brainpower to think about it for very long. The doctor doesn't even bother talking to me other than to tell me to strip. They press something big into my wet vagina, so big it's uncomfortable and I can't close my legs around it. Somehow, maybe using a medical glue, they make sure it stays inside me. Then they start fingerings my ass open, and do the same there. They tell me it's unsafe for me to be alone, but luckily there's a clinic near here that can help me. I need to be admitted ASAP. I look ridiculous when they finally let me stand up from where I was bent over the examination table, I can't even walk right. I waddle around, crab walking because I can't close my legs around the things inside me. They don't say anything when they pry my mouth open to stuff something inside there, either- I don't realize it, but it's my old boxers. They expect me to just stupidly take it without any explanation, and I do. They tell me to step into the closet over there and they shut the door behind me, locking me in until the end of their shift. I can hear them starting the same thing with another confused girl, but I cant make any noise to warn them. I wouldn't know what was even happening anyways. I can barely articulate my own name. When their shift is finally over, they take me to the clinic- It's just their house.

[violetisconfused]

Okay okay okay. Hear me out: Apollo x Telemachus.

I know I sound mental rn but it would be REALLY funny, and honestly kinda cute. Like you cannot deny that Telemachus would be Apollo’s type. I fear local pretty young prince is exactly the kinda person Apollo would be like “yeah I’d hit” and Tel would honestly probably go from “why is this god talking to me so often?” to “wait is he flirting with me?” to “wait but I don’t like men… but like Apollo’s kinda cute… wait no!” to “okay so maybe I like men but do I wanna get involved with a god?” pipeline of self discovery era all because the god of archery and music came down and started flirting one day

Athena is VERY unimpressed with her half brother for this one of course 😔 she is in fact their biggest hater (Ody is close in second he wants Apollo AWAY from his child)

Penelope and Hermes are very supportive of the relationship though. Penelope more in a “as long as you’re happy and he doesn’t hurt you or get you hurt I’m fine with it” way. Hermes though, he actively encouraged Apollo to start flirting with Telemachus to begin with (great grandpa being a wingman to get you set up with a god? More likely than you think)

As for the rest of the Olympians? Zeus is wondering why his existence is haunted by Odysseus and his family, same with Poseidon. Artemis is entirely unsurprised her twin brother has decided to start dating a mortal prince, it’s very on brand for him. Ares couldn’t care less, same with Hephaestus. Aphrodite is actually a big fan only because she can tell that Apollo genuinely likes Telemachus. Hera is indifferent about it but I like to imagine that after God Games she’s a slightly better step mom so she’s relatively supportive of Apollo’s prince rizzing endeavors.

The relationship itself is surprisingly highly functional and really normal despite Apollo being a god. For a long time Telemachus makes an internal vow to himself not to fall in love too much because he’s aware that Apollo tends to switch up on how much he loves his lovers sometimes and doesn’t wanna get hurt but after a very long discussion and Apollo swearing he’s serious about this (like Hyacinth levels of serious about this. Bro is LOCKED IN) and after staying up literally all night thinking about it Telemachus decides to seriously give this a chance and stop acting weird and it goes extremely well actually. They hang out daily, usually in like the woods or something or down by the shore where there isn’t anybody around simply because neither of them really wanna deal with other people knowing they’re together. It isn’t because either one is ashamed of the other or anything, just simply wanting privacy and knowing they wouldn’t get that with Telemachus being prince and Apollo being a literal god so people would probably just be staring the whole time.

Apollo also gives Telemachus gifts like crazy. He’ll write him love poems and songs all the time and is always equally as excited to show him every time (Telemachus is always just as excited to hear it because he’s never had anyone love him like this before)

Now the funniest part of this whole thing: the era where Apollo is trying to woo Telemachus. He 100% used serenading but stopped after Odysseus tried to shoot him with an arrow (to be fair it was the 10th time Apollo was outside the palace singing so the attempted shooting was pretty valid. Ody wanted his sleep)

Then Apollo started bugging Athena and tagging along with her whenever she’d visit the royal family (she knew what he was trying to do but there’s no stopping Apollo once he wants to woo somebody. Not for a lack of obvious hating though. Very actively hates on his flirting. Apollo is extremely un-subtle with his flirting too which makes it even funnier because 9/10 Telemachus just runs away because he’s never been flirted with before

Then after the flirting just turns into Telemachus avoiding Apollo at all costs (Telemachus is in his questioning his romantic attraction era during this but ofc Apollo doesn’t know this) Apollo just starts leaving love poems once a week (this goes on for about a month so four poems in total).

Then yk as I said before Telemachus decides to give it a shot blah blah blah gay people real they kiss the end 🥳

So yeah there’s me explaining my crackship. It’s essentially just: “Apollo likes pretty boys and Telemachus is a (very awkward) pretty boy”

[born-to-riot]

Idk if this counts as a Drabble but basically it starts as me theorizing an event in Prythian and then turns into ‘what if Azris’

WC: 3,325

(TW: ABO, loosely nsfw, talks of breeding, male omegas have cocklets and boypussies).

Okay but hear me out.

I want a Prythian mating run

Make it abo (along with their regular magic powers) (however maybe there’s some traditional power that participants are required to take so that it dampens their powers and awakens the alpha/beta/omega inside of them)

It’s primal, the lopers start first. Battling each other to find and make the best den and claim territory for them to bring their runner back to once they catch them.

After a while, they catch the scents of the runners filtering throughout the forest. That’s when the game truly begins.

the runners don’t make it easy (usually betas and omegas)

(What’s point of making it easy when you’re strong and want to make the alpha/beta prove they are worthy and can breed you full of strong pups)

(Any second gender is allowed to sign up in any position: runner or loper)

(For example, just last season the alpha prince of Adriata, Varian, shocked Prythian when rumors spread that he signed up to be a runner. The shock multiplied when it was rumored that he was caught by the scariest and tiniest alpha of Prythian, Amren of the Night Court. Legend has it the two came out three days after the mating run covered in blood and scratches but are now inseparable).

It’s all about scent.

Only unmated faes can participate. Think of the occasion like an annual festival to see if two halves of a whole can find one another.

Not every pair who comes together will be mates as an actual mating bond is rare to find (also sometimes the pairs aren’t even the most compatible scent-wise be it alpha athleticism, an omega caught in a trap, or just the luck of the catch) but usually by the time an loper catches an runner, both of their pheromones have their instincts roaring.

But if you are mates or just are the most compatible for one another… oh the mother will let you know. There will be some other force pushing the runner to go faster, there is something that pushes the loper to be more violent about ridding the runner’s trail of other lopers running after the same scent. The closer they get to one another the wetter the omegas cunt gets the heavier an alphas cock, even betas will adjust accordingly depending on whether they are a runner or a loper.

Azris below the cut

Now let’s say Eris enters the race this year as a runner. Years prior he’s been forced by his father to sign up as a loper despite the fact that he’s technecially an omega, which is fine (but dangerous- some fellow lopers would get distracted by his scent and try to go after him. While he always fought them off he can’t deny the inner thrill of the chase) and Some years he’s caught good scents and has even followed some of them, hunted them. Usually though, his interest would fade and he would just return to his den and hang out in his nest until the event was over.

Not this year, this year, instead of just going to the Autumn run, Eris heard a rumor that a certain Shadowsinger would finally be participating in an intercourt run. He hated himself for being weak to the temptation but ever since he felt the other’s scarred hands around his neck Eris’ inner omega can’t fight the fantasy of being knotted by the Illyrian.

Eris doesn’t tell his father that he’s signing up as a runner, of course. He just lets the man know that he is going to try his luck with a wider pool of runners to choose from- which Beron accepted.

There is a gathering before the run, this is where runners and lopers can mingle and familiarize each other with scents that intrigue them. Legend has it that it is at one of these minglings where Thesan and his lover first made contact. Eris goes to this meeting and tries to mingle. He talks to many handsome and beautiful lopers, but he doesn’t feel his cocklet twitch until he makes eye contact with Azriel, who is staring at him from across the room, over the head of the third archeron sister. Elain.

Shit. Eris can’t believe he let himself forget about the newest object of Azriel’s affections. He can’t believe he even allowed himself to hope for just a minute that the Shadowsinger might return his interest. He can’t believe he let himself think that he smelt the other’s cedar infused arousal back when he whispered in his ear at the High Lord’s meeting.

Eris quickly sidesteps so that he’s out of view of the Shadowsinger but he can’t rid himself of the memory of his hazel eyes. Maybe his father was right, he should never be a runner because omegas let their thoughts get clouded by their cunts.

Eris knows he should leave the gathering before Azriel could have the opportunity to spread the word to whatever other members of the Inner Circle that are present. But his inner omega is waging war against him. Give him your scent. We are the most worthy omega in here. Eris isn’t so sure if he agrees with that, but he’s come this far and defied his father by opening up the possibility for a son of Autumn to be caught and bred. He supposes it won’t hurt to give the alpha a reminder of the scent he should be hunting.

So Eris moves, head held high. He walks around the edges of the room, dodging wanting alphas who approach him. He stops once he’s two meters away from the present members of the Night Court Inner Circle, facing the back of Azriel’s wings that separate him from the two ladies in front of him—Mor and Elain. The two female fae are chatting with one another and Azriel is clearly focused on analyzing the room around him— at least Eris assumes so based on the slight movements of the black haired man’s head.

Shining gold twinkles at the corner of Eris’ eye and grabs his attention. He spies a tall spring court alpha adorned in gold jewelry. The male is not Tamlin but he sure is beautiful, Eris can’t help but think. He sees the golden male approaching his direction at the same time Eris recognizes a semi-familiar shadow flitting by him. He has an idea.

Eris waits as the golden alpha comes closer and closer and he makes note that the shadow that was passing by has stilled and attempted to blend in with the natural darkness of the wall nearest to him. Eris feels a smirk form on his face as he thinks about the fact that the Shadowsinger has no idea that Eris knows each and every time the male is watching him.

Finally, the golden alpha gets close enough and Eris purposefully angles himself so that the other will ‘accidentally’ knock into him. The plan goes accordingly and soon Eris is letting out a pointed gasp as the Spring Court Alpha catches him by the waist with an apology. Eris laughs then, purposefully emitting his toasted maple and almond scent as if he was truly embarrassed. Eris waves the golden alpha away, smiling as if he wasn’t disgusted by his musk of freshly cut grass, and calmly readjusts his blazer before walking towards the exit of the gathering. It’s not until after he takes two steps out of the door that he hears footsteps behind him and sees a shadow in front of him that mimics the lines of the familiar pair of wings that never seem to escape his mind.

“Why hello Azriel,” Eris says, pausing his movements, listening as the footsteps get louder as the Shadowsinger approaches him from behind. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I think I should be saying that to you,” Eris can’t help but bite back a keen as he smells the other’s cedar aura. Azriel grabs him by the waist—his hand covering the exact same spot where the Spring Court alpha had held Eris earlier— and turns him around to face him. Eris is proud of himself for maintaining an unimpressed expression on his face as he feels his cunt clench around nothing.

Eris tries not to show how much Azriel affects him, he tries not to cry as the Shadowsinger releases him and puts his hands back in his pockets. He tries to convince himself that he isn’t desperate for this alpha to chase him tomorrow, to accept his challenge, to want him.

“Are you a runner or a loper?” Azriel asks, surprising Eris as the Autumn Court male was expecting some sort of snarky comment that is typical of a member of the Night Court when it comes to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eris smirks in a manner that he knows irritates the other, hoping for Azriel to let out more of his scent.

“I’ve heard you usually spend your mating run in Autumn as a loper… that you haven’t…” Azriel trails off, his scent growing stronger as he completes the sentence internally. Eris takes a step closer to Azriel.

“That I haven’t taken anyone back to my nest? That I haven’t been bred yet?” He asks, “What is it Azriel, what have you heard?”

What do you want, alpha? Eris shushes his inner omega.

“I’ve heard you’ve chased hundreds of runners but none of them have satisfied you enough to finish the chase.”

Eris spies Azriel gulp and his wings twitch as he says so.

“What you’ve heard is true,” Eris admits and shivers as he senses Azriel’s cedar musk grow stronger. He feels his own inner omega screaming inside of him, begging him to let out his own maple and almond in response. He feels heat pooling in his stomach and he knows he needs to exit this conversation soon before his inner omega takes over completely.

“Are you running?” Azriel asks, stepping even closer to Eris. Eris glares at him, hating that Azriel’s curiosity is feeding into his inner hope that the male might be interested in him.

“Maybe, not that it should matter to you with the remaining Archeron sister in the mix,” Eris crosses his arms over his chest.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I just want to know,” Azriel insists. Eris rolls his eyes. Liar.

“Okay Shadowsinger, whatever you say,” Eris nods at the other and starts to walk off towards his tent, trying not to get his hopes up.

“Eris, wait!” Azriel calls out to him, causing Eris to pause.

“Yes?” He asks, turning around to face the other who hasn’t moved from has spot.

“I…” Eris feels more heat pool into his core at the growl of frustration that Azriel lets out.

“I fucking hate you, but I need to know,” Azriel sounds a mix of conflicted and determined. That is more than what Eris was expecting so he’ll take a win where he can.

“The only thing I will tell you,” Eris starts as he approaches Azriel, figuring this is his best chance to let the other know his intentions. Almost as if the Shadowsinger is in a trance he takes a couple steps forward to meet Eris, bringing the two chest to chest. Eris is taller but Azriel is wider with muscles and his wings.

“Hmm” Azriel hums, prompting him. Eris watches as Azriel removes his hands from his pockets and starts to clench and unclench them.

Tell him, his inner omega encourages. Eris knows this is his only chance to get what he wants. If he were to get caught by another loper, not mate him, and his father finds out Eris knows he will never be allowed to participate in another mating run again unless it’s in Autumn and he is loping.

“I’m tired of being empty, Azriel. I want pups, I want a partner, I’m tired of pretending I’m not interested in you,” Eris ignores how Azriel widens his eyes in surprise and continues before he loses his courage, knowing he would be executed by his father if the man ever found out Eris was so weak to his instincts.

“I know what I smelled in that High Lord’s meeting, your hands were around my throat but your alpha was in your eyes and he was daring me not to disobey. I could smell that you wanted me and I can tell that every time you’ve looked at me since you’ve been thinking about it,” Eris sniffs as he feels a tear coming to his eyes, he knows his dream is impossible but he also owes himself one last chance to see it through.

“Remember my scent, Azriel,” Eris shakily reaches out for one of Azriel’s scared hands and takes it into his own, ignoring how his inner omega screams in delight at the contact. Azriel doesn’t resist as Eris brings the shadowsinger’s wrist up to his neck and rubs it against his scent gland before releasing it. He briefly eyes how Azriel’s wings seem to spread wider around the two of them, almost like he’s trying to block Eris from the sight of anyone who may walk by. Eris refuses to get his hopes up, even as he notes how carefully Azriel brings his now-scented hand back to his side.

“Do know, Azriel, if you decide to try and catch me, I won’t make it easy for you. If you successfully catch me, I’ll try to break loose and force you to catch me again. If you give me no other options but to submit to you, I will never let you go. I don’t give second chances, I can’t afford to,” Eris’ amber eyes stay locked on Azriel’s returning hazel gaze, “I refuse to settle for anything less than what I deserve and do not think I will wait for you if some other alpha proves to be stronger.”

Azriel alpha lets out a growl at that statement. Eris ignores the surprise that blinks into Azriel’s eyes at his own reaction and he takes a step back so he can communicate his thoughts clearly—he also begs his inner omega to shut the fuck up about how badly Azriel’s alpha clearly wants them, Eris knows that hope only leads to disappointment. However, Eris also knows that he can’t afford to have any regrets here, so he must finish his piece.

“Think about what you want, Azriel. Don’t let your guilt or loyalty influence your decision. I will say this only once: I refuse to be your back-up option, if you come after me, you better want me.”

With that Eris turns around before Azriel can say anything or shift his expression in response to Eris pouring out his soul for the other to see. He quickly walks away, trying to ignore the eyes he can feel boring into his back as he does so.

That night in his tent Eris weighs the merits of following through with running. The mating run is about lopers chasing the most compatible scent. It’s a bloody affair, lopers often fight each other if they sense another alpha on the path to their runner of desire and even once the loper catches a runner any respectful runner will fight back and make them work for it.

The pre gathering is often a time for lopers and runners to first get familiarized with some scents so they can maybe find one they want to chase the next morning. If he is being honest with himself, Eris is a little embarrassed at how much weakness he showed Azriel in admitting he wants the other to consider him. But Eris also is someone who isn’t afraid to go after what he wants and he knows that realistically this is his only chance. Also he knows that Azriel’s family has probably planted doubts in Azriel’s head so Eris needed to make sure the other saw him as a possible mate.

As Eris lays down to sleep that night, he imagines how tomorrow could go if Azriel decides to choose him. The lopers would get up earlier and paint themselves in their chosen ritualistic symbols from their courts and that represent themselves. The runners would all gather behind the lopers as they line up to race into the forest, ready to compete to find and make the best den before the runners begin. Maybe if Eris is lucky, Azriel will give him a sign that he’s made his decision, that he is going to be coming after him. If that’s the case then Eris knows he won’t be able to stop his cunt from releasing juices as he bathes himself in preparation during the dedicated time while the lopers are in the forest and building dens. Eris would wait with the other runners once he was done, strategizing and planning against possible traps and obstacles that will be in his way. He knows he has an advantage as the heir of Autumn, even if the special powder they take dampen his powers, he grew up jumping from tree to tree along with all his siblings. Eris knows his inner omega will be singing and he will happily take a backseat once it’s finally time to run. He trusts his omega to guide him where to go and he trust in his own strength to keep him safe.

Eris knows he smells good, maple and almonds make a lovely mix and he knows his inner omega won’t be able to stop radiating his scent like a beacon. Eris is only interested in one alpha, and the powder doesn’t affect his wings as they are additional limbs. So he knows if Azriel comes for him, he would come from above. Eris imagines hopping from tree to tree staying under the cover of leaves. He imagines being stuck at one point, up high, the next tree too far for him to make the leap and a crowd of drooling alphas waiting for him to fall. He imagines Azriel finally swooping in and growling at them all, taking care of them viscously. Eris knows his cunt would be dripping at the sight but he also knows that he couldn’t watch he’d have to keep moving.

Eris doesn’t know how Azriel would finally catch him but Eris knows that he’d fight with every fiber of his being, he’d want Azriel to prove that he wants him, that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to claim him, that he’s strong enough to father their pups. He knows that his cunt will be throbbing once he finally submits and he hopes Azriel will take a moment to taste him before he flies them to his den.

Eris imagines that Azriel would probably set up his den in a cave on a mountain, higher than other alphas, easy to defend and probably close to a water and food source. He imagines that Azriel would be thoughtful and supply the cave with nesting materials for Eris to use once he brings him there.

Eris doesn’t even want to imagine what comes next as he knows the idea of Azriel breeding him over and over and claiming him will give him too much hope.

Eris falls asleep, oblivious to the shadows that occupy his tent, their master not planning on letting his dream omega slip away from him when he finally has a chance to make him his.

____________

OKAY so I wasn’t planning to write all of this, it’s kind of just a story I want to happen but I am too lazy to fully write myself.

But any thoughts?

Also lopers don’t have to kill rival lopers but there’s nothing against it if they do… azriel most definitely will eliminate threats.

(Also this is just an idea, if someone were to write something like this I would spread my legs for them especially if they added smut and gore WOOT)

[ssa-dado]

6 - Synthesis

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, slow burn

Summary: After an intense case, you and Hotch struggle with unresolved tensions from a previous argument. On the train back, Hotch overhears Peter comforting you about a recent tragedy, realizing he’s been blind to your pain. Later, Hotch unexpectedly shows up at your apartment, opening up and apologizing for his emotional distance, leading to a heartfelt moment of mutual vulnerability. That evening, you attend Peter’s welcome-back party, feeling lighter and reconnecting with the team. That's when Peter makes an unusual bet with you.

Warnings: death, grief, emotional abuse, domestic violence, family dysfunction.

Word Count: 7.6k

Dado's Corner: Phi posting two chapters in less than 12 hours? More likely than you think. I was supposed to wait until tomorrow, but I just couldn’t help myself. Thank you all so much for the love and support you’ve shown for the series so far! Each of you holds a special place in my cold little heart. Please don’t hate me after this - it hurts me, too - but hey, there’s some interrogation room Aaron to sweeten things up. I’m particularly proud of this cute, lovely chapter. It doesn’t make me want to jump out the window. Not even a little bit. Embrace the pain.

previous part ; masterlist

Gideon smiled knowingly, his eyes shifting between you and Hotch. “Thesis, antithesis, and synthesis,” he mused, almost as if he were speaking to himself but loud enough for you to hear. “Funny how life always seems to come back to that, doesn’t it?”

●

The observation room was dimly lit, casting long, uneven shadows over you and Peter as you stood behind the two-way mirror, your heartbeat seemed to echo in the quiet, barely audible over the hum of the fluorescent light. You watched Hotch on the other side, preparing to interrogate the suspect, he appeared calm as usual, wearing his mask of stoicism proudly on his face, but you could tell the tension was palpable.

The room beyond the glass was stark, the suspect sat at the metal table gleaming under the harsh light with a smug expression, arms casually draped over the back of his chair, utterly unbothered. Te view was borderline infuriating.

The hair on your arms stood up, not just from the cold, but from the overwhelming sense of helplessness that had settled over the case. You couldn’t shake the nagging thought that you were grasping at straws, the weight of the local police’s blunders pressing heavily on your chest. They had fumbled, and badly. Critical evidence had slipped through their fingers, lost or contaminated in the chaos. You didn’t even want to hear the whole story—you were too furious, your senses shutting down as the same detective who had once doubted your work stumbled through a pathetic apology. All you had now was Hotch. No physical proof, no solid evidence to tie this man to the crimes you knew he’d committed.

Your gaze flicked back to the suspect, his arrogance nauseating. He knew the game, knew the system, and worse, he knew how to manipulate it to his advantage. There was a clock ticking in your mind, every second precious, the sense of urgency suffocating. If Hotch couldn’t break him - if he couldn’t find a way past the layers of lies and smug indifference - you’d lose him. You couldn’t afford that, not now.

Peter’s jaw clenched as he observed the scene, his frustration evident. “This was a mistake,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “We warned them not to bring him in without something solid. Now we’re stuck trying to clean up their mess.”

You nodded, your mind still reeling from the argument with Hotch the night before, as if all of this mess wasn’t already enough for your nerves to handle. The tension between you two had lingered, unresolved and heavy, adding another layer to your frustration. You tried to shake it off, but it clung to you, making it even harder to focus. “Yeah, and now Hotch has to pull off a miracle,” you said, your voice tinged with both a tinge of annoyance and worry. “He’s got one shot to get this right.”

Peter turned his attention back to the interrogation room, his eyes narrowing as Hotch sat across from the suspect. “If anyone can do it, it’s him. I’ve seen Hotch work multiple times, and somehow he even looks sharper, more intense.”

Inside the room, Hotch began his interrogation with a measured calm, his eyes locked on the suspect, who lounged back in his chair, exuding a quiet confidence. Hotch started with the basics, the routine questions meant to establish rapport, but the suspect was playing his own game, answering with a smug smile and evasive nonchalance.

Hotch leaned back, crossing his arms as he observed the suspect’s every move, every twitch. “You’ve been careful,” Hotch said, his voice steady but probing. “I’ll give you that. You’ve covered your tracks well. But you slipped up, everyone makes mistakes, especially when they think they’re untouchable.”

The suspect smirked, feigning boredom. “You’re wasting your breath, Agent Hotchner. You and I both know you have nothing on me - no evidence, no witnesses. You’re grasping at straws.”

Hotch’s gaze remained unflinching, but you could see the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he leaned in just slightly, narrowing the space between the two of them. “You’re right, we don’t have physical evidence, but we do have you, and that’s enough. Because here’s the thing - you’re not as smart as you think you are. You’ve made this personal, and personal is messy.”

The suspect chuckled, tapping his fingers lightly on the table as if this were a game to him. “Oh, please. I’ve seen every tactic in the book, and I’ve got an answer for all of them. You can’t intimidate me, Hotchner. I know my rights. You’ve got nothing.”

Hotch’s expression remained stoic, but there was a flash of determination in his eyes. “You think this is about intimidation? You’re missing the point. This isn’t about fear, it’s about you and the mistakes you’ve made. You’ve left a trail, little hints of who you really are. You think you’ve hidden them, but they’re there, buried in the details.”

The suspect’s confident facade faltered for just a second, but he quickly recovered, scoffing. “You’re reaching. This isn’t some TV show where the bad guy breaks down in a dramatic confession. I’m not saying a damn thing without my lawyer.”

Hotch’s demeanor shifted, a cold, calculating edge creeping into his voice. “Your lawyer? You think your lawyer’s going to save you? They’ll do their job, make sure you’re comfortable, make sure you feel safe. But at the end of the day, they’re not in here with you, they’re not the ones facing the consequences of your actions - you are. And you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

From the other side of the glass, you watched Hotch methodically chip away at the suspect’s arrogance. Each line of questioning was a carefully placed strike, designed to weaken his resolve, but the suspect wasn’t giving in easily. He deflected, twisted Hotch’s words, and tried to turn the conversation back on him.

“You think you’re so righteous, don’t you?” the suspect sneered, leaning forward with a glint of disdain in his eyes. “Sitting there, acting like you’ve got the moral high ground. You don’t know me, Agent Hotchner. You don’t know a damn thing about what I’ve been through, the people I’ve dealt with - you think you’re better than me?”

Hotch didn’t flinch even if the last words reminded him of the argument he had with you down at the lobby. “No, I don’t think I’m better than you, but I do know who you are. You’re the guy who blames everyone else when things go wrong, the guy who hides behind his intellect because he’s too scared to admit he’s just another coward trying to prove he’s not afraid. But guess what? That act doesn’t work on me.”

The suspect’s composure slipped, his anger flaring as Hotch hit a nerve. “You don’t get to judge me! You sit there like you’re some kind of saint, but you’re just as flawed as the rest of us. You have no right—”

Hotch cut him off sharply, his voice cold and unyielding. “You’re right. I’m not perfect. I’ve made my mistakes, and I own them. But I’m not the one hiding behind excuses, you are. You’re the one who thinks he can play God, decide who deserves to live or die based on your twisted sense of justice. But here’s the thing: you’re not in control, not anymore.”

From the observation room, you felt your chest tighten. Hotch was relentless, pushing the suspect further than you’d ever seen him push anyone before. It was as if he’d tapped into something raw and unforgiving, something that drove him to keep going, to tear down every last defense the suspect had.

Peter glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “I’ve never seen him go this hard. It’s like he’s on a mission.”

You nodded, the tension from last night’s argument still simmering inside you. You knew why Hotch was pushing himself like this: because of you, because of the unresolved words between you, and because he needed to prove something, maybe even to himself. “He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants.”

Inside the room, the suspect’s attitude was crumbling. Hotch leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, laced with a quiet menace. “You think you’re untouchable, that you’ve covered all your bases. But I’ve spent years in courtrooms taking down men just like you, men who thought they were too smart to get caught. I know every trick, every lie, every pathetic attempt to weasel your way out of the truth.”

The suspect’s face tightened, his hands clenching into fists as he tried to maintain control. But Hotch was unrelenting, his gaze piercing through every layer of the man’s defenses. “You don’t want to admit it, but you’re scared, I can see it in your eyes. You’re terrified that the truth is going to come out, that all your carefully crafted lies are going to fall apart right in front of you - so, here’s your last chance. Tell me the truth. Tell me why you did it.”

There was a beat of silence, a heavy pause as the suspect’s composure finally shattered. His shoulders slumped, his defiance giving way to resignation. He looked up at Hotch, defeated and angry, his voice breaking as he finally confessed, each word a bitter surrender. “Fine. Fine, you want the truth? I did it. I killed them. But you have no idea why. You don’t know what it’s like to be powerless.”

“No you’re right, I don’t.” Hotch sat back, a flicker of triumph in his eyes, though his expression remained guarded: he had what he needed. The confession was out, raw and unfiltered, pulled from the depths of the suspect’s desperation.

Peter let out a low whistle, still reeling from what he’d witnessed. “That was... intense. I’ve never seen Hotch like that, he’s kind of intimidating.”

You nodded in agreement, your gaze still fixed on Hotch as he calmly gathered his notes, preparing to leave the room. You could see the toll it had taken on him, the emotional weight he carried even as he walked out victorious, and as much as you wanted to celebrate the success, the confrontation from the night before still lingered, leaving you with the unsettling realization that this fight wasn’t just with the suspect - it was within Hotch himself.

When Hotch stepped out of the interrogation room, the tension in his posture seemed to ease, but only slightly. His face was set in its usual mask of calm control, yet there was a heaviness in his eyes, a flicker of something raw that he couldn’t quite hide. Peter clapped him on the back, a mix of admiration and relief in his expression. “Hell of a job, Hotch. You tore him apart. I’ve seen you work, but that was something else entirely.”

Hotch gave a tight nod, his jaw still clenched, but his gaze was already shifting past Peter, landing on you. His eyes were searching, almost like he was trying to gauge your reaction, seeking some unspoken acknowledgment from you. “Thanks,” he said, his voice measured but tinged with exhaustion. “It had to be done.”

You stood there with your arms crossed, leaning against the wall, trying to maintain a composed exterior, but inside, you were anything but calm. Watching Hotch in that room, ruthlessly tearing down the suspect’s defenses, stirred something deep within you. It was impressive, yes, but also unsettling. You had never seen him so relentless, so driven - and you knew exactly what was fueling his determination.

As Hotch’s gaze lingered on you, there was a silent understanding between you, a shared acknowledgment of the emotional battlefield you both were navigating. The words from your argument the night before still echoed in your mind, sharp and unresolved, like an open wound that hadn’t had the chance to heal. The case had forced you both to set your personal issues aside, but now, in the aftermath, they were still there, hovering between you like a shadow neither of you could ignore.

Peter glanced between the two of you, sensing the charged atmosphere but choosing not to comment. He knew better than to pry, but even he could tell that whatever was going on between you and Hotch went deeper than the usual tension of a difficult case. “We got what we needed,” Peter said, trying to break the silence. “That’s what matters. Now we can finally put this bastard away.”

Hotch nodded, but his eyes never left yours, and in that moment, it felt like the rest of the room had faded away. It was just the two of you, caught in a silent standoff where neither of you knew how to take the next step. You wanted to say something, anything that would bridge the gap that had formed between you, but the words caught in your throat, tangled with the emotions you’d been trying so hard to keep in check.

The triumph of the confession felt hollow against the weight of what was still left unsaid. You and Hotch had always been able to read each other, but now, standing on opposite sides of this unspoken rift, it was as if the connection you’d relied on had fractured. There was so much you wanted to ask him: why he’d pushed so hard, why he seemed so desperate to prove something today, and why he couldn’t let his guard down, even for a moment. But instead, you just nodded, swallowing back the questions that burned at the back of your throat. “You did what you had to do,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though it wavered slightly. “Good work, Hotch.”

Hotch’s gaze softened for a brief second, a flicker of regret or maybe gratitude crossing his features, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Thanks,” he replied, his voice lower, more personal than before. “We all did.”Peter’s presence was a reminder that you weren’t alone, but it didn’t ease the tension that thrummed between you and Hotch. As Hotch turned to leave, the weight of your argument still hung heavy, unresolved, and painful. You watched him go, the distance between you feeling wider than ever, despite being just a few feet apart.

And as you stood there, with Peter by your side and the echo of Hotch’s footsteps fading down the corridor, you realized that the hardest part of this case wasn’t just about catching a killer, it was about facing the fractures in your own relationships, the ones that no amount of profiling or interrogation could ever fix.

The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels against the tracks was a dull, constant noise that filled the otherwise quiet cabin. You sat alone, your head down and your pen moving steadily across the paper as you filled out your case report. It was a task you’d thrown yourself into, your way of avoiding the one thing you weren’t ready to confront: Hotch.

Hotch sat a few rows behind you, his back to you, mirroring your actions as he worked on his own report with a similar intensity. It was almost poetic how the two of you were so much alike: both of you throwing yourselves into your work to avoid the harder truths, and neither willing to make the first move toward reconciliation.

As you focused on your writing, you heard footsteps approach. You didn’t need to look up to know it was Peter; you’d recognized the casual confidence in his stride from a mile away. He slid into the seat beside you without asking, his presence a familiar and oddly comforting interruption.

Peter glanced at your half-filled report, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You never could sit still, could you?” he said, his voice soft but laced with a hint of fondness. “Always working, always thinking.”

You tried to muster a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just trying to get this done before we get back,” you said, your tone evasive. You knew why he’d come over, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the conversation you’d been avoiding since you’d seen him again.

Peter watched you for a moment, his expression shifting from casual to serious. He took a deep breath, glancing at the report before returning his gaze to you. “Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I’ve been wanting to tell you this since I got back, but I didn’t want to bring it up while we were in the middle of the case.”

You stiffened, knowing exactly what he was going to say but hoping he wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your dad’s funeral,” Peter said, his voice heavy with regret. “I wanted to be, but I was stuck overseas. I hate that I wasn’t there.”

You clenched your jaw, staring down at the paper in front of you, your pen hovering uselessly above the page. The memories of that day flooded backstanding at the grave, the heavy weight of loss pressing down on your chest, and the overwhelming feeling of being completely and utterly alone. You’d been surrounded by people, but none of them had truly understood, none of them had been him.

“It’s fine, Pete,” you said, though your voice was shaky. “You were doing your job. Besides, it’s not like it would’ve changed anything.”

Peter shook his head, frustration flickering in his eyes. “No, it’s not okay. You were always there for me, even when we were just kids trying to figure out what the hell we were doing with our lives. And I couldn’t even show up when you needed me the most.”

Peter studied you, his eyes searching yours. He could see the cracks you were trying so desperately to hide, the way you were holding yourself together with sheer willpower. “I should have been there,” he insisted gently. “I know how much you went through with him… I remember everything you told me about him.”

A knot formed in your throat as you thought back to your childhood, your father’s relentless work ethic, his unyielding drive for perfection. He had been your hero in so many ways, but he’d also been your downfall. You’d inherited his toxic trait of overworking yourself, the constant need to be better, to be more. It was how you’d coped with the chaos at home, the screaming matches between your parents that had been your daily soundtrack. Your mother, exasperated and exhausted, would often switch languages mid-argument to keep you in the dark, to protect you - or maybe just to exclude you - from the mess they had created.

“I was just a kid, you know?” you said quietly, your voice tinged with bitterness. “All I wanted was to understand why they were always fighting. I started learning every language my mom switched to, Italian, Spanish, anything that would give me a clue, but instead of finding answers, I just… found more reasons to stay away.”

Peter’s eyes softened, a flicker of pain crossing his features as he listened. “You drowned yourself in books, in knowledge, just to escape,” he said, his voice low. “I remember you telling me that once, how you’d sit in those lecture halls at the university, absorbing everything because it was better than being home.”

Your childhood had been filled their voices rising in heated exchanges that always seemed to end in silence, your father retreating to his study to bury himself in more work, and your mother seeking solace in her books. To escape the turbulence at home, you’d thrown yourself into your studies with a fervor that bordered on obsession. You’d devoured literature, philosophy, psychology, anything that could distract you from the reality of your parents’ failing marriage, to gain a semblance of control in a world that often felt chaotic and out of reach.

You had become fluent in the languages they used to hide their pain from you, and in doing so, you became fluent in the art of distancing yourself from your own emotions. The habit of overworking, of pouring yourself into every task with unrelenting focus, was something you had learned from your father, a toxic legacy that you couldn’t quite shake, even now. It had been the source of countless arguments with your mother, who had begged you not to follow in his footsteps, to find balance, to live a life that wasn’t dictated by the demands of work. But it was easier said than done, and as the years went on, you found yourself mirroring his habits more than you cared to admit.

You nodded, swallowing hard against the emotion that threatened to choke you. “I kept pushing myself, kept chasing after something I couldn’t even name. My dad… he always told me that hard work was the only thing that mattered, he never slowed down, never stopped, and neither did I. Even when their marriage fell apart… even when he got sick. I just… I couldn’t stop.”

You hesitated, your eyes welling up with tears that you refused to let fall. “I didn’t even cry at his funeral, I just stood there, feeling nothing. And I haven’t been to visit his grave since.”

Peter gently reached out, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder, tightly hugging you. “It’s okay not to be okay, Y/N,” he murmured. “You don’t have to carry this all on your own. The least I can do is be the shoulder you can lean on.” Peter squeezed your shoulder gently, his eyes filled with compassion. “Your dad was tough, but he loved you, Y/N. And you don’t have to prove anything to him, not anymore. You’re allowed to grieve, to feel lost, to not have all the answers.”

You nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. “I know. But sometimes it’s hard to remember that.”

Hotch sat just behind you, his back facing yours, he had intended to keep to himself, to give you the space you needed, but the quiet murmurs of your conversation had carried over. He couldn’t help but overhear Peter’s words, and as he listened, a wave of guilt and realization washed over him.

Hotch had always prided himself on his ability to read people, to see through the masks they wore, but he hadn’t seen through yours. He hadn’t seen the pain you’d been hiding, the grief that had been eating away at you just beneath a slim surface. And suddenly, your words from the night before came crashing back: how he didn’t know you, how he’d never bothered to look beyond the professional facade you’d built.

His own mind flickered back to his childhood, the memories of his father’s anger, the violence that lurked behind every door. Hotch had spent years burying and hiding those scars, never letting anyone see how deeply they ran. He had kept it all locked away, just as you had, believing that the only way to survive was to keep moving, to never let the pain catch up.

For the first time, Hotch truly understood why you had lashed out at him. You had seen in him the very thing you feared in yourself: the relentless drive to work, to control, to avoid facing the hurt that lingered beneath. He realized now that you were so much more alike than he had ever imagined, both of you haunted by the ghosts of your pasts, both trying to outrun the pain that always seemed to catch up.

As Hotch stared out the window at the passing scenery, he felt a deep sense of remorse. He wished he had known, wished he had been able to offer you the support you so clearly needed. But all he could do now was hope that you would one day trust him enough to let him in, to share the burdens you had been carrying alone for far too long.

Peter’s voice broke the silence, pulling Hotch from his thoughts. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, you know that? But it’s okay to let someone else be strong for you, too.”

You nodded, wiping away the tears that had finally escaped. “Thanks, Pete. It’s just… it’s hard.”

“I know,” Peter said softly. “But you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Hotch listened to the quiet exchange, the raw honesty between you and Peter striking a chord deep within him. He knew now that he couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine, that the walls he had built were enough to protect him or you. As the train sped toward Quantico, Hotch made a silent promise to himself: he would do better, he would be better. For you, and for himself.

Because in the end, you both deserved more than just the comfort of solitude. You deserved to be understood, to be seen, and to finally let go of the burdens you had carried for far too long.

Peter on the other hand had always been the kind of friend who could read you like a book, even when you tried to keep the pages closed. And after this emotional confrontation he knew he didn’t have to push further. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, the way you were holding yourself together by the thinnest thread. So, he did what he always did best, he tried to lift your spirits, if only for a moment.

He leaned back in his seat, studying your expression with a knowing smile. “You know, Y/N, you don’t have to unload everything on me right now. You’re allowed to keep some things to yourself. You don’t owe anyone your pain.” His tone was light, but there was a deep, unspoken understanding beneath it. He knew you were struggling, and he wanted you to know that it was okay to take your time.

You gave him a small, tired smile, grateful for his patience. “I know, Pete. It’s just... hard to talk about. I’ve been so focused on work, it’s easier that way. It’s all I know.”

Peter nodded, his eyes softening with empathy. “I get it. But maybe it’s time to leave work behind, just for a little while. You don’t have to think about everything right now. Start small. Maybe try coming out of your room every once in a while?” He said it with a teasing grin, nudging your shoulder playfully, hoping to coax even the smallest laugh out of you.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at his attempt to lighten the mood. “I know, I’ve been a bit of a hermit lately. I guess it’s easier to just shut myself away.”

Peter’s smile widened, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, lucky for you, your presence is strictly required at my welcome-back party tonight. The team’s putting it together, and you have no excuses not to come. I already told them you’d be there.”

You groaned, though there was no real annoyance behind it. “Seriously? Peter, I don’t know if I’m up for-”

He cut you off, holding up a hand. “Ah-ah, no excuses. We’ll be back by early afternoon, you’ll have plenty of time to rest, take a shower, and then you’re going to show up and have a good time, even if I have to drag you there myself.”

You rolled your eyes, but his enthusiasm was infectious. There was a warmth in his insistence, a reminder that you weren’t alone and that there was still joy to be found, even in the smallest of moments. “Fine, fine. I’ll be there. But only because you’re the most obnoxiously persistent person I know.”

Peter laughed, giving you a mock bow from his seat. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously, Y/N, it’ll be good to see you outside of the office for once. We all miss you, and I promise, you’ll be glad you came.”

You nodded, feeling a small flicker of anticipation amidst the exhaustion. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to look forward to something that wasn’t work, something that didn’t involve endless reports or painful memories. It wasn’t a solution to all your problems, but it was a start—a chance to reconnect with the people who mattered, to take a breath and remember that there was more to life than the shadows that had been chasing you.

As you looked at Peter, his familiar smile reminding you of all the good things you’d shared over the years, you felt a small surge of hope. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The train ride back to Quantico had felt endless, but the weight of the unresolved emotions made the journey back to your apartment even more suffocating. Peter’s words lingered, tugging at wounds you hadn’t dared to touch, and Hotch’s distant presence weighed heavily on your mind. The familiar solitude of your apartment was supposed to be comforting, but tonight, it felt more like a reminder of all the things you’d been running from: your grief, your past, and the fragile, fraying connection with the person who had come to mean so much to you.

You dropped your bag onto the floor, letting it fall with a thud that echoed through the empty space. You leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling the cool surface against your palms as you tried to ground yourself. You wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. It was as if you’d locked them away, buried them beneath layers of duty and distraction.

But then there was a knock at your door, soft and tentative, almost like the person on the other side wasn’t sure they should be there. You hesitated, wiping at your eyes quickly as if to compose yourself, and moved to answer. You half-expected to find Peter, still worried about you after the train ride, or maybe even no one at all, just a mistake. But when you opened the door, it was Hotch who stood before you.

He looked different, more vulnerable and uncertain than you had ever seen him. His usually composed demeanor was frayed, and there was a rawness in his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and heavy burdens. He stood there awkwardly, clutching the doorframe as if it were the only thing keeping him upright, his face etched with a mixture of hesitation and determination.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you like a fragile thread, one wrong move away from snapping. Hotch looked down, swallowing hard as if searching for the right words. He wasn’t in his usual pristine suit but rather dressed in a simple shirt and jeans, his attire as out of place as the uncertainty written across his face.

“Hotch?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, tinged with both surprise and concern. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just looked at you, as if he was struggling to find the right words, struggling to let down the walls he had spent a lifetime building. He stepped inside, and you quietly closed the door behind him, your heart pounding as you waited for him to speak. He took a few slow steps into the living room, glancing around as if trying to ground himself in the unfamiliar space.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice strained and brittle, every word heavy with unspoken pain. “I know this isn’t… I shouldn’t have just shown up like this, but I needed to talk to you. About… about what you said last night, and today on the train. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation with Peter.”

This wasn’t the composed, confident man you knew at work, this was Aaron, someone you never got to see, someone who was barely holding it together. “ You were right, Y/N. You were right about everything.”

You stood there, frozen, as his words hit you like a wave. You had never heard Hotch sound so vulnerable, so broken. He was always the strong one, the unshakable agent who never let his guard down, but tonight, he was just Aaron, and he was struggling.

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep things separate,” he began, his voice trembling. “I thought if I could just focus on the work, I could ignore everything else—everything that hurt, everything that felt out of my control. But I can’t keep doing that. It’s not who I am, and it’s not who I want to be anymore.”

Hotch’s hands shook as he tried to steady himself, his eyes brimming with emotions he had kept buried for so long. “My father... he was abusive. He was cruel in ways that I can’t even put into words. He’d tear me apart with his words, his fists, anything to remind me that I was never good enough. I grew up in a house that felt more like a battlefield than a home, where silence was never safe and every day was just another fight to survive.”

His voice cracked, and you could see the weight of those memories in his eyes: the fear, the shame, the endless need to be perfect because nothing less would ever be enough for a man who thrived on control. “I tried so hard to protect my mom, my brother, but I was just a kid. There were nights when I’d lie awake, praying he’d leave us alone, praying I’d be strong enough to make it stop. But it never did. And I swore that when I grew up, I’d never be like him. I’d never let anyone see that weakness.”

You listened, your own tears finally breaking free as his pain washed over you. You had never imagined Hotch’s past had been so brutal, so deeply scarred by violence and fear. He had always seemed so put together, so composed, but now, you could see just how much he had been hiding, how much he had been carrying all this time.

“I thought if I kept that part of myself locked away, I’d be able to move on. I thought… I thought if I became Hotch, the profiler, that it would erase all the things he said I’d never be. But it’s just made me more closed off, more afraid to let anyone in. And I’ve been doing it for so long, I don’t even know how to stop.”

He looked at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, and you could see the desperation there - the plea for understanding, for forgiveness, for something he couldn’t quite name. “I don’t know how to let people in, Y/N. I don’t know how to not be this… this guarded version of myself. But if I’m going to try, if I’m going to let anyone see me, I want it to be you. Because you were right when you said I don’t know you, but I want to. And you deserve to know me, too—the real me.”

The vulnerability in his voice shattered something inside you, and without thinking, you closed the distance between you and pulled him into a tight, desperate hug. Hotch tensed at first, unaccustomed to such unguarded intimacy, but then his arms wrapped around you, and you could feel him finally letting go. His head bowed against your shoulder, and his entire frame shook with the silent sobs he’d been holding back for too long.

You clung to him, your own tears mingling with his, and in that moment, it felt like the dam you’d both been holding back had finally broken. You were no longer the stoic agents who always had the answers, always kept it together. You were just two people, scarred and hurting, trying to find solace in the only way you knew how: by holding on to each other.

Hotch’s hand moved to the back of your head, his fingers tangling gently in your hair as he held you closer, as if you were the lifeline he had been searching for. He whispered apologies between his tears, his voice cracking with the weight of his regrets. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I didn’t see it. I didn’t see you.”

You shook your head, burying your face into his neck, your tears soaking through his t-shirt as you let out all the grief you’d kept buried: the loss of your father, the unresolved pain of your parents’ broken marriage, the way you had thrown yourself into work to keep from falling apart. You had been running for so long, hiding behind your accomplishments, just like him.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry, Aaron,” you whispered through your tears, the use of his first name slipping out naturally in this moment of raw honesty. “I had no idea. I was so angry, and I—”

He shook his head, his voice soft but firm as he whispered back, “You don’t have to apologize. You were right… about all of it. I needed to hear it. I needed to face it.”

The two of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped up in each other’s pain and understanding, the weight of your shared burdens finally feeling just a little bit lighter. There were no perfect words, no easy fixes, but in that embrace, you found something neither of you had expected—comfort, solace, and the beginning of a new kind of trust.

“It’s okay,” you whispered through your tears, clutching him tighter. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

For the first time, it felt like you were truly seen, truly understood, and the relief of it was overwhelming. You didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to be strong or perfect or put together. You could just be, and he could just be, and that was enough.

Hotch pulled back slightly, your eyes finally met, both of you still teary but no longer hiding. There was a silent understanding there, a promise that from now on, things would be different. “No more walls. No more hiding.” He murmured, his voice shaky but filled with a quiet determination.

You nodded, and for the first time in a long time, you believed it. You didn’t know what the future would hold, but as you held each other in that quiet, tear-stained moment, you knew that you weren’t alone anymore. You had each other, and that was a start. It was messy, and it was painful, but it was real. And in that, you found hope - hope that maybe, together, you could begin to heal. You weren’t just partners in the professional sense anymore; you were something more—two people learning to let each other in, to lean on each other’s strength when your own wasn’t enough. And in that simple, fragile moment, you both knew that whatever came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone, that your new friend would be right there at your side.

The evening had settled over the city, and the Irish pub next to your apartment block was buzzing with energy. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel a glimmer of lightness, excitement bubbling at the thought of spending time with Hotch, Peter, and the rest of your colleagues from the BAU. After everything that had happened, the weight of unresolved emotions had eased, if only slightly, and you found yourself looking forward to reconnecting with your team outside the pressures of the job.

Earlier that afternoon, you’d stopped by a bookstore, the small shop tucked between a row of cafes and boutique stores you often passed but rarely visited. As you browsed the shelves, your eyes fell on a book titled "Hegel for Dummies." It was a perfect, lighthearted gesture, a small symbol of your newfound friendship with Hotch, and a callback to the night you’d spent poring over Frank Lloyd Wright’s designs at the library. You thought that maybe, after his recent dive into architecture, he might take an interest in philosophy too, especially Hegel, one of your favorites. The book felt like a tiny olive branch, a way of letting him into your world a little more, just as he had let you into his the night before.

You imagined him reading it, piecing together Hegel’s ideas on thesis, antithesis, and synthesis, and maybe learning something about you in the process. And who knew? Maybe one day, if you were lucky, he’d hand you one of his favorite books, offering you another glimpse into the parts of himself he rarely showed.

When you walked into the pub, the warm light and chatter were an immediate comfort. You spotted your team at a long wooden table near the back, and to your surprise, you saw Gideon sitting there, crutches leaned against the wall, his leg injury having kept him out of the latest case. Rossi was beside him, the two of them looking as inseparable as ever, trading stories and laughs over pints of beer. It was a sight that immediately lifted your spirits.

“Look who finally made it!” Rossi called out, waving you over. “Come on, we saved you a seat.”

You grinned, making your way through the crowd. “Rossi, Gideon, you two didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

Gideon leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, you didn’t think we’d miss the party, did you? Besides, someone has to make sure Peter doesn’t get too full of himself.”

Peter shot you a wink, raising his glass in greeting. “They’re just here to bask in my glory, Y/N. But don’t let them fool you, they’ve been talking about you all night.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you took a seat between Gideon and Peter. “I’m sure they have. So, what did I miss?”

Before anyone could answer, Hotch walked in, his presence as commanding as ever, though there was a new softness in his eyes when he spotted you. You exchanged a smile, a silent acknowledgment of the night before, and of the steps you were both taking toward something new, something vulnerable.

“Hotch!” Rossi greeted, patting the empty seat beside him. “Come sit, we’re debating where Peter’s new desk should be. Since Y/N’s parked herself at his old one, we might need to reshuffle the whole bullpen.”

Hotch took his seat, glancing at you with a teasing smile. “I think she’s gotten too comfortable. I doubt she’s giving it up.”

Peter leaned in closer to you, his voice low and conspiratorial whispering into your ear “Wanna make a bet?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “See that woman behind Hotch’s shoulder? If she doesn’t come talk to him, you get to keep your desk.”

You eyed the woman briefly, noticing her casual yet elegant demeanor, but she seemed engrossed in her own conversation. Hotch was engaged in a discussion with Rossi, showing no sign of noticing her. You were confident this would be an easy win, especially given Hotch’s typically reserved nature. “Alright,” you said, turning back to Peter. “And what do you get if you win?”

Peter’s grin widened, the playful edge in his voice unmistakable. “A date. With you.”

The unexpected proposition caught you off guard, and for a moment, you felt your cheeks warm. You glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was serious, but his expression remained light, teasing. You brushed it off with a laugh, pretending he was just messing with you. “Okay, you’re on.”

But no sooner had you accepted the bet than the woman, as if she had somehow overheard your conversation, moved toward Hotch with an expression of surprise. You watched in stunned silence as she approached, her voice soft and familiar. “Aaron? What were the odds?”

Your heart sank as Hotch’s face lit up, a rare and genuine smile crossing his features, his cheeks flushed slightly, and there was a familiarity between them that made your chest tighten. You felt Peter nudge you, his voice breaking through the shock. “Looks like you owe me a date.”

You barely registered his words, too fixated on the interaction unfolding in front of you. Hotch returned to the table with the woman by his side, her presence seeming to fill the room in a way that made you feel suddenly small and out of place. Hotch’s voice cut through the noise, introducing her with a casualness that belied the weight of the moment. “Everyone, this is Haley.”

You barely managed to hold your composure, the pieces of this unexpected puzzle falling into place as you processed Hotch’s flushed expression and the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. This wasn’t just anyone, this was someone from his past, someone who clearly was very close and definitely had shared some sort of romantic history with him. The bitter thoughts stung more than you wanted to admit.

Before you could say anything, Gideon, ever the observant one, leaned over, catching sight of the corner of a book sticking out of your open purse. “Hegel for Dummies?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, amusement flickering in his voice as he picked it up to inspect.

You nodded, still too stunned to fully engage, your mind elsewhere. “Yeah. It’s… it’s just a little joke,” you managed, though the words felt hollow in the moment.

Gideon smiled knowingly, his eyes shifting between you and Hotch. “Thesis, antithesis, and synthesis,” he mused, almost as if he were speaking to himself but loud enough for you to hear. “Funny how life always seems to come back to that, doesn’t it?”

The words hung heavy in the air, and as you sat there, watching Hotch interact with Haley, you couldn’t help but feel the truth in them. Life was messy, a constant push and pull of opposing forces, and you were caught in the middle of it, trying to make sense of what it all meant.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of soft One Direction fics with omega Harry as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🌸 Little by Little by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

(E, 65k, o/o) Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. 

🌸 You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(E, 38k, farm) Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha. But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire.

🌸 dream about a summer night by fearsparks / @onlythebravest

(T, 33k, summer camp) Working alongside each other as camp counsellors, Harry and Louis grow closer than they’ve ever been before. That’s not a problem, but now they have these newfound feelings for each other to deal with.

🌸 findin' pieces that can fit by lsforever / @kingonafiftymetreroad

(E, 31k, o/o) an Omega/Omega Established Relationship AU where they’re figuring it out as they go along. There’s a road trip in there, lots of cuddling, some cats and dogs, and, of course, the best first time Harry could ever ask for.

🌸 Is it a sign? by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

(E, 25k, deaf Harry)  the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister's wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn't have to be the only means of communication.

🌸 love so soft, you ain’t had nothing softer (series) by @neondiamond

(E, 15k, strangers to lovers) Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.

🌸 Stars Will Align For Us by @2tiedships2

(NR, 15k, pining) the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis...especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.

🌸 balance between you and me by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings

(T, 15k, coworkers) As a successful businessman, Louis is used to the long hours, never-ending work, and constant exhaustion. What hits the hardest, even though he'd never admit it, is the empty apartment he comes home to every day.

🌸 Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 12k, neighbors) Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

🌸 I Can't Hear You by kikikryslee / @flamboyantommo

(E, 9k, established relationship)  the one where Harry is self-conscious about his body because it's not the 'typical omega body' and Louis shows him why he loves that.

🌸 you give me feelings that i adore by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 7k, uni) 5 times Louis scents Harry's things and the 1 time Harry returns the gesture.

🌸 Court Wine by @enchantedlandcoffee , red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 7k, friends to lovers) after a misunderstanding during a scrabble game, Alpha Louis starts courting Omega Harry without the latter being aware of it.

🌸 All at once, this is enough by @lunarheslwt

(G, 7k, o/o) Harry, overcome with burn out, wants to nest but he has never nested before, doesn’t know how to. Louis, his best friend, is only happy to help him make a nest and be there for him. Along the way, they find something more.

🌸 young hearts on the chase by homemotif / @polaroidlouis

(G, 7k, meet cute) harry’s a hopeless romantic, louis’ oblivious, and it’s going to be Valentine’s Day.

🌸 I Want You to Linger by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 6k, friends to lovers) A friends-to-lovers fic in which oblivious alpha Louis courts his best friend, nests with the gifts he gets him, and is faced with the reality that sometimes telling someone you love them doesn’t go to plan (but turns out better in the end anyway).

🌸 As one we are everything/We are everything we need by louloubaby92 / @louloubabys1992

(M, 5k, established relationship) Harry finally marries the love of his life. He's got the mating mark, he's got Louis' ring on his finger.

🌸 In the Heat Where You Lay by @marchessa

(T, 5k, mpreg) the one where Louis tries to balance work life and his marriage while he also has to protect Harry from himself since the omega is danger walking on two marvellously long legs at the best of times.

🌸 Oh Christmas Three by @tommokat

(M, 1k, mpreg) A birthday surprise goes awry. Louis doesn’t understand. Harry blames the oven.

- Rare Pairs -

🌸 in the hope of open hands (series) by @justanothershadeofblue

(T, 21k, OT5) Five times the pack is protective of omega Harry, and one time Harry protects them. Featuring Louis and Liam as alphas, Zayn and Niall as betas, and Harry’s as the band's lone omega.

🌸 That Don't Define Who You Are by @lululawrence

(NR, 7k, Harry/Louis/Nick Grimshaw)  the one where Harry is a licking omega with a broken bond who helps heal a fairly hapless beta with a folding bicycle. When Harry also meets the beta's alpha, things start to get... interesting.

[the-grubdog]

Heritage Theory is Canon

I rise back from the dead (read: college kicking my ass) to say that MY THEORY WAS JUST CONFIRMED CANON. Look at the Japanese website:

Image transcript: The ruins and treasures of this planet, although different in size, are somehow similar to those we know, and sometimes even feel nostalgic. According to "The Shepard Complete History" written by the successive rescue team captains, the ancestors of the Kagiya [Giya] planet came from a "beautiful blue planet". If that was the planet PNF-404, we may have returned to our mother planet after a long time.

I WAS LITERALLY WORKING ON AN UPDATED VERSION OF MY THEORY POST WHEN THIS WAS POSTED.

I WAS RIGHT YA'LL.

I don't think I'll upload that updated version of the post, as it is (a) mostly unfinished and (b) kinda pointless now! Just know that evidence also comes from (all in Pikmin 4/related material):

Other parts of this same site

Olimar's notes on the Buddy Display, Heroic Shield, and Memory Fragment (Center Right)

A conversation you can have with Olimar post-final boss fight

Olimar's notes on the final boss

The Shepherd Family history

Also I want to share some more lore this site brings up. Because it also gives us some juicy Wraith Lore(tm) and some possible explanations for why some ships crash and others don't.

ALSO ALSO: This is all machine translated. If anyone has a human translated version, or is interested in making one, PLEASE let me know so I can reference it instead!

Image transcript: Consideration 1, small size, it doesn't have the engine power to escape the planet. Consideration 2, entering at a high speed, like a shooting star, it crashed into the planet at high speed.

Basically, the S.S. Beagle is small and entered at a high enough speed to escape the planet's grasp.

Image transcript: Unlike the space-time of the universe we know, it is believed that each time the stranded person observes the planet, it transitions to a different phase. The changes are so great that it's as if the planet itself has a will of its own.

This comes after a long description of how the planet changes every game. Just for further context.

Image transcript (with an error fixed for readability): Pikmin are always found near those lost in distress. They are friendly and devoted partners who cooperate with us to achieve our goals. However, isn't this a little too convenient? If the Pikmin are calling for a good leader to ensure the survival of their species and are preventing us from returning, it would be better to think that we are the ones being used. It falls into this category.

I don't think pikmin are evil, FAR from it... but they are still animals, animals that act to survive. You know? If pikmin ARE crashing the ships, then it's no more evil then how bulborbs eat pikmin to survive. Those are my two cents anyways.

Image transcript: According to Olimar, while inside the Amenyudo's [Plasm Wraith's] body, he dreamed of "giant humans similar to ourselves living with Pikmin and lots of other creatures." In addition, the roller-shaped stones of the Amebouzu [Water Wraith] have been found to contain minerals found in meteorites, which may suggest that they may be involved in the crash of the Dolphin. Perhaps they are dreaming of living with humans again and are causing the spaceship to crash?

WRAITH LORE. Also, note the translation of "human". There's a word on the site that the characters use to refer to themselves collectively, which the machine translator translates as "human". Based on me looking the word up on Jisho, an English-Japanese dictionary, this appears to be correct. However, as I don't know Japanese yet, I'll also clarify that "people" might also be a valid translation.

Anyways. Humans once lived with these weird creatures, wraiths and pikmin included. The wraiths missed us. Please ignore how they're also homicidal towards the starfolk.

Image transcript: One theory is that the planet meets the definition of a living organism, meaning that it is somehow beckoning us to it, and that everything we experience here is being orchestrated.

Planet is alive.

I have no idea how else to end this off.

But the planet is alive.

And it wants us back.

[nebbyy]

A list of my most unpopular ASOIAF opinions and theories

Please remember this is all based on the books alone, and there also might be SPOILERS for Fire and Blood and the Game of Thrones book series.

ALSO I might open the requests for Game of Thrones fics and headcanons, and maybe for Baldur's Gate as well once I get back into it.

Okayyy so here we gooo.

1. Maegor's story doesn't add up

Don't get me wrong, he must've obviously been a horrible king and a shitty husband, but reading the chapters that talk about him in Blood and Fire, it all just felt like a list of rumours and versions of all nefarious crimes he would've committed. There are about five versions of whatever he did with each wife of his, each of them more depraved than the one before.

Again, I don't think he was an angel or anything, but my theory is that his history was written by biased sources. His reign was made illicit by Jaehaerys, so it would've been in his best interest to have him remembered as nothing more than a viscious monster.

It's a form of "damnatio memoriae" that we've already seen, in a way, with Mushroom and the Dance of Dragons. When in a conflict, and especially after a victory, each side wants to depict the side they beat as badly as possible Caesar did a similar thing in "De Bello Gallico", the book about his conquest of the modern French and Swiss territories. In this book he excuses his conquest with the supposed preparations for an attack by the Helvetians, a fact that was proven to be misinterpreted as it was a mere pacific migration. And again, he did the same thing when he accused them of cannibalising each other while being under siege, another untrue fact made up to just make them seem worse.

So in a way, Maegor's reputation could've been made worse by following historians to legitimate Jaehaerys' reign over Aerea's claim.

2. Incest has no effects on Valyrians

Okay, this is a bit weirder. My theory is that Valyrians practised incest because it had no effect on their offspring.

Looking at the Targaryen family tree, I noticed that the cases of madness increase the more Targaryens marry with other houses. Baelor the Blessed was the first mad Targaryen, and he had a grandmother of house Harte and a great grandmother who was half Arryn.

Before Baelor, Helaena is questionably considered mad as well, which would prove my theory furthermore had it not been for the amount of trauma she endured in her life so I'm honestly not gonna count her as "mad". Rhaegel Rargaryen was the second confirmed mad Targaryen, with a Martell mother; his daughter Aelora is questionably considered mad too, and her mother is an Arryn.

Aerion Brightflame was another mad Targaryen, with a half Martell father and a Dayne mother. The last two mad Targaryens were Aerys II and Viserys III, but at this point, the bloodline was mixed with others enough to make the Targaryen madness an unpredictable factor.

So I think we could theorise that Valyrians can perform incest so long as it remains within pure Valyrian blood.

3. There is no good or bad in the Dance of Dragons

Rhaenyra had a claim on the throne because of Viserys' will, but Aegon had a claim on the throne because of the laws of Westeros themselves. You can argue that Alicent wasn't the nicest stepmother, yet you can't look me in the face and tell me a woman in the middle ages married to a KING to whom she had given THREE SONS wouldn't complain when the king dismisses all of them and their claims in favor of his firstborn daughter.

Otto may have manipulated Alicent, but that was just how a Lord was supposed to act in that situation: have her marry the best candidate (the king), have her birth at least a son (she did) and make sure those children are first in line for the throne (as it should be, by the laws).

Viserys shouldn't have remarried if he already had his heir, period.

At the same time, Rhaenyra had every reason to fight for her claim and try and go against the actual laws of Westeros, but it was inevitable that many would've seen badly her attempt at claiming what was Aegon's birthright.

Lucerys was an asshole for mutilating Aemond and never showed remorse, quite the opposite. Aemond was an asshole who shouldn't have had all the power he had, plus I hardly believe his and Alys relationship was really consensual so there's that..

In the end, they all had their rights and wrongs, but that doesn't matter at all. The only point about the Dance is the fact that a pointless conflict led to the downfall of one of the strongest families in Westeros history.

4. Rhaegar didn't love Lyanna

I hate the series for making them marry. Like, seriously, have D&D ever read the books? Have they not read what happened between Maegor and the Faith when he took another wife??

Never, not even in the most twisted of universes, would the faith let Rhaegar kidnap and marry a Stark girl while he was still married to Elia. That just wouldn't be plausible.

And I also don't think he'd just fall in love at first sight with a random girl at a tournament. She was a beautiful soul and had many qualities, but she had nothing that could truly make a man throw away his whole life to pursue her.

He needed another child. The dragon has three heads. He had Rhaenys and Aegon, but Visenya was missing (I just made up the name for the third possible child considering he was naming them after the three conquerors lmao). He needed Lyanna to have that third child, and he knew how to get her to get what he wanted.

Perhaps we'll find out this isn't true. Perhaps Rhaegar really was head over heels for Lyanna, but I honestly really really doubt it.

5. There is no certainty on who the Prince that was Promised is

No matter what the show wants us to see, we still don't know who it is. It could be Daenerys, it could be Jon, it could even be Stannis and we're not gonna know it until Martin reveals it.

I honestly think Daenerys is Azor Ahai, but I'm still curious to see why we would need to revive Jon then. And considering Stannis' sword possibly being Azor Ahai's sword, is it a fake one made by Melisandre to get what she wanted from him, or does he actually possess the original sword?

Well, these are the first theories and opinions I could think of right now, I might post more in the future. Again, please don't slander me in the comments, these are just my personal opinions and I respect all others.

[subby-succubus]

Imagine you're sitting in my lap and I'm giving you pills from an unlabeled bottle. Little capsules, all different colors, almost like candy. You keep taking them like a good little whore, sucking my fingers each time. You have no idea what they are, and you don't care. You'd do anything you were told to do AND you'd probably take a pill you found on the ground. There was no way this could ever be your limit.

Your head is spinning a little already. The lights are brighter than they should be. You can mostly think clearly. Well, you THINK you're thinking clearly. Oh, it's time for the next pill! How many is that? Has to be more than five, couldn't be more than, um... Twenty? You think maybe they're starting to really kick in now. Every sense is pulsing, growing and receding in intensity. You try to say something, but it slips out of your mouth and turns into a few happy syllables. "I know, Angel. Here, one more."

I ask what you want to do. You giggle and turn and slip to the floor. You reach for my belt and fumble at the buckle. I smile at you as I undo it and strip off my pants. "Of course we can."

Your mouth isn't so much opened for me as it is hanging limp, but it's warm and wet all the same. I take hold of your hair and push inside your throat. I'm having to do all the work, but you seem happy enough. You're not blacking out just yet, but it can't be far away. You moan and fumble at your own tits and pretend to help me fuck you, but you're getting limper with every passing second.

I figure I'm ready to move on. You figure you're ready to go to sleep. We can both have what we want, really. I strip off what little you're wearing, and the last thing you feel as you drift away is the head of my cock starting to enter your...

Imagine you're waking up, right where you went to sleep. How long has it been? You're still naked. I'm still there. I have one hand on your cheek and the other jerking my cock, slowly. When I see your eyes flutter open, I speed up. You try to say something. Try.

I take my hand off my cock to grab the pill bottle. I shake three of them into your hand. "Go ahead."

You take them, of course. Then I throw back the rest of the bottle into my mouth and swallow them all.

You're shocked. I'm laughing. My hand is back on my cock, making myself cum on your face. "It was a joke, silly slut. They're all placebos!" I smear my load across your face, let you down gently to a lying position. I wipe my cock on your clothes, throw them on top of you, and walk away.

Now imagine that before starting our little game tonight, I took the placebo bottle and put two dozen real pills on top of it. You swallowed them all. What were they? You don't know. I've already forgotten. Who gives a shit anyway. What matters is I drugged you into unconsciousness, did God knows what with your body, and then convinced you that you were sober the whole time. Isn't that hilarious?

- Sinister

Wow. Wow wow wow. Yes please.

I'd just keep taking anything you gave me. I'd want to be a good girl for you after all. Each pill making me more and more needy. Each time I think less and less about the consequences by replacing those thoughts with how badly I want to be obedient. I mean, I can't say no. How could I? I want so badly to please you. Wanting to pleasure you with my mouth. Wanting more, but feeling too sleepy. I fall asleep for you to do whatever you want to my little, weak body.

I wake up feeling hot and used. Not sure what happened to me. Not sure what is currently happening. Not fully understanding how I could be like that with placebos. But if you say so, it must be true. After all, you wouldn't lie to me. It's my fault for being such a dumb slut. It's my fault for being so easy.

It would just make our game so much harder for me to win. Just like it should be.

[divorcedyaoi]

I do Not understand the appeal of supermassive games’s library. not to be a hater but like how have these games sold well enough that they’ve made as many as they had

[puppyeared]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[liquidchocolatecake]

currently captive audience to a knock down drag out fight in my brain between desire to respect the wishes of the creator and not look for anyone redistributing the comic and god i fucking miss wonderlab i miss wonderlab so much you have no idea i want wonderlab back so bad

[theygender]

I've got too many games I want to play and not enough free time 😭 I still need to finish my BG3 playthrough but since Endless Ocean: Luminous came out I've been playing a lot of that instead. Also just got back into Wizard101 last night. Started playing House Flipper again last weekend. Still need to finish BOTW so I can start a TOTK playthrough and finish Pokemon Shield so I can start on Pokemon Violet. I've been fighting off the urge to start up a new Skyrim playthrough for weeks. My brother just told me that Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door is getting ported to the Switch. And now I'm suddenly feeling inspired to replay DAI... And throughout all of this I'm also playing the hell out of DragonVale on my phone. Someone just pay me to play video games all day please

[steakout-05]

for months now i have had this little story idea bouncing around in my head for an AU of Jetpack Joyride where Barry is stuck inside a big expermental time loop conducted by Legitimate Research to create an army of randomly selected time-travelling soldiers. the idea is very much still rough and i dunno if and when i'll develop it into a bigger thing, but it's a pretty cool idea and it's a twist on the JJ game that i've never really seen much exploration on.

basically, it focuses on Barry, who is the sort of Patient Zero of an experimental concentrated time-fuckery technology LR is working on. every single day, at exactly the same time, Barry goes out to work his salesman job, discovers the jetpack, breaks into the laboratory, takes it for a joyride, eventually gets hit by an obstacle and dies. the next day, Barry goes out to work his salesman job, discovers the jetpack, breaks into the lab, takes it for a joyride and dies. and he does the same exact thing the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day... he's pretty much stuck in a loop of the exact same events happening repeatedly every single day, and he has absolutely no idea about it. that is, until there's a glitch in the system, and Barry progressively becomes a lot more suspicious and paranoid about the situation he's in. the rest of this post is gonna be REALLY spoilery (like i literally just explain big important chunks of the story for several paragraphs) if i ever make this into a full-fledged fanfic, so i'm gonna put it under a keep reading thingy. also it is... quite long and convoluted lol.

as the story goes on, it focuses more on the mental degredation of Barry as he starts uncovering all these weird clues, slowly trying to piece together what's going on and driving himself insane, because every time a reset occurs, his memory of the previous loop ever happening is completely wiped and everything he did that day goes all the way back to square one. since the malfunctioning of LR's technology though, Barry has been getting little nuggets of deja vu and half-remembered fragments of dying before a reset. this eventually becomes him repeating things to himself, little phrases and codes over and over and over in hopes that it will persist into the next reset. this eventually becomes symbols stuck up on the walls of his room and then progresses to entire rituals to help him remember and little behaviourisms like tics and stims to let him know he's in another loop. he becomes more and more panicked and unsettled, paranoid that someone - or something - is watching him closely. additionally, he keeps having disturbing dreams in the early hours of the morning before he gets up to go to work, ones that are symbolic and prophetic, as if they're trying to warn him about something. i've had concepts of him waking up on top of a pile of millions of mangled carcasses that all look exactly like Barry, and having on them them forcefully grab onto his leg and pull him down with the rest of them. it's kinda like the nightmare Woody has in Toy Story 2, but like, dead guys everywhere, lol.

the backstory of this whole thing is kinda insane. basically, Legitimate Research is a sketchy government funded facility that's doing secret time experiments to create the strongest beings for a purpose that's somewhat similar to Brains' Zomb Bomb plan from AOZ (i haven't fully decided yet). Barry is someone who has been randomly selected for their newest version of the concentrated time loop experiment, where patients will be put under looping tests to extract data about their strength, agility and performance and decide what they need to supplement them with in order to create the perfect soldier.

Barry was 22 years old when he was selected. he was actually a relatively normal local Fish N' Chips vendor living in New South Wales, but one day, when he recieved an exciting letter in the mail about a new ambitious job opportunity, he completely disappeared without a trace and seemed to have been entirely erased from the minds of everyone he had ever known. Barry had actually been kidnapped and ensnared into a mind-experiments facility of the laboratory, where they proceeded to wipe his mind, proof of his existence and his entire personhood up to this point, and replaced all of it with fake memories to fill in the gaps. he was then placed in stasis and to be injected with high doses of strength drugs as they crafted a new life for him behind the scenes. a new house, in a new state, all with new stories and memorabilia meant to be lived out by new person. now, he was Barry Steakfries in Queensland, a rough-around-the-edges guy with a passion for action movies and destruction. he was a revel with a thirst for chaos and freedom, but he just didn't have the means to achieve it yet. it was all according to plan.

a big part of the story i want to tell that involves him is that at some point, Barry tries to break free from the time loop by doing something different. this takes a lot of pre-planning, memory rituals and repeating details to himself, but after he wakes up from a reset and gets out of bed, he hesitates, choosing to go to a different place to sell his gramophones that day. he deliberately tries his best to avoid Legitimate Research's headquarters as much as he can, and while he doesn't completely remember why he's doing it, he has a deep gut feeling that he should stay away from them at all costs. so he does. and at first, it goes well. the day is different, his choices seem to actually matter and for once, the feeling of deja vu isn't tearing him apart... until a crazy freak accident happens that forces Barry to die and reset the time loop again, wiping away everything he had done that day. Legitimate Research is now forcefully trying to stop him from knowing what the hell is going on by forcing him to die with each now discovery he makes, and Barry has to figure out more and more creative solutions to averting their surveillance and trying to get the hell out of the loop.

Craig will also be involved with the story too!! i'm not exactly sure what exactly the events leading up to Barry discovering and meeting him would be, but it'd be kinda halfway-late-ish into the story where Barry manages to cut off LR's surveillance of him, breaks into the laboratory and searches through its archives for anything relating to time. during this raid, he accidentally discovers the true Patient Zero to this time experiment: a broken, decrepit shell of a man who has been hooked up to a set of wires and locked away deep into the laboratory, never meant to be discovered by anyone, only known simply as #000 'Craig'. Craig was the very first human they used to run an early prototype of these experiments, but through malfunctions in the threads of LR's technology, he ended up knowing too much and tried to break free from his time loop, which resulted in him being dragged out of reality and becoming completely detached from his own time, stopping his aging process completely and practically allowing him to exist forever and persistently through every reset unaffected. LR relocated him and considered him a catastrophic failure, locking him away in a cell deep in the bowels of the laboratory before destroying and erasing every archive of him ever having existed in any point in time. and now, the same thing is about to happen to Barry if he doesn't figure out a way to stop what's happening quickly. Barry, outisde of LR, is the only one who is aware of Craig's existence in this timeline. Barry makes a vow to make sure that he will never ever forget Craig, no matter what happens to him, no matter how many times his timeline gets reset, because he is the only other person on the whole world who truly understands what he's going through.

at the very end of the story, when Barry finally escapes the time loop and is about to enter into a new reality where none of this ever happened, he reaches out a hand to Craig and offers he come with him to live. Craig, however, rejects the offer, sadly confessing to Barry that because of his disconect from the threads of time progression itself, Craig must stay behind and be erased along with everything inside this one and let Barry live his life. Barry protests, insisting that his life wouldn't be complete without him and that they've already gone through so much together, but Craig assures him that this is the best for the both of them, and that Barry must leave him soon before the window to escape closes. Barry gives Craig once last goodbye, holding him close and basking in his presence for the final time. he closes his eyes, presses his head against Craig's and whispers "I promise I'll never forget you." before he slowly lets him go, not breaking their locked gaze on each other for even a second as he steps into the portal and ventures into an entirely new reality, never to return.

i want there to be an epilogue part where Barry starts his new life and goes looking for a place to stay, and he comes across the place where LR used to be, which is instead occupied with a big square fence plot and a sign that says "UNDER CONSTRUCTION: NEW RESTAURANT TO BE BUILT". Barry stares at it for a moment and reflects on everything that has happened. all the hellish experiments that were once held inside this very plot of land, all the trauma he went through to get to this point, Craig's sacrifice, everything has lead up to him standing here, in the right place, at the right time, to finally live the life he should've had to begin with. eventually, he turns away, continuing to walk down the street. he should go check that place out sometime.

(insert "what a fucked up dream for a baby to have" ending from 'then what' here)

[icewindandboringhorror]

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