#this has helped me feel out how he views things

[garfunklefield]

Right now I'm Shameless

18+ viewer discretion is advised

Fem!reader/Suguru Geto Warnings: plus-size!reader, reader is into cute pink frilly outfits, Geto is VERY into the readers body, emo!geto, opposites attract, oral sex, Geto is canonically hung, pussy eating with a tongue piercing, creaming, fingering, blow job, degradation/praise kink, overstimulation, crying, a little dub-con Word count: 3047 DESC: You've always wondered how many piercings your best friend has

Reupload!

“How many do you have?” 

You blinked a few times at your friend, who was lazily scrolling on his phone in front of you. You and Suguru had met in your first-year economics class and stayed friends up through college. Now as seniors, your friendship felt almost second nature. Suguru was different from you, in the sense of dressing. He wore dark clothes, had dark hair, and so many piercings. You always wore pink frilly outfits, so you contrasted perfectly. Like two sides of the color spectrum.

You never tried to stare at the dragon tattoo snaking up his muscular arm or the way his labret piercing stuck out with a sharp point on the bottom of his lip. You had tried counting before, but new tattoos and piercings seemed to show up every week. There were the gauges, eyebrow, labret, septum… but you knew there was more. Maybe in his ear? You didn’t want to consider yourself a creep, staring at him so intensely, so you opted to avoid eye contact with the handsome man as best as you could.

You wouldn’t say you had a crush on him, but you wouldn’t not say that. You were very much down for anything he wanted to do if he ever offered. But the thing was, he never offered.

Suguru lifted his head, purple eyes scanning your face. He raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment, trying to mentally count before he gave up and started feeling around his face. You noticed his hand then trail down to his stomach, before ghosting at his belt. His fingers delicately traced the silver and black surrounding his waist, holding up his black skinny jeans.

He… no way. Your eyes widened at the thought. A dick piercing? There’s no way he’d have one. And there’s no way you’d go this long without seeing it. Well no- you didn’t want to see it- well. You shook your head at those thoughts. He was just a friend, and you did not want to see his dick. He was just a friend, and you did not picture him naked sometimes. 

It didn’t help Suguru had a reputation for being incredibly … large. Girls and guys talked about it like it was a godsend just to be fucked from behind by his cock. Not going to lie, you’ve thought about it before. Just a small fantasy, and wondering what it would be like. You saw how he’d eye you in those short pink skirts or those low-cut kawaii tops, you know the ones you’d find on Pinterest. Your body was far from flat, being curvy and fat-filled in all the right places. Even if they weren’t the right places for others, they were to you. You loved your big form and you could tell that Suguru enjoyed the view too.

“Seven,” he looked back at you and adjusted his position, sitting up. You two were just in your dorm, sitting on either side of your bed. God the whole thing was pink, you felt so proud. He stuck out like a sore thumb.

You thought for a moment. Gauges, eyebrow, septum, lip… that was only four. So there were three you couldn’t see. Your mind and eyes instantly wandered down his body, stopping at his stomach, “Belly button?” You didn’t dare to look down to see the tent being pitched in his jeans, the tent you knew was growing as you continued to speak.

“And tongue,” he spoke softly, brushing some hair from his face. He pushed it behind his ear but it continued to fall into his eyes, “The other one you’re going to have to guess.” A seductive look crossed his face, trailing up to his eyes. He blinked a few times, barely closing his eyes to let his eyelashes ghost against his bottom eyelid. Fucking majestic honestly. 

“Guess? C’mon just tell me,” you frowned, motioning to his perfect body, “Is it a dermal somewhere?” 

“No. Think dirtier,” he then paused, “Think lower,” he suddenly purred. Suguru knew exactly what he was doing. You couldn’t deny you were attracted to him (I mean you do have sexual fantasies about him). And you couldn’t deny how it made you soak your underwear when he spoke to you in that low tone. You could just imagine him groaning sweet nothings into your ear with that perfect tone, with each thrust becoming sloppier as he attempted to reach his high. You could practically feel him bite down on your neck as he fucked you, pumping you with his seed.

“Lower?” You bit down on your bottom lip and adjusted your position to sit up as well, “Um… I don’t wanna seem weird.” 

“Nonsense, you won’t be weird. Did you go too perverted?” He smirked and set his phone on the bed, motioning down to his legs, to the pulsating hard-on in his skinny jeans, “I can show you if you’re too embarrassed to say it.” 

You slowly closed your eyes and released your bottom lip from the hold on your teeth, “Are you sure?” What was in the water today? Was it obvious he was turning you on? Was it obvious you wanted to give in and close the space, even if it was a mistake? I mean he was hard for Christ's sake! How much more obvious could you both get? Every inch of his body was on fire as if it was statically charged, just aching to touch your perfect curves. Suguru was hot, you couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t deny his attraction to you. You couldn't deny your attraction to him any longer. And it was obvious to him, huh? It must’ve been obvious to everyone. You slowly opened your eyes and stared at him. He was serious. God you just wanted him to show you how big he truly was. And god you just wanted him to fuck you like the needy little whore you were. 

“Always baby,” he grinned and stood up, beginning to undo his belt. You found yourself staring at his quivering dick through his pants. He was hung. You could see it from how his dick sat in his pants, becoming more erect as he just teased you there. His hands are seated atop his hips, with his cat-like eyes staring you down. Purple pupils dilated in your direction. Suguru then grabbed your chin and forced you to stare back into his own eyes, widening them as he continued, “I’m down if you’re down to see my piercing.” 

Your eyes fluttered a bit with your bottom lip jutting out into a pink glossy pout. You needed to think about this for a moment. If he was offering, you’d like to take a ride on that stallion. Besides, you couldn’t say no to that stare even if you tried. If he truly wanted to fuck you and he knew you wanted to fuck him, why not? You only live once. And you knew this would just be a one-time thing, just sex. God you just needed him to fuck you. 

“Can I see your dick now? I’m down,” you spoke softly, opening your eyes fully to stare at the grin atop his face. Fuck it, you thought. 

Your best friend nodded and let go of your face, bringing his hands to fondle his belt. He slid it off and then started to shimmy out of his skinny jeans. He looked stunning in just a pair of loose boxers that hugged his muscled curves. He thumbed the waistline of his underwear and let his eyes flick back to you, “Do me a favor princess, and kneel in front of me. I want to see how you look against my cock,” he cooed, watching as your plump form fell to the floor on his knees in front of him.

How could you say no to that beautiful voice as it rang through your ears? You couldn’t! You nodded hungrily as he smiled down at you. You looked pathetic. You felt pathetic. But you didn’t care. Just to taste that length around your mouth would be worth it. To swallow his cum would make you feel whole. Something inside of you needed him suddenly, and so badly.

Suguru slowly brought his underwear down, revealing his massive cock. He was huge. You could see it from the way it lazily sprung from his body and how it glistened in your room lighting. You wanted to touch it so badly, to run your fingers over his Prince Albert piercing until he was shaking for more. It was just a loop through the side of his tip, through the urethra, and out one side. You reached out and grazed your fingers up to his tip, lightly tugging at his piercing. He bit his lip and watched you, hands waiting idly on either side of his body. 

“Hold on,” he said softly, lifting one of his hands to sweep some of your hair up from under your scalp, “Do I have permission to use you as my fuck toy?” He pulled your hair into a ponytail, although you had to say it was the worst one you’ve ever seen. You looked up at him and went to speak but the tip of his cock lightly tapped at your bottom lip. You couldn’t even hide the moan that escaped your lips, and he took that as a yes. 

You opened your mouth and he forced his way inside you. You gagged at the feeling of his tip and his piercing kissing your mouth. It was already too much to be stuffed this badly but he didn’t seem to care. Both of your hands anchored to his hips, letting your nails dig in as he grabbed your ponytail. With one fluid motion, he brought your lips closer to the middle of his shaft, before pulling you back to his tip, then back again. It was consistent how utterly fast he was going. You gagged again as you felt his piercing trail up and down the side of your mouth, clashing against your teeth. 

“F..fuck you’re a whore for this, huh? You t-take this without any hesitation, huh?” Suguru breathed out, throwing his head back in a blissful state of condescension. You looked up at him and tried to pull your head back to speak, but he slammed you back against his cock. You whimpered at the sensation, feeling a pleasurable throb grow in your legs. Fuck you just needed some sort of release to make this all worth it.

One of your hands on his hip moved down in between your pants, rubbing against your clothed cunt. Anything for a bit of friction and stimulation. You just needed to feel him pound you, or better yet eat you out with that tongue piercing of his. You rubbed with two fingers in quick circles, feeling a small wave of pleasure build through your clit. You moaned and gagged at the same time, feeling the nauseous twinge run up the back of your throat. It hurt so good. God…

You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t even breathe from how much he fucked you. It was as if you were Suguru Geto’s personal fleshlight for him to use until he was completely milked dry. And it turned you on so much. To be used as an object. You wanted him to use you until you were shaking and crying for it to stop. Hey- you were halfway there already. Tears formed at the base of your eyes and threatened to come out with each thrust until they finally started pouring from your cheeks. 

“Aw… mm-f .. fuck. Is this too much for you p.. Mm, princess?” Suguru spat, raking one hand through your hair and yanking on the ponytail. He pulled you from his cock, a line of slobber hanging from your bottom lip. He stared at you with pure lust, just aching to defile every inch of your perfect body, “Look at me, whore,” he commanded. You did as he said, eagerly staring up at him for something else to do. God what a sub! 

You blinked a few times before he pulled you up. You whined at the painful sensation of being pulled by your hair, as he pressed a slobbery kiss against your open mouth. He tasted like cigarettes and it made your legs weak. You managed to find your footing and stand, letting him press himself against you. Suguru ate at your mouth as if you were his last meal, hoping and praying it would never end. He needed your taste against his tongue as if it was the last thing on Earth. 

“Pathetic slut,” he murmured, biting down on your lip. You gasped and then felt him force his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t feel the piercing against your tongue, but you could feel him move his tongue perfectly against yours. Saliva mixing made you throb uncontrollably. As you kissed, you felt him walk forward, inching towards your bed. You had a feeling where this was going. The railing right?

He pushed you back against your bed, your knees bending on the edges. Your best friend pulled your shorts down, not even caring to remove them from your ankles. You looked down with a dazed expression and murmured something about him fucking you, to which Suguru laughed and mused, “Let me please you first.” You didn’t need to be told twice, as you let your back hit the back of the bed with a light thump. 

You felt him slide down your lace panties with gentle care before two fingers spread your folds apart and a tongue licked your slit. You felt a metal pebble lightly rub up and down your clit as he licked, before moving to suck and slurp as if he was a starving man. A faint moan escaped your lips as your hips moved with a mind of their own, grinding against his face as his tongue moved circles around your swollen clit. Typically this motion wouldn’t get you so hot and bothered, but something about Suguru made it incredibly arousing. He was just … perfect. Maybe this shouldn’t be a one-time thing. 

Suguru pulled away for a moment and removed a ring or two from his pointer and middle finger, before dipping them into your pussy. You bit your lip and watched slowly as he sunk two fingers in. He curved his hand and bent his knuckles, beginning to pump in and out of you with a devious grin. You wanted to ask why he was admiring you with those eyes but as he grazed your G-spot, suddenly all words died on your tongue. You let out a guttural moan and lifted your hips to the sensation, trying to catch more of this intense pleasure he was giving you. 

“That’s it. Cream on my fingers, you filthy cunt. Aw does someone like it when I call her a cunt? You’re desperate. I could tell-” he spat as he thrust two digits inside you, “-you wanted me but you were too shy. And now you’re aching to cum… It’s almost cute,” a condescending laugh fell out of his mouth and he leaned forward, licking a pitiful stripe against your clit, “I could let you cum…”

“Please…” You whined, throwing your head back as the pleasure got too much. It was too much and not enough to be fucked by his fingers. You needed all of him at that moment, even if it wasn’t possible, “Please Suguru…” You breathed out shakily, turning your head to stare at him with an unfocused look. 

“Since you asked nicely,” Geto smiled and pressed his lips against your pussy, thrusting all the while. He ate you out and pushed another finger inside, just to see if you could handle it. You could; bucking your hips in response to the added stimulation. You could feel the exact spot it was rubbing and you could feel your body beginning to contort as the pleasure was building. You sat up and ground against his face, stretching out both arms to grab onto something. Nothing but sheets were in your vicinity and all you could do was helplessly grab them and beg to cum. It was mindless at this point, as he sucked your clit, to beg for completion. 

Something he must’ve done ended up pushing you over the edge. Whether it was his tongue fucking you or his fingers, something made you cum around them and clench. You clenched so hard you could feel his struggle to thrust them in and out, forcing him to instead internally rub against your G-spot. You gasped and lifted your hips again as you rode your high, biting down on your bottom lip and grabbing the sheets as if your life depended on it. You had never cum to the point of almost blacking out, but now that you have you never wanted to go back. The feeling of pleasure so intense wiping over you it made you dizzy, made another twinge of arousal poke at your clit. 

But you realized the pleasure had stopped. Suguru pulled his fingers out and pressed a light kiss against your cunt, standing up and then sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked down at you with fondness, taking in your half-exposed body. He murmured something you didn’t hear before clearing his throat, “You’re gorgeous.” 

You smiled and reached your hand out, grazing against his arm, “Round …two?”

He laughed and looked away, “I don’t think you can keep your eyes open. I won’t fuck you until you can’t walk …yet. I want to warm you up first.”

“This is a regular thing?” You raised an eyebrow, sleepily attempting to sit up but letting yourself slide back against the bed, “You haven’t cum though…”

Suguru shook his head and grabbed your chin delicately, contrasting with how he had manhandled you just minutes prior. He pressed a soft kiss against your temple and released you, letting you fall against the bed once more. 

“Get some rest and I’ll rail you in an hour, okay?” He smiled, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. Who were you to say no to such a face?

[moonstruckme]

HI MAE!!! HAPPY 7k 🩷🩷

can i please do a blueberry muffin from your bake sale??? I always wanted a part two to your drabble for the emt!marauders with a reader who gets vertigo. I still for the comfort of how it'll be the car ride to the hospital with the boys comforting the reader just like int he first part. the drabble ended too soon 🫶🏻

nevertheless, you totally degree this milestone!!!

Thank you lovely!

part 1

cw: severe dizziness, mention of vomiting

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 497 words

You’ve decided not to make any more sounds. Your moaning and groaning was only worrying the boys, and if you can’t control anything else you can control that. Still, as slow as Remus tries to make the next turn, you can’t help your soft intake of air. Your head keeps turning long after the car has straightened out. 

“I know,” Sirius murmurs in reply to your little gasp. His voice is weighed down with sympathy. 

You’ve figured out that the cold of his hands helps, so he keeps pressing them to your forehead, your temples, your neck. On your other side, James is doing his best to keep you from moving with his arm around your shoulders. You’re holding your neck ramrod straight for the same purpose. You can feel the stitching of the seats where your fingers are pressed harshly to them, though in your vision the car is only a smear of gray interior and a deep blue out the windows. You guess by the color that it must be early morning. 

“I’ve got a bag,” James reminds you. “Let me know if you think you need it, yeah?” 

Your answering hum is wobbly. Sirius moves his hands to your cheeks. 

“Are you feeling any better, sweetheart?” Remus asks. You can picture him looking into the rear view mirror, and you and then at the other boys. You wonder what faces they’re making in silent answer. “Can you see at all?” 

“A little bit,” you lie. 

Sirius makes a soft sound, low in his throat. He strokes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Don’t downplay it for us,” he chides, about ten degrees gentler than his usual admonishments. “We can’t help you as well if we don’t know how bad it is, baby.” 

You press your lips together, hard, clamping them between your teeth, but you’re sure your boyfriends can see the tears you’re holding back regardless. James kisses your hair. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “We can talk about all that when we get there, yeah? You’re alright.” 

A quiet whimper slips out of you, two tears blinking out of your eyes one after the other. 

“You are, angel.” James seems desperate to reassure you. Sirius’ hands move to press over your collarbones, firm and grounding. “You’re okay. We’re gonna make it better, my love.” 

“Once we’re there, we’ll try not to move you around hardly at all, dove, alright?” Remus chimes in. “We’ll get you settled and checked out, and the worst thing that can happen is you end up sitting still and waiting this out. No more driving or walking or anything like that until you’re feeling better.” 

“Okay,” you manage to squeak out in reply. 

“Oh, my sweetheart.” James sounds nearly on the brink of tears himself, and you think you feel Sirius reach across you to rub his leg even as they’re both comforting you. 

“I know.” Sirius kisses your temple. “I know, baby. We’ve got you.” 

That, you can believe in.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

“Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.”

Quinn pleaseeee 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

I'm gonna put a warning on this because I like it so I don't feel like rewriting it. Warning: shitty relationship with father.

Drabble Masterlist

"Don't touch me. We're fighting."

Quinn didn't seem to care that you were pissed. But pissed didn't even describe the soreness in your jaw from clenching it so tight or the fact that your body temperature was elevated or that all you wanted to do was scream. Glancing over as he stood on the other side of the kitchen island, his face was as it always was calm, his thoughts were probably collected while your brain was firing off things to add to the fire if needed, he looked like he was in control of his body while yours was being controlled by the rage inside you. Looking at Quinn only pissed you off more so you just looked away.

After a minute, you decided it was best to walk away and cool off before you said something you'd regret. Quinn on the other hand, wasn't done fighting he wanted you to understand his point of view and he didn't wanna wait till morning. As you made your way down the hall you could hear Quinn's footsteps behind you.

"Wait Y/N, Let me explain." He went to gently touch your arm in hopes that you would stop walking away from him.

He got his wish, you turned around talking through your teeth you grunted. "Don't touch me. We're fighting."

Quinn has never pulled away from you so quickly before. Even with how angry you were at him it still hurt you how fast he pulled away. Quinn was looking at the floor, for the first time showing emotion since your fight started. "I was just trying to help."

All you could do is sigh. "By telling my father off?" you question defeat clear in your voice. "Quinn I've been over this with you, my family isn't like your family. You can't just voice your opinions to my dad, especially if it's you disagreeing with him or his choices."

Quinn looked up at you finally, he frowned his eyebrows in annoyance but you knew it wasn't at you. "Well I am mad at him. He shouldn't be allowed to talk down to you and blame you for not getting along with your stepmom when all she does is talk down to you. I couldn't sit there and let her talk down to you at dinner. Okay. And I guess I'm sorry for how it came up, but I am not sorry for standing up for you."

"Quinn I know you were trying to stand up for me. But I don't need you or anyone to stand up for me, especially against my family. Okay?" you ask waiting for him to acknowledge you.

"No. I'm sorry because how can you let them tell you that you aren't as far in your career as you should be as if they helped at all with the cost of college. Or the fact that all they did all dinner was telling you everything you were doing wrong with your life?" His tone was accusing and you found yourself taking a step back, your body was exhausted and all you wanted to was get out of this ichy dress and go to bed.

"I don't wanna have this conversation tonight." you begged.

"I just don't understand why do you even keep him around Y/N!"

"Okay since you seem to not be able to understand why I let them talk that way to you let me explain it to you so we never have to talk about this again got it?" you ask waiting for Quinn to nod his head before you continue. "Look my dad might be a piece of shit, but guess what he's my piece of shit father not anyone else's. Everyone always ask me for years 'Y/N if I were you, I'd cut him off why don't you.' For a long time I didn't have an answer for them but as I got older I do and it's this. Because he might be a piece of shit but without him I wouldn't be standing here physically because he is physically half of me. And I know you have lovely parents Quinn and brothers. But not everyone does and I am terrifed that if I do cut him out all the way vs seeing him three times a year like I do now. That one day I will get a call and he will be dead and I will have regret for not at least having him in some capactiy in my life. So because of that fear of regret because I know many people who have it now since their parents passed. I keep him around and if you can't understand that fine, not everyone does."

Taking a step closer to Quinn you add, "but whether you agree or not, you don't get to judge me for the choices I've made when it comes to the relationship between my father and I. Because that is exactly what it is." Pointing to yourself. "It's MY relationship not yours and you also don't get to make it more shaky then it already is by yelling at him in the middle of the steakhouse."

Quinn and you aren't sure how long you stood in your apartment hallway, it could of been seconds it could of been minutes. At some point Quinn looked at you and said "agree to disagree." All you did was nod and you both said true to your word you never talked about your father and your relationship ever again.

[kaanagen]

KLOKLLEGE [ METALOCALYPSE AU]

This is a college AU with Dethklok, written by someone in college as a form of escapism. Let me point out some of their main traits in this universe:

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

24 y/o

Music course

Guitar prodigy

Not that egocentric but already pretty smug and vain

Figuring himself out, but manages to charm a lot of girls with minimal effort

Lives on the college campus

Popular enough to make him worry about his image and what people think of him

Goes to a lot of parties

Works part-time at an antique store on the other side of town so people won't find him and see him as "lesser"

Toki Wartooth

20 y/o

Initially came to study Theology, then switched to Fine Arts but is considering changing to Music after meeting Skwisgaar

Christian but non-practicing

Lives on the college campus

Considered the "weird guy" after becoming friends with Murderface

Not many friends

Ran away from home and forged documents to get an internship to study in America

With no financial help from his parents, works part-time at an antique store and does various gigs around town, which is how he met Skwisgaar and Murderface

Plays guitar as a hobby and is quite good for being self-taught, which helps him land a few gigs

Develops a crush on Skwisgaar as they start working together, but has conflicted views about his sexuality due to his upbringing

Purposely ruins Skwisgaar's dates as they grow closer through their job

Pickles

26 y/o

Initially not in college, but Nathan convinces him to enroll in the Music course

Doesn't get his piercings until after he meets Nathan

Ran away from home and has been living in the back of his family's stolen car for nearly two years

Goes to parties for free food, booze and drugs

Met Nathan after cutting himself while high and drunk at a party—they’ve been friends ever since

Pro at shoplifting

Befriends Skwisgaar after hearing him play at a party

After enrolling in college, Toki offers to help him study, but they can never focus

Has a situationship with Nathan that he's too scared to call anything else

Nathan Explosion

25 y/o

In college for American football

Only got through high school by excelling in football so that was his only notion to go forward

Part of an underground fight club so it's normal for him to be bruised

Pretty popular in his class

Goes to a lot of parties but keeps a low profile

Met Pickles at a party after Skwisgaar bailed on him to study for an exam

His mom enrolled him in a singing class once a week to help him talk more, but no one really knows about it

William Murderface

23 y/o

Wouldn’t be caught dead studying in college after threatening his high school principal into graduating him

Only in college because, once Toki befriended him through one of his gigs, he never left

Lives in Toki’s dorm rent-free to avoid going home to his grandparents

Has a bad reputation that rubbed off on Toki, making them the "weirdo duo"

Used to go to parties, but after getting beaten up trying to hook up with a girl, he gave up on hanging out with the college jackoffs

Doesn't know he has sleep apnea that keeps Toki awake at night

Helps Toki find gigs but usually messes things up, thinking he’s helping (and always asks for a cut of the money for his "help")

Some content I already made for Klokllege:

Pickles and Nathan's first encounters

First contact / The aftermath

Skwisgaar and Toki's soft feels

Glances

[ayylovley]

another Gun x reader smut with him being patient and sweet when he takes his s/o virginity pls 🥹🥹 btw ur smut is so soooo gooooddd ❤️❤️

oo ok he’ll be a little nicer than when he has a partner who hasn’t had sex and since he doesn’t really know how to be gentle it might take a couple of times but once he pops that cherry and finally gets in without pain he ain’t stopping 😭

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 𝕾𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙 & 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖗༘ ⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚

Warnings; praising, dirty talk, salivating, daddy kink, penetration, oral (fem receiving), edging, that’s all I could think of. Filth. You get the picture

Maya; I’m so sorry this took forever!

Word count; 2.6k

“Go ahead and lay down…”

Gun’s tone is a little different this time, softer than usual. But not enough to let your guard down, even so, you’ll need to be cautious. You already knew this when this is what you signed up for. “W-what position do you want me in?” You ask trying not to sound too nervous but the shakiness in your voice says it all. But Gun couldn’t help his growing sly grin.

“My, asking questions already? You’re already pleasing me like a good girl. Very well. Get on your hands and knees on the bed.”

With your body still trembling more than you’d like, you obey his soft commands and climb on the bed getting into the position that he wanted, letting your most sacred parts of your body on display for him. While you’re naked and ready for the taking, Gun takes a moment to really get a good view of you. Why rush into things? He’d like to take his time with someone who hasn’t been used up, yet.

His eyes follow every inch of you, the color of your clit and hole thats just begging for his cock to stretch it out and hear you sing. The shape of it, how tight you look, and now he wants to know how you taste. But he’ll be patient, he needs to touch you first, prepare you for what’s to come.

His fingers reach up to delicately hover and lightly caress you, to find out what part of you is the most sensitive. When his fingertips feels like a feather is tickling your hot slit, you gasp a little bringing your lower body away from his touch briefly as a reflex.

Gun catches this and bites his bottom lip already brewing up plans to get you to squirm. “I’ve found it…”

His words leave you more nervous, he’s a cold bastard and you don’t want to get on his bad side so you just wait for his next action. The pads of his fingers rub slowly and press against your throbbing area, with your lips muffled against the pillow you moan from surprise that seems to please him.

“I wouldn’t want to break you too soon, after all, you won’t be loose just yet. But I plan on making you my little slut after this night.”

His words leaves your heart swelling beneath your chest trying to process what you’ve gotten yourself into. But there’s no regrets, you wanted this and so did he. More so he wanted this first but his seduction and how hypnotizing he could be you just fell apart. Gun continues to use his fingers from one hand, the sound of flicking from a cigarette fills your ears from behind you. Even when he’s about to fill you up he needs a damn cigarette? With the hand that isn’t violating your cunt, he uses it to inhale the needed nicotine down his throat before letting out a content sigh.

The smell of the stick waves under your nose as you keep feeling his light touches upon your area. You’ll give it time before you decide to beg, but the longer you wait the more the nerves build up. Finally when the tip of a wet muscle drags down your sensitive skin, you gasp again becoming a slight moaning mess from just two or three dragging licks from his tongue. You could hear the evil chuckles behind you, making his breath blow on the spot.

“It seems that you’re so desperate for pleasure and you won’t beg? Now I’m curious. Let’s see how long this lasts…”

A few few more strokes, he sees the view of the delicious sound of your slick leaking out of your core “mm, you taste so good. I wanna taste every inch of you.” There’s a groan past his lips before he buries his whole face into her pussy practically inhaling it. His teeth sucking on your sensitive spot oh-so-gently. You can practically see stars from how he’s treating your virgin area more gentle than you’d thought while at the same time he clearly wants to devour you.

“Mm, still won’t beg?”

He resurfaced and rubs the digit of his index finger across your aching clit, your hands fingers clench on the bed. At this point you’ll break apart and he hasn’t even done anything yet. That might be embarrassing for you. So you’ll swallow your pride and nerves, “Gun… please! Please, please fuck me!” The hint of whiny tones that escape your lips make Gun smirk almost menacingly “Now was that so hard, princess? Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. For now.”

You stay in the doggy position on the bed while you prepare for Gun’s thick cock ahead. The rub across your slit from his tip followed by a sudden slap with his shaft sending a loud wet ‘smack’ sound. You joint up earning a little yelp, making Gun groan turning into a little dark chuckle “it seems that you want it more than you lead on.”

Slowly he positions his tip around your entrance and carefully pushes inside, “stay nice and wide for me, baby.” He coos as the palm of his hand stays on your ass cheek, watching as he slides deeper trying to be considerate with any pain you feel. You whimper when he fills up your walls, it does hurt you but you stay calm and try to be relaxed so he can just pound into you.

It’s not so bad that you need him to stop, but it’s enough to make your knees that were pressed on the cushions to shake a little. “Shh, you’re doing so good. Taking my cock like a good girl.” He slides deeper until his balls are now up against your clit. You immediately drag out a moan once all of the uncomfortable feeling has disappeared and replaced with the wanted pleasure.

You can’t help but grip around him so tight that he hisses through his teeth, “Hey, now (Y/N). You keep squeezing me with that tight pussy of yours like that and I’m gonna cum too early. And you won’t get to have yours~”

You bite back any whiny protests about how you can’t help it, it just feels too good already but instead you obey his soft commands and try not to squish your walls on his shaft.

With slow movements from his hips creating a series of low gushing sounds he tips his head back inhaling when his lips part. Your own noises of pleasure were drowning his ears, you just sound so sweet. “Damn, (Y/N). You feel so… fffucking good.” He sighs as his hands begin to roll down your back to the curve to your ass.

Your whines and breathy screams just makes him want to pound into you with no mercy. But he’ll stay patient before he gets to do that. He grinds against your walls, making sure you feel every inch of his length and seeing how he’s making you coax his shaft with how soaking wet you are. “Ahh! Gun!” You squeak a little while you’re slowly being opened up for him to fill you up further.

“What’s wrong? You want me to fuck this pussy until you can’t take it already?” You can hear the cockiness in how much he’s enjoying making you so needy. “Are you sure you can handle it?” His palm brushes over your cheek again, then dives right in between your legs to rub on the hood of your clit. He moans at the feeling of how much you want him.

“Yes! I can handle it now I can take it!”

You know that you’re only digging your own grave but you had a slight idea what you’re signing up for when you agreed to do this with Gun in the first place.

Gun lets out a little throaty chuckle, “if you say so. Very well. But I’m not stopping or slowing down.”

You let the warning sink in your head for a second before he picks up the pace with every thrust. The way you scream for him was just so delicious he couldn’t help but pound into your tight hole even faster. “So tight. And all mine.” Swiftly landing his palm on your bouncing skin following loud smacks from his hips hitting your ass, he groans when you open up more and more like your pussy is letting him in so easily.

“You’re being such a good girl, (Y/N). I’ll give you a sweet reward after.”

The praising causes your walls to grip on his shaft once more before immediately letting go trying not to make him cum just yet. But getting validated by this man makes you want to stay obedient to every command he gives.

Loud cries fall from your lips as salty tears stream down your red puffy face, so much sensitivity in your gummy walls as his thick hot cock strokes with no mercy leaves you already feeling drained. Gun tips his head back panting and groaning at how good this feels, how you’re being such a good girl for him, like he can almost smell your fear that leads you to not want any punishments.

Although… Punishing you for absolutely no reason whatsoever would be quite a treat too. But he’ll probably wait for that for another day. Since you will see him again, and he’ll make sure that you know this too. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore, he presses his large inked hand down against your back.

Pressing his palm into the spot between your shoulder blades to keep you still while he drives in faster, his curved tip hits just the right area you needed. Making your eyes roll back and begin to drool. For a brief moment you stop your screaming while your brain was turning blank. The only sounds being the rough slapping from his hips making contact with your ass cheeks that would be very sore once he was done.

When your able to find your voice again your toes curl and squeeze with a sudden heat wave experience down your body you couldn’t quite help but sob for.

“Ohh fuck! You wanna cum, I can feel it. But not yet, sweetheart. I won’t push you too hard since this is your first time but soon, you’ll be able to edge for hours…”

That sounded more like a threat than a promise.

While he continues to hit against that sweet spot you find it more difficult and uncomfortable with how you try to deny your orgasm. It feels like your body just needs to burst. And Gun makes it harder purposely of course when he then pulls you back gripping on your waist to watch your ass have ripples from the constant bouncing and slapping.

Your mind gets a little foggy, and your vision briefly spins in circles but you try to hold back as much as you can, noticed by Gun he moans at how obedient you’re being underneath him. The springs from the mattress creak mixed with your longing screams from your throat you made from reflex.

When his balls swing and smack against your clit roughly it adds to the friction and getting it harder to keep in check with your climax. When finally after an only minute you can’t take it anymore.

“Please!! Gun, I don’t think I can do this any longer ple-ease!!”

At the sounds of your begging Gun needs to hold back his own urge to release just so you can have yours like a gentleman.

“Ohh ffuck, do it. Cum on this cock! Then I’ll cum on your face!” With his permission your body tenses up to squeeze out the thick cum across his shaft. From how tight your walls clench from that orgasm he hisses and pulls out as quick as possible so he’d flip you over and pull on your hair making sure his juices spray and land on your face. He moans out breathlessly as he watches himself paint on you, rubbing his tip across your chin and forehead letting it dribble on your skin.

Gun chuckles a little letting the sight sink in. He nods in approval, so much pride and arrogance that fuels the fact that he claimed you well, but he wasn’t done. Nope. He was ready to see just how far you could go before he could make you pass out from exhaustion.

“Go ahead and spread your legs, I’ll give you the sweet reward I promised you.”

A heated sensation is felt on your face and ears but you nod and lay on your back feeling the damp blankets from the amount of sweat you have. Gun groans at the sight with his cum still coated on your face while your own cum is leaking out of your warmth.

He dives right in with no mercy or hesitation upfront. You can almost scream just from how amazing his tongue and lips feel against your pulsating clit as he spreads your folds open with his fingers.

He moans from your taste making him go wild, burying his nose nuzzling it while inhaling you. Sucking the hood of your clit giving it little nibbles your brain pauses for a moment, his fingers slipping into your opened core just adds to the pleasure with slow motions listening to your juices up against his face. You can see his black eyes get a little hazy.

You knew you’d have to ask for permission to let loose in his mouth but then it just felt so good that you greedily didn’t want him to stop. Gun focuses on between your folds for a little bit before replacing his fingers for his tongue circling around your entrance while his thumb pressed against your clit with very motions. Your eyes can’t help but get to the back of your skull while in the middle of seeing stars.

He catches your pleased reactions and has it purposely difficult not to release just yet. Just when you’re on the brink of asking for it he pulls away with a sudden warning expression. “Ah… I plan on edging you further, even if your body can’t take it anymore.” He’s just so addicted to breaking you already.

Your nails scratch and dig into the wet blankets below you, ten minutes of holding it all back goes by and you somehow feel like you’re weak knowing that you might not be able to go through with this little game of his.

Another ten minutes and suddenly you can’t get enough, even if you’re trembling hard your body threatens to cum with no control over it. But you are still successful with this aching feeling. “Hah, p-please Gun! I wa—“ Gun’s hand crashes down on your mouth silencing you shaking his head. “I don’t need you to beg, that’s not what I want right now. I want to see you falling apart. I guess I just wasn’t so clear about that.” His heavy body hovers above you, quivering and in pain.

The digits of his slim fingers easily slick past your pulsating hole, rubbing on the spot he knows he’d leave you destroyed with. “How’s that? Huh?” His tone mocking and mean, you can’t take it. “You’re fucking soaking. And you’re squeezing on my fingers so tight so a little whore. You’re definitely struggling yet you’re doing such a good job. I don’t know if I should reward you, or just want to make you suffer more…”

Gun definitely has a new obsession now. Maybe he’ll be thinking of you when he gets really excited when he’s fighting.

[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.

[luna-loveboop]

Wanted to share some thoughts, cause I NEED TO SHARE IT. (Though it might be quite obvious, yeah...)

So, the whole thing with Warriors acting more stern with Wild lately. One could think: "Why just Wild? Hyrule can be quite reckless sometimes, and Wind is THE BABY, so why not them too?"

Well, there's one thing that they don't have, but Wild sure does...luck of self-preservation.

Wars can trust that others, even IF they let emotions take over, would still try to avoid DYING.

WILD WILL NOT. This fella uses his FACE as a SHIELD for ANOTHER PERSON, when there's NO NEED FOR THIS, while being in his "right mind".

SO WHAT CAN YOU EXPECT OF HIM, WHEN HE LOOSES HIS MIND IN A STRESSFUL SITUATION?

Wars still gave him the benefit of the doubt for a while, but after this whole fiasco with Twi's injury - Wars just can not help it, he FEARS for Wild's well-being, because "Champ" himself DOES NOT (with his whole "failure of a hero" thing, I presume).

And how does one even adress it? I doubt Wars saw many people who didn't care about their life before, he was at war, usually people want TO SURVIVE there. He's on edge cause he sees a problem and has no idea how to aproach it.

I want to preface this by saying I have a severe inability to stay on topic but yeah let's talk about it.

So you touched on something me and Jesse have both touched on- that Wars' actions towards Wild come from a place of concern and fear. I think that this is true. Wild DOES lack self-preservation instincts, and Wars has to be afraid of losing him- of the young knight earning more scars. Wild can be an idiot sometimes, but Wars saw him lose his head and attack the shadow when it was just proved to be lethal more than they knew.

There's a difference of perspective between ours and the boys tho that is important and I think contributes to people judging wars for this. See, to Wars perspective, and all of the boys, they could die at any time. An injury could be fatal and they can't see the future. We however KNOW that Wild survives, because we know he goes on to tears of the kingdom. We know Jojo has said that he is reckless and will get himself hurt but always comes out of it. But Wars has watched a billion (<exaggeration) soldiers die and is terrified of it happening again. Whereas we watch the comic from the outside, knowing for certain Wild will make it, Wars is living out that reality harshly.

ANoThER thing I think people forget to account for is Wars is not just a captain, he's a soldier but also leader in an army. I'm not the best with phrasing sometimes so I'll try to say this well- people in the army don't always get to be nice. Oftentimes armies have very harsh environments in treatment towards soldiers because when it comes down to training and life and death there is no time for niceties or feelings. Wars was pushed into the most major promotion ever pretty much to be an army leader. If he's now in the mindset of viewing Wild as a fellow knight/soldier who is not a leader... angry words and facial expressions is pretty mild to be honest.

Wars is a really nice person for all he's gone through, but fighting in a war is a very different experience than a solo journey like the others had. I think it's time to acknowledge that he was forced into far more of a role than the pretty hero, but also an armies leader, and it takes a lot of work to be a nice person through all that. Wars is a nice person who has a ton of strength to be so kind after all he's been through and his actions towards Wild make sense considering his past with what journey he came from. Thank you for coming to my ted talk- no I'm not done.

If anything I said was in any way offensive let me know. I hope my words didn't somehow come across as harsh.

Although him (in a way) treating Wild as someone who is out of line is understandable given his past, it's still not excusable. Wild isn't a soldier and he's not the leader.

Now for Wild time I'm going totally of the rails let's go

Wild doesn't. Yeah ok Wild doesn't like Wars. I've made like. Fifteen thousand nine hundred and fifty two posts on this (<big exaggeration). Wild has not really... spoken to Wars throughout the Lu storyline, tho he did in some of Jojo's starting doodles. Wild has really only spoken to Wars since it all went down when mr. stubborn got injured. I think Wild has a lot of resentment towards Wars for being the knight he was supposed to- who succeeded. Wild has flat out ignored Wars a lot of the time and honestly I'd get pretty frustrated with that too.

Also I along with the other nine hundred people want Wars to trigger an army memory in Wild. For the angst.

Wars is wrong in how he's acting towards Wild and Wild is wrong in how he's treated Wars not as someone worthy of respect. It's hard to pinpoint what's going on in Wild's head but I DO know Wars thoughts- he's terrified for Wild's life and angry that he ignored him and fought the shadow.

But yeah you're right. Wild has no self preservation instincts and Wars can't rely on him to freaking stay alive. Thank you for sending me an ask and sharing your thoughts with me!!! You matter and I love hearing from you /gen <3

Also. Let's make this clear. I love Wars so much. So very much. He's literally a fairy godmother. No hating on him or Wild on my posts. Thank :D

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.171 Happy birthday to ya

When it got closer to party time, Sophia and I moved the couch to the backyard for more seating options. Our parties always end up fragmented with some sims eating in the house and others on the patio. My goal is to keep everyone together, so hopefully this will help. We also moved the picnic blanket and put the portable crib outside to accommodate the little ones. Because we're friendly again, I invited Yasmine and her girls, but she declined. She doesn't know the other guests and didn't want anyone asking questions about Stacey. I completely understood but feel bad for her. This spellcaster business has really trapped her and the girls in their home.

Apart from my baby aging up, I'm most excited about having Dub and his family in our home for the first time. Between the deaths and parenthood, it's been super hard for us to connect lately. I guess I was naïve enough to believe it would be easier being in the same city, but life keeps proving it doesn't matter where we are. Life is going to life, and that's that. I suppose I'll have to be more intentional about hanging with him too.

"You got it smelling good out here, bro," a voice says from behind me.

That Henford accent is unmistakable, and I was so glad to hear it. I turned around and embraced him.

"Wassup, man! Did you find us okay? Welcome! Finally!"

"Right? Took you long enough!"

"Don't even play, man. You know how life is sometimes."

"Sure do. This house is nice! And the view!"

"Thanks. If you're able to stick around later, I'll give you the tour. Hey, where's Maia? Is she coming?"

"Yeah, she's running a little late. She's just finishing up a project for a client."

"Ahhh. See? San Sequoia has been good to you already. I'm glad her business is picking up."

There's no way Dub showed up alone, so I looked around for Tambara, knowing she couldn't be too far behind. I spotted her toddling across the yard, trying her best to catch up with her daddy.

"She's getting to be extremely independent these days," Dub said when he realized I was watching her. "She won't even let us pick her up anymore. I don't mind that so much, but waiting for her really slows me down."

"She'll get faster," I said, thinking about Desiree's determination. "Just give her time."

Tami and Desi look nothing alike, but I see glimpses of the immediate future in her proud face and wobbly gait. I want Desi to grow up and change the world, but I can't part with my little girl. At the same time, I'm anxious to see her continue to grow. I love watching her smash these milestones like the boss baby she is. Ugh. Fatherhood is just a melting pot of contradictions. How can I be happy and sad, proud and scared at the same time?

Tami finally made her way over to us, so I waved.

"Hey there! Do you remember me? I'm Luca. That's a pretty dress."

Her face lit up, and I knew it didn't matter if she remembered me or not. I was currently her new bestie. Flattery works at all ages, hee hee.

"What do you say when someone gives you a compliment?" Dub asked.

"I know," she shouted.

Me and Dub had a good laugh. She's so precocious, and I love it. Kids really do say the darndest things, and I can't wait to hear what Desi will have to say. Hopefully that's not a be careful what you wish for situation, heh.

"That's right, Tam," I said. "You better know it."

"How are you holding up?" Dub asked, wiping the smile off my face.

"I'm good. As good as I can be, rather. It gets a little better every day."

"I'm glad to hear it. I can't even think about what that's going to be like."

"It might sound morbid, but you should start thinking about it, man. It's the shock that's hard to get over."

"You play dollies with me," Tambara shouts.

That was probably supposed to be a question, but she's too excited about her new, big friend and it's too cute.

"Oh, no," Dub says to me. "You start that and she'll never let you go."

She's adorable, looking just like both of them. I hope she and Desi will like each other. It'll be a shame to have them fighting or snubbing each other when we hang out.

"You can play with Desiree later, okay?" he says.

"Speaking of... We should probably get this show on the road soon. Let me finish these ribs."

(makeovers and family photos below!)

Dub and fam by @mysimsloveaffair

[sarah-bear706318]

Chasing Storms and Finding Love. Chapter:2

Summary: When Tyler's baby sister joins him and his team for a season she seems to catch the eye of a certain StormPar member much to her brothers dismay... will she listen listen to her big brother or follow her heart?

Pairing: Scott Miller X fem!reader, Tyler Owens x sister!reader

Warnings: Sneaking around, Pissed off Tyler, Love Struck Scott, ALOTS of kissing, A little age gap, Cussing, Drinking, Storms(duh), Falling in love, Slow burn

@nikkicloudie

If you wanna be tagged in future parts let me know!

The next morning you are awaken with banging on the door, seeing as you are not a morning person this was not the wake up call you wanted. "Tyler get the fucking door" you say still half asleep.

BANG BANG BANG

"Tyler get the damn door " you yell again to your brother turning over to see his bed empty. You groan while you get out of bed and stumble to answer the door, when you answer it you see your brother ready for the day with a big smile on his face. Your face not so friendly.

"Sorry I forgot the key, but I come with coffee" he says with a beaming smile trying to make you less mad, he knows how much you hate mornings so he's hoping the coffee will stop you from yelling to much. "You know instead of banging on the door like the swat team there are these things called phones you could have called loser" you say letting him in the room.

"Yeah I forgot that too" he says putting the coffees down on the table in between the beds. "Whatcha get me" you ask reaching for the coffee. He rolls his eyes knowing how picky you are about your coffee "Just what you like and how you like it an Iced Caramel Macchiato 2 pumps extra caramel made with almond milk extra cold foam and carmel drizzle" he says

"You are the best big brother all is forgiven as long as this coffee taste right" you say taking your first sip to check it. "You are so forgiven this coffee is better then sex" you say closing your eyes at the taste. "That is not something I never want to hear you ever again" your brother says.

You roll your eyes taking another sip of your coffee and picking up your phone to look at the time seeing that its a little before 7. "What time are we heading out?" you ask your brother. "I told the crew to meet us at the diner next door around 8 figure we can have some breakfast and make plan for the day. I also have something to talk to the crew about. You think you can be ready to go by then?" "Yeah I'll be ready by 7:55" you say with a smile while still sipping on your coffee.

True to your word you were ready to head out the door at 7:55. You knew this would be your first time on the Wranglers Youtube channel so you wanted to look cute, and you were hoping to see the tall cute guy from last night. You opped for a cute messy bun and light make up with one of your many UT Austin longhorn shirts and some shorts. You grab your bag and phone and head out with your brother to meet the crew.

As you're walking down stairs you see the cute tall guy with the ballcap from last night, and you cant help but smile.

Scotts POV:

Scott and Javi are standing by StormPar's truck when they see Y/N and Tyler making their way down. Scott feels the breath from his lungs get sucked out and his heart stop. "Hey Owens" Javi says as soon as the 2 of them get within speaking distance. As Y/N get closer Scott get his first up close view of her and all he can think of is how drop dead gorgeous she is.

He can see the freckles on her nose and cheek, the dimples when she smile, her pink full lips(man all he can think about how they would feel against his own lips) her bright green eyes. He can see the little nose ring along with a couple piercings in her ears and the tattoos she has on her legs and arms . He's not normally a guy that goes for girls with piercing and tattoos but she pull them off very well and looks classy not trashy. He catches himself wondering what other tattoos and piercings she may have that he can't see.

"Hey Javi and clipboard" Tyler says to the 2 men with a nod of his head. Scott rolls his eyes at the nickname and before he can say anything Y/n starts to speak "Tyler that was so rude" she says and smack her brother. His smile gets even bigger hearing her voice and the southern twang it has to it and also putting her brother in his place.

"Hey sorry about my rude ass brother I'm Y/n its nice to meet you" she holds her hand out to him "I'm Scott nice to meet you Y/n". Scott shakes her hand and he swears he feels electricity go through his body, and he sees a blush forming on her cheeks. You both held each other's gaze until Javi cleared his throat

"Hey Dr. Owens nice to see you again" he sees Y/n playfully roll her eyes at the formal title "Nice to see you too Javi but you do not have to call me Dr. How have you been" she asked while giving Javi a quick hug, Scott cant help but feel a twinge of jealously run through his body watching Javi wrap her in a hug.

"I've been good, its great that you're going to be here for the next few months, looking to be a great season and having someone with a PhD in the field will really come in handy for us" Javi says

"Us? Scott and Y/n say at the same time. Scott looks to Javi while Y/n looks to her brother both with a confused face.

"Yeah that's what I wanted to to talk to the crew about over breakfast" Tyler says looking between his sister and Scott. "While I was getiing your very very complicated coffee order" Tyler starts but is cut off by you, "Its really not complicated but go on" Y/n says to her brother "It really is but anyways Javi and I ran into to each other and started talking about how all the radars and data are giving reading of this being a very big season and maybe teaming up for some chases might be a help to both teams" Tyler says looking at his sister.

"First I've heard of it" Scott looks to Javi who puts in his hands in the air and says "It was just an idea and I was going to talk to you and run it by you this morning, so what do you think, Y/n is hella smart" Scott looks a tad annoyed by not being included in the first place but if he works with the wranglers that means he can spend more time with Y/n. Scott looks over to Tyler and his sister.

"So you have your doctorate in meteorology?" Scotts turns and ask Y/N

"Yeah I graduated from UT Austin just a couple months ago, I also studied a environmental science for a few semesters"

Scott stands there for another moment thinking. Working with Tyler and his crew was not something he wanted to do, they were reckless loud and got on his last nerve, but having someone with your educational background could be a big help. And getting to get to know you better would make it alot worth it.

"Fine but don't make me regret this either of you" Scott says looking at both Javi and Tyler Pointing his finger at them. When Scott looks over to Y/n he sees her are already looking at him with a smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat.

"Great I'll go talk to my crew and I'll let you know what they say" Tyler says has he reaches to shakes Javis hand then Scott's.

"It was nice to meet you Scott hopefully the crew is okay with everything and we'll be seeing a lot more of each other" Y/n says with a smile reaching to shake his hand again

"Yeah lets hope" Scott says with a smile reaching for her hand.

As Tyler and Y/n walk away Scotts eyes follow her. As much as he hated the idea of working with Tyler and his group of misfits he hoped the rest of the hillbillies would be on board he really wanted to spend more time with Y/n.

"Man don't even think about it" Scott hears Javi behind him.

"Don't think about what" Scott ask trying to act normal, while still looking your way

"Owens is very protective of his baby sister and he would kill you for even thinking about her"

Scott didn't reply he just kept his eyes on you watching away and heading across the parking lot to the diner. He could handle Owens.

Y/N POV:

As You and brother walk away and to the dinner your mind and body is filled with excitement, hopefully the crew would be ok with everything and you could spend more time with Scott.

Seeing Scott up close made your insides like jello. His tall muscular build, his blue eyes, dark hair, his chiseled jawline, his beautiful smile with the cutest dimples his deep voice, and man did he have arms for days. All you can think about about is how good they would feel wrapped around you and his lips on yours...

Tyler sees the small smile and a dopey look in your eyes and he doesn't like it. Scott of all people has caught his baby sisters eye and from what he could see she has caught his eye too.

"No" is all you hear as your brothers voice breaks you from your day dream. You look over to your brother and see him with a stern look on his face.

"What are you talking about Ty"

"I saw the looks you and clipboard were giving each other and its not happening not with him"

You came to a stop and looking to your brother. One thing about you is you don't take took kindly with people telling you want you can and can not do. You are a grown ass woman and could do as you please.

"Well Tyler last I checked I am a grown woman and do what I want, see who I want and make my own choices, now I'm hungry so stop playing big brother and hurry up" you say staring down your brother.

"I mean it Y/n no not him not happening"

"I mean it to I'm hungry hurry your ass"

Tyler rolls his eyes and points his finger at you "This isn't over" "Whatever" you say walking past him to go meet the crew and get some food.

As you make it to the diner you turn to look over your shoulder and see Scott looking at you, he shoots a wink and smile and walks to the other side of StormPars truck. You say a silent prayer the crew goes along with teaming up with StormPar!

[innerfare]

Angsty Sabo Headcanons 

Summary: A collection of angsty Sabo headcanons

Genre: Angst

CW: None // SFW

———

Sometimes, Sabo can’t stand the sight of his scars, especially the one on his face. It’s actually the reason he has a little skincare routine. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t overcome his early childhood education, which taught him that men like him are such horrible monsters. He thinks he looks like a monster.  

Sometimes when he gets undressed and turns the shower on, he stares in the mirror while he’s waiting for the water to heat up. He ends up focusing on his scars and wondering if he deserves them. A small part of Sabo thinks he does deserve them. Despite fighting to abolish the system that teaches kids they were born wrong and recognizing it is, in fact, the system that is wrong, Sabo just can’t escape the feeling that he was born wrong. 

Sabo didn’t attack Dragon that day because he wanted to take a shot at the strongest guy on the field, he did it because on some level, he sensed something paternal coming from the man, and it made Sabo lash out; he wanted to kill Dragon like Ace wanted to kill Whitebeard.

“I’m sorry he died, but at least he didn’t die in handcuffs.” This is the only thing that Dragon said to Sabo about Ace, and Sabo latched onto it. At least he didn’t die in handcuffs. He repeats the phrase over and over in his head, a mantra he chants internally every day. He keeps hoping it will make him feel better, but it doesn’t. It makes him feel worse to know the best his brother could have hoped for was to die like a man and not a dog; he shouldn’t have died at all. 

Sabo knows Ace died thinking Sabo would be waiting for him on the other side. He tries to comfort himself with the thought that Ace will be waiting for him, but it doesn’t help. It makes him feel selfish to think Ace died first. It should have been me. 

Sabo doesn’t feel good about having cheated death. He feels like a fraud, a phony, a mistake. He feels like he should be dead. And no matter how many battles he fights and wins, no matter how many enemies he defeats, no matter how many adventures he goes on, he can’t escape the feeling he’s wasting his second chance. Ace wouldn’t waste it the way I am, he tells himself. 

Sabo has nightmares about Ace’s death. The worst part about them is that he has no idea if they’re accurate. Is that how it happened? Is that what it looked like? Is that what adult Ace’s voice sounded like? Is that what Luffy’s scream sounded like? He has no fucking clue, and it tears him up inside. 

A doctor gave Sabo some pills to help him sleep dreamlessly through the night, but taking them makes him feel guilty, as if he’s escaping the punishment he rightfully deserves for not saving Ace. 

Sabo hates sleeping alone. He grew so accustomed to sharing with Luffy and Ace, and even after suffering amnesia, never got used to being alone in bed. Sabo will show up at Koala’s door sometimes at two in the morning and ask if he can sleep with her because being alone reinforces the feeling that he somehow abandoned his family.

When he gets his memories back, Sabo starts sending a little bit of money every month to Dadan. He views it as recompense for the pain he’s certain he caused her by not protecting the boy she raised from the cradle. He won’t go visit her because he’s terrified she’ll scorn him for Ace’s death and turn him away from her doorstep. 

Sabo has a page at the back of his journal where he writes down all the jokes he thinks would make Ace laugh, in addition to other things he wishes he could tell his brother.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[goatcheesecak3]

Comfort

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x gn!reader

Fic type: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, caregiver reader

Warnings: brief mentions of gun violence, ptsd

Summary: Adam has been suffering from panic attacks since news of another jigsaw attack hits the news, and needs comforting.

A/n: hello! I've been looking forward to writing more about Adam's soft side, so i hope you enjoy! Remember requests are open, and I'd love to hear feedback! Knowing that people enjoy the things I write really helps motivate me to write more <3

Adam had been having a real rough time as of late. Usually, he was quite good at not letting his past trauma get to him, and when the news broke that the jigsaw killer,  John kramer, and his right hand man, Amanda Young, were found dead, he really felt as though his nightmare was over. But news had recently broke that another one of John's sick "games" had taken place. Five people kidnapped and put through torment, only two of whom had lived. Maybe it was another "apprentice" as the police had called them. Or perhaps a copycat? It wasn't so far fetched, jigsaw had accumulated a somewhat cult-like fan base. Most of them were just people with morbid curiosity, they followed the case a little too obsessively but swore they disapproved of John's actions, although a few nutcases had popped up all over the city, thinking of John as some kind of pied piper, cleaning the city of the people they deemed unworthy. One of whom was Adam's ex best friend, Scott Tibbs. In the time that Adam was missing, Scott had completely lost it. He never was the most stable person but this was crazy, he was jealous of the horrific ordeal that Adam went through, he saw it as some kind of rebirth, he thought John was a genius. It made Adam feel sick to know that there were others out there who shared the same views as the evil fuck who ruined his life.

On a good day, Adam could mask his fear with anger, but today was not one of those days.

"Adam, do you want a cup of tea before bed?" You called from the kitchen into the bathroom where Adam was just stepping out of the shower.

"Yeah, that'd be great babe" he called back.

So far, it was a normal night (or about as normal as a night can be when talks of your boyfriend's attempted killer making a return are all over the news). Normalcy was something both of you had strived to keep, it was important not to let Adam slip back into his reclusive ways. He was doing good, but you knew any small thing could set him back, so you kept a close and caring eye on him.

"Here," you smiled, entering the bedroom and handing a mug to a rather tired looking Adam. He looked adorable in his loose tshirt and boxers, his thick black hair still damp and ruffled from a futile attempt at towel drying it.

Adam kissed your cheek and held your waist- a little tighter than he usually did. He was scared. He did a good job of hiding it, but the signs were there, that fear was bubbling up just below the surface.

"You wanna watch a movie tonight? I like the idea of getting all cosy with a movie in bed" you suggested, climbing under the duvet and patting the spot beside you. You wanted to distract Adam from his own thoughts as much as you could, and a movie was a good place to start.

"Sounds good" he smiled softly, knowing your intentions. He gently placed his tea down on the bedside table, and clambered into bed, snuggling up to you.

After flipping through the channels for a little while, the two of you found a channel that played exclusively dogshit, straight to TV romcoms.

Finding, watching and poking fun at the worst movies possible was a particular favourite past time for the two of you, so when your disparaging comment on how cheesy the protagonist was, was only met with a half hearted chuckle, you knew Adam's mind was elsewhere.

That fear was growing, you could practically feel it radiating out of Adam's chest, a palpable sense of anxiety emitted from the poor man, all while he tried his best to seem calm.

That was when a from somewhere outside, a car backfired. That was it for Adam, before you could even process where the two loud bangs had come from, he had burst into floods of tears. He was blubbering, holding his hands over his ears and hunched forward, as though trying to make himself as small as possible. His cries were the most heartwrenching sound you'd ever heard, they weren't that of a grown man, no, in this moment Adam was no more than a frightened little boy. He was so small and helpless, so afraid and so tiny. He hugged his legs to his chest tightly as his eyes rapidly scanned the room before fixating on the bedroom door.

Of course, ever since the bathroom Adam had associated loud bangs with gunshots, with a madman running into the room with the intent to kill. In his head he was back there.

"Sweetheart, deep breaths" you whispered, ever so gently placing a hand on his back and rubbing in slow circular motions.

Adam gasped for air between sobs, gripping onto the duvet so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Shhhhh, that's it honey, just catch your breath"

You spoke softly, not wanting anything else to alarm him.

Adam's breathing had slowed, but the tears still poured down his face and the wails still rung out from his mouth. You pulled him into an embrace and he collapsed into you. You took this opportunity to carefully guide him into a laying down position, so that he was cuddled up to your chest while you wrapped your arms around him. Your poor, sweet baby, you'd do anything to protect him.

"I know honeybun, it's scary isn't it? But you're so brave, who's my brave boy, hm?" You cooed, stroking his hair and letting some much needed praise rain down on him.

"I am.." Adam sniffled, taking in deep gulps of air and feeling immensely safer now that he was starting to remember where he really was.

"That's right, baby! You're the bravest boy in the world" you smiled, hoping your warm and nurturing tone would bring him some sort of comfort.

"Do you want your kitty?" You asked.

'Kitty' was Adam's childhood stuffed animal, he didn't like to sleep with it every night, but you kept it in a box right under the bed in case he ever needed it.

In that box was an array of things that helped Adam with his ptsd, panic attacks and insomnia. Noise cancelling headphones, eye masks, stress balls, snacks, even activity books. But none of them ever held a candle to kitty, a raggedy black toy cat with a big bald patch on it's head from years of nuzzling from Adam.

You felt around under the bed for a few seconds until you found the box and pulled it out, taking off the lid and handing Adam his kitty. Adam took it and held it to his face, burying his nose in it's head and closing his eyes.

"Do you want anything else, sweetpea?" You asked, offering the box to him.

Adam didn't speak, he never did when he got like this, instead he pointed at a packet of animal crackers.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, he looked adorable, and the fact that he was hungry was a good sign.

"Alright my love, crackers it is" you said, opening up the packet for him and handing them over.

Adam took one out and began to nibble on it slowly, he liked to chew things when he was anxious. Sometimes it was his shirt sleeves or fingernails that got the brunt of it, so you were trying to help him find alternatives.

You turned to look at Adam, he had stopped crying but his eyes were still wet, and his face tear stained. He sniffled quietly, his eyes vacant and his hands trembling as they clutched onto his teddy. You could tell exactly how he was feeling, still frightened but mostly embarrassed. He hated feeling so pathetic, being reduced to a snivelling wreck, trembling like a lost puppy. Reassurance was imperative to make sure Adam felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable, you didn't want him to start bottling things up again out of shame. You wiped his eyes dry with your thumb, and cradled his chin so that he was looking at you.

"It's alright, baby. You're safe," you whispered.

Adam snuggled up to you, burying his face in your chest and breathing you in, slowly and calmly until he had stopped shaking. He was starting to feel a lot better.

"Y/n?" He said, so softly that you almost didn't hear him.

"What is it, my sweet?"

"Can we put alien on?"

Alien was Adam's favourite film of all time, not your conventional comfort film, but Adam associated it with fond memories of being a young boy. One of his friends had stolen it from their older brother, and Adam and all his boyhood chums had watched it together at a sleepover. To this day, whenever Adam watched that film he could practically smell microwaveable popcorn, taste cans of flat cola, hear raucous laughter and feel the safety of being surrounded by people that loved him. He didn't have the best upbringing, and his family weren't so kind to him, so this particular night with all his buddies in a house far from his own was one of the few comforting memories from his youth.

You'd put the dvd in the player and turned on a few lamps, just so the extra light kept Adam aware of his surroundings, and climbed back under the covers where Adam, having finished his crackers and tea, shuffled over to you and rested his head on your chest.

He clung onto his kitty, and stared at the TV, his eyelids very slowly becoming droopy.

"Y/n?" He mumbled, almost out cold

"Yes, hun?"

"Kitty says thank you for looking after us"

You could hear the smile in his voice

"Well, tell kitty I'm always happy to look after both of you" You chuckled, kissing the top of Adam's head and giving him a squeeze.

He hummed sleepily and began to drift off, dreaming of cats, aliens, and best of all,  you.

[mallowsweetmiri]

hi lovely, don't know if you're taking requests but: reader is dating fred, she's sirius' daughter, she's asleep at grimmuald place the night of the battle at the ministry and when she wakes up lupin tells her sirius died and she becomes hysterical and has a panic attack fred trys to calm her down but she pushes him away and locks herself away. fluff ending?

sad wolfstar and angst/fluff with Fred? I love it.

Tw: character death, panic attack

—————————————————————————

It had been just a few weeks since you’d left Hogwarts. Considering you were an unregistered animagus, the daughter of convicted murderer Sirius Black, and caught up in the middle of a war, you felt justified to leave with Fred and George. Of course Molly was less than happy when the three of you showed up at Grimauld Place, but Sirius quickly stepped up to your defense. After all, he had been fond of pranks and mischief during his stay at Hogwarts.

“One night, me and Moony snuck out and changed all of the clocks just so we could sleep in. We kept changing them all week, and by Friday, it was dark at 2 pm!” Sirius had told you earlier that night. It made you smile as you laid in bed. You had waited your whole life to be with your father, and you were finally able to spend every day with him. So what if you missed out on graduating? Nothing could beat waking up and seeing the smile on his face. You heard a small knock on your door.

“Can I come in?” You heard Fred whisper as he cracked open your door. You were surprised he hadn’t just apparated in without permission.

“Yeah,” you whispered, sitting up in your bed. The moonlight fell on his face as he came into the room, shutting the door behind him. You couldn’t help but smile at him. It was comforting to know you had a lifelong friend by your side.

“Can’t sleep?” He said softly, taking a seat on your bed. You shook your head.

“Not quite. Just thinking,” you sighed, looking out the window at the night sky. Your eye was trained to go straight to Sirius.

“I couldn’t either. Not after all that ruckus earlier,” Fred shook his head and played with your sheets. Your head snapped towards him.

“What ruckus?” You asked, your stomach dropping. Damn this top floor room.

“I don’t know what it was about. You know how the order is, keeping us in the dark. But me and George charmed the front door just the other week. Almost everybody is out of the house right now,” Fred clenched his jaw, searching your face for a reaction. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you stood up. What the hell was going on? You hated that nobody told you shit. Sirius was the only adult who was willing to let you guys in on plans, but even he hadn’t said anything to you tonight. He often held things from you and used keeping you safe as his excuse.

“Do you think they’re on a mission? Even Sirius is out?” You said nervously, biting your nail. “He’s not supposed to leave the house.” Fred stood and placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, it’s going to be okay. I wouldn’t have come and told you if I thought you were going to get nervous,” he chuckled, his smile relaxing you a bit. “Now, come on. Me and George are playing snaps in our room.” You let out a huff at his incredulous face and shook your head, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“Okay, okay. Let me just put some pants on,” you grumbled, turning towards your dresser. Fred plopped back on your bed.

“Okay, love. There’s really no need for that but if it makes you feel better,” he hummed. You shot him back a glare that only widened his grin. You slipped on a pair of sweatpants and followed Fred out of your room, down two flights of stairs, and into the twins room. It was just a gray as yours was, but with a window view overlooking the opposite side of the city.

“There she is,” George grinned, laying out a deck of cards on the carpet. You waved him off a took a seat. “Let the games begin.” The three of you got through four rounds, and it was beginning to get heated when a racket from the front door startled you. Your eyes came to meet Fred’s as a look of concern flashed through both of your eyes. You scrambled up and ran for the door, entering the hall to peer over the railing. You saw the lot of them rushing into the house, some looked injured. You watched as Remus entered, looking thoroughly shaken, but no Sirius by his side.

“Y/N, wait,” you heard Fred say, but you ignored him. You dashed down the stairs towards Remus. Towards the man that raised you.

“Remus, Remus,” you panted, your stomach dropping when you saw his face. “Where is my dad?” He physically cringed when you said this. You already knew at that point, from the look on his face, the pain behind his eyes. You knew this man well.

“Y/N, darling. Let’s go somewhere private,” he spoke, his voice raspy and barely above a whisper. Tears brimmed in your eyes, your voice caught in your throat. You could feel Remus shaking as you clutched his arms, his own eyes looking wet and bloodshot. No. No. This could not be happening.

“Remus,” your voice cracked, “is he- He’s gone?” You whined, your body rejecting even the thought. A tear spilled out from the corner of his eye, his entire body shaking with grief. Remus couldn’t help it of course, when you looked so much like him. When he had watched you wait for Sirius your whole life, just for him to be taken away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Please, let’s-” you didn’t stay to hear the rest. Your feet were taking you up the stairs. You ran past Fred despite his protests and went straight to your room. You could feel your lungs collapsing when you finally reached your door. The air was coming in short gasps, over and over and over again as your eye reached his star outside the window. Your body let out a whine as you fell back against the door. You sobbed as your breathe left you. You didn’t feel real, this couldn’t be real. You had just gotten him. You had finally gotten to see his smile and hear his laugh and see where you got your hair from. You had finally gotten to see Remus smile for real, gotten to watch them joke around like the old times, gotten to see the man Remus told you stories about when you were little. And all for nothing. All for a war to tear him away from you. Another sob choked you as you reached for your wand, casting a locking and silencing charm on the door. The floor felt cold. You gasped for air as you imagined how cold Sirius was. Where was his body? Nobody seemed to carry him into the house. You felt bile rise up in your throat as you imagined him, cold, hard, and dead. Your body rushed to the bathroom and fell over the toilet, violently gagging into the bowl. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think. You didn’t want to be here anymore, not in this body. Not when you looked in the mirror and saw his eyes, his hair, resting on your face. You couldn’t do that, it was too painful. It would be better to be with him, even if it meant not being alive.

“Y/N,” you heard a knock on the door. You laid on the bathroom floor, trying and failing to breathe.

“Y/N, please let me in,” the voice called again. It was Fred. You pushed yourself up and tried to call out but your voice failed you. You realized it wouldn’t matter anyway because of the charm. And your wand was next to the door.

“Y/N, I’m going to come in,” you heard him say. He muttered a view counter spells and easily undid your charms. Must’ve been sloppy work on your part. You found it hard to care. The door cracked open and Fred stepped inside. You stayed on the bathroom floor, curled into a ball, choking on your own sobs. “Y/N,” Fred gasped, coming over to you. He knelt down beside you and scooped you up into his arms as if you were nothing more than a bag of flour. You wailed again as you felt the warmth of his body flush against yours. A stark difference from the cold bathroom tile. “Shh,” he shushed you as he sat down on your bed, rocking you in his arms. This made you cry harder into his chest.

“He- he’s gone. I only just had him and he’s gone,” you moaned, hiccuping on your sobs. His hands came to stroke your head as he shushed you.

“Just breathe, Y/N. Just breathe for me,” he whispered, taking deep breaths in hopes you’d follow. You tried your best to match his breathing, albeit your sobs broke them up. “That’s it,” he muttered into your hair, “just breathe.” You relaxed into him as your sobs settled down, your body finally exhausting itself. You sniffled and sat up a bit, seeing how badly you’d drenched Fred’s shirt with tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, running your fingers along his shirt collar. He huffed out a laugh and put his hand on your cheek.

“Y/N, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” he smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your head. You hugged him again, taking a deep breath into his neck. He hummed as he rocked you in his arms.

“I- I know,” you sniffled, “but I’m still sorry.” You sobbed again into his chest. Your heart felt like it was tearing itself in two.

“Y/N,” Fred whispered, trying to calm you down, “let me take you to Remus, please Y/N,” he kissed the top of your head again as he rocked you. You nodded into his chest, knowing he was right. You couldn’t imagine how Remus was feeling, and it made you hurt inside even more. You sniffled and sat up, looking down into your lap.

“Thank you, Fred,” you said, looking up to him through your tears. He offered you a sad smile as he wiped them away.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, using his strength to stand you up. “Let’s go,” he reached out his hand and you took it. He led you down the stairs and into the main foyer, where Remus sat with his head in his hands. You frowned when you saw him.

“Remus,” you whispered, your voice giving out. His head snapped up at your voice and he rushed towards you, immediately wrapping you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he sobbed as he rocked you. Your sobs escaped you again. You heard the doors shut behind you and figured Fred had left to give you space.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered as you cried in his arms. Remus had been with you for your whole life, and in this moment, you were eternally grateful. The two of you cried for the rest of the night, and you figured you would cry for a few more. You were just grateful to have him and your friends to help get you through this.

[commanderhorncleaver]

Oryen! what's your opinion on Former imperator Baelfire? Has that changed over time?

"In reality," Oryen says with a casual drawl that contrasts his words, "I was never exactly fond of him. When one is raised in war it takes a lot to change how people think, for them to agree on what should be normal."

"Gaheron's rule provided a status quo that permitted myself and others to push the boundaries of normal magic--war innovates, you know. I was satisfied with that."

"My opinion has no reason to change." The auburn charr stretches, yawning wide, and peeks at you through a cracked eye the color of aquamarine. "Charr are war--or we were. My son is out there trying to make things...tamer for us. I can only hope he doesn't stifle innovation in doing so."

[autisticandroids]

CASTIEL: Stop. What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me - not love, not respect, just fear.

[youtube with closed captions]

a godstiel pity party. i'd like to thank an anon i got way back in february of 2021.

[luobingmeis]

my jgy thoughts have been expanding and adapting and roiling and toiling etc etc etc and all of it is coming down to me affectionately marveling at this character. he’s cut-throat. he’s cunning. his kindness leaves lasting impressions. his mercy is what predates his demise. he’s one of the few cultivators who helps those in need. he will sacrifice them if it benefits him. he loved. it didn’t last. it killed him. it orchestrated his downfall. he’s a genius. he’s paranoid. he compartmentalizes. he splits the world into who he would sacrifice and who he would not. people he loves and people he would sacrifice are not mutually exclusive. he’s filial to a fault. it was all for his mother. he is a study in assimilating to survive. the results vary. he manipulates the herd mentality to his benefit. it is turned against him. he is killed for the one thing he didn’t do by the one person he wouldn’t sacrifice. it is still somehow better than what the hive-mind cultivation world would have done. i love this tragic kaleidoscope of a character.

[doodlejoltik]

my favourite writing device is having an un-Rei-liable narrator