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uyuforu · 4 months ago

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Astro Observations: Solar Return Chart IV

Hi!! Here is another Solar Return Chart Observations post lol. Since I am officially on the new one, I thought of doing another post to conclude and coming back on the last one, meaning the one of last year. Coming back and looking back over what happened :) Let's go! I hope you will enjoy this post ^^ This post has mature and triggering contents, so be aware and careful when reading it!

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart I

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart II

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart III

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꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ I was Leo Rising last year, and I was very popular around me, people were also checking me in the streets. It wasn't even sexual or anything, people were just noticing me super easily, and I was the center of attention wherever I was going.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun 12H indeed meant that loneliness was def going to be there. I was very lonely most of the times, and it's not even physically, it was def mentally. I wasn't seeing my friends often, and I was just feeling very alone in a corner. I felt like no one really understood me and as if I was just left alone. One of my friend passed away suddenly also this year, so I really felt alone for sure. Also the years I was more into Astrology and Tarot! Just a full year of learning more on the spiritual and esoteric side!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Venus 1H, I had a glow up, though it happened quite over night. I don't have much explanations on how it happened. Suddenly I was veryyyy pretty, I bought better make up products, and the way it was showing on my face was just insanely good?? IDK!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mercury 1H, I was more confident when it came to talking to other people. I used to be very shy, and used to not be confident enough to talk to others, but this year I felt more confident to do it. Anxiety when calling, ordering disappeared. And I was less scared to talk back to people.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 1H Ruler in 12H, I was most of the times by myself, mostly doing things on my own, and I felt very alone.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mars 2H, I was much into shopping some times, and I was more anxious and stressed about making money. I had a lot of motivation about it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 2H Ruler in 1H, I was more spending money on myself.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 3H Ruler in 1H, I was talking more about myself to others, than before. And I was also writing more about myself, for example on the blog I post a lot about my experiences to support my theories.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Scorpio 4H, time at home was stressing and slightly toxic. I had this need to runaway or even live somewhere else. I wanted to escape. My idea of home changed.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 4H Ruler in 6H, staying at home was my routine, I was working from home too.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Vertex 5H, some destined events happened in my love life.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 5H Ruler in 9H, I traveled to NYC last year, and it was for holidays. I traveled to meet someone I loved (who didn't come in the end lmao). I also met another guy who had a crush on me there.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Pluto 6H, I took some weight lol, not so much. Since I moved less because of my job, I kept seating down and took some weight.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 6H Ruler in 7H, I was healing my relationships trauma last year, I went to therapy and understood a lot of traumas I had. I also made a lot of friends at work.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Aquarius DC, a lot of things changed in my relationships, I realized tons tons tons of things!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 7H Ruler in 10H, I was in a serious relationship last year, but 7H was ruled by Uranus, and it didn't end well.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Saturn 7H, didn't see my FS all year, didn't talk to him. And when I asked to meet him, he refused. Def a year I couldn't reach out or talk to him! I also couldn't be in a relationship, or anytime a guy had an interest in my, it's like the Universe worked through to not make it work out. I also broke up with my ex bf that year.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Saturn conjunct Groom, same!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Groom 7H, I realized my FS was my FS last year. I also realized I was in love with him.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Neptune 8H, I had a lot of vivid dreams last year, I dreamed of my mother in law too, and of my FS as well, both of them talking through dreams to me. I also didn't had s3x all year, refused any s3xual advanced. Though, I had a lot of s3xual dreams.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 8H Ruler in 8H, transformation was a keyword last year, I was also more open on the spiritual side, and I had a lot of grow that happened.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Moon 9H, I was constantly learning new things, and more on the spiritual side, and also esoteric. I discovered so many new things, and I needed that. I wanted more and more!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Chiron 9H, i traveled and felt like the travel I did was a waste of time and money lol ;-;

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 9H Ruler in 2H, I traveled to NYC and it was painful for my bank account.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Jupiter 9H, similar to Moon 9H.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Moon conjunct Chiron, my feelings were hurt often this year. I was crying A LOT in general. Perhaps the year I cried the most.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Jupiter conjunct Uranus, a lot of benefic transformation, despite it wasn't that easy sometimes or just very sudden.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Taurus MC, a year of trying to find a harmonious balance at work, and trying to find my way. Was focused on the money I made, and also trying to find a routine through work.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Uranus 10H, I changed jobs twice last year! I was fired, I just changed. And by the end of the second job, I decided to work at my own name. And so, I now work online, as an Astrologer! Uranus also rule here over uncommon jobs.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 10H Ruler in 1H, was more popular, and people noticed me in the crowd more easily. I also decided to work for myself, and started my own company.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 11H Ruler in 1H, I was positing lot more selfies and pictures of me than before online. I also had a lot of internet friends.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Union Cancer 11H, I met one of my best friend last year, she is a Cancer Sun and we met online!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Juno 12H, i was dreaming a lot of my FS this year, also didn't meet or talked to him all year.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 12H Ruler in 9H, I traveled this year, and overseas!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun conjunct Venus, I was and felt more pretty, a glow up that happened!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mercury conjunct Mars, I was more aggressive sometimes when I was speaking, I was often aggressive when trying to stand up for myself, or just explaining myself, I think it was me finding the right adjustment between never standing up for myself before, and doing it now, but not knowing how.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Groom conjunct Neptune, dreamed a lot of my FS.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun opposite DC, didn't see or talked to my FS for the whole SRC, I also didn't want to be in a relationship.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Venus conjunct Rising, very same as Venus 1H or Sun conjunct Venus.

Thank you for reading!

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#astrology #astrology observations #astro #astro observations #love astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr #astrology community #astrology chart #astrology notes #astrology solar return #solar return observations #solar return chart #solar return analysis #astro solar return

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artigas · 2 months ago

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look, the second that i learned that emerald fennell's next project is wuthering heights, i audibly groaned. to say that i had zero expectations would be an understatement. i was bitterly hedging my bets that i would detest her take on WH because, as someone who thought saltburn was fine and promising young woman was ethically shallow, i'm pretty resigned to the fact that i'm always going to find fennell to be, fundamentally, a bit insufferable. like, she is a director who has demonstrated (to me) that her capacity to write, direct, imagine, and construct stories is on a very short leash and is very explicitly tethered to her lived experience. she isn't paul thomas anderson or ava duvernay. she isn't celine song or chloe zhao or autumn de wilde. the worlds she constructs are very, very small and very adjacent to what i imagine to be her own. in a way that is, i think, far less palatable than greta gerwig, emerald fennell seems truly incapable of constructing a story that is not built on whiteness, wealth, and how that speaks to a very specific kind of privileged (and often self-vindicated) womanhood.

so, anyways, the casting of jacob elordi as Heathcliff makes me want to lick rust. because it's really appallingly offensive and and you would think (!!) we'd collectively evolved past the point of whitewashing when source materials actually include people of color! like, you'd think we'd finally stop ignoring how Heathcliff being a non-white racialized other is indivisible from the conflicts of the story and a core undercurrent for his character motivations. like, you wouldn't think that in 2024, Emily Bronte is still more radical than hollywood. so, i'm fuming. but maybe we should also think about this as a blessing in disguise because woe betide the day that fennell of all people is tasked to center a film around a villainous black/brown man lol

#wuthering heights #honestly kinda insane to me that we'd cast jacob when dev patel and jacob anderson are right there #but you know what? you never know what worse luck your bad luck is saving you from lol #personal #lemme stop being a hater (i'm right tho) and yapping online

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syluspen · 29 days ago

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alternate universe where you are sylus’s college gf (heavy projection because i am really being delusional right now, i need him so bad please)

being in a relationship with him will be one of the highlights of your college years

being with him will also make your college years a lot less stressful because… you literally have sylus

his presence alone would be enough to motivate you (i definitely would be!)

no matter how busy sylus can be, he always picks you up at your home, giving you your daily dose of coffee, sends you to your university, and picks you up after school (lord when will it be my turn)

when you finish early, and his schedule is not hectic, expect its going to be a spontaneous date… or is it really spontaneous knowing sylus almost have everything planned out? (lord when…?)

you have homeworks to do? study date it is. you have a presentation to prepare for? i just know he is going to help you in any way he can. too much tasks to do? sleepover it is at his mansion. i just know he will do anything to spend time with you. doesn’t matter if you are extremely busy, as long as he can be beside you, and support you in ways he can, he is happy. (lord i’m begging)

your stress level meter is definitely not going through the roof with this man around. he just supports you so much that you feel like whatever you have to face, you can do it.

and imagine during the sleepover, you’re writing a research paper, and he is seated across you. you have been focused for like an hour now, and starting to feel exhausted…

but you stare at him, scrolling on his ipad (ipad kid sylus lol), while in his robe (high-key a miracle you are able to focus with such a nice view), and you just… ksksksksksks motivation levels? gone through the roof!! And you immediately get back on writing while smiling to yourself.

don’t think he did not notice though, but he is not going to bring it up until you are done. (i love it when a man [sylus] is considerate)

and after you’re done, he cuddles you and kisses your forehead, telling you did a good job today 🥺❤️

these thoughts is what keeps me alive everyday man. my brain thinks of sylus and i just 🥰❤️ but when i come back to reality with no sylus, i go 😔💔 like what do you mean there is no sylus irl…

#sylus thoughts 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 #love and deepspace sylus #sylus fluff #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace #loveanddeepspace #sylus x you #sylus #sylus qin #lads

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tomiyeee · 1 year ago

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donnie had. SO. much concept art lol. i really enjoyed the whole design process though. his base design is very difficult to work with because of the battleshell, but it gave me a lot of chances to get creative and i'm happy with the results :)

(also as a disclaimer so i don't get asked about this: i don't have motivation to finish raph or the wish art for donnie, so i'm just posting what i've got)

i didn't annotate these as much since there'd be a lot to write, but i'll write out some of my thought processes and go into some detail about his final design below the cut if you're interested! (it's long. i'm talkative 😔)

1st row - first iteration; much more literal 1:1 translation of his design into a fantasy setting. very steampunk-y. ended up completely scrapping it because, simply put, he looked more like an npc than a playable character. obviously, several features did still carry over throughout the design process :3 also wanted to imagine his attack pattern cuz i thought it'd be fun to incorporate his spider arms.

this was actually the first design of any of them i'd come up with! i've definitely learned a lot about genshin's character design style since then and i think it shows 😂

2nd row - playing around with the idea of a floating battleshell (rather than a backpack-like one in the the show & first version), inspired by nahida's cape. also hard light constructs/attachments. was leaning too into the sci-fi and rectangular motifs with the design, but i liked the idea.

3rd/4rth rows - concepts for his final outfit and shell designs (the colored/more-detailed pics are the more finalized ones). took a lot of inspiration from sumeru this time around. it's a lot sharper, shinier, and less rectangular than his og aesthetic, but i think it's more in-line with genshin's design philosophies.

5th row - not entirely sure why i went through all the trouble of making a 3d model for this. i mostly just thought it'd be fun and good for reference. i was right, but i don't know what to do with it now lol. can't be bothered to be a perfectionist about it though, so don't look too closely at it 😭

6th row - incomplete thumbnails of his burst/wish art. not super sold on that "wing" design in particular, but i do like the idea of his shell splitting and deploying hard light weapons/rocket launchers/etc sort of like in canon.

battleshell/misc notes - i'm thinking his battleshell is controlled using the pink sensor on the back of his coat, possibly in combination with his headset. it floats behind him by default and is sturdy enough to protect his back, but he can also freely fly it around like a drone if he wants. the holes on the side are mainly for the spider arms and the banners(?) and handles(?) with the blue/pink gradient are made of hard light and only appear when the shell is in use.

i imagine like in the series, his tech here isn't necessarily very reliant on his vision/powers; much of it he likely made himself long before he received a vision and he just uses his vision to enhance it.

his burst is a barrage of missiles from his shell that lock onto an enemy and deal a large burst of electro damage in an AOE. not sure if i want his skill to be a deployable or some sort of electro-infusion/boost 🤔 maybe something that involves deploying his shell to boost his damage while leaving him vulnerable, like a glass canon? though i'm not sure he'd be that sort of risk-taker... 😅 dunno! his signature weapon would totally be his tech bo though.

that's about all i can think of. thanks for reading!

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt au #rise genshin au #rottmnt art #my art #mangastudio #3d #art #process

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tkaulitzlvr · 1 year ago

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hii can u pls do c0ckwarming with tom omg

STAY STILL - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom can’t wait any longer, but knows that you are too tired to fix his problem the way he wants you to. but you can’t deny the need slowly becoming mutual so, you decide to meet him halfway, and he doesn’t complain.

content: smut (not full sex, just what the req says lol)

a/n: thanku for the req!! SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING, hopefully this makes up for it! literally screaming and giggling whilst writing this (help), also the way he moves his tongue in this vid HELLO (need it inside me) ++there won’t be a part two (don’t hate me!) my upload schedule is just too irregular, i have a ton of requests and just don’t think i’d be able to write one, in the future if i’m less busy i may come back to this!!

“please baby, i’ll do all the work, i promise.” tom pleads for probably the tenth time, digging his head into the crook of my neck and placing open-mouthed kisses onto the skin, whining lowly against it. any other time, i would’ve given in the second his lips made contact with my neck, and he knows this, deciding to try his luck once again. however right now, the circumstances don’t work in tom’s favour, much to his annoyance. i am too tired to even properly decline his request, sighing loudly and shaking my head as my eyes flutter closed. this isn’t enough for tom, my lack of response not a concrete ‘no’, this all he needs to press himself against me once more, hoping that it would be just enough to push me toward that three letter word he has been longing for me to say. whilst our proximity doesn’t do that just yet, the frequent motion of tom’s hips rocking against my waist reminds me just how desperate he is, the hardness evident through his boxers - not that the cotton left much to be imagined anyway.

“baby i’m tired, tomorrow, okay?” i sigh out, half-heartedly pushing tom away as a frustrated groan leaves his lips. though he fails to see the mischievous grin that spreads across my face with the small push that i place to his chest when he flops beside me, clearly not understanding what i am doing. honestly, i wouldn’t have minded lazy sex - tom never complains when he does all the work and, if i give in, it will make him shut up, his whining already getting on my nerves, whether he is trying to irritate me or not. but, watching the way his face furrows in utter frustration, wincing every so often at the pain that begs for a release from underneath his boxers, gives me the motivation to tease him just a little more - but in the end, i am more than willing to give him what he wants, or at least, meet in the middle.

“fuck.” he mutters under his breath, wincing a little at my response, eyes squeezing shut as his chest heaves up and down, loud and shaky breaths escaping his lips, making it hard to close my eyes and finally fall asleep. i know that he won’t give up yet, so, i lay silently, wondering how long it will take for him to continue pleading me to let go and give him what he wants. and, as expected, not even two minutes pass before his hand snakes around my waist from behind? his body pressing itself firmly against my back.

“this isn’t gonna go away baby, shit- i’m sorry, just, please…let me do something.” he sighs out, a low whine following his plea, hand firmly squeezing my waist whilst his head buries itself into my neck, teeth digging into the skin softly. “fuck- need you so bad, please.”

a small laugh leaves my lips, stifled quickly once i purse them shut, thinking out loud as my amusement towards his desperation quickly becomes evident. tom stops his slow kisses against my neck, whipping his head upward in confusion, failing to see how i could possibly be laughing right now. “what’s so funny? seriously schatz, this fucking hurts. please, just let me take care of it. i won’t be long, just need to feel you.”

his voice reduces to a mumble, eyebrows knitting together once again, though a wave of relief visibly washes over his expression when i roll my eyes, sighing in -totally forged- annoyance, though he doesn’t recognise that. all he realises is that he is getting something, not even completely sure what, but in this moment, anything at all would be enough for him to release - he is far too desperate to be picky. soon enough, he hauls himself up, hurriedly undoing the button of his oversized jeans and tugging them from his frame, carelessly throwing them onto the floor. and god, if i had thought his problem looked bad through the denim, then i am quickly proven wrong, the firm print of his dick through his boxers almost painfully prominent. his hand brushes against it, the cotton of his underwear now creating more friction, his head falling backward as a low groan sounds from the back of his throat, showing just how sensitive he really is, and now i know that it won’t take a lot to give him what he craves.

he quickly moves to climb on top of me, not getting far as my hand rests flat against his bare chest, halting his movement. his eyebrows furrow in confusion, mouth opening to protest my resistance, though i interject, deciding that if he wants me that badly, then he shouldn’t complain about how he gets me.

“mmm, no. sit back baby, i want to try something.” i whisper, teeth grazing the skin just below his ear, tongue running over it afterward as his eyes flutter open and closed, mouth hanging open with a small smirk on his face. he nods his head quickly, sliding backward until his upper half rests against the headboard, head tilted upward and legs sprawled onto the bed. his hands however, fail to be so still, reaching outward hopelessly and grabbing me by my waist, fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls me on top of him.

he winces loudly once i sit directly on top of his chest, the sound soon turning into a low moan, mouth dropping downward into an ‘o’ shape at the dangerously addictive mix of pain and pleasure that i give him. i smirk in satisfaction at his desperation, finding it almost pitiful, watching intently at the way his eyes flutter, on the verge of closing, though they manage to stay half lidded, soon shooting open when my small fingers make contact with the waistband of his boxers. his breathing becomes more erratic, hands flying to my hips once more, chest rising up and down at an even faster pace. right now, wearing only a small pair of shorts and crop top appears to work perfectly in my favour, and tom’s, as his hands reach to pull the strap down, lips soon attaching themselves to my breast, whilst my own hands move my shorts down my body, tugging tom’s boxers down soon after.

his eyes are fixed on where our bodies connect once i line myself up, sliding down onto him at an agonisingly slow pace, wincing slightly at the feeling of being stretched out, going from being totally empty to so full within the space of a few seconds. tom is way out of it, and had been ever since i began to sink onto him, his mouth uttering low curses and grunts under his breath, nails digging into the flesh of my waist, teeth occasionally digging into his bottom lip.

“fuck schatz, yeah…you’re so tight, so good for me.” he utters when i bottom out, though his satisfaction doesn’t last long, eyes quickly opening once he realises that i am not moving, instead staying still with him still inside of me. he decides against questioning my behaviour, his hips beginning to thrust upwards as a slow pace, incoherent whines leaving his lips as he does so.

“ah ah ah…” i begin, lifting my hips upward and almost completely off of him, hand moving to rest firmly against his chest. he slows his movements, pushing my hips so that he is inside of me once again. “no moving baby, just let me sit. stay still, okay?”

i clench around him unconsciously, moaning quietly as he groans under his breath, clearly holding back from snapping his hips upward again. “fuck baby, you’re fucking killing me, you know that?” he confesses, shaking his head slowly, eyes lustful as they stare into my own, the pools of brown silently communicating exactly what he wants to do, the intent behind them nothing close to innocent. but, no matter how tempting it sounds to let him take control, to reverse the roles and have me pinned beneath him, thrusting in and out of me whilst muttering confirmations of how good i feel, how perfect i am, i enjoy seeing him like this, completely helpless underneath me, begging for something, anything, other than the teasing that i keep up, and i don’t intend on giving in.

“you wanted this, right?” i taunt, lips curving upward into an innocent smile, my thoughts anything but, aware of what i am doing, the frustration that takes over his expression proof of my success. “i thought you wanted me, like this…” my voice is low and suggestive, thick as honey, words as addictive as a drug, and he continues to take them all in. my lips make contact right next to his ear, slowly kissing just below it, digging my teeth in afterward, his hips jolting upward at the sensation. and if that wasn’t enough, when i adjust myself on top of him, moving my lips ever so slightly, that is when he loses it, head quickly rolling backward, mouth dropping open, a deep groan sounding from the back of his throat.

“oh my god, fuck- you’re driving me insane, please just- do something.” his voice is shaky, cut off by small groans, his tongue coming outward to play with his lip ring, flicking the silver metal in small circles, all whilst his eyes never leave my own, the desperation within them never diminishing.

“nope, you’ll live baby.” i state in response, leaning forward and resting my chest against his, wrapping my arm around his frame and sighing nonchalantly, closing my eyes. “i told you i was tired.” as i do so, he shifts his weight underneath me, slightly altering the angle that his dick rests inside of me, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. no matter how much he wants something more, he doesn’t refuse my embrace, wrapping his arms around my back, his hands tracing circles along the bare skin, lifting up my crop top and resting underneath it.

minutes pass like this, my walls clenching around him every so often, getting him just a little more riled up, enough to make him sigh out in pleasure and groan at the feeling of slight relief, though it is never enough to satisfy him, just enough to keep him on the verge of losing his mind, to keep him guessing, waiting for something more than just being inside of me. this feels like more of a punishment than a reward to him, the frustrated groans he lets out only seeming to get louder, though he doesn’t give in, knowing that he could thrust upwards into me - all it would take is a slight movement of his hips and he would have me, yet he holds back, almost testing his own willpower, even though we both know that it is non-existent, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise.

and it doesn’t take long for him to finally reach his breaking point, no longer able to handle just having me here, sitting beneath me helplessly, his mind encouraging him to move, whilst his body is too desperate, too completely needy, to even comply with his unholy thoughts. instead, he voices them as a request, trying once again to elicit something from my own still body.

“kiss me.” he mutters into the silence as my head remains rested in the crook of his neck, hearing slightly muffled. though the quiet doesn’t show it, he is becoming more restless, breathing getting louder and faster, his hold on me tighter, almost inaudible whines sounding from the back of his throat every so often.

“hm?” i mumble half-heartedly, lacking the energy to lift my head upward from where it had been resting, staying still within his embrace instead. my thumbs trace the firmness of his back, travelling over each bump, each muscle, all coated with a thin line of sweat, all of it evidence of just how needy he is for this.

“i said kiss me.” he repeats, somewhere on the verge of desperation and frustration, clearly not willing to let me take control of him anymore. as he speaks, his hand moves from my back, making contact with my chin, using it to lift my head upward so my eyes look straight into his own, faces inches apart. warm and heavy, his breath fans against my face when he speaks, the close proximity and admitted need for him creating a light shade of pink to etch upon my cheeks, though it is nothing compared to the helplessness that tom displays, his words proving it if that isn’t enough. “no more games. just fucking kiss me.”

something inside me snaps. whether it is the close proximity, his enticing gaze, or the time that i have spent on top of him, doing nothing to pleasure either of us, it doesn’t matter anymore. all that i am certain of is that i no longer want to tease him, placing my lips onto his quickly. the kiss is slow and gentle as i initiate it, tom reciprocating it, his shoulders quickly relaxing as he already receives some relief after waiting for so long. though it is too soft, too reluctant, too tender for him. he wants more, and he wastes no time in acting on his desire, pressing his lips more firmly against my own, deepening the kiss and biting down roughly onto my bottom lip as it parts in response, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

and when my hips jolt upwards slightly at his sudden movement, he soon realises that he has me where he wants - still inside of him, and that realisation is all it takes for his hips to snap upwards, thrusting in and out of me at a fast pace. his hands find my lower back, trailing down to my ass and roughly cupping the flesh, using them to quicken his thrusts and allow my bounces to meet them, fingers leaving harsh red marks in place of the soft skin. the distance between our faces only increases beyond a few inches once i let out a loud moan, smiling in satisfaction.

he places one final kiss on my lips, flipping us over in one swift motion whilst staying inside of me. i cry out when his tip hits the sensitive spot inside of me, though i soon play it off, attempting to return my facial expression to something as close as neutral as i can get it - on the inside, i am screaming, silently begging for him to carry on. but he doesn’t. his eyes twinkle with satisfaction, enjoying the way i lay helplessly beneath him, even though moments ago, the roles were completely reversed. he picks up on my attempt to act casual, aware that i am just as desperate as he is, if not more, my entire being transparent, almost pathetically easy to decipher to him.

“this whole nonchalant act doesn’t suit you baby. you can stop acting like you don’t want it, we both know you’ll be screaming in a couple minutes, watch.”

those are the final words he says before reconnecting his lips to mine and speeding up his thrusts, soon proving his bold statement to be nothing short of the truth, making my temporary dominance seem a fragment of my imagination within seconds.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz x reader #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

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inuiiwonderland · 8 months ago

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Twisted captivity

Chapter 1

Twst third years x fem reader

A/n: here is the first chapter of my new series “twisted captivity” !! Again this is a yandere series so it will have some dark themes! Also, the first couple chapters will be more on the short side since It has been a while since I wrote anything and also because of my major writers block and motivation for writing. So I’m taking baby steps rn lol. But I genuinely wanna write this since it’s been on my mind for MONTHS! So enough about my rambling I really hope you guys enjoy this!

Words:766

You walked down the long hallway as Crowley explained to you the rules and things you would be in charge of.

“Since your father told me you’re a researcher, you will be in charge of writing down every detail and interaction you have with the mers and also help us understand more about them and their biology!”

You simply nodded, still not believing that he has REAL mermaids and mermen’s in his care.

“You will also be in charge of feeding them, cleaning and taking care of their tanks! Though do be careful, some of them can be very wary and may attack when they feel threatened!”

“Ah that’s…good to know”

“Great! Now it’s time for you to come meet them so follow me” You followed him as he led you down a long hallway before walking through a double door which led you to a giant lab. In there you can see a big window as people rush in all sorts of directions.

“This is our lab! Here we run all our experiments and test” Your eyes grow wide as you see a couple of people roll in a big cart with an equally large tank which has a mermaid inside.

The poor thing was thrashing around in the tank as she clawed on the glass. The tank must have been made with really strong glass since it didn’t crack or break by how hard the poor thing was banging on it. The cart was rolled to another room, which you did NOT want to know about.

“Don’t worry she’ll be fine”

Something tells you she wouldn’t….

“Come follow me! I’ll show you the less aggressive ones first”

Okay now you were slowly starting to regret this

Maybe you should’ve stayed home and made yourself a good meal as you watched your favorite show. But no, you decided to show up instead.

What if this is all illegal? What if the government or whoever doesn’t even know such a thing exists?! Or maybe Crowley is working for the government?!

As you begin to panic, you accidentally bump into said man as he comes to a stop.

“Sor-“

“We’re here!” You step aside and you stare in awe as you are met with a beautiful sight.

The place looked absolutely gorgeous. It definitely didn’t look like it belonged in a research facility.

The place had a huge waterfall along with some beautiful trees and huge rocks and caves. You noticed a bridge in the center of it all and it had beautiful long vines surrounding it.

This definitely looked like it came from a fairy tale

“Welcome to the heartslabyul enclosure!” He says with a big smile.

“This place is so…”

“Amazing right? I’m glad you think so because I spent millions on this place!”

“Hey Crowley!” You both turned around to see a man with black and white hair. The man looked annoyed as he glared down at Crowley.

“Ah! Crewel! Nice seeing you here today, say why are you here?” The man scowled.

“I work here you idiot”

“Hey now that’s not a good way to talk to your boss! I have a new worker here with me and you can’t make it seem like calling me an idiot is okay!” Crowley says as crewel turns to look at you.

“You should still run while you have the chance” He says which causes Crowley to gasp.

You just awkwardly laugh as crewel and Crowley continue to bicker back and forth. You step away from the two as you decide to explore the area a bit more.

You walk down the bridge and to a small path that leads you to another beautiful part of the area. As you continued exploring, you didn’t notice the pair of eyes that peeked from under one of the lily pads.

Red eyes followed you as you continued to walk down the path.

Weird….never seen her around before

He watches you like a hawk before quickly ducking down as you turn around.

You eye the water curiously

“Weird….could’ve sworn I heard something” As you were about to walk a little closer towards the water, the sound of your name being called made you stop. You look up to see Crowley waving at you from the bridge.

“Come! I have more things to discuss with you in my office!” You just nodded but before you left, you looked back at the water one last time before walking away and to where crowley was.

As you leave, the boy slowly comes back up with curious eyes.

She looks nice….

Again sorry for such a short chapter😓 but as I said, baby steps!

Taglist: @ruisann @roseapov @0ffth3rec0rd @anunholyabomination

Ask if you wanna be put on the taglist!

Also! Reader will have more like a mother/older sister relationship with the 1st and 2nd years! I will explain more as the story goes:)

#inuiiwonderland🤍#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twst x female reader #twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere themes #disney twst #twst crowley #twst crewel #twst heartslabyul #twisted wonderland disney #twst imagines #twst #twisted wonderland x fem reader

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ashlinxsloves · 3 months ago

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-Gimme All Your Lovin'- <Sam Winchester/Reader>

Tags: Sam Winchester/you, Sam Winchester, slight age gap!, Sam's like 24 & the reader is 18, so season 3 Sam, kind of a sibling dynamic?, but not really, Sam knows the reader has a crush on him, kinda self-indulgent lol, I was a Sam girly before Dean and Cas ok?, no y/n, bear with me while I write this, I am having a surge of motivation to write, we all pretend that Dean didn't die at this part, Dean is mentioned, slight change of plans, there might be a bit of angst lol, I don't know how that happened, but oh well.

Summary: You were starting to gain feelings for Sam, and you didn't know what to do about it. It was beginning to strain your relationship with him..

Notes: You read the tags, you know what you're in for :] this is purely self-indulgent lol... We have Sassy Sammy though ;3 Also, semi-beta read, I was on auto mode when writing this lolol

Word count: 3.1k

Title from Gimme All Your Lovin' by ZZ Top

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"Can we not turn the music on right now..? I'm tryna look for a case here," Sam looks at you with a tired expression. He was in the backseat, skimming through a newspaper.

"Don't be a sourpuss, Sammy. Let the kid put on some tunes, maybe then it'll loosen you up enough to get that stick out of your ass," Dean snickered, nodding at you as you turned on some Bon Jovi, making Sam groan in annoyance when you turned the volume up.

"Come on, Sammy, don't be a killjoy and enjoy the music," you pouted, clearly trying to rile him up. He rolled his eyes going back to the newspaper. You watched him from the rear-view mirror, admiring how dopey yet handsome he looked in the backseat, focused on looking for a case.

Dean elbowed you, causing you to look away from Sam and at him, giving you a 'you're staring for too long' look. You cleared your throat awkwardly, face turning into a pinkish hue, making Dean chuckle. Sam looked up from the paper, confused yet curious about what was happening in the front seat.

You accidentally made eye contact, making you turn even more red, turning the volume of the music louder to try and cover up the awkward tension. Sam sighed, not expecting you to turn on the music any louder.

While listening to the music, you zoned out thinking about some of your past hunts with Sam and Dean - well, you're mostly thinking about Sam and the times he saved your ass from becoming mince meat from the monsters you've fought. You know you shouldn't have grown a crush on him but it's not like you could control it! Sam was kind, tall, smart and protective. You just had to be a sucker for guy's like that huh..?

But Sam only saw you like a little sister and you knew that. The ruffles on the head, motivating you and supporting you was out of brotherly love. Nothing more, nothing less.

The car stops, taking you out of your trance, and Dean pulls over at a diner, "I'm gonna go take a leak and get some pie, don't do anything nasty while I'm gone," he winked at you, causing you to groan and shooting him a glare. Once he left, the car was filled with Dean's music playing softly in the background and the newspaper rustling every time Sam changed a page.

Out of pure habit, you started to pick on the skin of your nails - it was a thing you usually did when you were overthinking. Sam seemed to notice, grabbing your left hand before it started bleeding.

Sam checked on your fingers, his touch making you nervous as you pulled your hand away, your heartbeat quickening, "I'm fine, Sammy.."

You grumbled, pulling your knees up to your chest. He wasn't really convinced but let it go for now. Sam knew of your feelings, but he just wasn't over Jess. That type of hurt took time to heal and you knew that. You both did.

"Just stop picking at it, okay? I don't want you to bleed," he said your name in a soft tone, making you look at him. He had a small warm smile, his head tilted to the side - it made him look like a cute puppy, and it made your heart swell. You just gently nodded, quietly waiting for Dean to come back.

Once you got to a motel, you plopped your duffle bag on the bed, groaning tiredly... why did you have to gain these feelings for Sam?

It was frustrating, but you couldn't do anything about it. You were just a kid in his eyes. Or what you told yourself at least.. there was just no way he'd actually gain feelings for you.

Deciding to take a quick shower, you got your towel from your bag, not trusting the towels they gave you at the motel. Before you could enter the bathroom though, someone knocked on your door, making you pause. Opening the door, your breath slightly hitched when you saw Sam, his hair damp, smelling like soap and citrus.

"Oh, uh, hey– what's up?" you asked the tall male in front of you while letting him into your motel room.

"Just checking in on you... wanted to make sure you were okay," he murmured, his voice gentle as he sat down on your bed before noticing that you were holding your towel and shower products, "Oh– were you about to shower? I could leave and come back later-"

"No- no, no, no.. you're good," you smiled at him, hanging your towel on a nearby chair and the shower products on a table. You sat on the further corner of the bed, avoiding sitting near him while you were still frustrated with your current feelings for the caring dumbass who was in your room right now, smelling like fresh squeezed citrus and leather, with his hair sticking to his forehead from how damp it was.

Sam could feel that there was something wrong with you, but he wasn't sure how he should address it. Something just tugged at his chest when he saw you picking on your nails like you did in the car, being so closed off like you used to when you two first met.

"Sam, this is.." Dean introduced you to Sam about one and a half years ago, your father dying on one of the hunts you were involved in. You knew Dean from the past hunts he was in with you and your dad, and when you called him, voice hoarse and heaving he knew something was wrong. When he found out your father had died from saving you, his heart clenched, knowing that you'd be carrying this with you for your whole life, blaming yourself for his death. Dean knew you didn't have other family members present in your life, your mother abandoning you from a young age, leaving you with your father.

He understood how you felt – losing a parent to a monster- well, demon in his case, but he knew the feeling all too well. So, he took you in and you taught the ropes more thoroughly, making Sam teach you what they both knew. It was pretty easy to teach you since you already knew the basics but sometimes Sam felt like something was missing when you listened and paid attention to what he was saying.

Sam noticed how quiet and how you kept to yourself a lot and when you would start opening up, you immediately closed up like a clam. Dean explained the situation to him and Sam understood immediately what he had to do. And from that day, he tried his best to get you to get out of your shell, get you to open up and let your guard down around him. It was hard but worth it. You were worth it.

That's when Sam realized how expressive and passionate a person you were. The way you talked fondly about the things you liked, about random facts you learnt from your father and how fondly you remembered your old man. He felt special somehow, that he made you cope with the death of your father in more healthy ways than keeping emotions buried deep inside you.

"You know... I always think about how closed off you were when we first met," Sam started, not knowing where he was going with this, "you just answered me in grunts or one-word answers. It was kind of frustrating," he chuckled softly, shaking his head before looking at you. He noticed how you looked at him with a confused expression before continuing, "I just– well, I just wanted to say that it was worth it. All of it. Agreeing to teach you how to hunt better, keep you safe and get you to open up to me. It was all worth it."

He moved closer to you and took your hand into his, noticing the new wounds on your fingers. Sam sighed knowing he couldn't stop you from picking on your skin when he wasn't around, so he always carried some band-aids in his pockets. He took two out of his pocket and started gently tending to your fingers. You bit on your cheek, still not understanding why he came to your room.

Were you that obvious, or was Sam just good at reading you? It was probably the latter, you were an open book in front of him. Once he was done tending to your small but painful wounds, you squeezed his hand before looking at him and hesitating to say what you were about to say, "What- I mean, where are you going with this Sam?"

When the question was out in the air, silence followed for a minute but it felt like hours before Sam spoke, "I.. I know you have feelings for me," his voice was gentle and slightly strained.

You were that obvious, huh.

You pulled your hand away from him, feeling as if your skin burned just by being close to him right now. You shouldn't have opened the door. You could've pretended to not hear the knock and just showered. But no, you just had to let Sam in. Sometimes ignorance was really bliss. If you had just known where this conversation was leading. It could've been avoided, but now you had to sit there, your whole body sensitive and senses heightened as you felt his gaze on you. The room felt small, too small.

You couldn't breathe.

Were you really going to have a panic attack just from Sam addressing your growing feelings towards him? It was pathetic, stupid and careless. You should've just kept to yourself. Goddammit, Sam. He could've kept his mouth shut and not continued this conversation.

"Please– please get out," you managed to choke out, standing up abruptly. You couldn't deal with this right now. Not now. Not ever. Sam looked at you with a pained expression, knowing you were closing up and not letting him in. He sat there for a few more seconds before getting up, "I'll– I'll leave you alone for now. Come to our room later for dinner, okay?"

You gave him a curt nod, heading to the bathroom with your things and taking a cold shower. Even when you drowned yourself in the icy water, your whole body felt like it was grimy, sticky and hot. Every pore oozed with insecurity, embarrassment and guilt. After a while you got out, drying your wet hair with your towel and getting dressed. As much as you didn't want to confront your feelings and talk to Sam about it, you had to go to their room for food. It's been a long day and you were starving.

"–So, I had to bargain with that old Vietnamese man to give me three more tempura shrimps for five dollars," Dean was telling Sam and you about what happened when he was out for food, but you weren't paying much attention, stabbing your plastic fork on the stir-fried chicken on your plate. Your eyes stung from how much you cried in the shower, silently hoping that it wasn't obvious.

Knowing Sam, he definitely noticed, nudging your leg under the table to get your attention. You didn't bother looking up before he nudged you harder, accidentally nudging the table too and making Dean notice the tension he was oblivious to earlier.

"Okay, what is going on with you two?" His eyebrows furrowed, making Sam clench his jaw and making you tense up. You weren't ready. Not yet, you begged in your mind still looking down at your half-eaten dinner. The room felt chilly even with the long sleeves you were wearing. Dean knew about your feelings towards Sam and he teased you sometimes about it, but not around him.

The air was thick, and the lump in your throat was preventing you from speaking. Sam sat up straight, clearing his throat before answering Dean, "It's nothing, we're fine, right?"

He looked at you expectantly, even if he knew that it wasn't really okay between you two. As much as you didn't want to look up from your food and just go to your room and sleep, you looked up, glancing at Sam for a fraction of a second before looking at Dean and giving him a small nod. You got up from the table and threw your leftovers in the trash, your appetite was pretty much lost and you just couldn't bear to be around Sam right now.

"I'm going to my room," your voice thick, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat and feeling tears prick your eyes. Sam was about to stop you but before he could, you already closed the door to their room.

"You should talk to her, Sammy.. you started this shit and I don't wanna be shot in the crossfire. I told you it was a bad idea and that you should give her time to process–" Dean looked at his baby brother, drinking a beer while Sam moped on his bed.

"Do you think I don't know that, Dean? I– I just.. I don't wanna give her false hope– or whatever I'm doing.." Sam trailed off, rubbing his hand across his face out of slight frustration towards his brother. As much as he wasn't over Jess' death, he couldn't ignore your feelings towards him. It was painfully obvious and he thought it was... cute. He liked it when you smiled at him or when you clung to him. It was those small things that tugged at his chest, realizing how much he needed to be around you, protect you and want to prevent what happened to Jess from happening to you. Sam wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something like that happened to you too.

Just imagining it hurt him physically, his heart squeezing in his chest uneasily. But there he was in his shared motel room with his brother, sulking instead of talking to you. Not seeing you hyper and happy felt wrong, like taking out the sun in the middle of the day or kicking a puppy. He sighed, running his hand through his hair before getting up from his bed and earning a chuckle from Dean.

"Go get'em, Tiger," Sam grunted, flipping Dean off before leaving their room and heading to your room. He really should've thought through what he had to say to you. What happened in your room earlier seemed like he was trying to confront you–which he was–but he didn't mean it maliciously. You probably took it as a sign of rejection and felt horrible. He noticed during dinner how pink your nose was and how puffy your eyes were.

When he was about to knock on your door, you suddenly opened it, flinching slightly when you saw him standing there. Sam looked down at you, smiling awkwardly as he retracted his hand away, "I was about to knock– I mean, can we talk?"

He fumbled with his words, hoping you'd let him in and talk. However, when you stepped out of the room, it confused him and was about to ask before you cut him off, "I'm gonna go get ice.. we can talk in the car."

You grumbled, walking towards the ice machine and getting a scoop of ice into your ice pack. After you filled it up, the two of you headed to the Impala, with you sitting in the passenger seat and Sam sitting in the driver's seat. You held the ice pack on your lap, feeling the coolness of it on your trouser-covered thighs.

"Listen, about what I said in your room–" Sam darted his tongue out, licking his lips before continuing, "It's.. it's not what you think I meant. I wasn't trying to reject your feelings."

You listened as he continued explaining himself, playing with the hem of your sleeve, "I understand the way you feel, I really do, but– but I just can't risk you," he reached out for your hand hesitantly and when you didn't flinch, Sam gently took your hand into his and squeezed. He wanted you to look at him– no, he needed you to. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he did love you in his way, he liked you in the same way you did even if he denied it to himself.

"Look at me, please," he pleaded, his voice filled with need and desperation, "I can't live with myself if you die the same way Jess did. I don't want to lose you too. You mean too much to me."

"You mean too much to me."

Those words hit harder than anything. You looked at Sam, eyes filled with unshed tears, lower lip quivering. Everything felt too surreal, it was like you were watching everything unfold from outside your body.

"I know– I know it's hard right now, and I really suck at this whole feelings stuff, but I wanna make it up to you somehow. I wanna make it work between us, and we'll make it work.. but not right now. I promise we'll work through this together and figure it out in the future-" he wiped a few stray tears with his thumb, his hand cupping your face.

"I just wanna see you smile for me again. I don't want to be the reason you cry or be the reason you're upset," he whispered as you sniffled, still not saying a word and letting him talk his heart out. You were crying while being held by the person you've liked for the past seven months. It felt like a dream to you. All this time you thought Sam wouldn't gain feelings for you and here he was telling you that he wanted to work it out in the future and wanting to be the reason you smiled.

You cleared your throat slightly, moving your hand from the ice pack and onto his hand, making him flinch from how cold your palm was, making you giggle groggily, "You can make it up to me by pranking Dean."

"Deal," he smiled and kissed your forehead, wiping the rest of your tears away.

The next morning, Sam and you went to get some breakfast, deciding that waffles and coffee would be a good choice to eat. The two of you came back snickering when you saw a fuming Dean in the car, unable to move his hands from the wheel. You decided that it was a good idea to put some superglue on the steering wheel. Sam knew that Dean would catch on quickly after, so you two decided to get breakfast first.

"You two are so dead!" He grunted before giving up on trying to get himself free. You got into the passenger seat and Sam went into the back, fist-bumping you, "I liked it better when you two didn't get along," Dean muttered before driving and letting you handle the gearstick while he drove.

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pls reblog and like :] I'd be happy if you did!!!

#ashlinxloves #ashlinxloves' fics #Sam Winchester #Sam winchester x you #Sam Winchester fluff #Sam Winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #Sam Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester fic #Dean Winchester

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richeeduvie · 4 months ago

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Birds of a Feather || PART TWO

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

TWO: Take It From The Top Darkish!Aaron Hotchner x Reader

-- PART ONE -- RICHEEDUVIE'S MASTERLIST --

How you got onto the team. When it was over for him, and as tragedies and love stories go, it's always at the beginning. Aaron knew it even then, the way he was thinking about this woman who he just met - the way his head twisted slight attraction into...not so much more. Aaron can always convince himself, for the sake of you and team and his mind, that it's nothing at all.

But this is only the beginning, even then, he knew it was going to get worse as the months went on.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

5K WORDS

WARNING: Same as Part One. Slow burn? Mentions of death, violence, things of a graphic nature. Criminal minds stuff. pre-Jealous, possessive, and overprotective Hotchner. Entitled behavior. Toxic thought process, not behavior and relationships yet. OC!Hotch sorta cause I don't think he'd turn into this crazy of a person, but reader's just that hot lol. More tags to come maybe cause Hotch is only going to get worse. Maybe reader POV next part?

BCS AND SUCC SUCC GIRLIES I'M SORRY MY MOM IS MAKING ME REWATCH CRIMINAL MINDS AND SHE'S JUST GOTTEN SURGERY, YOU CAN'T BLAME A WOMAN WHO HAS GOTTEN SURGERY...You should be thinking Hotch Daddy any writing motivates me to write about Princesa chugging Lalo's cock down her throat, or a mewling Roman.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Six Months Earlier. Following The Day You Met The Team.

As you got around to reading about him, Hotch got around to reading about you in his hotel room, just an hour and a half away from his actual home. It was easier to ignore the way you looked in the station, the bright ray of life that was searing in your smile. It was also too easy to ignore how ridiculous it is to feel that way about a person, a young woman he just met.

But the others saw it too.

It didn’t take an FBI profiler to know that you have a habit of…brightening the world around you. When he didn’t know you all that well, it was a fact. Barely interesting at most. There isn’t a need for, and yes, it’s a juvenile description, but a bubbly person…bubbling when three women are dead and there’s supposed to be two more on the way. But it doesn’t take away from anything, the same way Garcia’s demeanor never takes away the fact that she gets the job done every time.

It didn't take FBI agents to see what you were. Young, bright, and extremely talented when it came to your work. An ebullient woman at her most nervous. You were there helping them and in that, he saw his team become bright themselves under the way you spoke. Even when you curse a bit too much under your breath, the one thing they would learn goes against your wholesomeness, things like that and your general self-deprecation, your inward agitation, they all found it endearing.

Aaron would not. He would not find anything platonically endearing as much as he did not find those sorts of things attractively endearing. But maybe now, it’s those things he takes as reason to see you as a person to protect, to shelter.

In the six months he’s had you on the team, you’ve proven you’re more than capable of protecting yourself, that a bubbly, kind personality doesn’t mean defenselessness. With time passing, Aaron has slowly cared less and less about attempting not to see you as the opposite for his own selfish reasons.

But if they’re there, he doesn’t know what the reasons are. If he can’t, isn’t it more likely for you to be more defenseless and in need of safety than you seem? But it shouldn’t matter, either way. He won’t do anything with it.

Won’t act on anything.

A profile (which is what people call them actually, he's sure) in the New Yorker is objectively impressive. Aaron can't beat around that.

It was bare when it came to the personal aspects of your life, nothing much outside of your self-subsistent career. At the time, it felt disrespectful of a talented, well-meaning and investigative stranger to press thought onto the parts that detailed questions and paragraphs of your familial issues with your previous partner, family in general - bits of it went into questioning on how it affected your career, your desire to help people, even your obvious and innate skill on empathic investigation. Aaron wished he could say there was no reason to ask those questions. With morals? There was every reason not to go there, but in his career, he makes those relations day after day.

No, he did not press on it.

Name, age. A more detailed version of what you gave when you met the team. He did not press thought onto the little personal aspects that were given.

‘In scribblings on blogs and smaller articles, there’s always the implication that the reason why Girl Sherlock is so motivated within her work is that said motivation is a result of her past issues surrounding her family, particularly with her father and ex-boyfriend, Anthony. When pushed on this, the young investigator makes sure to make no comment of substance.’

“There’s nothing there that would help people realize who I am and why I do what I do.”

‘Out of respect, I do not ask further. Out of the need for the truth, more in-depth research done after the actual interview leads to records of her parent’s divorce papers. Family-wise, there is not much information that can be found besides the separation of the mother and father. But, it’s the multiple domestic violence charges against Anthony Bogosian that bring concern. There was no conviction. Though the assumption is that the general audience of her work as well as this profile is an audience not made up of private profilers, it doesn’t take much to assume that if Girl Sherlock was the recipient of abuse, it would explain why she especially takes to cases of a domestic nature.’

The actual day, the first one with you went smoothly. There would not be a chance where the team didn’t make a comment on you the moment you left the room.

“I lost my red-bottom heel at a bar called Charm’s Chamber when I was twenty-six.”

“I’m not that much older, but when I was twent-”

“We know which degree you finished earning while at the BAU when you were her age, Reid.”

Reid went silent after Emily’s needed interruption.

“Three serial killers. Or…what she thought was three at first, doing all that? Bringing this here?” Derek’s leanback was a gesture to the table, the files. “It’s crazy, and were these all cases the FBI rejected?”

Aaron saw the way J.J’s eyes and its blue shift were a flinch in a way. He didn’t blink as he stood to look at the board. “There were cases I thought took priority, I mean…I remember the Wyoming Skinner but we had-I mean…I don’t know how we, I didn’t go back on it-”

“It’s not your fault, don’t dwell on it.”

He could imagine J.J looking at him. “Yeah, J.J. I didn’t mean to call you out. It’s not your fault there’s too many psychos across the states, we’ve seen it. But I don’t know how I haven’t heard of her, a private investigator can have their hits, I know some who were former feds but this? I was reading up on her-”

“Me too.”

“I already knew.”

“It’s crazy, man. It’s a real help anyway. But a big accusation, one killer with three northern state personas - with different signatures. But she explained.”

That you did. Well and nervous. Aaron could see how you took Rossi’s word, but the bite of your lips, the slow-down of your fingers tapping unevenly on the table.

“You can take it slow.”

Rossi’s compassion for his team has always worked better than his spitefulness towards an unsub.

He turned away from the board. Then they were looking at you just outside of the station, on the ground squatting in search of a hairclip.

“She explained.”

He still doesn’t understand how you could’ve been so caught up in looking for it. And Aaron didn’t know the team thought he was going to say more.

“...Hotch?”

He turned away.

They were all just looking at him.

“But Morgan’s right, it is a big accusation. I think we’ll have to find more substantial evidence that can prove it could be the same unsub. I already have Garcia working on similar cases in Ohio and Montana in general, more vague research. We have to start big.”

He turned back, your hair was falling over. He didn’t sigh, but he felt like he should’ve. You were getting your hands dirty.

“Should somebody help her?”

It was Morgan again.

“I’ll go, I’ve been meaning to ask her what she meant when she described her investigative method as ‘interpreting the evidence’.”

Reid went quickly, leaving his messenger bag behind. Aaron turned back to the group, he watched Emily and she shuffled through the files.

“Well, even though I think she meant her method was a glorified version of profiling, it’s all impressive. I mean…this is, I don’t mean to fawn…we’ve had good men and women in stations all over who knew how to do their job and do it more than well but she’s done all of this alone and she does it as if it’s a door-to-door salesman sort of deal.”

Emily put that slight and dragging emphasis on every sixth to seventh word as she leaned over the table.

He remembers thinking then, that maybe he did press a little. Aaron thought that Garcia most definitely could’ve done a better job finding out about your life than that New Yorker journalist could’ve done about you.

“It’s obvious she’s very skilled. But we haven’t seen her out in the field.”

There was silence that he didn’t know meant something, Rossi’s eyes meeting Morgan’s. J.J’s meeting Prentiss’s.

“Out in the field? I don’t think she’s even been out in the field, she’s a talented investigator with what looks to be a budget of seventy dollars, not an official agent in training.”

Aaron pressed his middle finger to the tip of his thumb, eyes unblinking at Rossi leaned back in his chair.

“Are we taking her out for investigational interviews…or to wherever the unsub drops the next victim if he has a chance?”

They were all staring at him. Again. To him.

“If she came out from San Diego to be here and if she’s been allowed on three cases where victims were being skinned, decapitated, brutalized, then there shouldn’t be the assumption she can’t handle what we’ll find here. She’s come here to make a stretched accusation, she’ll make herself useful.

It came out harsher than expected. Not in tone, every word is punctual, calm as Aaron makes them, maybe slightly lower. But the words themselves were nearly demeaning. He didn’t know why. There was nothing about your cheerful, bloomed nature that he came to resent yet. Maybe it was how Hotch himself came to be, a man already cold and colder and closed off due to everything and everything, so a beautiful woman who smiled too much, who managed to get Doctor Spencer Reid on the concrete was someone his brain immediately chose to be more cautious around. Showing any other personality that wasn’t stoic, but not unkind would not be suitable.

Maybe his subconscious was already trying to save himself from the beginning.

“There goes his germophobia.”

“It doesn’t take a lot to get a man doing something he’d never think to do for a woman he thinks is pretty.”

Prentiss scoffed, arms crossed with a stare on Morgan. “He’s known her for twenty minutes.”

“It usually takes less.”

The women of the team shook their heads, a humorous and semi-truth from Rossi that Hotch guessed they agreed with, but Prentiss’s head gestured towards the station’s door. “She’s…bubbly. With the mouth of a sailor.”

His exact description. He followed her stare to the doorway, Reid was there. He couldn’t fault the younger agent on his team for thinking you were pretty. It was amusing as well, to see Reid with his knees digging into the concrete. Good exercise for him, really - and it was even more amusing to see him so readily open…almost in admiration for Girl Sherlock.

When Hotch thinks of this memory, it’s near-guilt. What he felt at the sight of you and you and Spencer was humorous amusement, it didn't feel that way.

There’s less near-guilt when he feels like he should blame you.

“Let’s move before she loses something else.”

Aaron didn’t mean it as a joke, but with the way he saw the team react, it’s like he did - which usually when he does, they always act as if it’s the first time he’s ever made one. But they went, Rossi pulling on Reid’s ear on the way out.

A smile from you to each profiled passing by, a clip now in your hair.

Why couldn’t he look away?

A smile up at him.

“Are you willing to come with us to the dumpsite?”

Eyes widening and the smile up at him. A pretty girl who has nothing to smile about, but it was exciting to you, he guesses. Aaron can’t remember if it was ever exciting to him, the means of the job were always just a duty, even when he was younger.

“Yes, I’d be honored - or…not…it’s dumpsite so not particularly excited that it’s happening, but-”

“You’ll take the car with me and Rossi.”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

And like the stereotypical mimicry that exists when you stand in front of someone so open - objectively attractive, he nodded too.

His eyes flickered.

“Hotch…or Hotchner will do. But if you’re used to sir, I can’t stop you.”

That was the first time he talked to you outside of when you met him. It was met with another smile.

“No figure of authority has ever been able to stop me.”

Hotch was sure you meant that to be a joke, and he gave it to you. It was funny. You’re a funny girl. You know how to light the room up even without an intentional joke, which you might find a negative - when your cursing or stumbled ramblings end in someone else’s laughter. But it’s not, it could never be. He’s sorry enough that he doesn’t give in more often, nothing more than a small, sly smile.

Like the one he gave then.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Aaron flexed his hand in the hotel bed, it was 2:12am. In a few days, you were found to be right about the killers being a singular monster. One for no particular reason other than a dangerous mix of sadism and psychopathy. A man born in Montana who traveled the northern states for his job, and with each state - five women were to be killed. In all the Northern U.S states. Every single one.

There was difficulty in finding him to be that one unsub because in his words….in his words,

“I wanted to, I could. I did.”

Michael Bakalova. The Akron Phantom, the Wyoming Skinner, the Northwind Killer. When the news broke of his capture, the outlets named him the North American Butcher. Those were names Hotch didn’t want to remember, he was to go against the news cycle and the grain and remember his victims because he knows there’s more outside of what they found. But he thought of Michael Bakalova and what he said when they caught him.

Those women weren’t surrogates, not one was a target of his rage for a reason other than he wanted to, he could. He did. But in the brutality, there wasn’t any rage, no.

Pure satisfaction, bliss. It’s what Aaron couldn’t find even after they caught him. But they found that sort of reaction in the kills with you at the station, team in a circle. Penelope on the screen.

“I see we’re just letting any cutie waltz right into a case, huh?”

“Garcia.”

“Sorry, sorry, Boss! I’m Penelope.”

“What did you find?”

Aaron doesn’t know when he doesn’t have his arms crossed or straight at his sides. But you were there before you went to look for that clip of yours and your eyes would meet his. And Aaron…he’s lucky enough that he feels that it’s absurd that he prides himself in the way he doesn’t bash and turn away like a schoolboy. That pride acknowledges there’s something in his hands and chest when he looks at you, and feels it’s absurd is self-awareness.

You always turn away first. He won’t ever be the first one to look away.

“I like your pink pen edging into view.”

“She has a similar one.”

They looked to him. You looked to him, eyes wide and bright. That’s all you, you can’t force that type of light to shine. Heaven knows he tried with Haley, for her. To let up on his serious nature, it was easier earlier in their relationship, it’s easy with Jack. But you make figurative gleaming seem like there’s nothing to it.

But sometimes, in the dark, Aaron thinks about you and realizes that the light can’t be figurative, that he sees it on your skin and through your clothes. In your smile, it’s why he can’t look away.

“...I didn’t pull that one out.”

The fluffy blue pen that hid in your bag, Aaron could make the deduction that you, already nervous and having presumably little experience with federal agencies and this area of professionalism, that that pen would not be suitable, it would demean you by looks alone. And he doesn’t know why…to put it objectively, called you out.

“It’s peeking out of your bag.”

But Garcia’s presence let you know a pen that’s fluffy is more than okay. And…Aaron wanted that out of his presence too, though he still thinks that’s unnatural. It’s not possible when you’re you in the saw and he’s him in crossed arms.

“Sir…I don’t know how to respond to that, because that has never happened before - so yes, what I’ve found-”

Moth to a flame, bird into the sun. Something he’ll forget he thought about himself to convince himself that there are no feelings. There is nothing different about you.

Michael Bakalova and his names and names made Aaron’s chest break back against his lungs every time he took a breath, it made him feel like he would drown in the sheets - but then he’d flex his hand and unfortunately, a breath would let up when the movement would trigger the memory of helping you over a step.

“Thank you, Sir Hotchner.”

It wasn’t a joke, you brought your voice to a lower tone. You meant to call him that with maturity.

Amusing girl.

Soft hands, kind squeezes so carefully that Aaron can assume that you think you’ll somehow hurt him. That’s not possible. Not just because you’re you, but he’s him…

What could you do that’d hurt him? Nothing, he’s sure. Maybe if he could think of things, he wouldn’t view you as defenseless as he does. But Aaron knows he’s wrong in that too.

They couldn’t have done it without you. Ignoring the unfortunate name Girl Sherlock, you were extremely talented. Are. But then, to see you in your element and in the field. You were natural within the investigative questioning when it came to people relevant to the victims. The questions and insights you had at the dumpsites (Talent and passion didn’t defeat the fact they needed Michael Bakalova to kill another victim while they were on the case to find him, it never does).

You were amazing. And the sun shined down on you well. You take light in well.

“You can take off that coat.”

He didn’t see the way Rossi’s head tilted his way, eyes slightly smaller. A thought growing in smugness. You smiled.

Aaron looked at the grass under his shoe, there was mud on leather. There was dirt on your knees. Why are you getting yourself dirty when you don’t have to? What’s so important about a clip that you brown the softness of your hands? Where did you learn that that was okay? That it was okay to take the help of strangers? Reid, a good, overzealous and well-meaning stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

He stared right into you, unsmiling. His suggestion was genuine and unhumorous, but you brightened under the sun nonetheless.

“It’s cold. That’s Virginia's fault. Not mine. But thank you. And this, obviously it’s miles - across state lines but I’m telling you, if you look at the dumpsites in Wyoming, Ohio, and Montana. It’s nearly the same. Country-like backroads. They’re all distant from each other, but it’s an area he feels comfortable in. That couldn’t be just chance.”

“But change in signature, that means we need to make up for that assumption with more evidence.”

His head followed yours as you looked around.

“It has breaks in between, there’s no physical evidence to say he’s just picking a method of kill and torture to have fun with it…but it’s not like it’s different with each victim. Five decapitated one state, five skinned in another.”

You were looking towards a tree, and it would’ve only been you to know that that tree made a difference, you were there three states before.

“What is it?”

“..I’ll be back.”

He remembers the way he and Rossi looked at each other while you were off with a confused-looking police officer.

“So this is what Arthur Conan Doyle was going on about.”

“Dave.”

“Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sorry, Sir Hotchner.”

Aaron nearly glared. Rossi and him slowly made their way towards you.

“Think of it, we’re Scotland Yard. Have you talked to her officially? Besides when she greeted us and when you asked her to come with us.”

“What do you think there is to talk to her about? Officially and alone?”

“I don’t know, I think she’s an interesting case. I like her, she’d be a good fit. Reid can give you a detailed recommendation, apparently.”

“It’s a lot, and she’s just a consultant. We’ve had those before, she is…unique. It’s admirable, but it’s a stretched suggestion.”

“You’ve used that word twice today, and I do understand. But I don’t know why you would say it as if you haven’t been observing her like this case is her pre-BAU assessment.”

Aaron stepped over a leaf. “Have you taken to her, David?”

“...Wouldn’t hurt to have another nice newbie agent around. Work on the lectures and lessons through someone who needs it.”

“You mean a fan?”

“Oh, she knows you too. Remember?”

He wouldn’t indulge Rossi with a slight smile and softening on a brow with that one as they met up with you.

“Before I ramble on again, I apologize for the rambling and the murder exposition vomit back at the station. I don’t mean to toot my own horn - or use the word toot but I am proud of my work…but you guys are the agents, I could’ve just thrown you the papers and you would’ve gotten here with me.”

“Nevermind that, kid. We’ve had worse. Speaking of which, if Reid comes at you again with his tangents, don’t be afraid to tell him to stop. Or walk away.”

Aaron remembered Reid’s ramblings, ones that were fascinating, not in topic - but to see Spencer believe you’d be interested in what he had to say, another person around his age with interests he knew…from your online, blogging persona. The team saw you.

“Nightmare on Elm Street was actually inspired by Wes Craven reading the news. Throughout 1981, the Los Angeles Times ran a series of articles about otherwise healthy Laotian refugees who had mysteriously died in their sleep, apparently after experiencing violent nightmares-”

“Reid.”

He saw you.

Of course, he didn’t give you a gun and let you on a chase through streets for a serial killer even though he’s sure Rossi would’ve let you if given the chance.

He didn’t let you anywhere near Michael when it came down to catching him. And that was right, what he said gave him reason to let you on a plane back to San Diego, despite the team’s (Rossi’s knowing eyes, Reid not so obvious obvious platonic gushings over you) want to let you have at the BAU, despite Hotch himself knowing if he give someone a chance, it’d be you. But Hotch tries to forget about what he said, because he didn’t let you go home to San Diego. And he’s finding himself more of a fool every time he convinces himself that it was for the team.

It was for the team.

But the one who brought the case together for the team sat at the police station, waiting patiently to see if the case she worked so hard on for months, through victims and victim’s parents, loved ones.

“It’s over?”

He nodded.

“It’s over.”

And in the fluorescent lights of the station, he saw your smile as he did and has and will a thousand times over. But it wasn't genuine. The cases you worked so hard on, the passion you put in to bring families closure - not out of government duty with a team that’s family, but instead alone…there was no closure for you. You weren’t satisfied.

You were like them at the end of every other case.

“I have to stop through Wyoming. And Ohio. And Montana. I need to tell those families in person, they’ve probably already caught the news but…I think it’ll do good. Or maybe it’s selfishness, because I know I have to.”

His head lowered slightly. “It’s not selfish. Those families came to you, you became attached to their closure. You deserve to let that in with them as much as families do.”

You nodded, but then you disagreed. “Maybe a little less than them?”

Aaron took a pause. You asked like he would change his mind on what he just said.

Amusing. Taunting. Teasing.

Maybe he was thinking your smile was cheekier than it was, because what would it mean that you would do that to him? That you liked him then? No, not you. Not a young, beautiful woman who sees he doesn’t smile or laugh because it’s not the job, it’s not just him and he won’t indulge you. Not when you just met him and you know he’s a widower with a six year old son.

It’s that, or it’s just that you were having your fun. He wouldn’t appreciate that.

Not at all.

He didn't think of his slight smile through then. He couldn’t, you were in front of him - he wasn’t in bed flexing a hand.

“Maybe a little less, then.”

And there was silence between the both of you, but the world around kept itself busy because the team was all over, exhausted. There was still paperwork to do, reporters everywhere. But Hotch can’t remember how it just got to be the two of you.

He pressed his middle finger into his thumb, trying to mimic a heartbeat because it was fatuous, the way his heart sped up.

You’re just a talented woman that would make a great profiler. But he would have to think logically. He did in the moment. Maybe it’s an exaggeration to say he knew from the start that you would be on his team, there were slew of issues to expand on. One, the fact that you weren’t an FBI agent. You (according to your New Yorker profile) had no law enforcement experience to begin with. You didn’t live in Virginia. You were twenty-six. Reid was barely thirty but he had five degrees or so to make up for it. And heart.

You had heart. He could see it, smile or not.

Aaron remembers making the choice to turn his head away from you.

“So…is the BAU hiring?”

It snapped back. So quickly to the point where it caught your smile dropping.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was-that was a joke-”

“Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

“...Really, I-”

“It’s alright. Let’s go back.”

And his hand just hovered over your back. It’s not like he’d feel the way your back curved under the coat you wore for the whole case. Hotch didn’t, still doesn’t want to realize that he would’ve let his hand touch, actually touch if it was anyone else - but with you, this woman with her hair behind her ears - the one who waited patiently at the station and watched aimfully as Michael Bakalova passed her and into a cell. It felt like it would’ve been disrespectful.

The thoughts towards you aim differently than everyone else, even then. His touch would make his heart beat quicker and he would think about the one moment where he did touch you. Over and over in his hotel room, then in his own bed.

And it was as if the thoughts would’ve shifted further down if he did touch the small of your back.

But Aaron should’ve, because it didn’t matter anyway. The thoughts shifted down nonetheless, and they do with every passing night and smile. Your smiles have to be natural, effortless - unknowing and naive to what it does to him, which wouldn’t be your fault, his face and stern lines never give way.

But if the smiles aren’t, the giggles, the head tilts, if they are not naive and defenseless and in need of protection and are instead purposeful flirtations, moments where you revel in making him suffer and harden…Aaron will not appreciate it at all. He will not tolerate that sort of behavior. That won’t get past him.

And he wouldn’t put punishing you past him.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Then you smiled at him.

He led you up to your hotel room, a fortunate coincidence that you took the same hotel the tema did, Aaron didn’t have the means or awareness to think those kinds of thoughts.

He was trying to remember when he saw a face he couldn’t stop staring at. Maybe never, but hopefully not never. Maybe Jack. and for the sake of Haley, for the sake that at that moment, you were supposed to be just a woman, hopefully not never.

“Have a nice night.”

“You too, Sir.”

Nice wasn’t what he would describe the night he had before they left for Quantico. You, Aaron, both were lucky they didn’t have to catch the plane. He closed his eyes, opened them - stared into the ceiling with one hand flexing and fingers tapping together, the other hand lying flat on his stomach.

What were you wearing to bed that night?

He thought something along the lines of that before he dug his nails into his palm with the curl of his fists.

What was the point of not touching you if it meant he would think those kinds of things? He tried.

He thought that. Michael Bakalova.

“I wanted to, I could. I did.”

He pressed his hand into his forehead. Aaron needed to think of anything else and quickly.

2:44am.

The team was right, he was right against the surface logic and challenges that would ensue the minute he would put you with the BAU. You would be an asset to this team. You were an amazing consultant. You would be an even better agent. Of course, that would be if you wanted to join in the first place.

That not being the case would only be the case if you were just having fun - flirtations and head tilts. He said he wouldn’t tolerate that. You were to join the team, there was no doubt about it.

He knocked on your door in the morning and dreamt about opening it in silence in the night.

#hc's #drabble #birds of a feather #BOAF!AU #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #yandere x reader #yandere #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #criminal minds fanfiction

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writersdrug · 9 months ago

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Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 10)

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Summary: Thankfully, things have been resolved between you and Konig. You start to settle in more with your team, and Roze shares a few thoughts with you over a smoke. The memories are still there, but just like the winter around you, they're cold and unwelcoming. You and Konig open up to each other a bit more, more than you had ever opened up to anyone.

WARNINGS: implications of masturbation, cursing, angst (if you squint?), plot building, graphic depictions of animal torture and death (PLEASE CONSIDER ALL WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME thank you kindly)

Notes: Yes! Hello! I exist!! I've been in a slump, and I really do apologize for that. Many of you have been very patient with me and I love and appreciate you all for it! I had to intake as much CoD literature as I could in the past few weeks to get me motivated, which helped a LOT (not to mention I discovered no fewer than ten works that currently have a hold on my heart). But it's here! I forced myself to write over half of the following chapter so that it would be less daunting to finish up. I also plan to make a wip post for yall, just to share will everyone what goes on in my rat brain.

This was edited at 3 am (god it's 4 am now, i just saw that), so if there are any grammatical or spelling errors you have my full consent to call me out on it! Please enjoy!

(sidenote, I completely didn't research how old you need to be to become a navy SEAL, so reader's age is a bit inaccurate in regards to that. pls ignore lol)

(last sidenote then you can read, does anyone have tips for customizing the layout of their fics? I see so many cool ways to style the font and cute banners and errything but I have no idea how nor what to do)

- - - -

The sky hung low with a blanket of gray. It looked like it was about to snow, although the threat was soon dismissed when noon came around and there wasn’t a single flake. The air was cold and dry, forcing me to zip my jacket up all the way and tuck my nose into the collar. I blew steady, warm breaths into my jacket and tried to soak up the heat into my bones.

It was as if the incident had never happened.

Konig and I ended up driving to the liquor store, which was a blessing, since I had run out of Yeungling (and I didn’t understand enough Turkish to converse with the clerk, nor did I have any of the appropriate money – Konig was graced with both of those necessities). We talked like there had never been a week and a half of silence between us. He talked about how he had nearly forced Ridgeback to drag me out of my room and into the common area, “… but it would have been too early for that.” He commented. That, and I would have rather died.

So life went on as normal: dreary, aside from shooting people and getting shot at. Nonetheless, it was normal, and there was a peace to be found in that.

I leaned against the building to the training room, with Roze to my left. I had intended to come out and soak up whatever natural light I could – when I saw her standing there, possibly trying to do the same, I felt the instinct to play it off as if I was just leaving the building. But she cocked her head in a greeting, and a part of me took an interest in her worry-free aura. Out of everyone, she always seemed to be the least-stressed person in the room, even in the middle of a warzone. It was the balm to my anxious mind that I never knew I needed, but gratefully stood by.

We remained together in a comfortable silence (one I would most definitely would not have been comfortable with a while ago), staring ahead, watching the indecisiveness of the brooding clouds above. I wondered what the rest of the world was doing – if they might have been as calm and carefree as us, or if they were in some kind of peril, and the horrors of it were blocked out by the clouds.

I was drawn back to the present when I heard the click click click of Roze’s lighter. I turned my head and watched as she shielded the weak flame from the wind, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from her lips.

“You smoke?” I asked.

“Sure do.” She replied nonchalantly. “Want one?” she extended her pack of cigarettes towards me.

I glanced at the box, feeling a sour taste in my mouth.

I lay on my stomach, my muscles still twitching and shaking as I tried to even out my breaths. Ghost had tossed a thin blanket over my lower half. I hadn’t even moved from the position he had ruthlessly fucked me in – my body ached too much to even try, and my mind was still recovering from the past hour.

I watch Ghost as he reclined next to me, pushing the bottom of his mask up to place a cigarette between his lips. It was the first time I had seen any part of his face all day. He grabbed his lighter from the pocket of his pants that were discarded on the floor, lighting the end of the cigarette and inhaling. He tossed the lighter back down to the floor as he tilted his head back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. I watched it swirl in the lamplight, settling in a cloud around us. He continued puffing, staring at the wall across from the bed as I lay beside him, although I felt worlds away from him.

He'd started off the night with a mountain of stress from a mission gone sideways. Instead of the usual slow build, where he would run his hands under my shirt and kiss my lips slowly and tenderly – he had walked in and immediately demanded I remove my clothes while he began stripping out of his. I had assumed tonight was going to be a passionate one, until he threw me onto my stomach and shoved my face into the pillows. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rough with me, but it wasn’t just rough – it felt dehumanizing. An hour of constant, merciless thrusts, and a hand around my neck that restricted both my blood flow and my oxygen, and I had fallen into a state of shock.

But, in the end, I was happy to be caged in by him again.

I was happy.

He turned his eyes towards me, seeming to sense that something was off. He exhaled another puff of smoke. “Everythin’ alright?” he asked, completely void of any genuine concern.

I met his eyes with my own. I felt like I shouldn’t have to answer the question, and it stirred up a bitterness in me. But I didn’t feel like arguing with him, and I certainly didn’t want him to leave – so I nodded my head, slowly blinking my eyes. “Just tired.”

He hummed and faced the wall again. He brought one of his knees up and rested his arm against it. “Want a smoke?” he asked, still looking away.

I shook my head as much as the pillow beneath me would allow. “No.” I replied.

He sighed disappointedly. Apparently, my lack of enthusiasm after being used like an old fucktoy was irking him.

To be fair, I never spoke up about how I felt.

He grunted and rose from his position, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray by my bed, and picking up his clothes and pulling them on. My heart ached slightly as I watched him slide his shirt over his torso. I felt the threat of tears sting in my eyes as I wished his hands were holding me instead, keeping me warm and grounded. He pulled his jeans on and fastened them, buckling his belt rather quickly; and all while he faced away from me.

“Well, I know you probably need some alone time.” He muttered, sliding the skull attachment over his mask. “So I’ll get going. I’ll see you around.”

He grabbed his tactical vest and jacket and slung them over his shoulder. He paused by the door. “Thanks for tonight.” He mumbled, before finally leaving the room and softly closing the door behind him.

My eyes lingered on the ashtray with the half-smoked cigarette. A thin trail of smoke plumed into the air – I wanted to throw the tray across the room and shatter it. But it was Ghost’s, so I couldn’t; I couldn’t regardless, because it was a piece of him that remained with me, even when he left.

That, and the smell of smoke.

“Nah, I’m good.” I replied, facing the cold, empty base ahead of me.

“Good.” She said, pinching the cigarette and blowing a stream of smoke. “Stay that way. Did you know these bastards give you cancer?”

I chuckled into the collar of my jacket. “Do they, now?”

She hummed affirmatively, sucking another breath in through the cancerous bastard. “Who would’ve thought…”

We fell back into silence. I continued watching the stillness of the base, trying to see if the sky would follow through with its promise to fall. Now that my free time wasn’t spent holed up in my room, it somehow felt like there were fewer ways to spend it. With another mission on the horizon – a simple recon, yet dauntingly close to a heavily-guarded compound – no one was out and about when they usually were. Finding Roze outside and seemingly not worried was usual, however, and a warm sight, compared to how the rest of the team was on edge. Even Askel seemed grumpier than most days.

I hadn’t been seeking out someone to spend time with, no… that I would never do (or admit). But talking to a familiar face provided a comfort I had grown to need over the past couple of months. And, frankly, I felt like Konig might be getting tired of how much I ran to him when I craved social interaction. Though he had never said anything about it, I felt like I needed to branch out to other team members than just my Colonel. One might think I was trying to kiss his ass (I knew the accusation had already crossed Juno’s mind, but the young soldier was good at holding his tongue – when Konig was around, at least).

“You ever think about how ‘little girl’ you would react to this?” Roze asked, and I turned to face her. She had her nose scrunched, and a tinge of pink dusted over her cold cheeks. “Guns, war, no playdates or days at the beach…”

I sighed. “Probably would have cried.” I replied, allowing my freezing nose to poke over the collar of my jacket. “Especially if I had known that being a princess now adays meant spending more time worrying about becoming a hostage than anything else.”

Roze chuckled. “It’s a good thing we didn’t know then.” Her face was mostly blank, but I thought I noticed a hint of bitterness in the way her gaze landed on the ground. I watched her flick her cigarette with a bit more aggression than usual. “I would’ve tried to convince my entire family to run away to Scotland, live in hiding and pretend the rest of the world was a dream.”

“Scotland?” I asked. Soap’s cocky grin and heavy Scottish accent stirred in my mind, but it felt like nothing more than a small cloud of dust.

“Yeah – heard it’s fucking gorgeous over there.” She waved her cigarette in no particular direction. “Now, I don’t know how peaceful it is in terms of politics and war, but it’s pretty spacious. Simple, too. I feel like if I talked about throwing all my shit away and becoming a fisherman for a living, I wouldn’t get people trying to talk me out of it like I would in the States.” She took another drag, and laughed out the smoke.

“Fisherman?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, a hardened smile gracing her lips. “I don’t know why it sounds so appealing… it just does.”

I hummed and looked back out at the compound. I wondered about Roze’s past; she had never said or done anything to indicate that it was particularly rough, as it was for the majority of us (us – I still wasn’t used to including myself, but it was becoming more of a habit each time), but the weariness in her eyes when she spoke about her younger self made me question what that girl had been through. Maybe it was just nostalgia. A yen for simpler times. Roze seemed to appreciate the simple things in life.

“You know Askel goes ice fishing?” she said suddenly.

I smiled underneath my jacket. “Seems like something he would do.”

“Every winter.” She continued. She dropped her cigarette to the floor and crushed it into the gravel. “He takes about three weeks of leave, if we’re lucky enough to get it, and goes to Norway. Sits on a frozen lake for hours a day, just waiting for a fish.”

“You make it sound like he’s never caught one.” I point out, my eyes lingering on the cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders. “So does he. Every time I ask him what he caught, he just laughs. Says he’s never expects to get a bite.”

I closed my eyes and hummed in response. It was easy to picture the scene – Askel, sitting on a thick layer of ice, nursing the hoppy beers that he and Konig loved so much and waiting for a fish to bite. I wondered if he even bothered to reel the line in when he did catch something. Or if he even went fishing at all. Maybe he just went out there to get a sense of peace, to pretend that war and death didn’t exist.

The motion of thick, heavy snowflakes falling from the sky caught my attention. They landed on the skin of my nose, resisting the warmth for a few moments, before they eventually melted into trickles of water. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of them towards us, making the both of us flinch.

Maybe fishing doesn’t sound too bad.

- - - -

The shooting range was mostly silent, save for the occasional conversation between me and Konig. The lights were low, easily illuminating the gunpowder and dust swirling in the air. Konig and I stared at the paper target as we analyzed my shots. A few hit dead center, although most of them were clustered around the lower left of the bullseye. My lips were pursed into a scowl as I glared at my sub-par aim – it wasn’t typically so awful, but of course it was while Konig had been watching.

“Eh, are you sure you didn’t lie on your paperwork about being a sniper?” Konig asked as he stood behind my left shoulder, taking the target from my hands and looking at it closely. “You weren’t even ten yards from it. This is very poor marksmanship.”

I scowled in embarrassment, taking my pistol to the counter and pulling out the mag. “Rough day.” I answered bluntly as I started packing more bullets into the small compartment. It wasn’t a lie – I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. I was in the middle of a rather interesting dream involving me and Ghost, until my alarm woke me up before anything of importance happened.

“Very bad…” he mumbled to himself. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Y’know…” I grumbled, loading the mag back into the gun and shoving it in my holster, “I don’t like stereotyping, but the boot really does fit you.” I walked past him and out into the hallway, not waiting for him to follow.

“Hmm?” he made an indignant noise, momentarily stuck in his spot, before he came jogging after me. “What does that mean? What stereotype?”

I chuckled. “Haven’t you ever how Germans are extremely blunt?” I asked.

“Austrian.” He retorted. “Do I need to brand that onto my face for you?”

“Wouldn’t do me much good, with the mask ‘n all.” I replied.

He laughed – rather snorted, as usual – “Ah, you’re right. Maybe I am blunt – just as much as you are defensive.”

I stopped at the end of the hall, right in front of the exit. “Defe-“ I turned on my heel to scowl at him. “I am not defensive! Where did you get that idea?!”

He stopped behind me, his eyes widening. He gestured an open palm in my direction. “This.”

I huffed, turning back around to punch the door open. The snow from earlier that day had ceased, blanketing the base in a thin layer of white. The moon seemed that much brighter against the crystalized ground, and the yellow lights scattered across the compound made parts of the snow look like sandy dunes. My nose tingled from the nip of the chilly air, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as the door fell shut behind me and Konig.

“Well, what am I supposed to say when you call me defensive?”

“You could agree.”

“But I don’t.”

“Which proves my point.”

I huffed in frustration, despite the smirk curling on the edges of my lips. “So, either I have to agree with you, whether I really do or don’t, or you’ve corralled me into a paradox.”

I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “A what?”

“A paradox, like a – y’know, never mind. It’s too difficult to explain.” I let him fall in step next to me, although he was the one who needed to slow down to match my pace. “We can just agree to disagree, how’s that?”

“Agreed.” He nodded, and I chuckled. “It won’t change the fact that I’m right, you know.” He added.

I bit my lip and tried to keep my smile from growing ridiculously larger. I looked up at him and patted his shoulder – he looked down at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. A stray, reddish-brown curl poked through the side of his balaclava, and I found the miniscule detail warming my heart through the cold air. He felt real, and in this moment, too human for this kind of life.

“Why did you choose the military?” I asked, turning back to look at the ground as we walked.

He hummed. “Isn’t that every boy’s dream?”

“Well, yes – but most of the time, it never becomes more than that.” I responded.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, mimicking my own position. “I’m not really sure what made me push so much for it. I almost didn’t make it, for obvious reasons.”

I chuckled. “Size does matter, huh?”

He looked down at me with a deadpan gaze, one that I refused to meet. “It almost did, in a bad way. And I almost backed out before they could be the ones to turn me away. But, of course, they knew they would find some use for my size – so they took me in.”

“And what did they do with you?” I asked, looking back at him.

“A ‘human battering ram,’ as my superiors had so nicely called it.” He framed the description with his hands in the air, as if it had been written on a plaque. I laughed and looked back down at my feet.

“Seriously?” I asked. “So they just had you breaking down doors, and then what?”

Konig laughed with me. “Well, I still had a gun, so I was able to shoot, thank goodness. And I had a bit more gear so I wouldn’t break my bones against the doors – I still dislocated my shoulder a few times, however…” he rolled his left shoulder, as if there was still a lingering pain from how often he had thrown himself at doors. “It was actually during a period of recovery when I proved that I could still be a sniper. My shoulder was still healing, so I had to give up being a battering ram for a while. I was sat with Horangi on the side of the mountain to give him cover. Of course, he was ambushed – he had to fight the Arschgiege right when we were given the order to shoot, so I had to take position behind the gun.” I noticed that his chest was puffed out a bit from pride. “That really knocked their pants off.”

I chuckled, choosing to ignore the inaccuracy of his phrase. “Did it now?”

“It did.” He replied, then looked at the ground. “For a moment. I got a good earful for overstepping boundaries that day, but it’s what ultimately landed me here – so I’m grateful for it.”

I nodded and hummed. “What was Horangi picked for?”

Konig shrugged, his hands now back in his pockets. “He never said what he and Commander had spoken about in his office. But, even if he wasn’t chosen – I like to think we come as a package. If I go, he goes, if he doesn’t, I don’t.”

I felt my heart warm at his words. The memory of how Juno had described Konig couldn’t be farther from my mind. It almost felt like I was talking to someone I briefly crossed paths with in my youth – not a war criminal, not the bloody and stiff soldier who had stepped onto the heli after our first mission. I envied his ability to separate his work stress from the time he had in between missions.

“Why did you decide to join?” He asked, catching me off guard.

It was only fair that I opened up to him, since he was so willing to do the same. Always the one to go first, too. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want this to turn into a pity party, and I didn’t want to dig anything up that I had worked so hard to bury deep beneath my subconscious.

“I was… a weird kid. Like you.” I said, making Konig scoff and roll his eyes. “Looking back now, I hate my younger self. I was so sensitive to what people thought about me, and I just wanted to be independent and strong. I wanted to be a ‘different girl.’” I gritted out the words that left a sour taste in my mouth. “I think I just wanted attention at first – of course, when I heard how everyone said they hated how annoying teenage girls were, and how gullible and weak they were, it just – it made me change. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, it wasn’t just about being different anymore. So, as soon as I turned old enough, I enlisted. Didn’t get to Navy SEAL right away, of course… but I joined every program I was allowed in until I could submit my application.”

I sighed, then chuckled. “Thought my family would say they were proud, that I was successful, that I was doing a good job… they were just angry. Said I was throwing my life away for business that didn’t involve our country.” I opened my mouth to say more, but I ended up scoffing and closing it once again. I felt like I had shared enough.

I looked at Konig, expecting him to acknowledge what I said. “That’s how the story goes…” he would say. But, when I met his gaze, I only saw concern. His brow was creased with what I imagined was pity, and my stomach churned. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I had hoped for. I only wanted to share stories with him, and now it was… this.

“I think you made the right choices.” He said, and I looked away.

“You don’t need to make me feel better, Konig. I appreciate it, but-“

“I’m not just trying to make you feel better.” He said, his accent slightly thicker from his exasperation. “You’re good at what you do. Your parents are just probably worried for you, and they don’t know how to show it.”

I bit down on my tongue, my eyes settling on the building in front of us with a hard expression. If only.

“Maybe that’s it.” I muttered, hoping he would drop the subject. He seemed to understand, and turned to look ahead with a disappointed sigh. My heart sank the tiniest bit at the sound, and I internally scolded myself. Still a people-pleaser, apparently.

We continued walking in silence, the buzz of the lights above us mimicking the static of a communication system that had been severed in a time where it was needed most. The edge of the barracks appeared into our view, just around the corner of the arsenal sheds that stood between us and our destination. I continued to stare at the ground, pretending to watch my steps and try to not slip on the snowy asphalt. My heart twisted with each second of silence that sat thickly between us. It wasn’t technically a fight, but somehow, it felt worse. It felt like the first time I had pissed him off, the first time we had spoken to each other – and god, did I already hate myself for the way I had acted towards him during those first few weeks. I didn’t want to drive another wedge between us, not after the ones that had already been worked back out.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly, but loud enough that I knew it reached his ears. “Sensitive topics.”

He flitted his eyes in my direction, but didn’t bother to move his head. He sighed, and I nearly jolted when I felt his wide hand on my upper back. It rubbed back and forth, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was comforting me. Or, trying to, at least.

“I know.” He said, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I was stuck on the feeling of the roughness of his palm, which I could gleam through the fabric of my jacket. How his fingers squeezed gently and released twice. There was no hidden meaning, no forced contact or any kind of attempt to put context into the touch. It was… natural. Warm, comforting, and it spoke a thousand words that I wouldn’t have been able to stomach if he had said them. It broke past my self-hatred and walls of ‘don’t be weak’ that I would have used as my defense if he had tried to verbally convey any sort of consolation. It was the first time I didn’t feel awkward about being so close to him, let alone when he was touching me. I wondered if he did this on purpose, or if he had no idea what he was doing at all.

I let myself stand nearer to him, almost tucked under his arm. I looked up and smiled as genuinely as I could – not that it was hard for me, but because I wanted to make sure that he really knew how much I appreciated the gesture. Although, if he knew that this simple act of comfort would pierce through my outer shell, was it really necessary?

“Thank you, Konig.” I said.

He looked down at me and smiled. That damn smile. I wondered how much more refreshing it would be when he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was already too much for my soul to bear when it was just the crinkling in his eyes that I could see.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” He replied, patting my shoulder before tucking his hand back into his pocket. I grieved minimally at the loss of the touch, but I was happy for what it was. “And I mean it. Anytime you need to talk – or not talk, and do that empty staring that you do – just come find me.”

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Anytime?” I asked amusedly.

“Mhm!” Konig replied, his eyes on the ground as he watched his steps. Then, the realization hit him, and his eyes went wide with panic. “Oh- well, eh- I guess, not anytime-“

“You gonna tell me when?” I joked, and he laughed. “You need an open/closed sign on your door.” I jogged ahead, trying to reach the door to the barracks before he did.

“How about this?” he called out, and I could hear the grin behind his mask. “I’ll nail a chalkboard to my door, and if I’m busy, I’ll draw a stick guy jerking off in his bed!”

My cheeks burned after I heard him. “No!” I shrieked, laughing nervously. “You’ll traumatize Juno!” I quickly tried to pin this on someone other than me.

“Juno, hah?” Konig teased, and I had half a mind to run into the building and leave him on the quad. “I don’t care about him. Kid needs to be traumatized.”

I laughed and threw my head back, turning the corner around the arsenal shed. “That’s not very-“

Immediately, my heart leapt into my throat, and I gasped. Konig nearly ran into my back as he skidded to a halt.

Sick, sick, what the fuck, I feel sick-

“Stimmt etwas nicht?” he asked, concerned. “What- oh, scheisse-“

We both stared at the bird on the ground. A crow from the looks of it, though it was hard to even decipher that it was a bird in the first place, due to the state it was in. Its belly had been cut open, entrails and bloody bits pulled from the abdomen and strewn to either side of the bird. Its wings were stretched to their full capacity and most likely beyond it, crushed and missing a large number of feathers. Both of the legs appeared to have been ripped off and tossed to the left of the crow. Its beak was the worst of it all: pried open, the jaw probably broken from how wide it was spread. A haunting look of terror in the crow’s red, glossy eyes made a violent shiver run up my spine.

I exhaled shakily, my eyes still glued to the horror. “Holy shit – what the-“

Konig quickly walked around me and knelt in front of the crow. I shifted to look over his shoulder, still fearfully curious, but he held a hand out behind him, urging me to stay in place. With his other hand, he pulled at one of the bird’s wings, stiff and heavy. Whether it was frozen from the cold, or this was the effects from rigor mortis, I couldn’t tell.

“How – did a fucking fox do that?!” I asked. Are there even foxes in this area? How the hell did one get on base?

“Nein.” Konig replied, still looking at the corpse. His gaze fell upon it with a sense of… familiarity, maybe? “Not a fox, no.”

“Then what? It – whatever it was didn’t even eat-“

“I’ll take care of this.” Was all Konig said. He stood up and marched past me – I was barely able to catch a glimpse of his furious expression. His eyes were hard and narrow, and as he walked away, I noticed that his shoulders were tense and his hands were balled into fists. I didn’t dare say anything to him; he almost looked the same way he did after our first mission together, except this time, his anger seemed to be directed at something, instead of just a post-mission adrenaline high.

“I’ll see you later.” He said over his shoulder. There was an obvious fury to his words, and although I knew it wasn’t intended towards me, it still made me freeze where I stood – almost as if I might anger him more simply by taking a step after him.

Whatever it is… I thought, watching him disappear into the compound, he’s sorting it out. I can take care of myself. Although, with such an abrupt and tense departure, I was at a loss on what to do next. I looked back at the bird; its terrified eyes locked onto the sky above it, frozen in its last wish to fly away from whatever horror it endured.

A shiver ran up my spine, prompting me to look away.

- - - -

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