#I'm sorry for starting with angst

[self-righteous-idiot]

"The Third, sword that cuts"

            Dubbiel shouldn’t have survived the purge. She knew this. She wasn’t the strongest Third Circle, or the smartest. She was the smallest and perhaps the stubbornest. Perhaps that is why when Command ordered all Third Circle angels to stand down, to let their fellow angels grant them peace, she didn’t listen.

            Her bad habits saved her. Rather than resting on her Beacon watching Yofiel, or sleeping before her shift, she wandered off. The once beautiful field of flowers that surrounding the Beacon called to her. When the order came, no one was near enough to her to instantly smite her. She stumbled when she heard Hamaliel’s quiet scream as they were smote by Sabrael, their commander. Command echoed in her head, demanding compliance and a bowed head. Dubbiel, her hands full of tattered and bloodstained flowers, fled from her comrades, her siblings.

            All three sets of wings beating furiously, she slammed through the server border and tumbled through the Void. She screamed into the nothingness, as she heard her fellow Beacons disappear. The beacons dimmed, and the familiar songs disappeared. Behind her, on the server she had escaped, she heard Yofiel’s last note fade into nothingness.

            The shock forced her downwards, and she spiraled into the weak walls of a public server. Command was still echoing in her head, and she couldn’t think. Dropping her flowers, she scrambled for her dagger.

            All she could think incoherently was that she wanted Command out of her head. If Command wanted her dead, then she could not let Command in her head. She was alive, and she owed Command nothing, least of all her death. She tugged her long braid to the side, and pried with her knife, screaming in pain and anger. The pain is not the worst Dubbiel has felt in her short life, though it comes close.

            When her eyes can focus again, two people are crouched in front of her.

            “Are you ok?” a blue haired man asks her. “That did not look healthy.”

            Dubbiel blinks at the offered hand. “I will be ok.” She won’t, she can’t be. She has heard the screams of her siblings as they were ordered to kill each other.

            “I’m Scott.” He gently helps her up. “The handsome one hovering behind me is Jimmy. You can come with us. At least for a bit. You’re clearly running from something; judging by your general lack of anything other than armor, I doubt you planned on running.”

            “At least come have something to eat.” Jimmy cuts in.

            Dubbiel pauses, overwhelmed by the events of the day, disoriented by so much death. Neither of them seem to be offering any harm, but anything would be better than Command's cold demand for a quiet death. “Ok.”

            “What’s your name?” Scott asks. His voice remains gentle, as he and Jimmy lead her swiftly towards a world portal. She can see various players and hybrids side-eyeing her, and her wings and the blood she can feel trickling down her back.

            “Dubbiel.” She whispers. That was what Command had called her. Dubbiel of the Third Circle, good only for Beacons. If Command had no use for Beacons anymore, then she had no use.

            “Shubble?” Jimmy asks. “That’s a nice name.”

            She rolls that name around her mind. Shubble. That doesn’t sound like an angel name. It doesn’t sound like a name Command would give. It will do for now, she supposes. “Shubble.” She tries to imagine herself as a Shubble. “Yes, I’m Shubble.” It doesn’t feel right, it feels like a pauldron that’s too big. But, she might be able to grow into it, and it doesn’t feel wrong like Dubbiel.

            “Lovely to meet you Shubble.” Scott says. “How do you feel about building?” ~~~~~ Author's note: This is a drabble (hopefully the first of a few) that takes place in @greenekangaroo's Cursed Beacon Timeline. I have borrowed heavily from their lore, and possibly will continue to do so. If curious about this au, go check out their much better writing! The Skizz in their stories is amazing.

And uh, yeah! That's it for me for now. If you have questions or prompts, I will accept both, I love feedback, and I promise I might get to it eventually.

[mangywayway]

"The one who failed first"

[penkura]

Zoro has come to want nothing more than for you and your children to be safe. He believes for the longest time that the three of you being on the Sunny, where he can protect you, is the safest place in the world, no village or city could be safer. Zoro believes that fully, up until your ship is attacked by enemy Pirates. No one is surprised when you take your children, who are barely two years old and nearly four months old, below deck for safety, even as they both cry from the sounds and you try to calm them down.

When it's all over and he goes to retrieve the three of you, there's a strange feeling in his chest and a thought in the back of his mind that hits him when he sees you coddling your toddler and infant, both of whom are still fussy and upset, but your son starts to relax when he sees Zoro there and knows everything is okay, quickly running to be held in his dad's arms. He lifts him easily, your two year old burying his face in his neck, still crying just a bit, and the face you give him tells Zoro you have the same thought.

This isn't a safe place for children.

The two of you have several discussions the days after, on what to do now that your two little ones have had to experience the reality of living on a pirate ship so early on. Eventually you decide that it's best if, at the next island you dock at, you take your children and leave for some time, to give them a chance to grow up without fearing for their lives. Most places you visit are receptive to your crew, they welcome you all happily, and you fully believe the next island will too, based on things you've heard about it. Zoro only agrees because he wants you to be safe, you and your babies, he doesn't want anything to happen to any of you, not now not ever.

He doesn't fully accept that idea until a few weeks later, when you've left the ship with Nami and Jinbei, and have Zoro stay with your napping babies. The thought has been nagging him ever since that last attack against your crew, since he's been watching your kids grow a little more. Your son has been attached to Zoro ever since, especially when he wakes in the night, calling for him like he's had a nightmare (he probably has, Zoro realizes), while your daughter has been fully calm ever since, sleeping and nursing normally, she doesn't understand what happened and won't for several more years.

When you get back later, you find Zoro still watching them sleep, like he hasn't moved at all, lost in thought as you sit beside him. You lean against his arm, and he acknowledges you with a slight grunt and nod, before you start talking.

"I found a place we can stay."

"Yeah?"

"A small house right inside the town, the landowner is willing to let us rent it."

"That's good..."

The rest of the crew helps you pack that night, Luffy has agreed to letting you and your children leave for a time, at least until they're old enough to defend themselves, though you aren't sure you'll return. He understands that too, saying they'll always come by no matter what, as often as they can, with a grin on his face that eases you. Zoro plans to stay with you a few days more, while the Sunny is docked, and even tells you he'll take leave until you're comfortable, but you don't want him to waste time. It's not fair to him, or the rest of your crew, so you promise him that you'll be fine, the three of you will be okay.

But when those few days are up and it's time for everyone to go, you're starting to regret your decision, especially as your son cries and holds onto Zoro's leg, telling him to stay. It breaks both your hearts, and your daughter starts to whine while in her carrier on your chest.

"No go! Dada stay!"

When he finally looks down at your son, Zoro gives him a small smile as the toddler looks up at him, tears and snot running down his red face, before he picks him up and starts to wipe the tears away.

"Now that's enough. I'll be back."

"No...no go!"

"Hey now, you're a big boy, aren't ya?" Your son starts to quiet, nodding just a little, before Zoro sets his forehead against your son’s, "I need you to do something for me, all right? I need you to take care of your mama and baby sister until I get back, okay?"

He sniffles but nods again, before hugging Zoro around the neck.

"Miss you..."

"Yeah...I'll miss you too, buddy."

Zoro sets your son back on the ground after a few more minutes, before leaning down to your daughter and kissing the top of her head.

"Gonna miss you too, princess, be good for mama," you've been trying not to cry, for your children really, but you almost join in the tears when Zoro hugs you next, "I'll miss you the most. Be safe, all right?"

Nodding, you smile just a bit, leaning up to give him one more kiss before he leaves.

"I love you, we'll see you when you get back."

"I love you, too. I'll be back as soon as possible."

"I know you will."

Your son waves the whole time he can see Zoro leaving, only stopping when he's no longer visible, then looking up to you.

"Dada back..."

"Yeah," you smile and take his hand, starting to lead him back inside your rented home, "Dada will come back, just like he said."

[midnightshindig]

So I'm not sure if your requests are open, so feel free to ignore this

Could I have a magical girl reader with nolan? You know those memes where the most powerful thing in media is friendship, so why not have the embodiment of friendship take revenge for her friends

Like maybe they were even buddy buddy themselves

You can decide if this is like a romantic type setting or not, along with if she kills him or not

Nolan & Magical Girl! Reader

since magical girls are usuaully (although NOT always!!) High schoolers, I decided it would be a conflict of interest for there to be romance, but dw I gotchu!

I just watched the pilot for "I dont' want to be a magical girl" (GOOOOO watch it if you haven't the VA is hilarious and the animatic is so good and comedy is punctual as hell) so that might influence this a little

hcs under the cut!

"Nolaaannnn!!" You come barreling at him, tackling him into a hug

You're older than your title would suggest, being in your mid twenties by now

but you've been doing this magical girl shit since you were fourteen, so don't underestimate you!

Either way, this prlongued career introduced you to Nolan, the batman to your sailor moon

It's giving "I think we have to kill this guy, Y/n." "Aw shucks...."

This has been the dynamic of your friendship for the last five or so years, meeting through a kaiju battle on the sea bordering Japan.

Since then the two of you regularly team up when he's in your part of the world

He won't lie, he finds your bright and bubbly nature charming

plus I mean come on, Magic Magic Starship beam? hilarious.

Your magic comes from a magical mascot and its all super cute and whatever

Nolan doesn't like it

and it doesn't like Nolan.

And it won't tell you why it doesn't like Nolan, just that he seems too familiar

But who cares!! You two have fun, he's a good fighter, plus, you're pretty sure you're breaking through to him

"Power of friendship? That's where your power comes from?" He asks incredulously, taking a bite of his burger as the two of you fly around Japan

"Mmmhm!" You beam back at him "I know it sounds corny, but it's true. The power generated due to human connection and community is what gives me my abilities. It's a very powerful thing, you know, friendship." You took a sip of your milkshake, shifting to be flying on your back lazily "I think our friendship is my favorite, though."

Nolan coughed "us? Friends? I'm sorry Y/n but I don't have friends."

"Ugh this again- Omniman come onnnnn you and me are best buds! Get over yourself and let me love youuuu" You tease, squishing your cheeks together dramatically

Nolan rolls his eyes, finishing of his burger and dropping the wrapper into the sky "Race you to Shibuya? I'm picking up Sushi for my wife for dinner, special request, she likes a restaurant there."

You roll your eyes back, with a smile "Yeaahhhh sure, but if I win you have to buy me some too!!"

He grins, knowing it won't happen "Okay- Go!"

You've already started, but It won't matter

he's stronger and faster than you'll ever be

This doesn't matter much, though, and you keep fighting together

culminating in one particular fight with a particularly evil space princess

"Oh god not this bitch..." you mutter under your breath, before tightening your grip on your magic wand

"Friend of yours?" Nolan asks, approaching from the other side of the world "I was in the area" he lies

you can tell, but choose not to say anything

"Yeah, she's like convinced she'd my sister and wants me to help her take over the Earth."

Nolan's ears prick up at this

Take over the Earth?

Not on his watch.

He allows you to fight the woman for an extended period of time, staying benched until it appears the woman might kill you

"It was good knowing you, Y/n. I wish you could've joined my side..." her own magical beam charges, aimed at your head

and Nolan panics a little

He could easily kill her after she kills you

it would save him the effort of having to kill you himself later

but the pang in his heart won't let him, and before he knows it, he's got the space princess by the throat, flying so fast he breaks the sound barrier into space

Once out of earshot, he pulls the princess close "The Earth isn't yours to conquer. And if you ever come back, or lay your hands on Y/n again, I will fucking kill you and your entire people."

He returns to Earth to check on you, finding you right where he left you

"Awwwww you big sap, you worried about me!" You beam up at him, as he carries you to a hospital

"Of course not, don't be silly."

"Oh cmonnnnn we're friends after all!"

He sighs a deep, reluctant sigh "Yeah, okay. You're right, I'm your friend."

"and I'm yourrsssssssss" You grinned, loopy from the pain

"Yeah... sure." Nolan relented "I'm your friend."

It's a couple years later, and you're pushing twenty eight when Nolan tries to take over the world

You'd been retired for a year or two at this point, but how could you sit at home and watch this happen?

Ugh- you'd even need the support of your old teammates, who you called frantically

thankfully, they saw the news and had the same idea

So a five person magical girl group of late 20's women go to help Mark as they make their way to the scene of the fight

Well it doesn't matter because Nolan CRASHES right into your crew, Mark under him as the two fight

"Okay ladies, lend me your strength!"

"Wait, Y/n did we just come here so you can power u-"

"YES MEI NOW LEND ME YOUR STRENGTH-!" You grit out with a smile

"okay, jesus...."

So you like smile magic princess baja blast the shit out of Nolan, which only serves to get his attention

"Y/n? What are you doing here? Get out of here!" He yelled, venom in his voice and blood (not his own) dripping off of his face and fists

"Not until you stop being an asshole, Omniman!"

"IM SERIOUS Y/N GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE."

You glared at him "IM serious, stop now."

He stood up, holding Mark down with his foot as he faced you "You don't want to do this."

He wasn't leaving you much of a choice "You're right," tears welled in your eyes "I don't."

Taking your magical wand in your hands, you began to twirl it, the girls on your team recognizing the move with deadly perception. You'd only used it once.

The air around you began to swirl into a vortex, the girls on your team funneling behind you to avoid the blast

You could only hope it missed the boy.

"I CAST: MAGIC OF FRIENDSHIP-"

(god Idk how to write action bear with me)

and it NUKES The guy.

NUUUUUUKES THE GUY

Nolan? Dead. BONES.

You descend to ground level, pulling the-- thankfully alive-- Mark from the rubble

"Hey- thank you. Uhm.... fuck..." Mark is bloody and bruised and barely able to talk, close to passing out

you pull Mark up, carrying him like how Nolan carried you, to the hospital.

It's a bittersweet memory...

I guess you weren't friends after all.

[tcustodisart]

Find yourself a girl that matches your silliness.

[perpetuallyconfused10]

Im the one who asked about requests lol, I just have this Hotch thought and I can't stop thinking about it 🫂😭

Imagine Garcia "screaming" about a video, telling the whole team about it (except Hotch and Reader), and that video is on tiktok. When they spill something about the video, Hotch and Reader ask which video they're referring to, not knowing it's from a tiktok account where the person makes videos on Hotch x Reader (like edits taken from some interview where they look at each other, slightly touches and things like that) and it's a whole profile with a lot of videos like that! So the whole team teases them and they obviously like eachother!!

Feel free to change anything!!

Gone Viral, Gone Wrong

Thank you to this anon for submitting my first request! I might have written it (and especially Hotch) be a little (way) too sappy, but I love your idea so much and I hope I did it some type of justice! WC: 3.3K

GIF by ssa-aaron-hotch-hotchner

There must be something on your face. Toothpaste, maybe, or coffee on your shirt, or a tear in your trousers. Something to explain the numerous pairs of eyes following you as you dash for the elevator, just as you always do. 

This morning’s been one for the books. Between a text from your highschool ex-boyfriend, congratulating you on your ‘newfound fame’ — whatever he means by that, you don’t know — and the incomprehensibly slurred voicemails you woke up to from your sister, you aren’t quite sure what to do with yourself.

You tell yourself you’re probably imagining it. But Anderson doesn’t say a word to you as you both make your way to the BAU, just casts you sidelong glances between the rapid texts he’s sending. You hope to God it’s not you, that he's just having an awful morning, then scold yourself for it. If you’re not off to a good start, at least somebody should be.

It’s the silence in the bullpen that confirms your suspicions. Emily, JJ, and Garcia sit huddled around Emily’s computer, squeezed onto two chairs they’ve pulled together. Morgan leans over them to look at the screen. He’s in the middle of laughing at something Garcia’s said when you walk in. 

You don’t even need Reid’s not-so-subtle hiss of “Guys–” to know you’re not going crazy. The smirks that drop from their faces, the giggles that extinguish themselves as you enter through the double doors, are more than enough. 

Four profilers and a technical analyst, as it turns out, can be rather terrifying when the force of their stares are directed at you. 

A sheepish grin tugs at your lips as you hold up your peace offering: a tray of coffee. “Hi?”

You’ve come to know how the team works. You know exactly how they react when ambushed, how they spring to action like a well-oiled machine.

There’s something a little mechanical to them now, bared in their responses to your arrival. After giving you one of his usual tight-lipped smiles, Reid flips open a random file on his desk and begins to read. JJ grabs the computer mouse, clicks a few times, and turns away from the monitor to greet you. Morgan clocks the drinks in your hands and conjures a grin just a little wider than normal. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says as he plucks the tray from your hands, thanking you with a squeeze to your forearm. 

Garcia, eyeing the gesture, nearly chokes on the end of the pen she’s chewing. She stands to usher you over to your desk, her chirpy voice a balm attempting to smooth over what has been a very odd start to your working day. 

“What were you guys looking at?” You ask her, eyebrows raised. If anyone’s going to tell you what’s going on, Penelope is, without a doubt, most likely to spill.

You’re disappointed – and even more confused – when she stands her ground. Through her ramble, you just about make out the words “cat” and “spa” before she’s kissing your cheek and speeding away to your lair. 

You sigh as you switch on your own computer. One thing is clear. The team doesn’t like to be ambushed. And, somehow, that is exactly what you have done. 

—

After finishing off one of your consults, you suffer through a morning briefing that ends up being far more complicated than it needs to be. It’s only a paperwork day, by the looks of things. In theory, this is the ‘easiest’ your job gets; if you’re not called out on an emergency, you can bank on a day of case reports and shitty coffee. 

Nothing is ever easy at the BAU, not even now. Everything is out of order. There’s none of the usual idle chatter that precedes a briefing, just a fragile silence. Rossi moves from his normal position to take your place between Reid and JJ. He mutters something about the chair being uncomfortable and shoos you away from your seat. Though you can’t resist the opportunity to call him an old man for his pedantics, you acquiesce and take his spot instead. You find nothing wrong with it. 

Then Hotch walks in to start the briefing, and you find about a hundred reasons to curse David Rossi. He’s wearing the gray suit, again, the one he likes pairing with his red tie. That should be a crime in itself. When he takes the only seat available — his usual seat, the one now next to you — you’re almost sure you hear JJ snort. Emily pats her on the back as she conceals it with a very unconvincing cough.

Hotch frowns in your direction, probably mulling over the change in seating plan, then turns his attention to JJ. “Are you alright?”

The blonde clears her throat. “Fine. Thanks, Hotch,” she says. 

Garcia rests her elbows on the table, her mouth concealed by the palm of her hand. 

Hotch nods, casting another short glance your way. “Good.”

Then he launches into the briefing, and you can almost convince yourself things are perfectly normal, that your face isn’t alight with heat and you’re not avoiding looking at him, that everything is fine. When you’re dismissed, you scurry towards the door fast enough you almost miss it. 

“Garcia?” His voice is quiet, his tone soft with something disapproving hiding beneath it. “My office, please.”

Everything is decidedly not fine. 

—

By noon, you can’t take it anymore. “Emily Prentiss, what the fuck are you doing?”

The question comes out louder and more harshly than you’d intended. In your peripheral vision, you see Reid’s eyes widen at the desk next to yours. Emily, halfway through a sandwich, freezes. 

“I’m sorry?”

The grin fades from her face. 

You huff. “You’ve been looking between me and your computer for the last half-hour. What is it? Is there something on my face?” Morgan laughs from the other side of the bullpen, and you raise your voice a little in desperation. “Seriously. Have I done something wrong?”

JJ must have heard the commotion, because she pokes her head out of her office door. She takes one look at you and sighs. “Probably best to get it over with, Em.”

When Emily hesitates, your eyes narrow. “Get what over with?”

She stands and beckons you over to her desk, firing up her computer screen as you settle into her chair. JJ comes down the stairs to join you. Though they don’t move, you can practically feel Morgan and Reid staring at the three of you from across the room. 

What you see projected on Emily’s screen doesn’t make things any clearer.

“That’s—” you pause, dumbfounded. “Why are you looking at me and Hotch?”

The picture is easy to place. It must have been taken a few days ago, during a small-town case. Hotch had asked you to deliver a profile to the media when JJ was working on something else. It was far from the first time you’d faced the press head-on during your time at the Bureau, but Hotch had stood by your side anyway. 

You’re not sure why she’s chosen this photo, if any, to look at. The wind’s blowing your hair into your face, and you’re midway through changing expressions so it almost looks like you’re in pain. 

“Just watch,” Emily says. She presses the spacebar and the picture bursts into action.

—

“—If you believe you have any information that may relate to this case, we’d appreciate you calling the following number…” you say. You proceed to rattle off the number for the tip line JJ’s set up, but only get halfway through before everything derails. 

“How do we know this isn’t all just bullshit?” 

The voice overpowering yours is weathered, and so is the man who pushes through the crowd of journalists to get close to you and Hotch, whose posture you see straighten in an instant. You watch as the reporters from the city turn to look at the interloper, pens out and waiting, no doubt, for either you or your boss to slip up.

For a long moment, Hotch watches the man, his face twisted in irritation. He merely restates the tip line number and your request for any potential witnesses to come forward.

But the skeptic doesn’t let up. “This guy’s an outsider. Not one of us. Everyone here knows each other, they have done for years—”

“We’re not trying to cause a panic,” you say, your tone even, “We don’t want you all to turn on each other. But the man we’re looking for knows this town. He’s confident finding his way around the forest, even the areas that haven’t been mapped out yet. He knows the shortcuts, which roads are quiet and which are too risky to take. We’re asking you to exercise caution, and to report anything suspicious if you see it.”

“So what? A few pins on a map and you’re convinced it’s one of us?”

Hotch’s jaw tightens. This case has been harder on him than most, and you can sense that he’s on the verge of responding in a way he’ll regret later. You put a hand on his forearm as he raises it to retort, squeezing it gently in the hopes he’ll get the signal you really don’t have the seniority to be sending him: stand down. He takes a deep breath, and you let your hand slide down to meet his wrist, guiding it just a fraction backwards to rest by his side. The contact lasts only a second, maybe two, before you let him be. 

When he finally speaks, his voice is measured, his eyes slow to drag themselves from your face. “We’re not here to defend the science behind criminal profiling. Our priorities remain finding the person responsible for these crimes and the safety of this community until we do. If you have any information at all, please don’t hesitate to contact us. We appreciate your cooperation.”

Even the most amateur journalist would know he’s done answering questions. Hotch gives a brief nod, turns and leads you out of the Georgia heat and back into shelter of the precinct. All the time, his hand hovers over your back, his gaze searching for any potential disruptions. 

Then there’s his voice, deep and almost inaudible. You feel his breath brush your earlobe. “Thank you.”

—

Oh. 

Now you’re looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, you do look a little…cozy with Hotch. Not enough to walk the line of unprofessionalism, but enough for you to notice it. 

Emily folds her arms, leans back in her chair. “What’s that about?”

Avoiding her eyes, you shrug. “What’s what about?”

“The canoodling,” JJ says with a smirk, and you slap her arm. 

You’re a profiler. You should know your little attempt at denial isn’t going to work, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. “Canoodling? Seriously, Jen? I don’t think anyone under the age of eighty has ever said the word ‘canoodling’.”

You hear Penelope’s kitten heels clacking against the floorboards before you see her. “Doesn’t mean you’re not doing it,” she sings. Her arms wrap around your shoulders from behind.

You groan. “Penny, you know I love you, but what are you doing here?”

“I got lonely,” she says, and her expression is so genuine that you can’t even bring yourself to be upset with her. “Just wait…”

Leaning over you to press the escape button, she exits out of full screen mode and points to the corner of the screen. When you read the number she’s showing you, your breakfast threatens to make a reappearance.

“Would you look at that?” Emily laughs. “It’s gone up.”

You blink. Once, twice, three times. And once more, for good measure. “Six-hundred-and-fifty thousand people have seen that?”

It all starts to make sense. The texts, the calls, the stares, the team’s behavior…you don’t know whether to be relieved or horrified. On the bright side, you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing that could get you fired. But more than half a million people have seen you practically mooning over your boss.

Emily makes a noncommittal noise. “Half of them were probably Garcia. And a good twenty-five or so were us, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t,” You resist the urge to slam your head against the desk. You’ll have to settle for burying it in your hands instead. “Six hundred and…fuck. And they all think–?”

“—That you’re in love with our boss? And that he’s in love with you? Yes.”

“Oh, fuck.” “They think that, too,” says JJ, sounding sympathetic. If it weren’t for the frankly dastardly smile on her face, you’d think she was on your side.

Picturing the general population witnessing you make an idiot of yourself is bad enough. How do you even conceptualize that many people? How many stadiums could you fill solely with people who have seen you head over heels for your boss? Even worse is the thought of Anderson, or your parents, or – God forbid – even Strauss having seen it. You’ll be suspended. Fired. Or, even worse, be called into a mediated meeting with Hotch and HR, where they’ll ask him if you’ve been making him feel uncomfortable. 

Emily’s voice pulls you from your shame spiral. “And there’s more, too.”

This world hates you. You’re certain of that as she opens Twitter, putting “FBI agents” into the search bar and bombarding you with hundreds, maybe thousands, of tweets with your image attached. Some are disturbingly sweet. Others poke fun at how obvious you are, and even more disturbingly, seem to think your feelings are reciprocated. That’s not a mental path you can allow yourself to go down. 

“So…” You say after a long ten minutes. “What do we do?”

Footsteps, then Rossi appears at the stop of the stairs. “You go back to work. Your break’s over.”

He’s lucky you’re so fond of him. Had it been anyone else (save maybe one person) to disrupt your shame spiral, you’d have been furious. More than furious. You’re still a little irritated now.

There was nothing wrong with his fucking chair. 

—

Your mission is simple. Avoid. Deny. Deflect. The rest of your afternoon drags along in a blur of paperwork and teasing comments you choose to ignore (mostly courtesy of Morgan — JJ and Emily have decided you’re nearing your breaking point and vow to leave you alone). 

Five o’clock can’t come soon enough. Even when it does, there’s no reprieve. Reid turns out to be the one to betray you as everyone else packs up to leave, their files in his hand. “Sorry,” he whispers. To his credit, he looks like he means it.

“Judas,” you hiss back, but you stand and take the reports from him anyway. 

Morgan raises an eyebrow at you. “Going somewhere special?” 

You flip him off, muttering something under your breath that sounds just a little like “your funeral”. 

The stairs to Hotch’s office feel much longer and much steeper than usual. At every step you reconsider. Reid’s probably still heading for the elevator now. If you catch him, you can guilt him into doing this instead. But your thoughts carry you close enough for Hotch to spot your approach through the blinds. He rises from his desk, opening the door before you can even reach for the handle. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes. “Hi.”

Stepping aside to let you inside, he says your name, and it sounds so warm coming from his mouth. You wonder if he knows about your newfound fame, too. He seems to be focusing his stare directly between your eyebrows. 

“I just came to drop these off.” 

As if your words aren’t explanation enough, you hold up the files for him to see.

“Thank you.” Hotch reaches out to take them, and you feel his fingers brush yours as he does. He stops before the exchange is over. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.”

It won’t be long now before the sun sets. It’s making its final play for glory now, golden light filtering through the window and settling over Hotch’s face. Hints of amber tones surface in his eyes, usually so dark and unreadable, making him appear much softer than usual. Safer.

You sigh. “I think some people got a little more out of that press release in Georgia than we intended them to.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“You know about that?”

You wouldn’t half mind if a wormhole opened up, right there in his office, and transported you to another universe where you don’t even have to think about this moment ever again.

“I do.” He winces. “Garcia’s computer system is the most secure in the FBI, but she doesn’t have an inside voice.”

The dry comment shocks a laugh out of you. “No, she doesn’t. But…it’ll die down, right? No one is actually going to believe that. Us being together would be—”

“Unprofessional,” Hotch supplies after a beat. “Very unprofessional.”

He reaches backwards to put the files you’ve given him on his desk, somehow managing to do so without actually taking a step away from you. If anything, he gets a little closer. 

“Exactly. Strauss would kill us if we even thought about it,” you say, “Not that we would, I’m just…”

Now he looks down at you, straight into your eyes. You swear his pupils are dilated, that he slips for just a half-second and lets his attention drift down to your lips. “There’d be a lot of paperwork.”

You nod. “Too much, really. You’ve got enough already. It’d also be…”

“…Nice.”

Hotch stops breathing, lips downturned in a frown. You’re sure you’ve heard him wrong. But half a minute passes, and he doesn’t retract his statement, though he looks as if he’s close to doing so.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He’s close enough you catch a hint of his cologne, and the woody scent of it makes your head spin. 

“I can say it again,” he says through a long exhale, searching your face for any sign of discomfort as he takes another step closer. His breath ghosts your neck. “Or we can forget this ever happened.”

Your answer is almost immediate. “Let’s not do that.”

Hotch tilts your chin up so you’re forced to look at him. You lean upwards to meet him halfway in a kiss that is soft and tentative, the sort that promises everything and asks for nothing in return. One of your hands cups his jaw, and both of his find their way home to your waist, rubbing circles into your skin through your shirt. You smile against his lips. He leans forward as if to chase yours when you pull away.  It hits you, now, that this is really happening. The months you've been agonizing over this - whether to make a move or to shut the part of you that cares for him away - have led you here. There's much you've got to think over: what this means for both of your careers, the risk to the team's dynamic, whether it'll even work in the long run, if Hotch wants that too. You know he's thinking the same thing; his face adopts the same mask of concentration it always does when he's considering something. You take a deep breath. It might be hard, but does that stop it from being worth a shot? In the end, you don't think it does.

“I think I’m gonna order takeout tonight,” you say quietly. “There’s a really good Thai place down the street from me.”

Hotch clears his throat. “That sounds nice.”

Shaking your head, you rest both hands on his shoulders, laugh at him. “That was my way of asking you if you wanted to join me.”

“Oh.” 

His brow furrows. For a terrible moment, you think he’s about to say no. And then, “Haley has Jack tonight. I…I’d like that.”

You beam, pull back, and head towards his desk to find a pen and a scrap bit of paper. “Here’s my address.” A quick glance down into the bullpen, which is thankfully empty. “Give it ten minutes, then follow me?”

“Okay,” Hotch says. Even you can tell he’s grinning like an idiot, and you make a note of the rare expression. “Okay. I’ll see you soon?”

Squeezing his hand, you kiss his cheek and walk towards the door. “Soon.”

You feel his eyes on you until you reach the elevator.

If you got this far, thank you for reading! I've watched a lot more Dharma and Greg than CM, lately, so I have a feeling that my version of soft!Hotch is currently just a grownup version of Greg Montmgomery????

[toffiendfee]

Soulmate AU idea where, in some rare cases where someone doesn't manage to meet their soulmate and the latter dies before them, visions of the life they could have had together flash before their eyes in the moment of their soulmate's death.

Now hear me out: Either original timeline Mikey suddenly being hit by these flashes of memories he never made of a happy life where everyone is safe and alive and he is at peace (aka the canon events/perfect timeline) the moment that Takemichi is hit by the train. (What would the aftermath be? It wouldn't be pretty. Would Mikey ever find out that his soulmate died by Kisaki's orders and that he therefore would have had a chance to stop it if only he had known?)

Or on Takemichi's first timeleap, where he challenges Kiyomasa to save his friends just like in canon, but for some reason Mikey and Draken do not arrive at the scene in time and Kiyomasa actually beats Takemichi to death. Maybe they're on their way there when Mikey suddenly stumbles and has to steady himself against a wall as the visions come over him. Draken is shocked and concerned, especially when Mikey doesn't respond to him and especially when he suddenly bolts desperately calling out a name Draken has never heard before. And when they get to the scene pretty much all of the spectators and instigators have fled, the only ones still there are the Mizo Mid crew who have called an ambulance for their friend but it's too late. Takemichi is being loaded into the back by the paramedics as Mikey (and Draken, closely behind him) comes running, screaming like he's lost his mind and unsuccessfully demanding to be allowed in the ambulance because that's his soulmate, don't you understand?! Draken has to physically hold him back from actually mauling someone, horrified as he understands what just happened--

--Do you see my vision.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Charles Rowland (Pre-Canon Feelings Realization)

So they dance. They dance, Edwin leading Charles around the room, Edwin's hand at Charles' waist, their gloved hands against each other, and it's not like any concert he's ever been to. The bass line isn't shivering through his veins. The drum isn't kicking his teeth through his skull.

No, there's something else rising within him as the singer croons touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove . Something that feels so similar to something Charles has felt before, something that could overwhelm if he just looked at it the wrong way. The sort of thing that his father would ruin him for more than any single cassette tape ever could. The sort of thing that could have killed him, if he was alive.

But Charles doesn't want these feelings burning in his chest to splatter over Edwin. He doesn't ever want Edwin’s curiosity, his excitement, his tentative joy, to be overshadowed by the sort of dread, the sort of angry, shivering shadow, that Charles has carried since long before his father smashed his cassette tape in with that hammer.

-aletterinthenameofsanity, dance me through the panic ('til I'm gathered safely in)

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin

Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in

Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove

Dance me to the end of love

-Leonard Cohen, Dance Me to the End of Love

@tumblerislovetumblerislife @every-moment-a-different-sound @mellxncollie @nix-nihili

@tragedy-machine @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @wordsinhaled

@idliketobeatree

[momentomori24]

Based on a theory on tiktok and a little post I made a while ago. I saw this meme and immediately knew how to add some angst for them. Forgive me, Golfgang nation. Happy Valentine's, guys 🙃

[scrawnyghstts]

listening to The Chain by Fleetwood Mac and like you'd think it's a Gideon song but in actuality, the second you focus on the lyrics, it's the most gut-wrenching coalecroux angst song I've come upon .

[the-spooky-children]

I was listening to Two Birds again (big mistake it's midnight) and started thinking about what if in a future episode Skid starts getting caught up in all the cult stuff and Lila realises at some point because she looks at her son and sees his dad staring back at her (not literally) and nearly has a breakdown over it because this can't happen again, not to her baby, never to him

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Hurt/very, very little comfort. Like barely a hint, and I might be imaginating it by reading too much into my own work. Delta is doing bad, the ghouls are a mess.

If Alpha hadn't been distracted by his own thought, he would have noticed much sooner the tense silence smothering anyone stepping foot in the common room sooner.

As it is, it takes Mist loudly clearing her throat to snap him out of his own head. His shoulders immediately stiffen as the atmosphere finally registers.

Ifrit, crossed-legged on the rug, looks devastated, eyes red and puffy, elbows on the coffee table, gripping his hair with enough strenght to turn his knuckles white. Zephyr is sitting on the couch behind him, lips drawn in a thin line, frown knitting his eyebrows, shoulders slouching. Mist...she throws Alpha a look that almost has him stumbling in shock : helplessness is written all across her face as she paces nervously, whole body tense as a bowstring, ready to snap. Alpha never saw her like this. It makes his stomach roll uneasily.

Then his eyes land on Omega, and it's like being punched in the guts. The quint is unusually quiet, curled in on himself despite still standing, like he's trying to make himself as small as possible, ears flat against his skull, tail tucked between his legs. Before Alpha can reach him, smooth a hand along his back and enquire what's wrong, a shuffling draws his attention toward Pebble and Ivy.

And oh, Alpha is starting to understand the pattern. Pebble looks positively furious. Snarling silently, glaring at Omega like he believes looks can kill, the only reason he hasn't drawn blood yet seems to be Ivy's arms coiled tightly around him, refusing to let him go in spite of sharp elbows being thrown at his ribs or feet stomping on his.

There is only one reason Pebble could look so ready to maul Omega, someone he, despite what the past few years made transpire between them, respects very much ; something happened to Delta.

That certainty settles in Alpha's bones like ice, chilling him to his core, and not even his internal fire can thaw such a realisation.

Given the situation, Alpha turns to the person most likely to give him a straight answer.

"Zeph ?"

Zephyr lifts heavy, tired eyes toward him.

"Delta...something happened. He collapsed in the middle of the hallway...he's stable now, but very weak. Aether is watching over him."

So it's getting worse again. Alpha's stomach churn. Delta barely pulled through the last time he had such a crisis, not long after the Papas' murder. So now...

"I should go check on..."

"You won't get anywhere near him, you hear me ?!"

Omega's weak offer gets cut off by Pebble's venemous growl, straining against Ivy with renewed energy, fangs bared. Omega seems to shrivel under the earth ghoul's scalding anger.

"He needs-"

Pebble nearly manages to jostle himself free, sending both himself and Ivy sprawling onthe floor, from which he keeps spitting his rage at Omega's face.

"Aether's with him, he certainly doesn't need you. You're the one who fucked up his transition so bad-"

"I did my best, water and quint are such unstable elements-"

"-had him repatching himself on a molecular fucking level-"

"-was the first ever attempted, I didn't know that would happen, he begged me to-"

"-and now Delta's half dead on a hospital bed, and it's all because of you, are you proud, Omega-"

The room disolves in chaos, between Pebble's accusation becoming more and more frantic, Omega attempting to defend himself while slowly crumbling, Ivy begging them to stop, Ifrit breaking down again, sobs raking his whole body while Zephyr does their best comforting and shushing him, Mist seemingly hesitating between knocking someone out or banging her head against the wall.

Alpha's head is pounding, the image of Delta laying lifelessly on white sheets barely paler than him bounces inside of it, a spike of nausea-inducing panic nearly has him retching, and that's just it.

The second Pebble manages to wiggle his way out of Ivy's grasp, lunging claws first toward Omega, Alpha's instinct kicks up. He tackles the earth ghoul, one arm around his waist, the other around his middle, trapping Pebble's arms against his body. Uncaring of the thrashing, Alpha holds on tight.

"Let it all out. Come on, give me everything, give it to me, i can take it."

And Pebble does. Kicks, yells, spits curses, snaps his jaws, even sinks his fangs in Alpha's shoulder, but the fire ghoul doesn't budge, kneeling on the worn carpet, arms unyielding around him even as he calls him every names under the sun and then more.

After a while, the earth ghoul slumps, and Alpha knows he's crying silently of his shoulder, can feel the dampness through his shirt, the occasional twinge of salt on the fresh bite mark there. It speaks volume on Pebble's emotional state, that he let himself cry on Alpha of all people ; any other day, the fire ghoul would get disembowled if he had the unfortune of seeing Pebble with even the slightest hint of tears in his eyes.

"Alright. You're alright."

A shaky exhale, a shudder. Pebble doesn't look at anyone when Alpha releases him, making a beeline for the door, no doubt heading for the infirmary, but he pauses at the threshold. Hand lingering on the handle. He doesn't look back, but the hesitation is there. A heartbeat later, he's gone.

Alpha shares a look with Mist, who's helping Ivy get to the couch next to where Ifrit curled against Zephyr in distress. She jerks her chin toward Omega, then sticks her thumb in the direction of the huddled mass of ghouls on the couch.

You deal with him, I deal with them.

Smart girl.

Alpha glances at where Omega slid down against the wall, knees to his chest, eyes staring unseeingly. With a heavy heart, the fire ghoul reads the pain clear as day on the quint's pinched features.

There will be many more tears to drytonight.

[womp-womp-waa]

They were having a family barbecue to celebrate Cara's birthday, her cousins were there. It was nice, she didn't usually get to see them as Ben moved out of their house when she was born. Her parents decided to never tell Cara why Ben was living with them anyways and her older brother... he doesn't like talking to her that much.

As much as she loved to have everyone around, she always could see Ben and Lily together. Laughing, smiling, enjoying their time together. She loved to see them happy, she loved them. But, why couldn't she have that? What did she do wrong to Aiden? Why must he always be so cold towards her?

She tried to learn lessons from Lily based on how she acted to get Aiden to like her. It didn't work. He still avoided her like the plauge. And that's when it hit her, Aiden did get along with Lily. But he was basically siblings with Ben. That was it! She had to learn from Ben, she just had to be more like Ben. So she changed whenever Aiden was around she would become quiet and started to write poetry like Ben did. Every single time she tried to show Aiden all he said was "That's great. Why don't you show mum?" Then dismissed her and returned back to his room, where he spent all of his time.

It made her heart ache whenever Lily and Ben spent their time together. It seems like they're just flaunting their amazing relationship just to mock her. Something to show her what her and Aiden could've been, but can't. For the simple reason that she was born and that was her mistake.

No matter how much her parents shower her in love and attention it didn't matter to her. All she wanted was the attention of her brother, if only for a second. That's all she wanted, can she please have that?

[kon-konk]

I can't help but think of Ren having a crush on someone that Sho is flirting up.

Ren's watching from the counter every time Sho brings them with him to the diner. Ren wants to shout that Sho's just trying to get into their pants. He groans every time they laugh at something Sho says because he can't help but picture what must be going on behind closed doors and he hates it so much

And one day Sho's trying to help them get something off a high shelf, and he grunts as he stretches and Ren just knows they've got to be secretly banging in the storage room instead of getting equipment off the shelf but he doesn't have the fucks to give to tell them to knock it off

[venivenias]

this fanfic.

[syb-la-tortue]

How do you think Deku's closest friends/family would react to him suddenly crying? I've been reading a lot of Angst and Hurt/Comfort fanfic and I was curious to see what you'd think.

Personally, I think Ochako would immediately hug him, no questions asked.

Bakugo would guide him to somewhere they would sit down and he'd stick with him.

but like, why is he crying? because Deku suddenly crying is just a thing he does every time he gets an emotion, he's a crybaby that's part of his character, and I say that in the most affectionate way I love that side of him X3

how his friends will react will just depend on why he's crying in the first place so yeah Ochako might hug him, or offer him a tissue, maybe they're sit down and have a talk, we know Todoroki and Iida will offer him food and try to cheer him up Bakugou I see being not very comfortable with other people's tears, so he might nope out of here or say something to make Deku stop crying Kiri being a empathic crier would just cry with him and they'd flood the room u_u