#THIS INFORMATION WAS NEVER SHARED WITH ME BEFORE

[kiwriteswords]

congrats on your 2k 🎉

for missing scene Monday, could we get bearded Hotch's new gf he met on his secret assignment in Pakistan?? I'll leave it to you if you want to extend it back to the US and the BAU team!!

Just begging for anything with bearded Hotch and yes this was inspired by your 2k celebration gif choices ❤️ love ya!

Let It Be [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||Main Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 8k|| AN: Thank you so much for sending this request so early for day one! I was able to get a head start on this last week, and I really love how it turned out!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, canon-divergent, beard!hotch, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, banter, Hotch in Pakistan, non!BAU reader, kinda left tbc?

Summary: Hotch meets you on assignment in Pakistan, and you're exactly what he was looking for...someone who's just there without pushing.

The sun was relentless, bearing down on the barren expanse surrounding the base. Sweat collected under your tactical gear, but you barely noticed. It was the kind of heat that stripped away all distractions, leaving you focused on the mission ahead--or at least trying to be.

You adjusted the strap of your duffel bag and glanced around the bustling camp. This wasn’t your first special operations assignment, but the tension in the air felt different here. Heavier. 

It could have just been you dragging the weight of unresolved emotions halfway across the world, or it could have been the stakes of the mission--a dangerous operation involving an international terrorist cell that required precision, discretion, and teamwork between agencies not known for always getting along.

“Agent Y/L/N?”

The voice was deep, cutting through the camp noise. You turned and found yourself face to face with a tall man, his sharp features etched into a permanent state of seriousness. His gaze was steady, and his presence commanded attention without effort.

“That’s me,” you replied, clipped but polite.

He stepped closer, extending a hand. “Aaron Hotchner, unit chief for the BAU.”

The name was familiar. You had read the reports and heard the stories--his work on high-profile cases, his leadership, and his reputation for being unflinchingly methodical. You shook his hand, noting the firm grip and how it matched the intensity in his dark eyes.

“Special Agent Y/L/N, CIA Directorate of Operations,” you said, introducing yourself with the same straightforward efficiency. “Behavioral analyst and covert operations specialist.”

His brow shifted slightly, just enough for you to notice. He nodded, acknowledging your credentials with a quiet respect.

“Briefing starts in five,” he said, his tone all business. Then he turned and walked away, leaving you with the distinct impression that there was more to him than the stoic exterior he projected. You had worked with people like him before--people who carried their burdens in silence--but something about the weight in his eyes made you wonder if he had brought his own ghosts to this mission, much like you had.

….

The first few days were a blur of briefings, strategy sessions, and late nights poring over intel. You didn’t interact much with Hotch beyond the occasional exchange of information, but you caught yourself noticing him. The way he carried himself--calm and composed, but with an edge of tension that never seemed to leave him. You recognized it because you felt it, too.

As you reviewed reports in the command tent one night, he walked in, filling the space. He set a folder on the table and glanced at you.

“You’ve been here for hours,” he said, not a question but an observation.

You shrugged, keeping your focus on the documents in front of you. “So have you.”

“I’m used to it,” he replied, his tone neutral.

“So am I.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, he pulled out a chair and sat across from you, his gaze steady.

“It’s easier to keep busy,” he said quietly as if he was sharing a truth he rarely voiced.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. There was something there--something raw and unspoken. You wanted to ask what he was running from, but you didn’t. You weren’t ready to share your own truths, so you didn’t ask for his.

….

The nights were the hardest. The quiet gave your mind too much room to wander, dredging up memories you’d rather forget. One evening, you found yourself outside, staring at the vast expanse of desert under a blanket of stars. You didn’t expect company, but the sound of footsteps behind you made you turn.

It was Hotch.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

He shook his head, stepping closer until he was standing beside you.

“Me neither,” you admitted.

For a while, you just stood there, the silence between you feeling strangely comfortable.

“I read your file,” he said eventually, his tone careful.

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Did you now?”

“You’ve handled some difficult assignments. Made a name for yourself.”

There was no arrogance in his words; it was just observation.

“Guess you could say I have a knack for throwing myself into the fire,” you replied. Something flashed across his face like he was going to respond with something, but he didn’t.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but his presence was steady, almost calming.

“Why are you really here?” you asked, breaking the quiet. Nobody in their right mind would have volunteered for this unless they either A) had nobody to go home to at night, or B) were trying to forget about something else. You could tell by the small photo Hotch carried around of, presumably, his son it wasn’t option A.

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low, almost reluctant. “Because it’s easier than being back home.”

You nodded, understanding more than you cared to admit. “Yeah. Same.”

He glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “What are you running from?”

You hesitated, the question hitting too close to home. “A mistake. One I don’t want to repeat.”

He didn’t press for details, and you were grateful. Instead, he said, “Sometimes running is the only way to keep moving.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if you agreed.

……

As the mission dragged on, the weight of it started to press down on both of you. You began to notice how Hotch avoided certain topics, not that personal topics frequently came up. You noticed how his eyes darkened when the name "Prentiss" came up from the communication specialist on the special ops team.

You didn’t ask--he didn’t offer--but the pieces slowly started to come together. You had to be living under a rock in this field not to have heard about the major loss the BAU took this past year.

One night, after another tense meeting, you found yourselves in the makeshift kitchen, both reaching for the last cup of coffee.

“You take it,” you said, stepping back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“I insist. I’ve had worse days.”

Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of understanding. “I doubt that.”

You smirked, the slightest crack in your guarded exterior. “Careful, Hotchner. That almost sounded like empathy.”

His lips twitched--the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him. “Don’t get used to it.”

….

A sudden sandstorm sent the entire team scrambling for cover. The wind howled outside the command tent, shaking the canvas walls as you huddled with Hotch and two other agents.

“Typical,” you muttered, brushing sand off your gear. “Mission’s hard enough without Mother Nature making it worse.”

Hotch sat across from you, his expression unreadable as he tightened the straps on his vest. He was scruffier than he was when you first arrived. It wasn’t a bad look, but you brushed down that thought.

“You’ve been through worse,” he said matter-of-factly, not a question but a statement.

You let out a short laugh. “Don’t give me too much credit, Hotchner. I’m not invincible.”

“No one is,” he replied, his tone softer than you expected. “But you’re resilient. I can see that.”

The compliment, if you could call it that, caught you off guard. You didn’t reply, unsure how to. Instead, you focused on the storm outside, the roar of the wind drowning out everything else.

But later, when the storm passed, and you stepped out into the eerily quiet desert, you found yourself glancing at Hotch. He met your gaze for a moment, and something unspoken passed between you--a mutual respect, a shared understanding.

….

It was late, and the compound was finally quiet. You were seated at a makeshift table, cleaning your sidearm, when Hotch approached with two cups of coffee.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said as he set one down in front of you.

“I doubt that,” he replied, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

You took a sip, wincing at the bitter taste. “God, this is terrible.”

“It’s coffee,” he said with a small shrug as if that explained everything.

You glanced at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Do you ever lighten up, Hotchner?”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “On occasion.”

“Define ‘occasion.’”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting to the weapon in your hands. “When it’s earned,” he said finally.

It was a cryptic response, but it made you smile anyway. “Well, I’ll consider this progress.”

He sat with you in silence, but it was comfortable. The company was more needed than either of you realized.

….

The day had been relentless, the kind that left your muscles aching and your mind frayed at the edges. You had lost count of how many hours you’d been awake--thirty, maybe forty. Every bone in your body screamed for rest, but the tension from the mission had settled into your chest, making sleep impossible.

You found yourself outside the command tent, slumping onto an old crate with a half-empty water bottle in your hand. The distant hum of generators buzzed like a white noise machine, masking the desert’s eerie quiet.

Hotch appeared a few minutes later, wordlessly lowering himself onto the crate beside you. His presence, steady as always, should have been comforting, but tonight it only made the lump in your throat harder to ignore.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You told yourself you liked the silence, but the truth was, it gave your thoughts too much room to spiral. Your chest felt tight, and despite the coolness of the night, your face burned with exhaustion-fueled frustration.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could stop them.

Hotch turned his head toward you, his face unreadable but his attention sharp. “Why do you say that?”

You let out a shaky breath, staring out into the endless darkness of the desert. “Because I’m running. I didn’t know what else to do.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your own admission. “I thought putting space between me and...everything would help, but maybe it just makes it worse.”

The words sat heavy in the air, and you instantly regretted saying them. You felt exposed, as though admitting it aloud would make it all the more real. Your hands fidgeted with the bottle, and you kept your gaze fixed ahead, unwilling to meet his.

You thought about the way your life had pretty much unraveled around you back at home. If it wasn’t for work, you’re not sure you’d still be standing on your two feet. Here you could be the strong, independent person you aspired to be. At home, you were heartbroken without an end in sight. 

The silence stretched long enough that you thought he wouldn’t respond. But then, in that low, even voice of his, he said, “It doesn’t make it worse. It just makes it...quieter. And sometimes quiet is all you can handle.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet vulnerability in his tone. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, distant and heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Is that why you’re here?” you asked softly, the rawness in your voice betraying how fragile you felt.

He nodded, barely perceptible, his gaze never leaving the horizon. “I thought being here might help me make sense of things. But some things…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. “Some things don’t have answers.”

There was something about the way he said it--not defensive, not self-pitying, just honest. It broke through the dam inside you, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you might cry.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat tightening. The weight of his answer settled between you, tangible and heavy, yet somehow reassuring.

For the first time, the silence felt like a shared space rather than an empty one. You didn’t push for more. You couldn’t, not with your emotions already threatening to overflow. But as the desert night pressed in around you, you realized you didn’t need to.

Whatever walls you both had built were starting to crumble, and neither of you seemed inclined to stop it.

…..

The air in the abandoned warehouse was stifling, thick with the smell of rust and dust. You moved carefully, your weapon drawn and your eyes scanning every shadow. Hotch was just behind you, silent but steady, his presence grounding you in the tense atmosphere.

The intel had been solid: a potential threat against the local embassy was being planned here, and your team had been tasked with gathering evidence. But now, as you crept deeper into the maze of crates and machinery, something felt off. The place was too quiet.

A faint creak made you freeze. You glanced back at Hotch, and he gave a subtle nod, his dark eyes sharp with focus. He gestured for you to take the left while he veered right. You obeyed without question, trusting his instincts as much as your own.

You edged around a stack of crates, your pulse quickening. The sound came again--a faint shuffle, followed by a whisper of movement. You tightened your grip on your weapon, adrenaline flooding your system.

Then everything exploded at once.

A figure lunged from the shadows, slamming into you with enough force to knock you off balance. Your weapon clattered to the floor as you struggled against the assailant, their grip bruising as they tried to pin you down.

“Agent Y/L/N!” Hotch’s voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline.

You twisted, freeing one arm, and drove your elbow into the attacker’s side. They grunted, loosening their grip just enough for you to push them off. But before you could retrieve your weapon, another figure appeared, this one heading straight for Hotch.

“Behind you!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet.

Hotch spun just in time, deflecting the attacker’s blow and delivering a calculated strike that sent them stumbling. But the odds were quickly stacking against you--more figures emerged from the shadows, their movements coordinated and purposeful.

“Fall back!” Hotch ordered, his voice calm but commanding.

You grabbed your weapon and fell into step beside him as the two of you retreated toward the exit. The sound of footsteps echoed behind you, growing louder with each passing second.

“We’re not going to make it out clean,” you said, your voice tight as you scanned for cover.

Hotch’s jaw clenched. “We don’t have to. We just need to slow them down.”

He pointed to a stack of crates near the exit, and you understood immediately. You fired a few shots, not aiming to hit but to force your pursuers to take cover. Then, together, you pushed the nearest crate, toppling it over and creating a barricade that bought you a few precious seconds.

“Go!” Hotch barked, motioning for you to move ahead.

“No way,” you snapped, falling into position beside him. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

His gaze flicked to you, something unspoken passing between you. It wasn’t the time for arguments, so he didn’t push it.

The two of you moved as one, covering each other as you navigated the narrow corridors toward the exit. Your heart pounded in your ears, but you didn’t let it distract you. Hotch’s steady presence was all you focused on, his calm precision a stark contrast to the chaos around you.

Finally, you burst into the open air, the sounds of shouting and gunfire fading behind you. You didn’t stop running until you reached the safety of the extraction point, where reinforcements were waiting.

You doubled over, hands on your knees as you caught your breath. Hotch was beside you, his breathing heavy but controlled.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

You nodded, straightening up. “Yeah. You?”

“I’ve been worse,” he replied, a faint flicker of dry humor in his tone.

You couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “That’s one way to bond, I guess.”

Hotch glanced at you, and for the first time since the mission began, you saw something close to a smile on his face. It was brief, but it was real.

“Good work out there,” he said simply.

“Right back at you,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

In that moment, you realized just how much you trusted him--not just as a colleague, but as someone who had your back, no matter what. And from the way he looked at you, you had the feeling he felt the same.

….

The day had been unusually quiet. The base hummed with its usual activity, but the weight in the air seemed heavier that day. You had noticed it the moment you walked into the briefing room. Hotch had been there, as he always was, but there was something off.

His usual sharp focus felt dulled, his replies curt even for his standards. He spent more time staring at his tablet than actually reading it, and the lines etched into his face seemed deeper somehow.

You weren’t a profiler, but you didn’t need to be to know something was wrong.

Now, hours later, you found him alone in the makeshift command tent, the harsh glow of a desk lamp illuminating the strain on his features. He was seated, elbows on the table and his hands clasped in front of him, staring at a map as if willing it to make sense.

“You’re still at it?” you asked gently, stepping inside.

His head lifted slightly, but he didn’t look at you. “There’s a lot to prepare for.”

“There always is,” you replied, pulling up a chair across from him. “But it’s late. You should take a break.”

“I can’t afford to.”

The edge in his voice wasn’t aimed at you, but it still made you hesitate. You considered leaving him to his work, but something kept you there.

“Hotch,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the tense quiet. “What’s going on?”

He finally looked up, his dark eyes shadowed by something heavy. For a moment, you thought he might tell you, but then his expression hardened, his walls slamming back into place.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, his tone measured but distant.

You didn’t believe him, not for a second. But you also knew better than to push.

Instead, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “You’re allowed to have off days, you know. Even you.”

His lips twitched, almost a humorless smile. “I don’t have the time for that.”

“You’re human,” you countered, your tone steady but not pressing. “It’s not a luxury. It’s just...life.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze dropping back to the table. But his hands, usually so still, were fidgeting now--his fingers twisting the edge of the map absentmindedly.

You let the silence settle between you, giving him space. After a few minutes, you stood and moved toward the coffee pot in the corner of the tent. You poured two cups, setting one down in front of him without a word before returning to your seat.

Hotch stared at the cup for a moment before picking it up, cradling it in his hands like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment.

“It’s fine,” he said abruptly, almost as if he was telling it to himself, though his tone betrayed him. “I just--” He stopped, shaking his head as if to dismiss whatever he’d been about to say.

“You don’t have to explain,” you said quietly, your voice steady. “We all have those days.”

He let out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “This one feels heavier.”

You didn’t know what he was carrying--something about him always felt impenetrable, as though he kept the world at arm’s length. But you didn’t need to know the specifics to recognize the weight he was under.

“You’re allowed to let it feel heavy,” you said after a moment, watching his reaction carefully.

Hotch’s hand tightened around the coffee cup, the faintest flicker of vulnerability flashing across his face before his walls went back up. “I shouldn’t let it distract me,” he muttered.

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table. “Maybe letting yourself feel it for five minutes wouldn’t be a distraction. Maybe it’d just be human.”

He didn’t respond, but his jaw shifted as though he was grinding his teeth. His silence didn’t bother you--it was enough to just sit there, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

After a while, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not digging,” he said, finally looking at you. His gaze softened just enough to make your chest ache. “For just...being here.”

You offered a small smile, reaching across the table and resting your hand lightly over his. It wasn’t much, but the way his shoulders relaxed told you it was enough.

“I’ve got your back,” you said simply. “Whatever it is, you’re not alone.”

Hotch nodded, his grip tightening briefly on the cup before setting it down. He didn’t say anything else, but the tension in the room felt lighter somehow.

The two of you sat there in silence, the night pressing in around you. And while the weight of whatever he was carrying didn’t disappear, you could tell it didn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore.

…

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, reflecting off the shallow, winding river that cut through the barren terrain. You adjusted your gear, sweat dripping down your temple as you followed Hotch’s lead. The mission had gone sideways--nothing catastrophic, but the extraction point was now miles further than planned, and the only route was straight through the rocky riverbed.

“Watch your step,” Hotch warned as he leaped from one jagged boulder to another. His movements were precise, practiced, but you could tell the exhaustion of the day was catching up with him.

“I was planning to fall flat on my face,” you replied, the edge of sarcasm in your voice lighthearted enough to soften the tension.

His lips twitched, that almost-smile you’d grown accustomed to. “Let’s avoid that.”

The river wasn’t deep, but the current was deceptively strong. The rocks were uneven; some were slick with moss, and others were barely stable. The whole setup was a sprained ankle--or worse--waiting to happen.

You made it halfway across before your boot slipped on a loose stone, your footing completely giving out beneath you. You stumbled, and the weight of your gear made it impossible to regain your balance.

Before you could hit the water, a substantial hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you upright. The force of it brought you chest-to-chest with Hotch, his grip firm and steady.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and close, his breath warm against your temple.

“Yeah,” you managed, your own breath catching as you looked up at him. His face was inches from yours, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you.

His dark eyes searched yours, something unreadable flickering in them--concern, maybe, or something deeper. He didn’t let go right away, his hand lingering on your arm as though he needed to make sure you were truly steady.

“I told you to watch your step,” he said finally, his tone softer than usual. His words did not match the gentleness in his tone.

“And I told you I was planning to fall,” you shot back, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a wry smile.

His lips twitched again, but this time, it felt closer to a real smile. His hand slipped away reluctantly, the warmth of his touch lingering long after he stepped back.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said, his voice all business again, though you caught the slight shift in his expression--something unguarded, fleeting, but unmistakably there.

…

The day’s trek had left you both bone-weary, but the setting sun brought with it a chill that seeped into your skin. The fire crackled low between you as you sat on overturned crates, the glow casting flickering shadows over the rocky outcrop that served as your makeshift camp for the night.

You had stripped down to your undershirt, your jacket drying on a nearby rock after the river crossing. Hotch sat across from you, rolling his stiff shoulders and rubbing his neck, his usual stoicism slightly cracked by the day’s exhaustion.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” you commented, watching him massage the tension from his muscles.

“So will you,” he replied, his eyes flicking to your bruised forearm from the earlier stumble.

“I bounce back quickly,” you said lightly. “You, on the other hand, might want to consider a hot bath.”

His lips quirked, and he shook his head. “I’ll add that to the list of luxuries I’m missing out on.”

“Right after edible food,” you added, holding up the protein bar you’d been gnawing on. “This is basically punishment.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, and it made your chest tighten unexpectedly. You leaned back slightly, letting the warmth of the fire and the rare ease of the moment settle over you.

“You’re not always so serious, are you?” you asked, half-teasing but genuinely curious.

Hotch glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “Depends on the company.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the lines of exhaustion and something deeper--something you couldn’t quite name but felt pulled toward.

“Well,” you said finally, breaking the tension with a small smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you before he nodded slightly. “You should.”

The fire had long since burned down to embers, but neither of you had moved. The quiet was comfortable now, a shared understanding that didn’t need words.

“You’re different,” Hotch said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. His tone was thoughtful, not heavy, but it made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t expect.

“Different how?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t push,” he said simply. “Most people do. They want something, even if they don’t say it.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening at the vulnerability in his words. “Maybe I just know what it’s like to need space.”

Hotch nodded, his gaze dropping to the glowing embers. “It’s rare,” he said quietly. “And...appreciated.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you realized with a startling clarity that you didn’t want this moment to end. The mission, the chaos, the fleeting moments of quiet connection--they’d all built to this, and you weren’t ready to let it go.

You didn’t say anything, but you shifted closer, just enough that your knee brushed against his. He didn’t move away, and the warmth of his presence felt like an anchor in the cool desert night.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. But when he finally looked at you, the guarded distance in his eyes had softened, replaced by something you couldn’t name but felt deeply.

“Get some rest,” he said eventually, his voice low but gentle. “Tomorrow will come too soon.”

You nodded, standing and brushing the dust from your pants. But as you turned to leave, you paused, glancing back at him. “Good night, Hotch.”

“Good night,” he replied, his gaze following you as you walked away.

And for the first time since this mission began, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time--something you weren’t sure you could name but couldn’t deny was there.

…..

The air in the base felt heavier than usual. The usual hum of activity buzzed in the background, but your focus was locked on the figure in front of you--Aaron Hotchner, standing by the transport vehicle, his duffel slung over his shoulder. A stark contrast to how he had shown up so long ago. Now, slimmer and with a face full of facial hair.

You hadn’t expected the mission to end like this--not with him leaving before it was over. The news had come down hours ago: he had been called back stateside. No explanation, no warning. Just orders.

“Something urgent?” you asked, keeping your tone steady even as you struggled to meet his eyes.

He nodded, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight, a tell you’d come to recognize. “I have to return to Quantico. The team needs me.”

Of course, they do, you thought. You had known from the beginning that this wasn’t his world. His world was back home, leading the BAU, carrying burdens most people couldn’t fathom. Still, the abruptness of his departure left a hollow ache in your chest that you hadn’t prepared for.

You stepped closer, your arms crossed, not out of defiance but to keep yourself grounded. “We’ll manage here,” you said, the words feeling both true and hollow.

Hotch’s gaze flicked to you, his dark eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “You will,” he said, his voice low. “You’re good at this.”

A faint, humorless laugh escaped you. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It was,” he replied, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips before it disappeared.

The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. You weren’t naive. Whatever had brought him here was bigger than the mission, bigger than you. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch him leave.

“Will you be back?” you asked finally, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Hotch hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t know.”

The honesty in his answer hit harder than you expected.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and nodded. “Well, in case you don’t…you know, good luck, Hotch.”

He studied you for a moment, as if committing your face to memory. Then, to your surprise, he stepped closer. His hand reached out, resting lightly on your arm.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, but you didn’t pull away. “For what?”

“For being here. For making this easier,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You searched his eyes, the words catching in your throat. Instead of speaking, you reached up and squeezed his hand where it rested on your arm, the small gesture saying more than words could.

His hand lingered for a moment before he pulled back, his professional mask sliding into place once more.

“They’re waiting for me,” he said, his voice steady but distant.

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Go. They need you more than we do.”

He hesitated again, his eyes flicking to yours one last time. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” you replied, your voice barely audible.

And then he turned and climbed into the vehicle. You stood there, watching as it pulled away, the ache in your chest growing heavier with each passing second.

When the dust finally settled, and the vehicle disappeared from sight, you let out a shaky breath, the reality of his absence sinking in.

You hadn’t expected this assignment to change anything. But now, as you stood alone under the relentless desert sun, you realized just how much it had--and how much he had.

You weren’t sure how you’d get over missing him the way you felt the minute he left your side. 

…

The harsh glow of the tent's fluorescent light was a poor substitute for the sun. You rubbed your temples, trying to chase away the dull ache that had settled behind your eyes after hours of pouring over intel. The mission dragged on, one step forward and two steps back, and you were beginning to feel the weight of it pressing down on you.

The faint crackle of the comm system startled you, drawing your attention to the communications officer stationed at the other end of the tent. His head tilted, listening intently before he turned and called out, “Y/L/N, secure line for you. Priority channel.”

You blinked, confusion flashing across your face. Secure lines weren’t uncommon, but they were usually pre-arranged. Rising from your chair, you crossed the tent, curiosity buzzing in the back of your mind.

When you picked up the headset, the officer handed you a notepad with a string of verification codes scrawled across it. “Verify the code,” he instructed.

You input the code into the secure terminal, and after a moment, the line cleared. “This is Y/L/N,” you said cautiously.

There was a beat of silence, then a familiar voice. “It’s Hotch.”

Back in Quantico, Hotch leaned back in his chair, his fingers gripping the phone tighter than necessary. The bullpen below his office was dim and quiet--most of the team had left for the night, but the stillness did little to ease the weight pressing on him.

The fallout from the Ian Doyle case was still reverberating through the BAU. Emily’s return had blindsided the team, and though he had tried to justify the deception, the cracks in their trust were impossible to ignore. Strauss’s scrutiny had sharpened, and his every decision seemed to be under a magnifying glass.

He hadn’t called to talk about any of that. He couldn’t.

But the familiar tension in his chest--the suffocating combination of guilt, stress, and isolation--had driven him to dial the secure line. He wasn’t even sure you’d pick up, but when your voice filtered through the line, steady and sure, it was like a knot in his chest loosened.

You straightened instinctively, surprise rippling through you. “Hotch,” you repeated, unable to keep the astonishment from your tone. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re not…no,” you assured him, leaning against the edge of the table. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough for you to sense the weight behind it. “I just wanted to check-in. See how things are going on your end.”

You frowned slightly, his words not matching the tension you could hear in his voice. “Things are...as expected. Slow, frustrating, and complicated. But manageable.”

“Good,” he said, the word clipped, almost distracted.

You weren’t a profiler, but the exhaustion in his tone was unmistakable. He sounded like a man carrying too many burdens, with no room to set them down.

“You sound tired,” you said gently, knowing better than to pry.

He let out a soft exhale, the kind that felt heavier than it should. “It’s been a long few weeks,” he admitted, though his words felt like an understatement.

Hotch closed his eyes for a moment, your voice cutting through the static in his mind. He could still see the look on Morgan’s face when Emily had walked into the room, the betrayal simmering under the surface. He could hear the edge in Strauss’s tone as she grilled him about his decision to keep the team in the dark.

But here, with you, there was no judgment. No interrogation.

“You’re taking care of yourself, right?” you asked, keeping your tone light but genuine.

A soft scoff met your ears. “I’m trying,” he replied, the words carrying a note of dry humor.

You smiled faintly, leaning back against the table. “That doesn’t sound convincing.”

His silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy. You knew he wasn’t the type to reach out without a reason, but you also knew he wouldn’t say more than he wanted to. And you weren’t going to push.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.

You blinked. “For what?”

“For picking up,” he said simply. “For not asking.”

Your chest tightened slightly at the honesty in his tone. “Of course,” you replied softly. “You don’t have to explain anything, Hotch. You know that.”

For a fleeting moment, Hotch considered telling you. About Emily. About the team’s trust--or lack of it. But the words felt too heavy…too complicated to put into the space between you. He didn’t want to drag you into the mess, especially not when you had your own mission to worry about.

And yet, knowing you were there, steady and unwavering, brought him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the faint hum of the secure line filling the silence. Despite the distance between you, the connection felt tangible--grounding.

“I should let you get back to work,” he said finally, although his voice sounded reluctant.

“Yeah,” you agreed, even though you didn’t want the call to end. “But Hotch...don’t wait so long to call next time, okay?”

There was a pause, then a quiet, almost imperceptible, “Okay.”

And then the line disconnected, leaving you standing there with the headset in hand and a heaviness in your chest you hadn’t felt in weeks.

Across the ocean, Hotch set the phone down, his hand lingering on the receiver. For the first time in days, the storm inside him felt a little less suffocating. And though he couldn’t explain why, he knew that calling you had been the right choice.

….

Throughout the remainder of your mission in Pakistan, Hotch’s calls came sporadically, never announced, and always brief. Each time the secure line connected, his voice carried a steadiness that seemed to ease the tension that surrounded you. The conversations were simple--updates on the mission, quiet exchanges about the weather, or mutual remarks about the relentless grind of your respective work.

Yet, beneath the surface, those calls meant more. 

They weren’t about the words exchanged but the connection that had grown between you. Somehow, through the static of secure lines and the distance of continents, you felt you knew him intimately. 

Not in the way of shared stories or confessions, but in the quiet understanding of someone who had seen the same kind of pain.

Hotch never spoke about what weighed on him, and you never pressed. He didn’t need to. The heaviness in his tone, the pauses that lingered too long--they told you everything you needed to know. And you, in turn, found comfort in the silence he offered, in the unspoken acknowledgment of your own burdens.

It was a strange closeness, one that felt both fragile and unbreakable. You knew so much about each other, and yet nothing at all. He never asked about what had driven you to this mission, and you never asked about the strain you could hear in his voice. Yet, you understood each other in a way that words couldn’t capture.

In those stolen moments on the phone, it didn’t matter that the world outside was relentless. It didn’t matter that neither of you could put your pain into words. What mattered was that, for a few fleeting minutes, you weren’t alone. And somehow, that was enough.

It was those moments that patched up the pain in your chest, almost making you forget about the heartbreak you left at home. The failed relationships, the loneliness…you wondered how it would continue on--or if it would continue on once you were back home. You hoped. 

…..

The bullpen at the BAU was its usual hive of activity, with agents moving between desks, typing up reports, and chatting quietly between tasks. But today, there was an undercurrent of curiosity rippling through the team--one that centered on Hotch.

Seated at her desk, Garcia spun her chair toward Morgan, a playful smirk on her lips. “Alright, Derek, spill. What’s with the boss man and those secretive phone calls he’s been making?”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “What makes you think I know anything, Baby Girl?”

Garcia raised a skeptical brow, gesturing dramatically toward Hotch’s office. “Because every time he steps in there and picks up that phone, he looks...different. Like, not his usual stressed-out-because-the-world-is-burning look. It’s something else.”

JJ, passing by with a file, paused to join the conversation. “You’re not wrong,” she said thoughtfully. “I noticed it, too. He’s been...quieter lately. More introspective. Not that Hotch is ever exactly chatty, but it’s different.”

Rossi appeared from behind them, holding his ever-present coffee mug. “And you’re all assuming that a few phone calls mean he’s seeing someone?” His tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity behind it.

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the craziest thing,” Morgan replied with a shrug. “The man deserves a little happiness. Maybe he finally found someone who gets him.”

Reid, seated nearby with his tablet, looked up. “It could be related to the fallout from the Doyle case. He might be reaching out to someone for professional advice or support.”

Garcia shook her head dramatically. “Oh, boy-wonder, that’s far too clinical. This is Hotch we’re talking about. If he’s calling someone regularly, it’s personal.”

JJ frowned slightly, leaning against her desk. “Whoever it is, I just hope they’re good for him. After everything with Haley, and now the strain with the team...he needs someone who can be there for him.”

Rossi took a sip of his coffee, his gaze flicking toward Hotch’s closed office door. “Maybe it’s not about what they say. Sometimes, it’s just about having someone who listens. God knows that man doesn’t let anyone in easily.”

The group fell into a contemplative silence, their gazes drifting toward the office where Hotch was currently on a call. Inside, his expression was characteristically composed, but the slight relaxation of his shoulders and the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed something softer.

Morgan broke the silence first, smirking. “Well, whoever this mystery caller is, they’ve got our fearless leader smiling. I say we let him have this one.”

Garcia gasped dramatically, clasping her hands together. “Smiling? You saw him smile? Oh, this is bigger than I thought.”

JJ and Rossi exchanged amused glances, and even Reid couldn’t suppress a small smile at Garcia’s theatrics. But beneath the playful banter, the team shared a collective hope--that whoever was on the other end of those calls was helping their stoic leader carry at least some of the weight on his shoulders.

….

Hotch sat in his office, the low hum of activity in the bullpen barely reaching his ears. His personal phone buzzed on the desk beside him, an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. He frowned, picking it up cautiously. It wasn’t often he got calls from unlisted numbers on this line.

“Aaron Hotchner,” he answered, his tone brisk.

“Well, that’s formal. Do you always answer like you’re being interrogated?”

His breath caught, the familiar voice pulling a genuine, if fleeting, smile to his face. “Agent Y/L/N. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you teased. “Just because I’m not in Pakistan doesn’t mean I’ve vanished. I still exist, contrary to popular belief.”

“Good to know,” he replied, leaning back slightly in his chair. “I heard you finished the mission. Back stateside?”

“For now,” you said, your tone carrying the same measured ease he remembered. “It’s just a pit stop, though. The CIA doesn’t let its covert operatives sit idle for too long.”

“Sounds familiar,” he said, the faintest trace of humor in his voice. “How’s it feel to be back?”

“Strange,” you admitted. “Like I’m not entirely here, you know? You get that, don’t you?”

He did. More than he cared to admit. 

“I do,” he said simply, his voice low.

“And you?” you asked, your voice softening. “How’s the BAU treating you?”

He hesitated, the weight of recent weeks pressing heavily on his chest. The fallout from the Doyle case, Emily’s return, the team’s shaken trust--it all simmered just beneath the surface. But he wasn’t ready to unpack that. Not now.

“Still busy,” he said instead, his voice even. “But you know how it is. Work doesn’t stop.”

“I do,” you replied, a knowing edge to your tone. “Sounds like you’re carrying more than just case files, though.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his grip tightening slightly on the phone. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said finally.

“You always say that,” you said, a note of fond exasperation in your voice. “I’m starting to think it’s your catchphrase.”

“I don’t have catchphrases,” he replied, his lips twitching in the faintest of smiles.

“Sure you don’t,” you shot back. “Next, you’ll tell me you don’t ever crack a smile.”

“That’s a rare occurrence,” he said, his tone lighter.

“Well, I must be one of the lucky few then because I swear I’ve seen it.”

The warmth in your voice caught him off guard, but he didn’t mind it. Not one bit. “You’re in a unique position.”

“Unique, huh?” you teased. “You make it sound so exclusive.”

“It is,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Not many people see past the job.”

Your tone matched his now, the playfulness giving way to something more sincere. “That’s because the job is easier to focus on. It’s harder to look past it.”

He let out a quiet sigh, nodding even though you couldn’t see him. “You’re not wrong.”

The call buzzed with a quiet warmth neither of you acknowledged outright, but both felt. Hotch leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment before letting out a breath. He stared at the phone in his hand, debating whether to say what had been sitting in the back of his mind.

"So, this call," he said, his voice measured but holding a thread of something lighter. "Official business, or are you just checking up on me?"

"Can't it be both?" you asked, your teasing tone doing exactly what you intended--it made him relax, even if just a little.

He let out a soft laugh, surprising himself. "I suppose it can."

"I don’t know," you said, your voice playful. "Can it?"

He hesitated just a moment before admitting, “I actually thought about calling you too; I wanted to see how you were doing. And…I guess I needed to hear a familiar voice.”

The silence between you settled softly, comfortable, and filled with an understanding neither of you needed to articulate.

“Well, I’m doing okay,” you said finally, your tone calm. “Work’s the same. Chaos, classified details, long hours. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he replied, the weight of shared experience clear in his voice. “Too familiar.”

“And you?” you asked gently, your tone softening. “How are you, Hotch? Really?”

He hesitated again, the instinct to protect himself battling against the trust he felt when speaking to you. “I’m…I’m managing,” he said at last, quieter than before. “But it’s...been a lot.”

You didn’t push. You never did. That was one of the things he appreciated most. 

“Well,” you said, the warmth returning to your voice, “if you ever feel like you need to step away from saving the world, give me a call. I’ve got plenty of experience in chaos management.”

He let out another rare, quiet laugh. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” you said lightly. “Don’t be a stranger, Hotch.”

He let the words settle, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t sure what prompted him, but before the conversation could end, he spoke again.

“Actually,” he started, his voice betraying a hint of nerves that even he couldn’t suppress, “have you ever thought about meeting up?” The question lingered, and he immediately wondered if he had overstepped. “I mean, if your schedule allows it,” he added, his tone faltering slightly. “I know how demanding your work is.”

You paused, clearly caught off guard. “Meeting up?” you repeated, a smile audible in your tone. “You mean in person?”

“Yes,” he said quickly before he could second-guess himself. “I just thought…you’ve been a consistent voice through everything, and…” He trailed off, realizing he didn’t know how to explain it without giving too much away. “It would be nice to catch up.”

“I think that sounds...great,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now. “Though I should warn you, Hotchner, I’m still terrible at small talk.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he replied, his lips twitching into a smile.

“Well,” you teased, “I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried.”

“Flattered,” he said, surprising himself again with the sincerity in his tone.

The brief pause that followed carried an unspoken weight, a quiet understanding of the connection that had been building between you since the mission in Pakistan. Neither of you said it outright, but it was there, tangible in the way you lingered on the call longer than necessary.

“I’ll check my schedule,” you said lightly, breaking the silence. “But don’t think I won’t hold you to this.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he replied, his voice steadier now.

When the call ended, Hotch sat back, his thoughts circling the conversation. He realized that while he still didn’t know the full scope of your personal life or if there was someone waiting for you back home, he felt compelled to try--to find out, to see where this connection might lead. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself the thought of something beyond the weight he carried every day.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @superlegend216

[ghostlyferrettarot]

‧₊˚💼✩ ₊˚👓⊹♡Mercury in the signs and how we communicate with others ‧₊˚👓✩ ₊˚💼⊹♡

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

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💄Masterlist💄

☕︎Mercury in Aries: Communication is quick and direct. You are not afraid to speak your mind, and you are likely to do so impulsively. Aries gives Mercury a spark of energy, which can lead to a quick mind and sincere expression. Your communication style is clear, direct, and sometimes a little aggressive, but always full of enthusiasm.

☕︎Mercury in Taurus: Practical and very concrete thoughts. Your way of communicating is slower, thoughtful, and calculated. You prefer stability and clarity in conversations, and you avoid the unnecessary. You can sometimes be somewhat stubborn in your views, but once you make a decision, you stick to it. You focus on the tangible, on what can be seen and touched.

☕︎Mercury in Gemini: Mercury is in its home! Your mind is incredibly agile and curious. You speak quickly, love to learn, and never tire of sharing ideas. You can jump from one topic to another with ease, which can sometimes make it difficult for others to follow, but you always have interesting information and fresh points of view. You are the best at having dynamic and fun conversations.

☕︎Mercury in Cancer: Emotional and deep communication. You have a great ability to sense the emotions of others and express them in a sincere way. Your words are often protective and caring, as you care a lot about how others feel. You can be a little more reserved when communicating, but when you do open up, you do so in a way that touches the hearts of those around you.

☕︎Mercury in Leo: Creative and enthusiastic expression. You have a warm, passionate, and often dramatic way of speaking. You love being the center of attention, and your words tend to shine. For you, communicating is a way of showing your confidence and individuality, and you are not afraid to share your opinions with great confidence.

☕︎Mercury in Virgo: A meticulous and analytical mind. You are detail-oriented and precise in your thoughts and words. You prefer to explain things clearly and logically, with a practical approach. You can sometimes be a bit critical or perfectionist with what you say, but you do this to make sure everything is well-founded. For you, fluid communication is full of useful data and details.

☕︎Mercury in Libra: Diplomatic and balanced communication. You have the ability to see all perspectives of a situation before speaking and prefer to keep the peace in conversations. You have a gift for public relations and making others feel comfortable. Your way of expressing yourself is very considerate and focused on the well-being of others.

☕︎Mercury in Scorpio: Intense, deep and penetrating communication. You love to get to the bottom of things, and you are not afraid to address complicated or secret subjects. You are an excellent conversationalist when it comes to discussing deep and mysterious topics. Sincerity is very important to you, and you can be very persuasive with your words, as you know how to read between the lines and pick up on what is not being said.

☕︎Mercury in Sagittarius: Expansive and philosophical thinking. You are an optimistic, enthusiastic communicator full of ideas. Sometimes you can be a bit direct or even somewhat reckless with your words, as you care a lot about expressing your opinions honestly. You always seek the truth and love to debate philosophical, spiritual or intellectual topics.

☕︎Mercury in Capricorn: Serious, responsible and witty communication. You are very organized in your way of thinking and prefer structured and to-the-point communication. Sometimes you can be reserved or even somewhat pessimistic, but your realistic approach and ability to understand practical details make your words clear and effective. Your way of communicating is serious and mature, which inspires respect.

☕︎Mercury in Aquarius: Your way of communicating is super original and full of new ideas. You love to think differently, break the mold, and talk about things that most people avoid. Sometimes, you may seem a little distant or lacking emotional connection, but that's because your head is always focused on ideas and logic, rather than feelings. Your mind is like a kaleidoscope, always seeing new possibilities and relationships between things that others don't even notice.

☕︎Mercury in Pisces: You are one of those who communicate in a very intuitive and empathetic way. You tend to see the world from your emotions and your imagination, which makes your thoughts sometimes a little difficult to express clearly. That happens because your mind is connected on a much deeper level. You prefer poetry to hard data and what really inspires you is creativity. You are excellent at giving emotional advice or helping others through intuition.

[drdemonprince]

hey there! in regards to ur last ask (about adults in kink spaces online having status quo ideas about kids in those spaces and such, sorry this isn’t a great summary), do you have any ideas on how to combat that? this is a genuine question - those disclaimers of ‘no minors can follow’ and such have always made me a little confused whilst i understood the statement behind them objectively you know? and now that i’m adult (legally - i turned eighteen a couple of months ago), i’m having trouble figuring out how to talk about kink and sex online in a way that doesn’t hurt kids or exclude them. like, i want to post some explicit stuff i’ve written on my blog or ao3, but i know that i have kids subscribed to me since i used to post relatively bland kids stuff for years before that. so like… how would one navigate kink spaces online and general spaces with an attitude of understanding that trying to close off these spaces to kids completely is harmful but that kids can also be harmed by people in these spaces? if that makes sense?

I think it is a really challenging thing to navigate. The way that I handle it personally is that I don't regard it as my responsibility to monitor and police the ages of people following me. I want the information that I put out into the world to be freely available to the people who need it most; one of the ways that I ensure that is by not paywalling any of my writing, and another is by not age restricting things except for when circumstances mean that I absolutely have to. for example: during some of our live streams that have been particularly focused on kink or sex, Maddie and I have flagged the stream as 18 plus out of necessity, and if a member of our chat identifies themselves as being under 18 during such streams, we have to ask them to leave. but in terms of my own private attitudes, I recall accessing porn and sexual writing from a very young age and learning a great deal from it, and I don't think there is anything wrong with a young person doing so. and if a young person has questions around sexual health and safety and they direct them to me, I would generally be comfortable answering those questions or at least directing them to resources. I do all I can to normalize talk about these things and de-exceptionalize sex, and I don't let myself get intimidated by puritanical accusations about that being inherently evil and improper. but I also have really firm digital boundaries in terms of not giving a stranger on the internet much access to my life or getting too overly involved in theirs. I do this because I'm a public figure and people can be very inappropriate with me, but another benefit of this approach is that I'm never really having any kind of conversation with an internet stranger that would immediately turn inappropriate if I would find out that they were a minor. strangers on the internet are strangers. I can pass along resources and share my opinion if they ask me for advice, but I am not developing a close relationship with them or developing anything involving emotional or sexual intimacy with them. or with any, like, fan either. obviously some of this is different from your own situation, but you can probably see the logic here and how you might apply it to your own ways of relating to the subject online. I think there is never any harm in making information available, being aware of what a platform's terms of service are just for the sake of protecting yourself, and maintaining good boundaries with people you do not know while still being friendly, helpful, and cordial.

[shadowthesim237]

ᯓ water fountain

warnings: angst, crying, cheating, commitment issues, a situationship, slightly suggestive if you squint.

( english isn't my first language so sorry for any mistakes! )

⋆.˚ i should've built a home with a fountain for us, the moment that she told me that she was in love - alec benjamin .𖥔˚~

"I love chris, and he loves me back, he cares about me..right?" that's what you kept telling yourself for a year. a whole year of pain and heartbreak. you were so honest with him and quickly opened up about your feelings towards him. but he never made a move or a step further into your relationship..

you shared almost every class in high school, you'd accidentally make eye contact and feel like the rest of the classroom froze and there's only you both in it, so you took the first step and asked for his phone number with the lame excuse of helping each other with homework, but he knew it wasn't true, because he saw the way you'd get all clumsy when he walks past you in the hallway, and how you lose focus when your friend group is trying to have a conversation but he's looking at you.

chris couldn't help it, he caught himself thinking about you all the time that it drove him crazy. he didn't know what made you so special. you're just his classmate and that's all, but his brain kept fighting that information and would still drift back to your stupid smile and your horribly perfect eyes. so when you asked for his number, his mind was a complete mess. but eventually gave up and handed it to you because he was so curious about you, he wanted to get closer and to actually know you.

after only two months of being friends, you were standing by the little water fountain in the hall, you thought he looked so handsome today that you didn't even think twice before saying "i love you", those simple three words escaped your lips while his head was burried in the sink drinking, he almost choked from surprise but reacted casualy and made your feelings feel seen, but what bothered you is the fact that you never heard it being said back once. with every passing day you felt more and more humiliated. why did you ever accept to be in this situation? you let him treat you like you were his, you could hear the jealousy in his tone whenever that boy would try talking to you. but why would he be jealous when you weren't even together.

chris had serious commitment issues and refused to admit it, but it was so clear to everybody else how he kept people at a safe distance, he never passed the talking stage once in his life with a girl, so you thought you were special, he made you feel different than the other girls from the way he treated you, but again nothing changed. you remained unlabeled to him god he never even touched you once it never escalated to anything more than long make out sessions. until one day you decided that you should stop this. he keeps this going and you couldn't take it anymore.

so at that night you were invited to a party and went without telling chris, why should he know what you're doing afterall it was none of his business? you saw that boy who kept asking you out repeatedly making his way towards you through the crowd. you were half drunk and completely unfazed by the guy's tries to talk to you.

you couldn't remember what happened next that made you wake up in that stranger's bed no matter how hard you try to squeeze your brain. you can only form a blurry image of that boy grabbing your hips and pulling you in, you kissed.. you let someone else kiss your lips other than chris. he whispered sweet things in your ear, about how pretty and valuable you are, you know you shouldn't listen, but you yearned that affection, you needed someone to fix that emptiness that chris didn't bother to fill.

you couldn't face chris after what happened, there's no way you were gonna tell him. so you ignored him for a couple of weeks, leaving him on read and not answering his calls, he was dying to know what happened out of a sudden. did he do something wrong? until you couldn't keep hiding any longer, guilt was eating you alive so you just asked to meet somewhere to talk.

the air was thick around you as you tried to put together your thoughts and confront him with the ugly truth that left you feeling dirty.

"I messed up.." your eyes were glistening with tears that your were fighting back. chris just sat in front of you trying to take in what you were saying. you simply cheated on him..

"why.. how could you?" chris was completely shattered and realized how bad he made you feel that it led to this. you tried to apologize but was too choked up from crying. and now nothing could be done to fix this.

he knew you both messed up, he regretted his choices and hated himself for letting you drift away from him. he lost you way before you slept with that guy. now he would often think about how lucky that other dude was, he wished he was in his place, he wanted to hold you close and cherish your body like you were the rarest diamond, but it's too late now, all because he was scared of commitment. the idea of being someone's boyfriend terrified him and now all he do is cry at the memory of you.

he would imagine that you're back with him, his heart now was broken like that water fountain's handle. but he was willing to fix it for you. he thought that if you gave him a chance, he'll open his heart and give it to you. but it's all for no use now that he had lost you. the two of you were still young and naive to go through all that. but you can't go back in time and change it. you're not even friends anymore because you know you did each other wrong and no matter what you'll do it will only hurt you more. so you decided to walk away quietly from each other's lives for the sake of keeping your peace and your dignity. it was the right decision because you still cared about each other's happiness and comfort after all and regretting won't change a thing.

deviders by: @bernardsbendystraws <3

taglist: @anyaa2s @m0nsterhighluvr32 @ily-tothemoonandback @nateismybf @cupiidk1lls @sturniolos4life16 @breesturns @domtorettosfamily @mamamadssss @caroline12b @reader-lola @dealerchr1s @lemonhoney2460 @freakshow-420 @emely9274 @mattsturniolofuckingsexy @jessie-essie @marrykisskilled @meatballlover10 @chrissturnioloslvt @trevorsgodmother @sophand4n4 @stvrnioloslvt @sturnshood @chrisslut04 @courta13 @pair-of-pantaloons

[sexyantichrist]

Welcome to my darkness .

I am shadow the hedgehog . I have been forced to join this website by my boyfriends demand . He is @sonicismyjesus He told me he was “ doing numbers “ on this hellish site so I shall partake as well . He said i needed to make an introduction post and pin it to my profile so lets get this over with .

- im 20

- have very similar beliefs as my boyfriend, as well that shadow is a apt example of a “ anti christ ” type figure , thus I identify as the anti christ and hate Christianity because of this.

- i like most of the sonic franchise except boom and comics before idw as i find both to be poorly written or messy in execution . My favorite games in the franchise are sonic colors / sonic generations .

- my dm’s are closed but ask box will stay open as i’m comfortable with answering any questions , nothing personal about me or my boyfriend though , as i find personal information to be uncomfortable to share publicly .

- do not comment on my typing quirk .

:boundaries

- no minors , or people over 40 , personal preference .

- no flirting with me , i am taken .

- no shadow kin doubles , seeing them makes me disassociate .

- no maria kins , i do not want to be your “ big brother “ or whatever

- no nsfw comments about my kin type .

:Interests

- most of the Sonic franchise

- 2000’s aesthetics.

- history topics such as political / economic state of the 1960’s and world war 2

- the study of evangelical Christian movements 

- slice of life anime

- true crime cases

Follow your own path . Make mistakes and never forget them .

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger part 18 Hermes’ version

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother. Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

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Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Hermes x reader, possible OOC!Hermes, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes.

A/n: Welcome to the Hermes au! Everything leading up to part 18 will have happened the same way, but from this chapter and onwards, things will happen differently.

The trickster God had been popping by every so often, during her time in the woods. Mainly to deliver messages from a very insistent Poseidon. Each time he’d done so she’d tried to refuse listening to his message, but would relent, as the God’s company was quite enjoyable. They’d turned it into an exchange, he’d tell her whatever message Poseidon had for her, and she would share secrets with him about his uncle.

She’d learned a surprising amount of information about the earth shaker during the time she’d spent with him, and Hermes was not complaining about the leverage it gave him over the God. Their banter was enjoyable, and Hermes liked speaking with the girl, but he was getting annoyed with the amount of messages coming from the grovelling God.

“I could tell him to take a hike, or something. Get him off your back.” He offered. Ónoma’s head whipped around to face him, narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. She studied the mischievous God for a moment before replying.

“And what would you ask in return?” She raised an eyebrow, emphasizing her suspicion.

“Smart girl.” The God said, practically patting her head. Ónoma glared at him, unamused at his patronizing tone. “Alright, I’ll tell you, no need to plot my death. That glare of yours is something else.” He mumbled. “All I want is for you to spend a day with me, while I do my duties.”

“That’s all?” She asked, uncertain. There had to be more to it. With a nod of his head gave his answer. “Will it be a specific day? Or will you show up one day and have me drop everything to follow you around?”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine, how am I supposed to follow you around? In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t fly.”

“So many questions. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, darling. Smile, I could be asking for more in return.” He said, playfully.

“What if he doesn’t back off.” She asked, the idea of this possibility had her feeling defeated.

“Oh, he’ll back off, you’ve given me plenty to work with these past days and I can be rather persuasive. If all of that isn’t enough, then we’ll face him, together.” His voice was serious, but he gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Now, do we have a deal?”

“We do.”

“Let’s seal it then.” He offered his hand, then quickly retracted it, mischief brewing in his eyes. “How about we seal it with a kiss.” Ónoma smiled at the offer and nodded. Had Hermes been paying attention to her eyes, he would’ve seen her mischievous look. She placed a kiss on the God’s cheek with lightning speed, then sat back as if nothing happened.

“You never specified what kind.” She grinned at him.

“Why you little- Darling, you are trouble.” The God of trickery had been out tricked, and he was not mad at it.

The next morning Ónoma awoke in her own bed, once again rising with the sun. Aside from not having to sleep in the woods, or being woken up at ungodly hours of the night by Poseidon, it was surprisingly relaxing to sleep in her own bed. She didn’t have to tiptoe in the kitchen in fear of waking her guest, didn’t have to share breakfast, she was free to do as she pleased in her own home, and it was incredibly liberating.

For the first time in what felt like ages, she could take a walk as the sun was rising, though she did not get too close to the sea. After she had the time to play the lyre, something she’d also do every morning, at least, when Poseidon hadn’t been in her home. Just as she was starting to wonder if Hermes had forgotten about their deal, he approached. She moved to get up from underneath her tree, but the God stopped her.

“Don’t let me stop you from playing, darling, finish your song, I’ll wait.” He said, sitting down in front of her. As she finished her song, she offered him a peach, which he accepted gratefully. “It’s a shame I traded the lyre, if I hadn’t, perhaps I would’ve been able to listen to you play all day.” He grinned at her as he spoke. “Alas, there’s work to do, but before we leave, can I wash my hands?”

As she glanced him over, she realized he was pretty much covered in peach juice. Aside from his sticky hands, there were droplets trailing from the corners of his mouth, down to his chest. Ónoma giggled, and flushed, at the state of the God, and led him inside to wash off.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” She asked.

“So many questions darling, just wait and see.” The God spoke as he exited her bathroom, still dabbing his chest with a damp cloth. “Though I do have a bit of a surprise for you, but you’ll see it when we get there.” Ónoma tilted her head at the man, questions whirling around in her head, but she didn’t ask them, for she knew she would get no answer. One, however, escaped her still.

“I thought you told me to ask questions.”

“I suppose I did, but I never said I would answer them.” He replied, giving her a lopsided grin.

@apollos-dodgeball-target @barrythestrawberry041 @darling-eos @doodle-with-rhy @glaciuswduo @hardbarbarianfox @h0ne4bee @isla-finke-blog @keikeiluvyou @missam @suckerforblondies @trashcannotbealive @visha1965

[itz-mfkn-de]

..Temporary Fix..

Chapter three- I’ll wait for you.

!!please read previous chapters if not already done here!!

——

You couldn’t stop thinking about that day with Theodore in the locker room. You knew you shouldn’t have done it, and your regret was eating away at your conscience. The following day after it had all went down, Theodore hadn’t spared you a single glance, not anymore than he usually would have that is. Your heart clenched everytime you saw him in the hallways and he walked past you without a word spoken between the two of you.

You figured this is what he did with them all; after he gets what he wants he’ll just throw them away. You had successfully become another check in his book, after preaching to yourself for so long you wouldn’t be. You wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, you had always been fond of the flirtatious boy, but so had every other girl at Hogwarts. You never stuck out to him.

However, you wouldn’t let yourself sob over a boy who had no care for you. You had things to get done.

You and Caris were working on a project in the hufflepuff common room, the two of you sharing laughs and small talk. Suddenly you heard familiar voices bellowing through the large entryway.

Caris turned her head around momentarily, mouth agape at the sight.

“The Slytherin boys are here, with a few of our own.” She said just above a whisper.

You snapped your head, not believing her for a second. She was right. Draco, Theodore, and Blaise were with two other Hufflepuff guys, the group seemed to be having friendly banter. An unusual sight.

They all took a seat on a couch and began talking, Theodore lighting a cigarette.

“Jeremy will kill me if I allow him to do that in here, I have to say something.” Caris mumbled while getting up to go address the rowdy group of boys.

“What—Caris, sit your ass down.” You tried to reach for her but she was already out of your range, walking gracefully towards what you were sure was your end.

You quickly got up trying to stop her, but it was to no avail.

“Hey. I’m sorry to inform you, Nott, but we don’t smoke in here.” She told him monotonously.

You stood slightly behind her, not making eye contact with any of the boys in-front of you.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware. (Y/n), were you aware of this rule?” He suddenly addressed you, looking up at you through his dark lashes.

You held back every negative feeling you had for him in that moment and decided to not respond, instead looking at Ryan, one of the Hufflepuff boys that had so generously brought Slytherins into the common room.

“Ryan, may I speak to you? Privately, of course.” You asked, a sweet tone smothering your words. His eyes opened in shock.

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded his head. You turned around, beginning to head towards a private place. Of course, not before you saw Theodore’s dark expression. His brows furrowed together as he blew a bit a smoke out of his nostrils. Caris continued to lecture him while you walked away with Ryan.

You came to a stop where you turned around to face him.

“What the fuck Ryan, when have you guys ever been even remotely friends with..them?” You snarled out.

“Calm down, I’m not quite sure either. They just all of the sudden became….cool with us? I don’t know. They stopped being assholes so it’s whatever.” He told you, picking at something on his hand.

“It is not whatever. I cannot stand them enough at it is, I don’t need them in our common room!” You nearly whined out. You and Ryan had been friends since second year, but of course as you two grew older you hung out less. You still considered him close to you though.

“I don’t get why it’s such a big deal, one of them fuck you over or something?” He let out a hallow laugh.

“What? No! I just… they are dicks.” Your heart dropped as he called you out. You were glad he didn’t know, it gave you reassurance that Theodore wasn’t opening his mouth to anyone who could breathe.

“Right…I’m sure they won’t be around for long. I need to go back over there before they think we are snogging eachother.” He laughed once more, nonchalantly walking back to where everyone resided.

You stayed in the empty corridor and decided it would better if you didn’t return to the room. You began to walk towards the dorms when a heavy set a footsteps made you turn your head.

You couldn’t catch a fucking break.

Theodore nott, in all of his glory, was angrily walking towards you.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, not wanting to face him you kept walking as well. He grabbed you wrist, whipping your body around to look at him.

“The fuck was that?” He growled out, his usual care free demeanor no where near.

“Oh so now I’m worth your time? Fuck off.” You hated being mean to people, but you couldn’t hide your resentment for the boy in front of you.

He pushed you against a wall, your bodies touching. You were sure he could feel you heart beating out of your chest.

“I try and talk to you and you ignore me, and then you ask a guy if you can go somewhere alone?” His voice was deep, his accent growing thicker the more he spoke.

“You two make out or something? Did you suck his dick too?” He asked through his gritted teeth.

You felt embarrassment flood your features, he had no right to speak to you after how he acted. You felt tears prick at your eyes.

“Excuse me? I was asking him a question.” You said while shoving him off you while wiping one of your Flushed cheeks.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but you don’t get to throw me away like one of your little toys. I’m not gonna be one of your bitches.” It took all of your will to not start sobbing in front of him.

“When I did that with you, it was because I had thought…for some dumb fucking reason I thought you genuinely wanted me. I know now that was really stupid. I should’ve known better and that was my bad, but you don’t get to blow up on me like this after how you’ve been acting the way you have.” You managed to muster up the courage to speak out at him, your voice only cracking once.

He stayed silent most of the time; his angry expression was no longer on his face.

“Amore, I haven’t been acting any way—“ his sweet voice mumbled out.

“Don’t try and act like you care now, and yes you have. You ignored me. Not even a hello when you saw me.” You barked at him. You knew there was no need for such aggression but you had so many feelings in your heart that you couldn’t bury down.

“I thought that’s what you would’ve wanted— I didn’t think you’d want anything attached to it.” He reached his hand out to caress your face, in which you swatted him away.

“You didn’t think to ask? You assumed that’s what I wanted.” You felt the tears slowly dripping down your cheeks again.

“I’m not that kind of girl Theodore and I’m sorry that you didn’t realize it, but I refuse to be someone’s secret fuck buddy.” You turned around, ready to walk away. Theodore let out a grunt and grabbed you once more.

“Quit fucking walking away from me.” He said, this time not releasing your arm from his grasp.

“I wasn’t asking you to be my secret fuck buddy, I would never be little you to such bull shit. You’re more than that, and I’m sorry that I made you feel that way.” He let out, seemingly looking for the right words to say as he went on.

“You don’t need to make me feel better, I know about all of the girls you mess with. You fuck with them and then all of the sudden drop them leaving them heart broken, I know how you do things, Theodore.” You felt like the more you spoke to him, the less angry you were and you absolutely hated how he could break your walls down so easily.

“You don’t know shit. Not anymore. It’s different, and I’m sorry I can’t find the best words to explain it to you right now, but I promise you I would never do that to you.” His eyes never broke your own, their stormy gray color mesmerized you.

“I want to believe you so bad, but I don’t know if I can find it in myself to do so.” Your voice was quiet and held no effective dominance. You wanted to make him scared, you wanted to scream and shout, but you could never. Not at him.

“That’s fine, I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as you need me too.” He immediately retorted with, slightly nodding his head.

“Don’t do that.” You couldn’t let him find his way right back into your heart.

“I don’t need any of those girls, I need you. I’m sorry I didn’t specify that sooner.” He apologized again.

“Theodore—“

“I should’ve asked you to the Yule ball the second I had the chance that day in our fourth year but I always thought you were too sweet for me, I never deserved someone so loving.” He cut you off, not allowing you to argue.

“meriti qualcuno migliore di me, ma non vivrò mai abbastanza per vedere il giorno in cui un altro uomo ti toccherà.” (You deserve someone better, but I would never live to see the day another man touched you.)

At that point he was talking to himself, you didn’t understand much Italian, but you knew what he said revolved around another man and you. Judging by his facial expression, he didn’t like the idea of such.

“Do you give this speech to every girl you piss off?” Usually you would laugh at your own joke, but this time your heavy heart prevented you from doing so.

“Just the ones that look like you, bella ragazza.” He responded as quickly as you had finished the sentence, his eyes holding a genuine look you hadn’t ever noticed before.

You didn’t respond, instead you looked down at the ground.

Just as Theodore was about to continue speaking, an angry Draco came around the corner.

“Oi, I’m not sure what weird shit yall are doing back here, but we have to go Theodore. I don’t know if you want me to announce the reason in front of little Mrs Hufflepuff over here.” No matter the circumstances Draco never failed to say something snarky to you.

“Right, I’ll be there soon mate.” Theodore dismissed him. His voice void of all previous emotions.

He gave you one last look,

“Take as long as you need to think about was I said. I’ll wait for you, Amore.” He finished. Turning around and heading towards Draco’s voice. Leaving you with a whole new list of shit to sort out.

You gave it a minute before you ran out to find caris. The second you spotted her, you nearly sprinted to her side.

“Gods! What?!” Caris yelped out.

“I don’t know what too do— Theodore and me did some stuff and I knew I shouldn’t have but I did it anyways and then he ignored me and then I got mad at him and now he’s claiming he wants me and idontknowwhatthehelltodo—“ caris cut off your rambling with a hand over your mouth.

“First of all, you’re stupid. Second of all, why the hell would you believe anything he says? He literally gets called Italian playboy. As if that isn’t enough evidence.” She scoffed.

“Okay well, I’m not sure how to explain it to you. But he said he’d wait for me to think about giving him a shot, but I don’t know.” You slid down into the couch and covered your face with your hands.

“Do whatever feels right, but I’m going to be honest with you. He’s not a good person, but if you honestly want to let him in like that, go ahead.” She closed her eyes and sighed, putting a hand on your leg.

“Right. Whatever feels right.”

[kitana-coldfire]

Hello, Sno4wy.

Well. Ain't this a bitch of an unsatisfactory situation you've put me in.

Not Simprock, not Robyn, not Mackey– you, Snowy. No one else.

Now, before we go any further: You claimed in the now-'archived’ (read: deleted) harassment support thread in EO that you didn't send that document to anyone except Gerald, specifically because– and I quote: “the document isn’t okay for sharing publicly.as it is” [sic], but that “[you’ve] not granted permission to it to anyone but Gerald”.

Wow. Well, I had my suspicions before, but I was almost kinda glad to get the hard confirmation that you never really cared about me enough to consider me ‘anyone’.

But the fact of the matter is: you sent that document to me unprompted on January 30th, 2025 (ostensibly as the 'receipts' you've been promising for months now). Why did you send it to me? Hell if I know, cause I sure never asked to see it! You just... gave it to me. And now here we are.

Now, I don't expect you to actually read this (after all, you've got quite the track record of refusing to read anything you consider to be ‘DARVO’ing you), I’m just gonna go ahead and consider this an open letter and move on.

Though, if you are reading this: for the record? I didn't want to do this; drag myself out in the open, air your dirty laundry for all to see. Sure you blocked my DMs and timed me out on EO, but did I do anything about it? No, I rolled my eyes and got back to work on censoring the very dangerous document you had unceremoniously foisted upon me:

And here’s the kicker: I had every intention of keeping this private; or, well, mostly private.

I will admit, once I finished scrubbing the doc of the personal and private medical information that you failed to redact yourself before just handing it off to me (for some ungodly reason), my plan at that point was to simply open a ticket, go: "Hey, it seems Snowy blocked me and put me in timeout before I could get the censored version of this document back to him like I promised I would multiple times. Please ensure it gets into his hands", and then just leave the matter be.

After all, whatever fallout you faced behind the scenes after weaponizing your position and lying about not sending it to anyone else due to it being NOT OKAY TO SHARE PUBLICLY by your own admission wouldn’t be my problem, it'd be yours. I’d have followed the rules, cleared my conscience, and would’ve been able to wash my hands of you forever with my head held high.

Granted, you never actually asked me to censor the document either, but that's not entirely surprising now because, after looking back at our chat logs, I realized you never even attempted to get to know me past what you assumed to be true. If you had, you'd have learned that not only am I a “known lover of walls of text”, but that I also do not take kindly to hypocrisy and manipulative behavior. And upon further review, the record clearly shows that you displayed both of those in spades during our (blessedly) few interactions.

Funnily enough though, the record will also show that you never once contacted me unless you wanted something from me; namely, for me to get involved in your personal harassment drama in some way (which you actually acknowledged I wanted no part of!)

But at the same time: I was already exposed to the information you sent me, so I felt that personally ensuring the censorship of the private medical information you dropped in my lap apropos of nothing– on people who are complete strangers to me, no less!– was simply the ethical and moral thing to do to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.

That said: I'll be the first to admit I made a mistake in that I did forget to inform you that I had begun work on censoring the document in your stead. That was completely on me, and I apologize once again for my failure to communicate that in a more timely manner:

But I’m sure you’ll be willing to cut me some slack; after all, I was distressed by your egregious lack of basic decency.

Also, don't even bother trying to turn the fact that I made a copy around on me; I outright told you I did (you never once commented on that fact, either).

...then again, you also admitted you didn't even look at the body of the document before just sending it off to a stranger on the internet– but we'll get to all that soon enough.

Unfortunately, however, it seems that being a self-centered asshole just wasn't enough for you, as just a few hours after being timed out for a week, I woke up to find myself kicked– actually, no, banned– from EO, despite me clarifying that this was NOT an EO matter; because it wasn't. By and large, this was an issue between you and me, and aside from me getting the document to you, no one else from EO needed to get involved out in the open.

I was trying to follow the rules. I was trying to settle this privately as requested; keep it outside of the server to the best of my ability considering the ethical dilemma this document posed.

Quick sidebar: To the mod I contacted regarding this matter (and you know who you are), please feel free to DM me again if your “ears” are actually as open as you claim they were a few days back, because I’ll be happy to discuss the matter of Snowy harassing me in DMs for months on end– which you didn’t even give me the chance to explain one-on-one before blocking me– in greater detail!

Though I would suggest you read what I’m linking at the bottom of this post first before doing so. Don’t worry, its only, like 70-ish pages long and mostly screenshots (which is also much shorter than the approximately 300 page document Snowy handed off to me last week!). Still, take your time! I'll be waiting.

Anyway, let's take a look at the reason I got ousted from EO, shall we? (With a small addendum that I didn’t contact anyone I knew only from the server, and I had ample reason to believe that contacting them would be okay. Still, I recognize I misspoke in this message you never saw, and I apologize):

Huh. Interesting. Now, I’d ask to see copies of the DMs I sent people I knew only from EO to warrant a ban of that nature, but I know neither Snowy nor any of the other mods will be able to produce them. Because they don’t exist.

In fact, I resolved not to contact the single individual I recognized only from EO whose username and screenshots were used in the document (just to ask them how they'd like to have their information handled, mind you); I was going to simply censor it as a courtesy and leave it at that.

I was truly trying to do everything I could to stay within the letter of the law given the circumstances I had been put in to AVOID a ban on these grounds, as per the moratorium the mods placed on the subject on February 5th, 2025:

Still, while it’s upsetting to get ousted from a server, it's actually not my first rodeo in that regard; back in October, I (and about 60 other people) were kicked out of Simprock in what's been colloquially dubbed 'The Kickening'/[vaguely gestures] and I'm not gonna lie: It hurt. It still hurts. But this isn't about that; or at least, not at this very second.

Again: this is about you, Snowy, and your actions alone. Because even after all that, I was still willing to do everything I could to prevent bringing this out into the open; after all, you said it yourself: I wanted to maintain a 'guise of neutrality'. I didn’t want to get involved.

...that was, riiiiight up until the moment I checked our DM history, and saw that you had deleted every. single. message, in what I could only assume to be a blatant attempt to shut me up and destroy all evidence of your wrongdoing.

And just like that? You pushed my 'bitch' button. Sucks for you.

Because like I said: this is not my first rodeo; I knew to have the entirety of our interaction screenshotted and archived before I sent my final post. Of course, I hoped I wouldn't need those records but... well. When dealing with a near stranger who is oddly belligerent to someone I consider a friend, I knew it was best to be prepared. And– to the detriment of my free time at large for the past few days– I've since gone through and annotated said screenshots in excruciating detail, to provide context for my side of the story. Don't worry though! I censored stuff like your friend's real name out, because I agree– there are ethical considerations to apply.

Oh, and don’t even bother crying about them being faked; I have a video of me scrolling through our messages from top to bottom; two, actually! One from before you scrubbed your messages and one from after. Sadly, I can’t post them publicly at the moment because I haven’t had the time to scrub the sensitive stuff out– like your friend's real first name. Nor can I post the link to the document that you sent me (that I didn’t fucking ask for), because you were so right in that regard: It is NOT safe for the public to see in the state you sent it to me in.

Now, for those curious about what the 'Gerald Document' is actually about: For the most part, it details an interpersonal fallout between Gerald's wife's IRL friend group– people I have never even met, mind you, aside from maybe a passing interaction here or there in one case– thus, I can’t really pass judgement on the situation that led to the document's creation past… I dunno? "Everyone involved in this matter kinda sucks, but Snowy sucks infinitely more for passing people's personal and private medical information off to me without their consent."

There, you can jot that down as my official take on the matter.

So, tl;dr:

On January 30th, 2025 between the hours of 12:40 and 2:14AM CST Snowy exposed personal and private medical information on two people to me without their knowledge or consent via the document he is claiming to be his ‘receipts’ in his Twitter post dated December 12th, 2024. Additionally, he exposed even more private medical information on a third person via the ‘conversation log’ he was also offering up in EO on February 3rd, 2025.

Now, please keep in mind: I'm about to prove I never asked to see that document, I only requested and agreed to look over the chat logs he offered me over private message between him and my friend in the hopes of mediating a misunderstanding. And that request was only made under the unspoken understanding that he'd learned his lesson from the doxxing incident a few months back. Spoiler alert: He didn’t (and actually acknowledged he violated that agreement. Again!)

All in all though, Snowy sent the following to me completely unprompted on January 30th, 2025:

"Brown" and Jules’ private medical information (as well as Robyn's via unredacted chat logs)

"Brown" and Jules’ real first names

"Brown" and Kellie’s discord handles

Jac and Goot’s real names again via the SAME doxxing screenshot he posted on X on December 12th, 2024

Now, aside from the doxxing screenshot (and, unfortunately, “Brown's” real name, I later recalled), I didn't know any of that information before I read that document. Additionally, seven? (I say ‘?’ because I’m not actually done censoring the damn thing yet, so there very well could be more by the time I get through!) people’s usernames/pfp’s– who weren’t even relevant/involved in the issue being discussed– were left unredacted as well. Keeping those names in wasn't necessary in the slightest, either; most of the time they just happened to be around the conversation at hand. 

And yeah, you read that right: I’m still gonna censor it myself. Because that’s the ethical thing to do. Now, what I do with it afterwards… well, you blocked me, so… I guess it’ll be mine to do with as I wish!

Great. A 300-ish page manifesto that wasn't even relevant to the situation at present, penned in Sno4wy's own hand. Just what I always wanted. (Like seriously, man, you couldn't even list the estimated page count right?)

A few final words:

To Jules, “Brown”, (and Robyn): I'm so sorry I learned all of this information because Snowy betrayed your trust and sent me this documentation unedited. If I had realized at the time, I swear I never would have blindly made a copy to annotate when he sent it over.

But in my defense: the document was NOT locked down in any way aside from requiring Snowy to grant access, and when I checked the history it had been last edited in July. I genuinely thought he had learned his lesson after December and sent me something that had already been scrubbed, but it’s clear enough now that he didn’t learn a goddamn thing.

What he did to you was morally reprehensible of him, and I promise to do everything that I possibly can to ensure your information is censored correctly. That said: Jules, “Brown”– if either one of you would like me to send you a copy after I’m done to ensure I didn’t miss anything, I’m sure we have mutual contacts who would be happy to make that happen.

To Snowy (even though I doubt you're actually reading this): I truly hope you're happy, because you finally got what you wished for– I got involved. Congrats, I guess! But now, aside from censoring the document and figuring out what the hell to do with it afterwards… yeah. I'm pretty much done. But let me make one thing VERY clear: this is not an escalation; this is not a ‘DARVO’; this is not an attack.

This is me simply doing what I’ve been pushed to do, in order to ensure my side of the story was heard after you wronged and harassed me for months on end, ultimately resulting in you turning multiple people into victims with just a click of a button.

A side of the story you tried to silence. Deliberately.

Additionally, if you or ANY of your so-called 'friends' try to harass/contact/include me, my family members, and/or my place of work in your ridiculous drama you dragged me into, I will be taking that as a threat and deliberate retaliation against me for speaking up after being wronged.

So on that note, before I link the document to my complete annotated chat history with Snowy spanning from May 19, 2024 - February 6th, 2025, I’d like to leave my final (censored) DMs here as well just as a summary of what’s to come because... well, what can I say? When my ‘bitch’ button gets pressed, I don’t fuck around. I make people find out.

Goodbye, Snowy. For what it’s worth, I genuinely hope you get the help you so desperately need, but I also hope you have the day you ultimately deserve.

Then again, why would you start caring about what I want now? I'm not 'anyone', after all.

[crybaby-bkg]

thank you for the tag love!!! I'm sorry it took so long, all of my wips are on my puter 😭

But, somewhere, somehow, something went wrong and here you are; hitchhiking in the middle of the night on some damn near desolate road because your work enemy-fuck buddy had taken the news of your win none too lightly.

 “I can give you my banking information and then you can kill me afterwards. Just remember to feed my cat, or donate her to the shelter, or something. I don’t know.” “In what way would that benefit you? Me taking your money and your life?” “What’s the point of living anymore? It is what it is.” Well, shit. In all the years that Toji has been a hitman for hire, he’s never really felt bad about taking someone’s life.

Choso has always prided himself in being a respectable guy (you know, other than the recent panty stealing), and the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable around him in your own home. You can understand that, but you’d much rather he just blurt out that he’s extremely into you instead adapting this very costly habit of stealing your underwear. 

They were…overwhelming, to say the least. And you had to share a house with them now? You weren’t sure how you were going to survive it, especially since your first four weeks living with them will be without your mom. Her and Kenjaku were going on their honeymoon, traveling across a few countries, and Kenjaku had already hired the movers to move your things in by nightfall. 

“I could do anything to you, really.” “Yuuta, what are you talking about?”  “I’ve done this same song and dance for, what, three hundred and nineteen days now? And you still haven’t remembered?”  “That doesn’t mean—” “It does. It does mean that I can do whatever I wanted to you. You’re not gonna remember it anyway. Why not?”

His crimson eyes roll, and he huffs all loud like you’re the one bothering him. He leans back on whatever he’s resting on—his bed, you realize belatedly, with such nasty memories that you have to pinch yourself on the thigh—and crosses too big arms over his chest.

Like now—you sit in the bath located inside the intimidatingly large house, with Uzui sitting on the side of it. Your knees are to your chest as you rest your chin on them, watching as he runs a hand through the water, glancing up at you through his ivory fringe. 

Miguel fixes you with a funny look, unlocking his car door and opening it, but he doesn’t get inside yet. He just leans on the roof, eyeing you up and down once more as if he’s thinking about it, before his eyes dart over to your house. 

also no pressure tags!! @lightseoul @weird-dere-fics @katsukikitten @theloveinc and anybody else who wants to join!!

wip folder

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous and tag AS MANY PEOPLE AS YOU HAVE WIPS - people send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it!

I was tagged by @bkgexe, who changed the rules a bit to post a snippet instead of the name of the file, which I'm gonna do as well, because most of mine are Untitled Document, and when I visit them, it's a bit like a guessing game to know what's what. so here are my wips in no particular order, some of which are shamefully old:

☆The horses blow wild plumes of steam as they haul the wagons, crying in protest when the winds blow harder and the mountain passes climb higher.

☆Tonight feels like someone else's dream.

☆For the third time this month, your best friend sits across from you at your desk, using the last of your tissues to sob and snot about her latest dating disaster.

☆“He's a defense attorney,” she explained. “He's one of the best. I think he can help you.”

☆he sits across from you at your kitchen table. haze of smoke, only light is from the fluorescent under the cabinet. too harsh, you think, for the delicate nature of this conversation. “I don't think we should do this anymore.”

☆He drives, they make small talk. "Your hair looks pretty," he says with a charming, boyish smile. "You never wear it down." Nimble fingers reach over to twirl a few strands of it around his fingers, and she blushes beautifully. He thinks he'll never tire of making her feel flustered, though it's embarrassingly easy for him to do so

I'm gonna tag @filtheopathic @yinyuedijun @scary-grace @peachdues @dilucs and @kweenkatsuki-fics . if I didn't tag you and you want to play, please feel free to jump in and do your own! and if you've already been tagged by someone else, please disregard. yahoo!

[swan2swan]

HE HAS WHAT???????

[runawaymun]

the whole tiktok ban situation is super crunchy and I'm conflicted. Because on the one hand...it does feel startlingly close to a kind of censorship and I think the whole 'chinese government links' thing is pure scaremongering. But on the other hand I genuinely think that tiktok has accelerated the rate of enshittification of so, so many things. Like it has been a net harm in basically everything. Even the publishing industry is suffering now. As someone who wants to get novels published, the entire state of the publishing industry catering to tiktok and the quality of even bookbinding rapidly deteriorating in the past couple of years, I've been reconsidering and thinking about simply setting up a website/archive to self publish my work.

So...I don't know. It's not as if other social media sites (X, Facebook, etc.) haven't done harm, and it's not like huge media giants like Google haven't caused possibly irreparable damage to how things work now, but...I just distinctly remember a pre-tiktok, pre-covid world and things legitimately weren't as bad online then as they are now. Tiktok actually feels uniquely bad. The change happened so rapidly, too. At what point do we decide that a product causes enough visible harm that it needs to be removed? Because that's what tiktok is, at the end of the day. It's a product. We don't have the same clear measurement as we do with, say, lead paint on children's toys, but idk idk idk...

[icelogged]

Sacred Heart of Jesus, Ukrainian Catholic Parish of Tolstoi, Manitoba

[feykrorovaan]

Hi! I'd like to send you an ask for the OC Interview idea, but I can't find info about your ocs. Could you give me some links to learn about them? :)

Ah!

I've never really written anything down about my OC's (no one's ever really taken an interest before,so I'm new to this.😅) so there aren't any links, sorry. I should probably do that...

I can try to give you a basic outline of my OC's under the cut though.

(A few of them share the same first name, don't judge me. I like what I like.😅)

Feel free to ask about my

(Skyrim/ESO)

-🐉Dragonborn:Feyre,A Breton born into a noble house in High Rock. She was caught crossing the border into Skyrim fleeing from her family.

-🍂Vestige:Taelia,A rogueish Bosmer, born in Auridon with a heart of gold and a bit of a hero complex. She has no memories of her life before she became the Vestige even after retrieving her soul. LI:Darien Gautier

-📚Vestige:Talianna,A talented,although bookish,Altmer, Arcanist and mage (Think Evie from The Mummy) If she's not adventuring,you can almost definitely find her in a library with her nose in a book.

(Dragon Age)

-⚔️Warden:Taelia Cousland. A prim and proper noble born into the Teyrny of Highever. After her family was destroyed by Arl Howe,she decided to become a Grey Warden,later becoming the Queen of Fereldan.LI:Alistair Theirin

-🍾Hawke:Sabine Hawke. Funny and kind. Tries to do what's right,even when it might get her into a situation she can't get out of without a fight. LI:Fenris

-💚Inquisitor:Taelia Trevelyan.The youngest child of Bann Trevelyan,born in Ostwick of the Free Marches,and a talented mage.Unexpectantly thrust into the role of leading the Inquisition.LI:Cullen Rutherford

(BG3)

-🎼Tav: Taelia,a noble that left home to follow her passions as a Bard,born and raised in Baldur's Gate. She had just returned home from traveling when the events of BG3 take place.LI:Astarion Acunín

-✨Tav:Alexandra,a powerful,optimistic sorceress and a wielder of Wild Magic. Although she tries her best,things don't always go according to plan and her magic is unpredictable,either helping or hindering her adventures.. LI:Gale Dekarios

Thank you for taking an interest! ❤️

[xxlethal-lunaxx]

If anyone relates to this even just a little bit, then I'm so sorry.

[ariapmdeol]

actually im just gonna write this out here too i've gotten more coe english resources so if anyone needs them, please dm me and i'll send them to you <3

[imagine-nerd]

The fucking disconnect is so real.