#because it meant that he could finally discover himself without needing to be useful for anyone

[artemx746]

something something if Ethan lived he and Alabaster would have the same arc in different directions

[kiwriteswords]

begs nicely for bombshell reader

In the Margin

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Bombshell!Female Reader||Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: canon-typical themes, flirting, fluff, finance talk, banter, Hotch is a softie for Penelope.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner’s weekly budget meetings with you, the sharp-tongued BAU financial analyst, become an unexpected mix of humor, wit, and simmering tension as professional boundaries blur. Between team antics, Penelope’s creative expenses, and your playful challenges, Hotch finds himself navigating far more than just numbers.

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t sure if he hated the newly implemented weekly budget meetings because they disrupted his already packed schedule or because of you, the BAU’s Operations Department Budget Analyst.

No--that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t that he hated you. It was that he hated how much he didn’t hate you. You were sharp-tongued, confident, and armed with a wit so quick it could cut him to ribbons before he even knew he was bleeding. It didn’t help that you looked like you belonged on a movie set rather than in a conference room dissecting every penny spent by his team.

He adjusted his tie as he entered the room. You were already seated at the head of the table, a tablet in front of you and a pen in hand, tapping it rhythmically against the desk as you scanned a detailed report. He knew that was meant for him. It was always meant for him.

“Good morning, Agent Hotchner,” you greeted without looking up. “Let’s talk about how your team managed to burn through three months of budget in--oh, a month and a half.” Your eyes finally met his, and the smile you gave him could only be described as predatory.

“Good morning, Miss. Y/L/N.” He placed his briefcase on the table and sat across from you. “I see we’re getting right into it today.”

“Well, Aaron”—and wasn’t that a bold move? Using his first name like that—“I’d love to make small talk, but someone”—you leaned forward conspiratorially, voice dropping as if this was the world’s biggest secret—“decided we needed to order customized iPad cases last month. For everyone. Including” You looked back down to the itemized invoice,"‘Penelope Garcia’s-second-backup-iPad.’”

Hotch rubbed a hand over his face. “That would be Garcia,” he said dryly.

You laughed, and the sound was like a reward he didn’t know he was aiming for. “Oh, Aaron. It’s always Penelope, isn’t it?”

The meetings became a staple of his week, though not by choice. What had started as a quarterly formality became a monthly necessity when you joined the department and discovered Penelope’s propensity for colorful, extravagant expenditures. But the kicker came two months ago, when Penelope had gone rogue with the budget to fund her “absolutely vital” initiative to replace paper case files with digital ones—complete with the max amount of storage, of course. You’d retaliated by instituting weekly budget reviews.

“She knows,” Hotch told Penelope one afternoon in her lair. “She knows it was you.”

Penelope gasped dramatically. “How does she know? Wait—does she have surveillance on me? Did she bug my office? Tell. Me. She didn’t bug my office.”

“She didn’t bug your office, Garcia,” Hotch said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She knows because you send her invoices.”

Penelope frowned. “But those were justified expenses!”

“She’s not convinced.” Hotch sighed. “Neither is the finance department.”

“Well, maybe if she’d loosen up a bit—”

“She’s very loose, Garcia,” Hotch muttered before realizing how that sounded. Penelope’s grin was instant, and Hotch scowled. “Don’t.”

“I’m just saying,” she teased, “you’ve been spending a lot of time with Miss. Y/N Y/L/N. Maybe you like these meetings more than you’re letting on.”

He left her office before she could get another word in.

The meetings evolved into more than budget disputes. You had a way of challenging Hotch that nobody else did. You questioned his decisions—not about cases, but about expenses. You turned a dry meeting into something that felt like a battle of wits, and despite himself, Hotch found he didn’t mind the sparring.

“So, tell me,” you said during one particularly contentious meeting, “why does Penelope need a beanbag chair? Let me guess—‘it fosters creative thinking.’”

Hotch cleared his throat; his years of being quick on his feet as a lawyer somehow always did him good when it came to defending Penelope’s spending. “She has unique requirements for her workspace.”

“Unique, huh?” You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs, and Hotch caught himself looking before he forced his gaze back up. “And the collection of...neon gel pens? Also, a unique requirement?”

“She…has a system.”

You laughed again, and Hotch felt the corners of his mouth twitch. He’d smiled more in these meetings than in most social situations, not that he’d admit it.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you said casually, pointing your pen at him, and Hotch stiffened. You were already standing, gathering your papers. “Meeting adjourned. See you next week, Aaron.”

It wasn’t until two months into weekly meetings that things finally shifted.

You caught him in the break room late one evening, well after everyone else had gone home. “Aaron,” you greeted, leaning against the counter with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Did you know your coffee expenses are also over budget?”

Hotch turned, mug in hand. “Should I expect an itemized report on my caffeine consumption?”

You smirked. “Already on your desk.”

The air between you crackled, and for the first time, Hotch saw something beyond the wit and the barbs. He set his mug down and stepped closer, his voice low. “You enjoy giving me a hard time.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “And you enjoy taking it.”

“Do I?” he challenged.

“Don’t you?” you shot back, and the look in your eyes was enough to make him question every professional boundary he’d ever adhered to.

He took another step closer, close enough that he could see the faint trace of amusement in your expression. “This feels like it’s about more than the budget.”

“It definitely is,” you said, your voice softer now. “Maybe I think you could use a little…loosening up.”

Hotch let himself smile just a little. “And you think you’re the person to help me with that?”

You grinned, pushing off the counter and brushing past him, close enough that he caught the faintest hint of your perfume. “I know I am.”

The budget meetings continued, but now, the tension between you and Hotch wasn’t just professional. It simmered, unspoken but palpable, until it was only a matter of time before one of you crossed the line.

And Hotch couldn’t wait to see who would make the first move.

Hotch had a long day ahead of him. Between case briefs, team check-ins, and the weekly budget meeting you’d so gleefully instituted, he felt like the universe was conspiring against him. It didn’t help that Penelope Garcia had texted him earlier with an ominous, “Sir! Big news! You’ll thank me later.”

When he stepped into the bullpen, the team was gathered around Penelope, who stood in the center like a magician about to unveil her latest trick.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced, waving her hands dramatically, “I give you the latest and greatest tech upgrade to grace the halls of the BAU!”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose as the team collectively oohed and aahed over the sleek new monitors now adorning every desk.

“Garcia,” he said, his tone low and measured, “please tell me this was approved through the appropriate channels.”

Penelope turned to him with a smile so wide it could only mean trouble. “Of course it was, sir!” Then, after a beat, she added, “I mean, I may have pulled a few strings. But can you really put a price on efficiency and team morale?”

Rossi, seated casually nearby, chimed in. “I’ll admit, it’s a nice touch. Maybe next month, you can swing for some leather chairs in the conference room. The kind that recline.”

Hotch shot him a withering look. “Don’t encourage her.”

Penelope pouted. “Come on, Hotch! You know these upgrades are totally needed. Plus, they match my aesthetic.” She gestured to her own office.

He sighed. “You know who’s going to have to explain this, don’t you?”

Her grin didn’t waver. “That’s why you’re the boss.”

Later, Hotch found himself standing outside your office, mentally preparing for the inevitable. When he knocked, you barely looked up from your screen. “Ah, Aaron,” you said, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. “What brings you to my humble lair? Let me guess—Penelope strikes again?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “You heard?”

“I always hear.” You gestured to the chair across from your desk. “Sit, and tell me why I shouldn’t slash your team's budget to nothing.”

Hotch sat, rubbing his temples. “She upgraded the monitors.”

Your laughter filled the room, light and musical. “Monitors? Really? Did she bedazzle them too?”

“She might have,” he muttered. “Look, I know it’s excessive, but the team…they rely on her. She keeps things running smoothly.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Running smoothly or running through money?”

Hotch gave you a flat look, which only made you grin wider.

“Alright, Aaron,” you said, leaning forward. “Here’s the deal. We can refinance a few line items. Maybe cut back on travel expenses for conferences nobody attends. But I need you to do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” he asked warily.

You tapped your pen against your desk, pretending to consider. “How about you keep coming to these meetings on time? And,” you added with a smirk, “try not to look so grumpy when you do.”

Hotch’s lips twitched, threatening a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The next meeting was no less contentious, but there was a new edge to the banter.

“You really went to bat for Penelope this week,” you said, flipping through your notes. “Is she holding something over you? A dark secret, perhaps? Did she catch you sneaking an extra slice of cake at Rossi’s last party?”

Hotch gave you a pointed look. “She’s an integral part of the team.”

“And I’m sure the sparkly monitor really enhances her skillset,” you quipped. “What’s next? A gold-plated stapler?”

“Don’t give her ideas.”

You laughed, and he found himself staring at the way your eyes lit up when you did. It was distracting. You were distracting.

“So,” you continued, turning serious, “how do you propose we make this work? I’ve crunched the numbers, and unless you want to start holding bake sales, something’s gotta give.”

Hotch straightened in his chair. “Rossi suggested cutting back on the print subscriptions.”

“Oh, no,” you said, feigning horror. “What will he do without his monthly shipment of Fine Living Magazine?”

Hotch sighed. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But only because you make it so easy.”

As the weeks went on, the tension between you and Hotch became undeniable. The banter turned sharper, the lingering glances longer, the air in those meetings thicker with something unspoken.

It all came to a head late one evening, long after everyone else had gone home. Hotch was leaving his office when he saw your light still on. Against his better judgment, he knocked and stepped inside.

“Still working?” he asked.

You glanced up, surprised. “Someone’s gotta keep the lights on.”

He closed the door behind him. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Is that an offer to help?” you asked, leaning back in your chair. “Because I could use a second set of eyes on these reports.”

Hotch stepped closer, the tension crackling between you like static electricity. "You’re good at what you do. The team is lucky to have you.”

For once, your usual smirk faltered. “Thanks, Aaron.”

The silence stretched, heavy with possibility. Then you smiled again, playful and challenging. “Careful, Hotchner. If you keep talking like that, I might start thinking you actually like me.”

He let out a rare laugh, low and genuine. “Maybe I do.”

Your eyes widened slightly before you recovered, your grin turning sly. “Well, that’s a start.”

The next budget meeting arrived with its usual dose of tension—and not just the financial kind. Hotch entered the conference room early, a strategic move to reclaim some semblance of control. You were already there, of course, seated at the head of the table, the tablet glowing in front of you.

“Early today,” you said, glancing at your watch with mock surprise. “Did someone finally read my strongly worded emails about punctuality?”

"I'm always on time, and I always read your emails,” he replied dryly, taking his usual seat across from you.

“Sure you do,” you said, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “That’s why you never respond.”

“I’m busy running a team of federal agents.”

“And yet somehow Penelope has time to order monogrammed pen holders.”

Hotch sighed, his hand already moving to rub at the bridge of his nose. “You’re never going to let that one go, are you?”

“Not a chance, Aaron.”

The meeting was halfway through when Penelope barged in, her presence as colorful as ever.

“Sir!” she chirped, holding a bright pink folder that screamed unnecessary expense. “Quick update—I managed to upgrade the entire team’s software licenses. State of the art, cutting-edge, only the best for my BAU fam.”

Hotch stared at her, his mouth a thin line. “Garcia, we discussed this.”

“I know!” she said, beaming. “That’s why I made sure to get a bulk discount. I saved us 12%.”

You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip to stifle a laugh. “Twelve percent? Wow, Aaron, she’s practically a financial wizard.”

Hotch glared at you. “Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m just saying,” you continued, “with savings like that, we’ll be out of the red in no time. What’s next, Penelope? A popcorn machine for movie nights in the bullpen?”

“Oh my God,” Penelope gasped, her eyes lighting up. “That’s genius. The camaraderie…I—”

“No,” Hotch said firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Penelope pouted, but she left without further incident. As soon as the door closed, you turned to Hotch, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“She’s incredible,” you said, shaking your head. “Completely unhinged--but incredible.”

“She’s a lot of things,” Hotch muttered. “Mostly expensive.”

“And you,” you added, grinning, “are such a softie for her.”

Hotch scoffed, leaning back in his chair, but the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed him. “Softie? I’m her supervisor, not her enabler.”

You laughed, a low, melodic sound that Hotch had come to recognize as the precursor to trouble. “Please. You bend over backward for her, and we both know it.”

“She’s part of my team,” he replied evenly. “It’s my job to advocate for them.”

“Advocating for a new monitor system with glitter decals?” you teased, leaning forward slightly, your grin widening. “Aaron, that’s not advocacy—that’s indulgence. She's like your team's equivalent to 'happy wife, happy life.'"

Hotch crossed his arms, his stoicism cracking just enough to let his dry humor slip through. “I’d call it picking my battles.”

“Oh, really?” you shot back. “And what battle are you avoiding by letting Penelope order custom beanbag chairs?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, but you caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Do you know what happens if I say no to her?”

“I can only imagine,” you said, leaning your chin on your hand. “Please, enlighten me.”

“She gets creative,” Hotch said gravely. “Very creative. The last time I vetoed one of her purchases, she launched a campaign with color-coded charts and heartfelt video testimonials from the team about how much they needed a slushie machine in the bullpen.”

Your laughter filled the room again, and Hotch let the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. “A slushie machine? You’ve got to give her credit—that’s bold....and random.”

“She called it a ‘hydration initiative,’” he deadpanned.

You leaned back, shaking your head in disbelief. “You are such a softie.”

“I’m pragmatic,” he corrected, his tone firm but not unkind. “It’s easier to approve the monitors than to explain to Strauss why there’s a PowerPoint presentation titled ‘Ice-Cold Justice.’”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter, and Hotch found himself momentarily distracted by the way your eyes sparkled with amusement. It wasn’t often he let himself relax enough to notice those things, but with you, it was becoming harder to keep the line between professional and personal intact.

“And yet,” you finally said, regaining your composure, “you’re here, pleading her case to me instead of just putting your foot down.”

“She has her merits,” he admitted, his voice softening just enough to remind you why people followed him so loyally. “The work she does is critical. Even when it’s…excessive.”

“See? Softie,” you said triumphantly, pointing your pen at him. “You can’t fool me, Hotchner. You’re all gruff on the outside, but deep down, you’re just one big teddy bear.”

“I’m not sure that’s how the rest of the Bureau would describe me,” he replied dryly.

“Well,” you said, leaning forward with a sly smile, “the rest of the Bureau doesn’t get to see you begging for beanbags.”

He gave you a long, measured look, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to shift. “I don’t beg.”

“No?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “What would you call this, then?”

“I’d call it negotiation,” he replied, his voice low but steady. “And if you’re not careful, I might actually win.”

Your grin widened. “Now that I’d like to see.”

Hotch allowed himself a small smirk, the kind that was so rare it felt like a reward in itself. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Oh, Aaron,” you said, leaning back in your chair, your tone playful and just a little daring. “I live to tempt you.”

For a brief moment, the tension crackled, sharper than the wit you both wielded like weapons. Then you straightened, tapping your pen against the table as if to signal the end of the moment.

“Alright, Mr. Softie,” you said lightly, “I’ll see what I can do about those monitors. But don’t think this means you’re getting that cappuccino machine Rossi asked for.”

Hotch stood, smoothing his tie as if to regain his composure. “One victory at a time.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him, your voice laced with amusement. “Don’t forget to tell Penelope her beanbags are still on the chopping block.”

He paused at the door, glancing back at you with a look that was almost fond. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

By the time Hotch left the meeting, he felt thoroughly defeated. You had grilled him on every expenditure, from coffee pods to the mysterious disappearance of two office chairs. You’d teased him mercilessly, of course, but you’d also offered solutions, which only made you more infuriatingly attractive.

Later that afternoon, Rossi cornered him in his office.

“Aaron,” Rossi began, settling into the chair across from his desk. “I have a proposition.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” Rossi said smoothly. “I’ve been re-thinking about how to improve morale around here. You know what we need? A cappuccino machine. The kind they have in those fancy Italian cafes.”

Hotch blinked. “A cappuccino machine. We talked about this. We have coffee in the break room.”

Rossi looked hurt by Hotch's definition of coffee. “That isn’t coffee. This is an investment in productivity. Caffeine keeps the team sharp.”

“You’re serious.”

“Completely.”

Hotch exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “You do realize I have to explain this to Y/L/N?”

Rossi grinned. “You’re good with words. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

That evening, Hotch found himself in your office again, this time with what he knew was a losing argument.

“A cappuccino machine?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Is that really where we’re at again?”

“Rossi insists it’s for team morale.”

You laughed, leaning forward on your desk. “Aaron, if I approve this, what’s next? A hot tub in the break room? A second private jet for local cases?”

He gave you a long-suffering look. “I wouldn’t put it past Rossi to suggest either of those.”

Your laughter bubbled out again, and a small smile that tugged at Hotch’s lips. “You’re impossible,” he muttered.

“You mean brilliant,” you corrected, your tone playful. “Come on, admit it—you love these little matches.”

Hotch hesitated, just long enough for the moment to stretch between you. “I do.”

Your smirk softened into something more genuine. “Well, don’t get too comfortable, Hotchner. You might actually win one of these someday.”

“And if I do?”

Your grin turned sly again. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

The tension between you and Hotch simmered like an unsaid promise, lingering in the spaces between your words and the way your eyes lingered just a beat too long. It wasn’t until another late night when the office was quiet and the shadows stretched long, that Hotch found himself once again at your door.

“You know,” you said as he stepped inside, “if you keep showing up here after hours, people are going to start talking.”

“Let them,” he said, surprising himself with the bluntness of his response.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “That sounded suspiciously like flirting.”

“Did it?”

You smiled, slow and dangerous. “It did. And for the record, Aaron, I don’t mind.”

For once, Aaron Hotchner didn’t have a retort. Instead, he let the silence speak, the weight of it filled with possibilities he hadn’t dared entertain before.

And when you smiled at him again, he thought that maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something worth breaking the rules for.

Hotch stood frozen in the doorway for a moment longer than necessary, your words echoing in his mind. “For the record, Aaron, I don’t mind.”

He cleared his throat, stepping fully into your office and closing the door behind him. It wasn’t often that Aaron Hotchner found himself at a loss for words, but there was something about you—your sharp tongue, your disarming wit, the way you looked at him like you knew exactly what you were doing—that threw him off balance.

You leaned back in your chair, studying him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “What brings you here this time? More cappuccino machine negotiations? Or did Rossi decide the bullpen needs a wine fridge?”

“Neither,” he said, his voice steady but quieter than usual. “I wanted to talk.”

“Oh, talk,” you said, your lips curving into a playful smile. “That sounds serious.”

“It is,” he admitted, surprising himself again with his own candor.

You arched an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “Alright, Aaron. You’ve got my attention. What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he wasn’t sure how far he was willing to let this go. The boundary between professional and personal was already blurred; one more step and it might vanish entirely. And yet, as you sat there watching him with that sly, confident smile, he found he didn’t care as much as he should have.

“You,” he said finally, the single word weighted with more meaning than he intended.

Your smile faltered for just a second, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Then it was back, brighter and sharper than ever. “Well, that’s unexpected. Flattered, of course, but unexpected.”

He allowed himself a small smile, stepping closer to your desk. “I doubt anything surprises you.”

“Not often,” you admitted, leaning forward slightly. “But I’ll admit, I didn’t peg you as the type to make the first move.”

“Who says this is a move?”

You laughed, the sound warm and low. “Oh, Aaron. If this isn’t a move, then I’m very curious to see what one looks like.”

He didn’t answer right away, letting the silence hang between you like a challenge. Finally, he leaned forward, placing his hands on your desk, and met your gaze head-on.

“What if I am making a move?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with something that made your breath catch.

For the first time since he’d met you, you seemed genuinely caught off guard. Your confident smirk wavered, replaced by a flicker of something more tentative. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it struck him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“Well,” you said after a beat, your voice quieter than before. “In that case, I’d say it’s about time.”

His heart thudded once, hard and unexpected, and for a moment, he forgot where he was. Forgot who he was. All he could think about was how close you were, how easy it would be to reach across the desk and close the distance.

But then you leaned back, your smile returning with a hint of mischief. “Of course, if this isn’t a move, I’d hate to embarrass myself.”

“Consider yourself safe,” he said, straightening but not stepping back. “For now.”

Your laughter filled the room again, light and teasing. “Careful, Aaron. I’m thinking you actually enjoy these little games.”

“I do,” he said, surprising himself once more with his honesty.

You tilted your head, studying him with a newfound intensity. “Well, in that case, I’ll make sure to keep things interesting.”

As he left your office that night, the air between you charged with unspoken tension, Aaron Hotchner realized something he hadn’t allowed himself to consider before: he wasn’t just drawn to you because of your sharp wit or your undeniable charm. He was drawn to you because you made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Alive.

The roundtable room was unusually quiet when Hotch gathered the team for an impromptu meeting. That should have been his first clue. They were always at their most dangerous when they were waiting for the hammer to drop.

“All right,” he began, standing at the head of the conference table. “We need to talk about the budget.”

Rossi leaned back in his chair, a smirk already forming. “This is about the cappuccino machine, isn’t it?”

“It’s not about the cappuccino machine,” Hotch said firmly. “Though that’s still off the table.”

“Good thing I didn’t submit the requisition for the margarita blender,” Morgan muttered, earning a stifled laugh from JJ.

Hotch gave him a pointed look before continuing. “We’ve been asked to cut back on end-of-year expenses. That means scaling back on travel accommodations for the next few cases.”

“Scaling back how?” Prentiss asked, her tone cautious.

“Fewer hotels,” Hotch said. “We’ll have to bunk up where possible.”

There was a collective groan around the table.

“Bunk up?” Garcia appeared in the doorway, her dramatic gasp signaling she’d overheard. “Do you mean to tell me we, the esteemed agents of the BAU, are being reduced to sharing rooms? What is this, a slumber party?”

“Garcia, you rarely travel with us. Would it kill you to share a room with JJ or Emily for a few nights, if and when you do?” Hotch asked, his tone dry.

“It’s not about me, sir,” Garcia replied, clutching her chest like he’d wounded her. “It’s about the principle. We’re public servants, heroes even. Heroes deserve better than twin beds and bad room service.”

“Twin beds?” Reid asked, looking genuinely horrified.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Come on, Hotch. We all know you’ve got an in with Y/N in finance. Can’t she pull some strings before Garcia does?”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. “Y/N is doing her job, just like the rest of us.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it now?” Rossi said with a grin, earning a ripple of laughter from the team.

“Funny,” Hotch deadpanned. “But unless any of you have a better solution, this is how it’s going to be.”

“Sure, sure,” Morgan said, his grin widening. “But if anyone could sweet-talk Y/N, it’s you, Hotch. You’ve got that whole brooding, stoic charm thing going for you. She loves that.”

“I’m not sweet-talking anyone,” Hotch said, his tone clipped.

“Really?” Prentiss chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “Because rumor has it you’ve been spending a lot of time in her office lately.”

“That’s called managing the budget,” Hotch replied evenly, though his ears felt uncomfortably warm. “The budget we keep going over. Which is what I’m trying to do right now.”

“Right,” JJ said, her voice full of mock seriousness. “Managing the budget.”

The laughter around the table grew louder, and even Garcia joined in with an exaggerated wink.

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This conversation is over.”

“But the bunking isn’t,” Rossi said, still grinning. “Good to know.”

Later, Hotch sat across from you, his tie slightly loosened after the long day. The hum of your sarcasm was already in the air, a comfort he’d never admit aloud.

“Back so soon?” you asked, glancing up from your tablet. “What’s the crisis this time? Let me guess—the team didn’t take kindly to the budgeting suggestion?”

“They had…questions,” Hotch replied, his tone dry. “And commentary.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, smirking as you leaned back in your chair. “Let me guess: Rossi wants to requisition a wine fridge instead of a cappuccino machine? Garcia--who if I remember correctly doesn’t even travel with the team--staged a protest? Or did Morgan suggest you charm me into pulling some strings?”

Hotch blinked, caught momentarily off guard. “Actually, yes. That’s almost word for word what he said.”

You laughed, the sound warm and far too satisfying. “I knew it. The whole team thinks I’m your budgetary fairy godmother, don’t they?”

“They’re not subtle about it,” he admitted, leaning forward slightly. “And if I’m honest, they’re starting to have…suspicions.”

Your eyebrows lifted, your smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “Oh, suspicions, huh? About what exactly?”

“That I might have an ‘in’ with you,” he said, his tone measured but carrying a hint of something wry. “And that I use it to get my way.”

You tilted your head, resting your chin on your hand. “Well, you do have an in with me, Aaron.”

“I do?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Mm-hmm,” you said, your grin widening. “You come in here all brooding and stoic, with that deep voice and those puppy-dog eyes, and I’m supposed to say no to you? Please.”

He let out a rare chuckle, low and brief. “So you’re saying you find me…persuasive?”

“I’m saying I find you irritating,” you replied, though the teasing lilt in your voice betrayed you. “But occasionally charming.”

“Occasionally?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

“Don’t push your luck,” you said, though your smile hadn’t wavered. “Now, what exactly are you hoping I’ll do?”

Hotch straightened, slipping back into his professional demeanor. “The travel budget is tight. We need to cut back on some of the accommodations for the next few cases. If there’s any room to reallocate funds or find efficiencies, I’d like your input.”

You studied him for a moment, your pen tapping against the desk. “You know,” you said finally, “you could’ve just sent an email. But you didn’t, which means you wanted to have this conversation in person.”

“Maybe I thought it would be more effective,” he said, his voice steady.

“And maybe,” you said, leaning forward with a sly smile, “you just like spending time with me.”

Hotch’s gaze held yours, the tension between you thick enough to cut. “Maybe the team isn’t wrong to have their suspicions.”

That caught you off guard, and for the briefest moment, your confident grin faltered. Then you recovered, your smile turning soft around the edges. “Well, if you’re going to keep coming to me, Aaron, I guess I’ll have to live up to their expectations.”

“So you’ll help?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady.

You rolled your eyes, though your grin didn’t fade. “Of course, I’ll help. But only because I’d hate for Garcia to have to share a room on the rare chance she joined you on a trip. Can you imagine the drama?”

Hotch stood, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you said, your tone playful. “I might make you owe me one.”

He paused at the door, glancing back at you. “I think I already do.”

Your laughter followed him out, and Hotch didn’t mind giving up a little control.

The next few weeks blurred into a whirlwind of cases, budget meetings, and what Hotch could only describe as a game of mutual teasing with you that he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to win. The team’s jabs about his “in” with you only got more relentless, but the truth was, they weren’t wrong. He found himself seeking out your company more often than he’d care to admit, and not just because of budgetary crises.

One evening, well after most of the team had gone home, Hotch walked into your office to find you perched on the edge of your desk, heels kicked off, and a pen tucked behind your ear as you typed furiously on your tablet.

“You work too much,” he said by way of greeting, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You glanced up, smirking. “Says the man who just came from his own office. What brings you here, Aaron? More budget drama? Or are you just here for the company?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Would it be so bad if it were both?”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, but the smile that followed was slow and dangerous. “Well, well. Are you finally admitting that you like me?”

He hesitated for half a second before replying, his voice low but steady. “I think you already know I do.”

That made you pause. Your usual sharp wit seemed momentarily replaced by something softer, something vulnerable, before you quickly masked it with your trademark confidence. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you flirt before, Hotchner. You’re better at it than I expected.”

“I don’t flirt,” he said, stepping closer. “At least, not intentionally.”

“Oh,” you said, your voice dropping slightly. “So this is just you being your naturally charming self?”

“Something like that,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smirk.

You laughed, shaking your head as you set your tablet aside. “You know, if you keep talking like that, I might start to think you’re actually serious.”

“What if I am?” he asked, taking another step closer.

Your grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. “Aaron…”

He stopped just in front of you, close enough that he could see the faintest flush on your cheeks. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said quietly. “But I don’t regret it.”

You tilted your head, studying him as if trying to determine whether he was being sincere. Then, slowly, your lips curved into a soft, almost shy smile that he hadn’t seen before. “Well, that’s good,” you said, your voice lighter now. “Because I’d hate to think I’ve been wasting my time trying to get under your skin.”

“You’ve been very effective,” he admitted, his voice laced with dry humor.

You laughed again, the tension between you easing slightly. “Good to know.”

For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, the air between you charged with possibilities. Then you leaned forward just enough that your shoulder brushed his, your voice dropping to a near whisper. “So what now, Aaron? You going to keep playing it safe, or are you finally going to make a move and follow through?”

Hotch held your gaze, his pulse quickening in a way that was entirely unfamiliar and yet oddly welcome. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you replied, your grin returning.

Before he could overthink it, he leaned down, his hand resting lightly on the edge of your desk as his lips brushed against yours. The kiss was brief but electric, leaving both of you slightly breathless when he pulled back.

“Well,” you said after a moment, your voice a little unsteady but filled with warmth. “That’s one way to balance the budget.”

Hotch chuckled softly, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “I hope that’s not the only thing you take away from this.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, your grin turning wicked again. “I’ll send you the itemized breakdown tomorrow.”

He laughed, a rare, genuine sound, and as the two of you stood there in the quiet of your office, Hotch couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly what he’d been missing.

The next morning, Hotch walked into the bullpen, his usual stoic demeanor firmly in place—at least on the outside. Inside, he felt lighter than he had in years. But any illusion of subtlety was shattered the moment he saw Morgan smirking at him from across the room.

“Morning, Hotch,” Morgan said, his tone far too casual. “You look…different today. Get a good night’s sleep?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, choosing not to dignify the comment with a response. He made his way toward his office, but before he could escape, Garcia intercepted him, practically bouncing on her heels.

“Oh, boss man, you’ve got that look,” she teased, waggling her eyebrows. “The look of a man who’s either won the lottery or—” Her eyes widened in dramatic realization. “—had a life-altering, swoon-worthy moment with a certain someone in finance.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Garcia—”

“Don’t deny it!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I have sources.”

Before he could reply, the elevator dinged, and you stepped out, striding confidently into the bullpen with your signature blend of poise and sass. You caught Hotch’s eye and shot him a subtle, knowing smile that sent a ripple of warmth through him.

Garcia caught the exchange and gasped audibly. “Oh my God! It’s true!”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, grinning. “I knew it. Didn’t I say he had an in with her?”

“You said it,” Prentiss confirmed, her tone amused. “Repeatedly. But he's really getting it in with her.”

JJ just shook her head, smiling. “Well, at least we know why the budget meetings keep getting longer.”

Hotch leveled a calm, measured glare at his team. “I don’t recall calling a team meeting on my personal life.”

“Ah, but your personal life is so much more interesting than budget cuts,” Rossi said with a wink. “You should let us enjoy it.”

“I’m glad you’re all entertained,” Hotch said dryly, turning toward his office. But as he walked away, he caught your voice behind him.

“Don’t be too hard on them, Aaron,” you called amusement lacing your tone.

The laughter that followed was warm and genuine, and for once, Hotch didn’t mind being the subject of it. As he stepped into his office and closed the door, he glanced back at you through the glass, catching your playful smile once more.

Yes, this was definitely worth breaking the rules for.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[judebelle]

Comforting gavi bc of his injury 🥹

it'll be okay - p.g. x reader

a/n : couldn't find a gif of him in the spain vs georgia match but gavi get well soon!

cw : fluff, angst, pablo in pain, injury, poor medical references, me using my limited knowledge of acl injuries lmao, reader not knowing how to comfort him, swearing, barely edited

wc : 1.6k

pairing : pablo gavi x fem!reader

---

the one game.

the one game you couldn't make it to was the one game that you needed to be at the most.

your boyfriend, pablo gavi, was playing for spain in a euro qualifier. you had an exam that day, so you couldn't be there to support him.

"no te preocupes, baby. good luck on your exam." (don't worry, baby. good luck on your exam.)

that was the last text your boyfriend sent you after you apologized again for not being there for him, even though you were already right outside your exam room.

with his reassurance, you stepped into the room and tried your best on the exam.

you weren't sure as to why pablo had to start for this match. spain had already qualified and he was already overworked as it was, but you didn't question his coach and managers and just brushed it under the rug.

unbeknownst to you, pablo had suffered an injury during the match. as you completed your exam, unaware of the events unfolding on the field, pablo battled through the game with determination. eventually, the fatigue took its toll, and he found himself nursing an injury that would later reveal itself as a full tear of his acl as well as an associated injury to his lateral meniscus.

your absence from the game meant that the news of his injury remained hidden from you, leaving you unsuspecting of the challenges he faced without your support.

you exited the exam hall, confident that your relentless studying had paid off. you opened your phone, intending to message pablo about your exam. you completely forgot about his match until you saw a ridiculous amount of notifications on your lock screen. as you scrolled, your heart sank upon discovering the news. shock and concern shook you as you read the details of your boyfriend's injury.

many reports outlined the severity of the situation, describing how pablo had most likely torn his acl during the match. a wave of guilt and empathy washed over you as you absorbed the gravity of the news. instantly, you dialed pablo's number, desperate to speak with him.

your heart sank at the monotone beeps that met your ear. stupid idea, he wasn't going to pick up the phone when his whole fucking knee was messed up. you realized that you were too far from the stadium to rush over there, so you sent him a few texts notifying him of your knowledge of the situation and made your way to your shared home.

---

you knew that there was not much you could do in terms of helping with the injury. all you knew was that pablo will be gutted when he gets back. you weren't an expert, but you saw the clip of the injury and the tears that spilled from his eyes. this was a serious injury and he would have to sacrifice a good chunk of the season recovering.

that's when a guilty feeling settled in your chest. you would've no doubt, skipped your exam to be there had you miraculously known what was in store for him. maybe if you were in the stands, you would've been able to see if he was okay and talk to him.

as you entered the house, you hurriedly kicked off your shoes and washed your hands, getting the house as comfortable for him as possible. you fixed up the bed, put a few ice packs in the freezer, and started making his comfort foods.

being an athlete means that pablo is always on a pretty strict diet, but you snuck in a few treats in his bed side drawer because you knew he'd need them.

after what seemed like an eternity of waiting and anxious preparing, you finally heard buzzing from your phone.

"hello? pablo?"

you heard a pained grunt and some shuffling before he strained out,

"y/n.."

"oh, thank god you're okay! what's happening? any updates yet? when are you coming home?"

pablo interrupted your rambling with a soft laugh, almost forced, before speaking. "despacio, mi amor," (slowly, my love.)

you pause your tangent, freezing in place and waiting for him to say something. you're about to start speaking again when you hear the front door start to open pablo's voice on the phone.

"i'm home."

---

two men walked beside him in case he needed assistance walking through the front door, but he was more than capable on his crutches. you dropped the phone from your hand as you saw pablo walking in from your place in the kitchen. you rushed over and he sent you a tight lipped smile. he told the two men that they're good to leave, and they did.

you finally walked closer to him, wanting to throw yourself onto him but stopping once you remembered his condition. you huffed in annoyance before ultimately pushing your lips against his fiercely, but not too hard.

he kissed back, but couldn't wrap his arms around you as he needed to hold his crutches to stand. you broke away and looked down at his knee. he was wearing a grey tracksuit, but you could see something under his pants on his left knee, most likely a brace of some sort.

"pablo, you have no idea how confused i am.. what happened? tell me everything!" you led him to the kitchen while walking beside him incase he needed help. he begins to fill you in on how he was challenged during the match and he didn't quite turn right, and his knee was already hurting from the beginning of the match, but they told him to play on.

"they ran some tests. i don't know what the results are yet, but they're quite sure that i completely tore my acl and injured my meniscus. if they're right.. i could be out for around nine months. my season is done.."

you had no idea what exact muscles and tissues and bones pablo was naming, but yo knew that acl injuries were no joke, and needed to be taken seriously. also knowing pablo, he plays passionately and has had a great season so far. the fact that it's being cut short is not fair to him.

nothing is.

"ai.." you hissed sympathetically "well, i don't know much about acl's, but i do know that you need to rest properly. and you being the stubborn man that you are, i will be here to make sure you do exactly that, okay?"

you didn't give him time to respond before placing some plates and bowls on a tray and taking them upstairs, telling pablo to stay put. you hurried back downstairs before helping up the stairs, letting him use the crutches as well.

after a few minutes, he was upstairs and into bed. you sat beside him on the bed, his head turning when he felt it dip.

"i smell food.." he smiles sheepishly as you giggled. he must've been hungry after the match. you lifted the tray from the table beside you and placed it beside him. you placed a pillow under his head, making sure he was sitting slightly upright.

you sat crisscrossed beside him and took a spoonful of a soup you made him, blowing lightly as you smiled at him. he was waiting patiently while looking up at you. you brought the spoon to his lips and tilted so he could sip. you did this until the bowl was empty.

pablo, once again being the stubborn man he is, tried to tell you that he didn't need all the fuss, and that you could relax. well, you were even more stubborn. you let him sip water through a straw before turning on his favorite show on low volume on the tv.

"baby, i don't need all this-"

"shh, just relax, cariño. let me take care of you.."

you layed beside him and moved his head to lay slightly on your chest, his eyes still fixed on the sreen.

you had propped up his right leg, under a spare pillow, making sure to keep an eye on it. the doctors would be doing frequent visits and you were determined to make his healing process as smooth as possible.

"you really are an angel, you know that, y/n?" he looked up at you, the glare from the tv shining in his brown eyes.

"you've only told me that a hundred times, guapo." you leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

he hummed softly at the contact, needing the relief.

"i just... i wish i didn't have to miss the whole season. i was doing really well.. it's not fair."

"i know it isn't, pablo. if you ask me, you shouldn't have been starting that match. you need your rest, you're still young."

he huffed in annoyance, letting out all his frustration.

the room fell silent, the faint sounds of the show you had turned on filling the air.

"y/n..?" he whispered gently. he sounded nervous.

you hummed in response.

"what if - when i return - i'm not in the same shape that i was.. what if i can't play well anymore?"

his words broke your heart. he shouldn't have to worry about this at his age. you sighed softly, your hand running through his soft locks. his eyes fluttered shut. he always liked when you did that.

"you won't have to worry, baby. as long as you rest properly, and take it easy, you will be fine. the more you worry, the worse it will get. just.. just let me take care of you. everything will be okay. it will fall into place."

his lips stretched into a soft smile, your words calming him. your hand was still running through his hair, making pablo's adam's apple bob up and down.

"i love you." he whispered, his eyes opening to look into your eyes as he said it.

you bit your lip and smiled softly.

he looked so cute.

"i love you too."

you pressed your lips to his again before leaning into each others warmth.

you both drifted off to sleep.

[veryintricaterituals]

I know I'm a perfect stranger, but I'm a fellow fan, and I need to vent this shit to someone. That was the most heartbreakingly dissappointing and infuriatingly insulting half hour of television I've ever personally experienced. Especially because they had Guillermo there as the perfect audience stand-in relating to all of our pain. I was in tears watching him desperately grapple for some kind of character development, meaning, revelation, resolution, something, ANYTHING. Amid unfunny and often straight up insulting, callous jokes at his and our expense. Plot points brought up and left unresolved, character development left uncompleted. All the obvious Nandermo hints straight up queerbait, Nandor will remain romantically lonely and never discover the love "right under his nose" that was obviously seemingly intended to be Guillermo, Colin will never know Lazlo really raised and cared for him, Memo too, Guidja was never going to happen, Lazlos Dad locked in the closet with Colins Funkos seemingly hinting at making a comeback, not happening. Jerrys betrayal arc anticlimactic, badass parts of Guillermos last fight scenes with his cousin pointlessly cut for unfunny pointless bullshit, Nadja never getting an independent business or whatever, Guillermo and Sean mortal and destined to die and be lost to their friends forever someday. WHY THE FUCK DID COLIN BEAT HIM!?? they were hinting towards him being an EV but now that scene makes no fucking sense missing an opportunity to also explain where EVs come from. The Guide being pushed to the wayside. None of the other characters were brought up again. 3 fake endings obviously meant to insult us for, of course, being upset by this real bullshit one, one of them insulting us for wanting the Nandermo they had hinted at themselves, needlessly stretched between 3 episodes. The shitty Nandermo mocking 'cameras off' comment near the end. We were strung along with Guillermo for SIX FUCKING YEARS, and all of it wasted, none of it mattered. It was all pointless. The writers didnt care. And by the end seemed to hate us for loving and being attached to the show they made for so long and wanting more, and wanting Nandermo, which they set up, and just queer ship rep that they had been setting up in the first place. I guess you could say Guillermo grew the most, but I would've liked to see more about where he ended up. They had the option of another episode they turned down. There was just so, so, much wasted potential with what this show could have been and how much more time could've been spent on it without 'jumping the shark' as Waititi claims if it had competent, progressive, brave, writers who gave a shit all the way through and it didnt need to have constant jokes later on with less dramatic breathing room. They just wanted to be done with it. I can see now why Matt Berry seemed so unenthusiastic in interviews and apparently Harvey seemed annoyed with Simms in promos, and that comment he made in an interview about his last moments on set reminding him of Titanic and "Nandor and Guillermo finally being able to be, y-know" So fucking heartbreaking him experiencing this after getting invested in these characters and their relationship as a queer man himself. I was sitting there watching Guillermo walk into the foyer and just sit there silently defeated in tears, staring into the void as the other characters sang "we'll meet again" in the background, and I'm just crying with him.

The good thing about fandom is that we're all perfect strangers and great friends at the same time, as high school musical once said: "we're all in this together".

Go ahead and vent in my comments! Scream your truth! They fucked with us!

I guess I'm actually not that angry because I could see it coming from a mile away, I feel like I've been grieving this show since season five ended and they destroyed Guillermo's arc, I just didn't think it'd be this bad.

There's just nothing there, no purpose, no aspirations, no character development. I get what they were going for, they been trying to ram it in since season 4 "Vampires don't change and everything stays the same" but the problem is that they have changed and significantly so throughout the seasons, they have grown and learned and loved and lost.

It's just fucking disappointing and such wasted potential, like not even thinking about Nandermo, but in general. They couldn't give an ending to any other character because they had destroyed their characters and arcs so completely there was nothing to say. And they knew that, they had a whole season to figure it out and instead just went, ehh let's use Guillermo as a stand in for the audience and gave us nothing anyway.

I have so many thoughts because I've been watching since season 1 and ughhh, I have so many drafts that I'll be posting in the next few days. All I'm going to say is thank G-d I have interview with the vampire because I would be way more devastated if I didn't have beautifully written gay vampire media to fall back on.

Anyway feel free to come and vent to me!! It's the way to get through this! also we're totally friends now 💜💜

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 14

Summary: Daryl confronts Shane in a furious outburst after discovering he broke the one promise that mattered most—keeping you safe. In a painful flashback, Daryl shuts down your attempts to reconnect, forced to push you away after Shane’s threats. As you struggle to understand his sudden distance, Daryl is torn between protecting you and the guilt of breaking your heart.

warnings: slight mention of blood/gore.

Daryl

X flashback x

The phone vibrated in Daryl’s pocket again, the third time in the past few minutes, but what felt like the millionth time in the past week. He clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. He knew who it was. You'd been calling him for days now, and every time, he found a reason not to pick up. But now, the guilt gnawed at him so hard that his fingers twitched toward the phone before he could stop himself. 

With a heavy sigh, he pulled the phone out and stared at the screen. Your name flashed at him like a challenge. He didn’t want to answer. Couldn’t. Not after everything Shane had said. Had done. But the thought of you waiting for his call, of you still holding on, made his chest feel tight. Against his better judgment, he pressed the answer button and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Daryl?” your voice, soft but filled with worry, hit him like a punch. He winced, his heart kicking up in his chest. He should have let it ring. Should have ignored it again. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff, barely pushing out the word. He could already hear the relief in your voice, and it only made him feel worse. 

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been calling you for days. Did something happen?”

He swallowed hard, forcing down the guilt. He didn’t want to lie to you. He didn’t want to hurt you. But Shane’s words echoed in his head: Stay away from her. Don’t talk to her, don’t even look at her. Back off. Daryl shifted uncomfortably, trying to push the remorse down further. “Nah,” he muttered, his voice flat. “Just busy.”

You didn’t let up. You never did. “Too busy for your best friend?” Your voice was sharper now, the worry turning into frustration. “Come on, Dare. Talk to me, please. Are you mad at me? What did I do?”

You didn’t do anything, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t. Instead, his chest tightened even more, and he clenched the phone harder. “Nothin’. Just leave it.”

The words came out clipped and cold, harsher than he meant. But what else could he do? You didn’t know. You couldn’t know. Shane had made sure of that.

“Daryl, please,” your voice cracked, and he could hear the hurt in it. It twisted something deep inside him. He should hang up. End it now. Before he made it worse.

“I gotta go,” he said quickly, his throat tightening. He could feel his heart pounding harder, and all he wanted was to tell you the truth. To explain everything. But that would only drag you deeper into this mess. He couldn’t risk it. You were at school--with a future. You should finally take the chance to leave this shit hole, not let him keep you here. 

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and for a second, he thought you might say something else. But then your voice came through, small and broken. “Okay.”

Daryl felt like his chest could cave in as he pressed “end”, and stared at the phone in his hand, feeling like he’d just thrown something important away. Something he couldn’t get back.

He dropped the phone onto the table, running a hand through his hair, his chest still tight. He should’ve told you the truth. But what good would that have done? Shane had made it crystal clear the last time he’d seen him. Back off, or shit will go down. He knew Officer Shane Walsh could pull some shit to get Merle or him into trouble without needing a lick of proof. It wasn’t fair, but nothing in his life ever was.

Daryl leaned back against the wall, the silence settling in around him. He couldn’t shake the sound of your voice—hurt, confused, because of him. And he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that no matter what he did, he’d already lost you.

x flash forward x

The gravel crunches from the sound of tires slowly approaching, and Daryl whips his head up to see bright headlights shining through the glass.

“Daryl–” Rick starts, but he’s already out the room, nearly ripping the front door off its hinges as he flies out onto the porch. 

Shane Walsh is closing the truck door as Daryl approaches. He’s covered in blood and visibly exhausted. Limping, he walks to the house. But when he sees Daryl, he stops in his tracks.

Shane looks wrecked—clothes covered in dried blood, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. His eyes are blown wide in what could be shock, desperation. His face is a mess of exhaustion and pain, but Daryl doesn’t care. The only thing pounding in Daryl's ears is the sound of his own heartbeat, matching the heavy thud of his boots on the dirt. Every step Shane takes toward him fuels the storm brewing inside Daryl’s chest.

By the time Shane reaches him, Daryl’s entire body is a live wire of rage, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Without warning, Daryl surges forward and slams Shane against the truck with a force that sends the bags tumbling from Shane’s shoulders. The gun hits the ground with a loud clatter, but Daryl barely registers it.

“You were supposed to protect her,” Daryl roars, every word meant to be a physical blow as much as his hands on Shane. He grabs him by the front of his shirt, pushing him against the truck, “the only reason I ever—you made one promise, Shane! One!”

Shane’s wide, disassociating eyes meet Daryl’s, but there’s no fight left in him. He doesn’t even try to shove Daryl back. He lets himself be slammed against the truck, the impact rattling through his body. “Daryl—” he tries to say, but the words barely leave his lips.

“What the hell happened out there? How the fuck did you let her get shot, you piece of shit?” Daryl shouts at Shane, but suddenly there’s two hands on his shoulders, pulling him back.

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” he hears Rick’s voice behind him, pulling his body back.

Daryl forces out of Rick’s grip, but doesn't lunge again, fists balled tightly. His entire body shakes as he narrows his eyes at the man in front of him. His mind is racing, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a vice. He wanted answers, but none of them could change the fact that she was hurt. And it was Shane who let it happen.

“Give the supplies to the old man. At least he can actually do somethin'," Daryl growls before turning away, stomping his way back up the stairs into the dimly lit house. 

He had gotten kicked out of the room when they began their assault on your body–he couldn’t stand to watch anyway. Of all the blood he’d seen in his life from skinning his own kills, taking down walkers–hell, seeing other people get killed and bitten, or eaten alive–he couldn’t stand to see you cut open like that. Daryl chews the skin around his thumbnail as he paces in the middle of the night. The porch light casts everything past the trees into blackness. He sometimes looks toward them, thinking of the little girl out there all alone, but then his thoughts rush back to you, hoping that you’ll be alright. 

Rick and Lori are clutching one another on the side of the house, but Daryl hardly notices them as the rhythm of his footsteps seems to soothe him. Shane leans on the hood of the truck, his eyes cast down on the ground while they wait. Jesus, if he had to look at him any longer he might actually lose his shit. He hates looking at the man that tore Y/N from him all those years ago. Even though you went to college, he thought about the life you would’ve had with him if Shane Walsh hadn’t barged in like a disease, infiltrating your thoughts, beliefs…your heart. But when you had told him at the church that he was right about Shane and Lori, something that he had thought had burned out long ago warmed again. Like blowing softly on embers, a fire beginning to grow when you thought it almost went out. And then this absolute nightmare of her being shot in the woods made those embers blaze higher, licking at his insides, making his heart shoot into his throat when he thought of her in that bed. 

He briefly wonders about the others along the highway. He had seen Glenn and T-Dog finally arrive at the house a few hours after him. Shane barely looked at them as they strode into the house. They hadn’t been allowed into the room where the old man worked on Y/N’s wounds, but the daughter had helped T-Dog with his arm. Glenn sits on the front porch now too, rocking in the nearest chair with his head in his hands. 

Suddenly, the screen door opens quietly, and they all jump up to look at the man in the doorway. Hershel is wiping his hands with a clean cloth as he turns to all of them with a small smile, “both of them have seemed to stabilize,”

Daryl feels a small twinge of guilt that he momentarily at the realization he forgot Carl was in there, bandaged and wounded too. His injury wasn’t as fatal, but the poor kid still needed medical care. He watches Rick run over, smiling with tears in his eyes as he pulls the doctor into a tight hug. Hershel says something about Otis, something about having to tell Patricia about him. Daryl’s blank thoughts hardly even register the words as he stares at the man.

It feels like they’re all struck for words–dumbly staring at him. Daryl’s hands twitch as he itches to be back by your side. Hershel meets his eye, and nods his head over his shoulder, “go on, now, she might wake up soon,”

[sorinethemastermind]

Big Feelings Time

In which Soren grapples with what happened the night of the full moon, and makes peace with Runaan on behalf of his king.

 No one was really sure what to do about the elf. Runaan, Soren corrected himself. He had a name.

 The only person he seemed to know how to speak to was Rayla. Probably cause, you know, he was her Dad. And he was here. Soren tried not to think about the mess of emotions that simple fact awoke in him. But it wasn’t that simple, because to Runaan it had only been a few days since he’d killed the king. And now that king’s son was dating his daughter. (Soren was happy Rayla and Callum had finally worked that out, it had been getting awkward). 

 He couldn't really blame the elf for not knowing what to do or where to go. If he stuck by Rayla’s side then Callum was always there, frazzled and distracted and riddled with guilt about the pearl and the castle and everything. It was a lot even without adding the fact that his potential future father-in-law had killed his step-dad. It gave Soren a headache just thinking about it.

 And if he went into the camp at all he was sure to run into Ezran, who seemed to be everywhere at once these days; helping Opeli with the wounded, sending out letters with the Crow whatever-he-was-now. He’d even somehow found the time to visit every family who had fled the fires. Soren thought that the worst part was how Ezran kept trying to smile at the elf even though it looked like the action caused him physical pain. He made a mental note to take him aside later for some Big Feelings Time, as the brothers liked to call it. 

 And then there was, well, him. He had almost killed Runaan. He would have too, if Claudia hadn't stopped him. And then what had happened? His father had trapped his soul in a coin for several years. And that was probably the least of the reasons the elf had to hate him. He could still remember that night; the way the torches had all gone out at once, the clang of metal against metal, the wet sound it made when it didn’t hit metal…

 “Soren?” 

 He jumped. Ezran was there, looking up at him. Soren straightened, making sure to smile. “Yeah?”

 “Were you… sleeping standing up?”

 “No. I was just, uh, thinking. Why?”

 “Because your eyes were closed.” Ezran said, eyebrow arching a little bit. He looked so much like his father when he did that. 

 “It helps me… think.” Soren explained. In all honesty he hadn’t realized they’d drifted closed. It had felt nice, though. 

 “You should get some rest.”

 “I did last night. Just like you ordered.”

 “So this morning you had time to travel all the way to the Valley of Graves, discover that Aaravos had escaped, and come back. All before breakfast?”

 “...Yes?” Soren tried. Ezran didn’t seem impressed, but he didn’t press it. 

 “Have you seen Callum?” he asked instead.

 “I’m pretty sure I saw him and Rayla head over that way.” Soren pointed towards a small clearing in the trees, just across from where they had set up camp. Good. The brothers had barely had any time to talk after Callum got back, what with everything else going on. They needed this.

 “Great. I’m going to go talk to him.” Ezran said, the set of his mouth determined. “Um. Do you think I should say that we need to let go of the past to build a brighter future or that the future is about breaking the cycles of hatred which have kept us chained for so long?”

 Soren sighed. The kid had forgotten how to talk to his own brother. Then he realized what this talk must be about. “Maybe… neither? Callum took the news about the pearl pretty hard, maybe you should wait to talk about… the elf situation.”

 “He’s not the elf, Soren. And he’s not a situation. He’s Rayla’s father.”

 “I know, I know. That’s not what I meant. I just… you’ve got to have some feelings about this whole thing.”

 Ezran did that thing again where he smiled too wide. But despite his obvious efforts, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Why would I have feelings about it? He’s just Rayla’s Dad. I’m glad he’s here!”

 “Yeah, but see, your voice sorta does this thing when you say that that makes me feel like you do have feelings and just…” Soren sighed. “Look, I know I’m not Callum. Obviously. But I’m still here for you, to protect you but also… whatever you need. Like words and stuff.”

 Ezran’s smile wavered and he took a deep breath. “How can I ask everyone to move on from the past when I can’t?” he said quietly, eyes downcast.

 Soren knelt before him, placing his hands on his shoulders the way he used to when he was just a little kid. Before he was a king and everything got all… complicated. “No one is expecting you to move on.”

 “I’m not supposed to hate him, Soren. I really don’t want to. I tried so hard not to. But… but even though it’s been so long I still miss him.”

 “I know.” Soren wrapped his arms around Ezran and pulled him in close, sheltering him in his arms for a moment so that the kid could just be, well, that. A kid. A kid who misses his Dad, and nothing more. 

 The moment didn’t last long, and when Ezran pulled away his eyes were wet, but there was a real determination in them that had been missing before. 

 “I’m going to get everything ready for the trek to the Banther Lodge.” he said, voice taught. “I can talk to him when we get there.”

 “I’ll talk to Runaan.” Soren decided aloud.

 “But, Soren…” Ezran trailed off, biting his lip. “Won't he… remember you from that night?”

 Soren blew a strand of blond hair out of his face. “Yeah. But I can handle it. Look, you go help your people, okay? That’s your job. My job is helping you.” 

 “Thank you.” his king said, standing up a little straighter.

 “You got it.” Soren grinned at him and, after a moment, Ezran walked back the way he’d come.

 Soren’s grin faded along with his fake nonchalance. Ezran might be a quick study, but Soren had years on him. The art of the facade was just that, an art. And you had to practice art. Sort of like poetry, though that somehow needed even more practice.

 It didn’t take long to spot Runaan. He was in the same place he had been since they arrived; hovering just slightly out of view in the trees near the edge of the encampment. Soren rolled his shoulders and pushed his hair out of his face with the back of a gauntleted hand. He had this. 

 “Hey!” he called, waving to the elf in a voice that sounded way too cheery even to his own ears. He tried to modulate it in the middle of the greeting, but all that accomplished was giving him the voice of a prepubescent teen. He tried again as he got closer. “Hey, it’s Runaan, right?”

 The elf looked at him for a long moment. “Yes.”

 “I’m Soren.” instinctively he started to stick out his hand, then decided maybe that wasn’t the best thing for this scenario, and used it to lean against a tree instead. Totally casual.

 “Did someone send you?”

 “What? Me? Noooooo.” Soren laughed. “I mean, I guess I sent myself but… yeah, no."

 “I see.” the elf blinked, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows as he studied Soren. 

 Casual conversation. Casual conversation. Casual conversation. Soren thought desperately, grasping for something to say that would lead them in the right direction. Or any direction other than the one he knew they were about to go.

 “So, what do you think of Katol-”

  “Here to finish me off, then?”

 They both spoke at the same time, seemingly caught off guard by what the other had said.

 Soren practically tripped over his own words to get them out first.  “Definitely not!  I know we didn’t exactly meet on the best of terms but-”

 “You killed one of my companions and were about to chop off my head.”

 “Yes, but-” Soren let out an exasperated huff, tossing his hands into the air. “You killed the king!”

 For a moment neither of them was really sure what to say to that.

 “I… did.” Runaan admitted eventually.

 Soren still remembered how the arrow had looked sticking from the king’s chest. The look of surprise on his face, the way it had seemed to flick from that and through a million other emotions in the time it took him to stagger and slump to the ground. The cold expression that this very elf had worn as he lowered his bow. The blood and the bodies and the pointlessness of it all and-

 “What was his name?” Soren blurted, surprising even himself. But he continued. Maybe knowing would make it worse, but he had to. “The- the one with the twin blades?”

 A shadow passed over Runaan’s face and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Skor.”

 Skor. Soren shivered, the cool darkness of that night creeping through him again like a chill breeze.

 “You never forget your first.” Runaan said softly, eyes distant. “We believe that you should honor the fallen, even your enemies. For they have died so that you may live.”

 “I try to.” Soren said, adding Skor to the list of people he owed his life to. If not in the same way. “Look, I know that this can’t be easy for you, working with humans and all. After… everything. But we’re not here because it’s easy. We’re here because it’s the right thing to do. And what you did that night wasn’t right, and what I did wasn’t either. Because there was no right thing that we could have done. But there is now.”

 “A lot has changed.”

 “Tell me about it.” Soren said with a slight smile, trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately Runaan didn’t seem to understand the concept of lightening or of moods.

 “And yet we still face the same monsters as before.”

 “Uh-”

 “Dark mages have always been a scourge on these lands. And now they have released him. It was only a matter of time. At least now, with our combined strength, we may stand a chance of getting rid of them for good.”

 Soren bristled instinctively at the way he said dark mages even though he knew the elf was right. Better to get it all out in the open now, he decided. “Yeah, about that. The mage who released him, we discussed it and we’re actually not doing any getting rid of.”

 “They released the dark star! They are-”

 “She’s my sister.”

 Runaan stopped mid sentence, looking at him again. His eyes widened with realization. “The girl. The one from that night. She was...”

 “She’s my sister. And… and I know her. I can get through to her. I have to. So that’s the plan. That’s what we’re going to do.” 

 “She is a dark mage. They have no respect for the living-”

 “I’m standing here because of dark magic.” Soren said, voice rising. “Your daughter is here because of dark magic. Katolis-” he swept his hands back towards the encampment and the people there. “-is here because of dark magic. It isn’t right, and it’s not fair. But it’s also true.”

 “My daughter… is here… because of dark magic?”

 Soren sighed. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. “A lot of us are.”

 “Not the mage from the castle?” Runaan breathed, eyes going wide.

 “No. Not him. That was my father. He… he and Rayla didn’t get along.”

 “Your… father.”

 “Yeah.”

 “And yet you are here, with them. With my Rayla.”

 “It took me a while to realize who he really was.” Soren said, voice quiet. “I think I’m still figuring it out.”

 “I have made many mistakes as a father.” Runaan said, looking past him and towards the encampment. “That night… was one of them. And yet Rayla forgave me, even when I could not forgive myself.”

 “That’s who she is. She gives people second chances, even when they don’t know if they deserve them. Look,” Soren sighed. “I’m not going to tell you it’ll be easy, cause it won’t. But Rayla deserves to have her Dad back, and none of us will hold that against her. Or you.”

 “A lot has changed.” 

 “Everything. Everything has changed. Because of her. Because of what she and Ezran and Callum did. So live up to it.”

 “I will try.” 

 “Good.” Soren said, and the silence that followed was more comfortable this time. The truth of that night would always linger over them all, but maybe there was a light in the darkness as well. Rayla had her Dad back. 

 At least one of them should.

[smilingformoney]

Desirium

Severus is testing a new potion, with unexpected side-effects. (aka: sex potion trope but make it Snephy)

Snape x OC | smut

Warnings/content: masturbation, blowjob, slight dubcon if you squint, desk sex, dom!Snape (later service dom), orgasm denial, overstimulation, possessive Snape, cunnilingus, use of safe word

Read on Ao3 or below:

Now that the twins had started nursery, Persephone and Severus had a lot more time to themselves. Generally, this involved catching up on the sleep they’d lost since they were born, although for Severus it also meant throwing himself into his work without interruptions from feral children - something he had craved ever since he’d started working at Hogwarts over twenty years ago.

It wasn’t surprising to Persephone, then, that some mornings she took the girls to nursery on her own, as Severus was deep in concentration over his desk, or his cauldron, and she didn’t want to disturb him. One morning in particular, she returned home from dropping the girls off when she heard Severus’ voice in his study. He never spoke to himself - he could go without speaking as long as he was allowed to be cooped up in his cave. He and April were similar in that way, their non-verbal communication far beyond anything Persephone, Ariadne or Abbie had been able to achieve.

At first Persephone thought someone might be in there with him, but as she listened, she realised he wasn’t talking, but moaning. He almost sounded like he did in bed, on the now only too rare night that they weren’t too busy, or too tired to have sex.

She opened the door cautiously, knowing he didn’t like to be disturbed, and was surprised to discover exactly why he sounded like he did in bed - he was sat back in his chair, his eyes scrunched tight as he furiously pumped his fist around his cock.

“Sephy,” he mumbled to the air.

He hadn’t realised yet that she was there. Although the sight was arousing, Persephone was a little hurt - could he not have waited for her to get home? Did he now prefer his own touch over hers, leaving her role only to that of fantasy?

He needed a reminder, she decided. On her tip-toes so as to not make a sound, she crossed the room to him. Her sneaking skills must have been rusty, though, because he seemed to sense her presence when she approached and his eyes opened. Rather than being shocked or embarrassed that she’d caught him in a compromising position, his eyes only grew more lustful when he saw her. His right hand showed no signs of slowing; with his spare hand, he reached up and grabbed her waist, pulling her towards him.

“Sev…” Persephone gasped; he only growled in response as she fell on his lap, and he pushed down on her shoulder to force her to her knees. He squeezed her chin to open her mouth, and suddenly his cock was down her throat.

She choked slightly, his cock having been shoved so suddenly and so forcefully into her dry mouth. If Severus noticed, he didn’t care, as he grabbed her by the hair and held her head still as he rutted furiously into her mouth. She knelt there, coat and shoes still on from having been outside, as her husband face-fucked her until he came down her throat. Only then did he finally release her hair from his hand, and Persephone was finally able to breathe when she was able to extract herself from his crotch.

A thousand questions were swimming in her head, but the one that came out was, “How the fuck are you still hard?”

Sure enough, despite having cum down her throat only moments ago, Severus’ cock was still standing to attention.

He groaned, knuckles turning white as he gripped the arms of his chair in frustration, seemingly trying to resist going right back down her throat. “Still… need to cum…” he managed to say, although it seemed to be a struggle for him to even speak.

Persephone got to her feet and looked down at him. He looked incredibly hot, his whole body quivering with lust as he physically restrained himself from moving. His eyes were closed, as if looking at her would be too much.

“I tested a new potion,” he said through gritted teeth. “The side effects are… unexpected.”

Persephone couldn’t help but laugh. “You tested a new potion on yourself, and the side effects make you uncontrollably horny?”

“Yes.”

Severus opened his eyes, and as soon as he laid eyes on her body, his hands were on her hips, pulling her down to straddle his lap.

“Need you,” he growled, his hands clawing uselessly at her clothing. “Naked. Now.”

“Say please,” Persephone teased.

Severus groaned in frustration. “Get your clothes off, please, or else I might just die if I don’t fuck you.”

“Yes, sir.”

She began unbuttoning her coat, but even that was too slow for him. Severus pulled the coat apart with his own hands, sending buttons flying, but he didn’t seem to care. He moaned with relief to see she was wearing a low-cut t-shirt, and he buried his face in her breasts, nuzzling them like they were a pillow after a long day.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moaned. “Mhm… Sephy…”

He pushed the fabric of her t-shirt and bra to the side to allow a breast to escape, and Persephone hissed slightly in pain as he took her nipple in his mouth and pinched it between his teeth.

She could feel his erection pressed between their bodies, and if she weren’t wearing trousers, she needed only to lower herself a few inches to fill herself up with him.

Severus seemed to be similarly frustrated, because he removed her breast from his mouth with a pop , picked his wand up from the desk, and with two quick waves their clothes had vanished. As his wand clattered to the floor, Severus pushed Persephone backwards to lay her on the desk. He ignored the parchment being crushed beneath her back, and paid no mind to the vial of liquid that crashed to the floor. She had no chance to ask what they’d just broken when she felt her husband’s cock filling her up, crawling up her walls as he fit so perfectly inside her. He wasted no time thrusting furiously into her, his depraved grunts filling the room as he fucked her so hard, so fast, that the desk began to creak beneath them.

At least he was enjoying himself; he’d spent no time getting her ready as he usually did, and so the feeling of his cock rubbing against her dry walls was painful and uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to say something, but whatever had been in the smashed vial wafted into her face, and she breathed in something that smelt a little like Amortentia, but mixed with the familiar smell of sweat and cum.

The gaseous potion filled her lungs, and her heart immediately began to race. The painful fucking suddenly became very pleasurable indeed as her cunt moistened itself around Severus’ cock, and all Persephone wanted was to cum while he was buried deep inside her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered that she must have breathed in whatever substance Severus had drank to make himself uncontrollably horny, but that voice was small compared to the overwhelming need for her husband’s body.

She moved her hand towards her clit, desperate for extra stimulation, but Severus slapped her hand away.

“No cumming yet,” he growled. “Not until I say so.”

“Please,” Persephone begged. Maybe if she came, the torturous need coursing through her veins would be sated. She had never been so horny in her life, and she now understood what Severus said earlier; she, too, felt like she might die if their bodies ever disconnected. He was part of her, and she was part of him; why should they ever need to separate?

Severus grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head as he leant closer to her, their bodies pressed together as he grunted furiously into her ear, his face buried in her neck. Persephone let out a small yelp as he sunk his teeth into her flesh, latching on like a hungry babe to a breast, and a wet, cold sensation told her he had drawn blood. Somewhere in her mind she registered the pain, but the sensation of his mouth on her neck, his hands on her wrists, his chest on hers, his cock still pounding furiously in and out of her cunt - it was far more pleasurable than the small pinch of broken skin.

She so desperately needed to cum, to clamp her walls around his cock and milk him for all he had, but he’d given her an order and she was terrified, if she disobeyed, he’d never let her cum at all. So she tried to think of something else, anything else, to keep her peak at bay. Over Severus’ shoulder, she looked at the jars of slimy ingredients lining his shelves, all gross and gooey, wide-eyed dead creatures staring at her from their glass prisons, all lined up neatly and meticulously organised. She could just imagine Severus perusing the shelves, his elegant fingers gently skimming across each jar as he looked for the right ingredient… the same fingers that could find her sweet spot in seconds, the fingers that were now creeping down her arm to wrap around her throat, and she was snapped back to reality when he squeezed just above her clavicle. It was the smallest of squeezes, testing her response, and when she gasped in pleasure, Severus smirked as he lifted his head to look at her, watching her face contorting in blissful pleasure-pain as his grip on her tightened.

“I’m going to cum in your beautiful cunt,” he growled. “And you’re going to take every - last - drop.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Persephone moaned. “Give me your cum, please, I need you to fill me up, please, please, please…”

“Yes, take it, take my cum… my good girl, mine, mine… MINE!” Severus roared as he came, his cries of ecstasy echoing through the room, and if they’d had any neighbours, there would be no doubt they’d be heard. His hips stilled deep inside her, plugging her up as his cum shot inside her, and his grip on her throat tightened so much she almost couldn’t breathe.

Persephone inhaled deeply when his grip relaxed and Severus collapsed, spent, on her sweaty body, as if she’d taken not just his cum but all of his energy in one blissful moment.

Blissful for him, perhaps - her cunt was still on fire, desperate for the wave of bliss only he could so expertly pull from her. She grinded her hips against his, desperate for any kind of stimulation; his cock was softening, but she needed him desperately, if not his cock then his fingers, his tongue, anything…

“Severus…” Persephone moaned, and she realised she was crying. “Please, Severus, please…”

Severus was still trying to catch his breath, but his panting stopped when he heard her pleas. He looked up at her, eyes wide with shock, as if he was only just realising he’d completely forgotten her needs.

He pulled out of her and dropped to his knees in an instant, ignoring the cum dripping out of her as he buried his face between her legs. Persephone cried out with relief when his tongue ran over her clit, and she knew she wouldn’t last long. Severus slipped two of those beautiful fingers inside her wrecked pussy, elegantly caressing her inner sweet spot as his sharp tongue traced circles around her clit.

Thank fuck he wasn’t teasing. He usually ate her out so slowly and carefully at first, building up her pleasure before letting her cum. But now he wasted no time, finger-fucking her furiously as he sucked on her clit for dear life. Persephone clawed uselessly at the desk beneath her, and when she couldn’t find anything to hold onto, she sunk her fingers into her husband’s silky hair, nails digging into his scalp as with one, two, three perfect strokes of his fingers, she exploded with ecstasy, her walls clamping around his fingers as he kept stimulating her through her orgasm, only slowing to a stop when the last aftershock of her orgasm had left her body and she, too, felt her energy drain away instantly.

Persephone released her grip on him and he sat back into his chair, his hair a mess, his cheeks flushed red and his chin glistening with her sticky juices. Severus closed his eyes as he caught his breath, and only opened them when his wife crawled onto his lap, nuzzling his neck as she snuggled up to him.

His rock-hard chair might be suitable for him to work from, but it certainly wasn’t made for cuddling. He apparated them up to their bedroom, their naked bodies appearing on the edge of the bed, and together they slid under the blanket, holding each other as close as they could.

For a few moments they lay there, soaking in the blissful aftereffects of what had just happened, until Persephone spoke.

“What the fuck was that?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Not the intended effect of the potion,” Severus replied.

Persephone chuckled. “Clearly. What was it supposed to do?”

“It was only supposed to give me an erection. I may have to dial back some of the ingredients.”

“Why do you need a potion to give you an erection?” Persephone asked curiously, looking up at him as she rested her head on his chest.

“I don’t - not yet. But it’s a common issue among men my age - I’m hoping to create a potion to market. I may need it myself one day, but I assure you, the only assistance I need to get hard is thinking of you.”

Severus wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close and taking in her scent. “I’m sorry, I was very selfish just now. All I could think of was my own pleasure.”

“Thank Merlin the orgasm stopped the potion’s effects. I don’t think either of us would have the energy to go for much longer than we did.”

Severus hummed thoughtfully. “It seems it was only that last orgasm that worked. None of the previous ones did - I still felt desperately horny.”

“Previous ones? How many times did you cum in your own hand before I came home, Sev?”

He blushed, his eyes darting to the side to avoid hers. “Three times,” he admitted. “Each time, I maintained the erection and my desire throughout… it was only cumming inside you that worked.”

“Maybe it doesn’t just make you horny… when I breathed it in, I felt a need to cum, but mostly it was just a need for you. Perhaps it was less a need for pleasure, and more a need for connection, the intimacy of sex.”

“Perhaps. My mind was swimming with thoughts of you, but it wasn’t until I had you in front of me that I really felt sated. I suppose that’s logical - I based the recipe on that of Amortentia.”

“I thought that was what I smelt. It’s hard to tell when Amortentia smells like you, and I’ve already got you there. I can’t tell if I’m smelling you or the potion.”

“Your Amortentia smells like me?”

Persephone laughed. She propped her head up on her hand and smiled at him incredulously. “Of course it does, Sev. What else would it smell like?”

“Mine smells of you too,” he admitted. “When we were apart, I always hated teaching Amortentia, because the whole classroom just smelled like you. Your lavender shampoo, the firewhisky you always kept at your home… and a smell I couldn’t identify for years. It wasn’t until we had the girls that I realised it was the smell of baby powder. I must have smelt it that day I came to see you when Abbie was a baby.”

“I smell firewhisky too,” Persephone said with a laugh. “We must be a couple of drunks.”

Severus chuckled and brushed a stray hair from her face. “What else do you smell?” he asked.

“Cinnamon, of course. And a kind of damp wood smell - it’s what your old house smelt like after the rain.”

Severus smiled. Even after all this time, he still seemed to find it hard to believe she loved him as much as she did.

“I should probably reduce those elements,” he said thoughtfully. “My aim is arousal, not carnal lust.”

“And you should probably wait until I’m home to test it,” Persephone said, firmly but with a hint of a tease. “I can be your… control subject.”

“Mmm, I do like having you under my control,” Severus teased as his hand snaked down her body to squeeze at her arse. “And you’re certainly my favourite subject.”

Persephone laughed, then kissed his soft lips lovingly before he turned the kiss hungry, hands digging into her waist as he held her flush against him. He flipped her onto her back and moved his kisses to her neck, taking care across the bruise that was forming across her neck, before moving further down her body and taking her nipple into his mouth. Severus hummed with satisfaction, never releasing his latch onto her breast even as his hand travelled lower down her body.

“Is the potion still working?” Persephone asked, trying to contain a moan as her husband’s skilled fingers began teasing at her folds.

“No,” Severus replied as he released her nipple from his mouth and began kissing every inch of her breasts. “This is all you. All for you. Five orgasms for me this morning and only one for you?” He tutted with disapproval. “That won’t do. I’ll make sure you have another six, at least.”

“We’re not as young as we used to be, Sev,” Persephone reminded him. “I don’t know if - ah!” She gasped as his finger slipped inside her. “...if I can do that anymore.”

“Oh, you will,” Severus promised. He looked up at her, dark eyes alight with a fierce determination. “I’ll keep you in this bed all day if I have to. Oh, the things I’ll do to you, Sephy… I’ll have you cumming until you’re begging for mercy.” He pressed his thumb against her clit, and chuckled darkly when she twitched.

“So eager for me already. This is going to be so easy…”

She came within a minute, and just as he promised, by the time lunchtime came, she’d cum not just six, but seven more times before she was indeed begging him for mercy, insisting she had no orgasms left in her.

“One more,” Severus promised. Persephone had her arms tied above her head, the other end of the soft yet secure ribbons meeting the ceiling above the bed. The ribbons were just long enough to suspend her above the mattress, her bent knees not quite meeting the surface. Her arms ached as they held up her weight, unless she were able to sit on a pillow - but Severus, of course, had no intention of giving her any sort of pillow to rest on. Instead her weight rested on his face, and as his tongue explored her cunt and his nose rubbed against her clit just right, Severus moaned with lust, enjoying every moment of his wife’s dripping wet cunt trapping him beneath her.

When she came for what he promised was the last time, her thighs clenched around his head, and Severus knew that even the slightest of friction against his cock would have him cumming too. But he ignored his aching member - he’d taken his own pleasure enough, perhaps too much, that morning. He wanted to give his wife all the pleasure she deserved, and he was sorely tempted, when her orgasm subsided, to keep going, to lap up everything she had, to leave her trembling and unable to speak. He was just picking up the pace again to do exactly that when she spoke, and his movements froze.

“Gillyweed!”

On hearing her safe word, Severus gently withdrew his tongue from inside her and removed her hips from his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly, grabbing his wand from nearby to release her bonds, allowing her to finally drop onto the bed. He caught her as she fell and laid her down gently. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, just… too much. I can’t… I can’t cum again, Sev, I might pass out,” Persephone replied, catching her breath as a tear of frustration rolled down her cheek.

Even so, Severus insisted on checking her over, and although she was red and sweaty from exertion, and some handprints and fingernail marks adorned her body, there were no new marks past the bruise on her neck.

“Oh, darling, you’re exhausted,” he said soothingly, gently caressing her face. “I think you need a bath, hm? We’ll get you cleaned up, then we’ll have some late lunch.”

Persephone smiled and nodded, and soon enough they sunk into the hot, soapy bath together. She knew he was really going all out when he filled the bath with his favourite soap, a fancy concoction Lucius had gifted him last Christmas. A sigh of relief escaped her lungs when she felt the hot water on her sore skin and a relaxant in the soap left her melting into her husband’s arms.

“Better?” Severus mumbled in her ear as he held her carefully, as if worried he may break her.

“Mhm,” Persephone mumbled in response, her eyes already closed as she relaxed into his embrace.

“Is there anything more I can do for you, my love? Anything at all. I am yours to command.”

“There is one thing you could do,” Persephone replied, and her cheeky tone made him suspicious, but he was determined to stick to his promise.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Pick the girls up from nursery today.”

Severus chuckled warmly.

“Of course I will, darling. Of course I will.”

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

hi! could a request a scenario with sebek where his s/o is really short and quiet and so he doesn’t notice them behind him and accidentally elbows them in the head or face and ends up injuring them? and how he feels and takes care of them after it happens

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek was a strong advocate for loudly announcing your presence before entering a room.

He had come up with this rule only because you’d stood around waiting to draw his attention for almost too long, politely

allowing him to finish a conversation before speaking up. He was surprised then, eyes wide as he asked just how long you had been standing there waiting to speak with him. He seemed more annoyed than even you were, scolding you on standing tall (hard to do when you’re short) and puffing out your chest with some authority so you drew attention to yourself. You had nodded and promised to try, pushing his advice to the back of your mind as you got on with the task you had been given.

But clearly, you should’ve taken him a little more seriously.

You can see the shock in Sebek’s face as you let out a pained cry, hand protectively cradling your potentially broken nose. His eyes start out wide, like an enemy observing its prey and getting ready to chomp down on their throat, but they soften when he realized it was just you. There’s a brief moment where he’s getting ready to address you before his brain noticed the slight amount of blood dripping from between your fingers to the floor.

“W-What happened?!” He asked, wincing as you did the same and took a step back out of reflex. He’d already elbowed you in the face once, you and your bones weren’t prepared for round two. “Come here!”

Nurse Sebek is on the case as he sat you down on a nearby chair, whipping his head around for any cloth in the area he could use. He demanded you keep pinching your nose until he was back, rushing around the dorm like a madman as he gathered all the material he needed; he requested Silver get some ice from the cafeteria for him as he didn’t want to leave your side for that long, his sleepy companion nodding without question. Sebek was in such a frantic state, with a splash of blood on his hands, so Silver could only assume something had happened to either you or Malleus (which he would know about if it was the young master) and that meant achieving his task before discovering what had happened.

The pain is subsiding ever so slightly and the bleeding has finally slowed, with Sebek having you keep your hands at your side as he carefully dabbed at your face with a wet towel. He was concentrating more than he did on his exams, a gentle touch he didn’t normally apply being used as he couldn’t bear to worsen your wounds that he caused. You could see there was guilt written everywhere across his face, the brief tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes after he realized he had been the one to hurt you coming to mind again, almost making you want to cry.

“…I’m sorry.”

“…Excuse me?”

“I should’ve announced myself like you told me… I’m sorry.”

Sebek looked frustrated, clenching the towel so tight his knuckles turned whiter. He doesn’t reply at first which sets you a little on edge, he wasn’t really one to keep things to himself and the lack of communication was already setting your anxiety off.

“It was my fault. I’ll take the responsibility for it.” He’s still quieter than you’d ever heard him be but at least he’s talking now; you wanted to reach out to touch him, to hold his face and tell you that you accepted his apology but you knew he hated being coddled like that. “I-I’ll clean your uniform as well! And the floor--"

"Thank you, Sebek. I appreciate your help!" You gave a small nod, slipping in a reassuring smile as well before Sebek went back to dabbing at the still red areas where dried blood was. "And you are forgiven. Please don't beat yourself up over this."

Sebek just had to train more. To sharpen his senses so he could detect you, to know when you had entered the room without you having to be the one to speak up. He should've been training himself for such a situation this entire time, considering he knew how stealthily you could maneuver, and yet he had neglected to act despite telling you to change your own behavior.

He would become a better man, a better body guard, by honing this trait.

And he would hopefully never have to see you wounded again.

[sllverchariot]

How do you think gale would be with a drow partner? Like he’s always hearing people talk badly about drones and maybe even his partner getting refused service at a in because they’re a drow?

this is maybe (definitely) out of character and perhaps (definitely) needs some edits but it has been in my drafts far too long and i needed to get it OUT. enjoy !!! :)

word count: 2.8k

Gale had found you, the love of his life, his great love, in truly the most unexpected circumstance. You, his sun and his moon and every one of his stars, the one who inspired him to continue on, discovered in an utterly dark patch of his life.

He fell in love with you slowly, at first. His life had grown beyond dreary with the addition of his orb; locked away in his tower for all that time with no one other than Tara to keep him company. Too scared to get close to anyone for fear of the volatility of his condition, not to mention the broken heart he was still nursing.

But meeting you, being around you, felt like a glimmer of hope in the otherwise dark pit he found himself in.

First, he was just grateful to have someone to talk to, and then even more so when you let him ramble uninterrupted without even a snide comment.

Then, his fondness of you only grew, following your unwavering acceptance of his need to consume magic items, despite the fact that you’d quite literally just met him.

Each time his need became too great, you were always right there, with magic for him to absorb and a smile on your face as you handed it over. The only hesitancy being from concern, which was so clearly written on your face each time.

The last time he absorbed an item, the moment he realized his condition was truly worsening, when he finally opened up to you and told you of his plight, allowed you to truly see inside his past, was when he became quite sure. He’d fallen for you, totally and completely. When you placed your hand on his chest, feeling the powerful magic rippling beneath the surface, he prayed you wouldn’t also feel the unbelievable pounding of his heart along with it.

You’d drawn him in completely. When he was with you, it felt like you were the only two people in the world. Every worry, every stress seemed to melt away completely. When he was with you, he didn’t think about Mystra, or the orb. He was only thinking of you, and how lucky he felt to even be in your presence.

But Gods, if he wasn’t scared of what that meant. Surely he couldn’t allow himself to get too close to you, not with the orb being as unpredictable as it was. He absolutely couldn’t risk hurting you, refused to allow even the thought of letting you in harm’s way. He’d be content to watch you from afar, taking in your every little detail and reveling the moments he was graced with your presence. He’d spend his days yearning for you, his nights dreaming of you, and convince himself that was enough.

This all changed, however, with the unexpected arrival of Elminster, and the devastating message he brought along.

This painted things in an entirely new light.

He had spent so long pining for Mystra, praying for her forgiveness, that she might have a change of heart one day and welcome him back to her. Thinking he’d do anything to be back in her good graces. But when that opportunity presented himself, truly all he could think about was you.

If he’d been sentenced to death by the goddess as his final form of retribution, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to use his final days to show you just how much you meant to him.

You, who made him feel alive again. Who showed him what love was supposed to feel like. Who somehow made what should have been his worst days into his very best days. He would do all that was within his power to show you just how important you were.

His feelings toward you had never once been in question; he knew he was going to like you from your very first meeting. And every interaction thereafter only reinforced that idea. It had never occurred to him that not everyone would be immediately drawn in by you, that perhaps not every person you encountered would be instantly infatuated. By your heart of gold, your endlessly witty sense of humor, your unwavering commitment to that which you believed in.

Your drow heredity had never truly crossed his mind in any meaningful way, except perhaps briefly upon your introduction, a fleeting thought on the subject. Besides, your group had encountered several drow along your journey thus far, it was truly not so out of the ordinary.

To Gale, something as surface level as that was never at the forefront of his mind, particularly regarding you. He’d have loved you if you woke up tomorrow as an ogre, or a goblin, and he’s quite sure he would have fallen for you still if you’d been that way from the start.

In his mind, for anyone to strip you down and view you only as the stereotypes of your kin was inconceivable. He pitied those that would look upon you and make their judgements without ever truly knowing the complexities that lie beneath. So when exactly that happened, right before his eyes, he was floored.

It had been one long, exhausting day in an even longer and more exhausting journey. Everyone was at their wits end, tired and bruised and bloody. When suddenly, there was a beacon of hope in the darkness. Your party had stumbled into a small town, tucked away, easy to miss. It had a few shops, a tavern, but most importantly – an inn. With one final burst of energy, you all made your way inside. It was small, smelled a little off, and you wouldn’t have been surprised to see a rat scurrying around. But none of that mattered – you all would be able to sleep in a real bed.

You approached the counter, and Gale just watched you, as he usually did. He wasn’t particularly paying attention to what was being said, the combination of exhaustion and anticipation clouding his mind. Until the innkeeper's words cut through his trance.

“–but we wouldn’t much want a spiderling taking up residence here. Bad for business.” The man said with a sneer, looking you up and down as if he were challenging you to start something.

You blinked a few times, recovering from the surprise, before clearing your throat and pulling out your coin pouch.

“What if I pay extra?” You offered, placing the pouch on the counter with a metallic clink. You didn’t want to give this man your money, obviously. But this was nothing new to you, and damn, if you weren’t looking forward to a real bed to sleep in. Besides, it would be unfair to deprive your companions of a good night's rest. If it came to it, you’d set up camp on your own and let them stay here without you.

Suddenly, things seemed to register in Gale’s mind. The shock wore off, as the words cut through his trance and pulled him back to reality.

Before the innkeeper had a chance to respond, Gale was already in motion, not even giving his own rational mind time to react. He marched up to the counter and snatched the pouch away, pushing it back into your hands.

“Spiderling?” He shouted, slamming a hand on the counter. “‘Bad for Business?’ This is a person you’re talking about – talking to! A hero, no less!” You were sure Gale was about to grab the man by the collar with how he leaned in, eyes narrowed and towering over the much smaller man. “You’d better be awfully grateful she’s here to see this right now, otherwise I’d have a hell of a lot more for you than a few choice words.” He spat, straightening back up, though his aura was no less threatening.

The man stumbled back in his seat, spluttering and red in the face.

“You- you can’t speak to me that way! I have guards!” He stuttered out, pulling himself together and standing from his seat.

“I think,” Gale said calmly then, turning towards you with his hand still firmly in place on the counter. “You should let the lady decide how to proceed. She’ll be far more forgiving than myself.” His tone was even, though unmistakably threatening.

Gale took a breath before speaking, his voice much softer than it had been just a moment ago. “Do not give him any of your money, my love. He doesn’t deserve it. Besides, sleeping in the dirt is probably far more sanitary than this place.”

“I– It’s not– It’s okay, I don’t mind, you guys should stay here. I’m not–“ You tried to string the words together, but you were so caught off guard by the situation, you struggled to find the words.

Then, Astarion started to laugh, and the whole thing was starting to make you feel dizzy.

“My, Gale! What an outburst! I didn’t think you had it in you.” Astarion giggled, clasping his hands together as he turned to the innkeeper, a mischievous smile on his face that earned a deep sigh from you. “We could just kill him, and then we could stay here for free!” He suggested, with a little too much excitement. Whatever fight the man behind the counter had left in him seemed to go right out the door with Astarion’s friendly suggestion.

You furiously shook your head. “No, no one is killing anyone. It’s fine, you all can stay here and I can head back to camp. It’s really not a big deal – I’d prefer at least some of us get a good night's rest.” You desperately tried to diffuse the situation, feeling far too tired to end up in another fight with anyone.

“I’m not staying here without you.” Gale quickly cut in. “I’m not sure I’d stay here with you, even. There will be plenty of places, ones far better than this, when we get to Baldur’s Gate.” He took your hands in his, looking you in the eyes with that unwavering affection that his gaze always held.

“He’s right, soldier. No way in hells am I giving this guy a cent after that. I’d much rather save it for a place that doesn’t smell like the sewers.” Karlach shook her head, her face contorting with disgust to emphasize her point.

“Let’s go. This isn’t worth our time, much less our money.” Gale asked, and you paused for a moment, mind still racing. You definitely weren’t going to argue about your companions defending you, nor did you really have any interest in staying here yourself any longer. But that guilty feeling still twisted in your gut, until your eyes fell upon Gale’s concerned and adoring gaze, pushing away any remaining argument.

You offered him a small smile, nodding in concession.

“All right then. Off we go.” You agreed, intertwining your fingers with Gales.

“Ugh, you people never let me have any fun!” Astarion whined as you made your way to the exit, leaving the innkeeper in a state of shock and horror behind the counter.

“You’re more than welcome to stay, Astarion. We won’t stop you.” You offered, genuinely. You’d be neither surprised nor offended if he chose to stay behind after that, really expecting nothing less from the vampire.

“And undermine Gale’s grand display of chivalry? I’d never.” He gasped in mock offense, placing a hand over his heart. You just rolled your eyes, and continued on back to camp, fingers interlaced with Gale’s.

-

You sat silently on your bedroll, mindlessly rolling a rock beneath your boot as you gazed into the flickering flames of the fire before you. You replayed the day’s events over in your head, flickering between feeling immensely grateful for Gale’s defense on your behalf and simultaneously feeling incredibly embarrassed, and guilty.

Situations like that were unfortunately common for you, and you’d grown quite adept at brushing them off. There had been a few encounters similar since starting your journey, though most had been in your occasional solo excursions. Few people has been so bold as to make a comment surrounded by your companions, and even fewer under Gale’s protective eye.

Though you were not normally one to take things lying down like that, today had been different. You were too tired to care about any slight towards you, too desperate to sleep in a bed and have a real bath, and you were quite sure your companions felt similarly.

You couldn’t shake the guilty feeling knowing that your presence had been the barrier to that, worrying about what future situations might arise that you have no control over.

“Is there a mystery in those flames I’ve yet to uncover, or is there perhaps something else on your mind?” Gale’s voice suddenly pulled you from your thoughts, his comment on your thousand yard stare into the fire making you crack a smile.

“Maybe a bit of both?” You offered, trying to keep your tone lighthearted. You watched as he scanned your expression, attempting to uncover all the things you wouldn’t say out loud.

“May I?” He asked, gesturing towards the empty space beside you. You nodded, scooting over to give him more space. He sat down beside you, crossing his legs and looking ahead toward the fire just as you had been.

You both sat quietly for a moment, before Gale broke the silence once again.

“I do hope I didn’t embarrass you today.” He said quietly, voice just barely wavering. “You’ve been awfully quiet this evening, and I’d hate to find out I was the cause. I just… Couldn’t stand by and do nothing once I understood.” He shook his head, nervous smile creeping across his lips. “But perhaps I jumped the gun just a bit.”

Your heart twisted in your chest, feeling the uncertainty and nervousness radiating from him. Instantly, you reached out and took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. His head turned to look at you, eyes full of expectation.

You flashed a smile as your eyes met his, taking in his every detail.

”You could never embarrass me.” You said quietly, tracing your thumb along the back of his hand. “I just.. feel bad. That I was the reason we’re spending another night out in the woods. I-I know it’s not my fault, necessarily. But we could’ve been in an actual inn right now, in an actual bed if I wasn’t there.”

Gale let out a quiet laugh. “Perhaps, but I imagine we’d be sharing with the bedbugs and rats as well, so I’m not entirely sure we missed out on much, my dear.” He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. A smile spread across your face again.

He looked back to you, his expression suddenly far more serious than it had been a moment ago. He squeezed your hand, “I can’t believe he would say that to you. It’s a rather good thing you’re always so level-headed, because I may have left that inn a bloodbath had you not been there.” He shook his head, brows furrowed. “I’m truly at a loss for words, that someone would speak to you –to anyone– that way.”

It was your turn to squeeze his hand now, shrugging slightly. “It’s okay. It’s not so abnormal. I understand that people have… preconceived notions, however misguided.”

He shook his head again, cutting in quickly. “It’s not okay! It’s quite the opposite, actually. That anyone would-would… Reduce you to that!” His words were quick and flustered, his anger clearly bubbling just under the surface. “You’re so… Great. I just… cannot wrap my head around anyone being unable to see that.”

You smiled at him, heart twisting in your chest and cheeks flushing at his very genuine display of anger on your behalf, the way his normally polished words seemed to slip away from him in his frustration.

You reached out a hand to cup his face, running your thumb along his cheekbone, watching his tense expression melt away beneath your touch.

“I will never quite understand what exactly I did to deserve you.” You said quietly, holding his gaze and enjoying the warmth of his skin against your cool fingers. “And I am immensely grateful for your immediate defense of my honor.” You said with a cheeky smile. “Although, perhaps we should refrain from killing mostly-innocent civilians.”

He cracked a small smile, leaning into your touch. “That man is anything but innocent.” He replied, a touch of sharpness in his tone. “But I concede. I will reel in my temper should a similar situation arise in the future. Though my inner thoughts will remain, uh, less than polite.”

“Ah, you’re truly my knight in shining armor. I’d be doomed without you.” You teased, before pulling his face towards you and pressing your lips against his.

[quarterqueens]

what if we fucked on the olympic anti-sex beds haha: a lawlight fic

this is no longer even slightly timely BUT do you guys want to read a fic about lawlight fucking on those olympic anti-sex beds anyway. yes the anti-sex qualities of those beds were disproven but it's sexier if they weren't. au where cardboard can't be strong.

The room is dark, the light that falls through the closed curtains moonlight soft as L lays Light down on the bed. He has locked the door and it’s only the two of them — L who belongs in this room and Light who doesn’t, Light who is crossing into enemy territory.

L is careful with him. He presses one hand against his shoulder, to keep him still, firm but gentle, more gentle than Light has ever been touched before, then crawls on top of him and leans down and kisses him chaste. 

He doesn’t move like a man who is careful during sex; there is something about the deliberateness of his movements that speaks to a familiarity with roughness. It’s the bed, Light is pretty sure, which is cardboard and flimsy, not designed for two. 

He doesn’t mind. This is not usually what he likes, either, but now he feels something close to reverence; in other circumstances he might be embarrassed by this but now he is not. Now this care is practical, useful, the only sensible route to take. 

L lowers his groin to Light’s and Light lets out a long groan, a noise that’s barely voluntary. L leans down again and kisses him into silence. “Careful,” he says, voice low, not quite a whisper. “We mustn’t be heard.”

Light shuts his eyes. He can smell L around him, like cederwood and sage and a body that has been in motion; a clean scent, not unpleasant. L’s body is so hot and he can feel it descending towards him before L presses his lips to his throat and kisses a line down it, along his artery, into the dip of his throat. 

Light whines. He twists beneath L’s hips and L grinds against him, slow. 

He moves like he already knows Light’s body. And in a way he has — he has seen Light, surely, dancing across the piste, his sword on hand; he must have thought of how best to defeat him. Light has thought about the same. And so it’s only natural that each touch sends heat swirling through Light, sends electric sparks all through him, that it all seems to curl towards the core of himself.

Light has had lovers before, and many of them knew just what to, but this feels different; it feels like the cumulation of a conversation they’ve already had. 

L trails a hand towards Light buckle, a question more than a demand, and Light catches it. He opens his eyes to find L watching him, cautious, waiting. Some men look impatient when stopped in this way but only looks like he’s waiting to be told how to proceed. 

“Just this,” Light says. “Just — this is good.” 

“Alright,” L says, his voice quiet. He sounds like he wants to know more — not in the wheedling way some people get, but because he seems interested in Light. But now isn’t the time and he must know this because instead he leans down again and kisses Light’s collarbone and Light lifts his hips to meet L’s, clothed but warm nonetheless, the pressure aching but wonderful. 

It has been a long time since he had sex that did not feel desperate, sex that felt languid, like it could easily be had again and more; their time here is limited and he knows this but he is also sure, without asking, that they can find their way together again, if needs be. This was not a chance meeting; it was meant, their stars tangled together. He’s sure of it because he’s never before met someone like L — L isn’t so special, or at least he isn’t here, but he feels suited to Light, his second half; meeting him had felt like finally slipping a sword into its sheath, like discovering the place where all his sharp edges belonged, where they could not hurt, where they were wanted. 

And so there’s no need to rush. He does not want to rush. He does not want to hurtle through this the way he always does, as if he had to race to discover an unfortunate ending; instead he lies back and allows L to kiss him warm beneath the throat, cants his hips into L’s, and allows his mind to fall quiet. 

[gaybananabread]

☾༺Just a Bit Longer༻☽

~So I’ve been brainrotting over RW&RB for a solid month now. The goblins need a walk, and I cannot productivity until they get one. I love these two’s dynamic; they’re just so silly. Not my best work, but writer’s block be damned; I needed to post something this week. This is completely self-indulgent, but if it’s your thing, I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Alex

Ler: Henry

Summary: Alex is overworking himself, going late into the night and working hours without breaks. Sick of his lover’s dreadful work-life management, Henry takes it upon himself to get Alex to sleep.

Warnings: mild Red, White & Royal Blue spoilers! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Life for Alex Claremont-Diaz was the best it had ever been. Henry came over almost daily from his Brownstone, and he finally felt like he had a definite idea of where his life was headed. The only downside: he was still in school.

The NYU Law course was a bit more rigorous than he’d expected, but it was definitely what he wanted. Sure, that meant long, painful hours of reviewing for extremely difficult exams, discovering that tort is a real word, and trying to figure out a system for coursework that didn’t make his brain want to explode.

His sleep schedule was already shit, so he didn’t think any of it would be a problem. If he just pulled a few all-nighters and pumped out some late-night essays, he’d be fine. What he didn’t think about, however, was how Henry would take it.

Alex was working late on another essay, running off of coffee and pure determination. He hadn’t meant to put it off, but with the three exams he’d had that week, his mind was a scattered mess.

Henry had put up with it for most of the night, but as two AM rolled around, his understanding had run dry, replaced by concern.

Knocking the “shave and a haircut” pattern on his lover’s door, Henry entered the room. He was immediately greeted with the strong smell of coffee and desperation.

There sat his boyfriend, hunched over a computer with a half-eaten ham sandwich (he couldn’t handle turkey anymore) by his side. The blonde couldn’t help the sad sigh that escaped him.

Alex looked up, his glasses nearly all the way down on his nose. It was unfairly cute, though Henry shoved that feeling down for the moment.

“Uh…hey, Hen. Not done yet; gimme, like, another half-hour.” Alex’s gaze was back on his computer in seconds.

Henry rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache brew. For once, why couldn’t Alex just use common sense?

“Alex, darling. It’s two in the morning. You need to sleep.”

Alex scoffed, not stopping for even a second. “Says you. You stay up later than I do most of the time.” While that wasn’t untrue, Henry’s problems were because of insomnia. Alex was just a stubborn asshole.

“Look, I’m going to be brutally honest here. You look terrible, you seem exhausted, and the bags under your eyes could fit the entirety of the Royal Wardrobe. Go. To. Sleep.”

Henry laid things out bluntly, crossing his arms. It was meant to leave little room for negotiation, but defying Henry’s expectations was Alex’s special talent.

“This is due at eight AM…uh, today. I’ve only got six hours to finish this thing, but I’m almost done. I promise, just a bit longer.” This would have been more comforting if Alex hadn’t already said that three times.

“Alex, please. If you sleep now, I’ll wake you up at six, and we’ll work on it together. It hurts to see you like this, dear.” He used pet names, trying to sway Alex to listen. It was a last-ditch effort; if he still refused, Henry didn’t have much of a plan left. Sure enough, he did.

“It’s fine, Henry. I’m all good, just a little spacy. I promise, the moment I’m done, I’ll eat your face. Okay, baby?” Alex flipped the other man’s strategy back on him, hoping to fully bury the concern. He was fine: end of story.

For Henry, though, the tale was just beginning. He racked his brain, searching for anything to help him get Alex to cooperate. He could only remember one time anyone was successful.

Alex had invited him to the White House for June’s birthday party. As the night dragged on, everyone but Alex was drunk and exhausted. To tire him out, June had employed some rather…unconventional methods.

Methods that would be extremely useful to him at that moment.

Casually approaching his boyfriend, Henry put a hand on the laptop. Then, after making sure the work was saved, he closed it. He pointedly ignored Alex’s scoff and protests, grabbing his chin and pulling him in for a kiss. Alex still squirmed, though a smile was breaking out on his face.

That was all Henry needed to continue. He gripped Alex under his thighs, lifting the man up and plopping him down on his nearby bed.

A surprised sound left him, his cheeks gaining a nearly imperceptible red hue. He was expecting some push-back from Henry, but nothing this active.

“Just couldn’t wait for me, could you~?” Alex weteased, starting to sit up on the bed. Henry was quick to stop that, grabbing Alex’s arms and pinning them above his head.

Before his lover could make another joke, Henry tapped a few fingers on his side. That shut him up, if only for a second.

“Henry, I swear to fucking god, if you try anything-” He was cut off when Henry squeezed his side, resulting in an indignant squeak.

“Sorry, dear, but I’m afraid I already have~” With that, Henry clawed his fingers into Alex’s stomach, straddling him.

The tired man tried to bite his lip, but the coffee wasn’t quite enough to give him that energy. A few giggles slipped out, quickly followed by tiny curses.

“What’s the matter, Alex? Something bothering you?” Henry chuckled, leaning down further to try and hold him still.

Kicking and squirming, Alex tried anything to get away from the evil fingers. He was tired, though; his brain was moving at half-speed and felt like it was running through soup.

“Gehehet ohoff me, youhuhu prihick!” Henry has decided to move up to his ribs, scritching and scratching between each bone.

Even on a good day, it’d be hard for Alex to get out from under him. With no sleep, coffee fumes and pure spite, he had no chance.

“Why on Earth would I do that? I’m quite comfortable here. Besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself, if that blush is any indication,” Henry taunted, jutting his chin out. He didn’t really need to, but it was a sure-fire way to rile Alex.

“Fuhuhuck off! Hehenry, I swehehear- quihit!” Alex tried to bury his face in his shoulder, though he only drew attention to a new target. Henry leaned down, blowing a raspberry on his boyfriend’s neck. Alex would rather die than repeat the squeal that left him.

“Wow, Alex. Perhaps the Barbara Streisand accusation wasn't so far off,” he teased, his voice about as smug than Alex had ever heard it.

The typically witty man was in giggly shambles, trying his best not to sound like a child. He wasn’t very successful.

“SHUHUhut uhup, youhu douche!!” Laughing like a toddler, Alex was still pumping out insults. Henry was about to put a stop to that. Going for the kill, he hooked his thumbs into Alex's hip divots, kneading and squeezing the area.

That seemed to work quite well.

“GAH- HEHENRY! You- YAHAHA! FAHAHACK!” The law student lost his shit, practically cackling under his boyfriend.

Alex arched his back off the bed, only bucking into the ticklish feeling. There was no room in his mind for witt; the best he could do was “fuck fuck fuck it tickles oh my god-”

Hearts practically formed in Henry’s eyes at the adorably hysteric reaction. Still, as cute as it was, he had a mission.

“This all ends the moment you agree to rest. Or…would you like me to continue? I bet I could just tickle you senseless all night. You’d surely be exhausted then, wouldn’t you?”

Alex couldn’t even get a word out, shaking his head as he laughed. His curls went wild, getting in his eyes and puffing up. Henry wanted to brush it from his eyes, but he had to keep his priorities in order. There would be time for fawning over him later.

“HEHENRY! PLEHE- snrk” It took a solid minute, but Alex’s resolve was weakening. He was already tired beforehand, and laughing his ass off wasn’t helping. The squirming had died down almost completely, snorts slipping into the lax cackles.

While it wasn’t an agreement, the Prince could tell that his lover would be out in seconds. Henry stopped, switching to gentle traces down his sides. The first son tried to calm down, a steady stream of giggles pouring from his lips.

“H-hoholy shihihit… Thahat was evil.” He tried taking some deep breaths, rubbing his cheeks. Alex hadn’t laughed that hard in a while. He was close to just passing out right there, pure exhaustion hitting him like a freight train.

“Possibly. You deserved it, though.” Henry leaned down, gently kissing his curved lips. This sight was one of his new favorites: Alex, his toned skin flushed, practically a puddle of giggles beneath him.

Alex flipped him the bird before melting into the kiss. He weakly pulled his boyfriend down, snuggling against him. He’d all but forgotten about his essay, eyes closed the moment he laid still; the poor guy was wiped. It wasn’t terrible by any means, but all his energy was gone.

Carefully grabbing his phone, Henry set an alarm for six AM.

They’d finish that research paper; he was certain of that. With a bit of sleep, Alex would be a writing machine. True, the slightly rushed grammar would be atrocious, but that’s what Henry was there for. Pulling the sheets up over them both, Henry breathed a happy sigh.

“Good night, love.”

[maya-matlin]

it's sort of ironic that lucas and brooke had more in common later in life then him and peyton they had their own separate goals dreams and wanted a family their relationship matured over time where his and peyton stayed stagnant in a superficial happy fake bubble as soon as realty and communication needed to happen there was always issues nether character could grow together and honestly I don't see them endgame in the long run lucas actions showed he was in awe and had more respect for brooke as a separate person where as peyton he saw as a fantasy not who she really was that's why he just expected her to just want to jump and marry without any depth or conversations about where their relationship is not just some we are meant to be nonsense or the pressure of what other people perceived their relationship everyone constantly went on about him wanting peyton and they are meant to be I think that's just because they have to justify why he and peyton hurt other people and themselves together they had to be different people then who they was around each other

Yeah, the way Lucas and Peyton's relationship developed did not work for me at all. So much of it revolved around LP having to be together in the end to come full circle from the pilot or the fact Lucas repeatedly saved Peyton. Their goals didn't necessarily align unless you consider that Peyton wanted Lucas to be happy, and Lucas wanted the same thing. They both put his wants and needs ahead of Peyton's. Brooke at least felt like a person who independently of Lucas wanted similar things while also going about them differently. Peyton was just.. extremely desperate for Lucas during seasons 4 and 5. Sure, she also wanted to run a record label and discover new musicians, but it honestly came across like Peyton was extremely fixated on Lucas and had it in her head that she could only achieve happiness if he married her. So because she couldn't afford to have Lucas walk away again, she literally jumped at a mediocre proposal without the awareness that she was one of three potential wives. And like, on Lucas's end, his dream didn't necessarily include Peyton. He had a desire to start a family and post Brucas 2.0, the woman in his life didn't need to be a specific person. She just had to be willing to say yes when he needed her to say yes. I truly feel like a part of Lucas settled in a big way after losing Brooke. As for the communication problems, I agree. Nothing was resolved because Lucas had a lot he wasn't willing to voice and things he absolutely refused to hold himself accountable for. Unfortunately, Peyton was not going to be the person who fought Lucas on this. The narrative during season 5 was that Peyton telling Lucas she wasn't ready for marriage at nineteen years old forced him to break up with her and then apparently hide his heart for years after that because the pain was that severe. Bullshit, but whatever. In season 5, Lucas doesn't seem like he's suffering without Peyton. He's literally fine and happy to marry Lindsey, and then again when he makes Brooke a priority and chooses to be her emotional support system with Angie. Like, Lucas holds a grudge against Peyton and keeps her at a distance, but in my opinion the writing was telling us through multiple other characters rather than showing that Lucas still loved Peyton and that a Lucas/Peyton endgame was inevitable. Lucas essentially bumbles his way to "realizing" that he should marry Peyton after all, and I'm sure the fact only she would have jumped at that dead eyed airport proposal had nothing to do with it.

Needless to say, I also think divorce is probably an inevitability with them. Once you peel back the idea of how epic the relationship is supposed to be and both of their separate issues, there isn't a lot there. At first, I'm sure they were blissfully happy because they finally got their dreams. But after that, day to day, I don't think happily ever after is going to feel as satisfying as they'd hoped. I choose to believe Peyton is eventually going to realize how much she compromised for Lucas and (sadly) I get the feeling Lucas will just end up cheating again because he can't admit out loud that he's not happy. And if he can cheat on his serious girlfriend of three years, he's going to cheat on Peyton too now that she's no longer the forbidden, easy option. I hate thinking so lowly of Lucas, but Lucas towards the end of his time on the show was a selfish guy who lost any bit of character growth he'd had during the high school years. Until he manages to work through his own shit, things won't get better.

Needless to say, I agree 100% about Brooke. It sounds ridiculous considering his messy history of breaking her heart back in high school, but during seasons 2 and 3 I truly think Lucas had good intentions and loved and wanted Brooke over Peyton. Lucas fought for Brooke and put himself completely out there in a way that he pretty much never does with Peyton past season 1. Lucas loved Brooke's independence. He loved her bravery and her soft side. There were times when he underestimated how much she needed his emotional support because unlike his relationship with Peyton, it wasn't so reliant on Lucas rescuing her. But we see by the end of season 5 that Lucas has become more in tune with Brooke's emotions and once again found a way to be her friend without any agenda much like during season 2. Whenever I try to imagine Lucas and Brooke in a similar position as Lucas and Peyton during season 5 including the missing years, I literally can't. I don't believe that Lucas would have ever held a years long grudge against Brooke for rejecting his proposal or that Brooke would have come back to him in such a way where she was handing over all of the power in their relationship. Why? Because Lucas and Brooke were so much more than an idea of how life was supposed to play out or something the people in their lives spoke of with such reverence than never quite lived up to expectations. It sounds simple because it really is. Lucas and Brooke were in love, and that was that. At its best, their love inspired some of the best in each other. They were truly equals with both similarities and differences. Plus, the passion. Even during season 5 where he's supposed to be harboring this deep love for Peyton, there are still moments with Brooke that outshine them and make zero sense if there aren't still romantic feelings on Lucas's end

Or this entire scene

I don't know that any of this reply had a point or even a coherent idea, but all I can say is that Lucas and Peyton being endgame hurt both characters. Peyton becomes weaker. Lucas is more selfish. It celebrates this idea that everything that happened was worth it because they got a happy ending, even though they to had to crush Brooke, Jake, Lindsey and Julian in the process. The relationship isn't exciting. The chemistry is severely lacking during most seasons. The entire Lucas/Peyton relationship is endlessly frustrating to watch because I like both Lucas and Peyton separately and time and time again, I revisit this show and watch them ruin their best chances of true happiness with other people all because of Lucas's savior complex and nostalgia for the pilot.

[columbusfirefighterdiaz]

Flash Forward - 3 Years

If Eddie was honest with himself, which he very rarely is, he didn't think Shannon would stick around as long as she actually did. He did think she would at least stay around to be in Christopher's life, but after six months the only contact they received from her was a notice of a dissolution of claim. Even though Eddie knew it was over and had no desire to fight the ending of the claim, he had yet to actually tell anyone, other than abuela and tia, that he was officially a single dad. The only reason that he even told them was because he knew that he would need their help trying to take care of Christopher.

There was a long list of excuses Eddie was using to keep everyone in the dark, but the biggest one is that he didn't want people to know just how big of a failure he actually was. Obviously the hardest one to keep this new development from was Buck. Luckily for him though, his best friend had been busy with his own personal life, so they hadn't been hanging out outside of work very often. This also meant that Christopher and Buck hadn't seen each other all the much which also helped out in Eddie's favor. He knew Chris wouldn't have been able to keep his secret as well as Eddie had been, so the limited contact between the two of them was for the best, even though he hated that his two favorite people in the whole world didn't get to see each other.

The fact that Eddie has considered Buck one of his favorite people for the past three years and not Shannon was pretty much the last nail in the coffin for his claim. After Shannon left, Eddie had done a lot of thinking about his life and his relationships and finally came to the realization that he was gay. Once he finally admitted that fact, it seemed like all the pieces just fell into place and everything made sense. With his lack of sexual attraction to Shannon and his extreme attraction to one of his coworkers, Eddie should have figured it out sooner, and yes a part of him always knew he was gay, so it was mainly just him finally admitting it to himself. And so far, it was only to himself that he had admitting it to. He wasn't ashamed or anything about the fact that he was gay, but bring it up to other people would be an easy gateway into admitting that his claim was over.

Now that he had plenty of alone time and embraced his sexuality, Eddie had finally discovered his sex drive. Without Shannon around, he was able to explore all kinds of porn and even bought himself a few new toys. Eddie never had a strong need for sex in the past, but now that he knew it was mainly due to who his partner was, he was now able to lose himself in pleasure. However, as much as he enjoyed pleasuring himself, he wanted to experience sex with another man. Eddie thought about downloading Grindr or another hook up app, but there was no way he would allow random guys to come to his house, and he wasn't comfortable meeting strangers in strange places either. Plus, there was always the chance of meeting running across someone he knew which was something he was definitely trying to avoid.

To solve this issue, Eddie decided to join an exclusive sex club. Just even thinking about joining was so far out of pocket for Eddie that his nerves almost stopped him from completing his application. However, his excitement and desire quickly usurped his nervousness, so he eventually submitted his information. After he was accepted, it took him a while to find a good time to actually go. Finally a night came around where Chris had a sleep over with Denny at Hen and Karen's and he had the next 48 hours off. It happened to coincide with a night that Eddie found himself extremely pent up, which was probably due to having to spend several hours in very tight quarters with Buck during an intensive rescue.

He had always been a confident person, but walking into the club for the first time was a whole new experience for Eddie. Even though he tried to hide it as best he could, he was sure all the other club patrons could tell he was an inexperienced newbie, but that didn't stop him from leaving. Instead, he used it as motivation to move himself further into the club and check out the other people there. The other thing that Eddie recently discovered about himself was that he was way more drawn to his submissive side than he once thought, so his eyes were quickly drawn to a handsome man that was clearly a dominant that was sitting alone on a couch. Eddie tried very hard to ignore the fact that the man bore a striking resemblance to Buck as he made eye contact with the other man.

After some additional non-verbal communication between the two of them, Eddie finally made his way over to the couch. There was no need for formal introductions since Eddie had no desire to actually get to know this man, so once he was close enough, the man reached out and wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist and pulled him closer. Eddie used the invitation to crawl onto the couch, straddled the other man, and leaned in to kiss him. After years of only kissing Shannon, the feeling of the man's lips on his own was electric, and Eddie quickly deepened the kiss.

However, he didn't come here just for kissing, so after a while, Eddie scooted off this other man's lap and knelt down on the floor. While he should be self-conscious of having other people being able to watch him, it didn't stop Eddie from reaching up and undoing the other man's pants. Eddie reached in and pulled the other man's very nice cock out and licked his lips at the sight of it. He could feel multiple eyes on him, but instead of feeling embarrassed, it just turned him on even more, so Eddie leaned in, licked his way up the other man's cock, and wrapped his lips around the tip. He took a few moments to few moments to savor the taste and feel of the other man's cock in his mouth before setting a steady pace of bobbing his head. As he was sucking the other man off, Eddie quickly find another personal discovery. Along with being gay and more submissive than he knew, he also found out that he loved sucking cock.

[justahumblememefarmer]

Is Pokémon intuitive to play? An Experiment

My friend was over recently and we were talking about how he'd hardly played any video games. I've been playing many games for so many years that the story structure and controls feel pretty intuitive to me. Particularly with Pokémon. So we agreed to an experiment for him to play and see how he fares without the intuition and experience that I rely on.

I had him play Shining Pearl to start off with. The other Switch Pokémon games have a lot of gimmicks, more complicated controls, and overworld encounters that you have to react quickly to. Shining Pearl is almost 1:1 with the DS game, with a pretty linear story and plenty of tutorials.

If he had any questions, I would answer them, but other than that he pretty much figured everything out himself

The only time I stepped in without asking was when he was choosing a starter to make sure he didn't choose one without looking at all 3 options

The first thing that he had an issue with was with the ledges. He discovered that he could not cross them when running into them. After obtaining his starter and being able to get to the other side of the first ledge he assumed he would still be unable to cross. He did not talk to the NPC that tells you that you can. He eventually discovered you could cross a ledge by accident.

He couldn’t figure out how to get to Sandgem Town at first (didn’t see the grass at the top and was frustrated by the ledge)

The Potions given to him were the first healing mechanic introduced, so while he grinded in the grass before Sandgem town, he would just use Potions whenever his health got low.

It wasn’t until he got to Jubilife that he started exploring more, going into every building and talking to every person

Using the fishing rod he went to the bag every single time to select it, but after three tries with no bites he gave up

He asked me during the first rival battle how to give his Pokémon “The Claw”. I explained that he would have to give the Quick Claw he received to his Pokémon before the battle began

After a while he asked me how to tell what type a Pokémon is (couldn’t tell whether Kricketot was a Fire type), so I told him he could look it up in the Pokedex

The first item he found on the ground was a potion, so upon seeing a second, he said “Oh another potion!”

He did not try catching wild Pokémon for a while. His first trainer battle he tried catching the opponents Starly, and I learned that there’s a special animation where the Pokeball bounces off and the words “don’t be a thief” pop up. He didn’t try to catch a Pokémon until after his first Rival fight (a Starly)

His next 4 encounters were Starly, which frustrated him because he wanted to catch new ones. He finally found a Shinx, which he killed

Barry mentioned Oreburgh having a Gym, which meant nothing to my friend

When he reached the 4-move limit with Chimchar he decided to replace Leer with Power-Up Punch (who really needs status moves?)

While he has caught two Pokémon (Starly and Shinx) he has not yet changed the order of his party, nor switched it out in battle as his Chimchar hasn’t fainted. He just keeps using potions on it in battle if it’s health gets too low (although it got paralyzed and he has been very frustrated by those effects)

He finally started switching out his overpowered Chimchar in battle, but hasn’t found out how to change the order of his party yet

He asked if he caught a second Shinx would it be seperate from the one he caught or add to it

“I think I saw one of those yellow floaty things, I think it’s called a Charmander” I was very confused about what he meant, but in remembering the 10 Pokémon he’s seen, I think he meant Abra

He’s decided to go train on the route between Sandgem Town and Jubilife City with it’s level 2 and 3 Pokémon, but is also complaining that he wants to catch new ones he hasn’t seen yet

He just discovered the guidebook in his key items section and is looking up how to Fish

He’s just gotten the Hidden Machine app and is very intrigued by what it means

lol I forgot that before you can fight Roark, you have to find him at the mine. He is very confused as to where the mine is, and is exploring the tunnel between Jubilife and Oreburgh

Chimchar evolved into Monferno in Oreburgh mine right after meeting Roark. He described it as “A baboon, but it’s also kind of like one of those pilots with the scarves.”

He entered the gym for the first time and then (accidentally) walked right back out

He hasn’t seemed to notice (or said anything) that the attack moves of his Pokémon have an effectiveness rating next to them. The idea of type matchups have not fully sunk in yet

While fighting Roark he tried to switch out a Pokémon and said “I’m looking for one of those Water/Grass Pokémon thingies the guy recommended” looking at his team of Monferno, Starly, Shinx, and Geodude

He doesn’t think to be constantly healing his Pokémon. Entered the gym with Monferno slightly damaged, fought the two gym trainers and approached Roark with Monferno at half health

So far every new move a Pokémon learns he has not looked at what the new move does AT ALL, just seems to blindly pick a move to replace, although most of the time it’s been a status move that he erases

After beating Roark he decided to look for the other 7 gym leaders, who he assumed would also be in the same town

Things he did before trying to catch a wild Pokémon

Been reminded by Dawn to catch Pokémon

Gone to the trainers school

Commented that multiple trainers were “cheating” by using 2 or more Pokémon

Won his first rival fight against Barry (his Piplup used NO water moves and got burned. I was hoping fainting would cause him to try and catch more)

Beat every trainer before the Oreburgh Tunnel

I think he may end up continuing playing the next time he’s over. Every Pokémon is brand new to him. We have hardly touched upon the plot yet. No hints of Team Galactic yet.

[cosmicjoke]

if you could save any character in AOT from dying, who would you save? not in terms of changing the plot or anything like that, but because you really like the character

That's a really hard question to answer, haha. There's so many tragic deaths in AoT, and an argument could be made about why every character that died should have lived.

I think maybe the most tragic death, to me anyway, was Sasha's, because she didn't choose to die. Hange and Erwin, as heartbreaking as their deaths were, at least had some agency in it. They chose the path that lead to each of their deaths, or were otherwise accepting of their deaths. But with Sasha, she didn't choose to die, or accept it. She was shot while believing she was going home and in a celebratory mood, even, happy that she had made it to the end of the mission with all her friends.

Of course, with Erwin, you wish he could have gotten to discover the truth. But I always think, if Erwin HAD lived to see what was in Eren's basement, while he might have initially been happy at finally having proof that his father had been right, it ultimately would have left him feeling disappointed and bereft, and I think his feelings of guilt would only have intensified. To realize he'd charged ahead so relentlessly, only to find out that the world beyond the walls hated them and wanted them all dead. That indeed the discovery of the truth didn't improve their position, but only made it worse. I don't know if Erwin would have been able to deal with the knowledge that he'd sent all those soldiers to their deaths, under the belief they were fighting to free humanity, only to exchange their original struggle for any even greater one. So, in the end, I think it was better for Erwin to die without ever knowing the truth. I think it only would have further deteriorated his mental state. There was a genuine relief in Erwin when Levi told him to give up on his dream and die. He was happy to be relieved of making the decision himself, happy to be told what to do, happy that Levi had freed him from the burden of being torn between his dream and duty, and especially the guilt he felt at wanting to pursue his dream. If the decision had been left up to Erwin, and he'd chosen to live to see what was in Eren's basement, I think it would have tormented him for the rest of his life. Levi allowed him to die a good leader, and that was as good an ending for Erwin as there could be.

And then of course Hange's death was also incredibly tragic, and the realization that she won't ever get to experience any more of the world, when she was such a genuinely curious person, is heartbreaking. But there's also an element of guilt in Hange's decision to go against the wall Titans. This feeling that she was failing to live up to her role as Commander, that she was responsible for leading them to where they were, and needing to take responsibility for it in order to ease her guilt. Of course, Hange wasn't actually responsible. Eren was. He lied to Hange when he accused her of forcing him to do what he'd done because of her failure to come up with a better plan, and that exacerbated Hange's sense of guilt, which in itself is a huge tragedy. Maybe Hange wouldn't have felt so compelled to go to her death if Eren hadn't said what he did to her. But either way, I think Hange felt she needed to sacrifice herself in order to fulfill her role as Commander. It's why Levi's so distraught at her language before she makes her decision, because it's the same sort of language Erwin was using. This idea of needing to fulfill ones "duty" by sacrificing ones self. Levi knew in that moment what Hange was planning. He knew she meant to die.

Anyway, yeah, I guess this isn't really an answer to your question. I wish all three of them could have lived. I wish Petra and Marco and all of Levi's OG squad could have lived, and Mike, etc... I also thought Nile Dok's death was really sad.

But I guess if I had to choose one character who got to live out of those who died, it would probably be Sasha, just because, again, there was no agency in her death.

[octoagentmiles]

Try list any Octo-Agents and think of an Episode you Think give them a Shining Moment

W O O F this took a while– I was thinking long and hard about this because there are SO MANY good moments and episodes 😅, and so many agents– it was difficult, but I’m happy with my answers 👀

Ranger Marsh’s Shine Episode is definitely The Monitor Lizards. I LOVE this episode, it’s one of my favourites in the whole series so far—not just because of the events in it, but as a concept. I LOVE the callback to the Great Swamp Search!! I watched the 2nd season blind, and seeing all these familiar faces was SUCH a fun surprise. It’s good for Ranger Marsh as a character, because it actually shows him doing his job as a Ranger, not as an Octo-Agent. It also reinforces the fact that he truly cares for and is friends with these creatures, even if they are invasive, and that he's willing to travel to check in on them. This is another episode that also proves (to me) that the writers know they’re dealing with an older audience for the show, and are more likely to delve into solid lore and continuity. This episode makes me really hopeful for more of that.

Natquik’s Shine Episode, WITHOUT QUESTION, is The Red Fox. Honestly I feel like I don’t need to explain why, but I will because I like talking ✨: Natquik is my favourite Octo-Agent, but overall we haven’t actually gotten that many episodes dedicated to him yet. The Red Fox gives us a close and personal look into what Natquik is like by himself (I love episodes where characters are alone 👀), how he deals with problems (by ignoring them until they get worse—which is interesting... *stares at Barnacles*...), and even hints toward his family, by showing us his family portraits, and leaving us wondering, “Where are they?” – There are so many moments I love in this episode, from when he first discovers the kits, decides to help them stay warm, rushes to protect Barnacles, to his bittersweet goodbye at the end. It’s all so perfect.

Tracker absolutely shines in The Missing Lake. Honestly, he shines a LOT in Above and Beyond, considering he never got his own episode in the main series, and was only in Operation Deep Freeze for two scenes. AnB has been really good to Tracker, and I’m so grateful they decided to make him an Agent. The Missing Lake sticks out to me the most, because for the most part he is by himself (and I’ve already mentioned my love for that <3), and unlike all his other episodes, we get to really see him be responsible and use his Polar Scout skills in action. He’s often portrayed as a follower, who just goes along with whatever he's told to do, but he takes charge twice in this episode: when he offers to help Rowan, and when he stays behind to save Buck. Love that for him.

Calico Jack. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Calico Jack....... I could talk forever about this funky old cat man. He doesn’t just shine, he GLOWS in every episode he’s in—but alas, for the sake of this post I will be focusing on The Harlequin Duck. I love the showing of his gentle parental instincts in this episode, and his singing; since we know he canonically has a theme song, that I headcanon he wrote himself. I think far too much, and often, about how he legit panicked when he realized the egg was missing. How his first instinct was to hide that fact from Captain Barnacles. He was terrified, having a full blown panic attack on screen. He apologizes to the mother duck with such genuine solace, and promises to get it back “On [his] honour as a pirate!” ...Which is extremely significant to me, considering Kwazii was the first character to EVER say the phrase: “On me honour as an Octonaut!” in The Flying Fish after Inkling’s book was lost – and of course as a final touch, I adore seeing him work with Pete to get the egg back. The way he tosses the egg in the air, fully trusting that Pete will catch it... they’re so in sync, just as pirate and parrot are meant to be ;)

Paani... I feel like there’s so much more to him than what we’ve seen so far, it almost feels unfair to assign him a “Shine Episode”. So, instead of highlighting a single episode, I’ll quickly talk about three that stick out (PS: you might sense a theme 🤣):

The Barnacle Geese - Uncle Paani. I like the “I’ll be my own uncle” joke, and the Edgar Allen Poe reference. I think Paani’s determination to help the chick (who doesn’t seem to want help) is nice to watch, and helps to prove his worthiness as an Agent—which is always fun considering his hesitance when Barnacles tried to recruit him in S1E1. In a way, this episode also makes Paani seem more like Barnacles. See my old post analyzing the show’s intro. (*Stares at the episode title* 👁️👁️)

The Arabian Camels - Take a shot of cocoa every time I mention my love for episodes where characters are forced to be by themselves. This one is especially interesting to me though, because we know that Paani was alone, for a very long time, before he met the Octonauts. He has no trouble working and getting by alone, and we get to see him exhibiting that, while being out of his element (a dry desert) at the same time; and that’s really cool.

The Lonely Frog - ...Y’know how they constantly make the Octonauts/Agents meet creatures with similar issues to them? Yeah. *Stares at the episode title.* *Stares at the end scene where he says “Kinda like when I met you guys!” before obnoxiously jumping into the lake, in response to Shellington+Peso saying “They never even knew each other existed before! [...] and now it’s like they’ve known each other all their lives!”* *STARES MORE AT THE EPISODE TITLE,,* *wonders how long Paani was actually alone before becoming an Agent...*

Pinto, where art thou? He wasn’t in S2 at all, which was a bit disappointing since we just saw him get an Octowatch in S1. I would’ve expected him to be pressing that button every chance he got, giving us a “Penguin who cried Octoalert” episode. But anyway,, The Curious Penguin is the PERFECT episode for Pinto. It shows his personality really well, and I love how his distractions and the things he learns and discovers help him to save the day in the end. I think Pinto (just like Kwazii) is a good portrayal of ADHD, and how he just needs to be in the right environment to succeed. Each time Pinto messes up or loses focus, isn’t because he was left alone and couldn’t be trusted—it’s because he was left alone and understimulated. So when he’s thrown into a sudden high-stakes situation, all of his focus hones in on the moment, and he’s able to save Dashi and Paani by himself.

AND, because you didn’t say it had to be an Above and Beyond moment, I want to throw some love at The Oarfish episode from the main series. In this episode, Pinto no longer views Peso as “less” than an Octonaut, and is so excited to watch him do his job—it’s really cute!! His impulsivity is once again a positive thing—granted, it seems to annoy Peso a little, but when you think about it he kinda saved the day by being impulsive. He sounded the Octoalert without permission, which let the captain know to come back before their radio signal cut out, and by being unafraid of the “monster” and swimming outside, he was able to discover what the problem was so that Peso could help. He did good.

Pearl.... I love Pearl a lot, but I can’t think of one specific episode that comes to mind for her. I love The Pupfish because it introduces Peri to AnB, and I love how he teaches her how to tie a knot, so she can save the algae (and Glen). I like The Bison episode because it’s interesting watching her not doing something with algae for once, and The Pink Glacier because her and Kwazii’s dynamic was something I didn’t know I needed, but now I want more of (/p).

Ryla. Possibly controversial opinion: I liked Ryla in The Caves of Sac Actun, more than I like her now in Above and Beyond. I know she’s only gotten 3 episodes so far, but she’s really missing something. Sac Actun gave us lore on her right off the bat: she’s old friends with Dashi, she’s a skilled cave explorer, she’s spunky, she’s purple. AnB hasn’t given us much yet. So far her only shtick is caves, and that’s getting a bit repetitive. Consider every moment she has in Sac Actun as her “Shining Moment”, because honestly that whole movie is a 10/10.

Koshi,,,, she hasn't gotten that much yet, but I'm gonna say The Longfin Eels is her Shine Episode. I like the way she narrates the whole episode, because it's very in-character. Plus we know she’s literally writing about this adventure in her diary as she's telling it, as if it were a mystery book. She reminds me of narrators from 1920s film noirs, and that’s cool. Also! Honorary mention of the scene when she gets her Octowatch: I loved that for her <3

Min is below the cut, because my answer for her includes some very heavy SEASON 5 SPOILERS, including SCREENSHOTS:

All of Min's appearances so far are dear to my heart. However, my favourite has to be her own introductory episode: The Giant Chinese Salamander.

The Rainforest Rescue is another amazing episode for Min—she’s a wonderful character on her own, of course—but I think we can all agree that she and Inkling are very adorable together (no matter how you interpret their relationship).

When Above and Beyond aired on Netflix, there was a lot of confusion around Min, from the younger audience and other fans who hadn’t seen S5. The Giant Chinese Salamander introduces Min with a 20-minute special; showing her in high-stakes action with Kwazii, bonding with the Octonauts, being an all-around Cool Person™, and a flashback of how she met Inkling when they were younger.

She saved his life. He was thrown far inland by a rough storm, and was trapped until she found him. I honestly headcanon that Min partially (if not outright) inspired Inkling to form the Octonauts, and this moment could have literally sealed the fate of EVERYTHING we know.

But! Until S5 comes out, that's all I've got to say~ 👋💝