#slightly gruesome edition

[sweet-cynicalstrain]

And an alternate version:

The Untamed + @unhelpfultarot (Part 4 of Untamed x Unhelpful Tarot memes)

[cherryredstars]

hi cherry!! in nice and slow reader and simon are in the beginning of exploring their intimacy. what would their first time actually having penetrative sex be like, if you don’t mind me asking (:

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Angst with Comfort, Mentions to Simon’s Sexual Trauma

Summary: The first time Simon and you go all the way.

A/N: ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim

Word Count: 1.6K (Not Edited)

Part 1

He’s frozen, nervous. 

His breathing is mix-matched as he stares down at your body. You are fully prepped, taking things extra slow this time around. You did so good, easing him into this moment. Giving him so many moments to back out, to change his mind. But He wants this, needs it. But he’s scared. His muscles are cramping up and he swears he’s dizzy. There is a ringing in his ears, and he wants to slam his palm into the side of his head to get rid of it. It’s stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. He’s being stupid. So fucking stupid. 

He knows he’s safe. He knows it's you. Beautiful, patient, wonderful you. Knows that a simple word, a noise, a movement will make you willingly back off. To give him the time to breath and recollect himself. To put this all to a stop until he’s actually ready to go all the way. But he is ready, dammit. He’s ready and he’s hard and he has been dreaming about how warm and comforting it would be to slip inside of you. How your whole body would welcome him and chase away all that bad until nothing but mind numbing pleasure filled every crevice in his body. But he’s a fuck up and this isn’t one of his stupid dreams. This is real and it’s scary, and he can feel himself fucking softening. He’s going soft and you’re under him, needy and prepared to take him. He’s fucking everything up already.

His hand comes down, giving mean and rough jerks to his cock. They are desperate movements, and he winces from the pain it gives instead of pleasure. His breath is shaky and he can feel his lungs collapsing in on themselves. Come on, come on, come on, come on, comeoncomeoncomeoncomeoncomeon. His teeth ache from how hard his jaw is clenched, his eyes not even focusing on you as he glares down at his dick. His chest is rising and falling at a dangerous rate, his pulse bleeding into his ears. 

He only snaps out of it when he flinches at an unexpected touch. Soft hands, soft, beautiful, lovely, hands gently guide his face up. His eyes are wide and wild and slightly foggy when they meet yours. You are the epitome of calm, hands cradling his cheeks as your thumb strokes the skin. You make an exaggerated effort to breathe, making noisy inhales and exhales. It takes Simon a moment, but he eventually copies you. Your hand, so gentle it doesn’t even feel like it’s there, takes his hand away from himself, placing it over your heart instead. His breath slightly hitches, his senses straying away from his own pulse to yours. It’s strong and proud, happily meeting his palm.

“Simon, baby,” you call gently. He doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes on his hand on your chest. But, you know he’s listening and you smile gently. “It’s okay. Let’s just wait a minute, yeah? Relax for me.”

He nods, something sharp and subtle. He lets himself bask in your warmth, slowly lowering his body so it covers yours. You hum in content, arms coming to rest over his shoulders. Your hands are soothing, playing with his hair and scratching his scalp gently. He breathes you in, his arms wrapping around you and grounding him. He tries to remember where he is, what’s happening instead of what has happened and where he was. Past tense, gone, history. Mere memories that can’t touch him now. Gruesome flashes that are cast away with your arms keeping him safe in your embrace.

The two of you lay there breathing gently. Your eyes are shut like you’re sleeping. Simon’s eyes are shut like he’s trying not to cry. His breath tickles against your neck and shoulders, but you say nothing. He’s thankful for the silence, letting himself get lost in his brain until he turns it off. He pulls away slightly, kissing your shoulder as he goes. Your eyes open slowly, smiling gently when Simon’s face comes into view. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Si,” You whisper up at him.

Simon lets out a shaky breath. His cock isn’t as soft as it was before, but it isn’t hard enough to do anything. He grasps it in his hands again, gentle just like your hands would be. He leans his hips forward, brushing it against your entrance. Both of you gasp at the same time, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him. Tingles shoot into his body through his tip, and he can see the way you’re clenching around nothing. His cock comes back to life, a soft groan parting from his lips as slick liquid coats his head. 

He doesn’t realize his other hand is in a tight fist against the bedsheet until you push his fingers open. Crescents dent his skin, but they’re covered up when your hands link together. His fingers are quick to close around your hand, a content sigh leaving him. His thumb rubs against your skin and you squeeze his hand in response. He takes another deep breath, chest heaving as he presses his tip to your opening. 

The nerves are still there, humming against his skin. His hand is shaking, and he squeezes his cock a little firmer to keep it stable. Your hand is the only real thing keeping him stabilized at the moment, giving him the courage to press just enough for your entrance to open up for him. He lets out a desperate noise when the very beginning of his tip gets enveloped by you. He presses more into you, feeling every ridge and groove of your walls drag against him. It’s so tight and so warm. When he bottoms out he swears he sees stars. 

If he were to tell you, or anyone for that matter, how it feels you would say he was exaggerating. But he isn’t, he fucking swears its the truth. Being inside you, being fully connected, makes everything clearer. Colors are brighter and everything in the world feels small in comparison to this moment, this feeling. He always knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that you are the endgame. That everything he had suffered in his lifetime was supposed to, in some shape or form, bring him to you. He knew--hoped-- that the two of you would grow old together. That the two of you would experience everything he missed out on together. But the thought was blurry, an afterthought or dream that he had on the rare nights that he gets a good night's sleep. But now, now it's so much clearer. 

He can see it like it's a movie, playing in his head and projected through his eyes. He can feel it, taste it on his tongue. Instead of being a distant thought, it’s right around the corner. Calling to him, beckoning him forward like a piece of forbidden fruit. You are here and you are real and it’ is better than any fucking dream his mind could come up with. 

He’s pulled away from the thought when you shift, causing something hot and prickly to shoot up his spine. He hisses, hands moving to grip your hips desperately. 

“Wait,” he pants, something desperate and shaky in his voice, “D-don’t move yet. Please, I want this to last. Give me a minute”

You freeze under him, suppressing the whimper that wants to leave you. He’s thick and throbbing inside of you, stretching you wide. It hurts slightly, but the pleasure of just having him inside you is delicious. It makes you needy and arousal drips from you. It catches Simon’s attention, his eyes focused on the proof of your enjoyment. You can’t help but squirm under his gaze, both you and Simon moaning as his cock grazes your walls. 

“Fuck, okay, love. Just- god you feel so good.” 

You whine under him, gasping when he pulls out slightly and pushes back in. He starts off slow, only pulling out little at a time. As he progresses, as the pleasure reaches new peaks every minute, he pulls out more and more until he’s going tip to base. You moan and whimper, arching your back as Simon grunts and pants. He’s honestly surprised he hasn’t come yet, the constant pressure around his cock feeling too good to be real. 

Your walls flutter again, and he buries his face into your neck. He tries to distract himself by kissing at your skin, eyes screwed shut. You mewl his name, hands holding onto his shoulders as he pumps into you. You call out to him, mumbling about how close you are, how good he’s making you feel. He lets out something close to a whimper, muffling it against your skin. His hands squeeze you the same time you squeeze around his cock. Both of you let out choked noises as you come. 

Simon pulls away to watch, a groan leaving him at the sight. Your face is contorted in pleasure, your chest rising and falling as you breathe. Knowing he’s the reason you are left in this state brings him to the edge, his hips thrusting into you a few more times before he lets out a dragged moan. 

“Oh, love. Fucking made for me,” He groans. His head falls forward again, resting against your head as he lazily pumps his release into you. “All mine, my love.”

You hold him to you, both of you trying to breathe properly again. After a few minutes, he begins to pull out, a hiss leaving both of you. He’s soft again, but perfectly content. He leans down to capture your lips into a slow kiss, and you hum into the affection. Simon rubs at your skin before he pulls away, eyes shining with something powerful. He smiles softly down at you and you are enraptured. 

When he looks at you like this, it feels like everything is falling into place.

I love this man so much, I am not normal about him :((

[hoe4hotchner]

Chapter 7 - Breaking point

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x figure skater (fem)!Reader

Summary: The story follows you a figure skater training for nationals and Aaron Hotchner as your lives intertwine during an investigation into the abductions of young athletic women, including the your close friend, Leah. As the BAU delves deeper into the case, you find yourself captivated by Hotch’s quiet strength and protective presence. When Leah’s body is tragically discovered at the rink, the tension escalates, surrounding you in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

Word count: 10.2k

Warnings: Blood, murder, ice pick stabbing, grief, trauma, and vulnerability. Disturbing imagery? (to some maybe), intense emotions, reader has feelings of guilt and fear. Heavy themes. Reader experiences shock and a sense of personal violation, I murder a minor in the ladder half of the chapter (maybe this is the last murder in the fic…. I don't know yet)……. Also maybeeeee there's an almost kiss 😈.

A/N: This took me way too long to edit…… like 4 days. And the only reason is that I'm a dumbass who constantly kept backtracking and adding more things and new scenes to the chapter….. I literally added 2.5k more words to this than it started out with.

Also I've had a busy week so that's that ;)

Masterlist

The sharp screech of tires behind you brought you back from the depths of your shock, but even as the sound echoed through the street, your mind struggled to process what lay in front of you fully. The grotesque sight of Branson’s lifeless body slumped against your front door, the dark pool of blood seeping from his chest, the ice pick still lodged in his heart — it all felt like a sick and twisted dream, something too horrific to be real — too close to home, literally.

The words smeared across your door, “You’re next,” burned into your mind, each letter etched in blood, like a threat — no, it was a threat, a threat you were far too stunned to recognize.

You felt frozen in place, paralyzed by the disbelief of the situation as well as the terror swirling around in your chest. You were unable to tear your gaze from the gruesome sight. Your breath came in shallow gasps — small clouds of condensation forming in the air — the reality of what you saw was slow to sink in. The wind whipped around you, carrying the soft rustling of leaves in the trees, but even that felt distant like it couldn’t quite reach your ears through the numbness creeping through your body.

The slam of the car door echoed sharply — the sound was violent compared to the gentle rustles of the night — a sound that should’ve jolted you, but you barely registered it. He moved with a quick, determined stride, his dark coat billowing slightly in the air as he cut across the street and through the shadows to reach you.

And then, through the thickening fog of your fear, he appeared in front of you. Solid, familiar — the cologne, you recognized it — He was undeniably real, not just something you'd imagined.

Hotch

His face, usually composed, now portrayed subtle cracks of concern as his gaze swept over the scene. Swiftly he swept it over Branson’s lifeless body, taking in the blood and the message scrawled on your door — it was not the first time he had seen a message like that, but the difference was that last time he knew that she could defend herself if necessary. You, not so much.

But then his eyes found you — you were still frozen in shock — they softened as he took in the state you were in, a mix of worry and concern spreading as he took you in. Without a word, he closed the distance between you — his presence felt grounding in the chaos — and pulled you into a firm, shielding embrace. He didn't know what had come over him — He rarely got this close with victims, no matter what they went through. But you were different.

His arms encircled you completely, holding you tightly, as though his strength alone could shield you from the horror just feet away. Although your eyes were blank — staring into the void — your arms instinctively wrapped around his back as you turned your head to let your cheek rest on his chest.

The warmth of his chest against yours, the steady rise and fall of his breathing — it all anchored you, pulling you from the haze that had swallowed your mind. For a brief moment, everything else faded: the blood, the message, the body against your door. All that existed was the safety of his hold, the quiet assurance of his touch. Him.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice rumbled in his chest making it slightly vibrate against your cheek. Hotch kept murmuring reassuring words to you, trying to reach through the panic that gripped you down to your core. But your breath was still shallow, your words tangled in the back of your throat. Your wide, glazed eyes couldn’t stop flicking back to the scene, the blood still fresh, the ice pick still gleaming in the faint light of the moon. Hotch’s arms tightened just a little as he quietly turned both your bodies around, making sure he was the one to face Branson's body, not you.

"I'm sorry... I—" you stammered, finally managing to speak, your voice broke under the weight of everything, everything you couldn't figure out how to express. The words felt hollow, lost in the moment once they'd been spoken. As the world spun around you, your knees threatened to give way, the ground beneath you felt unstable — yet the concrete was newly paid, leaving little room for uneven terrain. But before you could crumble, Hotch hooked one of his hands around your underarm and tightened his grip around you before pulling you closer, his presence was the only thing keeping you upright in that moment.

As he felt your breaths slowly getting calmer, he moved his other hand gently to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair with a softness that contrasted the harsh reality.

"Don’t apologize," he whispered, his voice was filled with reassurance. His breath ghosted over your temple as he spoke. "Just focus on me. I’m here."

Hotch managed to fish his phone from his coat pocket with the freest of his hands, keeping his arm wrapped securely around you to the best of his ability as he quickly dialed for backup. Even in this moment, his movements were fluid and purposeful, a testament to his training as an agent as well as his instincts as a human. As he spoke, his voice shifted back to its authoritative tone, the one you had heard several times before — sharp, commanding, and laced with urgency as he barked orders into the phone. "I need units at (Y/N)'s address immediately — I don't care, send them all — We've got a homicide, and she’s been threatened. Secure the perimeter, and get forensics down here. Now!"

His eyes were laser-focused, darting back and forth as he processed the situation, and tried to profile the crime scene to the best of his abilities, while still needing to make sure you were okay. The tension in his jaw was evident as he took in the horrific scene, the pieces of the puzzle finally snapping together. His gaze locked onto the message scrawled on your door, the horror of it deepening his frown. He had been too late the last time, but now was his chance to redeem his past actions. "And make it fast. No delays," he added, his voice brokering no argument.

You stood there, pressed against him as your body trembled uncontrollably. The raw reality of what had unfolded settled in your stomach like a heavy, sinking weight. Branson’s lifeless body — each horrifying detail — flashed over and over in your mind, etched too deeply to ignore. The nausea that had been simmering suddenly surged, more forceful than before, and for a moment, you thought you could hold it back. But the bile rose too fast, too fierce.

With a shaky gasp, you pulled away from Hotch as quickly as you could, stumbling a few steps toward the nearest bush. Your body betrayed you as you bent forward, retching, the nausea spilling out in waves. Your fingers dug into the rough bark of the tree beside you, gripping it as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. The sound of your own ragged breaths filled your ears, and all you could feel was the sickening churn in your gut.

Hotch was by your side in an instant, one hand resting gently on your back, while the other gently moved your hair back and into a makeshift ponytail as you emptied what little remained in your stomach. He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, offering silent comfort. When you finally straightened, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you looked pale, beads of sweat evident on your forehead.

"Come on," Hotch said gently, grabbing your hand as he once again wrapped his other arm around your shoulder. His voice was soft but steady. "Let’s get you somewhere safe." His hand remained firm around yours, guiding you with careful, deliberate, and slow steps toward his car. You could feel his thumb brushing gentle circles over your knuckles, each touch grounding you in a way words couldn't. It was like he knew that the smallest connection was just enough to stop you from collapsing completely.

When you reached the car, he opened the passenger door with ease, then gently helped you inside. You barely registered the seat beneath you, still numb from the shock of it all, but his hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary. It wasn’t just a gesture of comfort — it was something far deeper, a reminder that he wasn’t just some big-shot FBI unit chief tonight. He was someone who genuinely cared.

You leaned back against the seat, feeling the exhaustion hit you all at once, closing your eyes in an attempt to block everything out.

The distant wail of sirens cut through the night, growing louder with each passing second until it was no longer just a sound but a piercing force that seemed to disturb the air around you. In an instant, the street outside was flooded with a sea of flashing red and blue lights, illuminating the darkened neighborhood. Officers descended onto the scene with purpose, their movements quick and coordinated — they knew just what to do. Forensics teams began to set up their equipment, yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze as it was stretched across the area by an officer, and the soft murmur of voices carried through the night. The once-quiet street had transformed into a chaotic hive of activity, the lights casting a surreal, almost otherworldly glow over everything.

Outside the car, the commotion grew as K9 units arrived on the scene, their dogs weaving through the taped-off perimeter. Their barks echoed in the night. The low hum of radios crackled to life as handlers gave commands, and the dogs sniffed along the ground, searching for any trace of the unsub’s path. Their noses skimmed over the blood-streaked pavement and dewy grass, while officers kept a close watch, ensuring nothing was overlooked.

Yet, inside Hotch’s car, the world felt muted — detached from the frenetic scene outside. The flashing lights, the movement of officers, the blaring sirens, the barking dogs — it was all muffled as if a thick layer of glass separated you from the outside world. The bubble of silence around you was eerie, you hated it, but couldn't shake muffled sounds that hit your ears. You sat there, still, eyes locked on the windshield, staring straight ahead but not really seeing anything. The night outside bled into a blur, the colors and shapes swirling together making the world around you distorted.

Your mind, however, was still anchored to a singular image — the last, awful sight of Branson. That scene played on a loop behind your eyes, each detail etched into your memory. Especially the ice pick — it swirled in your thoughts, refusing to let go, trapping you in a state of disbelief. It didn’t feel real. It couldn't be real.

Hotch crouched down in front of you, his tall frame folding with an effortless grace, bringing him just below your level in a way that felt intimate. He didn’t say anything — there were no words that could possibly ease the weight of what you’d witnessed — but his presence was enough. His hand found yours — it was warm compared to your icy one — fingers threading together as though silently promising you weren’t facing this alone.

His thumb traced soft, rhythmic circles over your skin, a small yet deeply intimate gesture, one he likely didn’t even realize he was doing. It was instinct. The weight of his gaze, soft yet concerned, held you, too. It was like he was trying to tell you, without saying a thing, that he was here, that he would shoulder the weight of this even if you couldn’t.

Time seemed to stretch, each minute dragging on as though the weight of what had happened too was too much for the clock to bear. Minutes felt like hours as you and Hotch remained there — silently waiting for your mind to catch up.

You could feel the rise and fall of your own breath as you began to regain consciousness, shaky and uneven, while Hotch remained still. You stole a glance at him, the soft glow of the lights catching the flicker of concern in his eyes, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else existed beyond this.

After what felt like an eternity, movement outside the car caught your attention. Through the distorted haze of flashing lights and shadows, you saw Morgan approaching, his stride was purposeful — obviously searching for Hotch — his face was etched with a seriousness that made your stomach tighten. His eyes flickered briefly between you and Hotch as he came to a stop just outside the passenger door.

“Hotch,” he said, trying not to alert you to any of the findings forensics had found.

Hotch hesitated for a moment, his hand tightening around yours before he finally let go. The warmth of his palm slipping from your grasp felt like a sudden, chilling loss, and you fought the instinct to reach out again. He stood, straightening his tall frame as he reluctantly stepped away, he shot you a glance, as if to silently reassure you that he wasn't far, that he’d still be there even from a few paces away.

Your gaze followed him as he joined Morgan a few steps from the car, his back now partially turned to you. Even with the distance between them, you could see the taut line of his shoulders, the way his body remained rigid with tension. The concern that had softened his face when he held you seemed to harden again as he listened to Morgan, his eyes darting back to the crime scene, then flicking briefly toward you, making sure you were still okay.

From where you sat, you couldn’t hear all the words they exchanged, but the tension of their conversation hung in the air, you could sense it even from afar. Hotch’s jaw clenched, his hands fisting at his sides as he absorbed whatever Morgan was telling him, his facade of leadership slipping back into place. But before he fully immersed himself in the chaos outside, he cast one last look over his shoulder, his eyes locking onto yours for just a second longer than necessary, as if to remind you — I haven’t forgotten about you.

Morgan was already in full investigation mode, his brow deeply furrowed as he stole another glance back at the crime scene, where the forensics team was still methodically combing through every inch of evidence under the harsh glare of floodlights. The flashing red and blue lights cast a glow over the area, their shifting colors reflecting off the glass of the SUV, throwing fleeting shadows across both men’s faces.

"Talk to me," Hotch’s voice was quiet, and controlled, trying to make sure you wouldn't hear any of their conversation. He crossed his arms, posture rigid, every ounce of his attention locked onto Morgan.

Morgan exhaled, his hand scraping over the back of his neck in a gesture that managed to reveal the gravity of the situation to you. "Forensics team’s been working the scene for the last fifteen minutes," he started. "The ice pick — it's clean. No prints, no identifiable traces — no nothing. Whoever did this, they knew what they were doing." He paused. "But Branson didn’t go down without a fight. He's got defensive wounds on his hands, a struggle for sure. This wasn’t quick."

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with the implication. "He fought back?" The question hung in the air.

“Yeah,” Morgan nodded. “It just wasn’t enough. By the time anyone got here…” His voice trailed off, his gaze shifting toward the door where Branson’s body had been — now on its way to the morgue. The area was marked off with police tape now. “He was already gone.”

Hotch shifted his weight slightly as he processed the information. “Anything else?” he asked.

Morgan’s eyes darkened further, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he shared the next piece of the puzzle. “There is one more thing. The coroner estimated the time of death based on the blood, the body temperature, and rigor mortis. Hotch…” He paused, taking a breath as if preparing himself for the words about to spill from his mouth. “Branson was alive an hour ago. An hour.”

Hotch'ss gaze flicked to you for a brief second, still sitting in the car. He felt the air grow thick with tension around him. An hour meant that the unsub was still nearby, potentially even watching them right now. He could almost feel the clock ticking, each second dragging as they raced against him.

“An hour,” Hotch repeated, his voice low, barely above a whisper but brimming with restrained anger — mostly anger on the situation that this would put you in.

“Yeah,” Morgan confirmed. “Whoever did this — it wasn’t some random break-in, man. They knew what they were doing. They were fast, precise, and they left that message on the door just for her.”

Hotch inhaled deeply, his mind already racing through potential scenarios and calculating their next steps. The meticulousness of the crime screamed intent, a calculated plan rather than a spur-of-the-moment attack — but he still couldn't shake the feeling that this was supposed to be you, not Branson. The thought sent a chill down his spine. He glanced at you again, sitting in the car with a dazed expression. You had just missed Branson’s killer, and the idea that he might still be nearby sent adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“We need to get her out of here, now,” Hotch said, his voice clipped, each word felt sharp as they rolled off his tongue. He could feel the urgency pulsing through him, a powerful instinct urging him to act before it was too late. “Have the team sweep the area, and I want surveillance from every corner of this block sent to Garcia.” He knew they couldn’t afford to underestimate the killer’s capabilities.

Morgan nodded as he absorbed Hotch’s command. “Already in motion. We’re pulling footage from all nearby cameras.” He turned, his mind already racing through the logistical challenges, mentally preparing for the immediate task of gathering intel.

Hotch’s eyes stayed locked on you, lost in your thoughts, oblivious to the full scope of how close the danger had been — how close it still was. “She’s not safe here,” he murmured, more to himself than to Morgan. “Not until we figure out who’s behind this.”

“I'll take her back to the BAU,” he decided, his voice steadier now. “We can keep her safe there while we investigate. I want someone with her at all times — she deserves protection until we can ensure she’s out of harm’s way — I'll take the first shift.”

Hotch gave a curt nod, his protective instincts in full gear, as his mind shifted back to you and what needed to be done next. You weren't going to like it though, he knew that much.

Hotch slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar contours of the car offering him a semblance of control in a world that had quickly spun wildly out of it. The engine rumbled to life as he turned the key, shattering the silence that had settled around you. As he pulled away from the chaotic scene, the flashing lights of police cruisers faded into the distance behind you, but the weight of everything still pressed heavily on your chest. The bright colors, usually a beacon of help, now felt more like a reminder of the nightmare you had just escaped.

You sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out at the darkened streets, lost in your thoughts. The night felt surreal.

As the city blurred past, memories of Branson began to flood your mind — his expressions, the way he relentlessly pushed you to your limits, and those moments when his frustration spilled over into harsh words. You could almost hear him now, his voice echoing in your thoughts, the biting criticism ringing in your ears. “You call that a spin? You need to push harder, or you won’t make it to sectionals.” You knew he never meant it like that, only wanting to push you to perfection.

The sting of his words had cut deeper than you realized, a reminder of the high expectations he had set for you and the relentless pursuit of excellence he embodied. But now, in the wake of his tragic end, those very words morphed into haunting echoes of regret. Guilt washed over you like a cold wave, relentless and overwhelming. What had you missed? Were you the cause of this?

You replayed every interaction, every practice session, scrutinizing your memories for clues, for hints that could have warned you of the danger. Each laugh shared, every supportive word felt tainted now. The more you thought about it, the more the guilt clawed at you, a heavy weight settling in your stomach, twisting tighter with every breath.

Had you truly been so absorbed in your own aspirations that you failed to notice that someone had been creeping around in the shadows?

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, blurring your view of the city. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the swell of emotions threatening to break free. Branson deserved better, and you felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility as if you could have somehow altered the course of events if only you had been more aware, more present.

A sharp exhale from Hotch broke through your reverie, drawing you back to the present. “Are you okay?” he asked, glancing at you briefly before refocusing on the road ahead, his grip tightening on the steering wheel slightly.

“Yeah,” you whispered, the word feeling hollow as it left your lips. Even as you spoke, the image of Branson’s lifeless body remained etched in your mind.

“I just... I can’t believe he’s gone,” you murmured, your voice trembling with the rawness of your grief. “I don’t understand how this could happen. What did I miss? Who did this?” You wanted answers, a reason, something that could explain the senseless violence that had ripped your world apart.

Hotch’s brow furrowed with concern as he drove, his focus unwavering. “You couldn’t have known what was coming. This isn’t on you.” His voice was steady, almost like a lifeline amid the turmoil. But the reassurance felt distant as if it were meant for someone else, someone who wasn’t grappling with the painful reality of loss.

You turned your gaze out the window, watching the city lights flicker by. Deep down, you knew Hotch was right; you hadn’t seen the signs, but that didn’t erase the guilt gnawing at your insides.

“What if I could have helped him?” you asked softly, more to yourself than to him. “What if I could have changed something? What if I had been here just a moment earlier?” The ‘what ifs’ were suffocating, spiraling into a vortex of self-blame and sorrow.

Hotch’s hand shifted slightly on the wheel as he considered your words. “You’re not a mind reader,” he replied, his tone was firm but gentle — he was always gentle with you. “You were focused on your training, on your goals. There was no way you could have anticipated this.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “You have to remember that you did everything you could in your capacity. Sometimes, evil acts without warning, and it’s not something you can control  — Besides if you'd been here earlier, I'm not sure we would be having this conversation right now.” Hotch hated to speak those words, but he needed you to know that there was nothing you could've done.

The weight of his words sank in, but the guilt still gnawed at you relentlessly. Had you failed him? You still couldn't shake the feeling that you should have done more, seen more.

“Branson’s death is on the person who took his life, not you,” Hotch said, “He was in a dangerous position, and whatever conflict he had, those were between him and whoever hurt him. You didn’t cause this.” Hotch didn't want to admit the real truth behind Branson's death, he couldn't, not when you were this distraught.

You nodded, but inside, the turmoil raged on. “It just feels so unfair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was always so strong. I thought he could handle anything.”

“Right now, you need to focus on staying safe,” Hotch continued, “I'm taking you to the BAU for the night. You need to be out of the public eye until we figure out what’s going on. The last thing we want is for you to be targeted next.”

You felt a swell of gratitude toward Hotch for his unwavering commitment to your safety, but anxiety fluttered in your chest. “What if they find me? What if—”

“They won’t,” Hotch interjected, “I'll make sure of it. The team is already mobilizing to ensure your safety, and we have protocols in place for situations like this.” His confidence provided a flicker of hope.

His protective tone gave you a sense of comfort, but the lingering shadows of doubt remained. How close had you really come to danger? The realization that you had missed the killer — maybe only by mere seconds — sent shivers down your spine.

As Hotch turned down a quiet street, you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. “Thank you for being here,” you said quietly, the gratitude spilling from your heart. You knew that the gravity of your situation wasn’t lost on him; he understood the stakes far too well.

He nodded, his focus unwavering as he navigated through the darkened roads, the steady rhythm of the engine creating a false sense of normalcy. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he replied, “We’ll figure this out together. One way or the other.” You leaned back in your seat, trying to absorb his words.

Hotch took a sharp corner, the familiar outline of the BAU building looming ahead like a fortress amidst the darkness of the night. A swell of unease twisted in your stomach.

“Hotch, I don’t think I need to go back there,” you protested, your voice wavering slightly, betraying the fear that lingered just beneath the surface. “I can stay at my apartment. I’ll be fine. I promise.” The thought of returning to the very place that had become a backdrop for the whole case sent chills through you, and you desperately clung to the hope of finding safety within your own four walls.

Hotch’s gaze flicked to you as if he had already anticipated your objections. “No, you’re not fine. Not after what happened tonight.” His voice was firm. “I need you to understand this isn’t just about you feeling safe; it’s about your safety. The unsub is targeting people close to you, and we can’t take any chances, not when you've outright been threatened on your own doorstep.”

“But I can handle this! I’m not a child,” you insisted, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. You hated the feeling of being trapped, like a bird caged against its will, desperately flapping its wings to escape. The independence you had always prided yourself on felt stripped away, replaced by a suffocating sense of helplessness.

“Believe me, I know you’re not a child,” Hotch replied, his tone suggested that he understood your frustration but wouldn’t back down. “But the facts are clear. Branson was murdered in your doorway. You need protection until we get a handle on this.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you said, your voice quieter now, revealing the vulnerability you were struggling to hide. “I can’t keep you away from your work.”

“You’re not a burden,” Hotch said. “You’re my priority. We can’t afford to let our guard down, especially when you’re in the crosshairs of someone who’s already proven they can kill — multiple times.”

You glanced out the window, the streetlights flickering slightly. As much as you wanted to argue, deep down, you knew he was right.

“Just for tonight,” you complied, the words tasting bittersweet as they left your lips. “But I don’t want to be locked up like some kind of prisoner.” The image of being confined within four walls, stripped of your freedom, sent a shiver down your spine.

Hotch’s lips twitched into a smile. “I understand,” he replied, his eyes were full of empathy as he looked at you. “This isn’t about taking your freedom away; it’s about ensuring your safety. You’ll have space, and we’ll keep things as normal as possible.” His promise resonated with you, yet the fear of losing control over your life lingered like a ghost in the back of your mind.

As he parked in the parking garage of the BAU, Hotch turned off the engine, and a heavy silence enveloped you both for a moment. He seemed to sense your apprehension, his eyes softening as they met yours again. “Let’s get you inside,” he said gently, reaching over to squeeze your hand in a gesture that was meant to comfort you.

Stepping out of the car, the chill basement wrapped around you. The cold seemed to seep into your bones. Hotch fell into step next to you as you made your way through the concrete confines of the parking garage, the low hum of distant machinery and flickering fluorescent lights overhead punctuating the silence.

When you finally reached his office, Hotch unlocked and opened the door and gestured for you to step inside. The warm light from the lamp in the corner illuminated the space, softening the sharp edges of his furniture and making it feel a little less foreboding. You walked in, your body feeling heavy with exhaustion as if each step required immense effort. Hotch closed the door behind you.

“Are you hungry or thirsty? I can grab you something,” Hotch offered, concern etched on his features, his brow slightly furrowed as he studied you. He didn't know what he was looking for.

You shook your head slowly, fatigue weighing heavily on your eyelids and limbs. “No, I’m okay. Just… tired.” The admission felt like a weight lifted, but it was also a reminder of how drained you truly were from the emotional turmoil of the night.

“Why don’t you lie down on the couch?” he suggested gently, glancing over at his couch. The soft fabric looked inviting you thought. “It’s been a long night.”

As he moved to grab a blanket from the lower drawer of his desk, you nodded, grateful for the opportunity to rest. The idea of sinking into the softness of the couch felt like a small oasis. At least it was better than nothing. You crawled onto the couch, the gentle fabric cradling you as you settled in, letting out a small sigh of relief.

Hotch returned with the blanket. He draped it over you with a care that spoke volumes. “Thank you,” you murmured, feeling the warmth envelop you like a protective cocoon, easing some of the tension that your body still held onto.

He paused for a moment, studying you. You could see the concern carved on his face. “You really should try to get some sleep,” he urged softly, his voice was soothing. “I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”

As he turned to grab some files from his desk, you felt a sudden rush of vulnerability wash over you. You stopped him, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke. “You don’t have to go. I don’t mind if you work while I sleep.”

Hotch turned back to face you, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and you noticed how the tension in his features began to ease as he processed your request. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to have you here,” you replied, settling deeper into the cushions.

“Okay,” he replied, his smile growing warmer and more genuine. He placed the files back down on his desk, the clatter of paper breaking the silence. Then, he took a seat in his chair, he felt close enough that you could still sense his presence without the pressure of conversation.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips before sleep began to pull you under.

“Goodnight."

As you drifted off, Hotch couldn’t help but steal glances at you. He watched as your eyelids fluttered, surrendering to the exhaustion. Your breathing became slow and steady, and for a moment, you almost seemed peaceful despite everything.

His mind raced with thoughts of Branson, and the danger still lurking in the shadows, yet here, in this moment, all he could see was you. He found himself entranced by the way the blanket hugged your form, how your hair fell over your face in soft strands.

As he tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him, he realized he was completely forgetting the files he had intended to work on. Every time he glanced at you, the contents of the documents seemed to fade into the background. He leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips as he took in the serenity of the scene before him.

Hotch found solace in knowing you were safe, even if just for the night. He would do everything in his power to ensure that it stayed that way.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was how stiff your body felt, your muscles tight from hours spent curled up on the couch. What had started as a comfortable escape from the night’s events had become a reminder of how unforgiving furniture could be as a resting place. You stretched gingerly, feeling the pull of your sore limbs, each movement was stiff. Slowly, you opened your eyes, blinking as the soft, golden light of the rising sun filtered in through the large windows on the opposite end of the room.

The office was quiet. You blinked a few times, the world around you coming into focus. The blanket Hotch had given you was still wrapped snugly around your body, providing some form of comfort, if not against last night's event, then at least against the lingering chill in the air.

As you sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you glanced around the office. It felt strange to be here, so close to home yet so far. And somehow still feeling safe within the four walls of Hotch's office. The lamp on his desk was still on, casting a soft glow around it, and you realized he must have stayed nearby the whole night. The thought brought a small smile to your lips, knowing he hadn’t left you to face the fear alone.

Glancing around, you shifted your legs off the couch and stood, still cocooned in the blanket. The office was cold, making you wonder if they turned the AC off during the night, it made you shiver as you padded toward the door in just your socks, your shoes abandoned somewhere by the couch during the night. The quietness of the office felt almost surreal, especially when you were used to the constant sound of keys being tapped, papers being shuffled and phones being answered. You hesitated for a moment with your hand on the doorknob. Part of you wanted to stay hidden away in the relative safety of Hotch's office, but the pull of needing to know what was happening outside, to know if there was any news about your case pushed you forward.

With a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The familiar scent of coffee and paper greeted you. The office was mostly still, not a lot of people had shown up for work yet you presumed. As you glanced toward the bridge that overlooked the bullpen, you spotted the lights on in the conference room, telling you the team had presumably already gathered, likely debriefing or strategizing about the night’s events — hopefully.

Your stomach tightened at the thought of joining them — you wanted to know what was going on, yet frightened by the idea that the killings were turning into a sick game on a far larger scale. You lingered for a moment outside of the door, wrapping the blanket tighter around your frame.

But there was a tug in your chest, a need to know. A need to understand what the next steps were. You had been too close to the danger, too close to losing everything, and now the questions that had plagued you all night demanded answers. You took a deep breath and walked toward the conference room.

Your steps were slow and quiet, the soft padding of your socks barely making a sound against the floor. You felt oddly detached from everything around you — groggy, bones achy, and still mentally processing everything.

Through the glass in the door, you caught sight of the team, their expressions grave as they pored over the case files. Papers were scattered in every direction, and from the tense looks on their faces, you could tell they were deep in conversation.

Hotch stood at the head of the table, and though his back was to you, the familiar sight of him, so composed and in control, offered a sense of reassurance. It was strange how someone you didn't really know could be a pillar of strength in a moment when everything around you felt like it was crumbling.

You paused just outside the door, unsure if you should intrude. They were clearly in the middle of something important, and the last thing you wanted was to be a distraction. Exhaustion still clung to you, making your body feel sluggish, your mind slow to fully wake from sleep.

You watched them silently, your mind racing through the events of the previous night. It left a sick feeling in your stomach, and you closed your eyes briefly, trying to shake the images away.

A part of you longed to join them in the room, to step into the conversation and hear for yourself what they’d discovered. But another part of you — the part that was bone-tired and emotionally drained — wanted nothing more than to retreat to Hotch’s office, crawl back onto the couch, and hide away from the word in your blanket.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced back at Hotch. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. You knew he was doing everything in his power to keep you safe. For now, that had to be enough — right?

Despite your hesitation, curiosity gnawed at you. You had to know.

With a deep breath, you gently pushed open the door open, hoping to slip inside unnoticed. The conversation sounded intense as you entered, and you instinctively tried to make yourself as invisible as possible, not wanting to disrupt their work. You hovered by the door, watching as they analyzed the spread of documents, their minds already far ahead, piecing together the puzzle of the case.

"The unsub never cared about Branson. He was always after Y/N," Hotch said, his words cutting through the room like a blade. The certainty in his tone made the atmosphere shift. "She was the target from the beginning."

Your body went stiff, a wave of terror washing over you as the meaning of his words hit you. Every muscle tensed, heart hammering in your chest. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the room seemed to close in around you.

"What?!" The word tumbled out of your mouth, laced with panic. It wasn’t just a question — it was a plea for this to somehow be untrue.

The world slowed for a beat, and as your voice echoed through the room, every head turned toward you. The expressions on their faces mirrored your shock and disbelief, but none of them said a word.

Hotch’s voice cut through the room, sharper and more commanding than you'd expected. “What are you doing up?”

“I just... I wanted to see if you’d figured anything out,” you said quietly, your voice sounding smaller than intended.

"Y/N," Hotch began, his tone much gentler now, "the evidence points to the unsub targeting you specifically. Branson’s murder, the message on your door — it was all meant to scare you, to make you vulnerable."

You blinked, trying to process what he was saying, but the words made your legs feel weak. The killer was after you, not Branson. Everything was about you. A chill ran down your spine as you remembered the blood-soaked message on your front door.

"Why?" you managed to choke out.

Hotch took a step toward you. "We’re still working on the motive, but this isn’t random. Whoever this is... they know you."

You felt like the floor had dropped from beneath you. Your mind raced with the implications — who could possibly be after you like this? Why?

Hotch's eyes never left yours as he carefully laid out the pieces of the profile. "At first, we thought Leah was the target," he explained, his words clear yet heavy. "But it became clear that she was never the unsub’s endgame. Leah was used as a pawn — to isolate you, to send a message, and ultimately to draw you in."

You blinked, struggling to absorb the gravity of his words. The cold, clinical breakdown of Leah's murder felt like a punch to the gut. Leah hadn't just been an innocent victim in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had been killed to get to you. The memory of finding her body at the rink flashed through your mind. It had all seemed so random, so senseless back then.

"Leah’s death was staged for you to find," Hotch continued. "The unsub knew it would devastate you, that it would leave you vulnerable. He needed you emotionally off-balance, unsure of who to trust, and it worked."

"Branson was the last obstacle," Hotch said, his brow furrowing as he pieced everything together. "The unsub knew how close you were to him, how much time you spent together at the pavilion. Branson wasn’t just your coach — he was a fixture in your life, a constant presence. The unsub needed to remove him, to sever any connection that could shield you, completely cut off anyone who might stand in the way between him and you."

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. You felt every gaze in the room on you.

"The M.O. has been consistent," Hotch continued, pacing slightly as he spoke. "Each victim, from the very first to Branson, was carefully selected — not randomly, not by coincidence. They were all connected to you. The unsub wasn’t targeting them for who they were, but for what they meant. Branson was just the final step in isolating you."

Your throat tightened, a lump forming as the weight of what he was saying hit you. Every life lost, every crime scene you’d encountered, was part of a sick, calculated plan designed to strip away your safety net. Leah, Branson… they weren’t just victims. They were tools, pieces of a puzzle the unsub had been meticulously constructing around you.

"But why me?" you managed to ask, your voice on the verge of breaking. "Why go through all of this just to get to me?"

Hotch took a deep breath, his expression softening. "We’re still working on the why," he admitted, "but what we do know is that the unsub has a fixation on you. Whether it's personal or something more symbolic, you're the one he want. He's most likely been watching you, planning this for a long time."

Hotch turned back toward the board, the photos of the victims now arranged in a way that made their connection to you painfully obvious. Leah, Branson, and the others — each face staring back at you. "This unsub has one goal — to get to you."

You could feel your legs trembling beneath you. It wasn’t just about being in the wrong place at the wrong time anymore. It had always been about you.

It had always been about you.

When the meeting finally adjourned, you slipped out of the room without a word, unnoticed by the rest of the team. Your feet moved on autopilot, carrying you toward the nearest exit, seeking the open air before you even realized what you were doing. The moment you stepped outside, the cold wind hit you. It cut through the blanket, sending a shiver down your spine, but the chill was a welcome contrast to the suffocating weight pressing on your chest.

You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself as if the pressure might hold you together when everything inside felt like it was unraveling. You pressed your back against the nearest wall, seeking support as your legs threatened to give way beneath you.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke through the silence. You opened your eyes to see Hotch stepping toward you. He stopped a few feet away, keeping a respectful distance, his hands buried in his pockets. The quiet between you was heavy, almost tangible as if both of you were waiting for the other to speak first.

“Y/N,” he began softly, his voice cutting through the air. “You’ve been quiet today. I wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay. I know this is a lot to be thrown into, and I can tell that it’s weighing on you.”

“I just…” You hesitated, your voice trembling slightly as you fought to put the emotions into words. Admitting it out loud made it feel more real, and you weren’t sure you were ready to face that. “I can’t help but feel responsible, Hotch. If I had been more aware — if I had paid more attention to what was happening at the rink — maybe I could have prevented something.” Your voice cracked at the end.

“I don’t know how to process this,” you finally admitted, the confession slipping from your lips in a whisper, barely holding back the flood of emotions threatening to spill.

Without hesitation, Hotch stepped closer. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Y/N,” he said. “You had no way of knowing what was happening. Leah and Branson’s deaths aren’t on you.”

Despite Hotch’s reassurances, the guilt still clung to you. "But I trained with her, I was there, and I missed all the signs. If I had just noticed something — anything — I could’ve helped," you murmured. The image of Leah’s face, her laughter, how she would light up once stepping onto the ice. The more you thought about it, the more it felt like you had failed her.

Hotch’s expression didn’t waver, but his voice dropped, taking on a more personal tone. "We all miss things sometimes," he said. "Even when we’re right in the middle of it, even when we're trained to see it. Believe me, I know how hard it is not to carry that burden. But you’re here now, and you're helping us piece this together. That's what matters."

You looked away for a moment, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as you fought to hold them back. His words were kind, but the pain of losing Leah — and the fear of losing more people you cared about—was still raw.

"I just don’t want to let anyone else down," you whispered, your voice so quiet it barely rose above the wind.

You could feel the warmth of his presence beside you. "You won’t," he said softly. "We’re in this together, Y/N. You’re not alone in this fight."

“None of this is your fault,” Hotch continued. “You've done everything you could to help us, and you’re still here — That’s what matters.”

You nodded, your head moving almost on its own, but inside, the doubt still lingered. The truth of Hotch’s words felt distant, buried beneath the crushing weight of your thoughts. “It just feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff,” you murmured, trying to paint him the picture you were experiencing. The words spilled out before you could stop them. There was a tremor in your voice, although small it was undeniable. “And I can’t see what’s below. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

“I know what it feels like to be on that edge,” he said, the vulnerability in his voice catching you off guard. “To feel like the ground’s going to give way, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. But you’re not standing there alone.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak, but you managed a quiet, “How do you deal with it?”

“You focus on what you can control,” he said finally. “The people you can protect, the steps you can take. And you lean on the people who are there for you.” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not facing this alone, Y/N. We’re going to stop him. I promise you won’t lose anyone else.”

His words wrapped around you like a safety net. You hadn’t expected his sincerity to reach so deeply, and as it sank in, a strange warmth pulsed through your chest — a stirring that went beyond gratitude. His reassurance should have brought only comfort, but there was something more layered within it, a growing tension between you that you couldn’t ignore, something that had lingered in each shared glance, simmering just below the surface for weeks.

Every word he spoke felt like it drew you in, pulling you into his orbit. It was almost unnerving, the invisible connection weaving between you despite your circumstances. And yet, it also felt steady — something constant amid the whirlwind.

You looked at him, taking in the seriousness in his expression, his posture, the way he seemed so prepared to protect you from anything — and yet also so keenly aware of the risks. The thought made your heart ache.

In this moment, with the two of you standing just inches apart, it felt as though the case had created a connection that you could no longer deny. Every word, every glance between you held a gravity that went beyond the investigation. You saw it in his eyes.

You felt the urge to speak, to break the silence, but the words caught in your throat, held back, like you couldn’t quite articulate what you wanted to say. Instead, you let out a quiet breath, one that seemed to say everything you couldn’t.

Hotch’s hand twitched at his side as if he, too, was grappling with the pull between you, resisting the instinct to reach out. You could feel his restraint, the careful way he held himself, aware that even the smallest movement might tip you both over an invisible line. There was a sense of inevitability, of something that had been building for far too long, yet held back by professionalism.

You watched his breath escape into the cold, hanging between you. For just a heartbeat, his normally guarded expression softened, and in that fleeting vulnerability, you glimpsed something raw, something he’d worked so hard to keep hidden. There was a gentleness beneath the intensity of his gaze, a silent acknowledgment that you weren’t just another civilian to protect, not just a responsibility to bear.

His dark eyes held yours, searching, as though trying to communicate everything that words could never capture. Every second that passed felt like it brought you closer to some uncharted line.

The world beyond the two of you seemed to fade into a blur. It was just the two of you, bound in a space that felt like it could shatter with a breath, yet impossibly strong.

The distance between you shrank, each heartbeat a steady drumbeat against the air. Though the cold nipped at your skin, you could feel the warmth radiating from him, almost magnetic, pulling you closer. The faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crispness of the air.

“Hotch…” The word slipped from your lips, softer than you’d intended. His gaze held yours, and in it, you saw everything — the worry, the protectiveness, the tension — everything.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding, and almost without realizing it, you leaned just a fraction closer. The smallest movement, but it felt monumental. Hotch’s hand brushed the side of your arm, his touch controlled yet hesitant as if testing the waters. The warmth of his fingers against your skin sent a shiver through you.

In that brief, suspended moment, it felt like everything you’d been holding back — every unsaid word, every hidden glance, every moment of shared silence — they aligned.

And then — the sharp, intrusive ring of his phone shattered the quiet, piercing through the stillness like an alarm.

In an instant, the spell broke. The warmth between you dissipated, replaced by a jarring awareness of the space you now stood in — the same world you had briefly left behind. Hotch blinked, and you saw his expression shift, the softness in his eyes vanishing as his features hardened, slipping back into the familiar armor of his professionalism. He released your arm, his fingers trailing away, leaving only the faintest sensation of warmth that seemed to fade too quickly.

With practiced efficiency, he pulled the phone from his pocket, glancing down at the screen as his shoulders straightened and his jaw tightened. The moment — fragile and fleeting — was gone as if it had never been, as if the connection you’d felt just seconds before had been nothing more than a daydream.

You exhaled softly, feeling the chill settle over you once more. The air felt colder now, sharper, biting against your skin. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly aware of the emptiness left behind, as Hotch lifted the phone to his ear, his voice low and commanding as he responded.

"Hotchner," He replied as he answered the phone.

Hotch's expression shifted in an instant. He didn’t need to say a word; the two of you moved in sync, instinctively heading toward his car.

“I’ll drive,” he said, his tone commanding but not unkind.

You hesitated for a split second, catching the hint of concern lingering beneath his steely resolve. “Hotch, you know I would have gone either way, right?”

He gave a slight nod. “I know. Which is exactly why you’re coming with me.” His jaw set as he started the engine, adding in a tone just above a murmur, “It’s safer this way.”

As you neared the rink, the darkness in the sky seemed to darken the closer you got, and Hotch’s hands tightened on the wheel. He cast you a sidelong glance, his eyes steady and serious. “Stay close to me. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

You nodded. “Got it. Right beside you.”

He exhaled, his grip on the wheel loosening just a fraction. “Good.”

As you entered the rink, the scene that unfolded felt like stepping into a nightmare. The quiet space was transformed into a tense, chaotic tableau. Clusters of staff and coaches huddled together, their hushed voices forming a low hum that seemed to vibrate with barely restrained fear.

As you moved further in, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the anxiety that clung to the air. Some of the coaches stood with their arms crossed, brows furrowed, watching the crowd as if bracing for more bad news. Others paced nervously, their gazes darting around as though expecting something — or someone — to appear from the shadows any second now. It was as if the entire crowd had been frozen, caught in a collective breath of dread, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Hotch’s hand found the small of your back. He leaned in, his voice low. “Keep your eyes sharp. People are scared — they might not even realize what they’ve seen.” Hotch remained close by your side.

“What happened?” Hotch’s voice cut through the anxious murmur that blanketed the rink.

A staff member stepped forward, clearly shaken, his face pale and his hands trembling slightly. He swallowed, struggling to find his voice. “It’s… it’s one of the skaters. They found another body in the locker room. It’s bad… really bad.” Each word was heavy, laden with a gravity that turned the air even colder.

Your heart sank, a coil of dread tightening in your stomach as the realization hit — another life taken, another person lost. You turned to Hotch, locking eyes, the horror in his expression mirroring your own.

“Stay behind me,” Hotch instructed. “I don’t want you to see more than you have to.” His protective tone made it clear he understood the weight of what you were about to witness, even if he wished you didn’t have to. But you knew there was no turning back now; you needed to see this through.

The locker room greeted you with an oppressive silence, punctuated only by the faint hum rink cooling system in the back. The sight before you was haunting. There, sprawled on the cold, tiled floor, lay another skater. Recognition hit you instantly as you took in her familiar features. She was young, barely more than a child, perhaps no older than fifteen or sixteen — just a teenager.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the contrast of her bright skating gear against the dark, glistening pool was a sight too tragic to bear. The vivid hues of her outfit, now lay drowned in a sea of red, her innocence stolen. The room felt as if it were spinning. Every instinct screamed for you to look away, to spare yourself the trauma, yet you found yourself rooted to the spot, unable to turn from the horror that lay before you. This wasn’t supposed to happen — you barely even knew this girl — the unsub wasn't supposed to target people you didn't know — or people you knew for the matter.

Hotch’s gaze fell on you, noticing the tremor in your shoulders, the haunted look in your eyes. His concern deepened, and he quickly stepped closer, his hand resting on your arm. “Stay back,” he instructed, his voice firm but soft, gently encouraging you to distance yourself from the scene — he knew you weren't strong enough to continue seeing the horrors for much longer.

But you couldn’t move. It was as though every part of you was chained to the scene before you. You felt a chill creeping over you, a sense that you would never be able to feel safe in the pavilion again.

As the rest of the team arrived, your heart hammered in your chest. Each face that passed, each hurried glance, only served to remind you of the moment, amplifying the dread that had already taken root deep in your bones.

“Get her out of here!” Hotch commanded as the rest of the team entered the locker room, his voice cutting through the noise with an authority that brooked no argument. The tone of his command was a jolt to your system, pulling you back to reality as you struggled to comprehend the situation.

“Come on, honey, let’s go take a breath of air,” Emily’s voice was soft but firm, her hands wrapping around your shoulders as she gently steered you out of the locker room. You leaned into her touch, grateful for the solid, presence amid the storm swirling inside you. Each step she guided you felt like a small reprieve from the nightmare.

Emily gave your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, sensing the weight you carried. “Take your time,” she murmured, her tone was soothing. The ache in your chest pulsed with each heartbeat, and though you felt yourself moving farther from the scene, you knew that the memory of this moment— the sense of loss and helplessness you constantly felt — would stay with you, woven deep into your mind.

Emily led you to the bleachers, where the soft hum of the rink faded into the background. You sank onto a cold metal seat, your mind racing as you grappled with the surreal reality of it all. The icy breath of the arena brought a sharp clarity, but it also deepened the ache in your chest. You had always viewed skating as a sanctuary, a place of beauty and grace, but now it felt tainted, marred by the violence that had infiltrated your world. The camaraderie and support you once cherished seemed distant, replaced by an unsettling feeling of vulnerability.

She guided you to the bleachers. The muted hum of the rink felt like it receded as you sank down onto the cold metal seat — although it still rang in your ears. Emily didn’t speak, just offered a reassuring closeness, as if she understood the depths of your emotions. Deep down, a part of you feared that the pavilion — if not skating all together — wouldn't feel the same ever again.

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Eepy

WC: 3,084

Based on Eloguentmoon's Romantic Confessions prompt #12 “You are all I can think about.” 

Summary: Satoru can't sleep, and it's all your fault

CW: Slightly suggestive

A/N: I wrote this way too fast, not sure I like it but the brain rot is getting to me (Not proofread). Also would love to have someone to Beta read/edit since I can never bring myself to do that haha, so if anyone is interested message me!

Satoru’s alarm blares through the otherwise quiet morning air, and he can’t be bothered to jump in surprise despite its ear-grating volume. With a groan, he swings his arm over to slap at his phone a few times, somehow effectively turning off the alarm before reaching up to drag his hand across his face and rubbing the grit from his sunken eyes. He sits upright, his head sagging slightly, his feet haphazardly placed on the ground, and he is staring at his wall, trying to gain the motivation to hoist himself from the bed. He doesn’t notice when his eyes droop and his hands fall limp at his side until he’s startled from his partial sleep by obnoxiously loud music wafting in from your shared bathroom down the hall. He curses before standing up and shuffling his way to the bathroom. Standing in the hallway, he looks at you through the mirror as you brush your teeth, getting toothpaste all over your cheeks before glancing up at him and smiling through your toothbrush. 

“So you’re why these counters are always so dirty, huh? Knew it wasn’t me,” Satoru chuckles to himself while you spit the foam into the sink, effectively spraying the entire bowl. 

You turn to face him fully, hands on your hips like some kind of angry cartoon character. “You’re so full of it, Gojo. You get toothpaste all over the mirror. Just the other day, I watched you wipe hair gel on the counter, too.” 

“Did not, whatever, move. It’s my turn. I have an exam today, and I can’t be late.” He emphasizes his point by lightly shoving you with his shoulder before reaching for his toothbrush. With a grumble and a subtle stomp, you push into his side, reaching for the water cup. 

“It's not my fault you slept in, loser.” You make a point of sticking your tongue out at him in the mirror before filling your cup and swishing your mouth out. Satoru reaches over your hand to grab the capless toothpaste before placing some onto his toothbrush and bringing it to his mouth. 

“It's not my fault I was up all night either,” he mumbles through his toothbrush, lazily swiping at his pearly whites while glaring daggers into you through the mirror as you begin to brush out your hair. 

“I fail to see how that’s my fault. You didn’t have to stay up and movie marathon with me…could have gone to bed at any point.” You elbow him slightly while yanking at a particularly gruesome knot in your hair and fail to notice the slight blush that covers his cheeks at your statement. You’re right; he didn’t have to stay up, but when he thinks back to last night, having you curled up to his side, head resting on his shoulder while you make the softest snoring noise, he can’t help but think that he’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

“Yeah, right, you woulda cried like a baby if I said no. Can’t make it through a jump scare without crying about it,” he giggles to himself before ruffling your hair, effectively undoing your progress, and sliding out of the bathroom before you could yell at him. 

He clicks the door shut and rubs his eyes again. God, he was so lovesick, literally. 

The exhaustion from staying up late with you made him feel awful. His eyes were egregiously sunken in, his skin paler than usual, and his stomach twisted in knots. He couldn’t focus while studying, his mind always wandering to you; he wondered what you were up to, what movies you might watch tonight, and if you ended up texting that frat guy back. He thought about how cute you looked in his shirt, washing the dishes while you bitched about it not being his day to do laundry; honestly, he wasn’t paying attention. How could he when you were standing there, engulfed in his shirt, the late sun highlighting your profile perfectly, the back of your plush thighs staring at him, begging to be squeezed? 

After you fell asleep against him during your now nightly movie binges, he found himself tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep while visions of you flashed through his mind repeatedly. Thinking of your hands on his thigh haphazardly as the tiny breaths you puffed out tickled his neck, your chest unknowingly squished into his arm so he could feel the slow rise and fall of your chest—nothing like his own erratic breaths as he tried desperately to keep his attention on whatever movie was playing. When he’d tuck you into your bed after you fell asleep, sometimes he couldn’t help but sit and watch you as you slept so peacefully, unaware of his presence, your hair falling around your face and your arms tucked close to your chin. He knows how creepy that sounds, but he was frankly lovesick, like he said. 

After dragging his palms down his face, he pushes himself from the door with a newfound determination to just get today over with. He throws on a hoodie before glancing at himself in the mirror. He looked like shit. He stops for a moment and contemplates doing his hair or even throwing on jeans to try and feel more like himself, but even reaching his arms up to his head makes him feel exhausted, so with a groan, he throws on a beanie and decides not to think about it. 

When he makes his way to the front door, he’s met with you, tipped over in a skirt, trying to pull on your shoes; the back of your skirt is riding up, nearly exposing your panties to him. 

“Gojo?” You must have felt him staring, and he felt his face heat up in response. 

He gulps the shakiness in his voice down before speaking, “Yeah?”

“Do you want to walk to class together today?” you stand up to your full height now, and he can’t help but give you a once over; he looks like a bum next to you, “I have a presentation today, so I figured I should show up a little early.” You offer him a smile as you pull a coat on, trapping your hair underneath it. 

Almost on instinct, he steps towards you and pulls the hair out from your coat, noticing how good you smell when he drops the locks down to your shoulders, “Sure, but I gotta be quick, can’t miss another exam, or I’m fucked, think you can keep up?” He chuckles lightly before swinging his bag over his shoulders and peering down at you. 

“That’s a pretty high demand, considering your legs are so freakishly long, but I’ll try.” you let out a breathy laugh before grabbing your bag and reaching for the door. 

Satoru slips his shoes on and follows you into the crisp morning air. 

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you look like shit.” You say while looking him over once and taking in his slightly disheveled appearance. Really, he didn’t look much different than every other overworked college student, but he didn’t look like Gojo. He always wore something bordering on too nice for school, dress pants or jeans and a button-up shirt of some kind, never sweat pants and a hoodie.

He scoffed, kicking at rocks on the sidewalk, “So you wore something nice once, and now I’m the bum? Jeez, that’s unfair.” 

“Rude, first of all, I look cute in my sweats, I’ll have you know; secondly, it’s just…weird, you hate leaving your hair down and have told me on several occasions that you can’t stand the way it gets in your eyes, but also you just look sick, are you sleeping okay?” You spare him a glance before looking down towards your shoes, your voice growing a little quieter, “You really don’t have to stay up with me, yaknow?”

“No,” he stammers out a bit too fast for his liking, slowing his pace a little to look at you entirely, “I mean, that’s not it, I just…have a lot on my mind yaknow? Term’s almost over so I’ll be able to sleep all I want soon, and I’ll be back to annoying the shit outta you don’t worry” he lets out a hearty laugh at his last statement. You seem to perk up a little at this statement as if you were really worried about him. 

The rest of the day drags on forever. He falls asleep in his last class, not stirring, even when his classmates hurriedly stuff their belongings into their bags. He lies there blissfully unaware of the world around him. That is until he’s jolted back to reality by a delicate hand pushing his hair away from his eyes. Groggy and unsure, he looks up to see you through the stubborn sleep in his eyes. You look upset, brows furrowed, and a hand on your hip while you lean down to be at eye level with him. 

“That’s it, you’re grounded, Mr.” you huff out before pushing his shoulder in an attempt to get him to move from his place on the desk. 

“Who the fuck’r you to ground me?” he mutters out, slowly making his way to stand before offering you an indignant look. 

“At this rate, I’m starting to think I’m your mother,” you state before reaching down to grab his bag, but he swats your hand away, slinging it over his shoulder haphazardly. 

“Don’t need you to baby me, ‘m grown yaknow?” he speaks through a yawn while stretching out his obscenely lanky body, showing off just the tiny bit of midriff, causing you to avert your eyes with a light flush to your cheeks, but this goes unnoticed by Satoru’s hazy mind. 

“At this rate, I’m afraid you’ll fall asleep in traffic,” you grumble out, tagging behind him as he slowly trudges out to the parking lot. He trips over his own feet a bit, his exhaustion weighing on him like a ton of bricks, swaying slightly, blinking repeatedly in an effort to keep himself awake and upright, blue eyes burning from the afternoon sun. Your smaller frame, keeping pace with him, easily draws a look of concern on your features before you throw his arm over your shoulder in an effort to keep him walking straight. He recedes further into his hood in an effort to hide the blush creeping across his face. Your smaller frame does little to keep him upright; he’s certain that if he were to collapse right now, he’d take you both out, but he keeps this thought to himself, not wanting you to let go of him. He pulls you ever so slightly closer to him, nerves alive at the feel of your small hand on his back despite the copious layers between you. 

You walk home the rest of the way in silence, only letting go of him when you breach the front door of your shared apartment, where Satoru drops his bag at the door with a dramatic thud before sulking over to the couch throwing himself across the couch and reaching for the remote, absentmindedly scrolling through Netflix. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you snap out before striding over to him, snatching the remote from his hands and moving to the edge of the couch before yanking his shoes off, halfheartedly tossing them in front of the door. 

“Well, I was looking for a movie, grump ass,” Satoru mumbles pulling his feet closer to himself in embarrassment. 

“Nope, I said you’re grounded, go get in your bed,” You really were starting to sound like his mom at this rate. 

He looks up at you, absolutely flabbergasted, mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the words to tell you just how insane you sound. 

“Gojo, you can’t hardly stand up straight, you look like shit, and pretty soon your grades are gonna start dropping…” You bark out before looking meek, fiddling with a stray thread on the arm of the couch to avoid his gaze before continuing, “I’m worried about you. What’s going on?” you look up at him with probably the most adorable look on your face and he’s not sure why, but he crumbles on the spot, he’ll blame the lack of sleep later if this goes poorly for him.

 Folding his arms under his chin, letting his eyes fall closed he mumbles, “It’s your fault anyways,” silently praying you dont hear him but of course you do. 

“How is this my fault?” you bark out with offense, “You’re the one choosing to stay up, besides I know you stay up after you put me to bed.” 

At this, his eyes shoot up, and his face goes beat red. Have you heard him? Oh god, he wishes the floor would swallow him whole at the thought alone. You knew he put you to bed, too? Obviously, you didn’t think you teleported to your bed, but why didn’t you say anything? His heart was in his throat, and his eyes began to sting. This was definitely the exhaustion. He buries his face deeper into the couch, hoping to avoid whatever this is, but of course, you saunter around the couch and crouch down to his level, pushing his hair back with a tentative hand. 

“Gojo…please, just tell me what’s wrong, I can’t stand to see you like this…” your voice barely above a whisper. He mumbles into the couch, tucking his head impossibly further into the cushions. 

“What?” You lean in impossibly closer, and he feels dizzy. God, why were you like this?

His head shoots up from the couch, allowing you too see just how red his face is, blue eyes determined and brows trained down in anger. 

“You’re all I can fucking think about, and it’s killing me!” He huffs out in a single breath. Your eyes go wide, and you bring your hand closer to your chest, leaning back on your heels and putting distance between you two. 

When you speak, your voice is shaky and barely audible, “I-I’m sorry…” Shit, his jaw goes slack, and he can’t seem to find the words when your eyes glitter, threatening to spill over with tears at his sudden outburst. 

“No, fuck, I-I…It’s not your fault. I’m sorry, I just…” He reaches out tentatively, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and rubbing soothing circles into your cheek, searching your eyes for the words that might make this better. He lets out a heavy sigh, looking down again, he thinks to himself fuck it. He looks back up at you, gently urging your head closer to his, “You’re all I can think about. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he lets out a breathy laugh, “I close my eyes to sleep, and all I can see is your cute little pout begging me to share my snacks, or the way you look first thing in the morning, hair a mess and eyes heavy with sleep, when I read I hear you laugh over and over again, that sweet giggle or the roaring laughter that has you rolling on the floor, I think about how you feel pressed into my side, the way I count your heartbeats to keep myself from freaking out cause I’m afraid to wake you. God, I think about how you call me Gojo still despite the fact that we live together cause you’re grossly polite; I just can’t get you out of my head.” His voice trails off at the end as your silence engulfs him in shame, and he can't bear to look you in the eyes anymore. He moves to pull his hand away from you, ready to rot in his room, never escaping his shame again, but instead, you place your much smaller hand over his; your hand is freezing, but his skin feels like it’s on fire. 

“I-I don’t actually fall asleep on movie nights,” you stutter out and he looks at you brows clenched in confusion. “I…I just pretend to sleep so I can get closer to you, a-and that day I stole your shirt? I still had clothes to wear but you left it in my basket and I couldn’t help myself” you mumble out gaze trained on a loose thread in his hoodie. 

He looks at you, blinking in confusion before what you said registers, and a devilish smirk makes its way across his features. 

“You’re a filthy pervert, huh? Sorry, I never would have pegged you for the creepy roommate.” He lets out a hearty laugh as your face goes beat red. 

“Hey, I know about your underwear collection, Satoru, if you play that game.” It's his turn to feel embarrassed as he reaches his uncannily long arms over the edge of the couch, dragging you over the side and settling you to lay on his chest. 

“Say that again sweet girl,” he speaks in a whisper brushing your hair back and staring egregiosuly at your lips. 

“I know about your underwear collection?...Satoru,” You state in a teasing tone, leaning slightly in to his lips. 

He lets out a breathy chuckle before closing the distance and encompassing your lips in a restrained kiss. You let out the smallest whimper, and his grip tightens around your waist as he begins trying to coax your mouth open for him. He presses you against him, relishing in the way you shiver when his warm hand reaches under your shirt, feather-light touches causing you to squeak into his mouth. He wastes no time tracing the edge of your tongue with his slow and deliberate teasing. You reach into his hair, pulling lightly at his hair before pulling your face away from his, looking into his eyes, and pushing the stray hairs back away from his eyes. 

“You’re still grounded; nothing nasty until you sleep, lover boy,” you smile through the words, and Satoru is certain that his heart stopped right then and there. 

“Yeah yeah whatever, going to sleep now,” he says before rolling onto his side, tugging you close to him, burying his nose into your hair, letting his eyes fall closed as his breaths begin to even out, focusing on the way your chest rises and falls against his. For the first time in entirely too long he falls into a deep sleep, clutching tightly to your frame, oh yeah you were in for it when he woke up. 

[ssa-hotchs-heart]

The confession Aaron Hotchner

Summary , The reader tells Hotch how she feels after the case was over she’s very bold in this . I love her for being bold in this , I hope you guys enjoy this one this my first post for this account on here I Spent a couple days on this with editing it an re writing it with how I liked it .

Paring fem!BAU!reader Aaron Hotchner

Category emotional romantic moments vulnerability

Content warning The story contains, emotional vulnerability , mentions of workplace hierarchy romantic tension of boundaries and intimacy Y/N is mentioned

Word count, 1.115k

Author notes Can I add he’s all I’ve been dreaming about lately ?

Please be kind this my first post of Aaron on this page

And I’m excited to share this with you but nervous

You thoughts are welcome but please be kind and please re blog if you like or enjoy.

Request are open I need ideas

The case had ended, the unsub was caught, and justice was served, but you couldn’t shake the weight still pressing on your chest. It wasn’t the gruesome details of the case that kept you awake most nights. It was him. Aaron Hotchner.

He was always in your head—his voice, his presence, the way he carried himself. You thought about him constantly, the way his hand had rested on your shoulder, the warmth that lingered long after he’d pulled away. It was more than admiration; it was longing.

You dreamed about him, vivid, aching dreams where he held you close, where his lips pressed against yours, where he whispered things that made you feel safe and wanted. And in the moments you were awake, your thoughts weren’t much better. You imagined him pulling you into his arms, tilting your chin up so your lips could meet his. You wanted him to see you—not as one of his agents, but as a woman who cared for him deeply.

The walls you had so carefully built around yourself were crumbling, piece by piece, every time he looked at you, every time he said your name in that calm, steady voice. You didn’t want to fight it anymore. You didn’t want to hide behind professionalism and rules. You wanted to let your guard down—for him.

After Spencer’s gentle push, you found yourself pacing outside one of the empty rooms in the Boston field office. You knew this moment would change everything, but you couldn’t let it go unsaid any longer. With trembling hands, you knocked on his office door.

Hotch glanced up from his paperwork. “Y/N? Is everything all right?”

“Can we talk? Privately?” you asked, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay composed.

He nodded, setting his pen down. “Of course.”

You led him into the empty room, closing the door softly behind you. The silence stretched, and your heart pounded in your ears as you turned to face him.

“Sir...” you began, then stopped yourself. No, this wasn’t the time for formalities. You shook your head. “Aaron.” His name felt strange and intimate on your tongue, but it felt right.

His eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“I need to say this,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t get you out of my head. It’s not just admiration or respect—it’s so much more than that. I think about you all the time. The way you carry yourself, the way you care for this team. I dream about you, Aaron. I dream about you holding me, kissing me, being close to me in a way I’ve never let anyone be before.”

His expression softened, but he remained silent, letting you pour your heart out.

“I want to let my guard down for you. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be strong, trying to prove myself, but with you, I just... I don’t want to hide anymore. I need you, Aaron. Not as my boss, but as something more. I know I’m crossing a line by saying this, but I can’t keep pretending that these feelings don’t exist.”

You took a shaky breath, the vulnerability leaving you exposed in a way that terrified you. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, and maybe you don’t feel the same way. But I needed you to know that when I came to you last night, it wasn’t because I just needed anyone. I needed you.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, and his dark eyes searched yours for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he stepped closer, his presence grounding you.

“You’re brave,” he said softly, his voice steady and filled with something you couldn’t quite name. “Braver than I’ve ever given you credit for. And I’m not going to pretend I haven’t felt something, too. I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push it aside because of the job, because of the rules, but... you’re right. This isn’t something we can keep pretending doesn’t exist.”

Your breath caught, hope blooming in your chest.

“Aaron,” you whispered, his name a plead

He reached out, his hand gently brushing your cheek before settling on your face. “You mean more to me than I’ve been willing to admit, even to myself.”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. And when his lips finally met yours, it was everything you had dreamed of—soft, warm, and filled with unspoken emotion.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured. “But I need you to know that I’m here for you, not just as your boss but as someone who cares about you more than I probably should.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they were tears of relief, of joy. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on your chest lifted, and you allowed yourself to hope for something more.

@hoe4hotchner

[nonbinairyboi]

Nothing Left: Chapter 6

Fic Summary: You hadn’t spoken in years. Technically, you had the ability to, though as the years wore on, you weren’t so sure. You’d settled in Jackson over a year ago and now it was fall again. You are drawn towards Ellie and her ‘not-dad’, but you had always assumed any relationships deeper than surface level were beyond you at this point.

Chapter Summary: Eugene comes over to help with pain relief.

Pairing: Joel Miller x nonbinary!Reader/OC (afab, short hair, tall, dimples, has multiple nicknames but none are their name)

Word Count: ~2.3k

A/N: The poll on whether I should do a masterlist or chapter by chapter of ASL signs or a combo was mixed, so I think I'll do a combo! I am hoping to work on that this week and also going back and editing some small mistakes in previous chapters as well. I really appreciate the comments and interactions I have been getting. It really motivates me, so that you!

Series Warnings: This is my first fanfic and I plan to go into some dark stuff including some in-depth discussion of SA that was done to the main character (not by Joel) and the mental impact it has. I am unsure if I will be writing smut as I never have before but I will update the warnings if that changes. There definitely will be allusions to smut if nothing else, so MINORS DNI!

MAIN MASTERLIST

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Talk of injuries. Concussion recovery. Weed… does that need a warning?

Chapter 6

When you woke up next you were alone. You could hear someone moving around the kitchen, pots clanging in that way that you were sure only happens when someone is trying to be quiet and the cutlery refuses.

The sunlight streaming through the window was slightly dimmer than before. Sitting up, you grabbed onto the furniture as you made your way to the window. Clouds that foretold rain soon hung in the sky, partially obscuring the sun. You gave up trying to estimate what time of day it was and began the walk out of the room. 

As if the creaking of your door was as loud as a car alarm, startled steps quickly made their way to you. Maria rounded the corner and looked about to scold you for being up without help. You quickly raised your hands in surrender, pointed toward the bathroom and signed ‘bathroom’ for good measure. Maria didn’t speak despite looking like she wanted to, and nodded for you to continue, retreating again around the corner. 

You resisted the urge this time to look in the mirror as you washed your hands. Your vision felt a little blurrier than normal and you knew that if you looked now, your brain would fill in the blanks of your eyes with more gruesome images than were truly there. Opening the door, you jumped a bit at Maria’s figure outside of the door. You hadn’t heard her come back.

”You aren’t getting off that easily. You need to let us help you.” Maria said disapprovingly. “Ask next time.”

You raised your eyebrows in a light challenge and signed ‘how?’ with a deadpan look.

Maria let out a puff of laughter and said “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find you a cowbell to hang around your neck.”

Laughing in surprise, you let Maria help you towards the kitchen. 

“I was just heating up a little of the soup I made the other day,” Maria explained. “Could I get you to eat a little? I could make you some more tea as well.”

You nodded in reply as you were helped into your seat. You could hear babbling coming from the living room and Maria excused herself, coming back with Oliver on her hip. 

You spent the next twenty minutes slowly taking spoonfuls of soup in between sips of tea and trying to keep it down as you smiled at the baby who was slowly becoming ‘milk drunk’. Maria took the baby to put him down for a nap and you cupped your hands around the new cup of tea that Maria had given you, warming your hands by curling them around the mug. 

You wondered how different life would have been if you had somehow been able to have been pregnant in Jackson now instead of Illinois back then. Would the birth have been easier? Would people have searched for and made you supplies as they had for Maria? Would Grace have liked it here?

Your nose burned as you tried to keep back the tears that threatened to show themselves in the gloomy afternoon.  If Grace was here, if the baby was here, you would have chosen a different home. A bigger one. And in your daydream, the vastness didn’t scare you. A different timeline. A different universe. Quantum Mechanics and string theory and all that jazz.

You inhaled through your nose in surprise as a knocking sounded at the door.

You heard a muffled, sing-song ”Don’t you dare get it! I am on my way!” from Maria and laughed to yourself, pulling yourself back to the current place and timeline you resided in. 

The door creaked open and you heard Maria say “Eugene! …What a lovely smell… Follow me.”

Chuckling, you turned in your chair so you were facing the entrance, smiling as wide as you could without hurting yourself as Eugene came into view.

Maria stood between the two of you with her hands on her hips.

”I’m not going to say anything,” She began. “But please only outside. And be discreet if you could. I have no problems with what you do, but I don’t want it getting around to the teenagers. I have enough on my hands when the parents complain about contraband liquor as it is.”

”Yes ma’am.” Eugene said, saluting her and making her crack a smile. 

“And if Tommy comes home, don’t let him have too much. I need help around here.” Maria comments. 

You smirked as Maria helped you up and into your coat before handing you over to Eugene.

“I gotcha, never fear old grasshopper.” Eugene mumbled to you as you went out back, causing you to smack him across the chest with the back of your arm. “I know, I know, I’m older, but for once I feel like the younger one with how wobbly you are. Oof-” You smacked him again as he helped you onto the bench on the back deck. 

Once settled, you closed your eyes and took a breath in to try to keep on top of the pain coursing through you. You heard the clink of metal and glass and looked over to see Eugene packing a bowl next to you. 

“Still don’t look like you’re feeling great.” Eugene commented. “I was hoping you’d be in better shape after you rested, but no offense, you look worse now.”

You scoffed in reply, focusing your eyes to the backyard. Playfully, you signed ‘same’ back at him. 

“Touché.” Eugene said, holding up the now packed bowl to you. You took it and inhaled as he lit a match and lit the bowl for you. Taking a few deep inhales, you passed it back to him and, after a moment, exhaled. 

It was silent for a few minutes as you passed it back and forth. You were grateful at how content Eugene was in silence, despite his talkative nature. He never made you feel pressured to communicate, but he had also tried harder than anyone else to learn as many signs as possible. Because of this, he knew more about you personally than you had communicated with any other person since you stopped talking, though he only shared it with your permission. He had built it naturally, asking how to do basic signs that would be helpful on patrol and around town before moving to more personal signs about family and locations. At this point, he could hold conversations with you, but he never pressured you to hold up your end. He seemed to understand that communication in general was vulnerable, even though it was helpful. 

“They might pair me with Joel while you heal. Won’t be the same on patrol.” Eugene noted. “I’ll have to see how easily he can be persuaded to stop by my garden on the way so I can check up on my babies. Otherwise, we might find ourselves in a situation with this” Eugene indicated the weed that he was grinding for a second bowl. “Maybe if I mention that it would be helpful to you he would give in easier” Eugene said, wiggling his eyebrows.

You were puzzled by his meaning and tapped him, asking ‘what?’. 

“Could be nothing. Never you mind” Eugene muttered, focused on his task. As he packed the second bowl, you leaned on his shoulder, needing support for a moment. Eugene was kind enough not to draw attention to it and simply kept going with his work. “I brought some brownies too so you can have them when I’m not here. They taste like shit but they’ll do the job.”

You were both startled by the creaking of a door behind you and whipped your heads around, with some pain on your part, to see a surly-looking Joel step outside. 

After glancing between the two of you for a moment, he asked “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.” Eugene expressed at the same time as you signed ‘of course.’

Joel pulled up a deck chair a little closer to where the two of you were huddled.

”We were just talking about you actually. But now that you are joining, I feel more confident that you’ll let me take care of my flowers out on patrol while Charlie heals.” Eugene said.

Joel glanced your way before he said “As long as it don’t take too long. I don’t like being late back since I’ve got Ellie.”

”I wouldn’t dream of putting you behind schedule,” Eugene said, winking and lighting the bowl and inhaling before passing it to Joel.

Joel was silent as he smoked before meeting your eyes purposefully and handing you the bowl. You nodded in thanks and savored the burn on your inhale.You continued passing it around in relative silence. 

“How’s the headache?” Joel asked.

You signed ‘a little better now’ and pointed to the weed. Eugene interpreted what you had said to Joel.

“How did you learn that?” Joel inquired a few moments later.

“They were close with their cousin growing up, who was Deaf.” Eugene replied for you, having learned a while ago.

Joel nodded in acknowledgment and turned to Eugene. “How’d you learn?”

“Patience, time, and lots of questions.” Eugene replied. 

You let out an involuntary giggle, thinking about how awkward it had been at first at times. Both men turned their eyes to you.

“Looks like the meds may be working, Doctor.” Joel drawled, causing both you and Eugene to start laughing. 

Eugene stared at Joel for a moment after everyone got themselves under control.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” Eugene said.

“You don’t know me very well.” A more relaxed Joel replied. 

“Guess that’s true.”

“So, can you teach me some basics?” Joel asked.

You nodded your head a little more enthusiastically than you had intended and ended up clutching your head in regret.

“Easy, tiger!” Eugene exclaimed as you waved him off. “Why don’t we start with ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to prevent further injury?”

You turned to Joel slowly and demonstrated ‘yes’ and ‘no’ a few times, urging him to mimic you as he said the words aloud. You realized that you were a little higher than you would have liked for this endeavor when Eugene asked “What next?” and you signed ‘weed’ in reply, making even Joel chuckle, the meaning being obvious. 

You spent the next 15 minutes laughing as you tried to think of more useful signs to teach Joel, with Eugene chiming in with a few phrases and words he felt were important, notably ‘bar’ ‘beer’ and ‘whiskey’. Joel couldn’t quite get ‘whiskey’ as you generally finger spelled it and it was clear the alphabet would take him a while. 

The fall chill had started to set in and when a few drops started to fall from the sky, you all moved inside, Eugene grabbing your arm and moving you inside to the couch, where you continued to try to teach the alphabet to Joel despite how high you were. Joel sat on the chair to your left and Eugene sat on the couch facing yours. Forgetting your normal boundaries when it came to touch, you reached out and grabbed Joel’s hand, helping him form ‘g’ and then ‘h’. Realizing what you had done, you glanced up and met Joel’s eyes, scared that you had overstepped. He looked surprised, but not angry or annoyed. You slowly smiled at him while retracting your hands, glancing at Eugene for support, who looked like he was holding back a laugh. 

You drew your brows together in question, but before Eugene could reply or Joel could turn to see what you were looking at, the sound of the front door opening drew all of your attention. You turned to see a slightly soggy Ellie slamming the door shut, at which Joel exclaimed “Hey! Don’t slam the door. The baby could have been sleeping!”

Ellie paused for dramatic affect and looked around before replying “Doesn’t sound like I woke him up. Also, why are you here?”

Eugene chuckled and patted Joel’s back. “Hand’s full with that one, huh?”

Joel grunted his assent as Ellie plopped down beside you and then sniffed you.

“You smell weird.” She said, wrinkling her nose. 

Joel coughed. “Ellie, it ain’t kind to comment on how people smell.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows and all three adults in the room tried in vain to hold back smiles. Ellie looked confused and said “Adults are so weird.”

Joel went back to staring at his hands, trying to go through signs he remembered.

“Hey! Did you get to start learning without me? No fair!” Ellie exclaimed once she noticed Joel’s movements.

Eugene chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll teach you both. They usually start with a spiel about how they don’t know everything and their grammar isn’t perfect, but I’ll save you guys the time and tell you now.” Eugene then turned to you. “How’d I do?”

You playfully glared at him before signing ‘fine’ with a smile.

Joel and Eugene went through some of the basics with Ellie that they had been over already, skipping over ‘bar’ and ‘weed’ for now, before turning to you for the alphabet.

You were starting to get tired again by the time everyone was getting to the letter ‘f’. 

‘I’m tired, I’m sorry’ you signed and Eugene interpreted. You noticed both Joel and Ellie slowly copying those signs as well.

“Of course. We’ll get out of your hair.” Joel replied, standing up.

“Wait!” Ellie said “Do you have pictures anywhere? I don’t know how I’m going to remember all of these without you.”

‘I have a book.’ You signed ‘Only 1.’

Once Eugene had loosely translated what you had signed, Ellie perked up.

“I like drawing.” She said timidly. “Maybe you could help me and I could draw some from the book too? I could make some extra copies in case anyone else wants to learn.”

Ellie’s words touched you deeply and you felt your eyes well up. You took a moment to breathe to stop yourself from openly crying, especially since Ellie seemed to be turning red already in embarrassment.

‘Yes’ you signed. ‘I’d like that.’

Taglist:

@powellssaturn

@silas-aeiou

[dumbkiri]

𝕆𝕦𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀʟʟ

[Name] Jaeger was present for the fall of Shiganshina. She saved many lives of the mass, but couldn't save her own mother. Despite all that, she was charged for abandonment by a Garrison official named Woerman.

ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Leave a request in my inbox, comment down below for more! I'm going through some and editing as we speak. Series do come first though!

Dear Eren,

In a week’s time, I will be heading outside the walls. When I do I have to tell you the story about Captain Levi and how he saved me from five titans! One day, I’ll make sure to introduce you to him, wouldn’t that be amazing? Would I be the best sibling then?

Anyways that’s not why I am addressing you. I got a very angry letter from mom saying that you wanted to join the Scouts and follow in my footsteps. She warned me that if I don’t stop those “reckless” ideas from forming she would personally drag me off my horse by my ear the next time she sees me to give me a lecture. Surely my ears would fall off for two different reasons! 

So little brother, what makes you want to join the Scouts? Aren’t my stories of the outside world enough for you? It’s beautiful out there,but Eren, you do not want to venture outside the walls. Not now. The way it is, you won’t be able to survive. 

Titans are exceptional beings that are made and subjected to eating humans. You do not want to see that, I promise you. I have seen plenty of my comrades die in front of me. And I know you have seen the men and women come back with gruesome injuries before. Most don’t make it back home. 

I apologize if this scares you, but that’s the point. The world is a cruel and scary place. You know nothing about it and I’m trying my best to keep you hopeful. But titans are ten times bigger and stronger than you all. 

I know what that helpless feeling feels like. I almost lost my life until Captain Levi saved me from an awful death. You don’t want to see what a titan can do to a person you love. 

With that being said, Eren, you should enjoy the peace in your life right now. Hug mom more often, treat Mikasa nicer, fight harder for Armin and dad? Well you know how he can be sometimes. 

He loves us though. He loves all of us, that’s why he keeps fighting. It’s why I keep fighting. I will do everything in my power to keep my family safe this time that includes little Mikasa. 

I’ll see you soon, Eren. Give mom a big hug for me, will you? And tell her that I love her too. 

Sincerely, [Name] Jaeger

This was Eren’s fifth time rereading the letter his older sister sent him. And today was the day he, along with his mother and Mikasa, were going to send [Name] off with a good luck goodbye. He was going to see her again! This was really the only time he got to spend with her. Before she was sent out of the walls to go exploring. 

But something was different today. There was a knock at the door and his mother approached it with a giant smile on her face and a pep to her step. He slightly pouted wondering why she was like that when not even a minute ago she had scolded him about joining the Survey Corps again. 

Then his eyes widened in surprise when he saw who exactly was at the door. His smile is uncontainable just like his mother’s. “[Name]! You’re home!” He shouted happily as he ran to his sister and jumped into her awaiting hug. 

“Eren, it’s nice to see you again,” Her voice was just a tad bit softer than their mother’s. Her arms squeezed him in a tight hug as she laughed about his struggle to breathe through it all. 

“He couldn’t even wait for me to greet you,” Carla sighed and [Name] dropped Eren on the floor as she went to hug her mom. The women laughed about something [Name] had said and Eren blushed when his sister teased him about his excitement for seeing her. 

Then a question popped into his head, “Shouldn’t you be gone already? The bells should be ringing any time soon! What if you-”

[Name] looked down at Eren with a gentle smile on her face, “Calm down, Eren. I was given the day off today to speak with Commander Pixis about…politics. Really boring stuff, I tell you.” Eren could see that his sister was just trying to change the subject. 

“Oh yeah! I promised Hanji and Levi that I would introduce my kid siblings to them on their way out! Say that you two wanna tag along!” [Name] shouted enthusiastically, her hands on her hips with a proud stance. She knew her brother would be stoked to see his idol and his reaction proved to be correct. 

“No way, really! I can meet Captain Levi!” Eren shouted back with the same amount of glee in his voice. His sister nodded her head and gestured outside where a big black horse was standing in a prideful manner waiting for his rider. 

Mikasa awed at the sight of the horse before quickly reverting back to her state of neutrality. This was noticed by both of her female guardians and Carla, despite being against the idea of her son joining the Scouts, allowed for this to happen. 

“Be safe out there and listen to [Name], got it?” She asked the children with a stern voice and both of them nodded their heads. 

[Name] gave a quick kiss on her mom’s cheek and bid her farewell saying, “We’ll be back before supper! I missed your cooking so much!” 

Carla laughed and waved her kids off, “Don’t worry, I’ll make plenty for you to take back to your friends too.” The woman closed the door and [Name] laid her hands on the small backs of her siblings. She led them to the calm and quiet horse that patiently waited. 

“Let’s do this, yeah?” 

Eren watched as [Name] effortlessly picked up Mikasa and sat her in front of the horse’s back with her hands gripping tightly on the silver colored mane. Then [Name] swung herself onto the saddle with a huff steadying Mikasa so she wouldn’t fall. 

Eren stepped closer to the black horse and set his hand on the strong hip, petting it softly. “He’s very pretty, [Name],” Eren complimented and the horse trotted in place with a proud neigh. He looked at his sister who extended her hand out to him, “Reaper says thank you for the compliment.” 

He knew his sister was strong, but to pull his weight on top of the horse was cool. She used to be so weak back then, but the military must have changed her strength. He was placed behind his sister with his hands clenching on her brown jacket that had the Survey Corps emblem on the back. 

“Alright, kids! Hold on tight! Reaper will lose you in the dust if you fall!” [Name] joked lightheartedly and pulled the reins for her horse to go running to where the citizens meet up with the Scouts. 

This had to be the best day for Eren, he thought.

……

Hanji was patiently waiting. At least, that’s what she thought she was doing. But her legs couldn’t stop shaking from anticipation. She couldn’t possibly wait to be introduced to her best friend’s siblings! She casually looked to her right and saw her comrade, Levi Ackerman, looking around the crowd that formed on the sides of the path. 

His eyes flicked from person to person as if he was waiting to see a specific person. 

She wanted to tease him, but first she had to pull him in. 

“Aww, I’m gonna miss [Name] on this expedition!” Hanji pouted as she hung her head back in exasperation.  Then she straightened out her back and she shouted ahead of her comrades, “Hey Erwin! Why did you let [Name] have to speak to Commander Pixis! It literally could’ve been anyone else in this regiment!”

“Shut it, four-eyes. You’re already giving me a headache.”

Hanji looked to the right and saw Levi giving her a glare already. She smiled and pulled her horse to get closer to Levi’s. “Come on, I know you feel the same, Levi. I know you were looking at the crowd to see the familiar [h.color] hair and beautiful [e.color] eyes. I noticed how close the two of you have been-” 

“You’re annoying as ever,” Levi grumbled looking away with a scoff of irritation. 

Hanji opened her mouth to retort, but she heard her name being called out with excitement. She whipped her body around as best as she could and saw a woman waving at her with a giant smile. 

“Hange~! Levi~!” 

Her energetic voice was loud as ever and it brought a smile to the crazy scientist’s face. Then Hanji focused on the kid [Name] brought with her. There was a little girl with long black hair sitting in front of her with stone cold eyes. 

Hange recalled that her younger sister went through a lot of trauma as a kid, but they didn’t know how much. The little girl’s eyes reminded them of Levi’s. 

The citizens made way for the giant horse [Name] rode on and Reaper casually walked in between Hange’s and Levi’s horses. Upon meeting, the two black horses nudged their faces against each other as their greeting while the humans greeted each other. 

“[Name]! I thought you would never come! Both Levi and I were searching for you!” Hange shouted and immediately took notice of hands holding onto [Name]’s vest. “Oh and who is this?” 

Hange leaned backwards and saw a boy with brown hair and very pretty teal eyes look at her with a certain shyness in them. 

“Hange, Levi, this is my little brother, Eren! Levi, he’s your biggest fan!” [Name] gleamed and pulled a nervous Eren to the front, his bottom resting on her left thigh while Mikasa rested on the right one. 

The boy and the man were face to face with each other. Levi being taller on his horse was glaring down at Eren with his neutral look on his face. 

“H-hello…sir, I mean, captain!” Eren stuttered out then shoved his face into [Name]’s chest with a quaking smile. Mikasa noticed that Eren was a bit out of his comfort zone and she glared at Levi for the stare he directed at Eren. 

Hange laughed and jeered, “Geez, Levi, would it kill you to smile? Hey, Eren, I heard you wanted to join the Scouts!” 

This made Eren pick his head up and with a smile, he nodded his head, “Yes, I do! I want to see what’s beyond the walls!” His smile went away and with gloom, said, “These stuffy walls…we’re just like cattle stuck in here waiting for the titans to pick us off.” 

“Oh,” Hange said softly and looked at [Name] for some continuation. 

“Yeah, Eren, is determined to join the ranks. But mom is strictly against the idea for obvious reasons,” [Name] drawled out and she moved onto the next topic. 

“Anyways, this is our sister, Mikasa Ackerman. She is very protective of our Eren which should be my job, but hey! Can’t always be there!” [Name] laughed and Levi caught on to her last name. 

“Ackerman?” His eyes lingered on the foreign girl and she nodded her head slowly. They both had the same last name, but didn’t know who connected them to each other. 

[Name] watched Levi carefully waiting for more of a reaction than the one of curiosity. Then she continued, “These two love to get into fights with other children. Mikasa is super strong and fast while Eren is very determined! He never knows when to quit!” 

Levi hummed in response and focused on the task ahead. He had to get his head back into the game of this cruel world. It was a good thing [Name] wasn’t joining them today. Hanji was right about them getting closer in a relationship. 

He didn’t want a distraction on the field and this mission prolongs his feelings for the woman. But when he glanced at her from the side, holding those children in her arms protectively with a smile on her face while talking to Hanji made him question his life with her. 

Could they- No, could anyone in the Scouts have a family knowing that they could die outside the walls and never come back? Was it possible to protect one another from the titans? 

He couldn’t even protect his friends. Isabel barely made it with [Name]’s help. Even he didn’t know how the two of them survived the abnormal titan. 

“[Name] tells me about the outside all the time, but really! How is it?” Eren asked with enthusiasm that broke through his shy shell. Hange laughed at his question and opened her mouth to respond, but Levi beat her to it with his soft voice. 

“It’s beautiful out there.” 

This silenced the three loud people as they looked at him with shocked expressions. But Eren was the first to break the silence as his hands clenched in anticipation, “It really is, isn’t it? I want to see it! I want to see it all!” 

Levi’s eyes widened for a fraction seeing the pretty eyes that belonged to Eren remind him of Isabel. Even his attitude that [Name] spoke of reminded him of the red haired woman. 

“Just be patient, Eren,” [Name] said with a gentle voice and a certain sadness in her eyes. Hange and Levi knew that look all too well. [Name] had a point in saying that the boy needed patience. Not everyone was willing to sacrifice their life just to see what was beyond the walls. She wanted to keep his innocence in place. 

Levi looked from [Name]’s face over to her brother, he said, “You’re sister is right, brat. Enjoy the life you have now before you dedicate it to the Scouts.”

Then the five of them shot their heads forward when Erwin began his speech for the next expedition. Levi and Hanji shifted in their saddle while [Name] put her siblings back into their respective places. 

Levi heard [Name] whisper to her siblings, “That is Commander Erwin, he’s very motivational. Do you guys wanna feel the rush of riding beside the Scouts?” 

“Yes, I do!” Eren whispered with excitement and Levi rolled his eyes. This kid was a different breed for sure. 

“Okay, hold on tight and make sure to give Hanji and Levi the best “see you later”.” 

See you later? Not a goodbye. 

Levi looked ahead with a newfound motive. That’s right, he’s coming back to see her smile. To hear her imaginative stories of the outside wall that were lucrative to speak of. 

The gates opened up and everyone began riding out to their mission. The five of them rode next to each other for another 30 seconds until [Name] stopped her horse at the entrance. He kept his eyes forward while hearing the voice of Eren Jaeger shouting at them. 

His voice was surprisingly louder than the horses running. 

“Hanji! Levi! We’ll see you later! Mom has the best food waiting for you!” 

Hanji turned around with a smile on her face as she waved at them, her horse continuing to make the distance bigger, 

“See ya guys later! I can’t wait to taste it!” 

Levi split off from Hanji and his squad followed closely behind him. He already said his ‘see you later’ to [Name] earlier. But he must admit that Eren’s was a bit better with that childlike excitement in his voice. 

Little did he know, Levi would come back hearing that the town his friend lived in with her family was destroyed by titans. The terrifying news the bearer held was enough to make him charge straight into Shiganshina to see the destruction. 

…… 

“A fucking hole made by a Titan that was bigger than the walls breached?” Levi questioned angrily, not believing a single word the messengers relay to them. 

He stood among Erwin Smith and Hange Zoe along with their respective squad mates. 

“Y-yessir! It came down with a single strike of lightning and it peered over the wall! Then it just kicked a hole in and titans started coming through!” 

Erwin Smith hummed and stepped up, “What about the Scout that was left behind. She was ordered to speak with Commander Pixis about the Garrison Regiment.” 

The lead messenger nodded his head, “Y-yeah, of course! You’re talking about [Name] Jaeger! She granted the civilians of Shiganshina a lot of time by killing the first titans that came through! But then…” 

The messenger stopped and thought about his words. The silence was enough to stop the heart of Hange as she grabbed the soldier by the shoulders, “Hey, don’t stop in the middle of explaining like that! She’s not dead!” 

The soldier said a small ‘okay’ then resumed his sentence, “But then her family was in danger. She abandoned her post and left to save them. I heard that her mother was terribly injured and her kid siblings just weren’t strong enough to help her…I-I don’t know the whole story. But she’s being held accountable for abandonment.” 

“How much time did she grant the civilians?” 

Erwin’s question stunted the man and his blue eyes were hauntingly glaring at the messenger. 

“H-huh?”

“He asked how much time did she give the people to escape? How many shitty titans did she kill by herself?” Levi reiterated in his own words. 

The lead messenger looked back at his colleague and they brought out a piece of paper. Their eyes scanning over the account of witnesses and Garrison soldiers about the woman who wore wings on her back. 

“[Name] Jaeger gave a whole seven minutes and 19 seconds of time to run away. She proceeded to kill 27 titans by herself and assisted the Garrison soldiers with many more. Yet she abandoned her post and left an abnormal Titan to burst through the interior wall which she could have stopped.” 

The Scouts were silent with the account. 

Levi huffed out in annoyance, “You’re telling me, she helped the Garrison soldiers fight and reduced the amount of lives lost only for you guys to put the blame on her for another abnormal Titan bashing in? Isn’t it the job of the Garrison to help evacuate citizens? Why wasn’t anyone helping her family?”

“No disrespect to you all, but you guys weren’t there. The silence that engulfed Shiganshina…the cries of terror after the hole was created…the titans walking- The fear was enough to stun us!” 

“Not enough to stun [Name] Jaeger,” Erwin spoke up with his naturally deep voice, “it seems to me she was the only one who responded accordingly to an attack. She’s not a Garrison Soldier, but she did the job of one. Explain to me why that is.” He demanded the shorter man before him and the messenger shook his head. 

“I’m not sure why,” The man said quietly nervously looking at the intense eyes Erwin had that made him submit to an actual answer, “M-maybe because she’s braver than me, okay! Maybe I was afraid of losing my life! She’s used to seeing titans, she’s a Scout for crying out loud and one of the best! I’m just a messenger, I never fought a real titan and she has that experience!” 

“She was amazing out there,” The second messenger, the one with the witness statements, said out loud for the scouts to hear. The female continued on with a certain spark in her eyes, “[Name] Jaeger had killed so easily that it looked like anyone could do it. She gave me the confidence to kill two titans by myself even with my heart racing in fear. But when I stopped, she didn’t, she continued onward and she thanked me…me for helping her out even though I only killed two.” 

Hanji smiled softly and said, “Yeah, that’s what she does best. She lets you know that you did good even if you don’t think the same of yourself. But please, tell me why the Garrison is charging her for abandonment, but none of you are facing the same consequence.” 

The female looked at her partner and she sighed, “Captain Woermann is the one charging her because he believes she could have stopped the second titan from blowing another hole.”

Erwin hummed and asked the woman, “Do you think he’s right?” 

“No,” she shook her head, “ the cannons did nothing to stop the second titan. It had armor all over his body. I’m one hundred percent sure that her blades couldn’t have pierced through the plates at all.”

The topic changed immediately when Levi asked an important question that can change the charges against his friend, “Was anyone with her when she tried to save her family?”

The woman’s eyes widened and she nodded her head, “Y-yeah, actually, it was Hannes.” 

The male messenger rolled his eyes and scoffed, catching the attention of the scouts. 

“What’s with that reaction,” Levi questioned, his eyes narrowing into a glare. 

“Hannes is a drunk,” the man replied with a sneer, “all he did early in the day was drink with his buddies. That man can’t guard shit and-” 

“Good,” Erwin smiled and looked at Levi and Hanji, “that’s good. We can use his story to get [Name] out of her trial without any punishments given.”

[raysources]

𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐒  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒     —     a collection of one - liners taken from various songs on one of my ships’ playlists.   slightly edited for clarity.   change pronouns as necessary.

❛  to  tell  you  is  too  scary ,   so  i’ll  just  say  something  else .  ❜ ❛  what  the  hell  do  i  have  to  lose ?  ❜ ❛  i  wanna  get  stuck  in  your  head .  ❜ ❛  i  think  that  i  should  probably  tell  you  this  in  case  there  is  an  accident  and  i  never  see  you  again .  ❜ ❛  maybe  i  won’t  ever  say  what’s  in  my  head .  ❜ ❛  am  i  pretty  now ?  ❜ ❛  am  i  pretty  enough  to  lie  to ?  ❜ ❛  say  my  name  like  a  slur ,   but  i’ve  been  called  worse .  ❜ ❛  am  i  pretty  enough  to  love  back ?  ❜ ❛  maybe  i’m  in  love .  ❜ ❛  oh  my  god ,  if  i  tell  him ,   he’ll  tell  her ,   and  then  she  will  know  i  like  her .  ❜ ❛  i  don’t  think  that  i  can  take  this  heartbreak  any  longer .   ❜ ❛  i  will  not  hold  it  in .  ❜ ❛  you  never  even  knew  about  the  heartache  i  was  going  through .  ❜ ❛  we  could  be  happy ,   can’t  you  see ?  ❜ ❛   you’re  not  a  monster ,   just  a  human .  ❜ ❛   you’re  not  gruesome ,  just  human ,  and  you  made  a  few  mistakes .   ❜ ❛  i  am  broken  down  in  shame .  ❜ ❛  i  believe  that  you  will  see  a  better  day .  ❜ ❛  i  don’t  wanna  know  i’m  not  capable  of  coming  out  alive .  ❜ ❛  i  mean  every  word  i  say .  ❜ ❛  you  love  me ,   but  you  don’t  know  it  yet .  ❜ ❛  everything  is  just  an  accident .  ❜ ❛  if  i  never  laid  eyes  on  you ,   would  i  feel  something  missing ?   ❜ ❛  if  you  never  laid  eyes  on  me ,   would  you  know  something’s  gone ?  ❜ ❛  let’s  just  live  in  the  afterglow .  ❜ ❛  ever  think ,   what  if  we  never  met ?  ❜ ❛  i  was  always  alone  until  you  came  along .  ❜ ❛  i  think  i  like  you  maybe  more  than  i  should .  ❜ ❛  with  you ,   i  just  can’t  shut  up .  ❜ ❛  you  are  my  favorite  drug .  ❜ ❛  you’re  perfect  in  the  way  that  you  are .  ❜ ❛  compassion  always  set  you  apart .  ❜ ❛  you  are  worth  the  trouble  to  keep .  ❜ ❛  you  and  i  will  always  belong .  ❜ ❛  she  doesn’t  get  your  humor  like  i  do .   ❜ ❛  she’ll  never  know  your  story  like  i  do .  ❜ ❛  what  you’re  looking  for  has  been  here  the  whole  time .  ❜ ❛  you  belong  with  me .  ❜ ❛  i  can’t  help  thinking  this  is  how  it  ought  to  be .  ❜ ❛  you’ve  got  a  smile  that  can  light  up  this  whole  town .  ❜ ❛  have  you  ever  thought  just  maybe ,   you  belong  with  me ?  ❜ ❛  do  you  feel  like  me ?  ❜ ❛  how  are  your  lungs ?     are  they  in  pain ?  ❜ ❛  would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  fall  in  love  with  me ?  ❜ ❛  i  know  you  know  that  i  like  you .  ❜ ❛  i  like  you ,   but  that’s  not  enough .  ❜ ❛  let’s  swap  chests  today .   ❜ ❛  please  fall  in  love  with  me .  ❜ ❛  will  i  ever  learn ?  ❜ ❛  how  can  i  resist  ya ?  ❜ ❛  why  did  i  ever  let  you  go ?  ❜ ❛  you  know  that  i’m  not  that  strong .  ❜ ❛  goodbye  doesn’t  mean  forever .  ❜ ❛  i  like  you  but  not  that  way .  ❜ ❛  i  just  think  that  you’re  cute .  ❜ ❛  on  you ,   i  have  been  sold .  ❜ ❛  you  made  my  life  happy  once  again .  ❜ ❛  it’s  you  i  wanna  be  around .  ❜ ❛  i’ve  been  waiting  for  a pretty  face  to  walk  right  through  the  door ,   but  now  i’ve  found :   you  came  in  through  the  window .   ❜ ❛  you’re  the  person  that  i  love  to  see .  ❜ ❛  it’s  always  sunny  with  you .  ❜ ❛  i’ve  been  waiting  for  a  girl  like  you  for  a  while .  ❜ ❛  you’re  the  only  thing  that’s  making  me  smile .  ❜ ❛  i  know  that  he  loves  me .  ❜ ❛  he’s  no  romeo .  ❜ ❛  pull  yourself  together .  ❜ ❛  after  you  leave ,   i’ll  be  so  alright  it’s  true .   ❜ ❛  how  could  i  ever  be  so  dumb  to  believe  i’d  be  the  one  you  would  adore ?  ❜ ❛  i  wanna  be  with  you .  ❜ ❛  i  wanna  be  with  you  all  the  time .  ❜ ❛  i  wanna  be  loved  by  you  every  night .  ❜ ❛  i  guess  god  wants  us  apart  for  heaven’s  sake .  ❜ ❛   show  me  all  the  dark  parts  of  your  mind .  ❜

 ​

[lily-blackstone]

Blood-Soaked Love

General!Lilia Vanrouge x Human General!Reader (Gender not mentioned)

Note: I wrote this shit like nearly a year ago probably and it's been sitting in my notes ever since so here's a slightly edited version hahaajajahjajakksbdhdjsksk

Description: Under the cover of darkness, only there can you embrace you lover. And there, you must end his life as well.

After all, as a General in the Human army, your loyalty to your race reigned above all else in your life. And to think you valued anything, even your lover, more, was nothing but a lie to yourself.

The leaves crunched softly under your feet as you walked towards your destination. It was late, having passed midnight hours ago.

You should've been asleep in your tent, catching up on some much needed rest during this small unspoken truce after the dust of war had settled for the night. The battle was unusually gruesome, both sides suffering heavy losses.

You suspected that if everything went as it should've, the next day would have no fighting, perhaps one or two small skirmishes at most but no full scale battle.

That is, as previously stated, if everything went as it should've.

But unfortunately, things would not go as they should've under normal circumstances.

Because the circumstances of your relationship with General Lilia Vanrouge were anything but normal.

Of course, the two of you just couldn't be what everyone else thought you to be. What you should be. You two couldn't y'know, absolutely despise eachother. View the other with nothing but pure malice and hatred for what each of you had done to the other. But of course, you just couldn't be normal about eachother.

Nonono, you guys just had to have a 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳 after things got sidetracked during what should've been a very tense and formal meeting to arrange a truce. Why? Because a year before said truce and a year before the war, you two just 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to happen to run into eachother while undercover and then somehow accidentally help eachother and then share both of your first kisses-

So you guys just 𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗼 be in a secret relationship for the past 3 months since that little meeting.

Seeing eachother only late at night under the cover of darkness, having to always be a hundred percent sure that absolutely 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 saw the two of you together.

Recently though, your meetings have been less and less frequent. From at least once a week to thrice a month if you were lucky. Confrontations in the battlefield were incredibly rare and both of you worked hard to ensure it stayed that way.

But, the decrease in your midnight randevouz's were to be expected. The war was getting desperate. Supplies, morale and manpower slowly beginning to dwindle on both sides meant everyone was desperate for a victory.

Including you.

And what you were planning to do tonight was precisely the reason why you were sure the unspoken truce would not last.

And so, as you stepped into the small clearing, your eyes locking with the man you'd grown love; a silence of mutual understanding enveloped the area. Not even the chirping of owls could be heard. Not a single animal, nor the trees dared to make a sound. Only the wind swept past, as if gently chiding you both to reconsider, or perhaps it was simply waiting in anticipation.

After what felt like an eternity, you stepped forward.

Lilia said nothing, only staring up at the moon as you sat down beside him, leaning against the tree he was under. The two of you sat in silence for a few more seconds before Lilia spoke up "The moon looks beautiful tonight, don't you agree?"

Gazing up at the full moon, you found it to be quite beautiful as he had said. "It is indeed."

Silence again.

Though, none of the silences were uncomfortable. But they were not comfortable either. Rather, they were... How do I put it? Ah, the calm before the storm. Both of you knew what was on the other's mind. You both knew what was coming, what had to be done. And yet, you both wished desperately in your heart for the opposite.

But unfortunately, the world was unkind. It was merciless. It had no obligation to listen to the whims of two people, so why would it?

Eventually, you stood up. Placing a hand on the hilt of your sword, you unsheathed it. "Lilia, I think it's time we ended this little game of ours" This stupid pathetic game of playing hide and seek with the rest of the world, trying desperately to somehow save a relationship which was doomed to fail from the very beginning.

Lilia stood up, unsheathing his sword as well. The two of you faced eachother, looking into eachothers eyes "Indeed. It was fun while it lasted, wasn't it?" He said with a hollow smile and you gripped the hilt of your sword tighter. "Yes, it was an honour to have known you. But I truly hope that neither of us have the displeasure of seeing each other in hell."

And with that, you drove your sword forward, aiming for the heart you'd long since trapped within your calloused fingers.

[streamdotpng]

Building on your drabble of the parental nicknames chat gives Wenclair, perhaps one where Enid is wearing something Wednesday is looking for, and chat calls Enid out?

Hm, thing is idk how that would play out

If Enid is wearing smth Wednesday is looking for, couldn't she just pop into the stream room and notice Enid wear it?

Unless it's a shirt and it's under a jacket...

Ye nawh, Wednesday would be like "Enid, have you seen my shirt?"

"which one?"

"my striped one,"

Enid, very much wearing a straight slightly form fitted shirt "I'm using it!"

"amor," Wednesday sighs, before coming closer and tugging the werewolf out of the cam.

"woa hey, what are you planning to do?"

"I'm taking what's mine-"

"in front of the children!?"

"the shirt, dear. I'm taking the shirt."

Chat, watching as Endespair character proceeds to dies another gruesome death spam messages at the possibly explicit chattering in the background.

'get a ROOM'

'do u think dad's gonna get sent to the couch for this one?'

'they're both downbad for another so not reallt'

'came for the screams, stayed for the romance'

'what happened to Viper :('

'honestly willa sounds as close as one can get to Viper'

'fr, do u see the amount of sound edits there are on tiktak?'

'LET'S GO VA MUMSA'

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Legend of Vox Machina: Hell to Pay (3x04)

Another great episode, turns out!

Cons:

This is going to be a bit difficult to articulate but it almost felt like we were missing a narrative beat somewhere before Pike and Zerxus began their card game. We know that there's a vestige, we know that the vestige is supposed to be instrumental in defeating Thordak, we know the stakes are high to get it... but it's also just a mostly abstract tool at this point. The others have powerful vestiges, is one more vestige worth the eternal damnation of not only Pike but also all her friends? I think I was missing a beat where the group seriously contemplates turning around and leaving, and then there's one more nudge as to why this is worth the astronomical price of failure. I also felt like it was a little silly that J'Mon apparently sent them down to Hell with absolutely no context or warning other than "this one dude has the armor, go get it." Wouldn't they have gone in a bit more prepared to have to offer something in return?

So there's this interesting tidbit with Zerxus (who I loved and will praise in a moment) where he says "we are his blood," and it seems like he's maybe working for the Whispered One? That would be a cool little tease for potential future seasons, but I feel like viewers who aren't really dedicated and deal-oriented might be confused by that, so I felt like a more concrete reminder might have been warranted.

Pros:

Despite that little wobble in the stakes-setting, I overall really enjoyed this episode. Great for us to get some Pike-centric story going, here!

The setting of Hell was so cool and creative, I felt like every moment gave me a fresh opportunity to enjoy a gruesome sight or creative character design. Scanlan's disguises for the group were also a lot of fun, I especially loved seeing Pike all furry and snugly.

This was a strong episode for Keyleth comedy, I loved her trying to lean in to being a disgusting Hell beast and eating the worm, and Vax's reaction of horror. Plus just her trying to do a scary Hell voice instead of her usual more timid register.

Pike's struggle to figure out the right thing to do is really interesting here, with the Everlight trying to warn her but also wanting her to choose her own path. I appreciate the way her relationship with her goddess functions in this show; it feels like a lot of what the Everlight is doing is empowering Pike to make her own fate, rather than doing more direct divine intervention, which is great for keeping the stakes balanced. Also, whenever we see that light flickering out in her little pendant, we know it means Pike is going to be without the backup/security of her goddess's presence. We've seen how bad that's shaken her in the past, so it was extra cool to see her buckle down and be a bad-ass even when she had those doubts planted in her head.

Let's talk about Zerxus!! So hot! Luis is here! I loved loved loved seeing him. What a cool added element for those of us who have seen Calamity, but also I feel like narrative-wise it's a perfectly reasonable swap-out for how the story went in the original. It felt like having secret forbidden knowledge when he was like "my friends ruined everything with their hubris, and then Asmodeus tricked me." Like, sir. Sir. Are you mayhaps editing the truth just slightly? But I also thought it worked on its own terms. I noticed that the backstory was slightly different as to his husband, but thought that was interesting too, feeding into this idea of his punishment being about being forgotten.

I loved Pike's moment of triumph specifically - the way it tied into Zerxus's story, and Pike's understanding of what it means to have ugly, uncomfortable, and selfish thoughts. Pike has admitted that she wonders if her life would be better without the Everlight, and now she gets Zerxus to realize that his loneliness overrides his desire to keep his family safe.

We didn't have much of a check-in with the Draconia crew, but we did see them briefly, on the cusp of finding out if Kima is okay. I'm excited to check in more with that story when I get around to watching the next episode!

That's all for now! Still loving this show, still hitting on all cylinders. It's interesting to watch the show when I feel really unsure of how things are going to shake out! Things are so different from what I've seen before.

8/10

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

HiIII II min, what are you reading/watching/listening to at the moment, i need recs

QUITE A LOT. i am reading and watching and playing and listening to. A LOT. I'm kind of astounded that I'm actually doing all this at once, but here we go -

Books:

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov - y'all already know what this one is about. I'm here to tell you that it's brilliantly done with a genuinely engaging writing voice and style, and a terrifyingly good unreliable narrator. If you're up to stomaching the obvious pedophilia, I fully recommend it.

Moby Dick by Herman Melville - slightly racist biologically inaccurate whale hunting. For people who know nothing about whales. I've been on a classics kick recently, I'm trying to get my way through a lot of the big 'classic' books and this is what feels like the final boss. It's good, but it's dense as all fuck, and I'm struggling despite being very close to the end with it. I don't recommend this one quite as much, but it's good enough for me to stick with it.

Sacred and Terrible Air by Robert Kurvitz - this is the Disco Elysium novel, translated from Estonian by a variety of lovely people. It's good, but it's also pretty dense - maybe not as much as Moby Dick, but it makes it hard to read in large chunks. I'm reading it alongside my beloved @lifewithoutrainydays, and i really need to put more time into it.

S. by Doug Dorst - fucking fascinating book. It's presented as a book called 'Ship of Theseus' by an author that doesn't exist, and it looks and feels like an actual old library book, complete with scribblings in the margins (that form a whole other meta story on top of the book itself), postcards and printouts jammed in between the pages, and an old library label on the spine. Still trying to figure out how to read it, but plucking away at it in-between all my other endeavors.

Our Bloody Pearl by D.N. Bryn - a.k.a., me trying to step out of my comfort zone and read some recommendations, and not quite clicking with it. Found family pirate-siren trauma-recovery story. I like the things being done with communication difficulties, but on the whole it feels a bit too fanfiction-y, which is not something I tend to like in my original fiction. I'd recommend it if you're a fan of that sort of thing, though!

Comics:

Awful Hospital: Seriously the Worst Ever by Bogleech - the author says they've never read Homestuck. I don't know if I believe them. A glorious gruesome surreal hellish trip through a very very bad hospital, seriously the worst ever, and beyond! I'm pretty early on but enjoying the fuck out of it. I don't know where it's going and I'm scared to find out.

Doctor Strange: Fall Sunrise by Tradd Moore - I read this ages ago, but finally have it in printed edition, and that rules because everything about this FUCKS SEVERELY. the art style is unhinged and brilliant, the writing is weird and beautiful, and the plot is........ the weirdest thing Doctor Strange comics have ever done since Into Shamballa, actually. i'm taking it slow this time because i want to savor every panel.

The Apothecary Diaries (manga edition) - this has been on pause for a bit, because everything else I was reading distracted me, but it's good and it's open in another tab right now, so I'll include it. Murder mysteries in an ancient Chinese court, starring the weirdest poison-obsessed apothecary girl who has ever existed. She poisons herself for fun and gets excited over particularly deadly toxins, I love her to death.

Games:

The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt - I loved the books and the show, so I figured it was about time to actually play the games. I'm a tiny bit addicted to it at this point. It's a good fucking game. I like killing monsters and I like playing Fantasy Magic The Gathering and i really really like the battle music. I'm 100%ing this one or I'm dying in the process.

Lobotomy Corporation - has fallen a bit by the wayside because of the Witcher, whoops, but I do fully intend to get back to it at some point. I know there's some less-than-great stuff going on vis-a-vis the creators, but I'm not really engaging on that level. I'm just enjoying it as an SCP-like creature-management simulator. There's some very fun anomalies with very fun writeups in this one, and I enjoy the mental challenge of figuring out what makes them all tick.

Listening to:

Critical Role, Campaign Three - I'm not utterly obsessed with it, but it's a nice long chunk of listening for me to get my evening routine done to the sound of.

And on my podcast 'I'm all caught up, but I regularly listen when new episodes come out' list are: The Magnus Protocol, Dungeons and Daddies, The Adventure Zone, and Apocrypals.

Watching:

The X-Files - all of it, start-to-finish, because I have somehow managed to avoid all spoilers of a sci-fi cultural touchstone all this time, and I'm really looking forward to seeing where this goes. I love some fucked-up monster-of-the-week sci-fi.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Sorry for the holdup everyone (this was supposed to be out yesterday, but idk I just wasn’t in the writing/editing mood); here’s part 5 of the poll story!

A) Think for a moment, then ask “Are you going to hurt it?” You’re afraid whatever he plans to do will go badly for the cat, or him.

“Well, I.. don’t want the cat getting hurt.”  You’re more worried about him getting hurt, but you feel as if you’ll hurt his pride if you tell him that directly.  Ralyr’s ears droop just slightly.  Looking at the tiny being before you, it’s clear he was eager to get to that cat.  Whatever he wanted with it had something to do with shapeshifting.  Could he really become another creature?  Why not turn human?  Wait..  “What exactly are you going to do to it?”  What if he really meant what he said about scaring you?  What if his methods of shapeshifting did something gruesome or awful to whatever he turned into?

“I’ll probably just bite it,” he tells you in a suspiciously nonchalant voice.  His eyes dart briefly away from yours.  “Bite it?”  Ralyr pretends to look around the room as you scrutinize him.  “Just long enough to drink some blood.”  He’d tried to whisper it so you couldn’t hear, but you’d heard enough.  “You what?  Are you some sort of parasite?!”  

Ralyr whirls around to stare at you, eyes wide in shock, expression miffed.  Immediately, you cover your mouth.  “Was that offensive?” you gasp, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that; I just.. don't know.. what you are. You’re a satyrian, but I have no idea what that is.” you finish carefully.  After a brief silence, Ralyr chuckles and shakes his head almost pityingly at you.  “Don't worry.  You wouldn't know any better.  Humans like you don’t really know about us.  Well, I guess they kind of do, but your kind calls us all sorts of different things.”  You blink surprisedly, “We do?  I've never seen something- someone,” you correct yourself, “like you before.”  Ralyr nods, a hint of a snide smirk on his face, “We've gotten better at blending in over the last century.  The most common thing I've been called is a satyr, plain and simple, but many of my kind and its kin have been labeled as ‘vampires’ by yours.”

Hearing the word vampire, your nose wrinkles up in disbelief.  “You're not a vampire!” you gasp, “Vampires are normal-sized, and they're like… pale and undead-looking.”  The little being who claims to be a vampire crosses his arms and takes a step towards you.  “Now that is offensive.”   Tiredly, you rub a hand over your face and take another look at him, bending down so your head is level with his.  Ralyr’s arms uncross and he takes a cautious step back, wary of your closeness.

Deep brown eyes settle on yours, and his defensive look softens.  “You really don’t mean me any harm?”  You shake your head the slightest bit, afraid that too big a movement would spook him.  Ralyr takes a deep breath, “Satyrians are a hybrid species between your kind and a long-extinct shapeshifting race.  Neither my kind or my kin’s can fully shapeshift anymore thanks to that.  I can only shift the bottom half of me, see?”  He lifts a little mouse-like foot and wiggles his tiny toes.  “I’d like to take a bigger form than this one if I am to get around places where I don’t particularly have to stay hidden.  That is, if you’ll have me here.”

What do you reply? A) “Of course you can stay! Come on, if you really want to get a new form, let’s go round up that cat.”  You offer him your open palms for him to climb onto.

B) “Your kin?  Is that your family? Why don’t you stay with them?”  It’s not that you want him gone, you just don’t want to keep him here if there’s a safer place he can stay where he won’t have to hide.

C) “You don’t have anyone else to stay with?” you ask.  Taking care of a whole other person in your home is a lot to take on all at once.

D) “I don’t mind you staying, but I do mind you harming the neighbor’s cat,” you tell him.  “We can go out tomorrow and find you another form to take.”

[lost-technology]

Trigun Fanfiction Appreciation Week - Shameless Self-Promotion Edition!

A few of my fics. Leaving out my big WIP, as someone else already tagged it. Writ of Passage - Rem does crime. Red Sauce - A tale of Vash appreciating food and nostalgia. It's a very simple little one-shot, and special to me as it was inspired by a real life event full of complex emotions. 31 Bullets - Prompt fics for Tritober. Different, varied little stories.

And There Went Wolfwood - Comedy / slightly tragic story about Vash getting caught in a time-loop inspired by a very silly post by @lov3mayfly Cage of Bone, Prison of Flesh - Prompt-fills for Trigun Body Horror Week @organsoutsidelovinglydescribed - HEED THE WARNINGS. Very explicit, gruesome horror. For the gore-fiends who like their Trigun fanfiction on the twisted side.

[macncherries]

trigun stampede character studies because i like them a normal amount (I literally cannot stop thinking about them. i wake up and I think about them. i go to sleep and I think about them) some of this is a combination of both trigun and trigun stampede as well as headcanons! drabbles about that under the cut

i took the original canon designs from trigun stampede as a basis. i kept their outfits relatively the same and their hairstyles + accessories match that of stampedes. edited wolfwoods outfit slightly by making his grey shirt deeper cut to mimick that of 1998 trigun's. as for faces, because all of my faces have a slight pinch of realism, I had to determine their face shapes and feature shapes based on cannon and headcannon. i huge differentiation not put into trigun stampede is vash's face shape! in the original trigun movie (2010) you can see their differences better as well as when the anime begins to reach further out into the 2000s and the style changes.

vash has canonically droopy eyes! imo, it wasn't really put into the stampede version and they kind of went for typical bubbly eyes instead. considering this, I had to balance the bubbly eyes with the droop so I added a droopy bottom lid to the eye while keeping the top one rather happy and crescent-shaped. additionally, in all of the official art for the 1998 version, vash's eyes stick out a lot. they tend to use high contrast to highlight his blue eyes a lot in the original so I decided to purposely give him extra shiny eyes since they seem to catch the light so often. woflwoods eye shape changed quite a lot. I prefer stampedes version a lot more; with thin eyelids on top + bottom and a slight droop right before the end. I also accentuated the length of the last eyelash more because while its there in stampede, it's not enough :3

other face changes include their noses. in stampede, pretty much everyone has the same face shape depending on gender/age. but in the original trigun, and while its more obvious as the style develops, wolfwood does have that big angular nose with a slight bump. i did not change the nose shape at all and referred to that specifically when deciding his. vash's on the other hand tends to fluctuate, and because it was 1998 it is kind of hard to tell but his nose is definitely more pointy than ANYONE else's. so taking that into account I gave him a very sharp straight nose but with a button-ish shape at the end to define it more because his nose shape stood out to me more than just a simple straight nose.

some details changed were the lack of facial hair on wolfwood. in 1998 he had some stubble and it also just seemed fitting to give him more hair in general because of that. feel like it would grow back too fast and he'd just give up trying to shave. i jus think he's a hairy dude. as for vash, even if he IS hairy, he's also blonde, so any of those thin hairs like whats on arms and legs would shine in the sunlight and basically go invisible (before T i had those blonde leg hairs and it didn't matter how much i let them grow out, they're invisible) nonetheless, he got a little hair in places its more concentrated. darkened his happy trail too since he's got a little bit of brown and blonde hair i thought it was valid enough decision-making.

i also adopted the more gruesome scar types seen in the manga panel in 1998. in stampede its more stylized, which isn't bad, but I prefer more obvious ones as well as showing the differentiation in healing/age depending on the scar. finding references for all the scars vash has was really difficult (he canonically has one on his butt, lol) so I had to bullshit some of the lower half ones (like on the knees) but I think its fitting enough.

some things entirely based on headcannons:

wolfwood

trans'd his gender. because i can. no other reason :)

the scars he's got because of that are;

hysterectomy (two small, symmetrical scars above the v-line)

double incision (mastectomy)

phalloplasty (not shown, its under the burger.)

skin graft from phallo (kind of visible. please note that irl skin graft scars on the thigh can be practically indetectable, but I decided to do a more stylized version for this to make it more apparent. i went with a thigh graft instead of arm because grafting from your arm restricts mobility for a short period of time which obviously, he would need, considering his weapon. thigh is also less visible under normal circumstances and we additionally never see wolfwoods bare thigh in either canon universes so I am allowed to be delusional :3)

no adams apple (while you can get surgery for this, its relatively uncommon and is invasive for little to no benefit, its like, an inch of cartilage.)

long face + his jaw shape (the jaw shape KIND OF appears in stampede, but not really, so I accentuated it more.)

eye bags (no real reason. i just think he deserves them :3)

wide mouth (again, KIND OF in stampede because vash tends to smile more vertically and he smiles more horizontally, so i accentuated that factor)

painted nails (because i can.)

body shape edited a little bit from canon. i made him more bulky and rectangular but still kept a sinched waist in his outfit as compensation. the bulk isn't really pure muscle mass; he's just kinda built like that

wolfwood is subject to change. im considering giving him slightly longer hair in the back(because I can) and his necklace choker from his prototype version back (because. I can.) p.s. if you want to see without the censor please dm me! these are just character studies so I don't really see any point in keeping them under wraps.

vash

all scars below the groin area i had to make up. i think its realistic for his knees to be banged tf up because that's easy to scar considering how reckless he is. everything else I just decided accordingly with aesthetical balance.

plump bottom lip (he deserves it :3 he's cute :3)

painted nails (because I can.)

jaw shape (he has more circular proportions in stampede but in trigun he's very angular so I wanted to find a balance for that. he's babygirl but still not entirely feminine.)

circular chin (I wanted him to have a puffy circular chin from the side to compliment the lower lip.)

eyelashes (hes kinda got it in the 1998 version but they're not very consistent so I just gave him some top eyelashes to accentuate it :3)

side note: i refuse to transgender vash. i wont do it. ive seen so many people trans his gender and it makes me sad bc they either do it because they ship him with his fucking brother or they do it because he's too babygirl for you COWARDS who equate that to being AFAB. shame on you. real mfs KNOW he's cunty babygirl and give him a horse cawk. thank you for your time.

[gyllenhaalstories]

So I HAVE to ask!!! What's your thoughts on presumed innocent?!?

HI!!! my thoughts are i love this show because it's so good and i hate this show because it's so good. it's so stressful, i don't even know how i'll survive the finale! but it's so good. my favourite part has to be the way the trailers told us so much yet so little and how most of the more important scenes came up in the first 2-3 episodes so we've had a lot more to discover with the rest of the episodes! so much is intertwined too and the editing is really good. how they transition and/or focus on different characters after important scenes and dialogues is so! wow! i mean, how was i going to hate this? we've seen jake's ass more in this one series than in the last decade. we have been BLESSED. i would have been satisfied with just jake standing there and looking hot with his glasses but the show is really good. the cast is so strong! the story too. i really love it! i don't think it's something i will gravitate towards after it ends, i don't see myself wanting to binge watch this heavy and stressful show on a random tuesday, but there are certain scenes i'll enjoy watching just for the fun of it. i do want to watch it again, but it's certainly not an easy watch. i will definitely miss having new jake content every week and having something to haunt my thoughts in between episodes!

i have so many thoughts about who could have done it, i'll put them under the read more. but i'm curious to hear your thoughts, anon!!! have you watched the show or did you wait to binge all of it before/after the finale? do you have theories??? let me know!!! 🥰💖

i don't know if you're asking about who i think is responsible for carolyn's murder, but i'll just keep on rambling about it. i've stated multiple times how i fall into every single trap they set up before me. i hope it's barbara. she would be the most logical choice although i have no idea how they will target her since she's been so meticulously kept out of people's minds. not a single person accuses the wife who was cheated on for months perhaps longer? who's husband would not hesitate to dump their family to start one with the woman he loves (who CLEARLY does not love him back)? like why? if it was the other way around, with the wife having an affair and killing the other person the husband would be the FIRST SUSPECT. i don't know. it's like the way the show is edited points at barbara yet no one in the room dares to even consider her as an option. it's giving fake feminism as in "women are all fragile and tiny and weak they can't commit bad things". is she going to call herself up to the witness stand like "the people call me hehe" and just go "i kill that woman because my husband fucked her and i want to ruin my husband's life too with this gruesome murder". if she did... absolute boss. i love barbara.

my second theory is tommy. something something he was in love with carolyn she hated him he knew rusty was having an affair with her AND rusty had the job he wanted (and that carolyn wanted as well, sorry for not believing you right away rusty but you were right about that xoxo). easy peasy lemon squeezy. he could have killed two birds with one stone (or well, one fire poker). it would not be as satisfying as barbara, but satisfying nonetheless. this man who is going mad trying to accuse rusty being the one who did it all along? nico would lose his shit eating grin. and they have initiated that possibility with eugenia explaining how the only complaint ever made by carolyn was towards him. the door is slightly more open for tommy than it is for barbara.

any other option, to me, sounds less exciting. rusty? pointless. 8 pointless episodes just for him to go "teehee i killed her bc i got angry snap snap <3 but if i had known she was pregnant with my baby i would have hit her with a proposal not a fire poker :(". carolyn's ex-husband? boring. it would be less boring if SOMEONE OTHER THAN RUSTY had started to dig around on carolyn like hello? her son's messed up and she's got no contact with him, the husband looks depressed as fuck. someone! should! have! pushed! this! i'm not just saying this because i disliked carolyn from the start and i made it very clear she was creeping me out, but also because it's so strange how no one is digging deeper about this (the same way no one is thinking of the possibility of barbara doing it). liam reynolds or brian ratzer? so boring. the kids??? hmm. creepy. michael is a strange one, looking up sketchy crime websites to keep up with his mother and THE bunny davis case in particular is... interesting... could the dad have killed her in a fit of rage (he is also capable of snapping! like rusty! carolyn had a type apparently) and the son visited the scene quickly after to finish the job and make her look like the bunny davis case he studied with such interest? hmm. disturbing. but. kyle and jaden are also interesting, kyle has his father's temper and he's a mama's boy. jaden cares so much for her father who's she's really close to. but i don't really think jaden would do this. the kids would be interesting but again, very disturbing.

SO MANY THEORIES AND POSSIBILITIES. i hope it's barbara i want it to be barbara. raymond can give her his title. barbara "the slay" sabich. it has a ring to it.