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ellalalala · 21 days

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By your name (all the stars, rivers, cities)

Akademiya! Zandik is probably my favorite version of Dottore but also one that I really struggle to write. If he's ooc here, close your eyes <3 Not proofread lol out of sight out of mind Fluff, mutual pining inspired by one of my favorite songs - Твоим именем by Svidaniye Also on AO3

You prayed he didn't notice the trembling of your hands.

Zandik hadn't spoken a word to you since he opened his leather-bound journal, opting instead to sketch the ruin golem that was nestled between the tall hills of Ardravi Valley. You'd robbed yourself of the privilege of observing him in his element; the close proximity between the two of you made you nervous. It felt dangerous to observe your surroundings, to move your limbs, and so you sat frozen beside him, afraid that Zandik would become suspicious of you.

The reason for your shyness was clear as day: Zandik had never allowed you to come this close before, always rejecting your goodwill with the apprehension of someone who had only ever known cruelty. But now, the blanket you sat on was barely big enough to fit both of you, and Zandik didn't seem to mind; not the way your thighs touched, nor the way your shoulders bumped. You imagined that his soft curls would brush against your cheek if he were to turn his head to the side - and that thought only served to fluster you even more.

How is he so calm, you wondered, when we've never been this close before?

You were frustrated with yourself. So much time had been spent by his side - studying, drinking coffee, wandering the lush expanses of the rainforest - yet you still felt deeply, indescribably nervous. Anxiety sank into your bones and jumbled your mind; you knew why, had known for weeks, but it was impossible to accept. How could you?

Your focus shifted to the Sumeru rose in your hand. Zandik picked it for you on your way to your favorite picnic spot - the hill that overlooked Vimara village - and said the simple words, "for your book". You accepted the flower with a polite "thank you", heart fluttering in your chest when he gave you a faint smile - the sight forever etched in your mind.

It was meant to be pressed between the pages of your favorite book. You didn't have the heart to do it, though; damaging a rose given to you by Zandik felt wrong. Even if his actions carried no underlying implications, it didn't matter. You wanted to keep it. Once you returned to your dorm, you would place this delicate rose in a small vase and ensure it survived a few more days.

You twirled it between your fingers. A little more time and this embarrassment would end. Zandik would forget you behaved this way, engrossed in his research, and you would be the sole person to carry the burden of remembering every second you spent fiddling with the hem of your shirt, too shy to move from the spot beside your friend.

Friend. The word tasted sour in your mouth.

"You're eerily quiet today," said Zandik, "what's the matter?"

This time, you had no choice but to look at him. Zandik had long finished drawing. The journal lay on his lap, open to reveal a surprisingly detailed illustration of the ruin golem across the river. Your breath nearly hitched when your eyes met Zandik's.

"I'm fine. Just thinking."

You felt small under his gaze; he observed you as if you were something interesting - one of those ruin mechanisms that he so adored. You couldn't take it.

You pointed at his journal, "the drawing turned out so well."

"It's a simple sketch, really. But that ruin golem lying ahead... it is the pinnacle of human wisdom. Isn't it awe-inspiring?"

His ruby eyes glimmered with excitement; the sort that only awakened when Zandik spoke about his interests. It warmed your heart - it always did - but this time, the close proximity between your faces was enough to make you blush.

You smiled, "yes, it is."

"I am set to join an investigation team as a trainee dastur soon," Zandik said, "we will conduct field research near that golem. If I'm lucky, we'll even study its interior..."

He gazed ahead, no doubt imagining the discoveries he would make. This was what he lived for - refining his understanding of the world around him, its inner workings. You would never be...

Stupid, stupid thoughts. Weren't you just his friend?

"You'll have to tell me all about it," you said. That was appropriate. That wouldn't raise any questions. Zandik loved to talk about his research and he loved to talk about it with someone who cared. You just so happened to care more than anyone.

Zandik looked at you with newfound delight. It all came back to you then: the proximity between the two of you, the rose in your hand, his smile. How were you supposed to understand any of this? When his arm brushed against yours, his thigh pressed against your own and his lips were only inches away from yours - how would a stranger look at this?

Doesn't matter, you thought, because it means nothing. He's just my friend.

"A pity you can't join."

Not the words you expected to hear from Zandik, of all people. Your brain must have short-circuited, for you couldn't form a single coherent thought as you watched him casually put his journal away like he hadn't just...

Your cheeks tinted red. A cruel voice in your head told you that Zandik would definitely miss you, think of you whenever you weren't by his side.

"Well, a Rtawahist student has no use in field research..." you mumbled, making Zandik huff in amusement.

"It has nothing to do with your darshan."

A thousand different thoughts swarmed in your head. "Then what?"

He didn't give his answer just yet. Zandik chose to inspect you once more as if to fluster you - and though it worked exceedingly well, you couldn't bring yourself to look away, captivated by his boyish charm.

Zandik looked so utterly serene; olive skin bathed in the soft light of the evening sun, soft cyan hair tousled by the warm breeze. The corners of his thin lips were tilted upwards in a roguish smirk, and your poor, frail heart was threatened to give out. It still made no sense to you: how anyone could look at Zandik and see a monster.

He exhaled softly, "your behavior these past few weeks was puzzling. My initial assumption was that you had grown to fear me, just like the others..." Zandik reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your jawline, "but the answer has become a bit clearer now."

Your breath hitched. He knew. He knew the truth, had guessed it long ago, and you - ever the fool - were oblivious all along.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, ashamed beyond compare; for even with the possibility of your feelings being unrequited, you reveled in the way his fingertips warmed your skin.

"Sorry? I never said you had to be sorry."

Zandik sat impossibly close. He cupped your cheek and watched you melt into his touch.

"But it's a bother, isn't it?" You asked, to which Zandik blinked owlishly before chuckling - a saccharine melody that you wanted to keep in your memory forever.

He gazed at you fondly, in a way he never had before, "would I keep spending my time with you if I thought you were a bother?"

"I guess not," you breathed, painfully aware of the tiny distance between the two of you. It felt unreal; you doubted you fully comprehended his words, lost in Zandik's touch as you were.

You could kiss him. The idea baffled you, making the words ring in your head, over and over, I can kiss him, I can kiss him, I can kiss him.

By the looks of it, Zandik had similar thoughts but enough self-control to hold back. You, on the other hand, lacked the courage to go through with your idea, and so you sat basking in his tender touches like you would never feel them again.

You couldn't ask for anything more, anyway.

#il dottore #il dottore x reader #zandik x reader #dottore x reader #zandik #dottore #genshin impact #my writing #ao3 #finally done omfg i'm gonna go reward myself with dinner loool

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nahoney22 · 7 days

Note

Hello darling!

Hope all is well!

I would love a season 2! Hunter x reader smut fic if you have the time!

I was thinking reader has broken up with her ex after a horrible dinner at his family’s house and after the ex doesn’t defend her, she walks away. Hunter noticed reader having a rough time for a few weeks and finally asks her about it leading to confessions of feelings and some loving intimacy.

Like reader really wanted to be with Hunter but he didn’t seem interested (even though he was) so she started dating a guy none of the boys liked but kept quiet for her sake.

I love everything you’ve written Honey so take your time!

Thank you love!

In Plain Sight***🌊

🫧 Pairing: Hunter X Female Reader

word count: 4.4k

prompts: none

After an embarrassing breakup, you feel lost and confused. But as Hunter comes to lend a reassuring hand he’s surprised about what you tell him and more so, how you feel for him.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Bad Breakup, Reader’s ex is an arse and so is his family, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers, confessing of feelings, first kiss, making out, explicit sexual content and language, oral sex, fingering, blowjob, nudity, vaginal sex, porn with feelings, aftercare. Not proofread.

warnings: hope this is okay @originalcollectionartistry 🩵

You thought you knew the pain of breakups, having weathered a few in the past. But nothing had prepared you for this.

Meeting your partner's family had always felt like a make-or-break moment, and tonight, as you trudged back to the Marauder in the pouring rain, clothes clinging to your skin, frustration and rage boiling within you, it was painfully clear how disastrously it had gone.

Initially, his parents seemed charming, nice even. Their pride in their son evident. But when their eyes fell on you, you felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. They peppered you with questions about your job or lack of currently, your home, your life, and with each chuckle that followed your answers, discomfort gnawed at you. What had you said that was so amusing? Why did his siblings give you dirty looks as though you’d been dragged through a sarlaac pit?

Desperately, you reached for your boyfriend's hand under the dinner table, hoping for some sign of comfort and support. Instead, his laugh cut through the air, and his words shattered you. "I told her she could be successful if she stops what she does now! She just likes being in tattered armour rather than dressing like a normal citizen."

Your heart stopped. Where had that come from? He had always claimed to admire your ambitions and your adventures? "Babe?" you pleaded uncomfortably, but he only laughed harder, his family joining in as they began to tear you apart.

You couldn’t take it any longer. With a sharp slam of your hand on the table, you left, storming out without a backward glance. The worst part? He didn't chase after you. He didn't try to stop you or even comm you as you walked away.

The Marauder loomed ahead, but you paused, struggling to catch your breath. The wind and rain howled, wrapping around you like a constrictive shroud, but you pressed on, doing your best to appear unbothered.

What a failure that was.

You hit a button on your wrist, and the door to the ship opened with a mechanical hiss, the gangplank dropping down. Normally, the sounds of life inside the Marauder would bring a smile to your face, but not today.

Dripping wet, you walked up, running a hand through your soaked hair, hoping to slip in unnoticed. You kicked off your boots, pleasantly surprised they weren’t brimming with rainwater, and prepared to stealthily sneak to your bunk. However, a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“You’re back early.” Hunter; voice calm but observant.

Biting your lip, you kept your back to him as tears automatically threatened to spill. “Uh, yeah. Got a stomach ache,” you lied, your voice unsteady.

You heard Hunter draw a breath to speak, but before he could, a heavy hand clasped your shoulder, turning you to face Wrecker, who was grinning until he saw your face. “Back from lover boy’s alre—uh, what’s the matter?”

You couldn’t stop the sob that erupted from your chest, your hand flying to your mouth in a futile attempt to stifle it. The noise drew everyone’s attention. Omega darted between Hunter and Wrecker, her eyes wide with worry. “What’s wrong?” she asked, reaching out for your arm.

You hated pulling away from her, but you did, turning quickly and retreating to your bunk. The others, sensing your need for space, didn’t follow—at least, not immediately.

“She did not seem okay,” Tech states, his tone neutral.

“Well observed, Tech,” Echo retorted, rolling his eyes.

Hunter stood silent, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists at his sides. What had happened to you? “Let’s give her some space,” he said finally. “Omega, maybe bring her some caf in an hour or two, hm?” He placed a reassuring hand on the young girl’s shoulder. Omega’s eyes, still glazed with worry, never left the spot where you had disappeared. She had never seen you cry like that before—tears of laughter, sure, but never this.

As you wept in your bunk, a deep sense of embarrassment gnawed at you. Embarrassed by what happened at your ex-boyfriend's family home—because yes, he was clearly an ex now—and even more embarrassed that five people you adored had witnessed your emotional breakdown.

Six months. You had been with him for just shy of six months, and you had genuinely believed things were going well. No 'I love yous' had been exchanged, but that hadn't bothered you. Or so you thought. Now, the humiliation he had inflicted stung more than the end of the relationship itself. That spoke volumes. And his family? Utterly slimy.

"Hey," a quiet voice broke through your thoughts. You sniffled, rolling over to see Omega standing there, a steaming cup of caf in her hands and Lula tucked under her arm. "I got you a drink."

You managed a soft smile, sitting up and making room for Omega to sit beside you. "Thanks," you mumbled, taking the drink from her hands. She remained silent for a moment, and you half-expected her to say something, but she didn't. Instead, she rested her head on your arm, and your heart swelled.

Sometimes, just a hug was all you needed. But sadly, that was only sometimes. The comfort was fleeting but you had a lot of thinking to do.

Days blurred into weeks, but the pain didn't subside. Each attempt at conversation ended in choked sobs, leaving you feeling more isolated than ever. Finally, you made a decision—for the sake of the team, and for your own well-being. You had to leave.

Albeit, only temporarily.

Finding a small apartment on Ord Mantell, you sought solace. The others had insisted you stay with them, promising things would improve, but you couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t find peace. And Hunter... well, he didn’t exactly make things easier.

Before your ill-fated relationship, your heart had belonged to Hunter, whether he knew it or not. His mere presence had always set your heart aflutter, but it had been painfully obvious that he didn’t share your feelings. Truthfully you had never confessed your emotions, but being around him now, as a single person, only reignited those dormant feelings.

You came to the quick realisation you hadn’t loved your ex—not truly. Deep down, you feared that your heart was still reserved for someone else. Someone like Hunter. Someone who is Hunter.

You gaze out the window of your apartment, lost in thought and it wasn't just about the desperate need to spruce up the place. The dim lights flickered occasionally from the outdated fixtures. The walls, scuffed and patched but showed no signs of damp or mold, which was a relief. The landlords had tried to add a touch of character with cheap holo-posters of Mandalorian warriors and a famous podracer you hadn’t heard of and as for the kitchenette it was uninspiring, but functional atleast.

However, the bedroom was your solace. Modest, with a slightly lumpy mattress, but it offered you the best sleep you'd had in ages, a rare chance to clear your mind.

Your thoughts were fixed to your ex—not out of longing, but out of lingering self-doubt. His cruel words still echoed, making you question if others felt the same way about you. Was this the life you were destined for? Barely surviving with the Batch, every transmission from Cid leading you on another wild Bantha chase for a pittance. It wasn’t sustainable for anyone.

A sudden buzz from your door jolted you from your thoughts. You blinked, unsure if you'd heard correctly, before it buzzed again. "Oh."

You jogged over, curiosity piqued. As the door opened with an unpleasant hiss from its faulty wiring, your eyes widened at the familiar sight of golden-brown eyes staring back at you.

"Hi, Hunter," you said softly, a strange sensation washing over you.

"Hey. Mind if I come in?" he asked, and you stepped aside as he brushed past you. Stars, you would never get over how good he smelled.

You let the door close behind you and watched as Hunter took in your apartment. "It’s not much," you said sheepishly, folding your arms over your chest.

"It’s cold," he remarked, moving to a heating unit and switching it on. It rattled and creaked ominously, so he quickly turned it off. "Tech should take a look at that."

You chuckled in agreement, following Hunter as he continued to inspect your environment, not very discreetly. "So… any reason for the visit?"

"Can’t an old friend come to see you?" he replied. The term 'friend' made your heart somewhat pang, but you rolled your eyes at his comment.

"Old friend? Hunter, I’ve been gone for like four rotations."

"Feels like fourteen," he muttered, taking a seat on the couch, which seemed surprisingly comfortable judging by his expression.

A moment of silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words. You took a seat beside him, the reality of his presence slowly sinking in. "Hunter, why are you really here?"

He looked at you, eyes serious. "I came to check on you. To make sure you're okay. You left so suddenly, and… it didn’t feel right without you around."

“It’s been… tough,” you admit quietly. “Being away from you all, dealing with...everything.”

Hunter looks at you, his gaze steady and warm. “We miss you. I, uh, miss you. The team isn’t the same without you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You look down, unable to meet his eyes. “I just needed some space to figure things out.”

“Can I ask what it is you need to figure out?”

“You can,” you begin with a small scoff, “but I’m afraid I don’t even know the answer to that.”

Hunter clasps his hands together, his knee bouncing up and down. His gaze shifts to your kitchenette. “Did…” he trails off, hesitating. You look at him, raising a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Finally, he meets your eyes again. “You were really upset all those weeks ago and so I’m assuming you and that guy broke up and I can’t help but ask… did he hurt you?”

You close your eyes, the topic still painful, but you shake your head. “No, he didn’t. Not physically anyway.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he says quickly, concern etched on his face. Again, you shake your head.

“Maybe this is a good idea,” you admit. “Someone to rant to. It’s been weeks, almost months since the breakup, and my mind has been a mess. Some advice would be good.”

Hunter nods, his expression softening. “I’m here. Talk to me.”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “It’s not just about the breakup. It’s about everything. I feel like I’m constantly fighting just to keep my head above water. Every mission we go on for Cid feels like a waste, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re stuck in a cycle. And then, he… he made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. Like my choices were wrong, my ambitions worthless.”

Hunter’s eyes darken slightly, his jaw tightening. “He was wrong. You’re one of the strongest people I know. And your ambitions? They’re what make you who you are.”

“But what if he wasn’t entirely wrong?” you counter, your voice beginning to tremble. “What if I’m just fooling myself, thinking I’m capable of more when I’m not?”

Hunter reaches out, placing a hand over yours. The warmth and steadiness of his touch grounds you. “Listen to me. You are capable. You’ve proven that time and time again. And it’s okay to feel lost sometimes. We all do. But you don’t have to face it alone.”

“Thanks Hunter,” you say with earnest, “I appreciate what you’ve said.”

The pair of you sit in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You can’t help but glance down at his hand still on top of yours, his thumb brushing over your skin delicately. Your skin prickles with an intensity, a burning sensation that makes your heart race. Luckily, Hunter speaks up before you do or say anything foolish.

“If it makes you feel any better, me and the lads didn’t really like him.”

Oddly enough, it doesn’t. You turn your gaze back to him, giving him a look of uncertainty. “Why not?”

He seems surprised by your question and clears his throat. “Uh, there was just something off, I guess.”

You blink and have to refrain from scoffing. “So after all this time, none of you decided to tell me that you didn’t even like the guy?”

Hunter removes his hand from yours, and you shudder internally as the sudden coldness replaces his touch. “The others thought you were happy.”

“And you didn’t?”

Hunter hesitates, a mixture of frustration and concern etched on his face as he searches for the right words. “I saw things that made me worry. Little signs that you weren’t entirely happy. But I didn’t want to interfere.”

You don’t know why, but a sudden surge of irritation wells up inside you, threatening to spill over. “So you saw that I wasn’t entirely happy and just decided to stay quiet? Let me guess, you also knew I liked you and didn’t say anything either?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you freeze. Hunter’s eyes widen in surprise, and you feel a rush of panic, your heart pounding in your chest. “I… I didn’t mean…”

The realisation of what you’ve just admitted hits you like a punch to the gut. Flustered and embarrassed, you quickly retreat to your bedroom, your voice barely a whisper as you mutter, “You’re free to leave whenever you want,” before shutting the door behind you.

You sit on the edge of your bed, your heart racing and your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. What have you done? You put your face in your hands, trying to calm yourself, but the embarrassment only grows, a painful lump forming in your throat.

Minutes pass, each one stretching out miserably as you replay the conversation in your mind. You curse yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you, for blurting out something so deeply personal. The silence in your room feels oppressive, weighing down on you.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, you decide to leave your bedroom and apologise. Taking a deep breath, you open the door, only to find Hunter standing right there, his expression a mixture of determination and vulnerability.

“I knew,” he says softly, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “I knew because your heart never beat the way it did around me when you were with him.”

Your breath catches, backing up as he comes closer, the raw honesty in his voice and the closeness of his body making your pulse quicken. “Hunter…”

“I could see how your eyes lit up around me, how you laughed and weren’t as reserved around me,” you stop just by the edge of your bed, your knees trembling at his every word, “I could sense how aroused you were around me…”

“Hunter,” you repeat again, breathless, “w-why are you saying this now?”

“Because I was stupid to think that we would naturally click. That one day we will both wake up and decide to be together but it never happened.” He mutters, his hand raising, taking some of your hair between his fingers and twisting it softly. “I’ve always felt it, and I couldn’t stand seeing you with him, knowing you weren’t happy.”

“I…”

Before you can finish, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, passionate kiss. At long last.

Your hands find their way to his muscular shoulders, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss once you moan into his mouth, tongue exploring yours with an urgency that makes your body feel ablaze.

He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your skin, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me too.”

“I want you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need, your fingers clutching at his shirt, “I always have.”

With a satisfied grunt, Hunter pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you as your arms and legs entwine, lips chasing yours with a hungry urgency. His body is a comforting weight against you, his presence grounding you in the moment, erasing the turmoil of the past weeks.

It isn’t long before you’re both stripped bare, his lips trailing fiery paths down your neck, alternating with his hand on your breast, kneading and teasing. “Hunter,” you pant his name, the sound escaping your lips without conscious thought, a natural response to his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he purrs, his lips moving up to your jaw, then capturing your mouth again. “So beautiful.”

“So are you,” you manage, blushing as you smile against his lips. Your breath hitches when you feel the warm, hard length of him press against your thigh. You can't deny that you’ve fantasised about this moment, wondering about the size and feel of Hunter’s cock, imagining the sensation of it in your mouth.

Hunter seems to read your thoughts, flashing you a knowing smirk before kissing your cheek. Slowly, you start to move down his body, your eyes never leaving his. His gaze darkens with lust, his pupils blown wide, and he lets out a low groan as your tongue flicks over the bulbous head of his cock. That dainty lick is just the beginning, a tease that quickly transforms into something more intense. A moan escapes Hunter as your warm, slick tongue circles the tip, exploring every ridge and vein. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

The sensation of your tongue dancing over his length is exquisite, his throat closing up, unable to contain the gritted, strained moans that tumble from his lips. He gently lays a hand in your hair, grabbing a handful as he starts to guide your head, the pressure firm but tender.

You moan around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers through his body. His breathing becomes tight as you bob your head back and forth with growing fervor, taking him deeper with each movement. His grip in your hair tightens, his hips starting to move in time with your rhythm, a low growl escaping him as he fights to maintain control.

“Stars, you’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. The slick, wet sound of your mouth on him fills the room like a symphony of pleasure. Hunter's hand tightens in your hair, his control slipping as he guides you faster, the pleasure building.

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, your tongue continuing its dance along his length. Hunter’s hips buck involuntarily, his breaths coming in ragged gasp. ''Hah, ahh... keep going, keep- fu...'

As Hunter's moans intensify, panting your name, you suddenly pull away, a teasing smile on your lips as he gasps at the loss of contact. “You minx.” His eyes, dark with desire, follow your movements as you shift back onto the bed.

He knows what to do.

Placing a lingering kiss to your lips, you bite your lip in anticipation as he moves down down, his breath warm against your skin, as he trails kisses along your inner thigh. “I can’t believe I have you.” He murmurs to himself, his hands gliding over your hips.

“Let me take care of you,” he then whispers, his voice thick with need. Before you can respond, his mouth finds your most sensitive spot, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles that send waves of pleasure through your body. You gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as he works, his tongue alternating between gentle flicks and deep, languid strokes agaisnt your pussy.

Your body feels like jelly already, legs threatening to close over his head but Hunter’s hands spread your legs wider, his grip firm yet tender.

You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him, your chest rising and falling heavily as he looks up at you, his eyes locking with yours. Fuck, he’s beautiful. Truly. The intensity of his gaze makes your breath hitch and toh watch in awe as he sticks out his tongue, making sure you were watching as he leans in closer and flicks your pretty pearl. “That’s so good.” You sigh, on cloud 9.

He continues his pace for a minute before he dives back in, his tongue exploring every inch of you with a fervour that leaves you trembling. One hand moves to your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple, sending tingles down your spine.

Then, you feel his fingers replace his tongue, sliding inside you with ease, curling to hit that perfect spot. A wanton moan of surprise leaves your mouth, head falling back as you grip the sheets below you. “H-Hunter, don’t stop.”

You can feel his smirk once his mouth returns to your clit, sucking gently as his fingers pump in and out, the dual sensation driving you to the edge.

And he doesn’t let up, his pace relentless, and you feel the tension coiling tighter in your core until it snaps. You cry out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash over you, his name a litany on your lips as you cum all over his mouth. Your body becomes jelly, trembling as Hunter continues to move, drawing out your climax until you’re left breathless and practically boneless beneath him.

He crawls over you once you settle, a hand cupping your face. “Was that okay?” he asks, his voice tender, filled with genuine concern.

“Perfect,” you sigh, still completely spent. “I never thought this would happen,” you whisper.

He gazes down at you, smitten. “Me either. I’ve… I’ve wanted to do this for so long. To finally be with you.”

You lean up, stealing a kiss that he reciprocates eagerly. “Do you want more?” he asks, the implication of sex evident as you feel his cock press against you, hard and ready.

You still for a moment. A small pang of guilt surfaces—was it too soon to be doing this? But as you meet Hunter’s gaze, you see something you had never seen or felt with your ex: love. You always loved him, and you were now certain he had always loved you.

“You don’t have to ask twice,” you murmur, your voice soft but filled with resolve.

His eyes glimmer with excitement. He lifts himself slightly, grasping his cock with his right hand and guiding himself to your entrance. Running the tip along your sensitive puffy slit, a teasing moan falls from your lips that nearly makes him thrust right in—but he waits just a little longer, enjoying the gentle friction of his cock against your throbbing sex.

Propped up on his left arm, he admires your nude frame perfectly, your lower lips parting as he inches in just a little. “Oh… that feels…”

“I know,” he groans as he sheaths himself halfway into you, his eyelids heavy with pleasure.

And then, with a deep, satisfied groan, the sergeant pushes all the way inside.

You purse your lips but whine through them all the same, your expression pinching only momentarily before a laboured moan escapes, pleasure evident as he sinks inch after inch of his girth inside you. “You’re so thick in me,” you gasp, your back arching as he stills, remaining buried inside you. It’s a snug fit, but it feels right.

Hunter begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace. Each thrust is measured, savoring the way your body responds to him, the way you tighten around him with every stroke. His hands roam your body, one coming to rest on one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

Then, he picks up a new rhythm that feels achingly perfect, each thrust driving deeper, the friction igniting sparks of pleasure with every stroke. Your cunt clenched around his cock, your breasts bouncing up and down with each penetration into you.

“Oh fuck! D-don’t stop, don’t stop.” Your expression is one of pure lust, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, wanting him closer. “Deeper. Fuck me deeper.” You cry, eyes almost rolling into the back of your head as one hand grips your hips, the other circling your clit with a tense pace.

Soon he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his movements becoming more urgent. The room is filled with the sound of your bodies coming together, the steady slap of skin on skin, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more powerful, driving deeper.

“Hunter,” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes you both higher to another climax.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, voice heavy with want. He shifts slightly, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you, making you whimper out in ecstasy. The pleasure is overwhelming, building to a fever pitch, and you can feel another climax approaching fast.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you cum around me.”

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter around him, your body tensing and trembling as the orgasm rips through you as your hands tangle in his long hair. Hunter follows close behind, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he pulls out, his hand moving to stroke himself.

Hunter groans your name repetitively as he hits his high, hot ropes of his release splashing across your chest and stomach. He collapses beside you, wiping the sweat from his brow before pulling you into his arms, his breath mingling with yours in the aftermath.

After a while he gets up and gets something to clean you up with and once done, he lays back down beside you with your head buried into his chest.

For a moment, everything else fades away, and all that exists is the two of you, tangled in each other’s embrace. “It’s going to be okay, you know?” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

As you lie there, the warmth of his body against yours, the future suddenly seems a little less uncertain as long as you were with Hunter.

🫧Masterlist

🫧Hunter Works

Tags: @lulalovez @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter r @erellenora

#the bad batch #hunter x reader #the bad batch Hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hunter bad batch #bad batch hunter #the bad batch hunter #hunter tbb x reader #nahoney22 writes

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lakesbian · 4 months

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i have had like 10 friends rec worm to me but nobody’s given me a good like, gist of its vibe and what its abt because ‘its best blind’, could u please give a like brief summary and vibe check of it 😭 it’s so long i dont wanna try and invest that much time without knowing much abt it

so, worm is a 1.7 million word long webserial written in 2010. 1.7 million words seems like a lot, but it was also written over a relatively short period of time, which means the writing style is very easy to parse--the ideas aren't without complexity, but the language itself isn't intimidatingly dense. you can get through it at a very decent pace. i agree with your friends that there are vast portions of worm that hit best when you're unspoiled, but the thing is that worm is long enough that giving you the basic plot pitch is in no way spoilers for any of the things that i wouldn't want to see spoiled for someone. i'm actually kind of baffled they're not telling you Any Thing, because it is in my estimation one of the best books i've ever read, but it also Needs a briefing before you get into it for like five different reasons. which i will now provide. i swear to god this is brief by my standards it's just that i am very thorough

worm is a story about superheroes and supervillains, set in a world where superpowers are traumagenic--rather than appearing randomly or innately, some people gain powers after a traumatizing event happens to them. the protagonist is taylor hebert, a 15yo girl who has the power to control insects and desperately wants to be a superhero. and then accidentally finds herself scouted by a team of teenage villains instead. who's to say how she's going to react to all that!

one of the most compelling things about worm is that the superpowers in it serve as visceral, hyper-literal metaphors for the trauma and traumatized coping mechanisms of the characters with those powers. each power is incredibly specific and thematically relevant to the person who has it, and it's incredibly interesting and evocative. it feels so natural and well-done that it comes off like how superpowers are just meant to be written.

the fact that superpowers stem from trauma also means that worm is fundamentally a narrative about trauma. specifically, about traumatized teenagers and the relationships they form as they cling together while struggling through growing up traumatized & mutually coping with an increasingly intriguing, intense, and far-reaching escalating plot. worm's depictions of trauma + mental illness--including unpalatable trauma responses, including traumatized characters who are allowed to be complicated and nuanced and messy while still receiving narrative respect--are deeply real-feeling and impactful, and they're placed in the context of a well-spun + engaging story.

i really do have to stress how excellent the character writing is. worm is fully deserving of being as long as it is. over the course of 1.7 million words of character development, the average reader's reaction to the main characters goes from "sorta interesting" to "okay, i want to see where this goes" to "augh...really likable" to "i am now on hands and knees crying and these characters are going to stick around in my brain forever." wildbow has incredible talent for efficiently conveying complicated, real-feeling, and viscerally evocative characterization. many of the interlude chapters (chapters written from the perspective of different characters other than taylor) are so interesting, fleshed-out, and emotionally affecting that they make you wish you could read an entire novel about just the side character being featured. with that level of characterization for just the side cast, it's not surprising that taylor (& co) are genuinely just downright iconic. and i do not say that lightly--taylor is truly one of the best-written protagonists i've seen in anything. ever.

the other main pitch-point for worm is that it's a fascinating deconstruction/reconstruction/examination of the conceits of the superhero genre. it answers the question of--what would the world have to be like, for people with superpowers to act the way they do in classic cape media? and it does this well enough that it's interesting even if you have only a passing familiarity with cape media. i am not a big superhero media fan, but worm addresses virtually every aspect of cape media that was under the sun around 2010 in a way that's so interesting i still find it incredibly engaging. the approach it takes makes the narrative very accessible even to people who aren't usually cape media fans.

and speaking of the narrative: the end of the story is coherent and satisfying and deeply thematically resonant*. the way worm follows through on all of its main mysteries & plot threads is excellent. you don't have to worry about getting thru 1.7 million words and being dissatisfied by the author shitting the bed at the end, or anything like that. he does an amazing job of weaving together plot events in a way that makes each successive one feel rationally, thematically, and emotionally connected to what came before. there's really only one part where i feel the story stumbles a bit, but i think it was the best option he had for the narrative, and it's by no means a dealbreaker. it's in fact really impressive how cohesive and satisfying worm is for such a long webserial released over such a brief period of time.

*this is subjective ive seen some people who didnt love it but ive never seen anyone who downright Hated it who didnt also demonstrate egregious misunderstanding of literally everything worm is about. so thats a good sign

as for the downsides of worm/things that might put you off:

there is a very long list of trigger warnings for it. if you have any trigger warnings you want you should ask your friends to let you know about the relevant parts, because the fact that it's About Trauma (& about typical cape media circumstances presented very seriously) means that traumatic and violent things & their realistic aftermath are constantly happening and/or being discussed. i would not classify worm as needlessly dark or spiteful to the audience by any means, but it is intense and covers a lot of heavy topics. i do assume if your friends are all recommending it to you, they think none of the material would be too much for you, though!

worm was written in 2010 by a white cishet guy from canada. it's typical levels of 2010-era bigoted, it has a deeply lesbophobic stereotype character, it has some atrociously racist stereotype characters, the author really hates addicts, It's Got Blind Spots. i think worm is generally fully worth reading despite these, but very fair warning that it can get bad. i think what exacerbates this is that worm is generally extremely nuanced & sympathetic regarding ideas such as "crime is a result of systematic circumstance vs people just being inherently evil" and "mentally ill people who are traumatized in unpalatable ways are still deserving of fundamental respect as human beings" and so on and so forth, so it's extra noticeable and insufferable when you get to a topic the author has unexamined biases on and all that nuance drops out. the worst part is that a lot of this is most concentrated in the early arcs, so you have to get through them without being super attached to any of the characters yet. it is worth it though.

worm like. Does have a central straight relationship in it. and it's a very well written straight relationship for the most part and i like it quite a lot. but worm also passes the bechdel test with such flying colors that it enters 'unintentionally homoerotic' territory. which means a lot of people were shipping the main character ms taylor hebert with her female friends while the story was being released. which caused the author to get so mad he 1. posted a word of god to a forum loudly insisting that all of the girls are straight and 2. inserted a few deeply awkward and obvious and out of character scenes where he finds an excuse for the girls to more or less turn to the camera and go "i'm not gay, btw. this is platonic." This is fucking insufferable, and will piss you off immensely, but then you will get to any of the number of deeply emotionally affecting scenes between them, and at that point you will be too busy sniffling piteously and perhaps crytyping an analysis post on tumblr to be mad about all that other shit. also they're only a couple tiny portions out of an entire overall fantastic novel

overall: if those points don't sound like dealbreakers (i hope they aren't they're really massively outstripped by the amount of devastatingly good moments in worm, worm still has a thriving fandom over a decade later for a reason), you should absolutely give it a shot and see what you think. my final note is that you have to read up until the end of arc 8 to really see where what makes worm Worm kicks in, so aim for at least there to see how you feel about it if you're just thinking about dipping your toes in vs fully committing. i hope that was helpful and not too long :)

oh and don't go in the comments section on wordpress if you don't want spoilers. or anywhere else in the fandom at all. you will be spoiled. quite possibly for things you could not even have imagined were topics to be spoiled on.

#ask #wormblr #parahumans #ill tag it to save it so i can reference later. and maybe other people will find it helpful

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sandfordsmostwanted · 1 year

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No I don’t care about the new Velma series, but all these Scooby Doo posts have highlighted a deficiency in every Scooby Doo prequel idea. Yes, I’ve seen some amazing ideas for BFF Daphne and Shaggy content... ... but none for the untapped character goldmine of Freddie and Velma.

Like just picture it. The series is set in a American private school, where Velma is a POC scholarship kid, always looking to prove herself. She’s bullied relentlessly, but keeps her head down, because she’s getting into the Ivy League, damn it, and there’s no way these assholes are stopping her. She’s a whizz at anything to do with science and math and history and geography, but arts are a bit of a weakness, and she needs one more English credit to max out her resume. Her teacher offers her the opportunity to tutor another student to get the credit. The catch is it’s Fred Jones, the Dean’s son, and no-one can possibly find out. Velma’s initially pissed at having to spend so much time with this entitled brat. On the surface Fred Jones is everything you’d imagine him to be - a jock, a bro, loved by the ladies and part of the group that have always made Velma’s life hell. She dreads having to tutor him, until he turns up, and he’s genuinely appreciative and sweet. She doesn’t trust him; she’s been burned too many times before. But through the sessions they get to know each other better. They bond over their mutual love of engineering - Fred doesn’t have the technological vocabulary that Velma does, but he’s got an instinctive eye for when a mechanism would fail - and they both realise the other had more depths than they expected. Velma notices the bullies leave her alone now, and though she can’t thank Fred publicly, they share a few subtle smiles in the hallway. And then the plot of the series happens - a girl gets kidnapped from their school, and Velma’s on the case. She cancels her tutoring with Fred to sneak into the school to investigate. They run into hypercapable badass Daphne Blake and her emotional support Shaggy. Velma’s had a crush on Daphne for as long as she can remember, but her nerves make her even more snarky than usual, and the two spend most of their time bickering. Velma, Daphne and Shaggy also run into Fred in the school while they’re investigating; he left some sports stuff behind and came to retrieve it. Plot plot plot, meddling kids, mystery solved. Velma thinks everything’s going back to normal, but it doesn’t. Shaggy saved her a seat at lunch, and fills her tray with stuff he thinks she’ll enjoy (”And hey, you can sneak some of this in your pockets for when you’re at the library later!”) Daphne picks her first for her team in gym class. Fred tells his shitty mates to get fucked, and sits next to Velma in every class. And best of all, they start solving local mysteries together. As they become better friends, they learn more and more about each other. Fred tells Velma if she struggles with making eye contact with people to look at the bridge of their nose or over their shoulder, because that looks like you’re looking them in the eye without actually doing it. Velma tells Fred that “the writing swimming when you read” is called dyslexia, and types up their study notes in a easy to read font. Fred is the first friend Velma ever brings back to her tiny apartment than she shares with her parents, and he’s very appreciative of their home despite living in a straight up mansion himself. Velma learns that that mansion life isn’t all its cracked up to be. His parents work away a lot, and when they’re around, they’re shitty and waspy and make Fred feel small. Fred always texts Velma late at night telling her to stop studying and get some sleep, Velma always texts Fred to tell him to stop working out and get a snack. They’re fucking good for each other. It’s never romantic between them - never even close. Fred takes Velma’s coming out better than her parents did (”Why would I be upset that you like girls? Liking girls is great! I do it all the time!”) Velma tries her hardest not to be jealous when Fred and Daphne start dating - she never told him about her crush, and he’s not a mind reader. Who cares if she notices there’s chemistry between her and Daphne? She’s probably misreading the social cues, like usual. Besides, school’s nearly over now, and she’ll be off to college in a matter of weeks. Leaving it all behind her, just as she planned. Their final mystery is the biggest yet, and the only time the gang actually fear for their lives. The stress of the mystery, and the building resentment of Velma’s “I’m out of here” energy leads to a huge argument between Fred and Velma, and the gang splits four ways to try and solve this thing. Each of them face their own trial. Shaggy has to face his fear instead of running away. Daphne has to be herself without overcompensation with gadgets or gimmicks. She realises in this process that Velma is the one she’s always loved, and the two share a sincere kiss. Fred has to trust himself, and succeed by himself without the safety net of his family, his wealth or Velma. And Velma has to admit she needs her friends, and that she loves them deeply. The mystery is solved, and just like that, they’re all set to go their separate ways, this time for real. It’s the last day of finals. Velma hasn’t heard from Fred for almost a week now; her texts go unanswered. She knows he’s taking breaking up with Daphne harder than he’s letting on, though he’s happy Velma and Daphne are happy. She finishes her final paper and hands it in, thoughts of college in her mind as she stands on the school steps where it all began. A horn honks behind her. She turns. There’s a massive eyesore of a van parked outside. Velma didn’t even know you could get that many shades of neon green and blue, and the little orange flowers are wonky and she knows they’ve been painted by hand and with love. Daphne waves at her from the passenger’s seat, and Shaggy from the back. Fred is leaning against the Mystery Machine, twirling his keys in his hand. He’d traded the sleek, smart car his dad bought him and that he’s been driving all show for this new ride, and he asks if Velma feels like solving a mystery or two before heading off to college. Thus begins the adventures of Mystery Incorporated. (End credits song is “Life is a Highway” by Rascall Flatts because you know that’s white boy Freddie Jones’ favourite driving song)

#scooby doo #velma #velma dinkley #fred jones #freddie jones #daphne blake #shaggy rogers #norville rogers #scooby doo prequel #scooby doo meta #velma and daphne #hbo velma

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 2 years

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Yandere Best Friend

Tw: childhood abuse, divorced parents, bullying, violence, angstt, parental neglect

ageless blogs n minors DNI blease tq <3

my masterlist

hi guys after a long hiatus i come back , coping mechanism time

i wrote this like from 11pm to 3am in a frenzy so dont exepct much , ridden wih typos, contradiction,grandma misrake and idk if the reader here is fully gender neutral or i accidentally sprinkled some afab in there

thersras like a part 2 to this so eyah stayetuned

enjoys

He was there from the very beginning, that quiet boy from elementary that you shared your sandwich with when no one bats an eye at him.

He was quiet, you were considered uninteresting. Both of you are somewhat outcasts and the other children held no interest towards you and him. Perfect match for each other, instant best buddies, bonded by mutual loneliness.

Well, maybe, not instant. He was weary and so were you, it took a while before you gained his trust. He made sure you didn't stuff nasty, gritty bugs in that sandwich like how all the other kids would do. You made sure he didn't accept it just to throw it in your face.

Once it was established that you didn't add an extra ingredient and he isn't going to play bread frisbee, the door to a long and strong friendship was established. He doesn't have much to say, but he's never short on kind gestures when it comes to you. Are your bags heavy? Let him carry them, he's a strong boy; he drinks his milk and gets his healthy amount of sleep. You forgot to do your 5th grade long division homework? He is going to swap his completed homework sheets with your empty ones, he's okay with being scolded. He has some stupidly thick skin from what goes on at home.

Your yoyo is really cool, you said. You own that yoyo now. No, really, it's okay. He doesn't really need it and it made you happy when you had it in your small hands. Yes, it took him months of begging his busy, overworked, broken, divorced, struggling, knee-deep in debt dad and a couple of missed lunches to get that shiny yoyo, but he loves seeing your surprised expression and dazzling smile.

Oops, you spilled your drink all over another classmate's book, or you broke a window, or you dented a teacher's car. It doesn't matter how many people witness it, it doesn't matter what you say, he's responsible and will gracefully accept all repercussions and punishments even if that means receiving a couple more ugly bruises on his body that night.

Who doesn't like candy? He sure loves them. That's why, he uses up all his already scarce pocket money to buy you some. You protest, he's confused, don't you like candy? Yes, he knows he won't be eating a lot these few weeks because he can't afford it, but don't you like candy?

Are your hands dirty from eating all that chocolate? Here, use his white shirt as a napkin. No, really, it's okay! He's your friend, he would do anything for you... are your shoes muddy too?

Happy birthday! It's a very special day for you and him too, that's why, he saved up enough to buy you a tasty cake and a pair of beautiful promise rings made up of gold! Isn't that cool? Don't worry about how he got the money and please ignore the giant, bloodied cotton gauze on his head, please ignore his black eye, please ignore the strange burn marks on his limbs. His extra injuries are due to... him falling off a bike. You know that's not true. That's not how he got them. He is going to be really sad if you don't accept his gifts, better just shut up, smile, say thank you, kiss the boo-boos away, stuff your face with delicious cake and wear the damn ring.

Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, good night, goodbye, I love you and all the other greetings are something you hear everyday from him. Hm, the teachers are complaining that he isn't that polite to them or to the other children, all they get are silent blank stares at best, a scowl and a spitting hiss at worst.

Halloween's here, you're dressed up as a generic bedsheet ghost because its the cheapest to do. While he's dressed up as a horror movie survivor. Wow, the cuts, tattered clothes, blood, abuse marks and limping walks really sold the costume. But you and him both know very well that these aren't done using makeup or prosthetics.

You and him went on trick and treating quietly.

Aww, you both are so adorable. Candies for days. Your pumpkin buckets filled up quick, that's because your friend keeps piling his candy into yours.

Aren't chocolate bars his favorite? Yes, of course. They're so expensive, delicious and very unafforable. But why does he keep giving them to you and leaving none for himself? Because they're everyone's favorite, including yours, duh!

Such a young gentleman, he is the type to lay his coat over a puddle of water for you to cross over it.

Middle school is where children usually begin to explore the concept of romance. Maybe you saw him as a brother, maybe you weren't attracted to him at the time, maybe you wanted to put his devotion for you to the test. Whatever the reason was, you consistently friendzone him whenever he tried to court you.

But it's okay, he is willing to wait. He is willing to have his eyes sting with tears, heart broken over and over again. He is willing to grit his teeth and clench his fists while forcing a smile, watching you experiment with the idea of having a boyfriend or girlfriend with other people. He is willing to be the third wheel to every single one of your dates with other kids. Your friend is always going to be there for you no matter what, he is your unyielding safety net, he is your second choice, he is always the best alternative or default when the puppy love didn't work out. And, he found solace in that. Others come and go, he is the fucking constant.

Then, he is going to try his luck. He will do it over and over again. You're going to accept it one day.

Your friend loves flowers. He speaks the language and gives you bouquets of red roses and pink Camellias. You usually chuck it in a vase filled with water and let it wilt, they're going to be replaced anyways.

He found that the food in the cafeteria can be awful, with goopy expired milk, to half frozen pizzas, they're bound to cause some poor kid to puke their guts out later in the day. He is making sure you're not that kid, so, he dedicated what precious free time he had to hone his cooking skills. He is a busy boy, working god knows how many jobs a 12 year old can work in a day, just to fund this essential skill of his.

Middle schoolers can be so cruel, your friend may not look the most feminine, but it's the actions he does out of love that makes the children pick on him for being different. Ew! He likes flowers and cooking! Gross! Evil! Unnatural! Independent! So not Alpha!

It starts off rocky at first, bullies will sabotage him whenever they can, kick him while he's down. Ruin his stocks, call him names and vandalize his belongings, but he gets the last laugh when he makes fucking bank by selling warm, hearty, tasty meals. They're a big hit among the staff who have no time to cook for themselves and have half a brain to know eating from the cafeteria is a bad idea.

Of course, his beloved sweetheart gets to eat for free. And has the privilege to go for seconds, thirds, fourths, however much your stomach desires. Yours are always personalized to fit your palate and presented in the most appetizing way.

Soon, other children began buying his meals too. As it turns out, they fucking slap.

He began expanding, selling resold candies at a ridiculously marked up prices, but the way he marketed and packaged them, gave an illusion that he's selling a premium product. They sold out like hotcakes, while you ate wrapper after wrapper without needing to pay a single cent.

Hey, he really has a knack for business! He is raking in profits, bringing you out to eat, spoiling you with riches a self made, young entrepreneur would have, excelling in Business studies, Accounting, Mathematics and Psychology.

He began testing the limits of his trading empire, he began dabbling in service based business such as delivery, doing homework for a price, obtaining blackmail material... that is how he knew your homeroom teacher had an extramarital affair with the principal. Hmm... the principal seems to kiss his ass a lot and you get a bunch of privileges. You wonder why that happened.

His reputation grew as his shrewdness grew. Your friend was too intimidating to be bullied, as one of his business ventures includes hiring others to do some dirty work for him. You don't know the full extent of his giant conglomerate enterprise, and you don't want to know.

You remember seeing a female teacher handing him a wad of cash, her hair tousled, her clothes were messy, her lipstick smeared and weird stains were all over her body. For sure, she didn't just find it laying around in the boys' bathroom... and, there were a lot more boys requesting a bathroom break that day.

Your friend bought you the latest smartphone model on the same day too. You were disturbed with what you saw and the implications, so you asked if she even got anything out of working under him and... if she even agreed to work as... whatever she was. He just smiled, cup your cheek and told you to never, ever, ever, cheat in a relationship. Especially not with him.

He then followed up with his probably hundredth love confession for you. Which you promptly friendzone him again. Your friend would simply sigh and change the subject. Do you like your phone? He asked as you began unboxing it, the loud chatter from the mall's food court drowned the voice of doubt in your head.

His wallet is growing wider, he is growing taller, posture disciplined, voice deeper and he lost the majority of his baby fat. Giving him a sharper, meaner, leaner look, his physique is nothing to scoff at either. All those pastry batter mixing, soup stirring, skull bashing hustling and bustling sculpted those perfect abs and ass. His hair now has a healthy sheen to it since he can afford better things, his skin had no flaw and the protruding ribs on his chest is now covered up with muscular pecs.

Being pretty does have its' privileges, he observed a sale boost in his balance sheets.

Time waits for no man. Before you know it, the both of you are in Graduation togas. Smiling for the camera, you gave your friend bunny ears.

Your friend started worthless in everyone's eyes, something to poke fun at, a punching bag, forgettable and nothing serious. He transformed into this feared, revered, worshipped yet hated entity. Your friend no doubt made as many enemies as allies, that's just how it is in the business industry. Cold blooded, ruthless and absolutely bizarre to you.

He has obviously put some of the staff and students in horrible situations for his benefit and sometimes for your entertainment. They seem to genuinely see him as some sort of god, someone to cleanse them from all their sins. They... loved him. What a manipulative motherfucker.

As for you... your situation is pretty strange too. You are clearly the only person he cared about, the only person he truly ever loved and cherish. No one seem to conjure up the idea to use you against him. You seem... invisible, for the most part. And you are so grateful for that.

At least, that's what your friend wants you to think. You have no idea how many strings he has to pull to keep you safe and oblivious and innocent. You have no idea how much he had to spend to keep you pure and untainted. But, yeah. Keep believing its' due to some sort of cosmic karma system where you didn't incur any karmic debt.

It was the first time seeing his parents at this graduation ceremony, he never liked having you over at his house. They looked like how you imagined them; miserable, horrible, unhealthy and volatile. They really should not be seated next to each other, his parents looked like they're about to strangle each other and your friend at a moments' notice.

His father was smoking, plumes of grey wafted up in the open air. Ashes crumbled and dropped down to his lap. His necktie was undone and his office shirt was disheveled, much like his belt and scuffed shoes. It was a wonder how he's not escorted out of the venue yet.

His mother... she aged horribly. She looks irritated yet distant, she doesn't want to be here. Or does she not want to be with her ex husband? Maybe if they were separated by an opaque wall, the mood would be much more lifted. His mom wasn't mentioned a lot during conversations, you knew close to nothing except the fact that she gets him on the weekends.

Perhaps his mother is simply neglectful and not active, he did mention that its easier to prepare his sellable inventory during the weekends.

You're nervous to meet them, they're really unfriendly and they don't seem to care that much about their son's accomplishments.

Your friend gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. As if to soothe you from the sight of his less than ideal parents.

To you surprise, he just shot them an indifferent look before leading you away. Their relationships must be unsalvageable.

The event comes to an end, your friend mingled with everyone who, the majority, had clenched fists behind their back. He then went to socialize with your parents, he knew them well and they also knew them well. Their opinions on him are lovely.

He continued his endeavors, trying out many different ventures. It was extremely dizzying with the sheer amount of businesses he had. Your friend moved out of his parents' house(s) and struggled with finding a place for a while. So he stayed over at your parents' house with you for the time being. You get to wake up to the smell of deliciousness every morning, the plants would be watered, furniture dusted, home sparkling clean. Though, he was rarely around.

Eventually, he found his footing and lived in his own place. It's a little cramped and it could qualify as a weapon of psychological warfare, but that was all he could afford at the time.

He fought tooth and nail to obtain a massive bank loan for his main business plan, he was stressing over opening his first restaurant. The logistics of it all, the raw materials, the hired help, the equipment, the advertising-- the pressure of it all was enough to break the average person, but not him. Oh, he thrived on this. He was calculating, he knew the costs, the risks and he saved up enough for a rainy day.

It took him many months, many trips to the bank, many meetings, many phone calls, emails, uncountable hours working 3 jobs a day, an eternity in the kitchen, in the sweltering heat of lit stoves heating up pots and pans, many times where he would lose his voice from aggressive marketing, persuasion, severe sleep deprivation, starvation, networking, tears, blood and sweat. There were more times than you can count with your hands that he was almost driven to insanity if it wasn't for you.

The thought of you alone was more than enough to ground him and keep his eyes on the prize, he is going to make so much money that, you and he wouldn't ever have to work ever again. You both would live happily ever after as a married couple, comfortable and never needing to worry if he could afford the next meal or keep the lights on.

That's nice. You wouldn't need to know what he went through, he doesn't want you to go through a life of hardship like how he did. You wouldn't ever need to work a day in your life.

Your friend rubbed his aching, calloused hands, ridden with cuts and scars. The golden promise ring sits around his finger, it wasn't his to begin with, he stole them from his parents when you both were kids. He found solitude knowing that your hands will never be like his, your back will not ache from overexertion, your muscles will be relaxed and your mind will be quiet, at peace. But only if he kept going. Only if he does not give up.

Everything he does, he does it for you. He thought to himself, as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes staring at the screen of his phone. It's showing that 5 more customers placed an order for his famous party platter through a popular social media app. Your friend sighed as he tucks his phone away before opening the door to his mini fridge containing all the ingredients needed for the orders. It's 11pm, he has to be at one of his workplaces at 6am tomorrow.

The day finally came where he would open the doors to his very own restaurant. There was a crowd waiting in front of the shiny, polished glass doors.

His team of service crews, cooks and baristas anxiously watched on as your friend glanced at his old, marred and cracked wristwatch. His hand was tightly gripping on the door handles as he watched the minute hand twitched. His eyes and mouth were dry, probably due to the dehydration he endured for a while now.

As soon as his accessory shows that it's time for the grand opening, he opened the floodgates.

Customers come rushing in like a torrent of water in a river. Some new, some old, some here to do their jobs as a journalist, some are his other associates, some are his estranged relatives, some are his rivals. It was an assortment of people, a mixed bag.

The Chefs are cooking up a storm in the kitchen, the wait staff are serving customers left and right, bringing them to their tables. Baristas are whipping up as much drinks as they can, as perfectly as they can. Not a single foam bubble out of place, or else all those training would have gone to waste.

It was loud, busy and fiery. Chaos yet it was controlled, Disorder but it was ordered.

Your friend was leading the flow, the rhythm. The pulse of the restaurant depended on him. He made sure everything is in line, satisfaction at an all time high and disappointment non existent. He barked commands, firm and domineering, he controls the scene with an iron hand.

Waitstaff were trained to strike up friendly conversations with customers whose orders will take a longer time, to give the illusion of speed. Cheery faces, toothy smiles, giggles and laughter filled the establishment's air, alluring aroma of cooked goods filled everyone's nostrils, making many stomachs growl. It was colourful, it was tumultuously harmonic, expression of glee would made its way to the patrons' face when their dishes gets served. All the meals go beyond their expectations, in terms of smell, texture, taste and plating.

Your friend made sure that the cooling system was working perfectly, as he works in a kitchen, the easiest way to get snappy and grumpy is to be hungry in an oven. Calming music that's faintly playing in the background also helps, but its' mostly for him and the other staff. Everyone else is too occupied with their own matters to notice.

Today should be a day of accomplishment, happiness and gratitude. Why shouldn't it be? Revenue is projected to be high, profits are guaranteed and expected to go through the roof. Logically, this restaurant will be sustainable for many decades to come.

But your friend... he is getting antsy, upset, distressed, unhappy. His staff is noticing that he isn't all there, he's getting crabbier by the second. They were baffled, everything is going well, he is handling it wonderfully and the pressure is actually slightly dying down.

Where are you? He had scanned the dining area many many times now. No sign of you... but your parents were there. That somewhat calmed him down a bit, if they're there, you should be there too... right? You're probably at the salad counter or the bathroom. He anxiously massaged his hands, where are you?

He trusts his staff to handle everything on their own. He decided to take big strides towards your parents. Your friend greeted them with a warm smile, an animated Hello. Your parents mirrored him and returned the affability.

He was desperate to see you again... oh god, how long has it been since he last saw you? Hear your voice? It must have been months. As this realization dawned on him, he felt the coldest chill run down his spine.

Did he... unintentionally neglected you in the process of building the perfect life? No, that can't be. He sent you texts everyday.

He clenched his jaw and pushed his gnawing thought away momentarily. He made small talk with your parents. It was fine until he abruptly cut them off and got to the point; Where are you?

Your parents glanced at each other and a look of discomfort washed over them. Your friend was using the table to support his weight as he leaned forward. His knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the furniture too tightly.

They're studying abroad. They said. Your friend froze in place and widened his eyes.

What? Why didn't you tell him? Why didn't he know? Why--

He hastily whipped his phone out and frantically tapped on his cracked screen.

He trembled as he realized you never received his texts, let alone read it.

Your parents explained to him that you changed phone numbers two years ago when you left to continue your studies abroad.

Two years...? Its been two fucking years?!

Your friend began hyperventilating, his face was flushed and he was gagging and gasping. No, no, no this can't be. He is nothing like his parents! You meant everything to him, he had never intend to ignore you, he had never meant to neglect you! Your friend is losing grip on himself, he is shaking like a leaf. No one paid any attention to him, as he is simply insignificant at the moment.

Please... I-I need to call them, please let me call them! He was choking on his tears that were streaming down his face, dripping onto the pristine floors below.

Your father handed him his phone, your new number already dialed.

They're probably having an exam today. Your father tried to warn your friend, but he didn't hear a word. All he could think was you.

Your friend snatched it out from his hand and made a dash past all the staff, customers, chefs...

Until he reached the back door, upon which, he exited through it.

He sobbed, pressing the device against his ear, listening to it beep indefinitely.

The call eventually dropped because it wasn't picked up. His face was scrunched and his sniffles were bouncing off the walls and green dumpster nearby.

He tried again. The call dropped. He tried again. The call dropped.

He tried again,

Your friend crouched down to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest. His cries unheard by anyone, everyone else is in the restaurant. He is the only one at the back.

The call dropped.

I'm sorry. He mumbled repeatedly to himself.

He tried again.

I'm so sorry. He sobbed much harder this time, he cradled his face in his hand.

The call dropped.

Please forgive me. He squeezed his arm, his fingernails digging into his flesh.

He tried again.

You're always my number one. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have neglected you. He drew blood from piercing his skin with his nails.

The call dropped.

I'm sorry, I was only trying to build a better life for us. He took much shallower breaths.

He tried again

I would give up everything just to hear from you again, it means nothing to me if you're not here... with me. Please, I'm sorry. He was growing despondent, desolate. He was clutching his head, a ball of quivering mess.

The call dropped.

I love you. He whispered as he broke down completely. Angry at himself, angry at the world, angry at everything. Life isn't fair. He has done everything he needed to do and yet he the only reward he ever wanted isn't granted; you. He ruined everything, all of it, all his hard work, all of it was worthless. He felt worthless. The guilt and remorse and anguish of being a neglectful friend and partner was crushing him to death.

He wasn't there at the very end.

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criminalskies · 6 months

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Not Alone. Aaron Hotchner x GN!reader

Hi all! so, this is actually a birthday gift to a beautiful friend and mutual who has been struggling recently. I heard him say that Aaron would not be proud of him at this very point in time, and well. I just couldn’t disagree more. So! That sparked this. I hope all of you reading can hear the message I originally intended to shine through the words. <3 And Happy Birthday, Casper!!!!! @softhairedhotch

word count: 3,400.

THIS IS HEAAAAAAVY ON THE HURT AND HEAVY ON THE COMFORT SO PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!

This fic contains: graphic depictions of depression/depressing imagery. Brief mentions of alcoholism/alcohol as a coping mechanism. Some allusions to suicidal thoughts and loneliness/bullying. Mentions of reader shaving and accidental cuts (no mentions of where on their body). Mentions of caffeine consumption.* *not tagging due to the heavy themes in this particular fic, I don't want to pressure anyone into reading if they aren't completely comfortable*

Numb. The only way to describe the way you’ve been feeling, or rather, unfeeling lately. What you know to have been weeks, feels like months, could have been years stretching on and on feeling this way. You have, of course had moments of joy and happiness, seemingly outnumbered by those where you’ve felt a kind of misery seeping in through the windows at night, staining your carpet with its seething despair. You’ve been trying and trying and trying to avoid it, standing on the furniture as it rises and rises. Now you must be clinging to your raised curtain like a cat, trying still to escape the dreary fog.

Of course, you wake up every morning, noticing there is no stain at all. The sunny daylight bleaches every fiber in sight and washes away all your signs of last night’s struggle. You turn off your blaring alarm, wipe a restless sleep from your eyes and have to get on with your day. Every. Damn. Day. You throw on your uniform and you begin the endless trudge to Quantico. You can’t help but look around on your long commute, wondering if every other train passenger feels the same way you do. You see the same faces appearing time and time again, expressionless on their way to their same mind numbing 9 to 5. But surely, not everybody feels this weighed down. Not everybody feels like their boots are packed with lead and every step is in the wrong direction. They can’t all have been pushed to their last limit, violating every rule they set for themselves because they just can’t deny themselves a moment’s pleasure. A moment’s reprieve in a world that is otherwise frankly draining.

Looking around, you note the absence of a particular man you’ve labelled Hat Guy. Until two days ago, you saw this man every morning on the same commute. He’ll often share a row with Newspaper Dude and sit in their comfortable silence. They never greet each other, though. In fact, you wonder if any of these people find the same brimming sense of familiarity and calm that you feel seeing the same faces each day. Actually, do any of them even know you? Would they notice if you stopped riding this train? If you were here every day for the past who knows how many months and then you weren’t?

Luckily, that crisis is cut off by the shrill sound of the doors grating open, you’re finally at your stop. You pick up your daily energy drink from the corner store before beginning your short hike to Quantico’s FBI Headquarters. Greeting the guards at the security checkpoint, you’re predictably asked to remove your bag and belt, putting your drink aside while you make your way through the scanners. The metal alarm sounds as you rush to explain to the guards you have a plate in your arm from an injury as a child. The guards seem equally surprised by this every day. Every day the same. You’re starting to wonder if you’re actually living the plot of groundhog day as the younger, more by-the-books guard picks up the metal detector wand, waving it over your body ‘Just to be sure’. You narrowly avoid telling him, like every single morning. that you’re quite literally one of a few people entering this building without a gun on your hip. There are about a thousand armed agents he should be more concerned with than you.

You take the elevator up to the sixth floor, barely needing to glance ahead of you to know the path towards the BAU doors like the back of your hand. You push through the doors, the ever predictable Dr Reid being the first to turn and notice your figure trudging past his desk.

“Morning.” He offers you a tight lipped smile as you note that he’s never even greeted you by name. If he didn’t have an eidetic memory you’d be convinced he didn’t know it.

“Morning, Reid.” You offer him a similarly forced little smile as you trudge by the other familiar faces of your coworkers, all too absorbed in their work or in quite literally anything more interesting than you, you suppose. You set down your things with a sigh, shedding your jacket over the chair and looking over to see your three fellow evidence technicians deep in conversation, all sat around your ex-partner’s desk, laughing about how much they enjoyed going out for karaoke with the team’s field agents last night. None of them seem to notice your presence as you wake your computer and start rummaging through your desk drawers for your notepad, yesterday’s nearly finished evidence logs, pens and a calculator.

One of your peers laughs so hard at a joke the infamous Derek Morgan made that she tips backwards, her hand flying out to catch her as it collides with the cold metal of your energy drink, spilling it all over your desk. The fizzy liquid quickly soaks into the loose pages of your entire week’s work as you just watch the can gulp more and more sticky drink over your things. You raise your hands to your head, taking a moment to breathe and tell yourself that you can redo the work. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Things can be replaced. It’s just useless. Seriously, what’s the point of trying anyway if everything is just ruined in the end? This is always the way it goes. You feel before you see the now empty can picked up and placed gently into the wastebasket by your desk, a long set of legs planting two shiny soles beside your chair as a throat clears, loudly beside you.

The room comes to a grinding halt, your coworkers piling off the desks around yours, clambering to their feet to face their very unimpressed boss.

“Agent Summers.” You hear a cold but familiar tone directed at the particular ass which collided with your morning caffeine.

“Yes? Um, sir.” She stutters, clearly surprised to be greeted at 9:02 sharp with such a directed reprimand.

“Clean this mess up, please. This is furniture, not a playground. We don’t go swinging beverages over important documents. Although, I expect since you and your colleagues were meeting in your paid hours, you guys can come up with some plan to make up for this lost work? I trust you can make out which documents you just carelessly ruined on your own?”

“U-Um, yes, sir. I’m sure we can, We can fix these-” She began peeling the dripping messes of paper off the desk as Agent Hotchner carefully wheeled your chair back just out of the splash zone.

“Good. And don’t let this happen again.” He gave one last icy stare to the group of fools you once called friends as he carefully moved a hand to your shoulder. He bent down closer to you as his tone turned to one of delicate care. “Come with me.” He offered you a very neutral, soft expression as you pulled yourself to your feet, willing to just move one in front of the other, like always, and stay calm. Whatever he’s about to hit you with, you probably deserve it.

It’s worth noting that you and Agent Hotchner had been in a sort of dance for months now, both of you had clearly been harbouring feelings for one another but each time one of you took a small step forwards, the other was nearly sent flying back. It was torture. His unwillingness to just be seen as even a little bit unprofessional even once in his life made it impossible to read him as anything other than neutral, if not even a little off-put by your continued presence in his life. Your building anxiety over his indeterminable feelings for you eventually led to the mounds of dead weight you’re now forced to carry with you day to day. The notion you weren’t enough for him to risk his reputation for and the nagging feeling that he only ever did what was right or polite of him to do towards you, and no feelings ever really existed for you continues to burn your throat where your loving words had once died trying to work their way to him. In any case, you’ve been actively avoiding him ever since your strong feelings of regret towards him began following you around like a bad smell.

You follow him up the stairs to his office where his blinds are already drawn, his hand resting on the door as he allows you in before shutting it behind you. You walk towards the chairs opposite his desk, ready to be fired honestly for someone finally noticing your sluggish and lazy work ethic these past few months, only to be stopped in your tracks.

“Not there. Over here, please.” You turn and see Aaron gesturing to the small couch by the window. You take a seat, pointedly staring at your now stained work pants as you feel Hotch lower himself onto the couch next to you. You sit for a moment, hand fiddling with the seam of your pants at your side while you await your doomed fate.

“Y/N. Please, try to look at me when I say this.” Your head turns towards the more seasoned agent, but your eyes stay glued on your reflection in his overpolished shoes. “I’m worried about you.” You’re caught off guard by this, fully expecting the reprimand of the century for your lackluster job performance. You turn to him fully now, a frown pulling at your features as you try to think of what to say next.

“You mean… like, worried about my job performance, or?” He doesn’t care. Mister professional, mister perfectly fine can only care about one thing and it’s this unit.

“No. I mean you. Come on, Y/N. You think a seasoned FBI Profiler can’t notice when somebody is clearly struggling?” You resent that he had to say clearly, as if all of your efforts to hide your anguish and your pain have been for nothing, if it’s as clear as day anyway. “I don’t say this just to hurt you. I want to help you. I’ve seen you shrugging off every person who tries getting close to you recently, and I don’t want to let that happen here. I can’t let you push me away.” The gentle tone of Aaron’s voice drifting through the narrow space between the two of you almost moved you to tears. His offer to help you hanging in the air while you took a deep breath, trying to keep the beads in your eyes at bay.

“I don’t know how to fix this, Hotch. Even if I wanted to let you help. Everything I’ve tried has only made this worse. I can’t get out. I come close but then each time I think I have a handle on my senses, I end up sinking further from the surface again.” You hear your boss actually take an audible gulp. His throat is tightening hearing you admit you’ve been struggling this much. The way your voice keeps wavering mid sentence is making his chest feel tight. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep treading water, Aaron. I’m tired. I’m so, so tired. There’s just no end to this.” You bury your head in your hands, only when your palms meet your cheeks do you realise they’re wet with tears you’ve held back for too long. The dam has burst.

“You start by admitting you’re not okay. You start by talking to a friend, or even just someone you can bear, and you admit that one person cannot move this mountain alone. You just did that.” A warm hand lands on your shaking shoulder as you move to sit more upright again, finally turning to look at the kind soul seated next to you. ‘Someone you can bear’ you note that this must be the sentiment aaron thinks he holds in your mind. God you’ve made such a mess of things. “It’s hard. I can’t pretend that reaching the other side of this is easy, or even that it’s fast… or linear. There are a dozen ups and downs and it’s so so slow going, but one day, you look up and it dawns on you that you haven’t been carrying such a weight around for a while. You realise it’s lifted. Little by little, without you even knowing, it got better… It does get better, Y/N. It did for me, at least.”

You face the older man fully now, searching those deep, soulful eyes of his for the slightest hint that he’s lying. That he’s making this up just so you won’t stop treading water.

“And I was like you. I won’t lie. I thought I was handling it, and I was handling it, and even as I lost my handle on it, I refused to let people in. To let them even see how bad things were. I couldn’t face my own employees knowing they’d seen me so weak or so vulnerable. I thought they’d all be disappointed to learn their unshakeable unbreakable boss was exactly as terrified and shattered as a person can be. But, you start with a conversation, and then you start changing the way you talk to yourself. The way you treat yourself. If we treated ourselves half as well as we’re willing to treat other people, I really think we’d live an awful lot longer. Fuller lives, too. But, I digress. I just wanted to say that I’m in no way disappointed in you. In fact I’m proud of you. Every day, no matter how bad you’ve been feeling, you have walked through that door and you have tried, even for a second, greeting this unit with a smile. Every day you’ve tried. Even if there was a whiff of alcohol on your breath from the long night before, or if you had to take home half your work for the day, trying to complete a respectable amount even though your brain is so clouded with shit that you can’t even find the lead end of a pencil. Even the mornings you’ve come in with fresh nicks and cuts from shaving yourself with shaking hands. I have been proud of you. You’ve never quit trying.”

You swear you must be staring at Aaron like he has three heads by now. He saw everything. He saw right through you, all of your greatest faults and flaws, and he felt… pride? You feel a gasp rip through your chest, your now thick lens of tears in your eyes making it hard to tell if this is a dream, finally, the sweet dreams you’ve been hoping would interrupt the endless cacophony of hurt you’ve felt every night as you tossed and turned in restless sleep. Aaron’s weight shuffles closer to you on the couch as he moves to wrap his arms around you. Seeing your trembling form blubber beside him was beginning to make his chest physically ache as he saw himself in you. He thinks maybe that’s why he’s so inclined to help you. You helped him. The part of his story he didn’t disclose, was that the moment he realised the weight had long since left his shoulders, was the same moment he saw you setting down your things at a desk in the bullpen. Your quirked smile as you bounced from foot to foot, shaking your new colleagues hands had cut through the ashy gray of his known world like a beam of light. He had only then noticed that his back had stopped aching from carrying all of his grief with him.

Right now, he pulls you into him as your fists ball in his neatly pressed shirt in the back, his cupped hand finds the back of your head and he instinctively rocks a little, side to side, his hand smoothing over your mess of hair so gently. The two of you feel yourselves drifting slowly apart from the flow of time as you sit there, heart to heart. All of your months of stress and heartache and dread finally move away from the forefront of your mind, drawn to the back for once, out of the spotlight. You can’t help but wonder if Aaron’s hand is a magnet for negative thoughts, but surely that is a thing of fiction. His smoothing motions over your slowing mind sure are dulling the terror and sadness that usually run rampant through your every synapse, though. Your mind feels almost clear when you pull back from Aaron, sniffling and removing your hands from his now very wrinkled, tear stained shirt as his arms loosen their hold around you.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be. You are more important to me. Okay?”

“Okay… then can I at least apologise for being such an ass every time you tried asking me out?” You look at the wonderful, sensitive, caring man before you and cross your every finger, toe and hair follicle that he’ll let you express your regret for the way you acted towards him. He clearly doesn’t deserve to be treated so hot and cold.

“Pfft, only if you let me apologise for your probable whiplash the morning I scolded you for trying to take everyone’s coffee orders in a classified briefing right after I’d told you I had feelings for you the night before. I think I was trying to appear impartial to you but I very, very badly overcompensated and swung the other way towards disdain. If anyone should apologise for you not meeting me on the roof for dinner, it’s me. That was my own doing.”

“Wait, that was you going for impartial? You threatened to charge me with Unauthorised Disclosure if you saw me even blink at Morgan’s open casefile again.” Now it’s Hotch’s turn to bring his hands to his face and groan.

“God. Maybe impartial isn’t my strong suit. Actually, maybe dating isn’t my strong suit. But, dating or not, I really want to make sure you have someone in your corner for this. Even if you’d rather that’s Garcia, or, or Rossi. I just need to know you’re not alone. That you know you’re far from alone.”

“I think you’re about the only person who’s been able to draw me out of my own head in months, Aaron. I really think you’re the best person for me to turn to here. Besides, it sounds like however far you’ve come since you were, um, treading water, you could maybe use somebody in your corner too. I’d like to do that for you.” You only notice now that the other agent had let go of you completely when he relented his role to the other agents in the unit. You make the move this time to be the one to put a warm hand on Aaron’s shoulder. Letting him know he’s also not alone. “Deal?” You offer your spare hand for him to shake. You think for a moment you catch sight of the stone-faced agent’s chin wobbling as he steadies himself in your grasp and moves to hold your hand, not shaking it. Interlacing both of your fingers between your laps where your bodies are exchanging the same warmth.

“Deal” He offers you a shaky smile, letting a moment pass before he turns, checking the blinds are still closed and that time isn’t really at a standstill since you two fused with this couch. “Now, let me try look up what can get Mango Loco Monster out of cotton workpants.” He stands, moving to his desk too swiftly to peel open his laptop. You don’t miss the moment where he brings a knuckle up to his eye, wiping a stray tear onto his own pants as he rounds the desk.

In that moment, you decide that you don’t particularly care if none of the other commuters, none of the other evidence technicians or even the field agents know you exist or notice your absence. You know now more than ever that you’re not nearly as alone as you thought you were. Once Aaron Hotchner is in your corner, he’s immovable. Destined to remind you that you’re worthy of love and of pride, even in your darkest moments. And you, in his.

banners custom designed by @ssaahthings please do not copy without permission from the artist. <3 thank you.

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hamliet · 2 months

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What do you think of Huskerdust as a ship? Do you think they’ll be a healing and safe place for each other or do you think they will be more angsty in season 2?

It's OTP. But for your question:

Let's be honest, Husk is going to mess up. Angel casting longing glances after him when Husk is turned away this season = Husk doesn't know that Angel is falling for him. Angel has been used in hell; Husk has used as a soul gambler.

Now, I don't think Husk will take advantage of Angel in any way. I see Husk's issue as being probably unable to understand that Angel is really falling for him, genuinely--especially since Angel kept coming onto him as a form of self-harm earlier. Probably out of genuine feeling, but Angel has 0 idea how to express attraction in a healthy way and is only just starting to learn how to do that.

I'm not entirely sure where Husk's arc will go, but I wonder if he's going to struggle with the idea of self-love. I don't know that he'll trust that Angel genuinely loves him, and I don't know that he'll see himself as someone who is good for Angel even if the feelings are mutual. Husk strikes me as the gruff "in denial" type, but I could be wrong about this. We'll see.

It's just that Angel's protection mechanism is pretending he's FINE thank you and overcompensating for his self-loathing with acting like he loves his situation in hell and has it all under control. Husk is the opposite: he's okay with being a loser, which is good because that's exactly how he challenges Angel to grow: by accepting that he doesn't have to be in control or winning all the time.

Considering their names and symbolism, I wonder if Husk might have a hard time accepting that he can be more than, well, a husk. That he doesn't have to stay a loser, or that he can be both loser and "angel,"and an Angel can choose him.

But yeah. That's speculation. The tl;dr is that I expect Husk to break Angel's heart for a bit, only for them to overcome it together in a thematic and climactic moment that depicts everything HH is trying to say about love, redemption, forgiveness, and grace.

#ask hamliet #huskerdust #hazbin hotel husk #husk #angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel meta #hazbin hotel theory

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adventuringblind · 10 months

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Butterflies on You Skin

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: angst and hurt/comfort

Request: No, this is entirely self indulgent

Summary: Sometimes, the coping mechanisms we create aren't the ones we need...

Warnings: graphic images if SH

Notes: I do not in any way condone SH. I used to read fics like this when I was going through it and it helped. Like somehow reading about fictional me doing it and then getting help allowed he to have those same sensations. My point being that I am struggling at the time I'm writing this and I'm determined to stay clean (almost two years!). This helps me and I hope it helps someone else out there too. Remeber you're not alone ❤️

Masterlist

People don't understand that pain can become addicting. When you've been through so much of it, all of it not by choice, choosing the pain feels like a release.

She knows it's wrong. She knows there are better ways of dealing with things. But she can't see to stop herself.

It's her way of reminding herself she has power and control. She picks where the knife goes and how deep it cuts into her skin. She chooses when and where it happens.

It was something she needed and relied on for so long. Until she met Oscar.

They were teenagers when they met. Some birthday party for a mutual friend. Both of them left feeling out of place, so they gravitated towards each other.

Phone numbers were exchanged.

They spent far too much time talking to each other. She felt that he kept her down to earth. That no matter the bad things that happened, he would be there. Even replacing the knife occasionally.

He found her intriguing. Her perspectives on life and her dreams for the future. Her head had a tendency to get stuck in the clouds, but he didn't mind. He likes listening to her talk.

When they both graduate, he invites her to his races. Watching him felt fulfilling in a way, and she likes the traveling.

Yet when she's alone. Her head is sending her to places she can't come back from. When she needs the sting she's come to crave, she's spending the night with her knife.

When Oscar finishes his f2 career and becomes the third driver for Alpine, he ends up confessing his feelings for her. Something she's been wanting to do for years but never could.

A week later, he's kissing her. Her heads find the clouds easily after that. Something about his presence and how he is so genuine clears away the hurricane that is her thoughts.

Being a third driver means Oscar does have a bit more free time. He gets to go home to see her more often. Something she's not used to.

The Australian gets home late one night. He comes in quietly since he figures she's already asleep.

Oh, how terribly wrong he is.

She'd had a fight with her family earlier that day. Her parents have never been good at communication, and they still claim they gave her a better life than what they had. Which is true, she thinks.

She has no reason to be sad.

Another reason to draw the sharp edge across her skin. Another thin red line to add to the ever growing tally.

Oscar sees the bathroom door closed and the light turned on. He hears the clatter next. He presses his ear to the door. Debating whether to make his presence known or if that would scare her more than if he waited.

The hiss of pain is what gets him. "Love? Are you alright?" All movement on the other side stops. Then the clatter again.

She hates when she gets sloppy. She knows she's gone too far, and Kscar wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow.

She stares down at the crimson colored lines. The contents of the wounds coat her skin at dripping to the floor.

"Love? Please answer."

But she can't answer. what is she supposed to say? That her unhealthy coping mechanism is finally becoming her undoing. The she's tried to stop but the sensation is something she's learned to crave?

Oscar tried the handle. Received to find it unlocked. He opens just a small crack. He's never been one to invade her privacy.

The look of pain in his eyes makes her sob. He dosent move when he sees her. His mind trying to register what he's seeing.

How had he never noticed until now?

He can tell she’s panicking. He gently moves himself to the floor, grabbing a towel as he goes. He doesn’t say anything, just gently start to clean her up.

When he’s successfully disinfected the wounds and has bandages them up, he lead her into their room.

“I know it’s hard, but we have to talk about it.”

She just shakes her head in response. He deserves an explanation. Really, he deserves someone better.

She just tells him everything. Basks in the gentleness of his voice and warmth of his touch as she does so.

She was expecting him to leave. Her mind convinced she was unlovable in her state. After all, who could fall in love with someone who crave the sting of a knife?

But she was wrong.

Oscar was somehow filled with a new sense of purpose and they found themselves working together to help her pull through to the other side. A reminder that she is far from alone.

He’s quick to find a way to help her and when he does it feels almost magical.

The butterfly project. The goal is to not kill the butterflies.

They start small. She puts the butterfly on her hand. Just a simple doodle.

It doesn’t last long and she’s crying over the fact she killed it.

The next time around there are two butterflies. One on her and one in Oscar. His drawing take much more time. His deliberate design giving her more motivation to not ruin it.

It’s gone in two weeks and she relapses that day. Yet the fact she made it that far was an accomplishment.

Soon the butterflies are everywhere. Both their arms covered.

It became something she did when she was bored. Her hands drawing the bugs in every open surface.

It was difficult and she slipped but she was getting better.

Oscar was so incredibly proud of her. He got asked frequently about the creatures that littered his skin. He just said he liked them and so does his girlfriend.

When Oscar started with McLaren, Lando noticed them immediately. “If you ever need to talk I’m here if you want.” Oscar shoots him a confused look before remembering the lovely blue butterfly colored in with Sharpie placed in the middle of his forearm.

So she's made it to a year. Sure, she's slipped here and there, but it's nothing like it used to be. It's something to celebrate.

Oscar spends the entire day with her. Praising her acomplishment and reminding her how proud he is if her and how proud she should be of herself.

She is proud. It's something she never thought she could do. Not on her own, at least.

It's Oscar that helped her through and the butterflies in her skin.

Now she's has a permanent one. A reminder she came through to the other side. A reminder that she is not alone. Most importantly, a reminder she's loved.

Remember you're not alone.

This was somewhat based on a true story. Here's my reminder to myself every day that I'm not done yet, and neither are you. Keep fighting loves ❤️

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delusinaldreamer19 · 2 months

Text

Sebaciel vs. Dadbastian, an analytical essay (not really)

Oh boy am I excited and terrified to start this discussion.

I’m just going to say right off the bat that I am absolutely biased towards one interpretation of Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship over the other, that being Dadbastian. However, my goal is not to criticize, but to analyze and point out the differences and, yes, correlations between the two versions of their relationship.

I’m going to start off by making a disgustingly blatant assumption about the reason why I believe both of these pairings exist in the form of a theory...Both the idea of Sebaciel and Dadbastian are coping mechanisms taken on by fans of the series to grapple with how dark the character’s canonical relationship truly is.

Now, I can’t speak for how much this really applies to Sebaciel shippers, as I am not one. But it certainly applies to me as someone who enjoys the idea of Dadbastian.

Let's start with the correlations that support this theory. Both of these concepts are versions of Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship that is more positive than it actually is. The plot of black Butler revolves around the fact that Ciel sold his soul to the demon he named Sebastian, and that upon their contract's completion Sebastian will kill Ciel and consume his soul as compensation. It’s a relationship that is predatory, manipulative, and just simply toxic for a plethora of reasons. While the manga is still ongoing so we have no definitive way of knowing exactly how their story will end, I don’t think it's controversial to say that it's very unlikely to have a happy ending.

Even so, black butler is a comfort series for many, including myself. But how is that possible?

By looking at the series as a whole and the characters through different lenses. A pro and con of black butler is that it’s very easy to interpret in many different ways, and the same applies to the relationship between Sebastian and Ciel.

I’d say there's 2 to 3 main ways that people have interpreted their relationship. In no particular order… - As it is in the series, where it’s strictly based on business and mutual benefit. They work together so that Ciel can get his revenge and Sebastian gets his soul. - Them being friends / frenemies - A ship, where they have romantic feelings for each other. (I’m not going to be discussing how people ship them for sexual reasons, as that's a topic for a different day.) - And Parental, where Sebastian serves as a father/mother (no I'm not specifying which) figure towards Ciel. I'm focusing on the latter two, obviously.

There’s one commonality between these two interpretations; Sebastian caring about Ciel (and vice-versa, but you'll see in a moment why that's not as relevant). There is loving nature to both, but romantic and parental love are not the same thing. So why, baseline, do both these versions exist?

My thought is that they both remove the main cause of distress in their canon relationship. Which is, you guessed it, Sebastian. More specifically his feelings/intentions towards Ciel. By creating scenarios where something changes his intentions of ultimately killing Ciel, it creates the illusion that there's a possibility that the series could have a happier outcome in the end, and a happy ending for Ciel.

Which brings in a new idea. Ciel, being the main character that we follow, despite having his own complex character, serves as the…how should I put this…automatic ‘self-insert’ for people. He goes through/has gone through trauma & struggles that people can relate to and see themselves in. That's why there is a strong desire to see him have a positive outcome through these two different relationships with Sebastian, because as a reader/viewer it will feel like we ourselves are experiencing that positive outcome.

See? Coping mechanism : )

Now here's where things get tricky…Discussing the differences between these two types of relationships. Ok, I could probably find a way to say this that's long and fancy, but I’m just going to be super straight forward. This is as an absolute read, I apologize :’) People ship Sebaciel because they want someone to love them, where they picture themselves as Ciel with Sebastian as the one loving him romantically. People like the idea of Dadbastian because they long for a parent's affection, where they picture themselves as Ciel being cared for by Sebastian.

Now, this is definitely just a theory, and absolutely not the only reasons why people come up with and enjoy each of these interpretations. But the Dadbastian one most definitely applies to me.

Here’s where my own opinion comes into play. Only one of these relationships is really ‘positive’ in nature. Both of these relationships when applied to the canon would be problematic in their own ways, but when looking at it outside of the context of the series and its plot, a parental relationship between Sebastian and Ciel, a thirteen year old boy and an adult figure, is more healthy than a romantic relationship between a thirteen year old boy and an adult figure. Please don’t make me explain why :’)

I’m really hoping this reaches the right audience. I’m not trying to start a war or offend anyone, just share my thoughts and an outlook that I haven’t really seen from the black butler fanbase before.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #I don't really want to tag this as Sebaciel or antiSebaciel #I'm trying to pretend I'm neutral on the topic #but I'm not so #antisebaciel #please don't tear me to shred's #I have enough anxiety #analyses #“essays”#my analysis

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tlouxx · 10 months

Text

Electromagnetism - p. 2

~ ellie williams x reader

——————————————————————————

part one | part three <3

synopsis: you and ellie williams have been long time rivals. you're a physics majors at wellesley college, and you’re competing for the same spot in the prestigious dr. ramsey’s lab as ellie. suddenly neither of you can escape the other as you’re both trying to navigate your final year of college.

content: college!ellie, mean!ellie, modern au, academic rivals to lovers, forced proximity, swearing, banter, eventual smut i swear, tensions rising between ellie and reader

——————————————————————————

Day 22

PHYS 302: Quantum Mechanics

It’s only a few weeks into the semester, and this class is already demanding way too much of my time. Ellie and I are still sitting next to one another. I think both of us are too proud to move. Our first exam is coming up in less than a week, and to say I'm nervous is an understatement. I can tell Ellie is stressed out about it too. She’s been studying every free second, biting her nails down to a nub, and she wore that same shirt yesterday. Not that I’m keeping track! We are spending a significant amount of time together between our class schedule and work. I guess you begin to notice little details about someone when you’re with them almost everyday. Even if it isn’t by choice.

…

I can’t think straight. So many variables are swirling around in my thoughts. Ellie. My increasing anxiety. This exam. Being the best at what I do. The professor lecturing is only background noise to the ardent contemplation of the current state of my life. Quite frankly I’m struggling to understand what a quantum state is or why I should care about it. I’m only brought back to reality when I realize that Dr. L is talking to me.

“Are you listening?”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

“Can anyone else tell me what the variables are that define the quantum state of a system?”

Ellie quickly speaks up, “Compatible and Incompatible.”

“Correct, Miss Williams.” Dr. L glares at me as she turns back around to the dusty chalkboard.

…

I want to throw my head down against the desk. I knew that, and now I’ve made myself look like a fool in front of the class. I’m just so distracted by Ellie lately. Ever since she got in my face and said she intended to get the same lab position I’ve been dying to have, I feel frozen in time. I knew she wanted it, but it’s real now that she’s said it out loud. Getting into Dr. Ramsey’s lab could mean I have a fighting chance at grad school or even a future in research. It’s fucking important to me. It occurs to me that maybe Ellie and I could have an alliance. After all the saying goes, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

…

In the corner of my eye, I see Ellie chewing on her pencil. She’s studying again while I’m stuck explaining basic calculus to a freshman. It’s 8:07 p.m. Only 23 minutes till the end of my shift, but I tell her anyway that we’re closed for the night. I needed to escape the monotony of derivatives and integrals.

Ellie’s head lifts up as she hears me escort the girl out the door. It seems I piqued her curiosity, “Why did you tell her we’re closed?”

“She’s going to fail calculus with or without my help." I slump back in my chair knowing I'm barely conscious from my lack of sleep. "I’m just exhausted today. I don’t want to explain integrals again.”

A smile appears on Ellie’s face. She looks down at her hands before looking up at me again. I think I almost made her laugh.

“Trust me. I heard you explain it to her multiple times. I get it.”

Before I know it, a smile is materializing on my face too. I laugh knowing we have a mutual understanding. To be honest, Ellie kinda intimidates me. Maybe that's why when I’m around her it makes my body feel like it’s on fire. I can hear my heart pumping as she starts to move in closer to me ever so slightly. I know she’s waiting for me to say something else. Maybe I should say something else. I hope she doesn't notice how I choke on my words as I try to speak.

…

“Um, while we’re uh talking… I was just wondering how you felt about the exam on Friday.”

Ellie settles into her seat. Confidence seeps out of every pore of her body. I watch as she sets down the pencil she was once chewing on. “It’ll be easy. Maybe not for you, but it will be for me.”

“Sure… Ellie." I mirror her position. Trying to emulate the confidence she exudes. "I was just going to offer you some study tips in case you needed them.” I remark back at her.

She leans forward in her chair. Without warning, the air between us seems to thicken. “You could barely keep up today in class. I certainly don’t need any of your help.”

I lean forward too. “Really? Because I think that you’re studying every second you get because you know I’m better than you."

I stand up, and walk toward Ellie. As I begin to close the space between us, Ellie lifts herself out of her seat. She almost looks like she can't believe I'm saying this "..and you can’t stand the thought of it.”

Ellie looks like she's about to say something. Her mouth opens but closes. She turns around and opens up her bookbag. I watch as she rips a piece of paper out of a notebook. She writes something down.

She turns back around with a paper crumbled in her hand. Ellie inches toward me just like she did on our first night working together. My breath catches in my throat as my mouth goes dry. She pushes the piece of paper into my chest as I stumble backward.

She swivels on her foot and begins to pack up her things. I grab the paper and look at it. She remarks “It's my number for when you realize you’re the one who needs my help.”

…

As I walk out of work, the cold of the night makes goosebumps appear all over my arms. I am still in shock of what just happened. Ellie pushes past me and into the emerging nightfall. Her perfume lingers behind. She smells of mint and eucalyptus. Not wanting to disturb her, I continue walking a few paces behind her.

My head feels clouded. I feel overwhelmed by all of the thoughts spinning around in my head. Did she seriously just do that?

The moon brightens up the night sky as Ellie exits my view. My apartment building is only a few blocks away. I need to tell someone else about what happened tonight. I pull my phone out of my back pocket to text Dina.

8:33 P.M

you will never guess what just happened to me tonight

D: What??! Spill please!

Well... I asked Ellie about the exam in 302 and she basically said it’d be easy for her, but not me. So i said well maybe i could give you tips so you wouldn’t have to study every second of the day. then she gave me her number?!!! and said to text her when i realize that i am the one that needs help??

D: oh my fucking god.

isn’t she crazy?

D: I mean.. I think you both are.

D: but i’m curious if that’s her real number?

D: send it to me and i’ll let you know.

you have her number?

D: we might’ve exchanged numbers at some point..

???

D" well…. we kissed once or twice.

D: but we're not talking anymore

omg. DINA! why didn’t you tell me!!!

D: I thought you'd be mad and it was casual!!

D: send me the number!!!

I threw my phone onto my bed after I sent the number over to Dina. I doubt Ellie would give me her real number. She probably just wanted to fuck with me. Not that it matters if its real or not.. I wouldn’t text her anyway.

I’m disappointed that Dina didn’t feel like she could tell me about her and Ellie. I’m supposed to be there for her like she has been for me. I let this stupid rivalry get in the way of our friendship. Although when I look back on it, I don’t think they tried to hide it either. Maybe I’ve been too caught up in the fact that she was my nemesis to realize that Ellie and Dina were practically sitting on top of each other at parties or both missing at the same time. How could I have been so naïve to miss this?? My phone vibrates on my comforter. I feel my stomach drop. I’m not sure I even want to know. I open my messages with one eye open.

8:47 P.M.

yep. that's ellie’s number.

…

Day 26

PHYS 302 : Quantum Mechanics

The sun is shining in through the cracks of my blinds. My eyes are barely open. I feel the fatigue wash over me. The warmth of my bed is all-encompassing, but I know I have to pull the covers aside. My legs feel like lead as I walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth. The darkness under my eyes looks deeper than usual. I pulled an all-nighter studying for the exam today. I’m debating if I have enough time to run to the coffee shop down the street. I’m in desperate need of caffeine.

I end up walking to get coffee.I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my eyes open without it. The wind is starting to have a chill to it as summer slowly bleeds away. The bell rings as I walk in the door. This is the coffee shop I originally met Dina in. Her hair was shorter then. Our friendship continued to develop the more and more I came here. Then we found out we were working together at the tutoring center, and well the rest is history.

…

Walking into class with my iced latte in hand, I see Ellie. Her hair looks more disheveled than usual and her clothes wrinkled. Maybe I’m not the only one who pulled an all-nighter.

I’m not sure if the caffeine is helping me or just making my anxiety worse. Despite my fear that I may not have studied enough, I feel confident. I tell myself today is going to be the day I’ll be setting the curve. Not Ellie. Staying up all night is going to be goddamn worth it when I see that smirk Ellie wears off her face.

I look over at her as I sit down. She’s still biting her nails, but she doesn’t look at me.

I shift my body to look at her. She finally looks up from her notes. I whisper to her “Goodluck Ellie.”

Ellie looks at me and winks. She is wearing her exhaustion on her face, but her self-assurance is ever-present, “Goodluck to you too, sweetheart.”

I turn back around seething. The heat is rising to my cheeks, but I don’t have time to think further because Dr. L starts handing out our exams. I’m ready for it.

…

I’ve been anxiously pacing my room. Biting my nails even. I think Ellie is rubbing off on me. I dismiss the thought of becoming more like Ellie. The grades are going to be out tonight in 20 minutes. I continue walking back and forth on the hardwood floors of my room. I need to distract myself for just a little while longer. Instead, I keep brooding over my conversations with Ellie and the moment this exam score will come out.

Only a few minutes are left until the email will pop up in my inbox. I spend this time running over the exam in my head again. I’m pretty confident I answered everything correctly. Well maybe except for question 25, but I think I’m overthinking it.

My laptop pings, and I know it’s the results. My hands are damp as I lift open the screen. The subject line reads Exam Results. I click on the link

9:30 P.M.

Subject : Exam Results

Congratulations,

You’ve received the top grade on exam one with a score of 100%. Take pride in this!

Sincerely,

Dr. L

…

I am buzzing with excitement. I shoot up out of my seat and sigh with relief knowing my hard work was worth it. I subconsciously start thinking of Ellie. How she feels in this moment knowing that I did better than her. I take pleasure in thinking that she’s jealous of me. Thinking of me right now too. I catch sight of Ellie’s note crumpled up on my desk. Before I know it, her number is in my phone, and I’m typing out a text to her.

9:32 P.M.

Need my tips now Ellie?

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x you #dina tlou #rivals to lovers #slow burn #forced proximity #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #mean!ellie #college!ellie williams #college!au #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou

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lomlhwa · 1 year

Text

only your scars (c.bg)

pairing: fiancé!beomgyu x fiancée!reader

preview: beomgyu struggled with self harm for a long time. all of that changed when he met you. he hasn't cut in ages. but now that you want to be intimate, he has to confess about his past.

warnings/tags: fem reader, mentions of self harm, mentions of scars on thighs and wrists, WOLFCUT GYU, scar kissing, praise, lipstick marks, mutual pining, pet names (my love, mommy, momma, my beomie), subby beomgyu oml, so much kissing, hand holding, crying (kinda the sexy kind, kinda not), riding yay, lots of ass grabbing, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampies

trigger warnings: there's only one brief description of active cutting and that's it. the scars are an active mention though.

wc: 2.0k

song recs for this fic: o sole mio by sf9, blame me by monsta x, she's the one by monsta x, fairy of shampoo by txt

a/n: i didn't plan this but i'm dedicating this to @toxicccred because she's so sweet and i think she deserves some comfort (before anyone attacks me, i struggled with cutting.)

beomgyu has never loved anyone more than he loves you. his love for you is immeasurable. you keep him grounded and make him feel safe just by being in the same room as him. you remind him why he’s still fighting for himself. fighting to keep going.

honestly, beomgyu used to cut himself. wrists, thighs, pretty much any open expanse of skin that he could cover up with clothes and/or jewelry. as much as he hated the sight of blood, and the way the scars changed his skin, he did it all the time. he was ashamed of his coping mechanism but honestly, it worked.

he slowly accumulated a plethora of scars over the years. some faded, some still bright red. whenever there were just too many healed ones, he’d feel the compulsion to make new ones.

but all of that overwhelming negativity came to an abrupt halt the day you confessed to him. the day you told him how your heart decided to perceive him. tears filled his eyes and his lip quivered as you spoke to him.

“i like you, choi beomgyu,” you said. a smile spread across your beautiful face and he could tell that you meant it. you looked deep into his soul that day and found something in him to fall in love with.

“i like you too, y/n y/l/n,” he had responded. you almost didn’t hear him when he told you he reciprocated. his voice was so shaky and he had spoken quietly to try and keep his voice steadier.

once you knew it was mutual, you spent every waking moment together. you went on every date imaginable with beomgyu. you went to dinner, on walks in the park, took vacations together and even just had movie nights at one of your houses.

eventually, beomgyu had enough of having to leave his house to see you. so, the next time you met up, he popped the question. “will you move in with me?”

of course you said yes. the feeling of not wanting to be apart had always been mutual. you hated leaving him alone in his house. you always worried about him. you wanted to constantly check up on him and make sure he was okay.

you didn't know why you worried so much though. at this time, you didn't know about his past cutting habits. he kept that a secret from you in fear that you would find him disgusting or end up dating him just because you pitied him. you had yet to be intimate therefore his secret was kept pretty well.

one time, you almost caught a glimpse of some of his scars. you came home early, unannounced. he wasn't expecting you for at least 2 more hours. but here you were. thank god you called out for him before entering the room. he hadn't been wearing a sweater over his tank top, leaving raised scars exposed. he threw on a hoodie just before you opened your shared bedroom door. he was sure you'd caught a glimpse of his wrist based on your widened eyes. but, to his relief, your eyes were widened because his fast movements had scared you.

after that close call, he made sure to always be wearing enough clothes to hide the scars, even if you weren't home. he didn't know when or if he'd ever be ready to admit his shortcoming to you. he wanted to, but it just felt like your opinion of him would change.

now, 3 years after being together, he popped the real question. the one that he almost thought would turn you away. but, yet again, you proved him wrong.

“will you marry me, y/n?”

with tears filling your eyes, gasps coming from your mouth, you agreed. “oh my god, of course i’ll marry you!” you pressed your lips to his and you swallowed all his sobs. you said yes to marrying him despite the flaws that he still has hidden.

okay, fast forward to now.

you’ve finally confided in him that you want to have sex. you’ve been together for long enough that you feel it’s time. you’ve expressed your concern about why he hasn’t asked you to be intimate earlier.

so, here he is, panicking while waiting for you to get home from work. today is your agreed day to finally sleep together. he’s been counting the seconds ever since the clock hit 6:00pm. you’re due home any moment.

beomgyu has gone through every possible reaction you could have to his skin. disgust, sadness, pity, anger, anything. he doesn’t know if he’s ready for any of your reactions. he doesn't know if he’s ready for any of today’s events.

his panic is interrupted by the jingling of your keys outside the front door. he debates running out the back door and hiding from you. but, it’s too late. you’re here and it’s time.

“hi, my beomie,” you say, your voice sweet and soft. he looks at you with a twinge of fear in his eyes. you place your bag down on the bench by the door and slide your shoes off. you walk over to him and sit next to him on the couch. you take one of his hands into both of yours.

“are you ready?” you ask. you lift his chin with your index finger, forcing him to look at you. his lip quivers and yet he nods his head. he wants this.

“i need to tell you- well show you something first,” he says. he gets up from the couch and pulls you to your shared bedroom. he ushers you to sit down on the foot of the bed. the look in your eyes tells a story of confusion and concern.

he takes a shallow breath before hooking his fingers on the hem of his shirt. “no, wait, gyu, you don’t have to strip yet,” you explain. he shakes his head. he needs to do this and now. before you decide you want to strip him yourself.

he closes his eyes and lifts his shirt over his head and discards it on the floor. he shimmies out of his pants as well, adding them to the small pile of clothes. he keeps his eyes closed as he waits for a sound to come out of you.

when nothing happens, he opens his eyes slowly. he makes eye contact with you and his heart immediately breaks. your eyes are watery, tears already staining your flush cheeks. he already regrets stripping.

“y/n, i-,” you wave him off. you wipe your face and get off the bed. you take his face into your hands and smile softly, wiping his tears with your thumbs. “you’re still beautiful, my love,” you press your lips to his a couple times. you look at him in the eyes as more tears fall.

“please, lay on our bed,” you move out of the way for him to get on. he settles, leaning against the headboard. you sit on his right side, on your knees. you take his right arm into your hand and run your fingers over his scars.

you raise his wrist to your mouth and place a kiss on one of the scars. you scan his face for a reaction but you don’t think he’s registered it yet. so, you kiss another one. and another one. until you’ve trailed all the way up his arm.

you look up at him again and he’s fully blown sobbing. his other hand is covering his mouth as quiet sobs take him over. you continue your process despite his crying.

you lean down and kiss the scars that litter his right thigh. you use your right hand to massage his other thigh. you press kisses to every scar that covers his skin. reddish lipstick marks remain on his pinkish scars.

by the time you’re done with his right side, he’s bordering on inconsolable. he’s making you start crying again. “beomie… are you still sure you want to sleep with me? we can wait for another time,” he shakes his head.

“i want this,” he wipes his face and takes a deep breath. he grabs you by the back of the head and brings your face to his. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to straddle him. his hands rest on your clothed ass, massaging it.

he tugs at your shirt before disconnecting from your lips for a moment to get it off fully. he traces your hip bones lightly as he kisses you deeper. you grind down on him subconsciously, earning you a soft moan against your mouth.

“my beautiful beomie,” you say as you pull away. you tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “can i ride you, my love?” you ask him so tenderly that it almost throws him off. he shakes his head yes. you smile softly and mumble ‘okay.’

you get off of him and pull your pants off. you tug your panties off to follow your pants. your only remaining clothing item is your bra. you crawl onto the bed and hook your fingers on the waistband on beomgyu’s boxers. he nods at you and lifts his hips.

as soon as his boxers are off, he tries to hide himself with his hands. you remove them carefully and go back to straddling him. you reach down to align him with your entrance. you sink down slowly and beomgyu throws his head back.

“ffffuck momma,” he whines. you rest on him for a moment, getting used to his size. his legs shake slightly under you. he’s wanted this for so long and now that it’s happening, he’s full of every emotion in the book.

“i’m gonna move now, beomie,” you tell him. you lift yourself up and down slowly on his length so he gets used to the movements. he bites his lip, almost hard enough to break the skin. his eyes roll so far back into his head that he fears they might get stuck.

you bring his left wrist to your mouth and place kisses on it like you did with his other one. you tongue at the raised marks, the lipstick covering his arm. “why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you finally ask. through shaky breaths, he tries to compose his thoughts.

“i t-thought you’d leave me,” he confesses. “i thought y-you’d find me repulsive,” his voice is weepy and it breaks your heart. you kiss the tears that leave his eyes as you pick up the pace. his hands find your ass again, this time being able to knead the exposed skin.

"i would never," you say, a hint of shock painting your face. how could he think so lowly of you? why would you leave him for something that was entirely a result of him coping? he deserved to be comforted.

"i love you, mommy," he says, his hands gripping your ass tighter as his high creeps up on him. he lifts his back off the headboard to kiss you softly. he plants kisses all over your face and neck.

"i love you too, my beomie," you gasp and whine as he ignites the fire in your core. "please, cum for me, momma," he begs. you nod as he takes over your movements, snapping his hips up to meet yours.

your eyes roll back and your high crashes into you. your hips stutter as beomgyu continues thrusting to meet his high. you whine from overstimulation as he snaps his hips one more time before spilling into you.

you collapse onto him, nuzzling your nose into his neck. you peck his sweaty skin lightly before moving to get off. "no, not yet, wanna stay inside you," he pouts. you could never say no to him. you get comfortable cockwarming him.

"you can stop dressing like it's winter all year round now," you giggle. he shrugs. he's not comfortable in his scars yet, but he's sure he'll get there.

he loves you more than anything.

#lomlhwa #txt #tomorrow x together #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu smut

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miu-senpaii · 10 months

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Stick Together | Shane x depressed!Reader Oneshot

TW: Mentions of depression, suicide (it is our angsty boi we talking about), reader smokes

You've always felt like a rock floating through empty space. Despite being surrounded by people and welcomed into a caring community, you've never felt more alien and alone.

Everyone else had dreams, desires, hobbies, people to go home to, a purpose in life. Something to live for. What did you have? Nothing except misery, exhaustion, and pain. They were like comets that occasionally collided with you on their path to some faraway planet, meanwhile, you are left there falling deeper and deeper into a bottomless void.

Each day felt like dragging your feet through quicksand. With each step you took, you only sunk deeper into the pit of depression. There was a perpetual emptiness in your chest. You hated that you were drained of everything--your energy, your motivation, your happiness. Even getting up each morning has become such a chore that there are days you wish you could just rot away into the Earth.

To others, your statements seemed ludicrous. Why can't you just stop being lazy and do something? Don't we all feel sad some days? Why can't you just be happy?

You gave up on explaining. Gave up on trying to be heard. Gave up on the hope that someone someday would understand how you feel.

You built up walls around yourself. You hid your pain behind a beaming smile and outgoing personality. Despite being polar opposites on the outside, you felt like you were looking into a mirror the moment you saw Shane. You recognized the facade: his cold exterior and dismissive attitude, his blunt responses, his drinking habits, his messy appearance, and his avoidance of talking to others were all ways to shut people out. This was his defense mechanism, a wall he put up to hide his true emotions. You could sense the hurt and vulnerable man underneath his hardened expression and narrowed gaze--a feeling you understood all too well yourself.

It's funny how birds of a feather flock together. Over time, an unspoken mutual understanding formed between the two of you.

On the docks late at night, there was Shane, drowning his sorrows through piles of emptied beer cans, and you, with smoke in your breath and cigarette butts littered at your feet. Few words were exchanged, with the exception of an occasional remark or two about how life sucked, followed by a nod in agreement. Neither of you felt the need to make conversation when each other's silent company spoke more than enough. Through these late nights, a shared sentiment lingered in the air: Let's keep trying tomorrow.

Your relationship with Shane might seem strange to an onlooker, but in your own special ways, the two of you were always there for each other.

When you heard that Shane was missing, you desperately searched for him in the pouring rain, chest tightening at the thought of what Shane might have done. Your heart shattered when you found him collapsed on the ground near the cliff, his tears mixing with the rainwater. You wordlessly kneeled down on the muddy ground, holding him in your arms as you both sobbed, releasing all the agony you had kept inside for so long. It hit you like a truck when he asked why he should even go on, as that was a question you had been asking yourself all these years. You couldn't pledge that things would get better, only that you would be there to support him through whatever he was struggling with.

When Shane showed up at your door the next day after recovering in the hospital, you had thrown your arms around him, and he returned the gesture. That day, a silent vow was exchanged: No matter how bad life got, you always had each other.

Shane did end up returning the favor a few months later. The waters had tempted you with the promise of eternal sleep, freed from all the burdens and pain in your life. Before you could sink into the bottomless abyss, strong arms pulled you up to the surface. You noticed Shane's heaving breaths, his thumping heart, and his glossy eyes as he pulled you into a tight embrace. That day, there was a mutual realization that you needed one another, and needed to change for the better because of that.

It's ironic how two people without a reason to live became each other's reason.

Both of your lives changed dramatically in the following months. You joined Shane in his therapy sessions. You both agreed to help one another cut back on your unhealthy coping mechanisms. You had bought sparkling water and Joja Cola in bulk so that whenever Shane was tempted to pour himself a cold one, you replaced it with a non-alcoholic beverage. Meanwhile, when you found yourself itching for a smoke, Shane would take away your cigarette and pop a lollipop into your mouth. As a plus, your kisses also tasted a lot sweeter when there was no longer the stink of cigarettes in your mouth.

You had both grown to be much happier. Shane found his calling raising chickens, which was something you found quite cute. On the other hand, you had found fulfillment working on your farm and even began to enjoy your old hobbies again.

Neither of you was perfect by any means. There were still days when you felt like you were sinking in quicksand, sometimes only down to the ankles and other times all the way up to your neck. Except, now you were no longer traversing through it alone. With Shane by your side, you were confident that he be there to pull you up as would you for him. Together, you would keep pushing forward in hopes for a better tomorrow.

#stardew shane #stardew valley shane #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x farmer #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfiction #stardew valley fanfic #sdv #sdv shane #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer #sdv fanfic #stardew shane x reader #sdv shane x reader #sdv bachelors #stardew valley bachelors #tw depressing stuff #stardew valley oneshot #sdv oneshot

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circuit-if · 11 months

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Info post for the key characters and romance options for Circuit, with personalities, (some) backstory, and appearance listed. Choose between 4 romance routes - fall in and out of love with the other driver on your team, your rival on the track, your team's head engineer, or the sponsor heiress who's taken a liking to you.

Roman Gray [RO, he/him] - Your rival on the track. Gray came from the same neighbourhood as you, and you've raced alongside him since your very first competition. But he's no longer that young boy, left grinning with adrenaline after every circuit. No, now he's hungry for that prize with a stern drive that wont let whatever friendship you had get in the way of, and faces you only with stone cold glares and ridiculously tough competition.

Backstory - You and Roman grew up racing along tracks all over small town California, proving yourselves to everyone who doubted you over the years and rising fast in the ranks beside one another. You both spend your nights after races at the same bar in San Diego, where you make memories and vow to each other to make it to the top: the URCA championships. If only it were possible to do it together.

Appearance - Short dark brown hair in a textured fringe, gray eyes, soft, one sided smile, lean muscle, fair skin, 6'0. He wears his race jacket whenever he can, usually over casual streetwear with dark neutral tones and greens.

Romance Route - Rivals to lovers. Compete with Roman in the championship league while underlying grudges, hurt, and jealousy get in the way of the love that you share underneath, and the will to forgive. Can you repair what was once there, rescuing it from the rubble of that last night in California, or will you let it fall away under the press' love of rivalries? Or will it become something more?

Nicholas/Nadine Spade [RO, gender selectable] - The other driver on your new team, nicked "The Blade" and loved by many. N has been racing for nearly as long as you have, along the searing tracks of Miami with an effortless talent. Always finding a way to twist the situation into a witty joke and a laugh, they quickly establish themself as someone to trust among the chaos that is your new life as a top racer.

Backstory - N. grew up in Miami, under the legacy of their father, an elite racer from decades prior. From a young age, they were recognised in races for their family name and its power and prowess in the racing world. They struggled to create their own identity, eventually being labelled "Spade the Blade" for their creative tactics for cutting through groups of cars at a time.

Appearance - Dirty blonde hair cut at their neck in beach waves, chestnut brown eyes, freckles, smile lines, lopsided, charming grin, tan skin, 5'8. They wear a lot of graphic tees and have a habit of collecting bracelets for their wrists, with a generally vibrant palatte underneath their leather jackets for motor biking.

Romance Route - Friends to lovers, with a little "just friends" thrown in. Win races side by side, strategise, and plan with a little distraction on the side. Mutually pine for one another between circuits, and realise the importance of your other half not only for the team, but for you.

Sadie/Spencer Monroe [RO, gender selectable] - Your head engineer, a failed aspiring racer with a silent but deadly disposition. S designed your car from the wheels up, with one goal: to win. To win in a way they couldn't on the track themself, despite knowing everything there is to know about the sport. S has high expectations for you and N, and they're not one to disappoint.

Backstory - S. grew up in the countryside of New York, with one goal: to become the most legendary racer the URCA has ever known. With that in mind, they began racing circuits across the mid Atlantic, building and repairing their own cars and taking them into leagues they weren't welcome in because of their ultra-creative mechanic improvements. They quit soon after, turning their engineering talents to the benefit of more talented racers instead.

Appearance - Auburn hair at the base of their neck, hazel green eyes, a dusting of freckles, slender, pale skin, 5'9. They wear a brown bomber jacket over a lot of their clothes, a lot of flannel and warm tones.

Romance Route - Forbidden love. S. is an engineer, ensuring your cars are running exactly as they should, pushing them to their limits with speed and control. Their job is entirely behind the scenes, almost no one knows they exist, and they prefer it that way. You're a racer. The worlds eyes are on you. When you both face your growing feelings, you're forced to keep them away from the rest of the world and hide your romance.

Carmen Caddel [RO, she/her] - Heiress to one of your biggest sponsor companies. Carmen grew up in the lifestyle of fame and luxury, and handles it with such grace and poise that shows in every paparazzi photo and every interview. With her guiding you through the press conferences and afterparties, it should be easy to maintain the public image you're intended to keep. Right?

Backstory - Carmen was born to Defina Caddel, the founder of the creatively named company, Caddel, that has been at the head of the fashion industry for decades. Carmen inherited Defina's expensive taste and affinity for matters of fame from a young age. She was raised learning about her mothers' company, around fashion designers rather than her peers, and preparing for the day she would have to take over as CEO herself.

Appearance - Curly black hair to her mid-back, dark brown eyes, full cheeks, bright smile, tan skin, 5'5. She's only ever seen in designer clothes (most often from her mothers' brand), all of which are sleek and fitted prior to wear.

Romance Route - The power couple. MC is a driver that has worked from the bottom up, and Carmen was born into wealth and fame. With different skill sets, connections, and experience, you both face the fame and fortune, good and bad, that's coming at you a little stronger together.

- PROMO POST -

#circuit #interactive fiction #interactive novel #if #interact-if #interactive game #choice of games #cog game #if wip #cog #dashingdon #interactive fiction wip #hosted game #circuit-if #ros

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