woogity woogity woogity

word count – 25,555 (its so long im so sorry) warnings - a lot, blood, torture, mentions (but no descriptions) of sexual assault/rape, murder, canon violence stuff, this is essentially a hurt/comfort fic so expect a lot of hurt to come before the comfort, also a slow burn. synopsis - an agent gets taken in the middle of an investigation. in a race against time, the team at the bau must find her by diving into her deepest secrets. when a video tape arrives with horrible images of the state of their friends, aaron hotchner realizes just how terrified he is of losing her.  tagging: @magicalbluepanther (i hope you don’t mind the tag lol) a/n – did anyone order an extra long aaron hotchner slow burn? Because here you’ve got one. so my mental health is declining again and that means I have to write a criminal minds one shot that involves a lot of hurt/comfort. also I gave y/n a name because i don’t really like y/l/n or anything, but you’re more than welcome to replace it with your own! please dont be mad at me. anyway, stay happy, healthy, safe, and groovy!

The moment Agent Hotchner realized that she wasn’t coming back, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. It had happened once before, this feeling, the day he was in his car and he got that call from Foyet and heard Hayley’s muffled sobbing over the phone. Panic settled into his bones, unable to shake it away even as the terrified eyes of the rest of the team looked his way. 

“Did we just lose her?” Emily Prentiss asked, her words wavering ever so slightly as she tried to keep herself calm. 

At the sound of her voice, Hotch finally found himself able to look around the room. 

Morgan had shifted his eyes back to the door that his friend was supposed to come through. Reid stared at Hotch, wide eyed, lips parted. JJ was chewing on her thumb nail, waiting for Hotch to do something, say something. Emily was looking between the door and Hotch. Rossi was standing behind him, so he couldn’t see the look on his face, but Hotch couldn’t imagine he looked any different than the rest of his team. 

Agent Evelyn Caro had walked into the meeting, undercover, in hopes of baiting a serial killer into a quick and easy arrest. After three years of horrific killings, the BAU team was so close to catching him and Agent Caro was more than willing to be the one to take him down. 

Hotch knew this particular case was a sore spot for Caro, as all torture/murder cases were. But during this entire case, she had been far more on edge and far more eager to tear their suspect to shreds. He shouldn’t have let her go to the meeting, he knew it was too personal for her, even if she had never told him why. 

She had refused to take in a ear piece, said that the stories that would be told at the meeting were personal and their privacy was to be respected. Hotch trusted her. He agreed. They all stood outside and waited. The meeting should have been only two hours, Caro promised that she would be back with the suspect in less than three hours. 

request - Nope. Just from my noggin. 

warnings - physical violence, mentions of neglect/abandonment, allusion to depression, really long for no reason, unedited synopsis - With an absent mother and a distant father, you’ve always felt alone living in your empty house. But a certain delivery boy might be the one thing that makes running an estate worth it. tagging -  @simonsbluee​, @parkerpetertingle​, @diverrdown​, @ponyboys-sunsets​, @outerbanksbro, @apoguecalledjj,  a/n - I’ve been wanting to write something kinda based off of Buttercup and Wesley from Princess Bride because it’s one of my favorite movies ever and I finally found the perfect way to set it up. The concept is the whole “Farm Boy”/”As you wish” ordeal. I feel like my life is now complete. 

                                                                 ***

You shut your father’s bedroom door quietly, only letting out a sigh once it was closed completely. It was almost 11 o’clock in the morning and his curtains were still pulled shut, the lights still off, and he had yet to move. Most days were like this. You brought him food and his medication and just let him sit while you got the house in order. 

Summer was harder than the rest of the year. School was an escape from the empty halls, the abandoned bedrooms, the constant work that never ended. Even if it meant going to the Kook academy, it was better than being stuck at home. 

word count - who knows somewhere around 5k probably

summary - the wife of a musketeer reflects on her relationship with her husband while Porthos watches from the sidelines.   warnings - mentions of domestic violence, cheating,  a/n - I’m still in my Porthos phase and I’ll never ever leave it, so here’s a little tid bit as I’m working on a longer one with some pining and some other tropes that I love so bear with me please. So, the way that I tried to write it is that the lyrics are y/n’s thoughts while the prose is Porthos’ perspective, so hopefully that come’s across! This ended up being harder than I thought?

~~~

I wore make-up when we dated ‘Cause I thought you’d like me more If I looked like the other prom queens I know that you loved before

y/n sat next to her husband, a musketeer by the name of Bureau. His arm was wrapped around her waist, hand resting against her hip bone. Even from across the courtyard, Porthos could tell that the wide smile on her face was fake. He had spent enough time with her to be able to tell the difference between her real smiles and the one she put on for show. 

Bureau was talking to some of his other musketeer friends, laughing. His fingers dug into y/n’s dress like claws. Porthos watched her grimace, tightening her jaw. It made his fingers clench. 

warnings - mentions of death, angst and a lot of it, really like there is nothing here except angst and also Fred dies again. also, I didn’t edit this.  synopsis - you and your husband survive the second wizarding war, but so do some of Voldemort’s old followers, and they are hell bent on revenge.  pairings - muggle!reader x Fred Weasley a/n - so this is based on a dream I had a long while ago and I just needed to get off my chest. I hope y’all enjoy it. Also, sorry, I’m not british and it feels weird typing Mum and not being british so I just used Mom. I apologize. And yes, the first part of this was an actual dream that I had once and it absolutely broke me to pieces. So, here I am sharing it with you so that you can all cry too. You’re welcome. 

~~~

You had spent many Christmases with the Weasleys, but this was your first Christmas celebrating as a Weasley. 

You twisted the simple copper bands around your fingers, as you always did when you were nervous. Fred Weasley, your husband, reached out to take your hand without even looking at your fidgetiness. He knw you well enough to know when you were nervous. 

“You already know everyone here,” he said in a low whisper. “There’s no need to be afraid.” 

“I’m not scared of your family!” You told him quietly with a smile before placing your other hand gently over your stomach. “I’m just…nervous about telling them.”

Fred looked over at you as if suddenly remembering that you were expecting your first kid, who would be the second of Molly and Arthur’s grandkids, right after Victoire. He smiled at you and then smiled down at your hand. 

@mackenzielovee

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BBC’s Merlín (Netflix), 5 Seasons

The Yorkshire Ripper on Netflix (true crime) (miniseries)

Agents of SHIELD (netflix), 7 seasons

The Mummy (and the Mummy Returns) - movies with Brendon Fraiser, idk where you can find them

Scream (horror) on multiple different platforms (pay per view)

Ripper Street (historical fiction) on Netflix, 3+ seasons (TV-MA)

Peaky Blinders (historical fiction) on Netflix, 3+ seasons (TV-MA)

word count – 25,555 (its so long im so sorry) warnings - a lot, blood, torture, mentions (but no descriptions) of sexual assault/rape, murder, canon violence stuff, this is essentially a hurt/comfort fic so expect a lot of hurt to come before the comfort, also a slow burn. synopsis - an agent gets taken in the middle of an investigation. in a race against time, the team at the bau must find her by diving into her deepest secrets. when a video tape arrives with horrible images of the state of their friends, aaron hotchner realizes just how terrified he is of losing her.  tagging: @magicalbluepanther (i hope you don’t mind the tag lol) a/n – did anyone order an extra long aaron hotchner slow burn? Because here you’ve got one. so my mental health is declining again and that means I have to write a criminal minds one shot that involves a lot of hurt/comfort. also I gave y/n a name because i don’t really like y/l/n or anything, but you’re more than welcome to replace it with your own! please dont be mad at me. anyway, stay happy, healthy, safe, and groovy!

The moment Agent Hotchner realized that she wasn’t coming back, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. It had happened once before, this feeling, the day he was in his car and he got that call from Foyet and heard Hayley’s muffled sobbing over the phone. Panic settled into his bones, unable to shake it away even as the terrified eyes of the rest of the team looked his way. 

“Did we just lose her?” Emily Prentiss asked, her words wavering ever so slightly as she tried to keep herself calm. 

At the sound of her voice, Hotch finally found himself able to look around the room. 

Morgan had shifted his eyes back to the door that his friend was supposed to come through. Reid stared at Hotch, wide eyed, lips parted. JJ was chewing on her thumb nail, waiting for Hotch to do something, say something. Emily was looking between the door and Hotch. Rossi was standing behind him, so he couldn’t see the look on his face, but Hotch couldn’t imagine he looked any different than the rest of his team. 

Agent Evelyn Caro had walked into the meeting, undercover, in hopes of baiting a serial killer into a quick and easy arrest. After three years of horrific killings, the BAU team was so close to catching him and Agent Caro was more than willing to be the one to take him down. 

Hotch knew this particular case was a sore spot for Caro, as all torture/murder cases were. But during this entire case, she had been far more on edge and far more eager to tear their suspect to shreds. He shouldn’t have let her go to the meeting, he knew it was too personal for her, even if she had never told him why. 

She had refused to take in a ear piece, said that the stories that would be told at the meeting were personal and their privacy was to be respected. Hotch trusted her. He agreed. They all stood outside and waited. The meeting should have been only two hours, Caro promised that she would be back with the suspect in less than three hours. 

Lesya has been sick all week so your Thanksgiving post is: 

Give all the thanks you want but champion land back causes at the dinner table (if it’s safe to do so) 

 You’re giving thanks for our genocide 

 Put us back in the present 

 We did not go quietly, and we are still here 

 Settlers, donate to a Native person/org today 

 Natives, drop your culture’s orgs (or personal links) in the comments 

 ~Lesya

If you don’t know how literal I’m being with the “you’re giving thanks for our genocide”, click below the cut:

word count - who knows somewhere around 5k probably

summary - the wife of a musketeer reflects on her relationship with her husband while Porthos watches from the sidelines.   warnings - mentions of domestic violence, cheating,  a/n - I’m still in my Porthos phase and I’ll never ever leave it, so here’s a little tid bit as I’m working on a longer one with some pining and some other tropes that I love so bear with me please. So, the way that I tried to write it is that the lyrics are y/n’s thoughts while the prose is Porthos’ perspective, so hopefully that come’s across! This ended up being harder than I thought?

~~~

I wore make-up when we dated ‘Cause I thought you’d like me more If I looked like the other prom queens I know that you loved before

y/n sat next to her husband, a musketeer by the name of Bureau. His arm was wrapped around her waist, hand resting against her hip bone. Even from across the courtyard, Porthos could tell that the wide smile on her face was fake. He had spent enough time with her to be able to tell the difference between her real smiles and the one she put on for show. 

Bureau was talking to some of his other musketeer friends, laughing. His fingers dug into y/n’s dress like claws. Porthos watched her grimace, tightening her jaw. It made his fingers clench.