𓂃𓈒 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ

these idk idk

Headcanon in which Doctor Strange from the universe 838 hovered on the verge of Elysium and Asphodel for his actions, in addition, he lost almost all his memory and, wandering around in the form of an ephemeral being, unsuccessfully tries to remember who he was before he entered the afterlife. 🦋

“No,” Tony shakes his head, “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what!?” Peter demands, exasperated, “What is it that we cannot do?”

“This, us,” Tony sighs, “Kid, you have to understand. I’m not made for you. You’re meant to go out and find someone your own age, who doesn’t have drinking problems and isn’t mentally unstable. You deserve better than me, Pete.”

“I don’t want anything better, Tony,” Peter narrows his eyes, his chin jutting up, “There isn’t anyone better out there for me. I want you.”

“Kid–”

“Stop calling me that,” Peter growls, “I’m twenty-five fucking years old. I’m not that sixteen year old you met all those years ago. I’ve grown up and I know what I want. And I know what you want, too.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Peter,” Tony tells him sadly, “And you being twenty-five now doesn’t lessen our age gap.”

“Damn our age gap, then!” Peter cries. He reaches out for the older man’s hands and pulls him closer so that their faces are only inches apart. “Damn what anyone else has to say about us and damn what you think I want. Because I want you. How many times do I have to say it?”

“Until you realize what a mistake that is,” Tony whispers. He grazes his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone and down to the corner of his lip. Peter shudders and closes his eyes, leaning into the touch, “You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart.”

“I think I do,” Peter smiles lightly, he takes a few steps closer and backs Tony into the wall. And then it all comes stumbling out, “You think I’m adorable when I’m mad. You want me but falsely believe you cannot have me. You feel overwhelmed that I exist.”

Tony blinks, his eyes searching Peter’s face, “What, are you reading my non-existent diary or something?”

Peter laughs breathily. “I know you don’t remember telling me those things. But drunk words <i>are</i> sober thoughts.”

With a deep swallow, Tony sighs, “You got me there, kid.”

“Tony, I said to stop calling me kid,” Peter practically whines.

“Force of habit,” Tony shrugs.

“Okay, then for now on you’ll be Mr. Stark again. I’ll add in a few sirs here and there, too. You know what, maybe I’ll even call you da–”

He’s cut off by an abrupt but welcome crash of the lips. Peter hums and instantly melts into it, his hands finding Tony’s defined biceps. He takes it one step further by pressing Tony closer to the wall and opening his mouth, welcoming the older man’s tongue. Tony seems hesitant at first but doesn’t take too long to start exploring Peter’s mouth as if it’s his last day on earth.

Heat races up and down Peter’s body and everything within him buzzes for more. More of Tony, more of them, together, as one. Involuntarily, his hips thrust into Tony’s, but the pleasure that follows isn’t anything he’d give up.

Tony pulls back just slightly, their foreheads pressed together, “Peter–”

“Shut up,” Peter demands through gritted teeth. He pulls Tony back into the kiss, and Tony lets him. Peter feels Tony’s hands travel down to the back of his thighs before he's suddenly hoisted up so that his legs are wrapped around Tony’s torso.

“Couch,” Peter pants between kisses. Tony obliges and walks him over to the couch, not breaking the kiss even as he sets Peter down onto his back.

Peter uses his legs to squeeze Tony in closer and his hands on the older man’s hips to guide them into steady thrusts. Tony and Peter’s moans are twisted together in a sort of harmony.

“God, kid, you’re perfect,” Tony gasps, “So beautiful. Breathtaking.”

Peter flips them over and Tony is sitting up with Peter on his lap. “Just for you, sir,” Peters smirks, satisfied when Tony’s entire body jerks in pleasure at the title, and dives in for more.

Not me having thots about Hotch having super detailed and intricate tattoos that cover both of his arms and connect to each over over his shoulder blades/back. They stop a little below his elbows, so they're super easy to hide under his suits (even when he rolls his sleeves up a little).

But then the team are called in for an emergency case. There's no time to change into proper clothes--they have to grab their go-bags and meet at the jet. And he's walking on in a dark blue button-up, the top two buttons open, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and black jeans. And everyone is staring at him.

For a moment he's puzzled, setting his bag down under his seat before his eyes widen in realization. He let's out an exasperated sigh before sitting down, already feeling the headache coming on from the questions that are sure to bombard him. And, of course, they do. Mostly from Derek and Penelope, actually.

Derek is shocked. "Hotch, man, I didn't know you had ink! How long have we known each other?"

Penelope is practically vibrating in her seat (she's coming with, her own outfit a bit eccentric for a case), "Oh my goodness! What do they mean? How many do you have? Wait, can I have a closer look?"

The only people who are silent throughout the whole ride are Rossi and Reid. Rossi because he already knew about the tattoos, and he's mostly just shooting Hotch an amused look from over his file.

Reid, however... Reid is speechless. Eyes tracing over every bit of exposed skin, trying to map what might be hidden underneath the shirt. Trying to piece together the puzzle of black ink that permanently marks Hotch's skin, wondering what it all means. He doesn't notice that Hotch catches him staring (more than once), nor does he realize how his face has flushed a pretty rosy red the longer he imagines how far those tattoos go along Hotch's back. Do they curl over his ribs? Do they go down his hips, his thighs?

His fingers twitch. The urge to trace along those thick lines, to feel every inch of skin that is marked forever by an artist who spent hours (days? weeks?) laboring over their work, perfecting every little detail--it makes his skin tingle.

And then they're landing in Colorado, and Reid has no clue what their case is about, blinking back his embarrassment for having not paid any attention to his team whatsoever. He swallows, adjusting his satchel over his crotch as he walks out after Emily. Thankfully he can read over the case on the way to the precinct. Unless he ends up riding with Hotch--because he isn't too sure his imagination will let him focus otherwise.

(Tagging under the cut)

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Thomas Gibson and Mandy Patinkin as Dr. Daniel Nyland/Aaron Hotchner and Dr. Jeffrey Geiger/Jason Gideon Chicago Hope S02E03 (1995) Criminal Minds S01E04 (2005)

@redwithjoon, @callm3c0nfus3d, @reidsbookclub

Hannibal Whump | Part 2 | Chin scar

BAU Moments That Make Me Overly Emotional (2/?)

1x01 || Extreme Aggressor

I just rewatched 1x8 (natural born killer) and the end makes me so 😕😕

Like hotch literally admitted that he was abused as a kid and they just?? Don’t bring it up ever again??? He deserves the same amount of backstory and trauma dumping as everyone else on the team ❤️‍🩹

I want to hug him a lot

Hi I stopped using tumblr for a while and forgot my old acc love u! -lottie

And they say brunettes with dimples can’t stabilize the reactor core 😏